#just wish I had my hidden blade :

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ NAPPING WITH THEM.

fandom. honkai star rail

pairings. blade, dan heng, gepard, jing yuan, welt x gn!reader

content warnings. sfw, sleeping/napping with them, sharing one bed, written in lowercase, not edited/proofread

word count. 0.8k

notes. i literally word-vomited this after my first final exam, please don't expect too much ;-;

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ blade. 

blade isn’t a napper, too busy with his work and often too energized to even sleep properly at night. but when he does, it’s only because you ask him to join you. and even then, when you fall asleep in minutes, he lays wide awake while you sleep peacefully in his arms. he doesn’t even bother with trying to sleep, simply closing his eyes, and enjoying the peace he has when he’s with you.

it has only happened a few times, where he fell asleep, and you had to wake him. he doesn’t like the feeling, not quite asleep but also not quite awake. it dulls his senses, something he hates, yet he doesn’t complain. blade could never complain or refuse to join you during your naps, not when you snuggle up to him with a small smile, happy to be close to him.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ dan heng. 

dan heng is a chronic napper. With his irregular sleep schedule, he has to catch up on sleep, or else he can’t properly function. so, it’s no surprise that he can fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, curling together while the astral express continues to drift across the stars. sometimes he drags you with him, seeing those dreary, dark circles under your eyes and decides that both of you need some rest.

even when he’s with you, he curls together, this time around you, as if he’s a dragon hoarding his treasure. it keeps you warm and assures him you’re safe, bodies hidden behind that flimsy blanket of his. not that it’s needed, when his room is properly heated and he himself always runs warmer than most... and then you sleep, duration varying, depending on the amount of sleep you try to catch up on or if one of you is needed. but it already happened that the two of you slept a whole afternoon away and when you woke up, you just stayed in bed, simply because bedtime was in a few hours anyways.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ gepard.

despite being busy with being a captain of the silvermane guards, gepard often takes naps. not those long afternoon naps, where he sleeps for hours, oh no— the longest time he ever napped were 45 minutes on the dot, always waking up the moment his alarm rings. you on the other hand enjoy longer naps and always grumble when he leaves the warm bed.

but it’s enough for you, when you fall asleep with him, sharing warmth beneath the thick blanket. his soft snores are a lullaby to you and help to calm your mind, drifting off to a well-deserved sleep. and when he tangles your hold from him to go back to work, he always kisses your cheek to soothe your complains. he would return into your waiting arms, he always does.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ jing yuan.

taking an afternoon nap with the general is rare. but when it happens, you don’t nap alone. the purrs of his giant white pet lion and chirps of his little songbirds lull you into sleep. snuggled close to jing yuan, your head is on his chest, while his arms are wrapped around you. napping with him is a cherished comfort, the tender closeness making you blush, but you don’t deny your enjoyment of it. you know he enjoys it too, always falling asleep with a soft smile on his lips.

and when you wake up, hair tousled and eyes bleary, you can’t believe that this man is yours. yours to love, to hold and cherish. he looks pretty like this, guards down and body pliant, undeniably pretty. moments like this are rare, even rarer than these naps together, so you hold them close to your heart, making them a treasured memory.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ welt. 

welt frequently naps. often for one or two hours, to catch up on the sleep he lacks. you never join him to fall asleep with him, since he never tells you that he wishes to nap. but you know he likes to wake up with you in his bed, snuggled close together and quietly snoring your exhaustion away. sometimes you miss his naps, often busy with your own work, but often you join him, slip beneath the covers and warm your cold limbs up.

and when he wakes, he never leaves the bed immediately. instead, he watches your relaxed face, listens to the soft breathes leaving you, letting himself drift and simply enjoy the moment. sometimes he falls asleep again, sometimes he does not. it doesn’t matter to him, not when he can enjoy waking up next to you.

taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @auraxins , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @stellumi , @bladiekisser , @trailblazernet

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2023

#honkai star rail #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #welt x reader #blade x gn reader #dan heng x gn reader #gepard x gn reader #jing yuan x gn reader #welt x gn reader #blade x you #dan heng x you #gepard x you #jing yuan x you #welt x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail fluff #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations

[ickadori]

++ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔

[summary] your parents have no place in getou’s new world, but you do.

[cws] fem reader. death. murder -> getou is killing your monkey as parents, but it’s not described, just hinted at! yandere vibes but i didn’t lean into it heavy. mentions of getou’s past crimes (village slaughtering/killing his parents). hinted that reader used to like getou. unedited.

“You can’t be here.”

If your body hadn’t locked up in fear, you would have given yourself a pat on the back for keeping your voice so steady despite the panic curdling in your chest at the sight of Getou Suguru standing on your doorstep—your parent’s doorstep.

“I can’t visit my dear old friend? We are friends, aren’t we?” No, you had stopped being friends with him the moment you heard of what he did to his parents—no, not even then, because you couldn’t believe it at first.

“Getou Suguru killed the people of the village, as well as his parents.”

You had balked when Yaga first said those words to you, and then you had spat venom as you vehemently denounced the claim. I mean, it was Getou. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t. Someone had gotten something terribly, terribly wrong. He wasn’t that kind of person, he wasn’t evil.

There had to have been some kind of mishap — an anomaly. Perhaps his technique had failed and one of his curses had turned against him and killed the villagers, and he was powerless to stop it. Or maybe there had been some kind of colluding - it wouldn’t be the first time that the higher-ups pulled a nasty, underhanded tactic for their own hidden agendas.

But then Gojo had come to you with bloodshot eyes and wild hair, and you had known it was true, even though the both of you had desperately wished it wouldn’t.

Even then, with the confirmation that Getou had turned his blade against the people you all had spent your life training to protect, you still hadn’t turned your back on him…until you had seen the state of his childhood home.

The walls, once painted a a soft cream, had been stained a dark red, splatters of blood stretched high up to the ceilings. The pictures on the walls that contained images of a young Geto positioned in between his parents, beaming smiles on all of their faces, had been smashed beyond recognition. The recliner that you vividly remember seeing his father napping in, book laid on his chest and glasses slipping down his nose, had been flipped, the fabric slashed to shreds and the cushion spilling out. His mother’s apron, a gift that you had given her one year for her birthday, had laid in bloody tatters next to it.

You would have thought he hated them with the savage way he had killed them (didn’t he, though? Was this his way of showing you all just how serious he was?), he hadn’t even left behind a piece of bone to properly identify them, and the implication that he had let the curses he hosted consume them had made you sick to your stomach.

That’s when you began to hate Suguru Getou, but even more than that, you began to fear him.

“No, we’re not.” Whatever steel that had been in your voice before was now gone, and the waver in it was clear as your hand tightened on the doorknob. You wanted to slam it close and turn the lock, but what good would that do? He’d get in, and while you were a decent enough sorcerer, him and Gojo had been the real hotshots, you just happened to be entertaining enough for them to let you tag along. He could kill you easily, your parents even easier, and your stomach twists into painful knots as you think to your mother who’s only a few feet away and sitting on the couch, curled into your father’s side as they watch a movie together.

“That hurts my feelings,” he smiles, and instead of the fluttery feeling that it used to give you, it only makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I considered you family, y’know—I still do.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing into slits as a wave of anger washes over you, quickly replacing that all-consuming fear. “Is that why you’re here? To kill me just like you did your family? Your parents?”

“My family?” He tilts his head, a look of confusion taking over his features, and you finally notice his new look. He’s garbed in a monks robes, and his hair that had usually been kept tidy and out of the way now flows down his back. A fleeting thought of his attractiveness passes by, and you don’t entertain it. “Oh, those monkeys.” An easy smile graces his lips as he bats his hand in the air, as if shooing away something bothersome. “No, I’m not here to kill you. You actually have a place in this world, unlike…” His eyes make a motion to the side when he hears your mom’s grumbled complaint of the show, and he’s been inside your house enough to know exactly where the couch sits.

“Leave, Getou.” His eyes slide back to yours, that smile still on his face, and the fear from before comes back tenfold at his unspoken intentions. “Now.”

“You don’t have to look so scared,” he laughs lightly, and you jump when you hear your mother call out to you.

“Who’s that at the door, sweetie?” You hear the sound of her shuffling towards you, and your heart lurches up into your throat as you freeze. What do you do? What can you do? Tears well up in your eyes when you come to the realization that whatever you did would be pointless in the end. If he wanted your parents dead, then they’d be dead.

“Please, Suguru.” The floorboard creaks behind you, and his smile widens further at the desperation in your voice. Please don’t hurt them.

“Honey, who are—oh! Getou? I haven’t seen you in ages! How’re you doing, hun? I thought you were still overseas.” Your mother sidles up beside you, a pleased smile on her face as she takes him in. Getou looks to you, clearly wondering when he had gone overseas, and you think back to the lie you had told when your mother kept questioning you about where your ‘handsome little friend had gone’.

“I’ve just gotten back tonight, actually.” He smoothly lies, hands disappearing into the sleeves of his robes, and your heart rate skyrockets as your brain conjures up various scenarios, scenarios in which all end the same exact way. “I missed your daughter so much that I just had to come and see her.”

Your mother swoons.

“H-He’s leaving, actually.”

“I’m not, actually.” He retorts, and your mother throws a glance your way, and you meet her gaze, hoping and praying that she’d realize the gravity of the situation by the look on your face. She’s your mother, she raised you, she knew all your moods, good and bad, surely she should know when something was seriously wrong with—

“Why don’t you come inside then and get out of this cold? You can tell us all about your stay overseas over some tea.”

Nonononono.

“Oh, how kind, I’d love to.”

-

“How are your parents doing, Geto? I haven’t heard from your mother in a while… she missed out on the market’s half off deal last Saturday.”

Dead. He killed them. He killed them and he’s going to kill you, too.

Your stomach gives another lurch, and you press shaking hands in between your thighs and squeeze them together tight. I can call Gojo, you think. He’d get here in seconds thanks to his teleportation, and in a battle of strength between him and Getou, he came out on top every time. Of course, somehow being able to sneak away to grab your phone would be a risk. But you had to try, you couldn’t just keep sitting here and prolonging their death while they chatted about an overseas trip that never happened, and parents that had long been murdered by their own son.

“…find yourself a partner yet, Getou? I’m sure you have, with your good looks and all.” Your father gives his wife a raise of his brow, but otherwise keeps his attention on the television. “Oh, it’s a pity. You know…” Your mother gives you a sly look, and you narrow your eyes at her as you give a firm shake of your head. “I always thought you two had a little spark going on.”

“Mom.”

Getou grins like the chesire cat, and you wonder if he’s always looked this devious and you were just too blinded by…whatever to notice. “I actually haven’t found anyone yet, although I do have someone in mind.”

“Oh.” She jovially laughs, her hand softly batting at your shoulder as she throws you another look, and you couldn’t keep the grimace off your face if you tried. “It wouldn’t happen to be my lovely, sweet, beautiful, hardworking, amazing cook—”

“—I’m not listening to this.” You shoot to your feet, using the excuse of this embarrassment of a conversation to your aid. It’s a good enough reason to make a swift exit —a mother trying desperately to set her daughter up with the man who’s plotting to kill her and her husband— and swift it is, your feet quickly carrying you up the stairs and down the hall.

“—oh, come on, honey! I’m just playing around!”

Your mother’s voice fades out as you push open your bedroom door and immediately lunge for your phone that’s lying on the bed. You grab it with shaking hands, fingers frantically tapping in your password, and your eyes dart between the screen and the hallway.

A silence falls over the house, and you make a choked noise as your mind jumps to the worse. He’s killed them. He finally got tired of playing nice and killed them. Oh God, he’s killed them.

“…just down the hall and to the ri—well, you’ve been here plenty times! You know the way!” A wave of relief washes over you at the sound of your mother’s voice, only for a surge of panic to rise when you realize he’s on his way and you’ve still yet to call Gojo. You’d have to settle for a text, then.

Your fingers fly across the screen as you move to the text chain you have with Gojo, and you begin to type a message. Getou is here please help, quick and to the point. Your thumb moves to send it, only for a blob of something black to suddenly engulf your hand.

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening and arm flinging to the side as you try to fling whatever the hell is on you away, and go to release it in a scream, only for a hand to clamp around your mouth from behind, nails painfully digging into the fat of your cheek. There’s a numbingly cold presence at your back, and your ears twitch at the ragged breathing in your ear.

You know before you look down and see the dark, ghoulish hand that it’s a curse, and you gag as the scent of rotting flesh floods your nostrils. The sound of your bedroom door lock clicking into place reaches your ears, and your eyes snap up to see Getou leaning against it, hands clasped in front of him as he looks at you through his lashes, head tilted down so his chin reaches his chest.

“Your mother doesn’t know when to shut up.” He sighs, and then he’s pushing away from the door and sheathing his hands back into his sleeves, eyes slowly taking in your room. “A second longer and you would have gotten that text off. To Satoru, I’m assuming?” The blob that had engulfed your hand plops down to the floor, and you gag again at the sticky liquid that drips from your palm and onto the carpet.

Getou splays out his palm, and then the phone is spat out and up from the curse before landing in his hand. He glances down at the screen and tsks. “I should kill them right now.”

You scream into the curse’s palm, your head frantically shaking wide to side as best it can. The nails dig in deeper, and you moan in pain, your own hands moving to attempt to free yourself, only for the thing’s other hand to snag ahold of your wrists and wrench them behind your back.

“They were supposed to be dead two hours ago, but I figured I’d let you have a few more moments with them for old times sake.” He smiles as he stoops to look at a picture on your bedside table — it’s one that you had taken the winter before Getou had turned into what he was now. You were sandwiched between him and Gojo, a grin on the white haired man’s face as he leaned his elbow on the top of your head. You were in the middle of sending your fist into his stomach (that of which had been blocked by his infinity, you faintly recall) while Getou watched the two of you with a small smile on his face.

It was the last picture that the three of you had taken together, and you had thrown it away countless times, only to later find yourself rooting through the bin as you frantically searched through it.

Your eyes fill with tears once again.

“Those were fun times, yeah?” He comes to a stop in front of you, and the curse that had been restraining you suddenly lets you go. It steps around you, and you watch, frozen, as it takes hurried steps out of your room. You gasp in a breath, your hands flying to his robes as you clench them in your fists.

“I’m begging you,” you croak, the tears freely falling down your cheeks. “Please don’t do this, Suguru. Please don’t hurt them.”

“They have no place in my world.”

“Honey…do you see that? Oh my God, do you see that?”

“Suguru!” You wail.

“But you…” His hands move to cup the sides of your face, and you sob when you hear the first scream. “You do.”

#getou x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[lazycats-stuff]

Artist toddler batbro! Can't help but draw/ paint at least once a day and at the end of the day batfam is anticipating who will be the lucky family member that'll receive which ever art piece their youngest has created that day (sometimes the art piece is on the walls or floor of the mansion but no one has the heart to be angry when little batbro is just proudly presenting his art)

Toddler batbro *leaves a paint covered tiny handprint on the wall*

Bruce: alfred, frame that

Oh my, that's cute. Oh my God... Aww. Also, I know it's short, but this is all my inspiration is willing to give at this moment. Next time, I'll try to write more.

Summary: (Y/N) is an artist.

Warnings: None, really fluffy

Every child has a talent. Whether that be in sports or arts, every child has a hidden talent for something. Even if some kids are average, there is nothing wrong with it. Bruce, amongst his four older sons, had a toddler. Yes, a toddler.

How did it happen?

A one night stand. The mom couldn't take care of (Y/N) and Bruce took him in and the other 4 accepted (Y/N) as if he was their blood brother and Bruce was grateful that they did it. Of course, they had to change their schedules to accommodate to make sure that (Y/N) was a priority. Of course, no one minded to do that.

And speak of talents? While his four older sons had their own specialties. Damian had his knowledge of blades and martial arts, Tim for his hacking and detective skills, Jason for his accuracy with guns and other firearms and Dick with his acrobatic skills.

(Y/N) was an artistic child. He didn't show it at first, but as he got more comfortable, he started asking for paper and crayons. Crayons slowly evolved into something more and (Y/N) would draw daily. It could be anything. It could be a couch or even Titus. Maybe it would be one of the boys too.

And, at the moment, there was a big honor in the house. What that honor may be? (Y/N) handing you his own artwork. It became a tradition and sort of a competition between everyone. Everyone wanted to see what (Y/N) has created that day.

It was considered the biggest honor in the manor, to get a piece of paper, created by (Y/N). It makes everyone's day when they get an artwork. Dick nearly cried. Damian was close to crying too. Alfred and Bruce got one too and the two grown men, who have seen stuff... Safe to say, they nearly broke down into tears and shambles.

Nearly.

But there was a one problem in this entire story. (Y/N) wouldn't limit himself to drawing on paper. Oh no. Many parents would punish the child if the child drew on the walls or floor. Right? Well... Not if you are (Y/N) Wayne who is clearly artistically talented.

(Y/N) would often draw whenever he could, even if that meant on the wall or the floor. And whoever saw (Y/N) drawing on the floor or the wall, didn't have a heart to even yell or be remotely angry, especially since (Y/N) had that shine in his eyes when he was showing them their art.

Bruce wasn't supposed allow (Y/N) to paint over the walls or the floor. That's what Bruce was supposed to correct. A correct thing to do... Right? Well, Bruce didn't know. Parenting doesn't have a book and a set of rules, but Bruce wished he had some sort of rules so he could solve this.

He can keep on dreaming when it comes to universal rules for a perfect parenting style.

But he has actually decided what he was going to do, without a doubt. (Y/N) was allowed to doddle and draw wherever he wanted. That was something that was relayed to all the other members, whoever, they put certain restrictions.

No drawing in their rooms without supervision. Bruce's study was also off limits if there is no supervision. And only at home is doodling and drawing allowed.

Because Bruce is just ready to frame it all. Alfred already has frames ready to go.

It was always fun.

As of now, (Y/N) was doodling on the wall, just sitting on the floor, without a care in the world. Bruce and Alfred were walking by, stopping when they saw (Y/N) drawing. This time, it was just a simple handprint.

Bruce was smiling and instructed (Y/N) to go wash his hands and then eat. Bruce and Alfred looked at the handprint on the wall.

" Alfred, frame that. " Bruce said and Alfred did just that. Took out a frame and made sure that handprint was framed. And it looked adorable.

" He is growing up too quickly, Master Bruce. " Alfred said said as he looked at the little handprint.

" I agree Alfred. " Bruce said sadly.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader

[odoraful]

Mortal Expertise

before his nightly patrol, xiao needs help from you to understand something he observed among mortals. 

word count: 1011 a/n: my wish is that we can all meet xiao again at the lantern rite event coming up; i miss him too much :'( this is my first post writing one of my favourite genshin characters, so i hope it's alright! will be writing lots more in the future ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Xiao had been wiping his jade spear in the same spot for the past minute. You angled your book down and peered towards him, looking at his back as he sat on the side of the bed. 

Strange. Usually he’d be gone by now, you thought, turning a page and skimming over words that escaped your focus. Xiao was always efficient when preparing for his nights of patrol. No matter how many times he had gone out to vanquish the monsters that crept too close to Wangshu Inn or Qingce Village, his routine had never changed. Stranger still, he was deathly silent. This wouldn’t have been odd during those first few exchanges between you and him, where conversations had to be coaxed out of him through reassurances and almond tofu. However, with your growing relationship, he would always tell you what he saw on his trips out (in his own unembellished way).

“Did you see any crystalflies yesterday evening?” you asked, putting your book aside and swinging over to sit next to him. “The weather is warming up, so I imagine there must be lots of them out.” 

You tipped your head to try and see his eyes hidden behind his hair. Xiao gave an affirmative grunt. “Yes, I did.” His gaze never left the blade of his spear, fixated on his seemingly onerous polishing task. 

“Xiao, is there something wrong?” You put a hand on his forearm, immediately halting his movements. “You’re much quieter than usual, and your spear is so well-polished I can see your own reflection in it”. You chuckled, hoping to ease any tension. He softened at your concern.

“I’m alright, you needn’t worry. I just had something I need your… mortal expertise on.”

Ah, of course! You felt relieved. It was only natural for Xiao to be nervous about confiding that. He had only begun to be open about his curiosity with humans.

“There is a mortal tradition,” he began slowly, picking his words carefully. “When someone must leave their partner for the day, they usually engage in a kind of… affectionate physical exchange to mark their temporary absence.”

You paused. A physical exchange?

“Well, yes! Before they leave each other for a day, a couple will typically kiss each other,” you mused, “It’s seen as a romantic gesture since it signifies-”

You heard Xiao suck in a breath as he tipped his head forward, further blocking out your view of him. He held his face in one gloved hand. 

“I- I see,” he stuttered, the words tumbling out of him to prevent you from further elaborating. He suddenly stood up. His spear disappeared as he willed it away and he turned to face you. “Well then, I will be leaving for the night”. 

You had a clear view of him now. His cheeks were flushed a bright pink and his eyes darted everywhere besides your face. He finally risked a glance at you. Realisation suddenly hit you. 

“Xiao, are you asking for a kiss from me before you leave?” You couldn’t even finish the question without cracking a smile. You were practically beaming at him.  The weather tonight was warmer, but he felt like he was suddenly heating up at how brightly you grinned. 

“Perhaps, yes,” he admitted. Quickly, he followed by saying, “It was something I observed from afar from those similar to us in closeness, but you do not need to…”, his voice dwindled a little, “indulge me if you do not want to partake in similar actions”. 

You stood up, closing the gap between the two of you. Xiao was startled by your movements. 

“Your study of mortals is an accurate one indeed.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. A dangerously close distance that had Xiao holding his breath. His arms instinctively circled your waist. Xiao knew that he was, regrettably, a novice at these sorts of things. It brought a great struggle within him when he saw your hands resting idly against a railing, or your hair falling loose against your face. In his mind, he would picture holding your hand in his, or brushing your hair away, but when it came to actioning these moves, he felt flustered. The fear of making a wrong move was too great for him to do anything. However, he always found comfort in your words. 

‘Don’t force yourself, okay?’ You had told him this after one of the first times you suddenly hugged him, and he had stood stiffly in your arms. Xiao remembered mentally punching himself after the encounter. ‘We have all the time we need, there’s no rush.’

Could he be the one who initiated these types of things? He pictured himself leaning down and kissing you. Stealing the move away from you. There was no mistaking your intention in wanting this too. All he had to do was do it. Your voice brought him away from his thoughts. 

“And of course I’d like to kiss you!” You said fervidly. “You’re my partner, I’d do anything-”

Your words were cut off. Oh, was all that passed your mind when Xiao leaned in. Your mind spun. His lips were gentle against your own, but hesitant. His worries felt palpable against your skin. Slowly, you deepened the kiss. It was an assurance of many things. That you were proud of him for opening up to you, that he wasn’t messing anything up, that you were enjoying his company. His lips… are surprisingly soft… Did he apply some kind of balm to them beforehand!? 

Xiao’s heart hammered in his chest. He was beside himself with uncharacteristic elation. The only things he could sense now was the electricity between your bodies, and the subtle, violetgrass scent of your hair. He pulled away first, fearing that he would not be able to leave for patrol that night if he stayed. Looking into your eyes for any sign of disappointment, he saw only the way your eyes sparkled with delight. 

“I… I hope I didn’t scare you,” Xiao whispered, holding you tighter. “May I have another tomorrow night?”

#✏️〰odorawrites #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #xiao fluff #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you

[lvoryingrid]

The Cabin In The Woods

Levi x fem!Reader

Synopsis: In the midst of a Titan battle, Levi Ackerman and (Y/n) seek shelter in a forest cabin. The rivalry between them turns into an unexpected intimacy as subtle touches escalate.

Warning: 🔞 minors do not read/interact : contains 18+ content, smut/erotica

The battlefield was a symphony of chaos, with the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air. Levi Ackerman, humanity's greatest hope, moved with unparalleled grace, his blades dancing through the tumult like a deadly waltz. Thunderous roars of Titans reverberated around him, accompanied by the desperate cries of soldiers caught in the merciless grip of the war.

Amidst the swirling dust and smoke, Levi's steel-blue gaze focused on (Y/n)’s face. Her movements were a ballet of survival, each strike a testament to her unyielding determination. As their eyes met in a fleeting moment, a silent understanding passed between them, a recognition of the shared struggle against a common enemy.

"(Y/n)! Watch your left flank!" Levi's voice cut through the cacophony, a sharp command born of necessity rather than animosity. She shot him a quick glance, a mixture of irritation and acknowledgment in her eyes. "I don't need you to babysit me, Captain!"

The Titans closed in, and Levi fought with a controlled fury, dispatching the colossal foes with calculated precision. Yet, in the back of his mind, a growing unease nagged at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that time was slipping away, that the stakes were higher than ever.

In the midst of the relentless battle, Levi and (Y/n) found themselves back to back, defending each other against the onslaught. The clash of steel against Titan flesh created a chaotic melody, punctuated by the occasional exchange of glances and shared determination.

Levi smirked, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. "Just making sure you don't get yourself killed. Wouldn't want you to miss out on the chance to lose to me again."

Her response was a scoff, but there was a glimmer of a smirk hidden beneath the exterior. "You wish, Captain. I can handle myself just fine. I just don't want to waste my energy saving your sorry ass," she shot back, a glint of camaraderie in her eyes."

Levi raised an eyebrow, a hint of annoyance breaking through his stern expression. "Don't get too cocky. We've got a long way to go."

The battlefield gradually fell silent as Levi and (Y/n) found themselves veering away from the main force, their surroundings becoming a dense forest. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the landscape as ominous clouds gathered overhead. The first droplets of rain splattered against their uniforms, gradually evolving into a relentless downpour.

Levi cast a sideways glance at (Y/n), raindrops clinging to her disheveled (h/c) hair. "We need to find shelter before we get drenched. HQ can wait until tomorrow."

(Y/n) shot him a defiant look, raindrops clinging to her disheveled hair. "I don't need you to state the obvious, Captain. I'm not stupid."

Levi rolled his eyes, his annoyance evident. "Just follow my lead and try not to slow me down."

They trudged deeper into the forest, the tension between them palpable. The rain intensified, turning the path ahead into a muddy quagmire. The sound of raindrops pelting leaves and the distant rumble of thunder echoed through the trees, creating an atmosphere thick with unease.

Levi's sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for any sign of shelter. "There should be a safehouse not too far from here. We can regroup and head to HQ in the morning."

As they ventured deeper, the tension between them gave way to an unspoken understanding. The rivalry that had defined their interactions now danced on the edge of something more—a raw and unexplored passion simmering beneath the surface.

Finally, through the dense trees, a dilapidated cabin emerged. The wood creaked and groaned under the rain, but it seemed like the only refuge they had. Levi pushed the door open, and they entered, their soaked uniforms clinging to their bodies.

The cabin's interior was dimly lit, shadows playing on the worn walls. Levi couldn't ignore the flicker of vulnerability in (Y/n)'s eyes, her guard momentarily down. "We'll stay here for the night. Tomorrow, we head to HQ."

(Y/n) nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The air in the cabin crackled with tension as they realized the close quarters they'd be sharing. The rivalry that had fueled their interactions now seemed like a thin veil hiding a deeper connection.

As the storm outside intensified, the two found themselves huddled in the cabin, the air thick with unspoken words. The flickering lantern cast shadows on Levi's face, accentuating the lines of fatigue and determination.

"I never thought I'd find myself stuck in a creepy cabin with you," (Y/n) teased, a small smile playing on her lips.

Levi's stoic exterior cracked just a bit, a subtle smirk appearing. "Consider it a special fucking treat."

Levi's keen eyes scanned the dimly lit cabin, searching for any available resources. Spotting a stack of old planks in the corner, he gathered them and set to work on starting a fire. The flickering flames cast a warm glow across the worn interior, revealing the exhaustion etched on both their faces.

As the fire began to crackle, Levi glanced over at (Y/n), who stood shivering in the corner, her wet clothes clinging to her like a second skin. With a barely audible sigh, he got up, his movements purposeful. "Stay put."

(Y/n) shot him a skeptical look but complied, watching as Levi disappeared into the shadows of the cabin. He returned moments later, holding a dusty, moth-eaten blanket. Without a word, he tossed it towards her.

"Here, wrap yourself in this. Your clothes are soaked, remove them" Levi instructed, his tone gruff but carrying an underlying concern.

(Y/n) caught the blanket, eyeing him warily. "You're not planning to play the hero, are you?"

Levi raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanging. "Don't get any ideas. I'm not doing this for you; it's for my own peace of mind. I don't need you catching a cold and slowing us down tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes, attempting to brush off the subtle act of kindness. "Well, aren't you just a gentleman in shining armor."

Levi scowled, irritation flickering across his features. "Quit the sarcasm and do as I say. It's practical, not chivalry."

Levi's gaze flickered away as (Y/n) began to peel off her wet clothes, the fire's dim light casting an ethereal glow on her silhouette. She could feel the weight of his discomfort, a strange mixture of vulnerability and an unfamiliar tension in the air.

"(Y/n), don't make this more awkward than it needs to be. Just get dry," Levi muttered, his eyes fixed on the fire in a futile attempt to avoid the scene unfolding before him.

(Y/n) shot him a wry grin, her usual defiance cutting through the air. "Oh, Captain, can't handle a little skin? I thought you were supposed to be a tough guy."

Levi scowled, irritation evident. "This isn't the time for your sarcasm. Just get yourself warmed up and get some rest. We have a long day ahead."

As she covered herself with the blanket, the glow of the fire outlined the curves and scars on her body. Levi couldn't help but steal a glance, the flicker of the flames highlighting the strength and resilience etched into every mark. For a moment, the intensity of their rivalry faded, and Levi found himself oddly captivated by the vulnerability in front of him.

(Y/n) caught the fleeting look in his eyes, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Captain, I never thought I'd see the day when the great Levi, would be caught ogling."

Levi's cheeks tinged with a hint of red, a rare occurrence for the stoic soldier. "I'm not ogling. Just making sure you're not going to collapse from exhaustion."

She chuckled, the sound echoing in the quiet cabin. "Sure, Captain. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

The rain continued its relentless assault on the cabin's roof, creating a soothing backdrop to the awkward tension that hung in the air. As (Y/n) settled under the blanket, she couldn't resist the opportunity to further tease Levi, who was doing his best to avoid eye contact.

"Captain," she called out with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "aren't you feeling a bit chilly yourself? You look like you've taken a swim in the river."

Levi shot her an annoyed glare, his irritation evident. "I'm fine. This isn't a cozy campfire, and I'm not here for your entertainment."

(Y/n) chuckled, undeterred by his gruff demeanor. "Oh, come on, Captain. We wouldn't want you catching a cold now, would we? That'd be a tragedy."

Levi clenched his jaw, his annoyance reaching new heights. "I don't need your concern, and I certainly don't need your commentary. Just get some rest."

But (Y/n), never one to back down from a little banter, decided to up the ante. With a sly smile, she shifted under the blanket, feigning a shiver. "You sure about that, Captain? Your teeth seem to be doing a little dance there. Maybe we should huddle together for warmth."

Levi's eyes narrowed, a barely audible growl escaping his throat. "I said, I'm fine."

Undeterred, she continued to playfully prod him. "You know, it's scientifically proven that body heat is the best way to stay warm. Just saying."

Levi shot her a withering look, his annoyance now accompanied by a faint blush. "I don't need your suggestions, and I certainly don't need to 'scientifically prove' anything with you."

(Y/n) couldn't help but laugh at his expense. "Relax, Captain. I'm just messing with you. No need to get all hot and bothered."

Levi rolled his eyes, his frustration evident. "I'm not bothered. Just get some rest before I decide to leave you out in the rain."

She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, Captain, if you change your mind and decide you need some warmth, I'll be right here."

The rain outside showed no signs of letting up, and despite Levi's attempts to brush off the chill, his trembling form betrayed the cold that had settled into his bones. (Y/n), under the worn-out blanket, couldn't help but notice the subtle shivers that ran through him.

"You're freezing, Captain," she remarked with a raised eyebrow, her teasing tone giving way to genuine concern.

Levi shot her a glare, his pride evident. "I've faced worse than a bit of rain."

(Y/n) sighed, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "You can drop the tough act, Levi. We're not in the middle of a battlefield now. We're just two people trying to stay warm."

Levi scowled but didn't offer any further protest. The truth was, the relentless rain had taken its toll, and his ego was the only thing keeping him from admitting it. With a begrudging acknowledgment, he finally mumbled, "Fine, but don't get any ideas."

(Y/n) chuckled, shifting to make room for him under the blanket. "No promises, Captain. Just trying to survive the night."

Levi shot her a warning look before begrudgingly starting to remove his wet clothes. The fire's dim light flickered over his scars and the defined muscles that spoke of years of battles. As he shuffled into the blanket, (Y/n) couldn't help but smirk at the irony of their situation.

"See? That's not so bad, is it?" she teased, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Levi grunted in response, avoiding eye contact. "This doesn't change anything. I'm only doing this to shut you up."

The fire's dying embers cast a soft glow across the cabin, and with every flicker, Levi and (Y/n) found themselves drawn closer under the blanket. The initial distance that had defined their makeshift alliance began to close, replaced by a palpable tension that hung in the air like the storm outside.

Levi, still maintaining a semblance of stoicism, shifted slightly, unintentionally brushing against (Y/n). The brief contact sent a shiver down both their spines, an electric charge that neither could ignore. The subtle touches, once accidental, now held a weight of unspoken possibilities.

"(Y/n), watch where you're putting your damn elbows," Levi grumbled, his attempt to mask the underlying tension evident in the gruffness of his voice.

She shot him a sidelong glance, a playful glint in her eyes. "Captain, I can't control where my elbows go. Maybe you're just too close."

Levi scowled but didn't pull away, the proximity between them amplifying the uncharted territory they found themselves navigating. The cabin, once just a refuge from the storm, became a space where the lines between rivalry and something more blurred.

As the rain outside dwindled to a gentle patter, the quiet cabin seemed to amplify the sound of their breaths. The air became charged with a quiet anticipation, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

(Y/n) couldn't resist the temptation, her hand subtly finding its way to Levi's arm. The touch, feather-light and seemingly innocent, sent a shockwave through both of them. Levi's gaze flickered towards her, a silent acknowledgment of the shift in dynamics.

Levi cleared his throat, attempting to break the tension. "Keep your damn hands to yourself."

(Y/n) smirked, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on his arm. "I'm just trying to stay warm."

Levi, irritated by the unexpected turn of events and the unsettling tension in the air, decided to retaliate in his own way. With a calculated smirk, he shifted closer to (Y/n), his fingers gently trailing along her arm in a manner that mirrored her earlier touch.

"Don't get too comfortable. This isn't an invitation," Levi remarked, his voice carrying a mix of annoyance and amusement.

She raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving her face. "Oh, Captain, didn't know you had it in you. Looks like the great Captain can't resist a little intimacy."

Levi scowled, attempting to maintain his composure. "This is purely practical. Don't read too much into it."

The banter continued, each subtle touch carrying an undercurrent of challenge. As the cabin remained shrouded in the quiet sounds of the rain and crackling fire, the atmosphere became charged with an unexpected energy.

In a moment of boldness, (Y/n) decided to turn the tables. Her fingers trailed along Levi's jawline, a playful glint in her eyes. "Captain, you're not fooling anyone. I can feel the heat radiating off you."

Levi's breath caught in his throat for a split second, his usual stoic facade momentarily faltering. "I told you, it's for warmth. Nothing more."

But (Y/n) wasn't deterred, her touch becoming more deliberate. "You know, Captain, sometimes actions speak louder than words."

"You're pushing your luck," Levi growled, the lines of annoyance and desire blurring in his eyes.

She met his gaze with a challenging stare, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Is that a threat, Captain? Or perhaps an invitation?"

Levi, not one to back down, closed the remaining distance between them, grabbing her by her hair. The frustration that had simmered beneath the surface now boiled over, fueling a passion neither had expected. In a moment of heated intensity, their lips collided, a clash of desire that silenced the banter and left only the echoes of their shared breaths.

The kiss, at first fueled by frustration, quickly morphed into something deeper—an exploration of uncharted territories and emotions that neither had dared to acknowledge. As their lips moved in a rhythm born of a newfound connection, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tempest of emotions within the cabin.

When they finally broke apart, (Y/n) and Levi were left breathless, their eyes locked in a silent understanding that transcended words. The fire, though now reduced to embers, seemed to burn brighter in the aftermath of their passionate exchange.

Levi, his usual composure momentarily shattered, struggled to find the right words. "This... doesn't change anything. We're not suddenly buddy buddy because of a kiss."

(Y/n), a flush of warmth coloring her cheeks, smiled with a hint of mischief. "Who said it had to? Maybe it's just something between us, Captain."

Her words sent a thrill of anticipation through Levi, and he felt himself grow hard against her. Unable to contain himself any longer, Levi roughly pushed (Y/n) back against the floor, pinning her beneath him. Her eyes widened in surprise, but there was a spark of anticipation in their depths that told him she wasn't entirely opposed to this development.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against her neck, as he whispered "Is that what you want?" he growled, his voice gruff, rough with desire. "Do you want me to touch you, that bad?" As he felt her nipples harden beneath his palms. He cupped her breasts, playing with them before lifting them so he could kiss and suckle her nipples.

(Y/n) arched her back, pressing her breasts further into Levi's hands as his lips and tongue teased her nipples mercilessly. She could feel the heat rising within her, spreading like electricity through her entire body. "Levi" she moaned, her voice breathy and needy. "Yes, please, touch me."

"Do you want me to make you feel good?" His fingers, reached down her body playing with her pussy, as he continued the relentless teasing, and she could feel the pressure building inside her, making her body tremble with anticipation. "Oh, please, yes," she moaned a hint of impatience in her voice, arching her back even further, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. "I want you."

Levi smiled wickedly, his eyes glinting with lust. "Tell me what you want," he commanded, still teasing her with his fingers. "Tell me how bad you want this."

"I want you inside me," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. "I want you to fuck me so hard I can't think about anything else." Her hips bucked upward, seeking the connection she ached for, and his thumb brushed against her clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

With one swift movement, Levi positioned himself between her spread legs, his erection pressing against her wet folds. Smirking at the thought that he barely touched her and she was that wet for him. He leaned in, his lips finding her ear, and growled, "I've wanted this since the moment I fucking met you. Fuck you so hard you won't be able to say anything else but my name" With that, he pushed himself inside her, filling her up in one deep stroke that made her cry out in pleasure.

As Levi thrust into her, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this small, intimate space. The sounds of their bodies colliding and the wet slapping of skin on skin, filled the air. He moved with a savage grace that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her veins, his powerful body braced above hers. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she met his thrusts, their hips moving in perfect rhythm.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes squeezed shut as she surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. The tension that had built up within her since their confrontation finally released, coursing through her like an electric current. She arched her back off the floor, her nails digging deeper into his shoulders as she felt the familiar tightening in her core.

"Oh, god, Levi," she moaned, her voice hoarse from the effort of keeping up with his pace. "Don't stop." she said as her hands found their way to his dark hair.

He growled, his lips finding her neck, leaving a mark as he thrust harder, deeper. "I'm not going to stop. Not until you're screaming for more." His hips slammed against hers again and again, the friction building up with each passing second.

The air in the room seemed to crackle with the intensity of their passion, and she could feel the heat of his body against hers, his sweat mingling with hers. Her muscles began to quiver, her orgasm barreling down on her like a runaway train.

"Levi," she cried out, her body tensing as the wave of pleasure washed over her.

His movements became even more frenzied, his thrusts more urgent as he felt her body begin to convulse around him. With a harsh groan, he threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, and emptied himself inside her.

As the last shudders of pleasure subsided, Levi collapsed on top of her, his weight pressing her into the carpet. He held her close, his breathing labored as he tried to catch his breath. After a moment, he looked down at her with a satisfied smirk and muttered, "You're such a fucking brat."

Despite the harsh words, there was a possessive fondness in his tone that she couldn't help but feel warm inside. He rolled off her, propping himself up on one elbow as he gazed down at her, his eyes trailing down her body.

"Next time, it'll be in a cleaner environment," he said with a wink. "I'll make sure we have a bed or something."

"You're unbelievable," she remarked, her eyes meeting Levi's with a mixture of amusement and warmth. The flickering light cast a gentle glow over the scene, highlighting the vulnerability beneath their tough exteriors.

With a swift motion, he covered their bodies with the blanket, the warmth of the fabric cocooning them in a shared space. "You know, your scientific facts might have some truth to them."

Masterlist

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot x reader #levi aot #captain levi #aot levi #levi attack on titan #levi heichou #snk levi #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #levi x y/n #one shot #smut #aot smut #levi smut

[mr-mandalorian]

there was sturmhond’s second in command, the princess that never was.

nikolai lantsov x reader, arranged marriage, angst/comfort, haven’t read to books so this strictly follows season 2

she was promised to the second prince. she didn’t know it at the time, but nikolai was the one to plead his parents to accept the deal. what a scene she caused that day, her father squeezing her arm a little too tight as he presented her to the royal family. she was all polite smiles and curated answers, her beauty undeniable in her satin gown. it was a perfected act, nikolai could only watch in amusement as guards swarmed her. when he reached to greet her with a kiss on her hand, she slashed at him with a hidden blade.

from that moment on, he knew that she would always be the woman to hold his heart.

and she hated herself for harboring similar feelings. she was an only daughter, an asset her father was sure to exploit. the last thing she expected was to find a kind man by her side, one who shared the same distaste for arranged union. when nikolai was preparing for sea, he didn’t ask for her to follow him. she was free to do as she pleased, and yet she chose to go after him.

and she was proving herself to be a valuable part of the crew. direct yet diplomatic, trusted by all as she unintentionally took the place of second in command. at times when there was a difficult decision to make, she felt crowds of eyes pointed at her instead of their captain. she didn’t mean to overstep, but the prince never dimmed her light.

she watched as the first army bowed to nikolai, the ravkan wind suffocating compared to the salt water breeze. and when no one took notice of the soon to be princess, she stayed silent. she should’ve been pleased, no longer a bride but just an acquaintance of nikolai’s that happened to tag along. and yet somehow it stung, feeling restless and out of place in the spinning wheel.

so when nikolai proposed to alina and turned to her for approval, she could only offer him stunned silence. y/n was no fool, she understood the need for this calculated move. and who was she to deny him? a prince was free to do his own bidding.

“dorogoya, please say something. it’s not like you-“

“right away, my prince.” she wished for the earth to open and swallow her whole, how embarrassing as she fumbled with her pockets, looking for the piece of jewelry that was just another secret out at sea. “you’ll be needing this.”

“you- you had this with you the entire time?” nikolai couldn’t help but grin as she revealed the engagement ring. he understood the weight of it, how she was never given a choice of who got to place it on her finger. and yet, when she was free to get rid of it, she continued to keep it on her person.

“just in case i needed something to trade if you ever got captured by pirates again.” she tried to save grace, ears tinting pink.

“you wound me, moya lyubov. you know i’m too good to let it happen again.”

his charm wasn’t working, y/n not in the mood for pet names without meaning. her eyes found alina and mal on the other side of the room, having their own quarrel about the proposal. she couldn’t help but feel like her and the tracker were the same.

“y/n, listen. i know you never wanted this and now we have a reason to end it. take as much as you need, your father won’t hear a word about it. return to sea, or-“ he cleared his throat, somehow more nervous asking this than her hand in marriage. “or stay as my advisor. it would be foolish of me to let go of your talents.”

hearing these words years ago would’ve had her over the moon. she’d be overjoyed, running through the door without saying goodbye. and yet she found herself unable to move, her breath hitching at his offer. he was giving her a reason to stay.

“i suppose it would be dangerous to leave you without supervision.” she tried her best to look nonchalant, but if a heartrender walked by, surely they’d think she was having a heart attack.

watching sturmhond flirt his way out of tricky situations was one thing, but seeing the way the prince treated his new lyubov was another. it was once y/n that got to intertwine their fingers, got to hear sweet nothings fall from his lips. it was all pretend but she couldn’t help the ugly feeling blooming inside her chest.

“i see changing brides is as easy as changing clothes, brother.” vasily mused after the engagement became public over dinner.

“good riddance to that feral girl you were so obsessed with before, no amount of money attached to her family could make her a worthy princess.” the queen nodded along, eyeing her second son.

alina watched as nikolai flexed his jaw, ignoring his family. instead his eyes were roaming the crowd, searching for someone. and when he found who he was looking for, alina had to bite down a gasp. there was sturmhond’s second in command, the princess that never was.

“y/n, it seems congratulations are in order.” zoya leaned over the the table, a smirk painted on her lips. “you’ve managed to escape a boring, pompous royal life.”

“pardon?” tamar leaned in just as close from the other side, nearly brushing noses with zoya.

“seriously? am i the only one who remembers that y/n was promised to nikolai?” the squaller stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. it should’ve been, but people only cared for saints.

y/n placed a gentle hand on tamar’s shoulder, ordering her friend to back down. instead she raised her glass, deciding the next best thing was to drown her sorrows. and soon she was laughing, her head thrown back like she was back at sea, enjoying a late night drink with her crew. with liquid courage and burning cheeks, she extended her hand to mal. she felt the need to cheer the tracker up.

her vision was becoming difficult as she danced, failing to notice that mal had twirled her into someone else’s arms. it was only when he spoke did she realize the warm hand on the small of her back belonged to her beloved prince.

“i barely get to see you now, moya lyubimaya.”

“don’t call me that.” she exhaled in content, resting her head on his chest as they swayed to the slow song playing.

“it’s never bothered you before.”

“i didn’t care if it was real or not before.” she admitted, the poison in her veins untying her tongue.

“and what if i said it had always been real, moya lyubimaya?”

“i would call you a liar.” she looked up at him, so beautiful with her doe eyes and long lashes. and then she was pulling away, leaving the prince lonely in a room full of people.

there was little time for sulking after that. the spinning wheel fell under attack and y/n was second in command once again. it was like second nature to stand besides nikolai, ordering people around and keeping the situation from spiraling further. when he was mulling over what to do with genya, she threw a warning glance his way. if an advisor he wanted, an advisor he would get.

there was no denying that they were good together. even when it came to facing the darkling and his army of grisha and shadow, y/n never lost her head. that was until the church, until a certain sharp shooting durast trapped them inside with a shadow of the size of two men. that was the only time y/n didn’t think, she just did as she pushed the now king out of the way, shielding him from the monster coming his way.

she couldn’t remember much after, just fragments of conversations and trembling hands trying to glue her back together. the thought of nikolai safe and sound lulled her to sleep.

when she rose, she was met with genya’s wide eyes. she was tending to her wound, the awful gash on y/n’s abdomen requiring everyday tailoring. the grisha smiled then, a genuine smile for the first time in days. she pulled away to reveal the king asleep in a chair next to y/n’s bed.

“wouldn’t leave your side.” genya whispered before walking over to wake him.

it was like he was struck by lightning, nearly tripping over himself as he rushed to the woman’s bedside. grasping her hand tightly in his, he thanked the saints with tears in his eyes.

“please, moy tsar, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“you will send me to an early grave, woman.”

“clearly, it will be the other way around.” she dared to glance down, genya having left her abdomen exposed. it wasn’t pretty, thick dark stitching slicing her belly in half. she nearly jumped out of her skin as the king placed his palm on top of it.

“see this scar?”

he nodded towards his hand, revealing a long pale line trailing through all of his fingers.

“this is where you cut me the day we met. i refuse to get it tailored, to keep as reminder of you everywhere i go.”

“nikolai-“

“i know it was an act of protest, but you had me falling head over heels. from that moment on, i knew you’d be the one for me. my second in command, i would fall apart without you by my side. i had this whole grand gesture planned, to make up for how you were treated before. but i can’t wait a second longer.”

he pulled out the ring y/n had returned him. suddenly it held no weight to it, it was light as a feather sitting on her finger. like it was always meant to be there.

“and what of your pervious engagement?”

“well my advisor was out of commission for a while, so i haven’t really thought it through.” she rolled her eyes at the king’s teasing. but she couldn’t help but allow herself to smile, wiping the smug look off his face with a kiss.

#nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov #sturmhond x reader #sturmhond x you #shadow and bone

[cowyolks]

SWEET ELIXIR

Pairing: Vampire!Keegan Russ x Female!Reader

Prompt: After an unfortunate capture, Keegan is held hostage by the Federation. Unable to break his tough resolve, Rorke injects him with a new type of drug, something that makes him inhuman. Now a blood sucking monster, Keegan is turned loose with the objective to hunt his fellow teammates, including you.

Words: 5.2 k

Warnings: Keegan is a horny vampire, Biting, Blood Kink, Oral (f receiving), Fingering, Blood sucking, P in V sex, creampie, obsession with pulse points, typical COD violence, a lil bit of cock warming to balance it all out. And I feel as if whiny Keegan needs it’s own warning.

A/n: this took too long. Bite me! Get it?

“You’re a tough son of a bitch to find.” The familiar growl of a former teammate met his ringing ears rather roughly.

If he was able to lift his head, he may have considered spitting on Rorke’s face in angry retaliation. But Keegan felt numb, he could no longer feel his fingertips against the cold restraints of his prison cell. His bare torso was more black and blue than his actual skin tone, and blood dripped from his torso down to his pants.

He was dying, that much he knew.

Yet, the Ghost would rather take a stabbing blade one hundred times to the heart than let the federation capture you.

He’d do anything. Fight anyone. Bear any wound or torture just to know you were safe. And maybe that made him foolish, and for that he’d willingly be called a fool.

It was supposed to be a simple scout mission, to access the liveliness of a border camp that the Federation had set up just on the outskirts of San Francisco. It was you and him, the quiet ones of the Ghosts.

You were a lethal one, always quick and steady on your feet. It had gotten you in trouble before ODIN, often times you’d be reprimanded by your Drill Sergeants before you eventually fell under the command of Elias Walker. You were forever in his debt, because now, you found a family you’d never known.

You’d been trying to crack Keegan’s shell ever since Operation Sand Viper. You were both so young back then, fresh out of High School and foolishly trying to prove yourselves. You’d fought tooth and nail with him the first few years, always attempting to one up each other.

Now, you worked as a well oiled machine. You covered his back, he shielded yours.

He smiled through the pain as he recalled how he’d been captured. You’d been so excited to go with him on the mission, the two of you hadn’t had any alone time in months. Simply resolving in hidden affections of stolen kisses and longing caresses he’d wished were more.

He’d finished scouting the camp, taking notes and envisioning tactics to take on the tangos once Ajax, Merrick, and Kick joined in. You were next to him, crouched down and putting your binoculars away.

“I gotcha something.” You hummed as you silently continued to shuffle through your pack.

His eyes fell away from the camp in finality, stepping back into the cover of everglade and leaves. His gaze softened slightly as he took you in, a faint crinkle catching upon the corner of his eyes.

You held out the faded package to him with a giddy look, and although your nose and lips were covered by your mask, he could still see just how happy you were to gauge his reaction. He felt his own lips pull against the worn fabric of his mask, a twinkle in his eyes as he studied the package now in his palm.

A honeybun.

He chuckled silently at the offering. You’d been quick to catch onto Keegan’s undeniable sweet tooth. He was always one to raid safehouses and cars for any sweet he could get his hands on. Often times you’d find him sucking on peppermints to break his awful cigarette addiction, something you found slightly amusing.

You didn’t mind tasting mint on his lips.

“Where’d you find the time to snatch this?” His voice was rough from not speaking, but the soft edge was still heard. You simply shrugged, watching him tear open the package. “I have my ways.”

He split the stale cake into two pieces, offering one out to you, which you took graciously. It had been a long time since either of you had anything sweet, regardless of it being stale and expired.

You chewed upon the artificial pastry, grimacing at the taste that reminded you of sugary sawdust, yet Keegan seemed to be enjoying the treat regardless. He licked the crumbs from his fingers, his jaw ticking slightly from chewing, it had been a while since he shaved. Still the shadow growing on his cheeks definitely suited him.

“What’re you staring at, doll?”

You scoffed at his teasing tone, lightly giving him a shove. Just as you were about to retaliate a gunshot rang through the night air. On instinct, the two of you ducked, yet it was far easier for you to drop to the ground.

Keegan shouldered his rifle, eyes glinting as he clicked the safety off and turned into the direction he thought the shot came from.

“It came from East of us, about four o’clock.” His voice dropped into his usual ordering tone. But a slow sniffle made him drop his gaze to you. Your hand was clutched over your shoulder, red already leaking through your fingers and soaking your clothes.

“Fuck! Hang in there, beautiful,” he felt his heart drop, even though you were doing everything right—Putting pressure on the wound. His own hand covered yours, pushing down even harder. You whined in protest which had him cursing.

“I know, doll. I know it hurts, but keep that pressure.”

He pushed a hand to his comm, frantically shaking fingers nearly missing the open line. Your blood smeared across his face accidentally. He’d never been so sick by the thought.

“Merrick! Requesting immediate EVAC.” His voice was commanding, though it rang loosely like you were underwater. The bullet wound hurt like a toothache, a constant throb, that had your eyelids betraying you like an anchor to sea.

“Hey!” Keegan spoke above you, lightly patting upon your clothed cheek to keep you awake. “I told Merrick our exact coordinates. Stay put, I’ll draw them away.”

You hummed, before he grasped your chin between his fingers. “Tell me you understand.” He ordered, just as you weakly held up a thumbs up.

“I understand.”

With a nod, Keegan left the cover of the brush, and that was the last you saw before your eyes closed.

His head whipped to the side, a forceful smack hit the flesh so hard it had him spitting blood. His knuckles clenched bone white at his sides.

“I’ll give you one last chance, Soldier. Where are you Ghosts holed up?” Rorke’s voice sounded more distant than it was.

“Fuck… you.” Keegan grunted, a deranged smile painted against his lips as blood slicked upon his teeth. Rorke chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“Damn you Ghosts! Always so hard to break. But trust me, everyone has a breaking point. Even that little bird you have sleeping in your nest.” Rorke alluded to you, and it was enough for Keegan’s eyes to flare in anger.

“I think I’ll kill her last, she was always so weak.”

Keegan’s jaw clenched tightly, despite his numb body, he found courage to jolt forward, slamming his forehead into Rorke. The sound cracked across the cement walls, and while it sealed his fate, at least he got to hit the bastard one more time.

“Shouldn’t have done that, Russ.” Rorke growled, body swaying slightly before moving to the table designed for Keegan’s torture.

The Ghost’s eyes dropped to his lap, finally letting numbness take over as his eyes fluttered shut. Rorke’s footsteps approached, just as his large palm gripped upon Keegan’s neck, his pulse thumping dully. He tilted his head upwards, just as Keegan caught sight of the metallic syringe held in his opposite hand.

The fluid incased was a vibrant red, almost as if it was glowing. Yet, he didn’t seem to care as he slumped again, barely feeling the prick against his carotid artery. He’d hoped whatever he was being injected with would kill him. At least then he’d know you’d be safe and he wouldn’t have to keep up such a tough resolve.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, but if you won’t tell me where the Ghosts are, you’ll kill them for me.” His words had Keegan’s brow furrowing, but before he could even let his mind run, a blade entered between his ribs, plunging into his heart and killing him instantly.

It had been two days since you woke up in the med bay. Two days since Keegan was officially marked as M.I.A.

You exhaled, as you settled your mask over your nose, looking forward and nodding towards Merrick, who appeared grim on the other side of the chopper. It was obvious he didn’t like the idea of you out in the field with a freshly healed bullet wound, but Ghosts looked after each other and you’d be damned if you left any quadrant unturned. You’d find Keegan, if it was the last thing you did.

Your shoulder ached against the weight of your pack, but it didn’t stop you from heaving extra med packs. Merrick chewed upon his lip again, eyeing you warily. You couldn’t help but narrow your eyes. Remembering his conversation earlier of how you weren’t on your game, stating this rescue was too personal. You’d argued that this was Keegan.

A gentle palm landed on your uninjured shoulder, causing you to glance up again to see the former Seal staring down at you with uncharacteristically soft eyes.

“We’ll find him, I promise you that.”

You found yourself nodding, determination flaring in your very soul as you listened to Merrick give the rundown.

“We don’t have leeway to fly out until tomorrow, so conserve ammo and don’t get caught. We’ll split into quadrants. I’ll take West, Ajax cover North, Kick go South.”

That left you to East. Where Keegan was last seen. This was the quadrant you needed to be at, it would be the one with the most tracks.

“Speak limitedly. Remember we are in hostile territory.” Merrick sounded just as your feet hit the mossy ground with a plunk.

You nodded, before falling back into the dark wasteland of the forest. Crickets chirped against the overgrown roots and owls hooted from the shared branches. If it wasn’t for your situation, you’d definitely enjoy sitting upon a stump and listening to the sounds nature gave.

Light from the moon floated against the swaying leaves, although it definitely wasn’t enough to illuminate the way. With a click and a beep, you pulled your night vision gear down over your eyes.

It was eerily quiet, especially for a camp being only a couple hundred yards from your location. With a clenched jaw you pushed onwards, head on a swivel as you suppressed the queasy feeling from your gut.

You crouched under some brush when your eyes leveled with the small hunting cabin that the Federation soldiers were camped out at. Tents fluttered in the balmy breeze. It was disturbing, to see a camp with life and light now had none.

No lanterns, no fire, no electricity. Nothing.

That was definitely not what it was like two days ago. If anything, the federation soldiers were too easy to find. Loud and obnoxious as they drank alcohol and burnt their fires too high so smoke flew over the trees lines.

Now you heard nothing. Only the hoot of the owls and chirping crickets. It had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up straight.

With a little exhale, you crept onwards. Slowly inching to the corners of camp, where you maneuvered around several empty tents, the entrance flaps open and flowing in the breeze.

Your eyes followed a patch of trampled moss, something that indicated struggle. Your heart leapt at the clue, at least now you had a lead. You crouched, leveling with the path. It lead to the old cabin. Maybe, just maybe Keegan was there and licking his wounds.

A loud crack sounded in front of you, just beyond the wooden cabin and out into the forest. You already had your assault rifle pointed towards the noise, just as you began to advance.

It sounded of a broken twig, as if someone was discreetly spying upon your stalking form. Your back finally hit the wall of the cabin, before you hesitantly peaked around the corner. Your jaw clenched at the sight of four bodies all face down upon the moss.

Your heart dropped when you saw the familiar mask of a certain ghost, the material lay against the ground, torn.

“No,”

You dropped the rifle to the side of the wall without a second thought, rushing to the bodies, relieved when you saw the tuffs of blonde hair and unfamiliar clothes upon the three bodies. Blood dried in puddles, almost like a cushion. The color was a dark brown, they’ve been dead for a while. Your heart pounded as you approached the last body, dark hair cropped so much like Keegan’s— dark tactical gear as well.

The body was a few yards away from the others, moss upturned like someone had grappled with him before they fell. With shaky fingers you flipped the body over. You let out a watered gasp, relief wrapping you like a blanket when the glassy eyes staring back at you weren’t Keegans.

You studied the Soldier, noticing the dirt under his fingernails, the claw marks in the soil next to him made it seem like he was trying to crawl away. Then you noticed how little injuries this guy had. The other three had visible gunshot wounds, and as you looked closer you saw the smoky black shells of Keegan’s signature bullets.

This body, had no wounds. No bullet to the lungs or heart. You crouched lower, turning his face to the side.

You clenched your jaw when you caught the laceration upon his neck.

Teeth marks.

You stood quickly, turning to the side to where your rifle was resting against the side of the cabin.

It wasn’t there.

Instead a loud click echoed through the night, your mag falling to the dirt as you looked to the man who held upon your rifle. A man that should have been Keegan, if it wasn’t for the bright red eyes and crusted blood over his chin.

“Keegan?” You couldn’t help but whisper, nearly cringing when your words got caught in your throat. The man in front of you nodded, setting your rifle back in its original spot.

“How’s your wound?” He asked. You took a step backwards, upon seeing him advance slowly towards you. His eyes never leaving your wounded shoulder, where bandages still rested upon the flesh.

“What? Why haven’t you tried to radio us? I’ve been eating myself alive.” You wailed, attempting to ignore just how much your brain was telling you to run. Maybe the red in his eyes was simply an illusion, perhaps he popped a blood vessel.

The creature, Keegan held up a radio he fished from his pocket. You faintly made out the broken material from a couple yards away.

“Have you been here this whole time? You must be hungry?”

Keegan’s eyes dropped to the body near your feet, just as his gaze trailed up your own until they landed on your shoulder again. You swore his eyes grew darker as he bit on his lip.

“Yes I’m hungry.” He murmured.

Cautiously you took a step forward, observing the way his body stiffened and how he seemed to be holding his breath. His head tilted to the moss below, refusing to look you in your eyes.

As you grew closer your heart plunged deeper. His eyes were red, this wasn’t some illusion.

“What happened to you?”

Keegan peered down at you, his eyelashes sticking to his cheeks.

“I-I don’t know. I was captured. Tortured.” He huffed, taking a step back as he inhaled too strongly. He brought his hand up to his temples, rubbing furiously.

You gaped at him, how he escaped was beyond you, how he was standing with no visible injuries— it concerned you more than if he would have came back bloodied and bruised.

“I need to sit down, you’re too loud,” he growled. Faster than a blink, a literal blink Keegan disappeared from your view, only a shadow inside the cabin indicating he was crouched over a worn out sofa.

It was inhuman to move that fast. Still, you needed answers. You figured this wasn’t the most horrific thing you’ve faced as a soldier.

You were silent when you approached next, the only indication you were near was when a floorboard creaked from under your boots and the door clicked shut behind you. “Let me check for wounds.” You whispered, now more aware.

“I already did. All of them healed, as if I wasn’t tortured at all.”

Your hand flew to his shoulder at his defeated whine, so uncharacteristically like Keegan it scared you. His nose bumped against your wrist. He let out a deep inhale.

“I blacked out, woke up to a soldier guarding me in this house. He tried to run, but I killed him.” He wheezed.

“How’d you kill them?” You whispered into the dark room, knowing the answer, but wanting him to confirm it. Maybe he’d deny it, and you’d wake up from this horrifying nightmare.

Monsters didn’t exist. Vampires weren’t real. Still…..

“I-I bit his neck, I could hear his pulse, smell the blood. I…. Drank it.”

Your breathing picked up, something that Keegan picked up on immediately. He was up from the couch in a flash, cool palms laying upon your cheeks as he pleaded.

“I couldn’t help it! Something happened to me, Rorke he injected me with this drug, made me like this. He said I would kill you. All of the Ghosts.”

Your hands wrapped upon his wrists, eyes wide as you listened to his begging. This thing, it sounded like your Keegan, maybe with proper help he could be saved. Maybe.

“Do you… want to kill me?” You asked, glancing upwards as you saw his throat bob. Immediately he shook his head, red eyes boring into you as his fingertips pushed against your pulse.

“No. I love you too much to consider.” He vowed, hands reaching ever so gently down your sides in an unconscious practice, something he did so frequently in the confines of your quarters.

“But God, you smell so good.” He whined again, nose falling ever so gently to your thrumming pulse point. You were ashamed at how quickly heat rushed to your core. He was some type of monster now, yet, still you felt the sudden need to be with him.

A monster in a cabin, how ironically cliche.

As if to make matters worse, you felt his intake of breath, just as his fingertips dug hard into your hips, like he was anchoring himself to you.

It was wrong, definitely not morally correct to lean closer towards him. To smell his scent of hickory smoke and twang of blood. Still, you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the feel of him. He was still your Keegan, and maybe you could make adjustments of his situation as you went.

A low hiss alerted you to just how uncomfortable he must be. Whatever he was, a lust for blood made him dangerous. And here you were baiting him like a worm on a hook, ready to be swallowed whole.

“I need you…” he growled against the nape of your neck again, heat swelled to your stomach. You weren’t sure if he needed your blood or you, maybe he wanted both.

Without so much as a second, you let your mouth speak before your brain could keep up. “Then take me.”

It happened in a whirl, so fast that you didn’t even register that your head was perched against the soft plush of the old sofa. His hands were on you, one attached to your hip while the other cradled the back of your neck.

You gasped at your new position, yet Keegan seemed to care less as he maneuvered your head to his, lips hungrily falling to your own in desperation. He was never one to act so brash, always taking time to kiss you and prep you. Now, he seemed to let those morals fly out the window.

His mouth was warm against your own, his lips slotting hard enough to leave your own swelling and full. Once out of your dazed position, you reached upwards, going to wrap your arms around his torso to pull him ever so tight.

Then you heard the rip.

A slow whimper left your mouth as Keegan hesitated to pull away. Your hand reached for your shoulder, your thumb brushed against the damp liquid of your own blood.

Instantly you grew rigid at the red color, your guilty gaze finding that Keegan was already glancing at the blood pooled on your thumb. His eyes screwed shut, even though his hands were working at the harness and buckles of your pants. Likely, he was trying to keep himself busy, away from the surely pungent tang of your blood.

“Breaking my heart, doll.” Keegan muttered through hesitant inhales, as if he was getting used to the scent. “I’m sorry, I pulled on the stitches.” You muttered, slightly unconscious of your opposite hand trailing upon his pleasantly cool chest.

His head shook, knowing it wasn’t your fault that you had obtained the gunshot wound. It was his, he was supposed to protect you, as he was right now. As he always would, regardless of the sweet and irresistible scent of your blood.

“It’s not your fault. But my senses are stronger. I see things I never saw, feel things more intricately, smell things more intoxicating.”

He brought your thumb to his lips, the heat of his tongue sucking upon the drop of blood on the fingertip, “taste things that’s never been so sweet.”

He dropped your hand with delicate care, strange for his new form that reeked of destruction. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, biting down upon your lip as he sniffed the air again.

“I can smell your arousal, ya know?” He teased, a toothy grin revealing slightly sharper teeth— fangs. Your face grew red with embarrassment, as you typically did with Keegan’s bold behavior in the bedroom.

“So are you just going to smell it, or are you going to help me?” You whined, your arousal only soaring as Keegan tugged upon the waistband of your pants and pulled them off your legs in one fluid motion.

“Oh, doll. I can’t wait to taste you.” His hunger radiated around him in waves, even with the balmy night air in the barely lit cabin, you found yourself shivering. Shivering as he lowered himself down further upon the couch, placing teasingly slow kisses upon each of your hip bones. His hands trailed down your bare legs, the callouses of his palms scraping pleasantly down to your knees.

Your thighs were lifted, now prettily perched upon his broad shoulders. He’d had the audacity to look at you through red hooded eyes, burning a hole into your very soul as his fingertips traced patterns on your warm flesh.

Your breath hitched when he tilted his chin down, his nose brushing teasingly against the swelling bud of your clit. Then, a curse flew from your mouth as he licked a stripe against your cunt.

He was purring, a happy hum leaving his throat as he kissed gently upon your opening. Your head flew back against the velvet cushion of the couch, hands gripping for anything that would anchor you back to the earth.

The floating feeling only increased as his lips suctioned around your clit, a lewd slurping noise filling the air.

A hand went to his hair, the soft midnight tuffs more outgrown than he usually liked. His palm pushed you down further against his lips, the feeling he brought you was much alike electricity— Alive, breathless, euphoric.

His other hand drifted down your thigh, the rough pads of his fingertips providing a beautiful contract that always drove you over the edge. So much blood on his hands, on his ledger, and yet he loved you so well.

The gentle push of his finger against your entrance had you moaning, the breach being enough to have the knot in your stomach pull taut. You wouldnt last long at the pace he was going, and judging by the smile printed against your inner thigh, Keegan knew it as well.

“You taste better than I remember, God.” He whined as if you were pleasuring him instead, his finger still worked in tangent, slick echoing against the skin in a dirty symphony. He added another, curling the digits against your walls just as he dove back in, flicking his tongue upon your overstimulated clit.

You clutched onto his head as you released against him, a slight growl falling from his lips as you echoed his name into the night. His fingers slipped from you with a pop, and just when you thought he would resurface, his lips parted again, falling to your opening. His tongue pushed into you, swirling heavenly as he lapped up all of your previous orgasm.

The sensation made you see stars, but he became ever so aware of what you wanted now. Your fingers clutched onto the collar of his ripped long sleeve, the material accenting his rippling biceps and chest nicely, yet you wanted nothing but to take it off. Keegan granted the silent command, pulling away from your weeping cunt and shimmying out of his pants and pulling his shirt over his head. You found yourself taking off your vest and shirt as well.

He leant over you like a sinner, praying to his God. His knees dropped to the far end of the sofa, just so his weight hovered over the top of you like a longing shadow, desperate to touch the object it always followed. His eyes were round and lusting as they took you in. You did the same.

He was beautiful. The moon overcasting his back and showcasing the upturnt scars and hardships in a milky glow. He was effortlessly strong, effortlessly comforting, and effortlessly eternal all in one. Your hand trailed down the soft curves of his chest, to his stomach. Goosebumps following after your fingers, as your nails scratched against the fine muscle of his abdomen.

Your hand flowed down his body like a gentle wave, when finally you reached his cock. He was painfully erect, the head of him leaking a fair amount of pre-cum. You chuckled silently into the night— as if you needed more slick, You’d swallow him whole, as you always did.

Your thumb brushed against his slit, massaging the cum down his shaft in a painfully slow motion that had him yelping desperately. His stubbled cheek once again found the slot between your shoulder, the tough hairs scratching pleasantly against your neck.

You pumped him, the sheer size of the ghost was always a surprise to you. His cock was lengthy and thick, no matter how much he attempted to warm you up, he still burrowed and stretched your walls to the maximum. Oh, how you loved it.

He held his breath as you lined him up to your entrance, not before brushing his head to gather the most of your slick.

“Ready?” He asked through a barely contained growl.

“Fuck me…” you murmured through a lustful stupor, finding yourself entrapped in his crimson stare as he angled his upper body above you. His arms caged by your head, meeting with your eyes he plunged into you, a slow hiss fell from his lips as he breached ever so slowly. Your own eyes fluttered at the sudden fullness he provided you with.

His head flew back as he whined, likely his unwavering control slipping inch by inch. Steadily you pulled his chin to your face and attached your lips again, providing a heavenly distraction as you tasted yourself upon his tongue.

He sheathed himself into you, biting upon your lip gently as he felt your walls flutter around him.

“So warm, doll.” He pulled away slightly to praise. Your stomach fluttered at his words, you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, nearly whimpering when he pulled halfway out of your cunt.

He was ruthless as he slammed back down, making the breath fall out of your lungs in a violent symphony. He set the pace roughly, making you release a series of moans and pleads of his name.

His hands were everywhere all at once. His palms hiked upward on your thighs, pushing you into him while you subconsciously wrapped them around his hips in a constricted and possessive grip. The other flew to your breasts, kneading the flesh in a harsh hold. His fingertips pinched upon the hardening bud of your nipple, making you release a satisfied gasp.

“Keegan…. Please.” You didn’t know why you were begging, he was giving you everything you needed. He rutted particularly deep at your plead, digging himself deeper into the warmth he so desperately craved. He wanted to be a part of you, to feel you so closely and to pleasure your every cell.

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” He cursed, looking down upon your flustered cheeks and panting lips. You fluttered around him again, making him lose all since of control he had before.

“I don’t know how much more I can take of you, I need it.” His panicked whine was enough for you to fall over the edge, his hips slapping into you at such a frantic pace it had you seeing stars.

He wasn’t going to stop. And you didn’t want him to. You knew what he needed, and you’d give it to him. Willingly and with open arms.

“Then take it.” You whimpered into the night air, watching his pupils blow and his thrusts to go even deeper. His little whine of protest was put to an end as his lips kissed gently upon your pulse point. His looming body caging you from squirming.

He didn’t stop his sloppy thrusting, even when he placed torturous open-mouthed kisses all down the soft flesh of your neck, until his tongue lapped gently against the thrumming pulse of your artery.

It pinched when his sharp fang-like teeth bit into your skin, yet the cooling nature of his tongue and lips pulled you to ecstasy. You clenched around him, having no time to warn him of your rapid orgasm until your legs wrapped around him tighter, your walls clenching his cock so tight his body was soon to follow you.

He was definitely in a nirvana-like state, his lips still suckling gently upon the sweet taste of your blood, his throat bobbing gently as he drank upon your life. His eyes were clenched shut as he rutted impossibly deep, hitting the very cup of your womb as he stilled.

He pulled away from your neck with a tough resolve, wanting more but knowing he couldn’t have it. Instead he focused on his earth-shattering orgasm, how his cock twitched inside you and released ropes of hot seed. He’d never felt so euphoric.

You laid limp under him, eyes flooded in darkness as you lazily looked to the blood slowly trailing down his chin. Your own blood.

Keegan collapsed, not even daring to pull his softening cock out of you quite yet. His weight was comforting, and as your fingers trailed to his chin, you collected the blood there, pushing it gently against his lips until he sucked the nectar off your fingertip with a satisfied hum.

Laying on this old couch in an abandoned cabin wasn’t ideal. And neither was the monster above you.

But you’d love him until your last breath. Even if Keegan happened to cause it.

#whew #news flash I still don’t know how to end smut #I want a vampire to bite me guys #cod #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #keegan russ #Keegan p Russ #keegan russ x reader #vampire AU

[zae5]

Do I make you feel sick?

Aemond x niece reader

Summary: A princess confronts the ghosts of her past.

Word count: 1.7k

Prev<

Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika

She doesn't know what possesses her as she lunges at him, arms flying everywhere, nails clawing at whatever part of him she can hurt. They fall to the ground in a heap, with her screaming and hitting his chest with her fists in quick succession before trying to get to his eye. He flips her over just as she manages to scratch his cheek, hissing as he pins her arms above her head, caging her with the weight of his body.

“Have you had enough?” he huffs impatiently. 

She spits at him aiming for his good eye in response, making him growl and grab her neck in warning. Her eyes widen in fear as she sees him look at her with malice. She struggles to breathe as she realizes it is the first time she's seen the likes of it on his face. His grip relents when he feels her gasping, enough to let her know he's unwilling to kill her. There is a silent warning in his eye, which she accepts with a difficult nod making him relax his hold on her neck letting her breathe at last. She sputters and coughs as he brings his face close to her hammering pulse, biting her neck harshly.

“Why” she whimpers beneath him.

“You know why” he mumbles against the shell of her ear “I was owed a debt”

“At what cost” she spits, angling her face towards his “You've ruined us, destroyed our family”

“He was never mine to begin with”

“But I was,” she croaks as he runs his nose along her cheek.

“You are a liar and a cheat” she breathes against him “Did your hatred not extend to the bastard you laid with”

He chuckles in response pulling her up with him to he sit on his haunches “It seems I've gotten my hands on every last Strong except you”

“What has become of you” she spits in disgust, his moniker lingering at the tip of her tongue.

“Say it, every bit of it is true. I'm just like you”

“I’ve done nothing which wasn't expected of me”

“No, only shed innocent blood for your  mother’s cause”

“I had no part in it” she chokes out  “I didn't wish for him to die”

He gazes at her with mistrust twisting her arms behind her back feeling her riding leathers for a weapon.

“It matters not, little traitor. You made your choice” he hums thoughtfully “Do you know what they said when they murdered Jaehaerys? A son for a son they claimed as they slit his throat” 

She shivers as he pulls her to stand, turning her around to face the trees brandishing the dagger she'd kept hidden beneath her tunic. “Helaena is lost to her grief. They say losing a child does that to a mother, takes away all her sanity. I shall repay yours with justice of my own” he says drumming his fingers across her belly “I know how much you've wanted this, for us to be a family. We'll finally have all that you crave for.”

“You are depraved” she shivers, making him chuckle humorlessly.

“I am what you've made me byka nūmio, you can't escape your fate anymore.”

She twists and thrashes in his grasp as brandishes her blade against her neck, clicking his tongue in response. 

“I despise you,” she whispers. “There is nothing you can do to make me lie with you”

He ignores her as he speaks again “Where is your little dragon, hmm. She seems to have left you all alone.”

She looks around in fright, unable to locate Naerax. The trees around her feel eerily quiet, with no sign of anyone apart from both of them breathing heavily. 

“What have you done to her?”

He chuckles in response. “Fear not she is nearby, uniting with her own. Vhagar shall take good care of her”

“Let me go”

“Didn't you come here to find me” he smirks, nicking her neck watching a column of blood trail down her skin.

“I came here to kill you”

He laughs heartily as he spins her around, sheathing her dagger before effortlessly throwing her over his shoulder “What has your mummer queen's cause come to if they've sent you to accomplish such a task.”

“You don't think I'm capable of it?” she replies, trying to kick him.

“Mayhaps, but I know you far better. Your mother was a fool to test your loyalty”

“I am nothing but” she all but screams.

“Indeed, yet to who begs the question” he smirks, hauling her towards the trees.

“Has all the smoke gotten to your head qyybor. You are a fool to think I'll ever betray my family just as you were to leave King’s landing.” She feels him stiffen as they pass through the canopy, his grip tightening on her. (Uncle)

“I have waited out this war to claim what is owed to me and your tantrums shall be the last thing standing between what I want” he says as she tries to reach the dagger sheathed near his waist.

“I've caught you now byka mittys” he says, pulling her braid to face him, eye glinting in the dark as he smiles at her with glee. “Rest, you'll need it in the days to come” (little fool)

The last thing she sees before she goes limp in his arms are spots of green through the mist shrouding them.

She wakes up to the night sky, clear and starry, as she rubs her eyes. There is a fire kindled before her with a woman turned away from where she now sits awake, staring into it as she grinds something in her hands. 

“Be welcome princess, it's been a while” she says without turning to face her. Her voice rings in her ears, unnaturally shrill as she tries to catch a peek of her face.

“You must be the fire witch”

“I have many names. Most call me Alys”

“Where am I?”

“You are safe, as he would have it”

She glances around trying to find him at her admission, perplexed at the strangeness of her surroundings. They appear to be near a small clearing hidden unnaturally from the rest of the land.

“He shall return soon, you need not worry for him”

“I do not”

Green eyes turn to her, deep and cold as they regard her with mirth. “You are as he spoke of, young and foolish”

She fights the urge to bite back as she responds “You know nothing of me”

Her words evoke the strange woman's laughter, a shrieking sinister sound, rattling her before a few ravens croak near the skyline. 

“Be grateful for his affection, princess” she says mockingly “For that is what is keeping you alive”

“As it has been serving you, I suppose” she says, staring at her swollen womb with distaste.

“Oh yes, but I'm far more useful than a lost girl without her dragon” she snickers. 

“What do you see in the flames? I've heard whispers of your visions.”

“Things that have and will come to pass” she replies cryptically.

“Must be lonely to know he's keeping you with him for your gift” she replies snarkily, noticing her frame stiffen in response. 

“Do not antagonize her too much dōna” she hears as she feels him towering behind her. (Sweet)

She huffs in annoyance as he regards her before walking past her to hand the witch something. She sees her take it before retreating into the forest, leaving them alone again.

“Where is Naerax”

“Asleep, as you were a while ago”

“Why are you keeping me here”

“What do you have to return to? You're far away from home” he bites back. “Or does a certain bastard await your return” he asks, twirling her dagger in his hand.

She stares at him incredulously laughing at his response. “Addam? Nyke daor pāsagon ao” (I cannot believe you) “After all that has happened, that is what bothers you”

“It doesn't matter, he shall not live to see you again”

His response elicits another scream as she tackles him to the ground before being flipped over again with force.

“Does the thought of him dying evoke such despair, perhaps I'll have to kill him sooner”

“You are craven. Will you slay the entire realm in your madness”

“Every traitor shall face his due”

“Perhaps you should start with your lover then”

“And here I thought you wished to spare the innocent”

“She is hardly free from blame”

“The child she carries has no part to play”

“Your babe is as treacherous as his father before him”

“The only traitor I see here is you”

“I have never betrayed you. You are a fool to think so”

“I suppose galavanting about with a Velaryon bastard isn't the treachery that you speak of”

“You base your accusations on rumors? Slanders which are nothing but falsehood” she spits “I stand by what I said, I am nothing but loyal”

He lets her go in bewilderment as she feels her cheeks wet with tears. “None of it is true”

He looks away as she speaks, anger flashing in his eye “You were lost to me”

“I was”

“Then I am not to blame”

“You are and you can never absolve yourself of it. I loved you and you betrayed me.”

“You chose your mother”

“As did you”

“Do you think my decisions haven't tormented me? Do you think you're the only one who's suffered? You made me lose everything” he shouts. “I lost the capital. I lost our advantage while you ran around doing as you pleased.”

“You confuse me with yourself,” she scoffs.

“You've tormented me for years. Do not come here and claim that you love me when all you've ever done is left” he remarks with uncontrolled rage.

“And all you've done is find the first woman you could to warm your bed while I mourned my loss, one that you inflicted” she screams back as he moves towards her grabbing her face in his hands. 

“I despise you” she whispers as he brings his face close to hers shaking with emotion

“As do I,” he whispers back, inching closer to her.

It is only fair, she thinks when he consumes her finally. She feels the salt from her tears coat his lips as they move against hers, velvety and soft as he grips her harshly, pulling her closer in haste. She clings to him as they devour each other and when she lunges at him again, pushing him to the floor of her makeshift bed, he relents easily in his own desperation and unrestrained rage of being pulled apart from what was always meant to be theirs.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond @watercolorskyy

#house of the dragon #aemond x niece!reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond fics #aemond imagine #hotd imagine #zae's fics #hotd fic #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader

[lustfulfuchsia]

Knife

[A/n:I wrote this for a friend, and honestly, I know nothing about Mizu 😅.]

Summary:You shouldn't be so aroused with a katana to your throat

Type:Scenario:Smut:Mizu X Gn!Reader

Version:Blue eye samurai

!⚠️DNI MINORS⚠️!

~

You and Mizu weren't on the nicest terms. Always bickering and arguing with eachother, Mizu doesn't even know why she keeps you around. Today was no different. You were complaining and yelling as Mizu tried to speed off without you.

"God- Shut up will you? I'm trying to think" Mizu grumbles, trying to ignore you.

A huff turned Mizu attention to you, an annoyed look on both of your faces.

"Why? We have nothing to do right now, we're just walking" Mizu rolled her eyes at your words, thinking how dumb you have to be to think that.

After a few more complaints from you, she had enough. Snapping around and drawing a blade, she pinned you to the nearest tree, knife pressed against your throat.

"Shut up" she felt you shiver, watched your throat bob against the blade.

But them there was a blush, your face bright red as you stared at her. Mizu stopped, noticing that you clenched your legs together. She looked shocked, yet disappointed.

"Really? Your getting off to this? Your more Pathetic than I thought" Mizu slowly dragged the knife over your body, nicking some of your skin and clothes.

Your body trembled, trying your best to think of an excuse.

"I-I wouldn't! Not to you," Your breath hitched as her knee brushed against your crotch, she knew what she was doing.

You squirmed, the cold tip of the knife slowly cutting through your clothes. She looked into your eyes, making you shiver at her cold stare.

"I've seen how you look at me, how you react to the smallest touch. Your not slick" her knee pressed harder against your crotch.

You couldn't stop the moan that escaped your mouth, covering your mouth almost instantly. Mizu glared at you, yanking your hand from your mouth.

"No, don't hide it. I your quite loud when you finger yourself in your room." You froze, eyes wide and horrified. "Moaning my name out like I'm not in the room next to you... sometimes I'm tempted to join you, give you a real reason to moan my name"

Your knees felt weak as she pressed her knee harder against your crotch, your pussy started to ache and feel hotter than hell. Mizu grabbed your hip, stabbing the knife into the tree next to your head before helping you grind against her thigh. She watched as your hips rolled against her knee, a hidden smirk crossing her face at your almost pathetic noises. Eventually she moved her knee away, swiftly tugging down your pants she stared for a moment, huffing at the sight of your dripping arousal.

"Really? That aroused from just a few touches." She held her tongue, seeing how desperate you were amused her

Mizu ran two fingers along your folds, slowly dipping them into your aching hole. She watched your face, knowing her fingers where longer and thicker compared to yours. Mizus fingers were thick and calloused from all the years holding a blade, easily bigger than your fingers. Soft whimpers and moans left your mouth, grinding down desperately on her fingers. Her thumb pressed roughly against your clit, rubbing it had enough to make you gasp and squirm. Her free hand reached up and wiped the tears from your face, her eyes dark as she watched you tremble and cry from her touch.

"Does it feel good? It must be, since it's got you crying like a baby. " She gripped your face, pulling you into a rough kiss.

You instantly melted into her kiss, leaning into her desperately. You've been waiting for her lips to be upon yours, eager to feel her lips brush against your skin. And now, now that wish has come true. Mizu knows better than to leave hickeys. You two had important people to meet and talk to. It would be disrespectful to meet them with such inappropriate marks. Maybe another day she'll finally mark you as hers. Your legs started to shake, hips desperately bucking into her hand, your close. If you too weren't so busy she'd deny you for hours, and wouldn't stop until you were crying and shaking under her, begging her to let you cum. Mizu leans against you, pinning you to the tree with her body weight.

"Cum for me, y/n. Come undone on my hand" Those words were all it took.

With a cry you came on her hand, soaking her sleeve cuff and fingers with your cum. Slowly pulling her hand away, she stared at her glistening hand before bringing it up to her mouth. Mizu made eye contact with you as she licked your cum off her hand, eyeing you dangerously.

"Get dressed, we have places to be" Mizu wiped her hand off and pulled her knife out of the tree before helping you put your clothes back on.

~

[A/n:My friend, I hope this reaches your standards 😔. Again, I'm not sure if this is really Mizu, I've never watched the show. I hope you enjoyed]

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu #blue eye samurai #x reader #x male reader #afab reader

[draculasfavoritewife]

Touch Me Please

Summary: Aftereffects can be painful to work through by yourself, and a little help from your partner can be a godsend.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Unwanted touch from a gross man, initial lack of communication, suggestions of a panic attack. Extended sequence of getting handsy in the shower. Possessive! Din.

I will never tire of writing shower scenes ❤️‍🔥. I love the thought of Mando's partner sometimes going undercover to flush out particularly oily bounties. And I really don't know what came over me for this one's ending...I have to blame my senselessness on the utter chokehold this man has on me hehe.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

"I had it handled."

Din gives no response to your annoyed statement, simply lowers himself on one knee to yank his vibroblade from deep in the throat of the male Twi'lek on the floor, whose body has just barely ceased twitching.

You angrily stalk towards him, wrenching your chain along in one hand, your own knife still humming loudly in the other. "Don't you tune me out, Mando," you warn, using his professional alias as much out of displeasure as necessity. "I. Had it. Handled. But no, you just HAD to have things done your way. And now he's dead and we have to make a run for it."

"Warm or cold, makes no difference," he says gruffly, still not looking at you. He's a little too focused on the prone body of the asset, and you briefly wonder what's bothering him.

He doesn't usually act so impulsively when you're undercover.

With an exasperated snort, you shake your head and turn your attention to your modified slave collar, pressing the hidden release so it falls away, leaving you unchained once more. "This was a waste."

"We got what we came for." He rises and hefts the dead man across his wide shoulders with breathtaking ease, indicating the doorway with a sharp jerk of his head. "Let's get out of here before too many of his lackeys come looking for him."

You sheathe your knife and pull his pulse rifle from its holster on his back. He doesn't object.

He can tell you might need to disintegrate a few lowlifes before it's safe to hold a conversation with you again.

Your escape goes smoothly, more so than the actual mission, ironically, and soon the two of you are standing in the ship's hold, watching the carbonite seal over your latest asset. Din is acutely aware of how close you are to him, all his senses on high alert as his religiously conditioned mind struggles to process how you can just STAND THERE so exposed. Your slave dancer disguise is perfect, as far as it can be called a disguise.

As much as the pair of you shares under cover of darkness, he's never really seen so much of your skin before, bared between little more than straps of leather and the drape of filmy netting. He has to remind himself repeatedly that you consider yourself dar'manda.

He wonders too, if you'd done jobs like this before your partnership. Not once did he see anything in your stride that betrayed your discomfort. Images flash through his head unbidden, of the way you moved before your new "master", of how you remained still and silent even as that crime lord TOUCHED you....

Din Djarin is a controlled man. So his admittedly violent and perhaps unnecessary reaction to seeing that filth's hands straying -- too close to areas of you that belong only to him -- has him slightly shaken, though he'd never say so.

Does he regret having buried his blade in that scum's neck for his sins, for trying to take what's his?

No.

He doesn't.

He finally emerges from his brooding at the sound of your voice beside him. "I'm not angry at you, Din." Everything from this mission has finally caught up with you, drowning the adrenaline in exhaustion. "I just wish you trusted me more. I know I don't look dangerous like this --" you gesture down your mostly unclad form, not seeing the Mandalorian's gaze subtly follow, "-- but I can take care of myself. I had to, for a long time. I was in control, not him."

"I know." His voice comes out cold; he's struggling to keep himself from unloading all his confusion and dismay on you at once. "I do trust you, Cyar'ika. I just...."

You wait, but it's like waiting for a stone wall to open up for you.

Nothing gives.

Normally you would gently cajole that stone wall into eventually breaking down, but you just don't have the capacity to do so at the moment.

"I'll be in the 'fresher if you need me," you sigh, turning away. "I need a shower and a change of clothes."

He says nothing, and you don't invite him along.

For the first time in a while, the silence that falls between you two is taut, barely stretched over spiking emotions that are too rampant to reach the air.

The feeling of hot water pounding into your skin clears your head as it always does, letting your patience recharge and your frustrations bleed away down the drain. Sense slowly begins to reclaim your thoughts, and you let your mind drift as you wash away the scent of smoke and spice, your fingertips trailing absently across your body as new questions rise of their own accord.

You can't understand why you feel disappointed.

The job went well. It doesn't matter in the wider scheme of things whether you were the one to acquire the asset or Din, not really. You both get paid the same.

Were you simply hoping for more of a reaction to your dancer outfit from your laconic partner?

Your hand slips in the water, brushes over your ribcage. It's one of your favorite places to find Din's hands lingering when the two of you are half-awake in bed, your skin sensitive enough there that the calluses on his fingertips still raise shivers from you every time.

But to your disgust, this time it isn't his hand you feel on your body, but the memory of a much different hand, one with overlong nails searching for something that isn't meant for it. A hand that's been dead for over an hour now, but the sensation is still there, and not only there, but trailing down your neck, slithering around your waist, loitering a moment too long atop your thigh, and you can't keep back the sound of horror that forces its way up your throat.

You feel disgusting and helpless with the mere idea of those hands crawling your body.

And all you know is you need it gone now.

Desperately.

So as the sensations continue to heighten unpleasantly, you do the only thing you can think of.

"...Din?"

His footsteps are swift, and he's in the 'fresher before you even need to call for him a second time. You can see his hulking dark form outlined through the frosted door panel.

"What's wrong?" He sounds concerned.

"I...." You pause and take a deep breath. "I need you, Din. Please."

He doesn't protest, doesn't question you. The lights go out and you hear the clack of the beskar as he strips and sets it aside. Scant moments later, he's under the water with you, solid and familiar and radiating heat, and you're suddenly so needy for his touch it's all you can do to keep from throwing yourself at him.

"What do you want from me?" he breathes, water dripping from his hair down to your face.

"You." Most times you're a playful flirt, but this time you have no room left for games. You just want him to remind you who you really belong to. There will be time for other things later. "I want to feel your hands on me, Din. I need to get the feeling of that miserable scum off of me. Touch me, please."

He pulls you into him, a tad more roughly than usual. "Where, Cyar'ika?"

You melt into the welcome haven of his chest, your hands immediately finding their way to some of the more distinctive scars that ridge his skin. "Anywhere you want, my Love."

He's ravenous in his compliance, all but devouring you with his touch, lips joining his hands as he focuses first on your throat and shoulders.

It's as if he's as desperate for the contact as you are, and suddenly his strange actions become clear to you, as his hands flawlessly overrun all of the places where the other man had been.

He took note of every single unwelcome caress, each one still burning in his mind's eye, each movement of foreign hands a wrong against you and him that cries out to be righted.

And so he follows that path diligently, his heated touch obliterating any claim that vermin tried to make on his sacred space, reconquering everything you offer him like the Mandalorians of old.

You're surrounded by him, blind in the dark and the steadily falling water, held flush against his body, your senses reduced to purely touch and hearing as he growls broken phrases in Mando'a into your skin.

"I've never seen you so territorial," you huff out in a laugh.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your lips, as his pause in their journey across the landscape of you.

"Why?" you ask the well-loved chamber of his mouth.

"For my actions. I let my jealousy rule me in the moment and I offended you." He lifts you in his arms, your back resting against the 'fresher wall and your arms wrapping around his neck. You settle into the new position with a happy hum, letting your hips kiss his and feeling his hands slide down the backs of your thighs in reply.

"But seeing that son of a Hutt with his hands all over you like that --" his forehead comes to rest against yours. "That did something to me I can't explain."

One of your hands finds its way into his hair as the other gently scratches across his muscular back, making him sigh.

"Thank you, Din."

You can FEEL the curious eyebrow raise.

"For caring so much. For coming to my rescue when I need you -- every time. Next time," you add, mischief creeping back into your tone, "we can reverse the roles, if you'd rather. I can think of a lot of people who'd pay an exorbitant amount for a dancing Mandalorian. Think of that -- you, dressed in that get-up, but with the helmet still on, of course -- that would intrigue any crime lord, all right."

"You sound like you've imagined that more times than you should have," he chides teasingly.

Your only response is a soft laugh, though you do press yourself more insistently against him and give his hair a suggestive tug.

"Hmm. Someone's still not satisfied." He lets you slide from his embrace back to the floor, and you whine with disappointment, though to your relief all echoes of unwanted hands have dissipated.

Now you're just left hungry for more of HIM.

"Hush, Mesh'la, I'm not refusing you." The extra grit in his lowered voice suggests he wants more as well. His thumb brushes across your lips, rough and sensual. "I just think it would be more...pleasant to finish this in my quarters, don't you? Cold water and romance don't always go so well together if the heat runs out."

You nip at his thumb and smirk. "Thinking as always, Djarin."

"About you, at any rate." He falls quiet abruptly as he pulls away, as if abashed that such a flippant admission actually left his lips.

You laugh and duck back under the water. "Go. Get your hair dry and whatever else you need so I don't see your face. I'll get out when I hear you leave."

He starts to open the door, then suddenly thinks twice and is upon you once again, his fingers digging into the softness of your hips and his lips grazing your collarbone.

"You're beautiful," he grates out in a rush. "And I can't stop thinking about you in that costume. I just thought you should know that."

You sigh into his firm hold, a sinful idea taking delightful shape in your mind.

"How about I dance for you then, Din Djarin? Would you like to see that, ner'alor?"

The breath leaves his lungs all at once in a sharp exhale. "Yes, Mesh'la. Dance for me."

When he finally goes, you're left to finish your shower with an overwhelming ache for him and some very tempting plans turning over in your head.

Dar'manda = Not Mandalorian; separated from one's heritage

Ner'alor = My leader/boss

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #female reader #romance #steamy #comfort #suggestive #hes my husband #possessive #bounty hunter #shower scene #I love when he gets flustered he's so cute #obsessed with him

[fayeriess]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ WHEN ANGER

TURNS TO HONEY ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

daemon targaryen x fem!reader

summary: tensions rise between house targaryen and house royce after the death of your sister, lady rhea. the night of princess rhaenyra's wedding feast, accusations come to light, a finger pointing to the brother of the king  — who just so happens to be your lover.

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, loose enemies to lovers trope, scratching kink (??), graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of loss of virtue, daemon being daemon, the usual hotd shenanigans

a/n: yet another installment of 'birth of violence' that has me fanning myself silly. bear with me if there are any mistakes or if you find anything to be incorrect, as i am still slowly easing my way into the fandom. enjoy friends <3

“I am making an accusation.” 

The moment those words were spat out of your cousin's lips with the utmost venom he could muster, you had suddenly wished you were hidden behind the thick walls Runestone provided; mourning the loss of your older sister. 

Gerold Royce should have bit down harshly on his tongue the second his heart burst in flames with overwhelming heat — hatred for the man before him, eyes narrowed with murderous intentions he so desperately wished to act on. 

This occasion was anything but the correct time to address such serious matters, especially under the scrutinous eyes of the King, his heir, and his Hand who had watched with such caution that you had opted to distract yourself by digging your fingernails in the wax-coated skin of an apple you had plucked from the vast array of foods. 

The rhythm of your breathing had grown uneven, breasts squeezing uncomfortable against the upper trim of your dress, pillowed lips pressed in a thin line.

 Daemon Targaryen leaned back in the finely carved wood that made up his seat, nodding in faux understanding at your cousin's bold choice of words. Craning his head slightly to scan his violet eyes across his elder brother and Lord Lyonel Strong, his lips jutted before parting to speak. 

“In King’s Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you.” 

There it was. The infamous insult that sharpened the blade — stabbing it into the already agonized heart of your relative, as well as your own through the sonorous music pouring in the canals of your ears. 

You had known this so-called slander to be true; knowing his profound hatred for the Lady of the Vale had finally been acted upon in the treachery of her brutal murder. It was an unfortunate occurrence you had trampled upon. 

Her skull was bashed to bits, remnants of brain matter scattered about in thick clots of crimson that had decorated the grass and watered the dirt. You had touched with the pads of your fingers, still slightly warm to the touch. Deep within the pits of your stomach, weaved in your intestines, you had known the silver-haired man before you were to take the blame for her untimely demise.

However, you were in no position to come to such a decision, and nor would you ever be. Therefore, Daemon Targaryen would walk away with every limb intact, and you would continue to suppress your fury, forever scarred by the loss.

It was only then that you had sharply stood from your seat, apple long forgotten as it dropped onto the table with a quiet thud, momentarily attracting the curious gazes of those across from you, the others none-the-wiser as they continued to prance about. 

Piercing, violet eyes caught yours for a fraction of a millisecond and if you weren’t as aware as you were now, it was something you were sure to miss. 

Destastation never consumed you so… barbarically.

Gerold stepped forward, chubby fists clenched and shaking with contained wrath. 

Daemon took it as no threat, offering an amused smile as if to mock his feeble attempt at intimidation and defense of his house, his name, and his cousin.

“The truth is, I’m glad you’ve come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance.” 

“What inheritance?”

“Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband whatever she was due now passes to me.”

His words to you became a jumbled nonsensical mess.

Surely he had too much wine to drink before he had strutted through the thick doors of the feast hall, all mighty and proud of his feats and dirty achievements.

Before you could stop your actions, you strutted up the four short steps, forcing position next to Gerold whose jaw had grown taut with anger, teeth grinding against each other, practically shaking in place. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten that Lady Rhea has a sister,” Your sharp words cut through the pause of uncomfortable silence that had settled despite music still echoing in the expanse of space, dimly lit, cozy yet unnerving at the same time. “and truth that no heirs have been brought forth, I have a right to claim. As long as I continue to breathe, you will take nothing.” 

The finality of your statement seemed to have temporarily embedded itself in some part of Daemon that wasn’t as rot-ridden as he was, as he had nodded curtly at you, taking longer than necessary.

His lingering stares had never failed to send a chill down your spine, numbing you at the very core of your existence whenever you’d catch his gaze. He had preferred your presence over your sisters, despite the little time you two had spent together. Though he quickly figured that since you and the eldest bronze bitch had come from the same cunt, you were bound to have the same irritating little quirks — he just found you more tolerable, more sheltered than Rhea.

After all, the eve he had flown on the back of Caraxes back to King’s Landing, he had filled you — had given you something to remember him by. It showed when hues of purples and blues decorated the expanse of your stomach, under your ribcage, everywhere he could reach until you could no longer take everything he had to offer.  

Daemon loved to ruin pretty things. And even though he had stated that the sheep were much prettier than any of the women in the Vale, he had not thought of you. 

Roughly circling your arm around Gerold’s bicep, you tugged him away, and back to your designated seats, pulling him down to sit with as much strength as you could. 

“Do not ever make such accusations in front of other lords and ladies of the realm.” You seethe, feeling him stiffen under your near-suffocating grasp, lips pressed together tightly before he nods. 

“Good. Now eat, you’ve been neglecting your needs.” 

And without a word, Gerold obeys. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

There’s moonlight casting shadows over the gargantuan towers of the Red Keep, basking certain spaces with a luster so gentle, it almost felt as if you were on your homeland, feeling the grass between your bare toes, inhaling as much fresh air as your lungs could home. 

You could not do that here. 

You could not taint your body with such putrid, toxic air as what loomed over in King’s Landing in thick clouds, dusting over the already sinful streets, waiting to discreetly make its way down your throat until it attacked every single cell in your body. Refuge from the disastrous occurrence of tonight's feast was not to be found here. 

That was something you had quickly come to realize when you had picked at your fingernails draped over the ornate decoration of one of the many balcony railings that riddled the large fortress, mind wandering to other things that developed a small bubble of guilt. 

You wouldn’t feed the monster. No. You couldn’t feed it the small handful of ill-at-ease altercations you’ve had with your brother bound by marriage, and the way he looked at you only intensified it to the point where you were sure it was to burst open, spilling your intestines and long-kept secrets. 

“There you are. You know, you’re very hard to find.” 

Clutching at the fabric of your dress, you rubbed it between your thumb and pointer fingers, spine straightening with such haste that it cracked slightly, back still turned to him. 

That voice had haunted you in your dreams once, maybe twice if you could recall correctly despite your enthusiasm to find a way to rid them from the tissue of your brain. It had chosen to gather in the outer fluid of your skull instead, sloshing around the forefront from to time whenever Rhea had mentioned her cunt of a husband. They had not consummated their marriage, as he had no interest in sticking his cock in the likes of your sister, an eagle with wings far too big for her body. 

That was something he despised about her, amongst many other things. Yet, he couldn’t find it in his dull, black heart to take any of it out on you, a vision among many; a person in his dreams he wishes he could call a stranger.

You had robbed him of something, and although Daemon wasn’t quite sure of what exactly it was, he’d figure it out in time.  As he always did, no matter how rash. 

“Should I be honored to be in your presence after you’ve sought me out, then?” 

A brush of wind passes, seeping through the thin material of your clothing, through your skin, and wrapping itself around your bones. 

“I think I should be … lady of the Vale.” 

Turning your head in his direction, you narrow your eyes into slits as he makes his way toward you, hands clasped together firmly behind his back, hair slightly disheveled. 

There’s a lump in your throat that you swallow with difficulty, heaving out a large, dramatic sigh, keeping your eyes locked on the side of his face, the slope of his nose. His brows were furrowed, the lines of age even more visible on the face you’ve only had the pleasure of touching once when he had thrust into you. 

The mere thought of it calls upon the guilt again. So, you resist.

“I am in no mood for jesting, I only wish for a moment of peace. That is all I ask.” As tired as you had sounded, you had felt even more defeated knowing that no matter how much tea you’d ingest when you reached your temporary chambers, it would not be enough to keep your rumination at bay. 

There’s a whistle somewhere nearby, a momentary distraction from how close he’s standing to you, shoulder to shoulder, body heat practically radiating like the fires you’d set deep within thick branches and high grass. 

“You have a sly little tongue on you, don’t you?”

“Only when one claims what is to be mine.” 

“Hm,” He hums, turning his head slightly to stare you directly in the eyes. “So eager to replace that dear sister of yours. Tell me, how did she so tragically pass again?

Daemon was trying to get under your skin. It was a skill he was best suited at, especially in a time of vulnerability such as this, with no one else around to diffuse the fire sparking between the both of you as your chest expanded so wide, that your lungs burned, 

Grinding your teeth together, you could taste nothing but wine on your tongue as you pressed it against the roof of your mouth.

“A snapped neck and a crushed skull.” He tutts, “Such a shame.”

“Do not speak of my sister in ill manners when she has no way to defend her honor.” You spat, hand shaking at your sides, nails digging into your clammy palms – leaving crescent indents in their wake. 

“Is that not why she has a sister to take her place when it suits her, to fuck her husband without remorse.” The smirk that appears at the corner of his lips has your chin wobbling in anger, a hand outstretched to clasp at the lining of his blood-red sleeve; the same blood-red that painted your sister's head when it laid cracked open on blades of grass. 

“Laying with you was an insult to my virtue.” 

Slowly, as if you were to strike him at any moment, Daemon raised a hand, gently pressing it against the pillowed flesh of your bottom lip, wet with saliva and ready for him to devour all over again; the taste of citrus coating his taste-buds. 

“I rather enjoyed our time together.” He admits with amusement as if the agony written on your face was purely a source of entertainment. 

With unshed tears burning behind your irises, you blink, wrinkling your nose in mild disgust at the man in front of you. “Fuck you.” 

And with that, he presses his lips against yours, teeth clashing against teeth as the heat of his mouth overpowers your will to resist. You’re putty in his arms and he knows it by the way his free hand grips your hipbone, gripping as if you keep you in place. 

It’s messy, yet delectable all the same as his tongue mingles with yours, hot and needy as they dance, heads growing hazy from lack of breathing. A quiet moan escapes you when Daemon tugs your bottom lip between his teeth as if he were starving, pulling you as close to his chest as he can manage.

You’d burn for this, surely; for fitting in the arms of your sister's husband as if you’d belong there — for feeling some sort of desire — lust all for the man who had taken her from you. It had become all too real to you when he had brought you into his chambers and unclothed you slowly as if you were a sight to behold, drinking you in like the most expensive wine he’d ever sought out in all of the Seven Kingdoms. 

It had all become too real when his hands had greedily palmed at your breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth with such enthusiasm, that you were positive this was an entirely different man from the one you had come to know. His cheeks were hollow as he sucked, nipped, and swirled his tongue around your hard bud, an arch in your back only encouraging his movements.

The organ in your chest was beating erratically, practically pounding on your ribs, hoping to crack them one by one and leave you a shell of yourself before you were to return home. 

Just for tonight. 

You’d feel his touch one last time before you’d beg for forgiveness for the rest of your life. 

When Daemon removes his mouth from your chest, he finds himself sucking the skin at the base of your neck, paying attention to a particular spot you had reacted to, bruising all he could to claim you just like he told you he would the first, and only night he bedded you.

The sensation of the bare skin of your legs wrapped around his waist sends him into a frenzy as he inhales sharply, slapping his hands at the meat of your thighs before trailing one between your legs to palm at his hard cock, dripping with pre-cum and ready to bury you to the hilt.

“One last time.”  You whisper, letting it mix in the heavy air, watching the way his brows furrow before the only emotion in his dark eyes dissipates. 

He wastes no time, gathering your arousal on his tip before he’s sheathing himself into you, groaning lowly in the crook of your neck as your walls shape around him. Your insides are on fire with the way he’s stretching you, left hand gripping at the sheets near your head.

“I’ll never grow tired of this.” He says it as if he’d have you for the rest of his life, a soft lilt to words that you’d find praising if they weren’t coming from him, a Targaryen — a dragon conqueror.

Biting down on the soft flesh of your lower lip, you stared at his features, clouded with a certain haze of carnal desire. The feeling of your heart beating quickly against the bones of your ribcage subsided when a flow of arousal made itself known at the burning intimacy of the action, causing you to clench around his cock buried within you, your nails dancing down the nape of his neck to the expanse of his back.

A groan left his throat when that not-so-innocent sound he relished reached his ears, and it was hard not to pound you into the satin sheets right then and there. Instead, he pressed his bare chest against yours, skin hot and flushed, his wet lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

As the muscles in his back flexed, the light sting of where your sharp nails had once been clawing desperately reminded him just how much he loved the feeling of your nails breaking the skin there the first time. The sadistic action secretly becomes one of his favorites as you do it now. It was physical proof that he could please you in a way no one else could touch you in all the right places, and watch your pretty eyes roll into the back of your head. 

Every single reaction you had to even the slightest touch  — was all because of him. He’d want his touch to be all you’d ever know. 

“So good, sweetling,” He drawled lowly. A quiet but adequate praise before he removed one of his hands from your side, producing a sharp hiss from you as his palm slapped against the outside of the fat of your left thigh once more.

You whined, the pulse between your legs aching with arousal, your slick pooling at the base of his cock when he’d fully unsheathe himself only to ram, back into you again. “Such a tight little cunt, huh?”

Wrapping your legs around his unclothed torso as much as you could manage, you crossed your ankles, pushing him in until he touched a spot so deep within you that you choked on your breath, the air seemingly knocked out of your lungs by his harsh movements as he continued to stretch you.

With closed eyes, you let your eyebrows furrow in concentration at the euphoric feeling he brought to you, a relentless pace that sent your toes to curl involuntarily. 

The air was hot and the sheen of sweet blooming between the both of you did little to quell the intense heat. Skin slapping against skin and your lewd moans echoing off the thin walls and right back into your ears was all that could be heard aside from his panting.

It was only when his hand had slipped near your neck to cup your jaw, that you had let out a sob so pathetic that he had chuckled right into your skin, tears distorting your once clear vision of him as he continued to pump himself in and out of out.

 “Look at you.” He cooed, “So pretty with those tears in your eyes.” 

Your fingers had flexed uncomfortably near the top of his spine, nails scratching against the expanse, and moving toward his scalp, twirling wisps of loose silver hair around your finger as the frame squeaked beneath your bodies. 

His guttural groan vibrated throughout your chest, rattling your body.  The burning sting that seeped through the minor, raw wounds encouraged him to hold your hips down, ramming so deep into you, that you had started to writhe beneath him.

Daemon could tell you were close. 

How could you not be with the way he was abusing your cunt; rocking you through your orgasm.

The slow, deep breaths he took to steady his breathing helped you focus on calming your own as he rubbed the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, thrusting one, two, three more times before emptying himself in you, painting your walls with his seed, filling you to the brim before swiftly pulling out of you.

Your gaze never left his fit, naked figure as he ran a hand through his hair, shuffling toward the end of the bed, back hunched and toward you as the silence and realization of what you had done ate at you. 

Never again. That was a promise you intended to keep. 

Never again.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen angst #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd #daemon targaryen

[confusion-star]

Dan heng x reader

Lingering moment

Today fated at last. .. Across the Aeons and the stars.. You finally died.

The moment of your death was no news towards others.. Especially not to dan Heng.. Dan Heng... Your friend, your lover.. Your home...

Home... "Home will always be whenever we are together" is what you would say.. But you were gone.. No longer around to see him, to see them..

"Dan Heng." Himeko held his shoulder, he didn't say a word. Himeko nodded and left him be. The funeral was held during a special day, your anniversary. Dan Heng held onto your favourite flowers, grown and fresh just by him. Even the stellaron hunters came by to see your death.

Despite blade's longing for it.. He knew you were a great companion to all of them. Despite all of their wrongdoings you never hated them and helped them in a way. Sneak out sessions with silver wolf, shopping with Kafka, and even death talks with blade.. It was a shame you had left them.

Dan Heng had forgotten when your death had started. One moment he was in your arms, the next you were in his. You were just a grasp away and he failed.. He failed. Failed. Failed...

The first month was hard, he didn't eat until he was forced to, became even more silent, locked himself in your room, and wouldn't stop giving you simple notes.

The second month was a bit better, he came out a little more, ate regularly, talked a bit more and went into your room less. But even so, everyone could see the hollow in his eyes.

A knock was on the door when he was looking into your room "who is it?" He said with hidden annoyance "dan Heng, I found a letter for you" himeko said while sliding in some mail under the door for him. He picked it up.

---

From : [name]

To : Dan heng

---

Dan Heng slowly opened it, afraid it might break like a gentle glass. He squeezed the paper as he read through the words

----

Dear dan Heng.

You might have noticed that by the time you've received this letter. I may have already died. A pity, I had wished a long life with you.. I know how you'd react to this "[name], stop playing around" and so on and so forth. I loved every moment with you. The way you would cup my cheeks, the way you would slowly kiss me through the maple trees.. Oh how I've missed you.. But you've missed me more..

Remember the day where you first board the express? It was a delightful day.. The day you found a home.. Home.. Home will always be wherever you and I are together.. But I cannot be your home forever dan Heng..

You love me right? Then grant me my last wish. Live on a life without me dan Heng.. Don't hold back the things you want to do just because you miss me.. Because I would be heartbroken to see you like that...

XOXO hellebore.

----

"Dan Heng! What are you reading?" March exclaims as she tries to grab the paper "It's nothing of concern, March." Dan Heng puts the paper back in the envelope leaving March and the trailblazer dumbfounded. Right.. Your death was only a year ago

"Well... Whatever. Dan heng, Mr. Yang sent us to tell you we found a new recruit" the trailblazer says as they played their game. Dan Heng nodded, and kept putting his other files away. "We'll send the new recruit here, so you'll be able to have a little chat" March says as they both ran out of the room

Dan Heng scrolls back to the memory file you both had created for yourselves, one where he first was on the express, the first date, the second date, first month anniversary, your birthday, and "and you've kept your promise.."

Dan Heng turned around to see.. You.. "I'm back..." You smile.

-------

Hellebore flowers usually grow next to maple trees. And it is symbolized to be a meaning of peace, serenity and tranquility.

#dan heng angst #honkai star rail #hsr dan heng #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng #gender neutral reader #gn reader #hsr #hsr men #x reader

[letters-unsending]

No. 45

////

Hero meets Villain in a dream.

////

“How’d you get in here?”

“Through the door?” Hero gestured behind him and then paused. A corridor stretched out past his fingers, meandering into darkness.

“You’re in my mind.” Villain waved down at Hero’s feet. “Treading your dirty footprints all over my thoughts.”

“In your mind? Certainly not.” Hero looked around. The hall had widened into a room with slate-gray walls and oval windows that seemed to slip downward every time he blinked. One window was on the floor. The glass encased a squirming, oily blackness.

“You need to get out.” As Villain stomped over the floor-window, the tiles shuddered, spilling into mounds of white sand. The roof yawned open to a soft, purple twilight. “I was trying to spell you out of my head and I’ve made a mess of everything. You’re sleeping right now, aren’t you? Your soul has a habit of wandering.”

“I do remember going to bed before this.” Hero glanced down. His feet were bare and the wind slipped past his ankles and the wide hem of his pajama pants. Frantically, he reached for his face. Chilled metal met his fingers—his mask was still on.

“Your soul will hide what wants to be hidden. You don’t have to worry about that.” Villain groaned and stomped again, but the scene remained the same. The white sand dissolved into a silvery sea. Though a breezed curled across the beach, the water was still, an infinite mirror reflecting the bruise-blue horizon, and Hero considered it, wondering what would happen if he disturbed its surface. “You’ll go once you wake up anyways.”

“I’ve been here before, haven’t I?” He stepped forward. The sand was too soft and whispered against his heel like silk.

“You shouldn’t remember that.” Villain whirled around.

“I don’t,” Hero murmured, walking toward the water, “it’s just a feeling, you know.”

Villain sighed and followed him. Together, they marched, but the sea never grew closer. “You tried this the last time as well,” Villain explained, “and you never make it far.”

“So, I’ve been in your mind before.” Hero turned, following the shoreline instead. Waves crashed and gulls called faintly, though nothing moved, and the sky was bare. “Why haven’t you attacked me? I’m sure you can expel me from your mind. You feel powerful.”

“The soul will not do what it does not wish to.”

“You want me here?”

“The company is nice. I haven’t seen anybody in a while.” The sand grew sharp underfoot, furling into blades of grass, and pines sprouted up between thick, gauzes of mist. Fog hung on the air and perspired over Hero’s skin.

“You being here, it shouldn’t be possible.” Villain gestured toward the haze and the barest silhouettes of mountains beyond. “Of course, there is always the chance that you could be a figment of my mind, but I have little skill with conjuring sentient things. I can only hope that it’s you and that I’m not alone.”

“You’re trapped.”

“Astute observation.” Rain fell softly as Villain stopped, canting his head toward the sky. “It usually takes you far longer to realize that.”

“How many times have I been here?” Hero stared past Villain, at the pines, whose limbs ruffled like great, dark feathers. From their gnarled roots, the trees twisted upwards. Their crowns pierced the fog.

“You forget.” Villain held his face with his hands. The trees braided, expanded, and domed over where they stood, till everything was emerald and reeked of mulched earth and spruce. “It doesn’t matter. Everything I tell you, you always forget, but you always come back. You never remember me and I’m tired of meeting you, for the first time, every time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You wouldn’t be, if you remembered me.” The green turned black, into roiling nothingness. “We knew each other in the waking world, but it seems you’ve forgotten me there as well.”

Hero strode through the abyss and wrenched Villain’s hands from his face. He had a nose, cheeks, lips, jaw; he had everything that should compose a face and yet Hero couldn’t arrange it, couldn’t piece it together. His eyes were the only thing that didn’t swim and when Hero looked into them, he tumbled forward, onto the cold tile of the grey room.

He staggered to his feet. The windows were gone, but a door replaced them. It was simple, white, and had a shining brass handle, but Hero never reached for it.

Turning back, he called out a name.

“[Villain]?”

#writeblr #villain #writing prompt #hero #prompt #villain prompt #writing #hero prompt #hero x villain #drabble #im sorry if this is too trippy #and hard to keep track of

[french-unknown]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: luffy, zoro, nami, usopp, sanji, robin 𝐂/𝐖: fluff 𝐖/𝐂: 1.6k +

| m a s t e r l i s t | - | p t . 2 | - | p t . 3 |

Luffy lay down with you as you gazed at the stars from the Thousand Sunny. You weren't on call tonight but the frustration you felt prevented you from falling asleep so, annoyed, you had to give up the idea. The problem was that Sanji had made cannelés for everyone the day before and, not being hungry, you had hidden your in order to eat it later. Unfortunately, when you went back earlier, your dessert had disappeared and you didn't want to disturb Sanji who had already finished cleaning the dishes for the day.

You sighed as Luffy talked next to you, creating wacky stories about the clouds passing in the night sky above you. Needing solitude, you got up to leave, not without taking advantage of his inattention to search his pockets as discreetly as possible. If there was anyone on this ship who might have food on them, it was him. But the boy had nothing but crumbs so you left wishing him good night.

Arriving further, however, you saw that some crumbs had remained stuck under your fingers then, when you tried to remove them, you noticed that they had remained because of their sticky layer. Intrigued, you realized that, in addition to the food residues being sticky, they were still fresh since they were still soft and they smelled slightly of rum and vanilla. You hesitated a little in disgust but ended up placing one of the crumbs on your tongue. It was a cannelés leftovers. In Luffy's pocket.

"You ate my dessert, jerk!"

Since this morning, Zoro has been blackmailing you into washing the dishes instead of him. You weren't very happy to see a photo of you, drunk with a tomato-red face, dancing furiously with movements so random that they looked like you were defending yourself against an attack of invisible seagulls. Having lost track of that evidence after he put it in his pocket, you were determined to get it back.

When you separated in town, you decided to leave with Zoro. Saying he was wary at first would be an understatement, but he eventually relaxed even though he kept a safe distance between you two. You had tried everything to get closer: to accelerate towards him, to pass in crowds, to try to jostle him "accidentally" or to attempt a fall towards him. However, nothing helped, he always remained a few steps away from you. Growing more and more frustrated with your failure, you let yourself be left behind without a struggle as you thought of other ways to bring it within reach.

Luckily for you, you saw him stop as you passed a sword shop. Totally hypnotized by one of the exposed blades, you seized your chance and thrust your hand into its pockets in search of the coveted object. Luck may not have been so on your side, though, because you found absolutely nothing. You had to remove your hands so he wouldn't notice the intrusion, still totally shocked to find nothing.

"You expect it to be easy?" you heard him ask sardonically as he continued on his way.

As you were about to go to the bar with some of the Straw Hat Pirates, you were brutally arrested when Nami refused to give you your share of the pocket money. In front of your incredulous face, she invoked the money she had to spend to repair the material damage you had caused during a fight on the previous island. Unless you pay her the interest on a so-called "at-risk" loan amounting to 300% of course.

Shocked at having been scammed, you jumped out of the ship anyway to join the others on the road. Just because you couldn't afford a drink yourself doesn't mean you weren't going to drink! However, on the way, you saw a berry note protruding from the back pocket of Nami who was walking in front of you while talking with Usopp. So you approached the duo innocently then, when you were close enough, you reached for the note. Sadly, your hand came into contact with something firm, warm and tight that stopped your hand before it could reach the paper of the ticket. You looked down, curious, and felt a bead of sweat slide down your spine as you realized that the firm, warm thing in question was actually Nami's hand holding you in a death grip. You had just enough time to raise your eyes to see her murderous smile pointed directly at you.

"Did you really think you were going to get me?" She asked too sweetly, unsheathing her Clima-Tact. "I think you need to be reframed."

It was no secret on the boat that, before joining the crew, you made money by scamming and robbing people who came to Rain Dinners, Crocodile's casino in Alabasta. Your pickpocketing tendencies were therefore well known to the crew.

However, while you were chased by Luffy on the boat because you were holding a piece of meat, you tripped over Usopp at the bend of a hallway. Neither of you saw the other coming so he remained frozen while you found yourself on all fours on top of him. For your part, old habits die hard and, with a gesture more instinctive than conscious, you slipped your hand into his pocket to remove trifles that you had recovered. It was Luffy's cry coming closer that pulled you out of your torpor and pushed you to get up and run with your loot. But a few meters away, you felt that your thieving hand began to heat up and sting without really worrying you at the time. It wasn't until you got to the other end of the ship and your hand began to seriously burn you that you wondered what was going on when, at the same time, the captain snatched the meat from your hands before running away happily to eat his treasure safely.

For your part, you collapsed on your knees, your aching hand folded against your chest as you winced in pain. In your fall, you saw what you had stolen from Usopp fall from your pocket to land in front of your eyes. There were two small balls of an alarming red accompanied by a small note written by the hand of the sniper: "For the thieves who cannot keep their hands to themselves".

He was hesitating between two kinds of melons at the market so, with a different fruit in each hand and totally lost in thought, he continued to weigh them before making a choice. Suddenly, he jumped when he heard your laughter behind him.

"Not that I'm complaining about the pleasure of your company but how long have you been around?" he asked, surprised. "A little moment." You answered.

Having finished shopping, you returned to the boat where Sanji immediately began to store the groceries. As he listened to you talk, he felt the urge to smoke. He jammed one of his cigarettes between his lips as he retrieved his lighter from his pocket. He was then surprised when he did not find it. Without cutting you into your story, he began to look in all the pockets of his suit: those at the front and back of his pants, those of his jacket and even inside it but there was nothing there. He was however convinced to have it on him before going to the market.

All of a sudden, you offered your help. Though surprised at the offer, he was still relieved as he followed your directions and leaned towards you with his cigarette still between his lips. Your face, now less than centimeters from his, seemed almost irresistible to him as his eyes lowered inexorably to your mouth. Warmth crept close to his face and, as he inhaled, he felt the smoke rush into his lungs. Silently, he looked down further and saw your hand below his face holding a lit lighter. A lighter so familiar that it took him two seconds to recognize it; it was his.

The meal with the Straw Hat Pirates was always something. It was noisy, messy and sometimes stressful but it was still a moment of happiness and sharing among your crewmates. Despite that, your only concern at the moment was how you were going to manage to steal Robin.

You had never picked the pockets of the archaeologist so, out of pure competition, you had it in your head to steal her at least once and, unfortunately for you, her only pocket was on her chest. Impossible to steal her like that. Yet, no matter how hard you tried to find solutions on how to position yourself, how to divert her attention and put her in confidence or even what opening to use, you couldn't. The target was much too close to eye level and the fabric too close to the body for her not to notice.

A sudden and unusual silence pulled you out of your thoughts. You then realized that everyone around the table had shut up and looked at you without saying a word. Robin on her side, sitting right in front of you, had partly covered her neckline with one of her hands, embarrassed.

"If you keep staring like that, you'll soon have to paid." Nami spoke from across the table.

Instantly, a blush bloomed on your cheeks as you tried to defend yourself by stammering pitifully. Whatever you say about the rest of the meal, everyone looks at you suspiciously and you end up keeping your head stubbornly turned towards your plate.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @idsmash717

#one piece #one piece x reader #imagine #luffy #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #nami #nami x reader #usopp #usopp x reader #sanji #sanji x reader #nico robin #nico robin x reader

[thesharktanksdriver]

Blood's Thicker Than Water (Platonic)

Made this cause I love assassins creed and I hate how they left the plot point about Desmond having a kid from a one night stand. Like sure there’s a comic for Elijah but let’s be real, who here has read that comic?

Sorry if any of them seem out of character, I haven’t played the games in a long while lol

Also thanks to my friend for streaming the games so I can get back into them lol

You never really met your dad but from what your mother described him as he was….a troubled soul

Now to be fair you’ve never exactly met Desmond Miles yourself but from the stories she told it’s obvious he had his fair share of demons

Some of which seemed to spill from the cracks of his soul from the short time she spent with him

A bartender is what he was, until he suddenly up and vanished from said bar in 2012 and died not too long after

It didn’t really make sense then even to your young mind

The gap between his sudden disappearance and death leaving too much unsaid for your mind not to be annoyed by

But as a child you eventually put the thought away

Eventually you forget

Instead going on to pursue your next whim as you focus on the present, or in your case Learning about the past in the present time

Unlike your fascination with your father that went away, your love of history never faded with time

It just seemed to grow the older you got

Your not sure why but something about history just clicked with you

It was somewhere within the range of middle school and reading national geographic that you had realized you liked it

That despite how some areas of it were bleak and disturbing it was interesting

And it got even more so interesting as you delved deeper into the depths of libraries

Nose buried in books lined with dust and old parchment

Yellowed pages and old ink that you carefully decode from centuries of lost meaning and metaphors lost to the modern age

You studied from the ancients all the way up to Victorian

Easing your way though literal centuries of historical records as you soaked up information like a sponge

And it’s there you vegans seeing an odd…repetition of events that seemed to occur

Odd assassinations plagued each era you looked into, all of which connected somehow by people in odd dress

In some journals that had luckily stood the tests of time you uncovered more eye witness accounts

A solider’s log back in the revolutionary war talking about an odd man meeting with his superiors in the dead of night

The diary of a log master who wrote of an odd frequent visitor that had an odd blade hidden beneath his sleeve

The drawing of a Victorian child being freed from a factory that had a hooded lady and man on the rooftop

I’m one you found a symbol, one created from the bottom perspective of an eagle skull, something also commonly associated with these hooded figures

What’s odd as well is that with these hooded assassins you also find traces of another group

One well know to historians such as yourself

Oddly enough the symbol of the Templar knights keep showing up even after their annulment

It’s odd, but what’s more odd enough is that both seemed to be tied to other historical artifacts

Ones well kept in archives and from the public eye

Ones you shouldn’t technically know about if not for you sneaking into sections your don’t have the status to enter

Their always gold with odd symbols. Somehow always pristine and polished despite the fact their dated to be from before ancient times

They for some reason seem to call to you specifically

Tempting you with forbidden knowledge you wish to taste like Eve

But for now you choose to wait until you can do proper analysis on them without the risk of punishment

So you lie and wait

Admittedly you didn’t think anyone expected for you to be this good at your job

In their defence you were a university student here on Co-op and not an actual full time historian

Hell you were in first year for gods sake

But somehow despite it all

Despite the fact you had actual historians and people in the history program years above you here you quickly began to become an outlier

A shinning beacon within the large archive, so much so that you began being allowed in the restricted sections you already snuck into

Mind you, now properly allowed there with some supervision of sorts gave you much more flexibility in research

You got to touch these artifacts

Hold them in gloved palms as silk covered finger glide across its edges and ridges

You study them extensively decrypting and decoding the ancient texts and hieroglyphs

Jotting down what you found in both a report and your own personal journal

Your not sure why you do so but you chock it up to making sure no one takes credit for your work

And this continues to the point your eventually allowed alone with them

It’s great

You dedicate yourself to this task as you learn more and more

Soaking up knowledge like a sponge as you find out more of what was previously lost

Find new angles and perspectives on events

For history isn’t just a set time and date, it’s interpretation based on what we know from sources

And even then sources can be biased

Sources can lie and silence another person’s view on the event

Your more than happy to try make your own interpretations

Admittedly when you were asked to study what looked to be a necklace from these unidentified ancient artifacts you were ecstatic

How could you not be?

Intricate gold woven in something akin to Grecian jewelry

Yet also had hints of something akin to Egyptian

It also…glows? Or at least you swear you’ve seen it glow gold and pulsate a few times but that could be the sleep deprivation speaking

Either way it’s an honour

One you don’t take lightly as you study it

Spending countless restless nights and days trying to crack its code

An unknown source has been funding the archive and your research quite a bit

Betting big money on it much to your surprise and suspension

You get that this is potentially something big but it feels out of left field

Especially since no one knows the name of the company

It’s just under an anonymous donation every month

It’s sketchy

But you aren’t one to argue about free money to further your and your colleagues pursuit of knowledge

Not when this beautiful place used to be underfunded

Not when most historical records were donated by people with a good conscious

Not when this place was almost shut down

With a sigh you continue on your work

Diligently tact checking and writing up a storm

Your writing looks like chicken scratch but that was a commonality between all history majors

Well, along with being giant nerds

And it’s there at that desk at 3 am in the morning, tired and only running on 3 hours of rest you find something peculiar on the necklace

A sharp jaded edge that you absentmindedly prick yourself on by accident

With a groan you wipe the blood away on your pants

Then going up to get a bandaid

You swore to god if you died of tetanus you’d be positively pissed

Unknown to you the necklace starts to glow

When you get home your more exhausted than usual

Your limbs feel like their kade of concrete and your head is stuffed with tissue

Eyelids trying to glue themselves shut

You practically kick off your shoes before tumbling to the couch

Not bothering in changing clothes or showering for the sweet relief of sleeps embrace

So you flop down face first into the old leather cushions of your couch

Only putting in the effort of fishing a hand to grab a throw pillow and blanket from nearby that you burrowed yourself into

A comfy cocoon/prison you couldn’t will yourself to leave even as you swore for a moment you heard something in the house

But your mind writes it off

Your too tired to question anything let alone get up

All you want is sleep

And that’s exactly what you get as your eyelids shut

You fall into the realm of dreams, odd ones playing out in your mind

Blurred images of odd men

A weird void-like realm

The cries of an eagle overhead

A single word appearing in your head

Kenway

And then your eyes snap awake when the sound of arguing fills your ears

Yelling of several male voices jumbling up your already fogged up sense as you practically fall off the couch in a mixture of fear and confusion

Curses escaping your mouth when suddenly the voices go silent and your left in a realm of fear

Hair standing on end as the creaking of the house makes you more alert

Despite the fact you’d never fought a day in your life you will up the courage to grab a baseball bat and cautious cross to where you heard the commotion

Careful steps on the non-creaky boards of the home that you’d luckily memorized

And there you find several men in old garb

Accents of Red tying them together like a string of fate

Or a trail of blood fainting their very existence

they turn to you with sharp eyes

It’s the one in modern clothes that surprises you the most

The face of your supposed dead father staring back at you

Ocher brown eyes that had long lost their life now rejuvenated as they seem to find familiarity in your own features

Some of which mirror his own along with some of the others in the room

The bridge of your nose

A all powerful spark in your eyes as they flick between everyone and escape routes

The way your lip slightly twitches when you try to keep a brave face

Your posture as you decided what to do

It’s all too familiar to him and them in a way that isn’t just coincidence

Especially not when all of them are Kenway

Not when he had been able to prove to them that fact through the experience of virtually living through their lives up until his death

“I’m not sure who the fuck all of you are but get out of my house.” Your fingers twitch and flex as your palms grow sweaty, the wood absorbing the pressure and moisture “especially my dead dad look-alike”

You all but confirm his suspicions

Their suspicions

And it looks Ike for you tonight will be much longer than you anticipated

Turns out that artifact you were studying wasn’t just as normal one

Neither were the other ones you looked at

The way they explained it as was their “artifacts from dead gods”, a fallen civilization that engineered humanity into being their slaves

It’s a lot to take in

Even more so when your suspicions of something bigger happening throughout global history with those odd deaths were real

Oh, and these were you dead ancestors and dad somehow back from the grave and now in your home

…..yeah safe to say that’s a lot to take in after an already very long and tiring shift

You sit there as they explain this, half asleep, and half exasperated

Cause how the hell are you supposed to believe all this bullshit that for some reason feels correct

Something in you tells you that their right yet your mind is fighting that logic

You’d always been a logical person, when it came to most situations you used your brain instead of your heart

And in those cases things ended up fine

But now your faced with this

A situation where your heart is screaming for you to listen as your brain tries to take this all in

Cause logic is completely out the window at the moment

For now you have to trust them even if your still afraid

I mean, how couldn’t you be?

But you get the sense that they understand

At least a little bit by how their also thrusted into a new environment without much say

Perhaps that (along with your own apprehension) is helping comfort them as well

So for now they’ll stay

Your just thanking (the dead) gods that grandma and grandpa’s old home is big enough for all of them

Altaïr Ibn-La’ Ahad

The oldest down the line of your dad’s side of your lineage finds himself often reading through your books in your study

It was a bit of a surprise one day entering it to find him sitting in a spare chair but you don’t mind the silent company

Especially as he seems to find interest in your studies

Occasionally he breaks the silence and asks you a question about the subject he’s reading about

He’s by far the oldest (even if he’s back in the body of his prime) of them therefore he’s the one who has the most figuratively to catch up on

So you indulge him

And also asks questions as well that he seems eager in answering

Knowledge connects you both, scholarly intellect being the bridge between the two of you despite centuries of time apart

Typically he asks about thinks such as modern life and what is know about his home, what happened to it? What it’s known of his era

You answer as best you can

Especially since that era of time isn’t exactly your forte

But he appreciates it anyways

Appreciates that you try, appreciates that you passionately care about history in the first place

Admittedly your mom was supportive but never understood your love of history

She’d listen to your rants and long conversations with a polite smile but you knew she never understood what you were talking about

But he does

He does and contributes whole heartedly in just as much passion

It’s nice

What’s also nice is that he’s studied the artifacts you now study as well

So now your both constantly coming up and developing ideas together

A constant back and forth

Hypotheses, discussion, and testing

Delving deeper into discovery like you’ve wanted

But with this he also helps you see where passion and obsession mix together

After the loss of his wife and son he delved into studying as a form of escape

It drove who was left away

Made the pit in his heart deeper

He doesn’t talk about it often but he seems to see how you may go down the same path

And he warns you of it

Unlike his younger self (that he now appears as) he’s wise if a little rough around the edges

He encourages knowledge but not to the point where it’s an all encompassing and toxic obsession

Within the household he seems to take a somewhat neutral but quiet role

He helps out and offers advice and guidance

Much like a teacher and grandfather of sorts

Speaking up when he has to and making sure the house doesn’t end up in disrepair

He seems to have a fascination with modern appliances, or at least holds a thankfulness for them

Like a few others he sticks to his robes most the time but you’ve seen him sport more modern clothes once awhile

Stuff still somewhat reminiscent of what he wore before but with a modern flare. Things with hoods and draping. Silks and wool. Something with an accent of red mixed in

Sometimes when you fall asleep in your studies you find a blanket draped over you and a cup of tea at your side

He won’t admit it’s him but he’s the only one who knows your tea preferences

He keeps his worry for you deep down but it’s somewhat relived when seeing that you take his warning of not taking the pursuit of knowledge too far

“It says here there was something called the “French revolution”. Would you care to explain what happened here to me?” He asks making you pause your work for a moment, when he sees your smile he knows your answer. Sure he read some of this book and got the gist of it, but something about seeing your eyes light up at his inquiry makes him feel at peace for a moment.

“Would I ever!”

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

This man is quite literally all up in your (and everyone’s) business

Not in an annoy way per say but he’s definitely curious about the lives his descendants have led (both good and bad)

Ezio is very clearly a family man and it’s somewhat ironic to see since half of this household has some sort of familiar issue

Most of which is some sort of daddy issue stemming from either Haythem or Edward that trickled down the line to you

Something that Ezio is seemingly trying to wrap his head around

Out of the others he’s the one who opens up the most

Partially because you think he misses his immediate family and friends

It must be a lot to handle being away from home, now in a foreign land where everything has changed

Despite that though he keeps a brave face

Almost always flashing a smile as he drags you from your study to have some “bonding time”

You won’t admit it to his face but you don’t mind

Especially as he gives your poor hunched over back a break

And treats your pallet to some good old fashioned (literally) Italian food and not cup ramen once again

He tried it once and threw your supply out, saying he’d be supplementing you with food from now on

You can’t exactly say your disappointment or upset from the heaven that is fresh baked garlic bread and pasta

He cooks not only for you but for the others of the house as well, saying his sister taught him lest he piss off his future lady

Taking in their suggestions and cooking foods from their homes as a way of him offering comfort

Whilst he does these tasks he often hums in his mother tongue of Latin

You don’t have the heart to tell him it’s a dead language

Especially when he seems so happy that you can somewhat understand it

He’s happily rambling and teaching you words

Helping you sound out phrases and pronunciation correctly unlike your Latin professor

Some of his songs he lightly sings under his breath get stuck in your head since he has a good singing voice

But despite the facade you see the cracks

Sometimes you find him looking at modern objects mumbling about how Leonardo would have loved to see this or made something similar

Or how Claudia would’ve liked this book

How Petruccio would have loved this toy

It….leaves a bitter taste in your mouth

Once upon a time you felt this same type of longing for family

Once a time you thought of you dad before going to bed and staring at his old Polaroid with hope

One that would never come to fruition (until now)

It’s why you indulge him, to keep his mind off the deeper plunge of melancholy

Compared to the others he’s relatively open to modernizing

In fact he seems somewhat excited in these things

Raiding your wardrobe like a damn fashionista and critiquing what’s good quality

He also has a wide variety of looks, not sticking to something similar to his time of dress

Versatile and somehow up to date? Your not sure how but somehow he’s in fashion?

Like he must’ve found a copy of vogue or something cause there is no way he just guessed that this was the new trend

When you pressure him on it he replies that he’s simply that amazing

You call bullshit but have yet to find evidence

But in the meantime you ask get him to tell you about Da Vinci and you furiously jot down what he says

Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of Claudia’s quick wit

It makes him long for home yet as he looks at his descendants and ancestor he also feels….something

A small pit of warmth developing as he gets to know the inhabitants of this house longer

Meet Altair besides through a weird vision

His home is in Florence yet that feeling of comfort from the Villa is bleeding into these old (yet new) walls

“So this painting is his most famous work?” He asks looking at your computer with a bit of confusion, his scared lips quirking at the digital image.

“Yeah. This is actually probably the most famous painting in the world”

“Really? Of all his works this one is considered the best? I’m not doubting his skill but of all his pieces?”

“Believe me, I get it. It’s only this famous cause it was stolen”

“Stolen?!? Tell me who did it! I swear-”

Edward Kenway

For someone who was a feared pirate on the seas he’s surprisingly much less violent than you’d think him to be

Sure, he’s scary as hell still but at least he’s not stabbing you in the back and making off with your grandmas pearls or something

Still your a bit unnerved by him considering you did a project on him back in middle school and he’s now in your home

Munching on some god damn biscuits as if this was a normal situation

His son Haytham avoids his as best he can but he seems to bond with his grandson quite easily

Or more easily than he does with Haythem

It takes some time but you eventually go to him when you find him awake at the dead hours of night

A whisky bottle in hands as he occasionally takes a swig in silence as he stares out the window

You don’t talk

You don’t need to when he drinks in silence for awhile staring at the moon before eventually talking about the guilt

In his pursuit of power and gold he let people die

Greed woven into his soul as he sacrificed good men for his cause

He changed and did good yet his past haunts him

Hands stained red

Guilt eating away

A son who doesn’t want anything to do with him

At some point when he stops his rambles you speak

Reminding him that while his actions weren’t good he changed

It doesn’t wash the blood away but it stoped more from staining his hands

Though Haythem avoids him Connor is more than eager to fill his place

It doesn’t fix his overlying problems but it does help

In the morning he ends up talking with you more after this as your initial fear melts away

You end up seeing Edward Kenway, not the fiercesome captain of the Jackdaw

You see a man burdened by past mistakes and still wishes to do better

You see a human being at its core

With history it’s easy to forget the people your looking at was once alive and a breathing being

One who was just as flawed as you and I

But seeing a infamous pirate captain cry about issues pertaining not just time him made you remember that

He isn’t opposed to modernizing but seems to keep a certain sea-like touch to his appearance

Clothes for labourers and something loose is what he normally sticks to

He’s lucky though since he doesn’t exactly have traditional robes and can incorporate what he appeared in with a modern flair

Occasionally when he gets drunk he slurs out old shanties and talks about his epic tales

You might or might not have freaked the fuck out learning that James kidd was actually a woman

Mind blown

Ezio and Altair had to drag you away from your computer from writing an entire essay

Sitting on your countertop he holds a glass of whiskey in hand, one held out for you as you sit down beside him. The moon casts its gentle rays and lights the marble slab you both sit on. “I prefer Rum but this’ll do” it’s said in a playful tone that makes you nod and take a sip.

“I can grab some captain Morgan later…speaking of which, did you know him?

“No, but I did find a few of his things laying about “

“Care to tell?”

“Aye, sure thing”

Haytham Kenway

As the only Templar in this house it’s safe to say he’s definitely the outlier of the bunch

A relative lone wolf from the group that all hold some sort of Ill feelings towards him

From his father its confusion and sadness

The others it’s a mix of that and anger

From Connor it’s just plain…well your not quite sure how to describe it

The two’s entire family situation is just plain messy and thick with tension that their blades could cut through

But here’s the thing, in this house your also an outlier

A neutral zone so to say

Hell, the entire house seemed to be a haven of sorts from their whole Templar vs Assassin conflict

To be honest you don’t really care about this secret war

Well that’s a lie you are interested in these war of secret societies but you don’t specifically care to get involved in their politics

Not when you have business in interfering in it unless a fight breaks out and your telling everyone to calm the fuck down

So safe to say your kinda the only one who talks to Haytham

He is…well sometimes he’s a bit of an ass (in the British type of way) but at the same time he’s good conversation

Specifically when it comes to that of morals and philosophical beliefs

He is a conflicted man

A flawed one

But he holds his beliefs and morals despite the fact he’s been hurt and betrayed by a man he viewed as a mentor

He doesn’t talk about it much but he’s still hurt

Still seething with venom that burns his soul and flesh

Makes him want to lash out despite his upperclassman appearance and attitude

That despite it all he loves his son, so much so he willingly walked into what would be his death knowingly

That despite what happened he loves his dad yet can’t face him yet on account of what he became

What ideals and morals he still believes in even now

It’s perhaps he’s venting this to you rather than a journal because he knows you won’t judge him unfairly on the basis of what side your own

Your judging him as a flawed man and as an equally flawed person

It’s with him as well you open up about your own frustrations

How you still don’t know how to feel about this all

The fact that a lot of what you once knew was flipped on it’s head

Along with the fact your not even sure how to address your dad

It’s an entire mess but perhaps your both messed up together and that also draws you both to talking

To discuss your feelings of insucurity and confliction

To feel comfort that your not alone in not having your emotional shit in order

On some especially…emotional nights you both both have a cup of tea

He seems to enjoy that each time you use a different type, much of which used to be hard to obtain due to shipping and it’s prices

He hasn’t really yet grasped modern technology but your slowly helping him with it

It’s kinda like trying to teach a grandpa to figure out a phone, but now it’s him with the concept of a microwave

Like some of the others he’s yet to really also change his clothes to something modern

There has been a few times though he sported sweaters and vests

Your now working on helping his wardrobe since he prefers a sophisticated look

Occasionally he looks at the photos that line your walls, looking as you evolve through the ages

It’s…odd

With Connor he never had the chance to watch him grow

Never a snapshot to immortalize what he was like a child but now ones of you litter the walls like paintings

He feels melancholy

Yet at the same time he’s happy to get another chance maybe

One that is seemingly being helped by your gentle hand unknowingly

“I never thought about it until now but the stars are different” he says taking a sip of his matcha tea, he lets it pool on his tongue and experience the flavour. Not his favourite but not the worst

“That’s cause of light pollution here…though the stars do move so it it’s possible they’ve shifted position in the sky”

“Do they teach you about the stars in your schooling?”

“Yeah I took some. Not sure why, it just kinda spoke to me. Maybe it’s the Kenway blood”

Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway

Of the group Connor is the most quiet and surprisingly the one whom you connect with the best for some reason

Perhaps it’s cause your both socially awkward in ways that let you relate

Or the fact you’ve both been ostracized by society for various reasons

His company is that of a quiet one but one you accept it with ease as you both sit and enjoy each others company

A quiet kinship made of unspoken but understood words from one another

The reminder that someone else is there and your not truly alone

He is perhaps the one you feel you can understand the most

And it’s the same likewise for him

Your both people deeply hurt and still bleeding internally

People raised by only their mother in a cruel and harsh world

People who were let down one way or another by their father

People who are still mad and angry but use that to further their determination

It’s odd but you feel truly understood

Like your soul was peeled back to reveal at your core your still a lone spirit lost in the world

One clinging to what they know as their only lifeline in this confusing and jumbled mess of a situation

The hulking 6 foot 2 man shows you trails near your home

Taking to the forest paths you’ve know your entire life and helping you discover even more about them

And while he does this he teaches you more about the world as you both walk the old beaten path

He tells you how to identify what type of tree is which, which stones are likely geodes and what tracks belong to who

It’s honestly petty interesting especially since he adds snippets of stories from his heritage

In return you talk about what you know as well

Snippets of your own knowledge that he seems to store into his mind just as you do with his stories

An equal exchange of sorts

On these walks you begin to notice he takes you out on these when your at your most stressed

The times in which your mind is overworking and consuming itself with anxiety

The times in which you need to breath

Connor doesn’t seem like one to vocally express his care but he does so through action

Small inconspicuous actions that mean a lot more than what meets the eye

It’s seems that his towards you is helping you when you need it most

Taking you away to just take a moment for yourself

To just breath in the fresh air and let the sunset coloured leaves of autumn crunch under your boots

Letting the cold breeze take away your worries

It’s perhaps better than any type of verbal support

Yet another unspoken action of care and compassion through knowing and watching

Of watching and knowing when you need a break

When you realize this and give him a small tired smile as a thanks he seems to know

Only giving a small nod with a minuscule smile of his own

It only grows bigger when you begin to ask him if his traditions, of the stories and practices of his people that he’s more than willing to tell when he knows you ask out of genuine curiosity and respect

Connor is somewhat 50/50 in modernizing

He adapts quite well but still needs help with certain things as he navigates the situation

But like usual he is anything but resourceful as he watches what you do and figures it out

He helps the others quite a bit with what he’s picked up and somewhat takes pride in the fact he can help them

Whilst he’s privy to wearing his robes he isn’t against more modern clothes

The only problem though is sometimes finding stuff that fits him considering he’s not only a giant but also fairly muscular

But your both eventually able to find some stuff for him to wear that he likes

He really appreciates though that you try to buy clothes and jewelry from nearby indigenous peoples

It might not be his but he appreciates the sentiment and familiarity that the beaded jewelry give him

“I’ve lived here my whole life and walked down these paths a thousand times yet it seems more like your the local here” you say with amusement as you follow Conner through an area you’d be never been before.

He smiles, it’s small but there as he adds “just a matter of perspective. You see the paths your used to and I see ones you hadn’t noticed”

Desmond Miles

Yeah so this is entirely awkward for you

Like how the fuck do you emotionally deal with this and the fact your very dead dad who didn’t know you existed till now is now very alive

And living in your house with his very dead ancestors that are also now alive

Case and point you don’t, specifically you ignore the problem and act like everything is fine

You lock yourself away and try to avoid him like the plague

Somehow Scurry past him and into the kitchen to grab something before returning to your abode to eat

But then things got complicated

Things change

You began talking to the others

Slowly coming out the darkness of your study and joining the dinner table

But you still try to avoid him

It feels like the sight of him burns your mind, all those nights as a kid coming back to you

The hope and then disappoint in learning he died and that he likely never wanted you

Your mother never said this but the other kids did. They always teased and picked at the fact you were a mistake

It’s why you push so hard now to be the best, To prove them wrong (to prove to yourself that your worth existing)

The fact is that now he’s here and you don’t know how to deal with that

How would you even start?

What do you even say to him?

You quiet down when he enters a room because you don’t know what to do

Whatever your about to say dying in your throat like a caged bird and all that came come out are garbled noises as you evade him

Eyes casting down to your hands like a child averting their gaze from their parent when in trouble (he is your dad so it’s the same thing right?)

Leaving the room he’s in as quickly as you can once a take is done

The others notice quick, I mean how can’t they? A damn butter knife can cut through the tension

The whole thing with Haytham and Connor is less tense than this

But what can you even do?

How in thick do you talk to him and how can he even talk to you?

Your 18 and in university, he’s 25 and was a bartender in New York before apparently sacrificing himself for the world

He’s closer in age to being a big brother rather than your dad.

But even besides that he’s been long dead and gone since 2012

It’s been years since that point and more importantly he’s someone important and your not

He’s an assassin born to a bloodline of other assassins

Someone who was raised in this tradition with greatness not only in his origin but also in his death

And your you

A child born from a one night stand who’s only achievement is being good at knowing about old people

It hurts but it’s true

If he’s a star then your a candle compared to his light

A mere blip or spark to the greater picture

There had been times he looked like he wanted to say something but you scurry away before he can say anything

Sometimes you catch the looks and small gestures Ezio tries to make as if to encourage him to go up to you

How Connor sometimes brings up to you how he wishes for reconciliation with his dad and that perhaps it’s possible with your own

Altair not beating around the bush and plainly telling both him and you to talk

But it all feels for naught and dies when those feelings and thoughts return

But eventually he corners you

Well not really corners you per say but he catches you as you leave your study after a talk with Altair

“Listen I don’t have any grudge against you. For one you died, I’d be a dick if I blamed you for that or your decision to save the world and whatever. Second you didn’t know about me in the first place” you say briefly looking up at him before averting your gaze, he looks like he wants to say something but he can’t get a word out before you continue “but you don’t have to act like my dad or anything. You never asked for me, it was a mistake, I was a mistake and I’m fine with it.” (Your lying to yourself)

You leave before he can get a word out, and he’s left alone in the hallway. When he returns to Ezio he just sits down in silence. It’s enough for everyone to know I didn’t go the way he wanted.

Admittedly when you begin to notice odd figures at the achieves you write it off

I mean it could literally be anyone plus the supervisors aren’t making a fuss about them here

If anything their welcoming them and looking at them with hopeful eyes

Small glances full of opportunities in them

It’s odd but maybe their just some non-profit here to support the archive

Or even private benefactors of sorts

But then they turn their attention to you

Plastic smiles on their faces, artificial pleasantries as their main spokeswoman sits in front of you in a slick suit

Her stilettos tapping against the ground as your eyes trail to her bodyguards of sorts

They stand not too close nearby

Watching

Waiting

And then she begins talking

And slowly you grow more and more uncomfortable

Hands playing with one another, fingers twitching in your palm as crescent are indebted in your skin

They apparently are interested in your findings

In your research

But more specifically you

They’ve researched you…a lot

Down from where your mother was born to her great great something grandfather

And your father

…but that’s not public knowledge

It wasn’t even on your birth certificate

This….this isn’t

She smiles though now the darkness melts away into something more knowing

Dangerous and sadistic of sorts

And it’s there on her little pin showing her name you recognize the logo

Within your house you’d vaguely heard whispers of the others talking in hushed tones

You didn’t mind

The less you know the better in that sense

Out of sight and out of mind

But sometimes you’d hear the mumbles of a name that you didn’t put together until now

One spat with venom just as they did with the word of the Templar

Abstergo

You barely have time to react before your black bagged and sufficiently knocked out

Mind drifting to that of panic

What would happen to you?

What will happen when the others find out?

But then those thoughts fade away into the dark void of sleep

When you wake up things are odd

Everything is a sterile white and too bright for your foggy sleep tinged eyes

The room is blurred as is your senses as you weightlessly drift

Everything feels odd

And then it happens sharp and pure pain that leaves you writhing and screaming into the void

And that’s when you notice that white light had left and your in a void of sorts

Empty glitching effects all around you as your left to look around in confusion until you see something

A memory? Specifically one of your memories

Your staring at a simulation of sorts of your past self

A 8 year old in their bed with chubby cheeks pulled up into a melancholy smile

You recognize this moment, your small hands holding a picture that had long been put away into a scrapbook and forgotten

Your left wordless and confused

And then that bitch’s voice appears again and she explains

This entire thing is a simulation of your memories

And essentially their gonna go through your head picking through them to not only learn what they want but then use you as their lab rat cause of your bloodline.

Cause apparently memories of your ancestors could be accessed that way and it was generally easier to have a descendant rather than finding objects and artifacts

And it’s there in that simulation it feels like your mind is being ripped apart

Memories ripped from your mind to play out in front of you as she makes comments and documents them before their forced back in and another is ripped out

Like book having pages torn out and then crudely stitched back in

It hurts so damn much

Over and over

Your just left in screaming again on the ground of this simulated world as she makes idol comments

Left begging for it to stop

For someone to help

For the love of god someone help you make it stop

Of course this would happen to you

You’ve always had shit luck despite your whole family motto being “make your own luck”

What utter bullshit

You can’t make good luck from bad

Can’t just change things when the scales are already tipped one way

But then like a miracle from above she goes quiet and suddenly the memory is gone

And your left in the void still reeling from it all

Still on the glitching ground before once more white encompasses your view

Blinding and bright as your still recovering

And then an unfamiliar voice tunes in

“Your safe” it’s heavily accented, in an Irish twang that’s soft as he says these words to you. A reminder that your ok now, it’s over. “Can you walk?”

You try to look at him with squinting eyes yet they still can’t adjust, your limbs feel heavy like solid rock. Unmoving even as you try. With some difficulty you shake your head

“Aight, I’ll have you carry you then. Are you alright with that?”

“Just get me out of here…please. I just want to go home, I miss my family” it sounds pathetic but as tears begin to fall the stranger doesn’t seem to think Ill of you.

“Don’t worry, I get what that’s like.” The tone is sympathetic and like before is soft “you’ll be home I no time, I promise”

You think for a moment before responding “I trust you”. For a second you feel him go still at that before he picks you up.

For awhile there’s buzzing alarms and panic as your saviour gets you out whoever’s you were taken too

There’s not a moment of silence as he sharply runs and dodges past what you think to be gunshots

Occasionally he grumbles something but for the most part he seems calm

Composed despite the chaos of it all

So much so that it makes you wonder if this is an average Tuesday for him

There’s so much shout and yelling for your already pounding head

But sometimes the yells are silenced as the sound of a blade cuts it short

Footsteps far behind eventually stopping

Sirens getting more and more distant and allowing you and the man to breath

It’s there in the pocket of silence you learn his name

Shay

It sounds familiar, like really familiar yet you can’t put your finger on it

Either way your grateful because how can you not be?

Your away from that place

Away from the torture of having your mind picked apart like a lab experiment

Having the privacy of your memories looked at and prodded

But now your somewhat okay

Your eyes feel weird, your vision feels weird like it keeps switching between something

Your at least somewhat able to walk though it’s unbalanced

but Shay doesn’t seem to mind

He offers an arm that you cling to for support

A kind smile on his face as he makes sure you didn’t injure yourself further

And then you notice his clothes are….old

Like Haytham and Connor level old

And…shit

It’s halfway home through the trails you recognize due to Connor that your vision changes

The world feels bigger as if your third eyes opened or something

Shays figure and presence is highlighted in a clover green

And perched nearby is another green figure, one waiting for a good moment

Shay follows your sight before promptly having to duck out the way from a knife that flies at his head

He pushes you back behind him, you stumble back vision switch between monochrome and normal as someone else grabs you

Instinctively you almost yell before realizing who was now helping keep you steady

And the other person now attacking Shay

“Connor! He’s good! He saved me!”

“He’s a Templar!”

“So is Haytham and you haven’t killed him…again have you!”

At that Shay pauses, turning to look at you with confusion as Connor stops his attempt as slitting his throat

Ezio on the other hand helps you up but keeps a firm protective grip

Watching Shays movements like Connor in apprehension before the two settle down and stare at you for more detail

Both waiting on your word

“He saved me and today has been a long ass day-“

“You’ve been gone for 4 days”

You pause momentarily at that before adding “long 4 ass days of having my mind literally ripped apart. Can we please head back to the house and settle this there? Thank you”.

The moment you get back your almost immediately tackled to the ground by a familiar white and red hoodie wearing absent (dead) father

It’s….odd but nice

Desmond (still feels too awkward to call him dad) is holding you like a lifeline and you notice bags beneath his eyes

He looks like hell

But none of the others are any better either

They all like positively exhausted yet light up when seeing your safe

Your home

It reminds you of your mom when you returned home from school

The long work day evident on her brow but her smile lighting up the room at the sight of your face

It’s no different compared to then except for the fact they all (except Haytham) then protectively pull you away from the nearby Shay who’s being glowered at by Connor

Safe to say it’s a little awkward until you somehow pull free of Desmond’s death grip hobble your ass between the two lone Templars and Assassins

A long discussion having to take place between them all as you not only explain what happened but also it seems you all forget one crucial thing

It seems you forgot about your mom’s side of the family

Whoop de Doo you have more things to process and so does everyone else here

Specifically Connor and Haytham Because before apparently knew (or know of) Shay

Great, another complex relationship in this household like there needed to be more of that

But with this entire situation it also highlights something bigger

Your not safe

None of you are safe

Perhaps you never truly were

And that in turns leaves you with the difficult decision of what to do next

Because In this difficult game of politics between two ever warring groups your a neutral force

You wanted to stay that way but unfortunately fate had other plans

as your drug into this game your left with limited options of sides for not only yourself but for the others who seem keen on following you

Even the two (former?) templars seem to follow your decision

So When Des…er your dad suggests finding his old friends it seems like the best option

It’s either that or be kidnapped and prodded again and who knows what abstergo will do to everyone else (even one’s that once upon a time we’re on their side)

Besides, he says you’ll get along well with someone named Shaun so It can’t be too bad

So he sends out a message and you leave the home you find yourself look at with melancholy

It stopped being a home when mom died but now it seemed like it was just that again

Only time can tell what will bring upon you next

But….you think you’ll be ready for whatever is thrown at you when you have this odd group of family at your side

The expression of blood is thicker than water never really held much weight since you only ever had your mom until she was gone

But maybe you understand it a bit better now

#platonic #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed imagine #desmond miles x reader #ezio auditore x reader #ezio x reader #altair x reader #connor kenway x reader #haytham kenway x reader #shay cormac x reader #edward kenway x reader

[strawberrystepmom]

nsfw - mdni. this isn't graphic it's foreplay but i'm suffering leave me alone. fukuzawa x f!reader. implied age gap, size kink if you squint, reader is wearing a dress, he is referred to as reader's boyfriend. divider by cafekitsune!

"Sweetheart?"

The term of endearment draws your attention away from your sketchbook and where it rests in front of you. You lay on your front in your boyfriend's bed, swinging your legs behind you, and grin at the sound of Yukichi's voice coming from down the hallway.

"In here," you shout back to confirm your location. He wasn't expecting you'd be here at all, assuming you'd skulk back to your apartment instead of his home, but relief washes over him hearing your call.

You are just what he needs after the day he has had. There is never a dull moment at the Armed Detective Agency.

"Welcome home."

You turn to look over your shoulder and see him entering the room, haori draped over his arm. Raising his eyebrows when he takes a look at your position, a bright grin spreads across your face.

"I probably should have called you and told you I'd be here but I forgot." Eyes following his movements, you watch him hang up his garments and make his way to the bed where you lay, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight when he slides his knees onto it. "After my appointment I came straight here."

Wordlessly, he glances downward at your body and slides his hands over the curve of your ass, the relieved sigh he breathes making you giggle.

"Did you miss me?"

The man you are so enchanted by leans down to kiss your cheek, hands sliding from your ass to your hips and finally, your waist. He feels so imposing when he positions himself like this over you and heat warms your face, traveling from your cheeks to your heart and to places even lower than that.

"Always until we meet again. How was your day?"

Sighing, you lean forward on your elbows and hunch your shoulders, clasping your hands in front of you. Overall, the day was fine but you have to play up the drama for his sake more than your own. It's one of the things he loves the most about you, that penchant for making even the mundane a tale.

"It was really fine. I went to pick up some groceries, dropped those books I forgot to return off with an apology note. I even remembered to stop and get lunch today." You smile softly, enjoying the feel of his body above yours even if desire makes you wish he'd run those hands over your body again, mapping out territory that belongs to him like a lord in days long passed with his fief. "My appointment went okay, I'll have my blood work back in a few days."

Without any warning, his hands slide up your waist and one of his fingers presses one of the buttons on the back of your dress, unfastening it. Turning your head and glancing over your shoulder, Yukichi pauses for a moment and half smiles, sliding his knees onto either side of your hips.

"Keep going. You were telling me about your appointment."

With a nibble of your lower lip you nod and press your chest into the bedding beneath you, flattening the curve of your spine. He finds the next button keeping the soft skin of your back hidden from his sight and pops it out of the hole keeping it in place, the gap in your dress now wide enough that he can see your shoulder blades.

"The appointment was easy, just in and ou..."

Whatever words that existed on your tongue die when he curls his index finger and brushes the back of the digit over your flesh, goosebumps erupting after the feather light touch. You shiver in response and Fukuzawa chuckles, leaning over your body and letting his slightly overgrown hair brush against you.

"It was in and out?" He asks from right above your ear, lower lip brushing the upper shell of it. "That's great. I was worried they'd keep you waiting."

Those offensively elegant and nimble fingers still make easy work of the buttons on the back of your dress and a whine escapes you and as quiet as you try to make it, he catches it with ease and smirks. You feel the curve of his lips against your ear, the sensation causing you to arch your back enough that your chest is off of the mattress completely.

"We both know how impatient you become when made to wait, don't we?"

#fukuzawa x reader #fukuzawa yukichi x reader #kendall writes #i need to leave this man alone