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saerins · 11 months

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─── 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋

+ jing yuan x f!reader | wc 1.9k | content: fluff, established relationship, slightly suggestive

notes: this is it babes , i’m hopelessly down bad for this man and it’s been what … a week ? help !! but also , first shot at him so i hope this isn’t too ooc or anything >_< rbs appreciated muwah !!

summary: where you come to realise that jing yuan can be just like you, in all the good ways.

jing yuan is a busy, busy man.

but surely it isn’t that selfish for you to wish that all mornings are like this? this; with your boyfriend by your side past ten in the morning, half-naked under your covers and sound asleep. luckily, he doesn’t have any urgent matters to look into today and fu xuan has told you to make sure he gets enough rest today before the pace picks up again.

apparently, he’d worked himself ragged the past week and earns even the worry of the master diviner herself.

when he’s not general, when the armor comes off and the vulnerability switches on—jing yuan’s your boyfriend, and a very doting one, at that. the kind who spoils you endlessly with what he can, the one who’s quick to notice your every behaviour and tendencies, no matter how big or small.

the sunlight slips past the curtains, a sliver falling perfectly onto his face and down his arms. jing yuan is facing you, eyes closed, hair down and looking every bit the perfect specimen of a man.

that’s why you can’t help yourself, can’t help running your index finger down the line of his triceps, down to his forearms, appreciating the way the goosebumps sear delicately across his skin. you can faintly see the scar across his chest—an outcome of his earlier days ravaging battlefields, before he became general.

you still remember the small conversation the two of you had when you first saw it, when he first visited your humble house, when he first saw all of you and you, all of him.

“you don’t think it’s unsightly?” he asked.

it was funny, you thought, how jing yuan cared so much about what an ordinary girl like you thought of him.

you shook your head, accepting the kiss he leaned in to give. “not at all, general. nothing is as long as it’s on you.”

the fingers that trailed down his arms have made their way onto his hair, twirling it around the finger before it falls peacefully back onto his shoulders. his gray locks are smoother and prettier than your own hair—you find yourself envious.

how is jing yuan so pretty simply like this?

fingertips graze gently over his cheeks, thumb caressing the mole below his left eye. you smile idly to yourself, stupidly dreaming about what it would be like to spend the rest of your life next to jing yuan, much like the lovestruck idiot you are.

you think maybe jing yuan wouldn’t even think that far. he has far too many important matters to think about, matters that concern the safety and longevity of the xianzhou luofu.

besides, the two of you have only been together for two years. you’ve known friends who only got engaged five years into their relationship. aren’t yours just like an infant compared to that?

“do you do this every morning or am i just lucky to catch when it happens today?”

his voice snaps you out of your delusions, your hand instinctively jumping back towards yourself. jing yuan laughs at your sudden movement, and you curse yourself for only being able to think about how good he looks when he’s happy like that, when his eyes turn into little crescents and the way his mouth curves much like a child would.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you,” jing yuan says, letting you meet his golden eyes, imitating your earlier position by caressing the side of your cheek, smiling softly at you. “good morning.”

grateful that he doesn’t harp on it, you smile right back, leaning into his palm. “good morning,” you greet, happily accepting his invitation into his arms, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. “do not ever mention that again,” you make sure to tell him, still slightly embarrassed with yourself. “and that was a one time thing.”

jing yuan catches how humiliated you are, with the way you’re pouting and speaking in hushed tones. he chuckles, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm. “whatever you say, princess.”

it still makes your heart skip a beat—his pet names. it’s either princess, or angel, sometimes love. you love all of them. anything, as long as it’s from him.

“i am curious though,” he says, kissing the top of your head, lingering there momentarily to catch the whiff of your shampoo from the night before. “what were you thinking about? you seem happy.”

you’re not sure whether he means to tease you, because you’re at least sure he knows the rough ballpark. what else could you have been thinking about besides him? still, you entertain him anyway.

“you.”

you feel him stiffen a little before relaxing.

“yeah? what about me?”

you can just feel him smiling to himself, half happy and half teasing you, but mostly the latter. and maybe you’re just overwhelmed with bliss today that you don’t mind sharing, though it takes you a while to compose your erratically beating heart before you can say it out.

“i was just thinking… what it would be like,” you pause, hoping he won’t think you’re getting ahead of yourself, “to be with you forever.”

jing yuan’s fingers don’t stop playing with yours, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your sides with his other hand. it’s his way of assuring you that you’re not stepping over any boundaries, that he doesn’t think you’re too much. it’s his silent way of telling you don’t worry, he loves you.

“that’s what you think about when you watch me sleep, huh?” he chuckles and you know he’s teasing this time.

“jing yuan,” you call his name, strict, tilting up to lock gazes with him, “i swear if you—”

but he takes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, leaning you up to kiss him, and he makes sure it’s a long, deep one—makes sure you know how he feels. despite how it looks, he’s gentle. the pads of his fingers don’t hurt your cheeks and the way he kisses you is soft and slow, because he wouldn’t dream of hurting you. ever.

when he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips, he smiles again, with so much adoration you feel like you can melt away, like he’s your sun and you hopelessly orbit around him, like he’s your entire world.

“saying such sweet things when i’m already hopelessly in love with you,” he pauses, a low chuckle exhaled, “how cruel.”

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a grin. “i only do that as revenge,” you say, playing along.

“oh, do you now?”

“mhm, it’s your fault, really, general, for making me fall so deep so quick,” you confess, feeling your heart soar as he presses your foreheads together. “so i thought you should get a taste of your own medicine.”

jing yuan’s lashes flutter against yours as you both stare into each other’s eyes, completely enraptured. “don’t worry, you already have.”

sometimes, you’re afraid that his feelings for you have gone stale. that perhaps, with all this time apart, maybe he realises that he doesn’t need you, doesn’t want you, would do better without you.

but times like these—times where he anchors you down, lets you remember that he’s human, just like you—you know that it’s not the case. because just like you, he can be so hopelessly in love too. he can dream of you, and think of you endlessly throughout the day. even when he barely has time to correspond with you, even when he’s thinking of ways to prolong peace in your world.

jing yuan will always love you.

he clears his throat when he pulls away, looking sheepishly to the side. “you know, i was afraid of something when i caught you smiling.”

you raise a brow, tilting your head to the side, utterly confused. what would someone like him have to be afraid of?

as though he senses your question, he sits up and rifles through his side of the drawer, and you follow suit, draping your blanket over your own half-naked body. you see him taking something into his palms, hiding it before unfurling his fingers delicately in front of you.

it makes you gasp, makes you feel like maybe your heart has stopped beating for a second.

“jing yuan, what is this?”

the solitaire diamond ring glows radiantly in the palm of his hands, the scalloped band studded with natural white diamonds.

for the first time since you’ve met him, you see him being embarrassed. “exactly what you think it is,” he recovers, taking your left hand in his. “i’ve kept this for a while now, wondering when would be considered the right time.”

it’s hard for you to believe. jing yuan is a highly sought-after man. he has everything anyone would want in a husband—yet here he is, declaring his lifelong love to you. you can’t imagine that the same general who leads the luofu, the same soldier who’s protected everyone and made this peaceful life a possibility, is the same person who says he wants you.

“y/n, i knew i wanted to be with you for our entire lives from that first night we had dinner together,” jing yuan confesses, smiling just thinking about how you’d told him about your family, and about how passionate you seemed about taking care of the orphaned kids around your area. “i’m sorry we don’t spend much time together, but i’m working on that.”

he doesn’t have to apologise—you know it comes with the job. you want to tell him that, but you’re still a little stunned about all of this that you can’t get a single word out.

jing yuan’s golden eyes stare straight at you, the desire and love so apparent it overwhelms you, in a good way. “yesterday, fu xuan asked me something—what would you regret the most if the world ended tomorrow?”

fu xuan? is she in on this?

“and the answer came faster than i thought it would.” he brings the diamond ring up in between your faces, grinning from ear to ear, childlike. “it’s that i didn’t get to spend enough time with you, that i didn’t get to marry you.”

is he really about to do this?

“i don’t want to rush you into—”

“yes.”

it came rolling off your tongue before you can stop yourself, and jing yuan blinks at you, completely speechless, before he breaks out into a wide smile, hand on the back of your neck and pulling you towards him, planting a big kiss on your lips.

(jing yuan finds it amusing how honest you are; it’s one of the qualities he finds most attractive in you. every single day he finds out more and more things about you that makes him fall even more in love. you’re his every weakness and yet his every strength—you’re dangerous, the good kind.)

before he puts the ring on your finger, he pauses and clears his throat. “y/n, be my wife?”

(he figures he should ask properly, even though he already knows your answer. the grin you give him is enough to send him into overdrive, enough happiness to last him the rest of his and your long lifespan.)

“make me your wife, general.”

(and when he puts the ring on your finger, he knows. he knows that you’re it and he’s going to protect you his whole goddamn life. that he’s going to love you like he can love no other.)

“looks like you’re mine forever now, y/n.”

#jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan fluff #hsr fluff #jingyuan fluff #honkai star rail fluff #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #jingyuan x you #jingyuan x y/n #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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ecoamerica · 20 days

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youtube

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hiimawarish · 9 months

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too soft for all of it

s. mutual pining with jing yuan (and a very uncomfortable yanqing). cw. fluff. maybe a little crack? mutual pining. funny misunderstanding. maybe a little suggestive, but not too much. female/afab reader. tw. none. not proofread. wc. 0.69k a/n. i have no excuse for this more than i love this man and he has ruined me. credits. dividers by @/cafekitsune.

As Yanqing hesitates outside the door, he wonders if you really think you’re fooling anyone. You’re not. He is sure of that. Knowing the General, there is no way he is convinced that whatever you two had going on was kept a secret. The soft echo of laughter within the Seat of Divine Foresight tells him as much—the poor boy recognized your voice as soon as he had arrived, with his hand up balled into a fist, almost knocking, yet he stopped. He stopped. And he has been here, stuck in front of the door, for what feels like an eternity.

“I need to go,” He can hear you say. The voice is muffled, but his training makes it easy to strain his ear to understand. “My break at work will be over soon.”

“I’m sure I can come up with a good excuse for Lady Fu to allow you more time.”

Ah, there he is.

Yanqing feels himself blushing, then. What is he doing here, frozen in front of the closed door, listening to this conversation? The truth is that the General had called for him. That is the first reason. The second, well, he had some pieces of information to report. Now he wonders if they are important enough to knock and interrupt whatever is going on inside. The boy shakes his head at that—no, maybe he is merely imagining things. As laid down as the General is, he truly doubts that he would make use of the Seat of Divine Foresight for such inappropriate acts.

Right?

God, he just wants to get out of here.

“General?” Yanqing finally knocks, feeling both ashamed and upset that he seems caught in this position. Honestly, who does he think he is fooling? Although the office’s expanse is more than enough, it isn’t as if the giggles and whispers do not make it outside at all. Ugh. “You called for me?”

“Yes. Come in.”

Yanqing feels himself freezing again at that. He had… He had actually asked him to come in?

“Yanqing?” The General calls, again.

“Coming!”

The boy pushes the doors open against his better judgement. His mind runs wild with all the possible scenarios, with all his possible outbursts… only for him to be left speechless. There is no state of undress, no inappropriate scene. The only thing out of place is the starchess. You’ve been playing… All this time, all those whispers, everything… For a game?

Yanqing feels himself blushing, then, furiously. General Jing Yuan watches him with curiosity first, and then the molten gold eyes of his gleam knowingly—ah, he has been discovered.

“Yanqing,” You call him. He seems startled, and still flushed, but if you notice, you do not mention it. “Tell the General that he cannot move this piece like this. He’s cheating.”

Ah, his old antics.

“I am not cheating,” Jing Yuan crosses his arms across the expanse of his chest, an amused smile curving into his lips as he glances at you. Yanqing observes the exchange in silence. Neither of you say anything, and yet the General’s eyes seem to soften as they lay on you. “You’re a sore loser.”

“Says the one who’s always hiding pieces of chess,” Yanqing adds.

Jing Yuan makes a face. “That’s different.”

“How so?” You retort, almost exasperated.

Though your voice sounds upset, Yanqing can see beyond that. He can see the longing in your eyes as you glance at the general, those secretive looks that you both think no one else can see, but for the Lieutenant are evident. He notices the lingering touch of your hand on Jing Yuan’s shoulder as you nudge him, playfully, the way he smiles at the feeling of your hand on him.

Yanqing realizes, then, that perhaps the General is softer than he once thought.

It’s apparent.

“I’m leaving now,” you announce, taking a few steps toward the exit. “I already wasted my break on a game with a cheater.”

A rumble of laughter parts Jing Yuan’s lips at your words. “You wound me.”

Yanqing stays silent, watching you banter—yes, the General has definitely gone soft.

Soft for you.

more works.

#honkai star rail #jing yuan #honkai jing yuan #jing yuan honkai #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #natsu writes #yanqing #hsr

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kelppsstuff · 2 months

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hiii i've been reading some of your work and i LOVE them!! do you mind doing lucifer hcs?? ❤️

Lucifer HC

Masterlist

Warnings: implied nwsf

Awe your so sweet thank you darling, and I hope you like this!

— Noticing each other HC —

Besides Charlie, you would be the one to force him to get his shit together.

After Lilith left him he closed himself off from everyone but their you were, persistent on making sure he wasn’t alone.

(In this I’m just saying your a maid, so I’m sorry if you don’t like it 😭 it’s just the way you two met)

You had been with the Morningstar family for thousands of years. You were the housekeeping.

You had always admired Lucifer from afar. He was the ruler of hell, it was a hard job and you admired on how he actually did it. Free will.

You knew you loved him when you saw him goofing off with little Charlie. You had went to wake her up, like normal, only to find her dad tickling her. He had the brightest smile on his face. And in that moment you loved him. Not that he knew. He never really noticed you.

When Lilith left, he’d fire all the help around the house. Wanting to be completely alone.

However you stayed, because being without him was true hell, and you couldn’t handle that.

At first Lucifer would snap at you. Placing his anger, to the closest thing. You. You never minded, he would immediately apologize after.

Eventually thoughts of Lilith left his mind, being replaced with thoughts of you.

Lucifer saw you in a complete different light when you placed pancakes in front of him on the table, spilling the syrup on accident.

You fessed and apologized over and over, but he didn’t care. You started to clean up you mess.

It was the first time you ever made a mistake in front of him. A piece of hair fell in your face from your frantic cleaning, and you just looked divine.

That day he decided to stop wearing his wedding ring.

— Pursuing you HC —

Lucifer had started his quest by giving you rubber ducks.

Gift giving, along with touch was his love language and boy did he spoil you.

He had decided to go out, and explore the town. (Everyone in hell was talking about it considering how rare it is.) He took you along with him. Anything you’d look at more than one second he’d buy it.

You found it odd, but shook it off. It definitely wasn’t helping your crush on him.

The next venture he took was truly get to know you. Safe to say his “school girl crush” became so much more when he did.

He found that you weren’t perfect, and he loved you even more for it.

When he helped Charlie with her hotel he had decided to get his life in order.

He was tired of hiding his feeling. Tired of hiding behind a broken mask. He just wanted you. To show you how much he was worth.

He started to get more clingy. He would just randomly hold your hand when walking. Would ask you to watch a movie and end up laying in your lap. (He went out to his way to buy a TV.)

Pretty soon, you two had actually started to act like a couple. So he had confessed.

He was thrilled when you said the worlds “I love you too.” His wings flew out as he picked you up, spinning and flying you around.

— Dating HC —

When you wake up, he’d whine for you to go back to bed with him.

Always makes you breakfast.

Gives you a bouquet once a week of your favorite flowers.

Often sings to you. Loves if you sing with him

You two take baths together all the time!

He’ll have zoomies, and I feel like he’d ask you to fly with him every time.

He’ll randomly place his face in your chest, with the excuse “I’m the perfect size.”

He tells you jokes all the time mostly about ducks.

When he has meetings he’ll always drift off in thought about you.

What you’re were doing

What you were doing before he left.

How you got on your knees for him.

Now he has a boner in the middle of a meeting that he’ll make you pay for.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #masterlist #x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne #hc

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yourlocaltreesimp · 7 months

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Yan!Chain Headcannons

Wild and Warriors

part 1

part 2

Tw: Yandarism and it’s accessories, violence, obsession, manipulation, unhealthy power dynamics (?)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Wild

It took him a while to fully trust you. Well, he recognised that he trusted long before he realised just how much of himself he wanted you to know. It took him longer to remember just how important you were on his journey, how you stuck by his side through rainy days and sunny skies. He knew you wouldn’t mind the blood on his hands.

He suppressed the memory of your guidance after you left, not wanting to admit that he’d lost another friend on his assignment of saving Hyrule. Perhaps it was his guilt that did it, blotting out your face and forgetting your warmth on his skin. Or perhaps it was others, like Impa and Zelda, neither of which saw you. Neither of which believed him, even as he wracked with sobs at the loss of you.

Main love languages are physical touch and acts of service. He will stick to your side as Hyrule burns now he has you back. Especially since they neglected to realise your importance, your utter divinity. How gracious you were to forgive them. But he was taught to be ruthless. And the wilds only coaxed it out of him farther. He’d never leave your side, doing whatever it was you asked. Cook food? He is the chef afterall. Fetch something? You shouldn’t need to tire yourself on something he could do for you. Protect you? What he was trained to do, and you’re far more worthy of his attention. Kill a man? His only question is how you’d like it done. Anything for his angel. Anything.

He loves being close to you. Having you there. Sure, he loves being wrapped around you, keeping you safe from the cruel world. But there’s something about having you hold him as if he’s precious that just makes him swoon. He’s at your beck and call already, but he dreams of having your hands in his hair and being between your legs arms.

He is a downright fool. Just in general, but especially for you. Anything you want done and he’s already running to do it, even if there’s no plan in his mind. Lord forbid you’re ever harmed or taken though. Don’t get me wrong, the others are just as seething and prepared to scorch the earth until you are returned, but Wild won’t wait. No. He’ll slaughter armies. If he could take on all of the champions and hold his own, he can take them all. Especially if it’s in your name, or for your hand.

Or, Better yet, it’s one of the few times he does plan. He’s so eerily still and quiet as he mulls over every detail of how to save you, how to avenge you. That’s the Wild the world needs to worry about. Sure, the feral one is scary. But when he’s pissed and planning? Terrifying.

Would probably ask to marry you. He already has a house, title, land and favour of the crown, all he needs is a wife and kids. And he knows there’s no one else that could fill that role. You protect him, even when it’s not your job. You make him happier than anything. You calm him from his night terrors and patiently wait for him to stop clawing at his scars. You bandage his wounds, you help him cook, you bless him to stand at your side. He couldn’t live without you. Please don’t leave again.

He wouldn’t necessarily kidnap you. But don’t be surprised if a portal drags you back to his universe after everything is said and done.

Preferred nicknames for you: (my) Love, Dear(est), my flower, honey

Bonus: Feral. He is absolutely and utterly feral. Not to your face, no, he’s the goofy champion you knew him to be. But to the men who look at you as if you were an object, to the women that glared at you as if you were filth, he was unhinged.

Warriors

He’s chivalrous, albeit a little bit of a flirt when you first met. Sure, he’s a little more hesitant, given how familiar you are and how his heart fluttered, but he’s just as much as a flirt as we all agree he is. That is, until he remembered you. Then he can’t even bring himself to utter your name without his face turning red.

Man is whipped.

Utterly done for.

He usually didn’t miss the loud boasting of his old comrades. The knights were not usually the type of comfort he seemed out, despite their familiarity. But now, he wished he had their advice. He’d finally found a person to faun over and yet he’s stumbling over his own words.

His feelings derail into obsession after seeing you so easily speaking with the others. How he wished he could have you at his side and his side only. But he kept his ambitions to himself, playing lovesick fool to the others so they wouldn’t expect his knife.

He’d consider dealing with the others. Weather or not he goes through with it varies on a lot of things, but the thought has passed through his mind.

He doesn’t have a love language that he expresses, more just finding whatever makes you the most flustered and sticking to that. Praises and flattery? He’ll write ballads, poems, letters, whatever it is you wish. He’d hold you for hours if it what made you happy, having an arm always strewn around your soulders or waist. He’d do whatever it is you wanted to do, keeping you save and enjoying the happiness you excerpted.

He, however, absolutely adores quality time with you. It doesn’t need to be much, or anything at all. Just so long as you’re near and content with him, he’s head over heels.

Another one to court you traditionally. Flowers, love letters, fancy dates, fancier gifts, whatever your heart desired of him. He does this because it’s the only way of romance he’s familiar with, courtesy of the novels he’s read, but also to silently show off to the others that you’re his. Not something that’s shared. If you shatter a vase and share the peices, it’s just a shard. Not a vase. He doesn’t want just a fraction of your love, a shard of your heart. He wants all of it.

He’d kidnap you. 100%. He’d flaunt off his new spouse too, so everyone knows who to return them to if ever you ran away. You’d be safe, albeit not the normal definition of free. You have everything you desire. But he’d definitely play white knight, putting you through danger to save you from it. Just to remind you how much safer it his to be with him.

Favourite nicknames for you: My love, My dear, Dearest, Darling, My heart, My soul, Maybe just Mine on occasion.

Bonus: He kissed your hand when he met you. Got on one knee and everything.

#linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #yandere linked universe #link x reader #link x you #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #x reader #yandere link x reader #yan!wild #yan!warriors #fir’s library

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disenchantedif · 3 months

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Here’s a commission I did for @stephschoices and her MC Lili since we’re all in a Luci mood lol. While I code the rest of Luci’s scenes, here’s this to tide you all over 🤲

Remembering the anniversary of a relationship that’s ended is a unique kind of torture, you think. It was once a day you celebrated and now it caused nothing but pain. Time is ruthless, and nothing stays the same.

Well, some things stay the same.

Like how your heart skips a beat when you see him slumped over the railing in the hallway, looking out at the night sky. That’s never changed, and you don’t think it ever will. Lucien Rivera will, perhaps unfortunately, always take your breath away. Then your heart sinks as you see the ruffled wings, the whiskey bottle dangling between limp fingers, the way his head is bowed as if in prayer.

He’s not praying, you know that much. Despite being part angel, Lucien never had much faith in anything.

You approach quietly, your steps silent against the concrete. He’s too far gone to hear you anyways, you realize, reaching out a gentle hand to nudge his shoulder. He spins around, the shitty overhead light reflected in his wide eyes.

It’s quiet for a moment, then your name tumbles out of his clumsy lips, “Leliana…”

Maybe it’s providence, be it of fate or the divine or something you aren’t even aware of, that you brought you both here. Maybe it’s your shit luck, or maybe it’s a chance you’ve been wishing for in the depths of your heart. Either way, he’s here and so are you.

“Lucien,” You force his name out, and it feels like the air has been knocked out of your lungs, “I think…I think you’ve had enough.”

You glance pointedly down at the bottle. He looks away.

“I’d disagree,” He mutters.

When you hold your hand out, you don’t expect him to actually hand the whiskey over. He does, though, obediently and with shaking hands. There’s no lid in sight, which tells you he fully planned on drinking the whole thing tonight.

“Is Cameron back at your dorm?” You ask, and the knowledge that you don’t know the ins and outs of his life anymore is like acid on your tongue.

Lucien gives a stilted laugh, “No. He’s with his aunt.”

You offer your arm when he tries to stand on wobbling legs. He stares at it for a long moment, like he isn’t quite sure if he’s imagining it or not. Then he moves gingerly to take it, his skin on yours both foreign and familiar.

You know very well where his dorm is. Perhaps you’re over conscious of it, the fact that he lives just down the hall. It was stinging, at first, that he was so close yet so far. That seems to be the common theme between the two of you.

“Why?” Lucien asks, his gaze dismal.

“You need help,” You say, as if it isn’t tearing you apart from the inside out to be so close to him.

The look he gives you calls you out on the lie, but he’s retained enough manners to say nothing.

You reach his dorm, and he’s left the door unlocked. You’d fret about safety if it was anyone else, but it’s Lucien, so you push the urge down. He ambles to the couch when you release him, sitting in a heap of mussed curls and disheveled feathers. You open the fridge, cringing slightly at the lack of food as you get a bottle of water.

“Drink this,” You say, handing it to him before you drift back into the small kitchen.

The crinkling plastic tells you he listened as you pour the rest of the whiskey out. He doesn’t object, despite seeing you do it. When you turn, his eyes are locked on you, a half empty bottle held in his hands.

“Do you need anything?” You can’t help but ask, surprised when the question makes him wince away.

“You,” He mumbles, sullen and slurred.

At first, you think there’s more to what he’s saying. That he has some request for you. You almost ask a question, to clarify, when the realization strikes you.

It’s just…you.

Perhaps you sit next to him because your knees are weak, or because you feel like you can’t quite breathe, but either way you end up on the couch. His hand is so close to yours, and you long to reach out. When you look up at him, you see he’s looking down at your hands as well. You wonder if he has the same impulse, the same desire.

You think he does. You hope he does.

“Do you-“ You swallow the words down, unsure if you should ask.

Does he remember? Does he know what today is? Or is it just another thing lost, another thing time has consumed in its ruthless pursuit of your memory?

You already risk forgetting his touch, his skin, his smile. The way his voice used to sound, so kind and in love.

“I remember.” He says, voice rough.

Is that better or worse? You don’t know. Then his fingers brush yours, bold, and you lose track of any thoughts you’d been scraping together.

“You should rest,” You say, instead of the thousand other words that threaten to spill out.

“I…” He hesitates, his lip trembling before he bites it, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh.

“I can stay,” You offer, unsure if it’s wanted.

“Please,” He whispers.

It’s wanted. You’re wanted. You thought being forgotten was torture, but this is so much worse. Knowing he wants you and you want him but history and pain and things that can’t be taken back are pushing you apart…

You curse fate, the divine, your luck, whatever it is that brought the two of you to this point.

“Okay,” You nod slightly, “I’ll stay for a bit.”

He leans forward, curling into the couch, tucking his wings around him like a blanket. He keeps ahold of your hand, though, clutching it like a lifeline. He rests his head on the stiff upholstery, turned so he can still watch you.

“Would you sing?” He asks, his voice painfully small.

You falter slightly. He squeezes your hand. He wants you to sing, so you sing. It’s a lullaby, one that lingers in your memory from a past long gone. Just another thing time has ripped away. The Latin spills out easily, as if you know it by heart, your voice shaking just like your mother’s used to.

He doesn’t care. Not about the shaking, or the way your hand trembles in his. He looks at you with shining eyes, fighting the fatigue that threatens to close them. He doesn’t want this to end, and neither do you. In the dim light of the living room, he watches you sing like he’s finally found faith.

#luci rivera #tw alcohol #had so much fun writing this #i also got to sprinkle in some MC lore which I love #for the luci fans while I finish coding 🤲

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azrielbrainrot · 3 months

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The Devil I Revel In - Part II

Demon!Azriel x Priestess!Reader

Description: Your duties take you into the forest often but one day you feel compelled to explore further. What could go wrong?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3992

Notes: This was supposed to be a bit darker but I crave fluff. With the ideas I have it will get darker eventually though. Also I hope Az isn't too ooc but since it's an au he has to be a little.

Part I

The weeks after your encounter with the demon were spent in a limbo-like state. Some days it feels like you actually dreamed the whole thing up. Your ankle doesn't even have a scar after almost being cut off in the trap. There's nothing left of that day but your memories, memories that go against everything you ever thought you knew.

Not only did a demon help you but he also showed you the wards never protected you from demons like you had been taught your whole life. You didn't know what to believe anymore. It felt like your whole life changed but, at the same time, you were stuck in the exact same place.

When it was time for your next monthly visit, the ground was covered in ice and snow, making it impossible to make the journey. This usually happened in the last month of the year, you were used to it, but, for some reason, this time you insisted with the priestesses to let you go anyway. Of course they didn't let you and almost punished you for being so persistent. They reminded you of your place in the temple and gave you a few extra chores.

It was after this incident, while you were washing clothes outside and your hands trembled horribly because of the cold, that you remembered you were just playing a role. You remembered how many times you got in trouble when you were young simply for asking questions or wanting to play. You remembered how, one day similar to today, where everyone else was getting ready for dinner and you were left with extra chores that were too hard on your body, you had chosen to go along with everyone else so you could at least have some peace of mind. You had almost lost yourself in this role, and maybe coming so close to death had reawakened you.

During the next month, you found yourself not paying much attention to the prayers for peace and safety, only asking that no more snow fell when it was time to go into the forest. Even the prayers asking for forgiveness had stopped. You didn't feel guilty anymore about hiding the truth of the wards from everyone. The demon was right, there had never been an attack by a demon despite the wards not working on them and they wouldn't have listened to you, they never do.

You hadn't realized he specified that demons were the only creatures able to pass through the wards until a few days later. This meant the wards still protected you from other monsters and that demons just didn't choose to attack humans, at least in this area. Your whole life you had been told that demons were mindless creatures, who only craved death and destruction. You now knew this wasn't completely true. You weren't so naive to think that all demons were kind just because one helped you but just as there are good and bad humans, there must also be good and bad demons.

When it was finally time to go back to the forest, the sun was shining and the road was dry. You had never thanked the Gods so earnestly in your prayers before. You weren't sure if the good weather had anything to do with divine intervention but you thanked them anyway, yearning to get out of the suffocating walls of the temple that seemed to be closing in on you more and more each day.

You're not sure if it was your sense of justice or just a lack of self preservation that prompted you, but you decided to thank the demon properly after what he did. You would have died in a truly horrific way if he hadn't found you before the vampire that laid that trap. You don't know much about vampires, but you know they feed on blood and drain any living thing they can find. You would thank the demon on your knees for saving you from that fate if you had to.

Of course your judgment wasn't completely clouded after a singular act of kindness. Part of the reason you want to thank him is that you don't want to owe the demon anything. There was also some hope he would answer some of your questions about the wards, it seems like he's the only one you can trust now.

The walk to the forest is done in almost half the usual time. With no flowers or berries to pick, you have no moment to spare and if you wanted to catch the demon you'd have to be there at the same time as before. This might have also been the first time you had walked past the first row of trees without stopping to look around and enjoy the silence and freedom only the woods could provide. You briefly hesitate before praying to the wards, and then walk in the direction of the stream.

You stare at the mark on the last tree just as you had done the last time you were here. Curiosity had led you ahead before but today you can only call this stupidity. You had no way of knowing the demon would be there. You also had no way of knowing any vampires or other monsters wouldn't be there. Still, you start walking beyond the wards again.

With every step to the clearing you had met the demon at, you questioned your decision more and more. There was no saying the creature wouldn't kill you just because he didn't before. He wasn't exactly friendly either but you reckon you were just judging him by human standards. Who are you to say he wasn't nice amongst demons? Somehow that didn't sound right.

You walk over to the same bushes you had stepped into the trap, feeling your stomach revolting at your choices. You had almost died in this spot. Looking down at the stream that started it all, you see it's barely running, still half frozen from the cold winter. You didn't even get the chance to watch it last time since you were preoccupied with the demon in front of you but, after what happened because of it, you didn't feel too excited to see it anymore.

Walking back to the clearing, you find a tree somewhat hidden and sit against it. Even with the undercurrent of fear moving through your body, you feel much better here, in between the trees, than at the temple. You never understood why they kept the walls so high around the land if they already had magical wards protecting them, the white walls just made everything look more detached from the world. You don't know why they won't let you leave either.

You let out a sigh and close your eyes, breathing in the scent of the forest still slightly damp from the rain a few days ago. The sun wasn't quite warm enough but at least the wind was quiet. You wanted to sit under the sun, your body was getting cold now that you stopped moving, but that would probably make you an even easier target. You really hoped the demon would be around.

After a while you felt the forest go quiet, the same way it did all those weeks ago. You opened your eyes and looked around until you saw a pair of red eyes watching you. You'd like to say you were less scared this time but seeing the demon made your body freeze up. He was watching you from the bushes, half hidden in his shadows. You wondered at that moment if they were to completely cover him, would you even be able to see him.

Willing yourself to move, you sit up straighter and push your palms against the floor, standing up to meet the demon across the clearing. But he beats you to it, taking careful steps to you. His face was as unreadable as always but there was a look you know was of curiosity in his eyes, and you were proud of yourself for being the reason for it. Your heart calms a bit.

You get a better look at him today and notice he wore the same leathers. You hope the Gods won't punish you but you can't help but think how beautiful he is. His face looks perfectly carved, as if someone took their time making sure it was flawless, and the scarlet eyes shine strikingly against his skin. You thought the blood red eyes were scary the last time you saw him, but now you think they definitely suit him. In fact, as scary as the black leather, huge wings and the cold mask on his face make him look, they suit him extremely well.

“Didn't learn your lesson, priestess?” It's like he could read your thoughts and decided to remind you he was a demon after all. The way he managed to speak to you with a hint of condescension and amusement but somehow not give away anything on his face made your blood boil a little. However, as annoying as it might be, it gives you something to focus on other than your fear.

“I came here looking for you.” His head tilts a little to the side and the confusion is clear on his once expressionless face. You suppose it makes sense. You aren't entirely sure why you'd do such a thing either, but it's too late to back down now. “You helped me and I wanted to thank you. I would have been dead if it weren't for you.”

“I don't care about that,” his face went back to his usual mask which only seemed colder with the bluntness in his tone. You deflated slightly and even the demon must have realized how cruel those words sounded because he continued speaking, “It's too dangerous for you beyond the wards. You shouldn't come here just to do that.”

“You helped me and I like to thank people properly for it. Especially when they save my life.” You almost want to pat yourself on the back for being able to maintain eye contact and a steady voice after what he said before. You knew better than him how dangerous this was, you were the one at risk after all, but this was important to you, even if you weren't sure why it mattered so much.

He was studying you so intensely you could almost see his brain working. Did he think this was a trap or something? Walking beyond the wards was a bit weird but you didn't think it was the reason for such surprise. It wasn't the first time after all.

“Do demons not thank each other? Is that not a thing in your world or something?” You should have just taken his bland response and gone back the way you came from but, for some reason, you wanted to keep talking to the demon and to have him accept your gratitude.

“Of course we do.” He almost sounded defensive, like it was an obvious fact. You had never talked to a demon before, you're actually not completely sure you didn't actually die that day and are just dreaming all of this up and demons don't exactly have a good reputation, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to think they have different customs either.

“Then you don't need to look so surprised,” you try to sound nonchalant but you can barely speak louder than a whisper or stop fidgeting, you've never been so keenly aware of your every movement. Even knowing the demon might not kill you, he's still tremendously intimidating. And, well, still a demon. “It's just a thank you.”

“You're thanking a demon,” he reminds you, as if the red eyes and giant wings sprouting from his back weren't a dead giveaway. You cross your arms, trying to defend yourself from the cold as well as his inquisitive gaze. He was looking at you like he could figure out your darkest secrets if he stared long enough and you weren't sure if he wasn't capable of it.

“I know,” you offered, “It's not something I ever thought I'd do either. Believe me.” You had been questioning your own sanity before but having the demon do it too makes you turn a little defensive.

He eyes you for a few more moments and then one of the corners of his mouth quirks up almost seamlessly. It seems he found the answer he was looking for. The demon walked a little closer to you, you suspect to test the waters and see how you'd react. You try to tell your body not to tense up, too much at least, but you know he can still detect the fear and apprehension in your body language.

“Did you come all the way from the temple to thank me?” Now that he's closer you realize the top of your head barely reaches his chest. You have to look up at him almost the same way you'd have to look up at a tree.

“No, I come to the forest every month.” You didn't want him to think that you came all this way just for this but deep down you know that, if the temple let you go out whenever you wanted, you would have come here sooner just to talk to him. “I simply walked a little further to thank you.”

“The forest is dangerous for humans.” Maybe you can't blame him too much for thinking you're a reckless idiot given how you met but it's still annoying.

“That's why I stay inside the wards.” The look he gives you tells you what he's thinking immediately. “Last time was an exception. I heard the creek and wanted to see it,” your cheeks warm slightly as you explain it, embarrassed that you almost lost your life over something so trivial, “I'd never seen one before since I'm not allowed to leave the temple.”

“You're not allowed to leave at all?” You're starting to think his face only knows the usual blank expression or this look of confusion.

“No,” you tilt your head slightly, “I'm a priestess.” Demons definitely don't have those.

“A lot of priestesses can leave their temples if they wish to. Some don't even live there,” he tells you matter-of-factly, like he expected you to know this.

“And you're an expert on how human temples work?”

“It looks like I know more than you.” The fact that he wasn't even trying to be condescending as he said this almost makes you want to scream out in anger. He's just stating a fact. The sky is blue, the trees are green and you don't know anything outside of the temple walls.

“Before you left,” you hesitate for a second, not sure if you're ready for this conversation, “You said the wards didn't work on demons” He just nods once. You both saw him take you to the stones, inside the wards, with no issues so it was a pointless question really. “Can other monsters walk through them? Were the wards always made to only stop other creatures? Why would the Gods do that? As nasty as the other monsters are, demons are a lot more dangerous. That much I know.”

Everything you've been holding in for the past months is trying to come to the surface. It looks like he doesn't want to answer your questions though. He's just studying your face with that irritating look on his face again. Why would he be hesitating when you're the one who has so much to lose?

“You can't expect me to find out about all this and not have more questions.” You try to level your tone, reminding yourself that you're talking to a demon you barely know and that it's not really his fault you don't know anything about this world. “It's not like I'm going to tell anyone, and if I did they'd just kill me and solve the problem for you anyway.”

He doesn't start speaking immediately, letting his shadows move over him until one hovered over his ear. It almost looks like it's talking to him, you wonder if that is even possible but you have no idea how magic works, you've seen him disappear in one place and show up in the other in a matter of seconds after all.

“Some things are better left unknown.” You can't help the glare on your face, but it seems like he doesn't pay it any mind as he continues, “Don't bite off more than you can chew, little priestess.”

“Can you not call me that?” One thing the other priestesses were definitely right about is that demons can lure you to do things you never would otherwise. You've never been this annoyed in your life, if fear didn't ground you, you couldn't be held responsible for your actions. “I have a name.”

“Giving your name to a demon can be a very dangerous thing,” that terrifying, self-confident smirk was back, “Have they not taught you anything at your little temple?” They had. Giving your name to any creature, especially a demon, could mean letting them have power over you. No one truly knows what they could even do with it but you'd rather not find out. The thing is: you're almost certain this demon won't hurt you, name or no name.

“You've already crossed that line so it might be better for you to know.” Some of the amusement lingered on his face, not at the fact that you didn't know anything but because you wanted to know more, despite your teachings and his warnings. “Demons are the only creatures that can go through the wards, everything else wouldn't even be able to get near them. There probably wouldn't be any humans left if they could.” You had been right then. But this is just leaving you with more questions. “The wards were always only meant to protect the humans from less powerful monsters. As to why… The Gods didn't create those wards.”

“That's impossible. No human could take those stones and carve them out like that.” Not to mention the magic needed to actually create the wards around them.

“I didn't say it was a human.” You search his face. He can't be implying…

“What do you mean?” You ask knowing the answer but needing to hear it from his mouth.

“This happened a long time ago so there's not much information left but it seems like a human king managed to strike a bargain with a very powerful demon a long time ago. Bargains are unbreakable after they're accepted. The human asked for the demon to protect them from the monsters and the demon became the first demon lord possibly through making them.”

“Were the Gods even real?” You didn't know what to believe or think at this point. Every word that comes out of the demon's mouth chips a little more at your reality. If you choose to believe the demon then nothing you were ever told is true. The worst part is it's not a choice. You know the demon is not lying.

“Yes. Some might even still be alive but even demons don't know much about them. They lived before us. It is thought that They helped humans a long time ago, some even say They were the ones who taught the human king to make the bargain.”

You stay quiet for a while, trying to digest all this new information. The temple was built to honor The Gods who created the wards, who protect the humans from these vicious creatures. Were all the prayers even worth it? Was living inside those walls to honor them worth it? Have you been wasting your life this whole time?

From what he told you there might not even be any Gods left. You never thought death was possible for them. Even if They are out there… It was a demon that created the wards, despite being at the king's order and with possible ulterior motives, the first demon lord was the one who created the wards protecting you. Should the temples be in honor of him instead? That's almost laughable. The thing keeping you safe was created by someone who probably wouldn't think twice about eradicating your entire race. Or maybe he wouldn't. The demon said it was because of a bargain, whatever that means, but the demon lord couldn't have been too opposed to it.

Could the Elders at the temple know about this? They have rooms full of ancient books and are revered for their knowledge. And if they do… What else could they be lying to you about? Gods, you don't know what to think anymore. Your brain feels like it's going to melt.

“Shouldn't you be going back to the temple by now?” The demon looked like he wasn't sure what to do with you, this is probably the first time he's had to deal with a human having a severe mental breakdown.

You look to the sky, seeing how much darker it already was. It seems you were lost in your thoughts for a long time, you had even sat back down against the tree without noticing. Looking up at him, you try to use his presence to ground you into the moment, like an anchor against your flowing thoughts. If you don't show up at the temple soon the priestesses will have questions, they were already suspicious after the last time.

“Can you take me like you did the last time?” Walking back all the way is out of question. You would never make it back before nightfall.

“Already asking me for favors? Those come at a price where I come from.” The expression on his face is less taunting and more teasing now, and, if you weren't already having trouble processing so much, you'd realize that the demon might be trying to make you feel better in his own way, if only so you stop shaking in front of him.

“Please,” you hate how soft your voice came out, it was just a hair short of begging, but you find, after finding out about all this, you're even more scared of what the temple could do if you were late. You keep talking, not wanting to sound so weak in front of such a powerful creature, “You said a dead priestess in the forest would only bring you trouble, right?”

The demon ends up agreeing with a lot less effort than you thought - it seems using this kind of magic is routine for him - and, faster than you could blink, you were covered in those mysterious shadows and back inside the wards, right at the tree line. He must have sensed your urgency to get back because he brought you even further than last time.

You turn to thank him again but he was already half covered in shadows, ready to leave you behind. For some reason you feel your heart twist at the thought.

“You're just going to leave?” You can't help but blurt out. The way he tilts his head a bit in confusion is the only sign you're given that he heard you at first but, after a few moments of staring at each other, he finally speaks up.

“We're here. You said you were late."

“You can at least warn me before leaving. A goodbye would be preferable,” you hike up your skirt and start walking backwards, “You need to work on your manners.” You give him what you hope is a teasing grin, though you can feel it lacks strength considering the state of your mind at the moment, and turn around, leaving him behind this time. You did, however, catch a glimpse of the small smile playing at his lips. You carried that smile with you all the way to the temple even through your racing thoughts.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #divider by saradika

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gav-san · 7 months

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A Vintage Bouquet | 1/5 | Mihawk x reader

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk / Fem Reader

Length: 1/5 Chapters

Summary: Trapped in a monastery and threatened with an impending marriage, you'll strike any deal with a Pirate to escape what your father has in store for you.

“What a treat, for a great warlord of the sea to come to our island.”

Mihawk didn’t remove his feet from the table, barely even bothering to blink at the approach of the voice. Its owner, Rear-Admiral Jacobson, was the insipid leader of the Marine Outpost here, a dull man fitting of the dull backwater.

“It’s truly an honor to host you.” The marine said, taking out a chair to join him, much to his irritation.

“Charmed,” Mihawk replied dryly, barely acknowledging the large man in the marine uniform. “I’m sure.”

The rear admiral laughed, taking a seat on the bar left of the famed swordsman. He didn’t sit too close, clearly aware he was unwelcome, but not scared off

“I don’t mean to overstep, Hawk Eyes, but I’m shocked to see you here. The West Blue has been very quiet on the pirate front, and less so on any budding warriors. Illa de Palma is paradise for us here.”

Mihawk tilted his head.

He could outright refuse to chat with Jacobson, but it would likely be detrimental. Mihawk was no fan of bright sunlight and the thick humidity on Palma but he did find their wine to be pasable. Insulting the owner of the best vineyard on the island wasn’t going to get him his shipment, or any future ones on any island, knowing the way the wine-masters held grudges.

With a sigh, knowing he wasn’t getting off without revealing a little info, he acquiesced.

“It isn’t nearly that complicated. I was headed this way and was followed. Since there or no decent vineyards between here and the Grand Line, I thought I may find something interesting.” The swordsman said, raising a glass of dark liquid, and swishing it. “I have yet to decide if it was worth the diversion.”

The rear-admiral Jacobson perked a brow.

“I’d say so, but since it’s my wine, I have a stake in your opinion.”

Mihawk took a measured look, before taking a short drink of the wine, before looking back.

“It’s not terrible.”

The Rear Admiral laughed.

“That’s high praise. I’m not sure anything could please your stiff palette, other than the best.”

Mihawk took another sip, letting the liquid run across his tongue.

“It’ll do, I suppose.” He said, putting it down. “It doesn’t seem like your little island is very interesting otherwise.” The rear admiral Jacobson smiled at the swordsman.

“Interesting? Perhaps not for a man of your caliber, but for me, it’s been divine. We export the best wine and women!”

Mihawk tilted his chin.

“The monastery girls,” Jacobson added, with a wink. “The nobles send their daughters here to learn how to be good wives. Makes the entire island a pretty penny, and we get to see pretty women.”

“How quaint,” Mihawk responded with little care.

Jacobson leaned in as if he expected a juicy bit of gossip, and Mihawk raised his glass again.

“Oh, don’t be so closed-mouth! I know you came in with that fancy noble who has his eyes on our girls! Tell me if it’s true that he wants to take our sweet, lovely island beauty. I speak, of course, of Ms. Gabriella!”

Jacobson named a woman's first name that Mihawk prompted recognized and ignored. The swordsman gave a sound that was similar to a snort, though he was too elegant to do so outright. He was tempted to immediately leave hearing that name again. After having to listen to that incessant noble who decided to follow him, he could live a very long life and not have to hear it again.

“This conversation turns tedious,” Mihawk replied, “Such things hold little interest for me.”

“Always the swordsman, dedicated to your craft.” The rear-admiral joked, much to Mihawk's great annoyance at the familiarity. “For a former pirate, you have always been quite dedicated, much like those nobles.”

“I’m a pirate, not a savage.” The pirate scoffed, lowering the wine onto the bar with a clink. He rose, moving to leave before he had to hear any more nonsense. “The wine is astringent. Hardly worth a visit.”

The Rear Admiral gaffed, scooting his chair so the swordsman could pass.

“You should pass by the monastery. They had the best wine on the island.” Jacobson said, raising the glass to take a long sniff. “They always purchase our best for their private sacrament.”

Mihawk raised a hand, not bothering to give a reply.

He was not much inclined to take the word of someone who touted such fine taste and failed to live up to the expectations, but he had run low and disliked the idea of setting off without a fresh crate.

He learned against a pier, next to his boat, listening in to the local fishermen passing, morning still fresh. Villagers only give him half a glance and Marines kept a wide distance, more familiar with his old Wanted Poster.

He had learned early in life that the best way to discover the best wine was to listen to the townspeople. And though he wasn’t much inclined to speak, he had found his fair share of bounties simply being near.

But he did raise a brow at the topic of today’s rumor mill.

It was the name.

The name of the girl, at the monastery. Ms. Something Gabriella. It seemed that this girl was of some importance in the town, her name was like a buzzing fly in his ear.

Gabriella Gabriella Gabriella

What was that first name?

Ah yes.

Ms (name) Gabriella.

After putting the two together he pressed his lips together.

The last name alone was popular enough that he hadn’t thought much when people shouted praises about the girl. However, the first name was unique enough that it did cause a memory of something to resurface.

Isabella Gabriella.

An old pirate captain, who enjoyed daggers. He wondered if there was any relation between the girl and the pirate swordswoman he had known long ago, who had been a fearsome foe indeed when he was a young man.

She often bragged about her precious little daughter, who had the same name as this monastery girl.

He glanced at the Monastery, turning. Well, he supposed it wouldn’t be that big of a detour.

Perhaps even bearable if there was good wine.

-XXX-

The white sheets fluttered in the cool sea breeze that the evening on the coast had brought, the crisp breeze ridding it of the last wrinkles and folds. Careful fingers folded the fabric into a sharp square, placing it in the large wicker basket next to the laundry before you turned to the last row of hanging sheets.

You couldn’t help stop your eyes from wandering past the tall stone wall of the Nunnery Annex and gazing down the hill where the shimmering white of Ciudad Blanca lay, flaunting its beauty to all who came across the Isla de Palma.

You could appreciate the artistry that had gone into the white facade of the rich town, as you had once been part of something.

You blinked, hearing your name.

Ms. Gabriella.

Calls of it came from those passing, able to see through the cutouts in the wall, making you feel akin to a goldfish in a too-small bowl.

The monastery walls had been built less for the comfort of those inhabiting it but as a symbol of its wealthy patrons. It was a very popular destination on Isla Palma, and though you preferred cloistering herself away in the depths of the monastery, you had watched those visitors with a melancholy stirring in your heart.

Adventurous, free, people.

Located in the West Blue, the beautiful city saw more than its fair share of seafaring wanderers, an almost alarming toss-up of Marines and merchants. You heard more than you saw, as enough seemed to fear the Gods that they would visit, climbing the stairs to reach the tall white building.

And, inevitably, some of those travelers were almost certainly pirates masquerading as sailors.

And despite your hair being tightly pulled back into a strict bun, secured by coif and wimple, under the black veil, it did little to hide your lovely face and sparkling eyes, as bright as the lights dancing off the warm ocean.

And others noticed, as well.

When you were on rotation for laundry or any other tasks outside the monastery walls you would be cat-called, harassed, or confronted by angry women.

you tended, hiding yourself behind the last youets, folding as quickly as you could.

You weren’t surprised at the rough-looking travelers who called as you trod behind the Abbess, as you greatly suspected they were pirates. But the number of Marines who would leer at you and the other sisters was downright horrible.

You whipped another sheet off the laundry and winced when you heard a rip.

Damn.

Mother Superior would be greatly displeased with her, as she already thought you taking the food and space that so many other young females would be grateful for.

A good marriage, the Mother Superior had often told you, was something a face like yours should aspire to. It was one of the Abbotess’s many ways of letting you know that time was ticking for her, and if you could not find a proper husband, you’d be found one.

Choose, you foolish girl, choose!

Countless men had been offered to her, but the photos and love letters blurred before your eyes as panic caused your stomach to heave.

Your entire body reacted to the notion of marriage, shoulders squaring and knees locking as you attempted not to drop to your knees.

You felt a drop of sweat run down your shoulder at the thought of accepting one of the many proposals coming through the Monastery letterbox. Many wealthy men came to the island, but few were good. Less who had all their teeth, and had the resources to afford a bride dowry for her.

And those acceptable were almost exactly like father.

Your father, a name not earned but given regardless, was a noble living in the holy city of Mary Genoese, bathing in wealth and privilege. you hadn’t seen him in years. He saw you more as a prize swan than flesh and blood, and the only reason you heard from him was when he reminded you of your duty to marry, mainly through very unpleasant Den Den Mushi calls via snail.

And his latest he hasn’t held back, letting you know that whoever you accepted, expected to receive a generous offering for her.

The Mother Superior had a vice-like grip on your arm, keeping you in check.

Of course, you agreed.

A record number of Berry would go on to continue running the monastery with your success. That was the whole reason girls like you were boarded and raised by nuns.

But your worth was ticking down if you passed into your thirties without choosing.

The town bell rang, counting down your hours.

You wanted to pull the entire line of laundry down, angry at everything. Your life hadn’t started as a plot to turn into a breeding cow!

Your mother had been an adventurous, independently wealthy captain before wedding father. He had promised her a similar lifestyle after getting hitched, just adding his fine title as a nobleman with a residence in the Holy City.

And so you were a child who had worn only the finest dresses, even when running through the swelling ocean waves, hair perfectly coiffed even as you lay to sleep.

Maids regularly pampered her, and the best tutors engaged her mind. You voraciously read books and loved your father for generously giving you so many. Many afternoons had been spent aboard your mother's ship, set up in a hammock reading romance and eating the finest sweets, and even tasting the fine wine they sailed around delivering.

Your mother's crew was mostly retired marines and had generously taught you all about the wine trade as if you were their child. Your mother taught you more than a few tricks with her daggers, though you preferred the feel of a sword.

Your mother had made you hide this when you visited your father. He had, over time become more and more vocal about his dislike of sea life, how women didn’t suit it, especially concerning you in particular.

You had, deep down, had a feeling that something had gone sour in him.

It had probably not helped that over time, your mother had taken on the lion's share of raising you, and your noble father had mostly enjoyed staying at home, raking in his wife's wealth and attention with far too much free time on his hands. They spent more time away than together, and soon, it was clear divorce would be imminent.

On your sixteenth birthday, your mother, her ship, and the entire crew were shot down by pirates and murdered.

You had miraculously been on a rare vacation with your father. He had praised the heavens for such good fortune but you deeply grieved, unable to find any value in your life compared to your mothers.

You weren’t even half the woman she was, in any respect, and now she was gone, you saw just how strong she had been to counter a man like your father.

Father wasted no time introducing the newest addition to his collection. And you meant that as a plural since it wasn’t a day after your mother’s passing that you discovered your mother was just one of four wives that your father secretly had. He went around town, touting how you were to be sold off in a similar manner.

You were determined to cut ties, your anger roused at such a callous insult, but before you could touch a penny of your inheritance he locked it away, then he locked you away, per the flexible arm of his noble title.

Your entire future shifted, and any chance at a seafaring life was gone. And it took less than a day for that to be made clear.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

You paused, hands loosening before you tore another bed sheet, focusing to take another deep breath.

Taking out your anger here would not give you back what you had lost. You would only receive toilet cleaning duties for the next month if you didn’t control yourself.

But every day, anger cinched your middle tighter, and inevitably, those invisible stays would break, or simply cut you in two.

Breathe, you reminded herself.

“Ms Gabriella, my beloved!!” Another voice called behind your back, and you scrunched your brows together. It was close. A cold shiver danced down your spine.

Heffery Jones.

“Lovely Sweet thing!”

You recognized that drunk voice and your brows furrowed. What a terrible day, you decided. While most of your well-wishers managed to control themselves and not climb the nunnery, this voice was coming too close to her.

You flinched, turning at the figure who was half dangling over the brick, waving too enthusiastically your way.

One of the somewhat poor townsmen, a very young fellow with brown hair and yellowing teeth grinned at your lost expression.

And very drunk.

“My love, why haven’t you responded to my proposal?” He cried out to you, still struggling on the balustrade.

“Go home Heffery, your wife works too hard for you to waste it on drinks.” you retorted, your tone flat. You didn’t have the time to state all of your reasons, but that was a start.

Not that it worked.

“Darling, let’s run away and go sail the sea together! My wife means nothing!” He cried, wiggling to try and get over the sharp spikes.

You actually liked Mary Jones and feel sorry you had married Heffery. But it was arranged, like most marriages in town. You were sure the only reason Mary Jones hadn’t run off was her children, who all looked suspiciously like your neighbor, rather than her husband.

You readied herself, grabbing the laundry basket, in case you needed to throw it at him.

“Heffery Jones, don’t you dare!” The voice of the Mother Superior rang out, startling both of them.

You, for once, were flooded with relief as you heard her call out from one of the many windows. Even if it meant a lecture later, of why you had been the problem. For now, Heffery could take the tongue-lashing of the older woman, for however long it took him to realize he needed to run.

The Abbot didn’t hold much power in the monastery, but he had a den den mushi phone and paid off the local marines for problems like this.

But Heffery Jones wasn’t known for his intelligence or listening ability, and he attempted to jump over the brick. Even the solid shoe you threw aimed at his face didn’t change his mind.

He still attempted to jump.

And this was only an attempt as he inadvertently sacrificed his fancy waistcoat on a lantern pedestal and flung himself back the other way, into the road. Your shoe met with a satisfying thump and fell to the ground on the other side.

You heard the alarm of the local church regulars and the dismay of drunk sailor men who had followed Heffery from his bar to egg him on, as well as the distant thuds of Heffery rolling down the hill, probably straight back into the bar he had come from.

So you waved goodbye, cheekily.

Mother Superior burst through the side door, just as you finished folding the laundry, hiding ripped sheet at the bottom of the pile.

“That disgusting man! And you, you! Must you flaunt yourself? If you wish to be seen, hurry up and choose a respectable suitor!”

you knew better than to argue, simply apologizing. Thankfully you weren’t forced to grovel for long, as the Abbot flew through the door, bouncing back from the Mother Superior's large girth.

“He is coming!” He cried, falling into a tumble of robes.

“Great Heavens!” The nun said in tandem, as Abbot cried out his news. “I already chased the Jones boy off!”

A nun followed the father, picking him up from the ground, and the old man wasted no time delivering his news to both of them.

“Not the boy, Mother!” He said with a flourish, slipping around her.

The Abbot grabbed your hands, gleefully.

“Your fiancé! He has been chosen! And he’ll be accompanied by a Warlord of the sea!” your mouth fell open, but you stopped herself by biting her lip.

“Pardon?” you croaked.

Mother Superior cackled in thanksgiving, holding up her hands in praise to the sky.

“He can afford a Warlord?!? He’s clearly rich and powerful enough to pay for an entire new section of the building!” Mother Superior cried out, picking up the Abbot and spinning him.

The man cried out in alarm, but you felt like you had been the one being spun. you knew the time had been ticking down, but your father had promised your mother, in a written will, that you would be able to choose your husband!

You stepped back, breath getting heavy. The Abbot and the Mother Superior danced around one another, leaving you the chance to dash away, trying your best not to hyperventilate. You flung yourself around the corner fleeing the wide courtyard to the smaller citrus grove.

Others disliked the mushy ground, laden with rotting oranges, and so you often found respite there.

There on the bench, you raised your lone barefoot to look at the consequences of a very impulsive throw. Not that it hadn’t been deserved, but now you’d have to go beg the gate guard to fetch it for you.

Or…

You glanced at the old, bolted side gate in the wall behind the last tree.

If you dare, you could unlock it, dart out, and get it herself. You questioned if it was worth potentially being discovered, but if you were quick, and only to avoid unnecessary drama, it very well might be. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear you sighed, agreeing it was certainly a bad day.

This inner debate was cut short when you heard a thud, near the gate.

You jumped up, startled, head snapping over.

A shiver ran down your spine at what you had found.

A shoe.

Your shoe.

There, in a space bare of any fallen oranges, lay your shoe.

You dash to the gate, from where the shoe almost certainly came, thrusting your head out of the small space on the top. And you only caught your beneficiary as they turned the corner, the edge of a dark coat.

And you were unsure why such a small glimpse of a simple kind of action made your stomach erupt in butterflies.

You turned, ready to call out to the person, or something.

“Girl!”

You jumped back, throwing on your shoe just as Mother Superior turned the corner and found you.

“Quit hiding around, it’s time to get ready! Your father wishes to speak with you!”

-XXX-

If there was anything that could make this day worse, it was getting a call from your father. The den den mushi for the convent was not only slow, but your father had become unbearable.

The snail did a great job conveying his disregard for you.

“Do us both a favor, you, and be on your best behavior.”

“Father-” you began, only to be sharply cut off.

“-While you may not want to be married, you, but there’s no other respectable path for your future. I promise there are much worse suitors who are interested, who wouldn’t care much for your consent.”

“-Father-”

“Pirates, even.”

You froze.

“Be a good girl, my dear. I mean, anything is better than one of those Doflamingo boys. I’ve heard that Donquixote is little better than a brute. He’s been looking for a noble bride and has the money. He had no real title, since that debacle, and has been calling me up incessantly.”

Surely your father wouldn’t be cruel enough to consider that? you didn’t dare call his bluff, only to be proven wrong. you had heard plenty about the fallen noble Doflamingos, and you knew that your father was no longer joking. If you pressed him, then he’d make it worse for you.

“You’ll be a darling, won’t you, my dear? Go make pretty eyes at that nice new fiance and make sure you walk away with a ring.”

…

“Yes… father.”

-XXX-

You sat in the citrus grove, finally alone. It was chilly, being outside well into the night with only a shawl, still wearing the day dress.

Fingers clenched in the fine, high-waisted cotton dress, simple but well made. It had been the only nice dress you possessed, but had still needed a quick fitting since you had lost weight as time slipped on. Dainty slippers pinched at your toes, clearly borrowed from someone who had smaller feet.

Your hair had been groomed till it shone, left mostly up twisted into a pretty pearl netting to keep your face clear of any strays. Even makeup had been acquired.

Not even a week had passed, but you already met your new finacé.

And it had been what you expected. You had hoped that it wouldn’t be an extended meeting with the Noble fiancé because alas, no good were wishes anymore. Ronald W. Canonfire the Fourth was a long-winded, much older man looking for a pretty third wife, just to liven things up, since his other two were getting so old. And he disliked their ‘worn’ bodies since they had had almost twenty children between them.

You grit your teeth and played dumb.

Though you had been engaged, a first meeting tended to be shorter, by tradition. It was mostly to assure the buyer that the bride was as had been showcased to be. And if he approved, which he probably would, the wedding would proceed. And your next meeting with him would be the day you would go down the aisle.

Good Lord.

You couldn’t live that way.

No-

You wouldn’t.

You took in a deep breath, your chest heaving. Surely, this was not going to be the way your life went. Whatever it took, you would not be going down that aisle. You could secretly take the vows, or maybe even slip away, and find work on the docks disguised. Or stowaway!

Anything.

Anything, but this life.

So you stood, unsure of what path you were going to take, only sure that you had to take it.

And to hear a lock break.

The door on the side of the monastery creaked open.

You whip your head around, confident someone has somehow read your thoughts.And your chest nearly seizes as you brace yourself for whatever is coming.

The first thing you saw, from the deep shadows of the doorway, were well-oiled boots. Followed by dark pants, a rich black coat, and a sleek hat with a feather. A cutting figure, to say the least. His scandalous lack of a shirt was not missed, nor were the cut muscles that gleamed pristine white.

You take a step back, thinking you should probably call out for help, but are unable to find the words.

There is something downright transfixing about this man, and it’s not just the way his muscles cut down to the downright sinful apex of his pants.

He’s older, but not much.

Your mouth goes dry.

“Are you going to throw your shoe again?” He has a mild tone, almost bored. “Or should I wait?”

“You-” You mutter in fascination. “You are the man who threw back my shoe.”

He steps through, letting the gate swing close behind him.

“Why are you here?” You ask, perplexed. You might be afraid, but he looks so disinterested that you can’t help but feel a bit calm.

“Are you going to throw it at me this time?” He asks again, a sharp brow raising.

Heck, the man’s entire face was sharp, accentuated by well-groomed facial hair, and generous lashes, held together by a severe expression.

His unmissable eyes must have seen your first, for when your gaze reached his face, he was already looking at her.

Startled, you realized they were gold. Gold, and almost alien in appearance. All of these things were eye-catching and startling.

And for a moment, both stared.

But that’s not what you gazed at with an abrupt interest.

Just as he stepped into full view of the single lantern overhead, the light danced off the large metal cross on the man’s back, giving you a view of what must be the largest sword you’ve ever seen.

“Is that a kriegsmesser?” You said before you could stop yourself. “It’s enormous.”

You swear at yourself, as a reminder that the last thing you need to do is start fangirling over weapons, lest you encourage the intruder to use his own. And for it to come out like you is an innuendo.

It truly was a long, horrible day, if this was your best manners.

One of the man’s brows lifted, followed by a slight down curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Yoru.” He answered, and you blinked. “Is hardly so simple as a mere Kriegsmesser. She may be my largest sword, but I’m effective with all I equipt.”

Your mouth tilted in a smile, glee filling your chest, before you managed to clear your throat at his sly joke. Suddenly you were ten again, on the deck of the ‘Sweet Joy’ and practicing your footwork.

“Yoru,” You repeated, subtly swaying the motions you’d use with such a sword. It sounded familiar, though it had been ten years since you had read anything about swords. “May I see her?” You ask, forgoing all manners, like a bar whore.

This time, the man actually gave a smile, though it was very subtle.

“It’s not for taming bunnies.” He said, coming a step closer, and glancing down at your feet.

“Lend me your blade and we can test that theory.” You retort sharply, much to his amusement, the way he leans forward.

“I hardly here for a fight with a nun.” He said with a drawl, his tone mildly amused.

“I am not a nun.” He waved a hand like it made little difference. “Why did you come?” you said cooly, moving to put the bench between you. You hoped he was here to take you hostage, but you couldn’t make it seem easy, and give yourself away.

The man sighed, giving you a long look as if he could read your mind.

“Don’t kid yourself. I heard there’s good wine here.” The man replied, leaning against the door of the outer wall

You blinked.

“I guess.” you said, “But this isn’t exactly a store.”

“Understood,” He said wryly.

“And the Abbot will also be asleep by now, even for a distinguished gentleman yourself.” You fold your arms.

“Hense the sidegate.” He tilted his fancy hat to the broken side door.

“Rude.” You reply. “I should scream.” You wave a hand.

He moves so quickly you don’t see him place a finger on your mouth until it’s there.

“Perhaps we can come to an accord.” The man said, and you stepped back, slapping the hand away.

“Perhaps, for the right price.” you gave him a long look. “Do you own a boat?”

The man lowered his chin, giving you a hard stare that you struggled to keep, and only did so since your entire life was on the line.

A nod and you assumed that meant yes.

“I need passage off this island. And quickly,” You muttered, lowering your voice and stepping closer. He sighed as if you had asked him to pluck the moon out of the sky.

“Oh? Now why would I ever do that? Even good wine isn’t worth a private ride on my boat.” He said, tone flat.

“The wine is the best on the island. A vintage from my mother’s last shipment.” You bartered, standing your ground. “My word is good. I have my sommelier certification, and still have an active registration in the Vineyard Guild. I know wine.”

The swordsman looked you down steadily with his gold eyes.

“What’s your mother’s name?” He said, moving to the bench to sit before you, one leg elegantly flung over the other.

“Isabella Gabriella, the captain of the-”

“The wine merchant and you’re her daughter?” You wonder if you should be offended by the long look he gives you, but for some reason it fills you with butterflies, to be seen so thoroughly.

“You knew my mother?”

“Very well, girl. You’ve piqued my interest. Let’s make a deal.” He lifts a hand, gesturing to the monestary.

“I require two crates of wine for your passage to the next island.” He says, and you look at him harshly.

“This wine is worth at least a trip to the Grand Line.” You counter, fingers clenching your arms.

“Now why would a bunny like you want to go to the Grand Line? Surely you don’t think well-bred girls such as yourself are better off there than here?”

“If wine isn’t enough, then I’ll fight you for the honor of riding on your boat. If only to prove to you I can handle myself. ”

“Fight? You, a little bunny?” He said, this time you knew you had amused him, by the way the corners of his mouth raised.

“I doubt I could defeat you, swordsman, but I’m not a girl. But if I can land even a single blow, would that impress you?”

“Very well.” He said, folding his arms. “This is hardly an appropriate venue. When an opportunity arrives, we’ll see what you’re made of.”

You lower your arms, placing your hands flat against your dress. Better for him to underestimate you now.

“Fine. When and where?”

The man stood, turning to the gate, practically making you follow him out.

“It bores me to wait, so be by the docks to my ship by next nightfall. And only come if you manage to get the wine, girl.”

“I’m not a girl.” You say, and then clearly annunciate your name, but the man just walks down the cobblestone road, away from you. “What’s your name?” You call out, brows furrowed, arms holding the door to not clang.

“Dracule.”

He doesn’t look back.

And as you swiftly go back into the monastery, already planning your escape, you can’t help but get the notion that you’ve heard that name before.

#fanfic #romance #op #onepiece #one piece #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #If you have the imagination #it’s just fanfic folks

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granolawriting · 7 months

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hi can you do sith anakin x reader (reader has healing powers but no one knows it she is both fascinated and scared of anakin and watches him secretly (he senses it) everytime he walks in front of her etc) reader is maid and she is amazed by story of kybers and lightsaber. So one time her duty is hanging his robes so she goes to his room scaredly but after getting her job done she realizes his lightsaber is there so she cant help but examine, touch his lightsaber but he senses it and suddenly behind her after that idk yandere stuff happens and when he touches her he senses her healing powers so chooses her as his personal maid and makes her massage his temples everynight for headache, a bond starts to form between them

A/N: This is usually the kind of specificity I like to keep commissions for, but regardless I enjoyed trying out the scene building based on your suggestion! I appreciate your request :) I hope you enjoy <3

pairing: Sith!Anakin x reader

content warning: brief choking, power dynamic

word count: 3.2k

Your eyes watched him go by. Black enveloped by more black, a wave of terror rushes over you at the sight of his path. His robes define evermore the intimidation wishing to be imbued within his subjects as his path is blazed with red. Though with careful luck, you found yourself his maid. Or well, one of many. There was a great deal of women tasked with the upkeep of the empire, and so very often his own dwelling. But that was incredibly rare. No one was allowed so close to him, and especially to you all he was was but a mystery.

You trace his body as it walks past you, watching as yellow eyes and the brood of a Greek tragedy coat his face peppered with strands of brown hair that fell to his lower neck. Though your eyes linger upon his waist, a specific item that never fails to catch your whimsy is the handle to the blade no one but him ever held anymore.

Order 66.

You remember watching that transpire. Though you were quite young, you remember the Jedi. You remember their blades, how they were formed, the kybers harvested from far-off planets and infused into specialized sheaths that harbored great power divinely intertwined with its wielder. When you were young you envied the force, yearned for it to grace you with it's presence though as you grew older and more practical, you settled for an infatuation with the lightsaber's story. And with your master, boss if you will, being the only one left with such a sight, it oftentimes shed from your mind that insurmountable fear of him, to one of fascination and wonder. What was his story?

That's a question no one knew, and no one ever would know.

Fear washes over you. Immanent, impending doom. You slowly gaze up from where you allowed your eyes to wander for many moments too long, to find the eyes of Anakin staring back at you. FUCK.

…

The silence is more petrifying than the words he could say. The fear of not knowing overtook the fear of what he was going to do and he knew that. However, after a moment longer, he left without a word. A clacking of heel against freshly cleaned tile slowly drifting off into another corridor as you are left with a heart rate that could kill. Your breath levels after a few more moments of silence enveloping you, an empty room, and a myriad of assumptions to be made. But regardless, your mind still sits on the sway of the saber along his belt. Its complexity still entices you as much as it ever has.

------------

“You wish me to, drop these in his room?”

Held within your hands are the robes that which Anakin wears on his daily excursions, often needing to be washed and repaired due to stains and wear; though the stench of blood could never quite leave it’s woven threads.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Oh no uh, not at all. I just didn't know that was within my realm of ability”

“Well, it is now. So do your job. And don't think we won't be making sure you don't do anything you’d regret.”

Stern eyes meet yours, for a droid that is. Your manager in a way, is a droid. A bit odd, but takes out the reasonability of a human to be compelled to go against code. This thing is more apt to kill you than anything else.

Though with little more convincing needed, you take the robes down the infamous corridor that seldom ever walked. You could feel the aura of his common passage seep from the metal beneath you as the hallway never seemed to end. Anxiety wells up in you as you approach its entrance.

This is where Anakin lives. Lord, Anakin.

A loud beep of a properly put-in keypad was what proceeded to a large hissing of the doors opening. You slowly enter within its realm, one slow foot over the other, scouring every area for possible life that you should undoubtedly be in fear of. Despite having a reason to be there, the intimidation lingers within every surface he’s touched, every glass held that lay on the coffee table, and undoubtedly the bed at which he sleeps that you stare at with eyes of awe. You saw Anakin for a moment, within this room. Not the Sith, but the man. You saw the empty glass of water next to his bed, the disheveled sheets that indicate a bed slept in, you see things left half open- the living of a person within these walls. Though one of the things you notice left open is his closet. Your destination is to be swiftly met and your activity finished. Before people start to question. You make your way into his closet, swiftly put his things where they belong, and exit his room.

However, something stops you. It catches your eye, the glint of it's metal reflects off the sun that shines through his windows and you stop where you are immediately.

His lightsaber.

Why it wasn't with him, is a mystery you hold with much contemplation but all sense is overriden being in such close proximity to the single weapon you’ve been infatuated with since you first laid eyes on it. It’s almost as though it calls to you, sings to you.

A head moving left and right, surveying its surroundings as you stand alone in this room does the desire grow too strong. Your hand outstretched, slow feet step closer to it. Until it's finally touched your fingers. The meer power exuding from it is never something you could have accounted for, but probably should have. A touch of fingers grows into a grip of fingers, and a grip upon it grows into both hands holding this item yearned for your entire life. You felt euphoric, this isn't something you thought you’d ever be able to feel, or experience. Eyes look down into its core and see the kybercrystal staring back at you, and with simple means, you find the blade ignited in a red beam of flame that relayed noise with every motion of it as you softly swung it in the open air. A smile coated on your face in a way you've never felt, joy so strong your face hurts from pure happiness.

This was very short-lived.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

your stomach drops as you hear a horrifyingly familiar voice sound behind you.

Anakin.

It's, you, didn't even hear him come in. It's as if he appeared. The blade drops from your hand, sheathing itself in the process so all that follows its loss of grip is the hard clank of metal greeting the hard tile of the floor where you stood.

Hurried, petrified voice that only sounded a means for survival as your mind stayed blank with terror;

“Oh please, god oh I'm so sorry I didn't mean to. Please sir don't hurt me plea-”

Without another word you are thrown against a wall, feeling the choke of his hands from feet away as he holds his arm out to signify the force used to harm you.

“Did you really not think I’d feel something like that? Do you know nothing, young girl? The moment you laid eyes on that thing it is as though you laid eyes upon me. Which I promise you I’ve noticed as well. Do you work for the rebels perhaps? Or are you just nosy?”

your hand grasps at an invisible hand across your throat, restricted air desperately escapes your body as you gasp for breath within his grasp. All you can muster is a “No”

“No what?”

Furrowed brows and rancor coating his yellow eyes, a scowl across his mouth as he tightens his grip upon your neck as a sadistic means to give you a thought that you may have a chance to actually explain yourself.

Though as your hands follow the lines of your neck, you feel the bruise forming around you heal. The strained vocal cords of a woman choked begin to grow well as you grace yourself with the one thing that’s made your world livable as of late. An attunement with life and death that has made you well-equipped to heal. You couldn't bring people back from the dead, but you could heal them from the brink of it. That included yourself, and though it's never been as useful as it is at this moment, it has saved you many times in the past. Especially others.

His eyes begin to show sight of confusion at the lack of intense struggle; a sterner look upon your face as you try to heal yourself with hands softly drawn across your neck, he quickly notices the wounds on you disappear as he creates them. He stops his tournament for but a moment, taken aback at the sight of such a thing. A thing he's never seen before, the ability to heal what was once broken with powers within only yourself.

“What do you think you're doing?”

You collapse to the ground, gasping for air but not nearly as much as you’d need to if it hadn't been for your healing. His voice is deep, laced with anger as his lesson on you didn't seem to reach it’s desired outcome, but regardless curiosity got the better of him as he truly desired an explanation for your ability.

“Sir please I-, I don't want to die. There's so much unfinished for me to do and I just-”

“That's not what I asked. How are you healed.”

You pause for a moment. Realizing that he noticed yet again what you try so hard to hide. Touching your neck ever so slightly you shift the direction of what you explain to him;

“This is, I can heal. That’s all that I can do sir. I don't do it too often, I don't know what it does. Or how I can do it, really.”

“Can it heal others?”

An opening. Your salvation.

“Yes! Yes. Yes, I can. Please, I'll heal whoever you need me to. Please just spare me.”

“Get out.”

You pray thanks and run as quickly as you can. As your feet hit the tile that separated the entrance of his dwelling and the corridor you were in just moments ago, it felt as if an eternity was spent within the confines of that room. Confronting him as he stood there ready to kill you. You have never felt so grateful in your whole life, that you were able to make your way free after all you did. After touching, even playing with his saber.

You touched his saber.

It hit you then. That you finally actualized something that you allowed overtake you in obsession-- something that meant an unfathomable amount to you, something you’d dreamed of your whole life. And you got away with it.

Desire overtook you, replaying those brief moments of freedom in your head over and over as you yearn for just another moment with it in your hands. Just a second more, the sound gracing your ears for just one more turn. But you couldn't. You barely saved yourself from his grasp the first time, there's no means to say he wouldn't do away with you if you ever tried something like that again. Like you could even get close again. You wouldn't be surprised if he just allowed a delay of the inevitable, that tomorrow morning there would be inquisitors at your door ready to whisk you away like they did any other rebel spy.

You needed to sleep. There's nothing productive out of the fear you held within yourself, and as you slowly lulled yourself into a slumber that coming night, all that filled your dreams were action and power wielded within the saber. The feeling of it in your hand, the way it weighed on you, the power you felt exude from the weapon's very core only allowed more vivid actualization of what had been the dreams you kept for years upon years. You were enamored with Anakin even more after this point, and despite the fear that lingered deep in your heart, there's something to be said about feeling his essence for but a moment. It was something inexplicable, something fascinatingly complex.

-----

“Lord Anakin wishes to speak with you.”

A knock upon your door as morning broke followed by this request from a member of Anakin's innumerable messengers across the empire. He hands you a bit of paper requesting, or moreso demanding your audience in his dwellings at 5 in the evening that day.

Looking at a clock shining a bright 7 a.m., all that welled within your heart was fear and anticipation. your door closed once the messenger had provided you with the information he was tasked with, and alone you stood for a moment at your entryway trying to gather what he could have wanted from you. You were insignificant at best, all that caught his eye was your increasingly daring behavior that hinged on means for execution. Though for some reason you lived, and for that very reason you held a modicum of faith that there was somehow a positive means to be in his private audience.

-----

As your day drew to a close, every minute feeling like hours against the impending clock that determined at 5 pm, may you live to see the next day, or might you not be so lucky. Quickly changing out of your working clothes, you make your way to Anakin's room with an intense grasp on the time, so as to not be a moment too late. Or early for that matter.

Stood outside the arched doorway of his room you sit there with a quickened heart. Anticipation and petrification consume you respectively as the only door that divided you from him was little effect in withholding the feeling of him right on the other side, the aura of a man who had little remorse. Sympathy. Consideration or especially means for compromise. It was what he wanted, or death. You reminded yourself, steeling yourself for whatever he may demand of you as you enter.

“You may come in already.”

His voice booms from the inside of the room. He could tell you were there. He could sense your fear no doubt, tell your presence from behind a steel door. You enter with haste.

There you find him sitting on a chair, waiting for you to approach him. With cautious steps you obliged, taking in all you could of your surroundings-- surveying for anything that may cue you in a second before he does.

You stand a few feets' distance from him.

“No, come here.”

He motions his hand towards you, as you observe a face of indifference at the sight of you. It was better than anger. Much, better than anger.

You arrive at around a half-foot distance from him, and with that he commands;

“Give me your hands.”

As he opens up with both his arms outstretched as you slowly move them into his, feeling a cold and calloused hand grab yours the moment they were in reach, and moving them slowly to his temple. You stood there in silence as he closed his eyes at the touch of your fingers upon his face, a furrowed brow that implied that you weren't providing for him what he had expected of you.

And then it dawned on you. He wants you to heal him.

“Would you, like me to heal you, sir?”

A polite tone coated your voice to hide any semblance of anxiety or embarrassment.

“Yes.”

“Well, I can't quite do that without knowing the source. Can you tell me what you want to heal?”

“Headaches. Migraines. Must I say more.”

“No, no not at all. Thank you, sir.”

And so with gentle hands along his temples, you feed within him the power that he has grown privy to. Though as you watch along his face an unforeseen tension seems to be released from his face as it grows softer under your touch. A scowl turns into a resting face, and a furrow of brows evens out for a feeling of tranquility you can only assume overtook the body of a man relieved of an incessant headache.

And a tear, runs from his face.

After a few more minutes you feel as though you’ve done all you can, and let up from his face.

He looks at you for a moment, and you see someone you oddly recognize. For but a moment the gruff exterior of a man dealing with war looks upon you like, just a man. No amount of intimidation could negate the fact that he was just that, and as you healed his mind, you felt as though a bit of his heart was able to shine through in its place.

“Very well. I expect you to report here instead of your usual station tomorrow from now on. Is that clear?”

“Oh uh, yes sir. May I ask what you will be expecting of me from now on? What shall I do for you?”

“You will be my personal assistant. Do you object to my order?”

“No, no sir. Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”

And as you turn away to walk back to your room, he calls upon you once more.

“Thank you.”

That is all he says, and proceeds to turn into his bedroom through a separate door. As you depart from his home, you feel within yourself a well-developed liking for Anakin that overshadows the fear you held for him. To understand him is what you desire most, and although to heal the mind isn't to be able to read it, you realize that much can be learned through what parts of a person hurt most.

----

As time went on, to report to his door every day and follow his list of commands, cleaning his place, placing his robes, and most importantly healing his mind most every night, you began to learn intimate details of him that made him quite human to you. He was very slow to speak, only when it was absolutely necessary. But he was kind to you, and as time grew on he seemed to enjoy you as well. You gathered that no one visited him, no one really felt comfortable in his presence and that was something that drastically changed within your own feelings toward him.

And as the bond grew even stronger, he had a room built for you close to that of his own, as a means to keep you closer for when he needed it. He was very hard of emotion, and in those moments of healing is really the only time you felt as though you could truly see Anakin. And there's cause to believe he thinks so as well. To heal his mind is to heal his heart in a way, and with every night spent together for a few minutes softened him up to you immensely.

He felt vulnerable around you, and that made him feel human, even for just a moment.

#anakin skywalker #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #sw anakin #enemies to lovers #enemies to implied lovers #anakin fluff #sith anakin #sith x reader #vader x reader #darth vader

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raineandsky · 2 months

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Ouroboros

#78.2 (part 1) (part 2)

“Chicken noodle soup?”

The henchman brandishes a bowl at the hero like a weapon of healing. The hero begrudgingly takes it, and the henchman gives them his classic lopsided smile in victory.

It’s been two weeks since the hero woke up in this cosy little room. Two weeks since they tried to stop the villain unleashing chaos on the city. Two weeks since they disappeared off the agency’s radar.

The henchman settles in the chair next to the bed as the hero gets comfortable, the bowl balanced carefully in their hands. It’s delightfully warm against their skin, the smell absolutely divine; they’re two seconds away from either falling asleep or devouring the entire thing.

“Any news about the agency?”

The henchman clicks his tongue. The hero’s been finding more and more roundabout ways to ask the same question, but the henchman knows what they mean by now.

“They have another hero out dealing with [Villain].” He averts his gaze to the window awkwardly. “They still haven’t acknowledged that you’re gone.”

The agency’s a self-absorbed little corporation. The hero knows that. Still—a search party would be nice. A memorial, even. Something to say that they noticed the hero disappeared.

“They’re probably busy filling the gap I left,” the hero says with forced disinterest, and dips into their soup to keep their mouth from saying too much.

They crave for someone to notice—a colleague, their higher-ups, anyone, anything to prove they cared even a little bit. They’ve already told the henchman that the agency looks out for them. It’ll be awkward if it turns out they lied about that.

The two of them sit in silence for a while, the henchman reading a book as the hero inhales the soup. It’s amazing, as always, and fills a gaping hole that they wish could be filled by more legitimate means.

The henchman looks up when the bowl rattles against the bedside table. His book gets flopped page-down on the table next to him in an instant. “Let’s get those bandages changed again,” he says simply, and the hero groans.

They don’t see the point. They feel fine, but the henchman won’t even let them look anymore. The last time they’d seen the gash it’d looked much better, but the henchman insists that they must’ve done something to tear it again. What, they’ve no clue—all they do all day is roll around in bed. How they’d tear a wound open enough to need another week of healing and close inspection is beyond them.

The henchman shuffles closer armed with a roll of bandages. The hero rolls their eyes and lifts their shirt in defeat.

The henchman’s touch is as soft as ever, of course, and the hero watches him for lack of anything better to look at.

His brow furrows in concentration, his hands steady, his tongue caught between his teeth. His hair is still wet from what the hero assumes is a shower. His usual black clothes—that the hero has come to guess are a uniform for the villain—are abandoned in favour of a baggy t-shirt and a pair of well-loved joggers.

They don’t flinch under his fingers anymore. He’s pleasantly warm against their skin, forever gentle despite the hero’s repeated “I’m fine!” When he’s done he leans back and graces the hero with the slightest of smiles.

“It’s still looking a little rough,” he says like he read the hero’s mind. “We’ll give it a couple more days to make sure it’s definitely good before you head out.”

“You say that every day,” the hero points out. They can’t keep their tone from being exasperated.

They love it here, sure—the cooking, the comfy bed, the being doted on—but they want to kick the agency’s ass for apparently forgetting about them.

“A couple more days,” the henchman repeats, and with a sigh he grabs the old bundle of (bloodless?) bandages and leaves the hero to themself.

A couple more days. The hero’s getting restless stuck in this tiny room. They need to sink their claws into the agency, show them what they’re missing.

They can always come back once they’re done.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #shoutout to the anon who asked for this like 1000 years ago lmao #idk if you follow me so idk if youll see it but ta da!! enjoy!!

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megamindsecretlair · 8 months

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Sit Still (Look Pretty), Part 3

Pairing: Nomad Steve x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some making out, porn without plot, PIV unprotected (wrap it up!), fingering (fem receiving), cum play, breeding kink, possession kink, cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Steve is mid 30s. Part 3 of 3, final chapter babayyy!

Summary: AU where Steve was born in modern times but still received a serum in the army to make him a super soldier. He's moved in next door and has noticed you watching him. He's come back from a business trip and the only place he wants to be is with you.

Word Count: 3,528k

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2

A/N: Listen...I know. I got zooted and just kept writing. I have no excuses for myself. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @namsey1987 @dayjlovesromance

Steve had been gone nearly three weeks and you were not taking it well. After he effectively made you his fuck doll, he disappeared. Well, that wasn’t fair. You texted all the time and called each other when he was done for the day.

You didn’t know what he did and he wasn’t allowed to tell you. You knew it was dangerous and you knew that the military valued him. As much as the military could value anyone.

You were going stir crazy. He made you feel alive. He had pinpointed something you held close to the vest for so long. He not only sniffed you out, he was able to deliver. And deliver more. And then he just left. Vanished. Poofed.

If you didn’t have such vivid memories, you’d think it was all a dream. Hell, it was starting to feel like one. Which was insane. You knew you sounded insane. But you were bordering on obsession at this point.

You needed to feel his lips on yours. His hands on your body. You needed to hear his filthy words. You needed to see that perfect face lost in your body. You needed to know that you affected him just as much as he affected you.

You didn’t know when he would be back. So there you were. On a Tuesday afternoon staring at your ceiling because nothing mattered anymore. You weren’t depressed. You weren’t that delusional. You just missed him so damn much.

Your parents had noticed a change in you. They often asked what was wrong with you and why you were so sullen all the time. You put on a fake smile every time they come near. It wasn’t like you could admit that you were in desperate need of being bent over and fucked out of your mind.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your strange musings. You wanted to ignore it. But some divine intuition made you reach for it. Steve’s name flashed across the screen. Your heart flipped as you swiped to answer it.

“How’s my best girl?” Steve’s suave voice was like music to your ears. You grinned like an idiot and flipped over in bed.

“Good. Been busy, you?”

“Missing you.”

You giggled. “Steve…”

“Tell me you miss me,” he said.

“You know I do,” you said. You couldn’t stop grinning. You knew that he couldn’t see you and you were silently thankful for it. You looked like an idiot.

“I want to hear the words,” he said. There was shuffling on his end and then the sound of a door closing. He must have made it back to his hotel room early.

“I miss you, Steve.” You added extra sugar to your voice and Steve chuckled.

“Brat. What are you doing?” He asked.

“Getting ready to hang with friends,” you lied. You couldn’t very well tell him that you didn’t want to do anything at the moment but sulk. Sulk and remember the feeling of him all over your body.

“Look out of your window.”

You froze. Surely…surely not. You scrambled out of your bed and threw back your curtains. Across the way, Steve stood in his bedroom window and waved to you. You shrieked.

“When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked. You placed your hand on your window as if you could reach out and touch him. You couldn’t believe that he was there, just a short distance away.

The persistent ache in your chest eased up at the sight of him. It was unnatural to miss someone this much, but you did. You missed him desperately.

“Wanted to surprise you. Get your ass over here,” Steve’s voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

You loosed a breath and grinned. He did not have to tell you twice. You turned and threw on a pair of shorts and a shirt. You realized too late that you stood at the window in your bra and panties. Well hell. He saw more than that weeks ago.

“Don’t you dare change that sexy outfit either.” Steve hung up the phone and it only excited you more.

You ran downstairs and slipped on your sandals. “Where are you rushing off to?” Your mom caught you by the front door. She emerged from the kitchen with glasses around her neck. She looked you up and down and you thanked your lucky stars that she couldn’t see you blush.

“Friends. We’re probably going to head to the mall or something. I’ll text if I catch something with them,” you said.

Two for two on lying. You wished that you felt guilty but you just didn’t. You were bouncing as you stood there. Heat and desire suffused you. You knew you were in for a naughty treat and you didn’t need your mom knowing that the neighbor was ruining her baby girl.

Your mom tilted her head as she looked at you. “I’m glad you seem a bit happier. For real this time. You know I’m here if you ever want to talk,” she said.

“I know, mom. I’m fine. Swear.” You gave her your best smile. She still side eyed you but waved you away. What harm could you get into in Bumfuck, Suburbia? It was a major reason why they moved here in the first place. They didn’t want to worry about you hanging out with friends or being gone all night in less than savory neighborhoods.

You waved as well and headed out of the front door. You quickly skipped past the porch, across the lawn, and over to Steve’s house. Before you could knock, Steve opened the door and smiled at you. He yanked you into the house.

No sooner had the door closed, did he push you against it and crash his lips against you. His hands gripped your waist and pulled you flush against his hard dick. You gasped and the sensation. That allowed him to sweep his tongue inside and deepen the kiss.

Your hands came up to play with the hair at his nape. His hair had grown out a bit making him look wilder, more unkempt. His beard was thicker and it tickled your cheeks but you were too busy being kissed out of your mind.

His kisses grew desperate. He pushed until your back hit the door. His hands wrapped around you and squeezed your ass. He growled low in his throat. He trailed his lips across your jaw, your cheek, your eye, and then dipped to your neck.

“I really missed you, sweetheart,” he murmured against your neck.

“I really fuckin’ missed you, too.”

He rested his forehead against yours and huffed. You rubbed your hands along his massive arms, back, and thin waist. It was criminal how slutty his waist was. You needed to remember him all over again. Every plane and dip of his body. You needed to re-learn all of his looks and smiles.

“Upstairs. Now.” He leaned back far enough for you to scoot from under him. You scurried to the stairs and a swift smack to your ass made you cry out. “Not fast enough.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as you nearly ran up the stairs. Steve thundered behind you, taking the stairs two at a time for your every one step. Your heart pounded in your chest. Pretty soon, it would burst through and run down the street.

Your head felt light. You were equal parts dizzy and free. He spun your head around and you only wanted more.

You didn’t know where he wanted you to go. So far, he’d only fucked you in his office. You hesitated at the top of the stairs. Steve grabbed you by the waist once more and picked you up.

You yelped. You slapped at his arms as he threw you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. “Steve! Put me down!”

You bounced a little as he carried you to a room. You had a perfect view of his ass as it moved in his tight jeans. You were too busy holding on to his belt to properly smack him back. He, however, smacked yours. His big hands caressed your thighs and you clenched painfully. Your thighs tingled. He hadn’t even done anything yet.

“Are you scared?” He asked.

“Yes! This is…”

Steve flipped you and threw you onto a bed. You bounced and steadied yourself with your hands. You looked at him as he grinned at you.

“I will pick you up whenever…” He leaned down and kissed your calf. “Wherever…” He kissed your knee. “However…” He kissed your thigh. “I damn well please.” He used his nose to lift your shirt and kissed your belly, right on your stretch marks.

You sighed and played with his hair. “Don’t tease me, Steve. Not today,” you said.

He smirked at you and placed more kisses on your tummy. “Afraid not, sweetheart. I have been dreaming of getting back in between your thighs, so I’m going to take my time.”

Your mouth dropped open and your hands stopped their searching. “Steve…”

He chuckled softly. “I’ve been gone a long time. I need to enjoy this. Just like I know you need to enjoy this. So let me,” he said. He trained those deep blue eyes on you. A faint smile curved his lips.

“Okay,” you said and smiled.

His grin was like the first ray of dawn. It lit up his whole face. Your answering smile made his eyes dip slowly. “You can say no at any time. Only say it and I will,” he said.

You nodded. “I know. I want this,” you said.

If possible, his smile only grew. He stood up and looked down at you. You were able to see more of the room. His room was still in progress but it already felt so much like him. There weren’t a lot of frivolous things on his dresser or bookshelf.

His cover was soft but practical. It was a deep blue and incredible to the tough. The mattress was a little stiff but not horrible. You rubbed your hands over it as you looked back at Steve. You had one leg down and one leg up on the bed. He grabbed your ankle of the leg that was up and pulled.

“I gotta inspect you first,” he said.

“What?” That caught you so off guard that you cricked your neck glancing at him.

“I’ve been gone a long time, sweetheart. I gotta make sure you followed my directions,” he said.

Oh god. He was serious about that. When he left without saying a word, you woke up to a text saying that you weren’t allowed to get yourself off or let any other man near you. You had laughed. He couldn’t be serious. Sure, you liked the way he manhandled you, but that rubbed against the grain.

But no, he was serious. So serious, that he called immediately and demanded that you not touch yourself. Like…at all. And baby. You were so frustrated. You felt like you’d die if you didn’t get filled up with something.

Steve began to trail his fingers up and down your legs. When he rubbed the underside of your thighs, you whimpered. You bit your lip. Steve’s eyes seemed to grow edgier. He narrowed them as he continued to glide his fingers on your bare legs.

It was so quiet in the room, that you heard how loud and desperate you were getting. You probably looked pathetic. You gripped your shorts. It was a mixture of wanting to cry and wanting to laugh from the sensation.

“Please, don’t. Don’t tease me. I followed your directions,” you said.

“How do I know that for certain? You could’ve been a bad girl,” he said. He reached for your shorts and unbuttoned them. He pulled them roughly over your thick thighs.

You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Steve opened your legs as far as they would go. He looked at your lacy white panties. No garters this time. You couldn’t stand anything more than a simple set for the past few weeks.

Between the heat and lack of sex, you were stuck in the middle of uncomfortable and turned on.

You shook your head. “I swear. I listened,” you said.

“You still have to prove it, sweetheart,” he said.

There was nothing you could say to change his mind. You were at his whim and it didn’t frighten you. It should. It definitely should but it didn’t.

Still holding your knees open, he leaned down and sniffed your pussy. You gasped at finally getting some stimulation. You were incredibly sensitive. He pressed his nose in, rubbing you up and down through your panties. You sighed and moaned. You tossed your head back and forth and dug your nails into his covers.

“I need more,” you whined.

“I know what you need.” He kissed your pussy and you moaned again. He kissed his way up your center. He kissed your tummy. He licked certain areas and bit in other places. The alternating pain and tickles drove you insane.

He skirted his fingers down your side before he moved it down to your aching cunt. You whined as he rubbed you outside of your panties. It felt good, sure, but you needed more. You needed direct contact.

You tapped pathetically at his arm. “I need more,” you said.

“It’s my inspection, sweetheart. You’ll get what I want you to get,” he said.

You cried again and writhed under his excellent fingers. He increased his pressure and you started mumbling and making noises. You got so, so close.

Steve stalled his fingers and pressed into your clit. “No, no, no no,” you cried. Fuck, you were so close. Just a little more.

“Shhh,” Steve said. He moved his hand up and pushed on your lower tummy. It flipped and you breathed through it. Steve breathed with you and you stared into his eyes as you came down.

Steve leaned back when you had calmed down and looked at you. “You’ve made a mess in your panties, sweetheart,” his voice rumbled in his chest.

Your aching pussy clenched and you cried a bit. “Please, Steve. I was good. I swear,” you pleaded.

You needed to cum right this second. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He sat up and tugged on your panties until they were past your feet. He gripped your thighs in his big hands and spread you. He looked his fill at your wet pussy. You were leaking down your ass cheek.

He just sat there, looking at the way you clenched around nothing. Your body was electric. Heat suffused you. Your desire continued a slow trail out of you. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

Steve ran his index finger through your damp curls. He moved his finger until he spread you and swiped at your pussy. You bucked off of the bed. You were not prepared for that simple little motion.

Your nub was hard as he slid his finger through your folds. You cried out and bit your lip. The painful bite paled in comparison to the magic Steve was working with his fingers. Pressure built in your lower belly as your legs began to shake.

“Have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone, sweetheart?”

“Whaa?” You couldn’t concentrate on his voice and concentrate on getting off. You didn’t know how much longer you could last through this torture. You’d give up the nuclear codes if it meant that he would just let you cum.

“Did you touch what was mine?” He asked.

“No, I swear.” Your throat burned from how hard you were panting. Your fingers twisted in his covers.

He slid his finger inside of you with no warning. He hummed as if he was satisfied with how you squeezed his fingers. He slid another one in and you dropped your mouth open. “You can take more than that,” he said. He pushed a third finger into you and you grinded on his fingers. He stretched you so well.

“That’s it,” he said. He coached you through taking his fingers. He told you when to slow down and when to speed up. He encouraged you to fuck his fingers and prove how good you were for him.

“Ohhh,” you repeated over and over. Desire pooled in your tummy. You squeezed his fingers. “That’s my girl. Just like that, sweetheart.”

It was the ‘sweetheart’ that did you in. You came with a fierce moan and clamped down on his fingers. Your eyes crossed as you shook and jerked. Steve continued to move his fingers into you.

“That’s my girl. You’re so fucking pretty when you cum,” he said. He stared at you and the pretty faces you were making for him.

You panted as you came down. Sweat clung to your body. Your harsh breath blew across your damp stomach. When he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers out of you and licked his fingers. You cried at this sight. His hand glistened with your slick and you cried again.

“I want to keep going, but I need to cum in that pussy.”

“Fuck, yes, Steve.” You whined and turned doe eyes on him.

Steve yanked at his sweatpants and pulled them off in one go. His tank top went next. He snapped it on the floor. He climbed onto the bed and used his big thighs to push your legs back.

You had a proper ache beginning in your back but you didn’t care. You were about to have the ride of your life.

Steve grabbed his thick cock and glided it through your wet arousal. He circled your clit with it and you licked your lips. Fuck, why did that feel so good?

No more games. You hiked your legs onto his waist and he pushed at your entrance. He kept going, pushing into you. You brought your hand up to push against him. He felt too good. You dug your nails into his chest and he grunted.

“Steve…oh god,” you said. You didn’t know what you were trying to say but pleasure robbed you of speech. It robbed you of thinking clearly.

He kept pushing in until he bottomed out and you both groaned out. He collapsed on top of you as if he couldn’t support himself anymore. He groaned and bit your titty through your shirt.

“Fuck, I missed this sweet pussy,” he groaned into your ear. “Oh fuck,” he continued.

You bit at his shoulder as he twitched inside of you. You squeezed his dick and made him groan again. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he said.

He pushed himself up and off to the side. He lifted your shirt and palmed your breasts through your bra. He lowered each cup and began to lick on your left nipple. He moaned as he laved at it with the flat of his tongue. With each swipe, you felt more desire in your belly. You clenched his dick and he groaned.

He started to move. You were so wet, he almost had a hard time staying in. He began to stroke you deep and hard and slow.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuuck,” you moaned.

He switched to your other nipple and paid it the same attention he did the other one. He nipped at your nipple and you jerked beneath him.

“Let me hear it, sweetheart. Give me one more,” he said. He twitched his hips and reached a spot hidden deep within you.

You cried out soundlessly and stared agape at him. You grabbed at his chest leaving thin red streaks in his skin.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Breath for me,” he said. He hit that deep spot over and over. You stared into his eyes as he smiled patiently and adoringly at you.

“You feel so good. And you’ve been such a good girl for me. Taking all of me. I’m so proud of you,” he said.

“Fuuuuck,” you screamed as you came. The way your thighs locked Steve to you, made him tense as he came deep within you. Hot jets of his come squirted inside of you. You felt it all. You felt so full and blissed out. You closed your eyes and rode your orgasm silently. He had fucked all of the breath out of you.

“I missed you, sweetheart. I missed this pussy too. Stay with me tonight,” he said.

“What?” You croaked out.

“Stay with me. I’m gonna need to reassert my place right here,” he said and stroked you again.

“Steve, please. I can’t. No more,” you pleaded.

“Say you’ll stay. I’ve got three weeks worth of load to fill you up with.” He pushed in and out of you with a slow glide so that you felt every inch of him. Every ridge and vein.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, I’ll stay.”

Your eyes were turning watery. You blinked up at him and his cocky smile. “That’s my girl,” he said. And he took you again until you were dizzy with pleasure and making sure the whole neighborhood heard how Steve was tearing you apart.

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2

There's more Steve! The Secret Nomad Steve Files

#megaminds secret files #The Secret Nomad Steve Files #marvel smut #Nomad Steve x Black!reader #Nomad Steve x Black reader #Nomad Steve x Fem!reader #Nomad Steve x fem reader #Nomad Steve x reader #Nomad Steve x you #Nomad Steve #Nomad Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers fic #Steve Rogers smut #Steve Rogers Captain America smut

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ecoamerica · 20 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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blossom-works · 1 year

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Ow Ow

A cute lil story of Hades’ princess and how he began to love you more than he ever thought he could.

Part of my Hades series

The only thing that can hurt a God is a divine weapon. Normal, human weapons are mere toys. While this is true, Gods are not that invincible as they or others think they are. Gods can die if a fatal blow from a divine weapon lands on them. When a God does die, their bodies are turned into particles. Meant to dance in the realm of Niflhel for eternity. A realm where reincarnation or a re-birth is impossible.

When you became the queen of Helheim, you gained an ability to regenerate yourself. Before, you could heal minor injuries but let us say, if you got your arm ripped off - Tough luck. Now though, you can heal a lost arm given some time. Not in the “growing a new limb like a lizard” heal, but the “regenerate the lost tissue like closing a wound” heal.

Neither you or Hades knew this would happen, but it did. So, why in the name of the Heavens does childbirth hurt so damn much! Even with the painkiller the nurses have injected you with have eased the pain!

“Three more centimeters to go, your majesty.”

You throw your head back in annoyance and frustration. Your left hand is being cradled by your doting husband who is sort of getting on your nerves too. A nurse to your right is patting your forehead with a cold, damp cloth.

When you and Hades broke the news of a baby, it became bigger news than when Hades, the King of the Netherworld, was getting married. Sure, pregnancies and childbirth are common in the world of the Gods, but not when a major God is expecting. The last time something like that happened were with your nephews, and it has been centuries since then. For a week straight, all the Gods and Goddesses threw a party to celebrate the heir of the Netherworld.

Some, like you, thought that your husband would became protective of you since his child is in your womb, but to your surprise, Hades was pretty okay. He did check up on you more often that he normally did, but he did not breath on you the entire time. Hades did though, get more affectionate. At least twice a day he would kiss your growing abdomen and when he could, cradle your bump.

Your baby was not planned. Sure, you and Hades would talk about it, but never had the intentions of trying. Your lives were just too busy to have a child or two. Hades oversees all that happens in Helheim, while most importantly, keeping an eye on Tartarus. You share the same responsibility while upholding your duty as the Goddess of Life and Death. A baby was just not part of your agendas. Of course, fate has a funny way of working even for a divine being.

“And you can’t up my dosage?” You beg.

“I’m afraid not m’lady. Even though this baby is a divine being, we cannot risk their health by giving you more medicine.”

The nurse bow to you and your husband before exiting the room. When you told Hades about your frequent cramps (which were actually contractions), he sent for the best doctor and nurses in Helheim. The doctor suggested on breaking your water, but if you have learned anything about modern, human medicine, having your water be popped manually is a no go. Apparently, it makes actual labor harder and the contractions stronger since the body is not ready to deliver the baby. When you pondered over that, it was an automatic “no” that you are starting to regret.

Your husband whispers encouraging words in your ear. He also does what the maids did and wipes the sweat before it can trickle down your face. As always, Hades is keeping his usual, calm composure. He is not named the “God Whom Other Gods Rely on the Most” for no reason. Hades did take off his eye patch though, so you are pretty sure some part of him is a little weary.

While Hades is a busybody, he halted all his kingly duties. He said, “I will not miss the birth of my own child. I vowed to stay by your side, beloved. My duties as king as trivial compared to our child you are about to bear.”

As another wave of contractions hits you, your body tenses up. The hand hold Hades’ squeezes his hand, almost like you are squeezing its life force away. Hades swiftly switches his hands so he can hold you behind your shoulders.

To you, it feels like days before the doctor instructs you to start pushing. While it hurts like hell, having a watermelon come out of your most sacred area, you are thankful you did not allow the practitioners to pop your water. In four pushes, the baby - the proof of yours and Hades’s shared love, has arrived.

Its cries fill the room while Hades is astonished at the blood and fluid covered child. He never left your side even when the nurses and doctors were coaxing him to wait out the room. To you, it feels like your husband helped you deliver your child more than the medical professionals. Relief washes over you when you push out the placenta and whatever it is that needs to leave your body. The nurses are carefully inspecting your child before wrapping it up and handing it to you

“Congratulations, your majesties. You have a girl - a princess.”

Still drenched in sweat and tears, you hold your child, your daughter, close to your chest. Your legs are still propped up as the doctor inspects your nether region. The nurses had cleaned the princess off so she is no longer covered in bodily fluids. For some reason, she somehow does not smell all that terrible.

The doctor informs you that your body should start healing itself shortly. Then, he and the nurses gathered their things and left the palace.

Your daughter still cries but her cries are not as loud as when she came out. With your index finger you gently caress her cheek. You start to memorize her soft facial features, wandering how they will change as she grows up. Feeling your touch, the babies calms down. Her cries have turned into whimpers. You caress her white head of hair. You wander how it is so soft already. Her lashes are thick and long, it practically makes you jealous. But how can you be? This child - your child - your daughter - is perfect after all.

Seeing a bigger hand hold the baby’s head from behind bring you back from your moments bliss. Remembering that you are not alone, you look at your husband. He, just like you, has fallen in love at first sight. His little princess is here. Helheim’a crown princes has arrived. Snuggling up to him for a brief moment, you hand your child to her father. You make sure Hades knows how to hold her and which way is most comfort table to him.

Your body has begun to heal itself, but you cannot bring yourself to care right now. I’m your husband’s arms is your shared child. Her whimpers have stopped and she now coos here and there. Subconsciously, Hades starts to rock her. His purple eyes scan her entire being. It seems that with every glance, Hades falls more and more in love with her. Not caring about how she just came out of you, Hades brings his baby up to his face, and plants a feather like kiss on her head.

Who knew having a child with the one you love most can be this serene and euphoric?

Carefully, Hades releases on arm from under his daughter and brings you close. Your first family hug. Family. You and Hades and your baby, are a family. Kissing you on the lips, he thanks you for your blessing. Fate is on your side today because as soon as you and Hades pull away, your daughter opens her eyes - Purple. Just like her father. You are sure Hades could not love his child more than he does right now.

You both question what her personality will look like the more she develops. Would she be social like you or reserved like her father? Would she prefer reading over physical activities? These are the questions you two talk about. You child falls asleep in Hades’ arms. By now, you are fully healed. Hades gives his daughter one more kiss before putting her in her bassinet.

Hades scoops you in his arms and lays on the bed, placing you on top of him. Unlike with your baby, his hold on you is firm. He presses multiple kisses on your lips and face. When you look at him, his eyes are a tad bit brighter and wider.

“Sleep. I know you are healed but I’m sure it took a lot of you - to birth our daughter and to heal yourself.”

Just like how he did the baby, Hades rocks you to sleep. He watches as you follow your daughter’s footsteps. Just before you get lost in dream land though, he tells you, “I did not think I could love you more than I already do. But when you gave birth to our child, my love for you has bloomed a million times over.”

When you woke up the next morning, you find your husband holding the awake princess. Playing with her with a white owl in hand. In two years, it will become known as “Ow Ow”.

#fanfiction #hades x reader #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #x reader #record of ragnarok hades #ror hades x reader #snv hades x reader #fluff

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l0serloki · 1 year

Note

hi, i really like your fic you write. Can i have request NSFW Yoru x reader after they get married 😳👉👈. Have a nice day

Yoru x Reader

Genre : Smut

Summary : You and Yoru arrive at the hotel after your wedding. He has some ideas about how he can show his happiness..

WC : 800

CW : Yoru with a praise kink, fem!reader, oral! fem receiving, teasing bastard Yoru, slight breeding kink per usual

A/N : I hope you enjoy this!! The idea was super fun and it was a nice change to write for Yoru! I hope I did you justice!

If you had told Yoru a year ago that he would be married he would laugh in your face. He wasn't the type to settle down easy, or trust for that matter. Something about you broke his walls down and he was happy to say he would do anything for you. The car ride to the hotel had been easy enough, Yoru yelling at the driver to go faster and that you all didn't have all day. You could only chuckle at the mans antsy behavior as you thought about the week to come. The two of you had gone to a resort on the beach to get the most of your time off work.

You had arrived at the spot and Yoru begrudgingly took care of the luggage. You both entered your new room for the next week and to say you were blown away was an understatement. It smelled absolutely divine and looked the part too. The staff had obviously put their time into folding the towels and laying the amenities out. "The room is so rich, 'Ru. Looks amazing." You heard him grunt as he left the en suite bathroom. "That suit was too uncomfortable. I don't know how that prick Chamber enjoys wearing one for fun. Probably a masochist or something." You let out a laugh as his arms wrapped around your waist. "Why don't we get you out of your clothes too? Wouldn't want my wife too uncomfortable on our first day married." His eyes screamed of lust as he looked you up and down. He grabbed the strap of your dress and slowly pushed it down your arm, fingers grazing over your skin. He repeated the action and reached around to untie the knots on the back. He was painstakingly slow, riling you up in the process. You whined and writhed under the man while he cooed. "No no Y/N, be still for me. We have to enjoy our time together." He was getting off on teasing you and there was only so much you could take.

Yoru had finally stripped you of your dress and pride, laying you down against the plush bed. “Oh Y/N.. My pretty flower. You’ll be good for me tonight, right?”

You nodded adamantly at him and he kissed your forehead. “Good. Lets get you ready.” You felt his rough hands dig into your thighs and his face dropped between your legs. You watched in awe as he moved in and laid his tongue flat against your cunt. You whimpered and he made eye contact. “More ‘Ru. Please.” You grabbed his hair and pulled him deeper to your sopping pussy. Yoru obliged and dug his wet muscle into your pulsating hole.

His tongue had entered in and out of you for what felt like an eternity. There was infinite pleasure at your hands and Yoru controlled it. You could feel the tension in your stomach rise as you got closer and closer. Yoru noticed and added a finger onto your clit, pushing you over the edge. The room filled with moans and the sounds of Yoru lapping up your cum.

“You’re so good Yoru, thank you.” You rubbed his cheek as he sat up, hard member lining up with you. He went red and looked away at the praise. “Yeah whatever. Gotta make sure my girl enjoys her night. You’re in for it now though.” You felt the man push into you slowly, gaping you and sending jolts of pleasure everywhere.

Yoru’s pace was hard as he drilled you into the pillows. His grunts got louder and louder and his face dropped into your shoulder. Your hand dug at the baby hairs on the back of his neck as you moved with each thrust. “God Y/N, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t last much longer.” You were close too and knew exactly what would push him over the edge. “Your cock is so good Yoru. Always so good for me, my good boy.”

Your point stood correct as he went inhumanly faster, almost breaking your back in the process. “Fuck- ‘Ru I’m cumming. Cumming for you.” Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as your orgasm hit. Yoru lasted a few thrusts after and then came, his hot cum filling up your abused hole.

“Such a good wife for me. Stuck with this for a lifetime, my flower.”

#yoru x reader smut #yoru valorant #yoru #yoru x reader #valorant x you #valorant x reader #valorant #valorant imagines #valorant smut

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lilapplesheadcannons · 3 months

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A life of service and compassion

Wen Ning always felt slightly irrationally guilty staying home on a Monday morning. Somewhere in his subconscious, a voice that was suspiciously similar to Qing-Jie's called him a bum, but he was determined to enjoy every moment of the golden period that was summer break. It was a particularly glorious day today. The sunshine entered through their living room window and coloured their ancient beaten down wood furniture in a deep honey colour. The air smelled of butter and fresh pancake, remnant of their breakfast. For the next couple of hours, until he had to help granny making lunch, he had nothing to do. So he grabbed Jie's stethoscope and decided to listen to their cat Zombie's stomach. It was safe. Jie has just returned from a night shift and would be dead to the world for the next 8 hours.

Zombie's stomach gurgled away happily. It sounded like all the mice and lizards and roaches inside were having a very animated debate. Wen Ning was jolted out of his reverie by an impatient horn outside. Glancing down from the window, he wasn't surprised to see the battered jalopy. Wei Wuxian was madly grinning from the driver's seat as he waved him to come downstairs. Wen Ning suddenly had the premonition his Monday just got very interesting!

Wen Ning found out Wei Wuxian wasn't the only occupant of his car. Jiang Cheng was sulking with his arms crossed in the front passenger's seat. In the backseat, Nie HuaiSang looked mildly lost and confused like he didn't quite know where he was or how he got there.

"What is going on?"

Wei Wuxian smiled his most persuasive smile. This should have been a warning sign. "Good morning to you, too. We have a favour to ask."

Wen Ning considered turning back and running inside. He was 17. Jie can and will still whoop his ass if he got arrested or, even worse, dead.

Jiang Cheng snorted loudly, "You are scaring him!"

Wei Wuxian waved his arms wildly, "It's nothing serious, really. You know Jie went on her honeymoon last month. She asked us to keep an eye on her flat. She is coming back this afternoon. The problem is, we have plain forgotten..."

"You have forgotten! Don't blame me!"

Wei Wuxian turned his head to look at Jiang Cheng, "Why haven't you gone to look after it then?"

Jiang Cheng's frown somehow managed to deepen, but he remained silent. Wei Wuxian turned back to look at Wen Ning placatingly, "Well, we need to make sure the flat is clean and not broken into and... stuff. Do you want to come along?"

Wen Ning asked cautiously, "Why would I want to come clean your sister's flat?"

Wei Wuxian started to persuade him in his gentlest voice, "You know how much Jie likes you. She made sure to serve your favourite lobster in her wedding. Do you really want her to return to a dusty flat after a month away? Besides, think of this as showing kindness, your act of good deed."

Nie HuaiSang spoke dreamily from his seat, "A generous heart, kind speech, and a life of service and compassion are the things which renew humanity."

Wei Wuxian nodded vigorously, "Yeah, that too!"

Wen Ning considered his options. If he was a sane, sound minded person, he would stay away from the three dukes of hazards. But when had he claimed to be sane? Besides, he did feel endebted to Jiang Yanli. The lobster was indeed divine. He couldn't have it on his conscience if he unleashed the trio in her flat unsupervised. Yanli might return to a crime scene instead.

He nodded and got in the backseat beside HuaiSang.

In 15 minutes, they were inside Yanli's flat. There was very little to do, in fact. Yanli has left the place immaculate. HuaiSang plopped down on the couch.

"Why did you sit down?" Jiang Cheng asked.

"Doesn't look like there is anything to do," Wei Wuxian ran a finger across the mantlepiece and looked visibly crestfallen at how clean his finger came out. "Not even dust."

Wen Ning tried to console him, "Well, it was a close flat. Maybe we can just air the rooms and leave."

Wei Wuxian argued, " But I will feel so bad if I left without doing anything. How about this? See that throw rug? It must be dusty. Let's vacuum it."

"You can't leave well alone, can you?" Jiang Cheng growled. But Wei Wuxian has already made his way to the supply closet and was pulling out an ancient gigantic vacuum cleaner. He plugged it in and pushed the power button, but nothing happened. In a typical Wei Wuxian manner, he tried to shake the vacuum. Jiang Cheng leapt forward to help or at least hit Wei Wuxian twice with the nozzle. It was a skirmish that suddenly resulted in the vacuum to start with a menacing growl. But instead of vacuuming, it started to regurgitate. Within a blink, the living room was covered in a dust storm.

After the four emerged, coughing and spluttering, the flat looked distinctly like the Sahara desert. There was inch deep dust on every surface. Dust swirled in the stagnant air. Both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng looked like commandos wearing face paint.

"See what have you done, you imbecile!" Oddly enough, it was the ever-placid HuaiSang who screamed.

Wei Wuxian scrstched his head thoughtfully, "Hm, that was very unexpected."

Unexpected indeed! Yanli would blow an aneurysm if she saw her precious flat in this state.

Jiang Cheng spat bitterly, "Well, now you can vacuum until the end of the world."

Wei Wuxian rejectedly picked up the vacuum cleaner, then put it back fown and announced, "I am starving."

Wen Ning grabbed Jiang Cheng before he could murder Wei Wuxian on the spot.

HuaiSang had dusted a perch for himself on the coffee table. He had obviously worked through his previous discontent because he stood up enthusiastically, "There must be something to eat in the kitchen."

Wei Wuxian and HuaiSang marched towards the kitchen. Jiang Cheng shook his head before picking up the vacuum and starting it, right way this time. Wen Ning followed the former two.

The kitchen escaped the dust onslaught. But it was remarkably...empty of foodstuffs. Just pots and pans gleamed in the cupboards.

HuaiSang opened the fridge. "There's a carton of eggs."

Wei Wuxian was bending down to peer into the cupboard. He straightened carrying a bottle of oil and a salt shaker. "We can fry some eggs!"

Wen Ning had also made a discovery himself. A tin of biscuits, tucked away in a corner in the overhead shelf. He grabbed the tin but was immensely disappointed to find teabags inside. Shame on Yanli Jie. She always seemed so nice, too.

Wei wuxian turned to HuaiSang, "Ok, let's get started. I'll heat up the pan. Why don't you crack the eggs and start beating them?"

He grabbed a 5 litre saucepan and set it on the gas hob before twisting the knob to the highest setting. HuaiSang looked absolutely lost, holding the carton. Wen Ning had a sneaky suspicion no one had confronted the young Nie heir with an egg before. He rummaged around the shelf to find a shallow bowl and a fork. In the meantime, Wei Wuxian had already emptied a 1-litre bottle of olive oil in the pot.

As Wen Ning cracked the first egg on the side of the counter, a smell appropriate of the deepest circle of hell was unleashed. It felt like all the horrible smells of the world were trapped inside, and they got out to torment humanity. Nie HuaiSang retched loudly and immediately projectile vomited. Wen Ning bumped his head on an open shelf and saw sparks before his eyes. Wei Wuxian jumped, and the pan burst into flames.

They all owed their lives to Jiang Cheng, who ran in to find them scrambling to collect water from the washbasin to pour over the oil fire. He shrieked like an angry elephant before unhooking the fire extinguisher from the wall and dousing the fire and everything in a 10 meter diameter in white foam.

The four of them stared dumbstruck at their handiwork. The living room was still covered in dust. The air smelled of dust, rotten egg, vomit, and fire. The kitchen was buried under a sea of foam. The fire alarm was blaring overhead. Is this service? Is this compassion?

"Guys, quick!" Wei Wuxian was always the leader in difficult situations. The four of them ran out of the flat like they were being pursued by the devil. As they descended the stairs three at a time and ran into the lobby, Jiang Yanli and her husband walked in, dragging their luggage behind them. Both looked very tanned with matching grins.

"Hi boys..." Yanli's husband didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Wei Wuxian threw the keys at him, and they ran out of the building. As they scrambled into the car and Wei Wuxian stepped on the accelerator, HuaiSang was the first to speak.

"Witness protection system!"

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #mdzs crack #mdzs headcanons #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #wen ning #jiang yanli #Jiang Yanli and her husband #(Wen sibling's cat is named zombie because he was rescued three quarter dead from a dumpster)#To most people Jin ZiXuan is known as Yanli's boyfriend and later husband.#He doesn't mind. In fact he has started to introduce himself as such.

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cjcraziness · 7 months

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Fe OC Week - Day 2 - Relationships and Friendships @fe-oc-week

Name: Regulus

Basic Info here and picture:

Regulus has Supports with ten individuals that are part of the Divine Dragon's Army (as well as with the Divine One), he has particularly close friendships with Boucheron and Lindon. He has 6 paired-endings (both romantic and platonic).

His two main relationships are with Boucheron or Ivy. (I prefer him with Boucheron the most)

Due to Regulus often seeming big-headed, brash and sometimes hyper-fixated on planning, strategy and his hobbies when people first meet him, he does struggle when making friends. Yet, as people get to know him they will see he does these things to help others, he is passionate about improving the lives of the people around him and in the future those of his Hometown and Country.

Boucheron

Boucheron and Regulus share a love of reading and the outdoors (although Regulus likes cold places). The Mage has a soft spot for romance and rom-com novels, which he usually hides under the covers of magic texts and has told no one, but Boucheron knows of this secret.

While Regulus isn't the biggest fan of hiking (not much for exercise) he does enjoy it with Boucheron and always ensures they have the area well-mapped out and the route is planned to a tee.

The two start a weekly Book Club where they spend time reading a (usually romance) novel in the Orchard together, it is just the two of them most of the time, though occasionally others will join them.

The two have unique mealtime dialogue mentioning this.

Dining with Boucheron:

Regulus - “Remember we have Book Club later, in the orchard. Do you want me to draw a map for you to get there again?”

Boucheron - "Oh, I'm pretty sure I can make it there on my own this time. But I'll remember to bring the book this time..."

Regulus also has unique dialogue if Boucheron died in battle.

If Boucheron died – “A gentle giant with a love of books... I’ll miss our reading sessions. But maybe not the tears. Goodbye, Boucheron.”

They have a romantic pair-ending together.

Ivy

Regulus bonds with Ivy over their shared views of Elusia, the want to rebuild and better their Country, problematic family and being against the Sombron doctrine. Regulus is rather amazed that the Crown Princess of the Country he holds dear regards him as someone with important opinions and not a simple Commoner.

Ivy is a bit exasperated by the fellow Mage at first, but they open up to one another and become close confidents. Regulus swears his loyalty to the Crown Princess and that he will do everything he his power to help his Country after the War.

In their spare time, they are both found wandering the Somniel gardens together with Regulus fussing how Ivy is not cold in her (definitely not winter) dresses.

Dining with Ivy:

Regulus - “I’m dining with the Crown Princess of Elusia! Is everything to your liking? Do you need anything, your Highness?”

Ivy - "Oh... Please calm down, Regulus... You should be more excited about the Divine One than myself."

Post Battle Exploration for Chapter 11 -

Regulus – “I am happy a member of Elusian Royalty has joined us. I hear Princess Ivy is a powerful Mage and will aid us well.”

They have a romantic pair-ending together.

Lindon

Regulus and the elthunder-obsessed Sage, Lindon, have much in common when it comes to a shared interest in magic and using it to do new things. The two do some experiments together, though Regulus is more theoretical and focussed on magic that could assist people, than the randomness Lindon usually causes.

Some of the others on the Somniel mention that the two should not be left alone together. Regulus sees the older Mage as a sort of mentor/ parent-like figure, one that encourages his magical abilities that he never got while at home.

The two have unique mealtime dialogue.

Dining with Lindon:

Regulus - “Please don't use elthunder on this meal, Lindon. I do not want a repeat of last time!”

Lindon - "But what about the effects it could cause? Where is your sense of magical adventure young Mage?"

Regulus also has unique dialogue if Lindon died in battle.

If Lindon died – “For all his magical prowess, it was not enough... But at least he will be reunited with his dear wife. I'm sorry, Lindon. I'll miss you.”

They have a platonic pair-ending together.

Other Close Friendships and Relationships

Regulus has close friendships with Alcryst and Zelkov (and the Divine One), and paired-ending with them both. Alcryst's is platonic while Zelkov's can be seen as romantic (not specified).

#fire emblem #fire emblem engage #fe engage #fe oc week #fe-oc-week #fe oc #fe engage oc #my oc #fe boucheron #fe lindon #fe ivy

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nysus-temple · 1 year

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ULTRAKILL's Greek Folklore references (2)

Aaaye remember this post? Let's say Sisyphus already came out as a boss and I have quite a bunch of stuff to talk about. I'll focus only on him since everything else was covered in the previous essay.

Just like in the previous essay, BEFORE YOU GO DOWN this is, to no one's surprise, filled with spoilers. While it's true that lore in this game is secondary, if you wanna learn it by yourself when playing it, then save this reading for later. ULTRAKILL is avaible at Steam, it's filled with blood, but it's still a masterpiece, me thinks.

· Small Introduction:

There's many people out there who have already talked about everything that reminds them of the Divine Comedy regarding the game, besides the fact that it takes inspiration in DMC too; but almost no one seems to notice the details that reference Greek folklore, and it's true that they are not THAT important, most likely i'm just imagining references in places where there are actually none, but this is what brainrot does to a girl who- well, is a classical philology student lmao. So wether they are true or not, i'll still will write this thing down or else i'll explode with my thoughts.

· ULTRAKILL's King Sisyphus:

"King Sisyphus has acted in secret until now, amassing an army whose strength and numbers swell, but now there is no need to hide anymore. We have lived in the shadow of Heaven long enough to forget the taste of fear. Now the Sisyphean Insurrectionists prepare for war.

❝ I have heard of Minos beginning a peaceful revolution, but our King Sisyphus knows such pacificity will gain no favor from our cruel captors. He knows that one can only fight power with power, and he shall lead us to freedom.❞

^ Text from a book found in the second level of the Greed Layer.

If you remember Minos' lore, Minos instead decided to do a peaceful revolution, building his own shenanigans in the Lust Layer, but Sisyphus didn't think the same way; he decided to do a revolution too, but it was anything but peaceful.

❝ The Sisyphean Insurrectionists were an army of Husks gathered and trained by King Sisyphus for overthrowing Heaven's control of Hell, freeing the sinners from their eternal torment. […]

Upon the establishment of the Council and subsequent return of peace to Heaven, Gabriel and an army of angels were sent down to crush the insurrection and subjugate Sisyphus' army.

Although their battle was well-fought, the inexperienced Insurrectionist could not match the educated strategy of the angels, who quickly descended upon King Sisyphus with great force, eventually overpowering and killing him, leaving the Insurrectionists without a chain of command.

Left scattered and disoriented, the warriors were easily picked off one by one, their bodies cut apart, leaving behind only the bare essentials to carry on their eternal punishment of hauling heavy boulders up the monuments of mankind's arrogance and greed.

Although the blood of their enemies still stains their bodies and their grasp still clutches their fallen foes, their will and fierce fury only serve as mental torment in knowing how close they were to freedom.❞

^ Terminal data of the Sisyphean Insurrectionists in the game

The Insurrectionists mantain Greek Sisyphus' original punishment, carrying a rock up to the top of a mountain ( n the game, a pyramid) that will eventually fall down again.

(Greek amphora of Sisyphus pushing the rock in the Underworld, meanwhile, Persephone watches over him, making sure that he does not try to avoid his punishment. [Yes the dick is out.])

Now, more interesting details… Greek King Sisyphus wasn't that much liked by the gods since he, wellp, cheated death a couple times and... Screwed up a lot of times too. For context:

(Apollodorus - Bibliotheca) He murdered his guests, which was seen as extremelly horrible since one of the main important things in Ancient Greece was hospitality. And a king who murders his guests isn't that good of a host.

They sent Death (Θάνατος [Thanatos]) to catch him for this main reason. But Sisyphus tricked him and captured him. And since Death being captured meant no people dying, Ares then went to go and stop Sisyphus.

Knowing he was gonna be killed, Sisyphus asked his wife to not give his corpse a proper funeral, and instead to throw him away. After this, he lied to the gods and manipulated them, telling either Persephone or Hades (or both) that his wife disrespected him by not giving him a proper funeral, and they allowed his soul to go back to his corpse.

After Sisyphus had died of old age, is when his punishment starts. He commited so many crimes and yet, the way he felt was never spoken. Even blind and old in the Underworld, he would continue his punishment.

Greek Sisyphus was thrown into the Underworld with a punishment and Greek Minos was turned into a Judge of the Underworld; in this game, Minos' corpse is still used as some kind of Judge… More or else, as I said before. Meanwhile, Sisyphus corpse isn't used at all, it is just imprisoned, with no head, even. Perhaps that has something to do with the Greek Sisyphus being punished instead of turning into a Judge of Hell, or similar, like the Greek Minos was?

Oh, by the way, unlike Minos being blind being due to him being a Judge and Justice is blind; Sisyphus was blinded by greed, so he literally is blinded by gold. Just like how the Greek Minos was a Judge as well, and Greek Sisyphus was a greedy king who killed guests in his palace in order to get their goods, a violation of guest-obligations in Ancient Greece.

❝ To him, fighting an impossible battle with full knowledge of its futility and taking joy in just the act of resistance itself is the ultimate rebellion against the oppressor. ❞

^ Terminal data of Sisyphus' Prime in the game.

"Ah… So concludes the life and times, of King Sisyphus. A fitting end, to an existence defined by futile struggle. Doomed, from the very start. And I don't regret a SECOND of it!" — Sisyphus Prime final lines after being defeated by the player.

Both Greek Sisyphus and ULTRAKILL's Sisyphus are cunning, in Homer's Iliad he's described as the most cunning of the greeks, before Odysseus takes that title. (And, fun fact, Odysseus is considered Sisyphus' son by many tragedy authors! If you remember my other ULTRAKILL essay, you'll remember how I considered the Wrath layer to be an Odyssey reference). In the Odyssey, Sisyphus' punishment is described, but we don't exactly know how he feels. Does he feel regret? Does he not? We can suppose that he does, since that punishment is... Yeah, tiring. But those are just assumptions, so, who knows, perhaps he does not regret anything, just like ULTRAKILL's Sisyphus.

It's true that ULTRAKILL's Sisyphus is most likely based on later-on depictions of the myth, philosophical interpretations and such, but that's not my job, I just ramble.

In any case, Greek Sisyphus even tricked the divine, and ULTRAKILL's Sisyphus fought the divine.

In the end, we can't see none of the two Sisyphus' faces during their punishment, and yet... ❝ One must imagine Sisyphus happy.❞

#this even turned kind of poetic in some way. i'm pretty happy :)#maybe i'll remake the other essay one day. when i have more time to research about Minos #and also do the whole Wrath layer being an Odyssey reference too #but not today. i lack of time.#hopefully i made you get interested in the game #or in another case. that i showed you that this game has more than just DMC references #greek mythology #ultrakill #sisyphus #sisyphus prime

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