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akajustmerry · 19 hours

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clearly you don't care for the "European as a fucking baguette" zionist israeli jews (the ones who are descended from holocaust survivors, mind you), but do you realize how many zionist israeli jews also have heritage from SWANA countries, even lebanon? even palestine? (and no, palestinian jews dont live in gaza as many people on here assume, the vast majority of them and their descendants live in israel). they were forced to flee those countries, zionist and antizionist jews alike, ecen before israel existed. many of these countries removed their right to citizenship in those countries, countries they've lived in forever! there's only around 20 jews left in lebanon as of 2022 when there used to be thousands! so many SWANA countries had many thousands of jews for centuries and today many have a few dozen, or even 0! many of those same countries, like tunisia, continue to destroy and vandalize jewish sites that no longer house their missing jewish people, like how they burned an abandoned synagogue after 7/10. zionists dint force them to do that! israel has many problems and has done many inexcusably terrible things to the palestinians and i am not saying otherwise, but other SWANA countries, like lebanon, aren't blameless in this. neither israel nor zionist ideology forced them to ostracize their own jewish citizens, and to claim otherwise is deny those countries and their people of their own agency. zionism as a concept existed long before israel was created for an obvious reason, even if it was at one point fringe. zionism, the belief in the right to a jewish homeland, would have never been so popular among SWANA jews, and initially truly wasn't at all because they were loyal to their home countries, until those countries proved they would always have a target on their backs and violence towards them was inevitable (see the farhud). zionism wasn't even super popular among those "European as a fucking baguette" jews until the holocaust happened and their "real homelands" tried to wipe them out. even after the holocaust, many jews (some presumably antizionist) tried to return to their hometowns and cities, only to get killed by their formwr neighbours. this happened multiple times, if you care. for many "European as a fucking baguette" zionists, arriving in israel was a last resort since most countries had jewish immigration quotas. you don't think they would've preferred to remain in their more recent homelands??

we're always discarded and shuffled around, which is why i empathize with the palestinians as someone of egyptian jewish heritage, since egypt made refugees of their own large and historic jewish population. i even empathize with you and how you yearn for lebanon. ido that with egypt. just like it isn't fair that egypt's jews faced violence and were forced to become reugees, it isn't fair that they palestinians face the violence they do and that so many of them have become refugees, too. but it is callous of you to accuse zionists of being crass colonialist liars for daring to exist in their current home! there are so many zionists in israel, arabs and jews alike, who want an end to the war and an end to the violence. there are zionists who dont condone violence at all and want palestinians to be their neighbours, living side by side! to say that they all don't care about their home or the people suffering there is unbelievably out of touch! have you spoken to SWANA zionists before? do you even try to see our pov? do you know anything about "standing together" organization??

and if you truly want to "fight zionism", it's also on the international community to make their communities safe for jewish people, because it's that historic lack of safety and rampant slaughter that dumped so many evil colonizing zionists into israel in the first place. jews used to live all over the levant but dont any longer and that isnt the fault of zionism! 3 jews live in syria today when there used to be 10s of 1000s, for another exampl e. if you turned back the clock to the 1940s and ask new zionist refugees (colonisers to you) how they felt about permanently settling in israel, you'd probably be surprised at how many of them would say that they wished they never had to leave their homes either even though they could never go back. it's the audacity for me, thinking theres only one bad actor here. i'm not an israeli of lebanese jewish heritage, most of whom are zionist by no surprise, but i couldn't imagine how they'd feel reading what you posted!! you don't think lebanese israelis (even the terrible zionist ones) don't have a love for the land? is that love negated once you are a zionist?

i jst really, really hate the myth that jews were living perfectly fine in arab countries before israel ruined everything. SWANA non jews (and diaspora) say this all the time! but i have stories in my family and my other SWANA jewish friends have stories in their families that go back generations about how their "fellow arabs" oppressed and mistreated and physically hurt them before 1948 no matter how loyal we were. why do you think mizrahi today are zionists? should we have just stayed put and let our neighbours kill us or should we have bravely fought back like the palestinians do? (this isnt sarcasm. they are brave to me) maybe our grandparents couldve honourably fought back too, but they ahouldnt have had to and neither should the palestinians. violence begets violence. it didnt start with us though. zionists aren't inherently violent, which is why many zionist israelis are trying to end the violence and force a ceasefire too!! how is this hard to understand?

i never said or implied any of what you're arguing here but i am not arguing with a zionist apologist who knows fuck all about me and approaches me in bad faith. fuck off. half of this isn't even true. save your feewings for your diary next time. the only reason i am publishing this is so people can see the kind of shit i get in my askbox daily just for speaking about Palestinian liberation and ending Israeli occupation as a Lebanese person.

#i am so tired #anon #zionism

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azullumi · 3 months

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trying different types of kissing with scaramouche?💔 like forehead, neck kisses, hand or anything at all....

“say yes to heaven” ; wanderer/scaramouche

summary — ultimately, he really does just want to be loved, behind the many layers of him to hide all that yearning and longing. but how can he say it when love, for him, was a synonym to forgiveness; alternatively, different kisses with him, with each one signifying a progressing relationship.

pairing — scaramouche/wanderer (w/ gender-neutral reader) ; could imagine this with either but i wrote this with wanderer in mind

tags — established relationship, fluff, a little bit of angst, not proofread, 1.1k ; ficlet

note — i needed an excuse to write a fic that is just all about kissing him and also comforting him (but still, i hope u like this nonnieee!!)

i. hand

You hold his hand and press small kisses on his knuckles, a little bit ticklish it was for him but he doesn’t retract. The feeling of it makes something in his chest ache with an unfamiliar sensation, and he knows it’s not his heart because he never had any.

You kiss the back of his hand, an intimate gesture, like devotion, like he was something—or someone—that should be adored.

“I am no god.” He was no deity to be worshiped so why are you so gentle to him? He wasn’t made of glass nor is he fragile; he was born from ashes of a burned home, he was carved out of war and winter storms and everything that you could ever pray against, he was a symphony composed of nothing but bad luck and conflicting melodies—he was not the kind people would choose to be around, much less adore.

And as if you bear a part of him in your mind, you understood what he was trying to say, could hear the questions that tormented him, could see the conflicted look on him as he looks at you with a gaze that seems to scrutinize your being when only he is looking for an answer. He tries to look for a crack, a gap in your expression, so that he can look through it and see what you’re really thinking.

“You don’t have to be one to be loved.” You press one last kiss on his hand just as you finished speaking, looking up to him. Indigo blue orbs met yours in a gentle gaze, eyes filled with affection only for the other to drown in. If he could put all that he was feeling, all that he was asking and seeking an answer to, into a simple word, it all condenses to: why?

“Do you still have doubts?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. He opens his mouth only to close it again, looking for the words that he should say but chose to be silent instead. And you smile—not a beaming grin nor a subtle paint on your features, but something gentle and comforting as if you’re assuring him: it’s okay, I understand you. I know you.

“You’re not unloveable.”

Loving him wasn’t the hardest thing to do, it came to you naturally as if breathing but the man thinks otherwise. A burnt child who loves the fire will only hear the fact that he is loveable, people just choose not to.

“How do you know that?” You know him well enough to hear the way his voice trembles at the effort to allow himself to be vulnerable. Long was the fall of the tall and formidable walls that he built around him.

“You’re not unloveable.” You repeat, taking hold of his fingers to kiss his hand once more. “Am I not enough proof of that?”

ii. forehead and cheeks

You cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead, an unspoken language of tenderness in which he took a long time to understand. When love and affection has finally been given to him after decades of yearning, he’s unsure of how to hold it in his hands—does he gently hold it with both? Every bit overwhelms him to the bone, the gratifying yet intense feeling seeps through his being and settles inside of him in a way that it slowly consumes the crevices of his mind, until all that is left of him is nothing but a starved man who only longs for the feeling of your skin against his own.

There was a flicker of warmth in his expression and he closed his eyes as he relished in your kindness, your hands cradling his cheeks with warmth that coaxed his entire existence, your lips pressing against his forehead softly. Then, you started to pepper his face with small kisses and the man could only surrender to your touch, a dance of vulnerability and intimacy as he crumbled into your hold.

No one has ever come this close to him (a closeness that was a stranger to the pages of his past, a tender note composed solely for him), no one and nothing.

You spoke, murmuring against his skin and close to his lips: “Sunshine.” Humor weaves through your tone, teasing the absurdity of the mismatched title and the man who wears it with subtle grace.

“Don’t call me that.” He snarks yet no bite. It’s ironically funny how you use that nickname on him despite him being the complete contrast of it; he stands as the living paradox of the word itself.

The sound of laughter bubbles up in your throat and you answer, “Why not? It suits you perfectly, don’t you think?”

What else should you call the man who grasps the warmth and tender light in his chest only the sun could give? To be with him was to sit in the autumn sunlight, to sleep in the comfort of your sheets when the rain patters against your window, to walk barefoot on the sand even if it feels like shards of glasses against your sole, to be with him was to simply exist; you’ve never met anyone who had the sun for a soul and he has never met anyone who had the stars in their eyes, and while you had the universe etched on the palm of your hands, he has your name engraved on his.

iii. lips

Your lips ghost against his own, albeit in a tantalizing manner, teasing and quite slow—but he wasn’t a patient man.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” He whispers and you don't waver at his straightforwardness, having been used to this note. There was no hostility in his tone, just pure and raw desperation and desire to feel you.

You could imagine the eye roll he would give you had he not had his eyes closed at the moment, could imagine the frown on his expression while he spoke and could imagine it faltering soon when you finally kissed him, slow as if to savor the softness of his lips and how it reminds you of spring; he could not properly express the warmth on his chest at the thought of how you love him when he still tasted of heartache and war.

You part from him but remained close, foreheads pressed against one another, breathing heavily, and looking into each other’s eyes. You wanted to tell him that you will find him in every lifetime, but the silence between you two was enough to convey such strong affections that you could hear him respond: And I will love you in each one.

(And he somehow finds himself thinking at the same, this is what he deserves. He’d do these, these vulnerable moments where he lays himself bare for you to touch and hold even if you’ll see the scars and cracks on his skin, the falling and getting hurt despite the fear, the burning and constant searching for something, he’ll do it all over again—if it’s you.)

If someone were to ask him what forgiveness tastes like, he would utter your name—everything that he has ever longed for came in the form of you. And he fears that this longing will last forever even while you’re here, that this longing will grow even when he crumbles to dust, that this longing will outlive this body and weave life into the earth that swallows your existence.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche x reader #wanderer scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin impact wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff #wanderer genshin #azul.writes

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obsessivevoidkitten · 7 months

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The Deer's Prince(ss)

Male Deertaur Yandere x Feminized Male Wolf Hybrid Reader (CW: Noncon, feminization, misgendering, inhuman genitalia, breeding, fingering, overstimulation, reader fucked out of their mind, chasing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.1k

You were sprinting through the forest, running from the prince who owned you.

Under normal circumstances, you would have been able to move a lot more stealthily and gracefully, but continued captivity had dulled your senses and abilities.

When the kingdom of the deertaurs finally won the decades long war against the wolf folk they demanded many things in the treaty to end the war.

One of the things they demanded was a princess to marry their son, marriage was a typical way to seal an agreement of peace.

But there was no princess, instead they took you. And Prince Inthil had made you into his princess. Treating you like a dainty flower instead of the proud wolf hybrid that you were! Going so far as to even dress you in frilly dresses and address as a girl… and bed you as one too…

Having had as much as you could handle you fled. You tore off the female clothing and ran naked into the woods. Treaty be damned, you didn’t deserve this!

But being pampered as a fragile little lady had made your footfalls heavy and clumsy, it may have been enough to outrun a human, but certainly not Prince Inthil. His deceptively lean body was fast and powerful, four legs carrying him like he was the wind itself.

Suddenly you felt a sharp yank on your arm. You shuddered as Inthil pulled you close, you had thought you were still a bit ahead of the deer man.

His creepy grin looked even more sinister under the light of the moon, his long blond hair softly glowing, and his eyes looking at you with twisted adoration and amusement.

If you had only been looking at his face you may have mistaken him for a beautiful woman. But his muscles, body hair on his human half, and antlers on his head proved otherwise.

“Hello my lady~ You mustn’t run off like that, it is far too dangerous for a little girly to be running around in the woods at night by herself! If you wanted a moonlit stroll, I would have accompanied you~”

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he was powerful. He lifted you up and pressed you against a tree.

“If my father knew my wife ran off like that it could start a war! Don’t worry princess, I won’t tell. After all, I am sure it just slipped your mind to ask me to come with you, RIGHT?!”

As he said that last word he roughly pulled you forward then slammed you back against the rough bark. It did not hurt much, but you gasped in surprised.

Prince Inthil took this opportunity and kissed you deeply. Hungrily. His tongue swirling around yours as it invaded your mouth.

You shivered. He finally broke the kiss, leaving you both panting for oxygen.

“Are you cold? You’re shaking so much. I know what will warm you up.”

He stroked your cheek tenderly, but you knew what that look and tone of voice meant.

You growled, baring your teeth as your tail bristled and your ears moved back, almost flat, against your head.

“Awe, I bet a nice breeding will help your sour mood too…”

There were no clothes for him to pull off of you this time. He laid you down on the cool forest floor. You started to move but he stomped a hoof on you with enough force for you to get the memo.

You did what was expected of you. Keeping your face down you arched your ass up.

“My bitch must be in heat to present her pussy so nicely for me~” He cooed in his sickeningly sweet voice.

You were sniffing as tears rolled down your face uncontrollably. You were a man and you didn’t want this, what had you ever done to anyone to deserve being forced to be a girl and raped constantly.

“Don’t cry my love. I always make love with you gently, I know how delicate you are~”

You didn’t care how gentle he was, it was still against your will and sometimes forced with a bit of pain. Like just now when he had stomped his hoof on you.

You could feel his slimy cock rubbing up against your hole, eager to slide into you, but he made himself resist the lure of your insides for a moment while he prepped you.

He did this by using the tip of his prick to massage your entrance, and lather it in precum.

Then he slowly, bit by bit, slid into your ass. He gasped as he entered you.

“G-gods princess , your cunt is amazing~”

You just fit him so well, it was like sliding into a warm glove made specifically for his 10in cock.

He was large and powerful, and like always he had to resist just pounding into you with reckless abandon. It took all his power not to.

But he had to make sure you were treated like the frail lady that you were, it wouldn’t do for him to harm a princess, it would be unthinkable.

So instead he savored it, and eventually his careful ministrations were met with your beautiful little whimpers and moans of pleasure.

You always tried to stifle them away from him, but you never managed to.

His cock was kissing your walls so tenderly, touching that spot inside you that he always seemed to find.

Prince Inthil managed to coax several orgasms out of you, making you pant and gasp with each thrust into your overstimulated body. You couldn’t help humping into your hand, desperately seeking another release as his balls finally emptied into you.

“You make such lovely sounds when we make love~”

He picked up your cum leaking body and held you close, you were so fucked out that you couldn’t do anything, your arms were like jelly from being in that pose for so long.

You muttered something incomprehensible and went limp as he put you over his shoulders. He chose to interpret the noises as a declaration of love.

“Awe, I love you too. I knew all you needed was a good breeding~”

The prince kissed the top of your head softly before smiling to himself. He just had the most wonderful idea. He’d quite like to hear those cute sounds of yours on the way home.

As he slowly hauled you back home he slid a couple fingers into your cum-lubed ass, eliciting more of those cute little gasps and moans, albeit tired and weaker ones, from your pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry darling, when we get back we can mate some more before I clean you up."

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #male reader #feminized male reader #male yandere x male reader #my ocs #yandere boyfriend #yandere husband #yandere prince #yandere royalty #My OC Inthil #yandere imagine #yandere scenario

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authorhjk1 · 4 months

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A request for Sana's delicious tiddies please!

https://www.instagram.com/p/C0dZRXrvuyU/?igshid=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

The Roman goddess

Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader

The museum you are strolling through is called Castel Sant' Angelo. It used to be tomb for the Roman Emperor Hadrian and his family. Now, it's a very well known museum in Rome.

You admire the architecture and the sculptures standing around. The ceilings are quite high. All the walls are painted, the gorgeous colors bringing the ancient scenes to life.

You are not only here for fun though. It started around two years ago. Your career as an author. Until December two years ago, you did write, but it was more for yourself. You finally made your breakthrough with your first novel "The Roman eagle", about a lowly born Roman legionary, who rises through the ranks. You never thought this would make you big. And you didn't expect so many people wanting more. You didn't plan on it, but that one book is slowly turning into a series.

The second book came out at the end of last year. "The curse of Neptune". And now, you are working on your third. Since you didn't plan on writing a series, you have started to introduce several main characters with their own life stories.

You are now sitting on your third part. Not having a title yet, you keep wandering around the museum. You have already written quite a few pages, but the new character you want to introduce is hard to picture. It's supposed to be a woman. A woman, who is deceitful and ambitious, not caring about the ones around her. She only married her husband for his status and is now aspiring to climb the ranks. With or with out him.

You enter another room. The ceiling is high as well. The painted scenes show several different parts of day to day life from the Romans and their gods. The center of the room is reserved for a tall, almost life-size statue. Being an expert in history, especially Roman history, you can tell immediately that that's Venus. The goddess of love.

Wanting to have a closer look, you step forward. But your gaze is caught by the woman who is standing between you and the piece of art, her back turned towards you.

Her posture is flawless and you can't help but admire how straight her back looks, due to the white high heels she is wearing. The black skirt is quite long, almost reaching the floor. As you walk past her right, you see that it has a large slit in the front. Her naked leg is more than just captivating.

Glancing at the statue, you've always wondered how Venus would look like, if she was real. It feels like you might be able to paint a picture now.

The woman's white top is highlighting her chest, the fabric stretching over her tits. The turtle neck and the tied back hair make her look elegant and strict. Like a teacher or a rich man's wife.

Standing next to her, you smell her scent. Definitely flowers. Maybe roses? You were never the flower expert. Would Venus smell like this too? Roses are always considered the flowers of love. The idea doesn't seem too far fetched.

You notice that the young woman is standing quite close to the statue, holding a brochure in her hand. Usually, knowing about history isn't really a great turn on for women. But being in a museum, you might give it a try. She does have that classy look. So maybe she could be interested?

"Art and war should always be studied from a healthy distance."

You see her react. Not her face, since you are still standing two steps behind her, but the slight turn of her head. You could swear the corners of her mouth turned upwards, before she turns back towards the statue.

One step. Two steps. Her heels disrupt the silence in the otherwise empty room.

"A lot of people think that Venus and Aphrodite are the same goddess."

You were able to take a quick peek at the brochure she is holding. The people who work here should do a better job.

"But they have quite a couple of differences."

You wait a couple of moments. She doesn't say something or turns around. But she didn't run, which is at least a good start.

"While Aphrodite is the goddess of love, beauty and sex, Venus has to offer more than just that."

You walk behind the young woman, starting to feel comfortable, talking about a topic you are very familiar with.

"She actually started out as the goddess of gardens and vineyards. Before the Romans merged her with her Greek counterpart. And even then, she represents not just lust and sex. But also motherhood. You could say that she is a more loyal woman."

You glance at the woman, whom you are standing next to now. Her left side profile almost makes you stutter. She really must be a goddess.

Knowing that you might never meet someone like her ever again, you decide to shoot your shot. What's the worst that could happen? She could scream and run away. But it's only the two of you anyway.

"Which form is the one you can more easily identify with? The Roman, or the Greek one?"

You stand next to her, your shoulders almost touching. Turning your head towards her you almost whisper.

"Loyal? Or promiscuous?"

A smirk plays around the brunette's lips. She is not running yet.

But to your huge disappointment, she raises her right arm, her hand on the same hight as her chest. You are only distracted for a second, before you see the golden ring on her finger. It's decorated with a huge diamond in the center and a couple of smaller ones all around.

Of course she is married. A woman like her? Come on. You sigh internally. You should've figured.

"Promiscuous."

You were about to turn around as you hear her sweet voice. It takes you a second to realize what she says.

"I think I would be more like Aphrodite."

Is she saying you still have a shot? Even when she just showed you that she is married?

"Tell me more. I'm not sure if I can make a decision yet."

And she wants you to keep talking?

You take a deep breath, not wanting to screw this up.

"Venus has a more elevated status than Aphrodite. Her arguably most famous human son is Aeneas. The man who established Rome. A lot of emperors' wifes identified with Venus."

You see the woman tug a strand of her brown hair behind her ear.

"And you are saying that the Greek form wasn't as important?"

It's the first time she actually looks at you. Her beautiful features make her look way more elegant than from the side. Her lipstick makes her look stricter than she might usually would. You can tell that she is Asian, but not from which country.

"She was important. But not in the same way as Venus. She did have her own celebrations though."

The brunette is now fully turning towards you. It takes a lot of willpower to not look at her chest. It's almost as if she could sense your struggle. She places her hands on her hips, barely leaning forward. It makes her tits look just a little bigger.

"What kind of celebration?"

Her voice has changed. Until now, she spoke quiet. Just like someone should, while visiting a museum. But she is now whispering. Just like you did before. Her captivating gaze makes you stare into her eyes.

"A big part of the celebrations were Aphrodite's priestesses. The Greeks used a suiting form of worship for the goddess of love."

You take a step closer. Your shoe grazes hers. The smell of roses becomes a little stronger.

"They slept with her priestesses. That's how they worshipped her."

The brunette is unable to hold back her chuckle.

"And you are sure you didn't just make that up?"

For a moment her cute side shines through. She looks adorable when she smiles.

"I didn't. You can look it up."

"I don't want to though. I like listening to you."

"Well..."

You are too surprised to give a good answer. And there is not much more to say about the topic anyways.

The brunette seems to have caught up on that.

"What do you think about worshiping her now?"

"What?"

Your surprised face makes her almost moan out. You looked quite confident while hitting on her. The fact that you are getting shy is a turn on for her.

"There aren't many people here. And I think we should do it in front of the statue. You know? To pay our respects."

A million reasons why you shouldn't do this rush through your head. More than enough to say no. And yet, you can't help but catch yourself, leaning forward.

Your lips meet and you can immediately feel her hands wrap around your back. The kiss turns sloppy very fast. Pure lust and want radiate from her lips.

Once she breaks away, you can see that her lipstick is a little smeared. She seems to have recognized the worry in your eyes.

"Don't worry about my husband. Didn't Aphrodite constantly cheat on hers too?"

She got a point there. She did very much so.

Her lips meet yours once again. And this time your hands start to explore her body as well.

You still can't believe you've managed to come this far. She is probably the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. She could be the human form of the goddess.

"How bad do you want my tits?"

The fact that she caught you doesn't even bother you. Your mind too focused on taking in her flawless body.

"Really bad."

Her lips meet your neck, definitely leaving a hickey there.

"Show me."

You start pulling at the white fabric, getting it out of her skirt. Your hands dive underneath as the brunette locks lips with you again.

The smoothness of her skin is intoxicating. Her tight midriff feels well toned and cared for. Your fingertips reach her bra as you continue your quest.

Her hands are not idle either. You feel one of them opening the button of your pants, while the other has taken a fistful of your shirt. It's as if she is pulling you into her. Her hand sneaks into your pants, her fingers searching for the waistband of your underwear.

At the same time, you've finally gotten rid of her bra. It slides down her clothed frame, before it falls to the ground. It's white.

Her tits feel amazing. They are just as smooth as her skin. You start to knead them, still unable to understand how you got here.

She is a goddess. How are you able to stand in some museum, while you play with her tits? A mystery you don't even want to uncover. Some things are better left unknown.

The brunette's hand has found it's way into your boxers by now. Her slim fingers dance along the length of your shaft.

A moan escapes her lips. It's one of the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard. You didn't know that a person could sound so perfect.

"That cock of yours...."

She trails off, slightly biting your lower lip.

"It feels so big."

Her words make you even harder. A normal reaction to a goddess like beauty telling you that you have a big dick. Something you thought you would never ever experience in your life.

Your hands become a little rougher as your animalistic instincts slowly take over. You never felt so uncontrollable before.

Pinching her nipples, you hope for another moan. You get one. She moans into your mouth, closing her hand around your cock.

"I want this in my mouth."

You feel her pulling away. Your hands regretfully leave her tits and her top. But when she starts to kneel down, a wave of pure happiness washes through your body.

An excited tingle rushes through every fiber of your being as you watch her pulling down your pants. Your boxers following quickly after.

A gasp escapes her mouth, when she sees your cock for the first time.

"My husband isn't even half as big."

With a big smile, her face turns into something very cute. She gives your tip a kiss.

"A cock worthy of fucking my tits."

Her words turn you on even more. Her lips slowly wrap around your tip.

It takes her a while to pick up the pace. But once the brunette is there, her blowjob is quick and effective. You remember that you are still in a museum, standing pants down in front of a statue of Venus.

You are not a very religious person. But in that moment, you pray to that goddess, thanking her for this incredible experience.

Your prayer is interrupted by the brunette's slurping sounds. Her wet blowjob has ruined her lipstick completely by now. She looks so hot with your cock in her mouth. She places both her hands flat on your hips, before starting to fuck her face onto your cock.

You can't help but let out a loud groan, your hand automatically wanders to the back of her head. You don't start to dictate the pace. But you feel her head going a little faster.

With a woman like her, it's obvious that you won't last long. Especially if said woman fucks her face with your cock. You feel your orgasm approaching. The familiar tug in your lower regions makes you groan.

The brunette seems to have felt you twitch inside her mouth. She moves away, letting your dick fall out off her lips.

"You have a very delicious cock, you know?"

Not waiting for an answer, she starts to pull up her top. It's bunched up above her breasts. You are finally able to see them now. They seem perfectly shaped. Flawless like the ones of a goddess. Not too small, but not too big either. Just perfect handfuls.

"Try not to cum so fast."

Her wink turns her into something cute for just a moment. Then, her goddess like aura is back.

You feel her soft mounds wrap around you. She presses them together, making your cock disappear between them. As soon as she seems ready, you start to thrust upwards. You see her bite her lip as your tip appears in her cleavage.

Fucking her tits feels amazing. It feels better than anything you've experienced before. There is no comparison at all. Her soft mounds feel like they are made for you. Her warmth makes you feel hot and horny.

Eventually, she starts to stick out her tongue. It touches your tip whenever you thrust upwards. The new wetness on your tip makes you remember that your orgasm is close. It also helps with sliding trough her chest.

You have to hold onto her hair again, unable to stand by yourself.

"Your cock feels so good."

You hear her sigh as she stares down at it.

She suddenly looks up, opening her mouth, while sticking her tongue out. Her spit slowly starts to drip down her tongue. You watch as she drools all over her own cleavage. Her saliva starts to coat your cock. It makes her tits feel even smoother.

The young woman let's out another moan.

"I bet you would feel so good in my pussy."

You close you eyes, imagining yourself inside of her. The thought alone, almost makes you orgasm.

"My husband is so small, I'm practically a virgin."

She continues her talking, knowing what it does to you.

"I've never felt the pleasure of someone just pounding into me. I want to feel it. I want to feel how you rearrange my guts."

You hiss out, unable to silence the pleasure that is building up in your system. Only a little longer. You only want to hold out a little longer.

"I have such a tight pussy. You would love it."

Your grip in her hair strengthens as you approach your climax.

"That's it. Cum on my tits. Make Venus proud."

You glance at the statue for just a second. It feels like the woman on her knees is the real goddess. A beauty, too much for you to handle.

"I'm gonna cum."

You grunt out, unable to hold on any longer.

"That's good, honey. Cum on my tits. Use them like a canvas."

You groan one last time.

"Give me all of it."

You explode in her cleavage. Your cum hits her throat and chin, while some coats her tits. It feels like this is the strongest orgasm you've ever had. More cum than usual leaves your body.

In the end, her tits are covered in your semen, just like she wanted. Some is dripping down her chin. You see that her hands didn't get away without some, either. A few drops of your cum stain the big diamond on her ring. She notices it as well.

You watch in awe as she starts to lick her ring clean, after letting your spent cock leave her tits.

"Wow. That's a great load."

She scoops up some of your cum with her finger.

"And it tastes good, too."

She licks it off, before looking at you.

"What do you say? Right here? Or a hotel room?"

The option to say no doesn't even enter your brain. Still afraid of getting caught, you choose the hotel.

The brunette gets off her knees. You watch her pull her top down and putting the hem back into her skirt. Slowly, your cum starts to leave wet spots on the fabric. You pick up her bra, offering it to her.

"Keep it. Maybe you are lucky and you can complete the set."

With those words still lingering in your mind, she takes your hand, leading you towards the exit.

You've never head a clear picture of Venus or Aphrodite in your mind. Now you do. It's the woman who is holding your hand, her chest covered with your cum.

The fact that she is taking you to a hotel is making you hard again.

With one last glance at the statue, you finally know how to continue your next book.

The third part "The Roman goddess" will certainly become a bestseller.

________

Thank you for the ask. I unfortunately don't have the time to write much more.

The introduction seems a little long to me. Please keep sending short requests guys, I'm trying to shorten the part where I set the scene. With limited success as you can see.

Sana in that outfit definitely deserves a proper story, which I'm unable to write at the moment. I hope you are satisfied with that. I might be able to write the follow up somewhere in the future.

Have a nice day!

#kpop #kpop smut #anon #kpop girls #ask #kpop gg #male reader #sana minatozaki #sana #twice #sana twice #sana smut #twice smut

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romanoffsdarling · 6 months

Text

Time To Say (Goodbye)

Pairing: Daughter-in-Law!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s something that should have never started in the first place, something you should have stopped long ago. Why does something so wrong have to feel so right?

Word Count: 3,339

Warnings: G!P Wanda, cheating/infidelity, slight daddy kink, oral (R and Wanda receiving), possessive sex, angst. 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: Sorry if this is trash… I haven’t really written for G!P before.

“How did your date go?”

It’s an innocent question, borne out of genuine interest in your personal life, but you couldn’t stop the smallest of winces from flitting across your face. The feeling of burning eyes boring into the side of your head doesn’t help things, but you meet the gentle gaze of your daughter steadily, a wane smile curling your lips upward.

“It went fine,” you reply, placing your fork back down on the placemat. Lest she notice the shakiness of your hand. “I had a great time.”

“Will you be seeing him again?”

The husky voice, made even huskier by the accent slipping through the cracks, interrupts whatever your daughter had been about to say. A certain note of sharpness laid within it that you could pick out instantly, but your daughter seemed wholly unaware of. Instead, she offers you an encouraging smile too, clearly agreeing with her wife. Knowing that if you didn’t look at her, if you didn’t even try to create a semblance of normalcy, then your daughter, for all of her obliviousness, would pick up on something— that being the last thing you want.

Meeting darkened emerald with your own steady gaze is a test unto itself— staring into the eyes of Wanda Maximoff, your daughter’s wife, and answering a question about your dating life is one thing, but staring at the woman you’ve secretly been having an affair with?

An entirely different matter.

“I don’t know.” Honesty is the best possibility, right? Even though you think that scheme of rules had abandoned you long ago. “He was nice, but I don’t know if he’d want to see me again.”

Your daughter scoffs. “Please, he’d be an absolute idiot to not want to take you out again.” She shifts in her seat, gesturing towards her wife. “Right, Wanda?”

Wanda, who had been staring at you with an unreadable expression, seemingly softens, but you could see the war being waged within her eyes, as she smiles gently. “An absolute fool.” Emerald eyes trace over your face. “Only an imbecile would be able to let you go.”

You shift in your seat, well aware of the double nuance hidden within her words, but your daughter continues forward with the conversation, easily switching subjects to something that happened to her at work the previous week, and you’ve never been more relieved for a shift then right now.

Even though, as you begin to slowly finish your dinner, listening half heartedly to your daughters rambling, you could feel Wanda’s gaze still steadily boring into you. A heat building between the two of you that you know she wouldn’t let go of— no matter what.

You should have known that she’d corner you when your daughter was otherwise preoccupied upstairs, your own attention being on finishing up the dishes.

A warm body suddenly pressing you into the counter, heated lips tracing across your neck, almost makes you drop the plate in your grasp, but you’re able to steady yourself just enough to stop that inevitable disaster from occurring.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you went on a date?” The words are snarled against your pulse point, teeth digging into the sensitive flesh there. No doubt leaving a mark that’d you have for the next few days as a reminder. “That you let someone else ever think they’d be able to have you?”

A small sound escapes your throat before you can stop it. The feeling of Wanda pressed so firmly against your back: hands gripping your hips, a familiar bulge making its home against your ass, and the soothing tongue that’s gently lapping over yet another mark she had just made.

“Answer me,” she hisses, warm breath hot over the shell of your ear. “I want to know why the fuck you thought I’d ever let anyone else have you?”

You shake your head. “We can’t do this, Wanda. What we’ve been doing—” A gasp is wrenched from your lips when Wanda grinds her erection against you, her blatant need for you apparent. “It’s wrong. What we’re doing is wrong.”

Wanda huffs out a laugh. “That’s not what you were saying when I had you screaming on this very counter last weekend. In fact—” She steps closer, pulling you impossibly tighter against her body. “I think you wanted nothing more than for me to continue.”

Turning in her grasp, you’re soon face-to-face with Wanda’s smoldering gaze, the darkness from earlier making its appearance blatantly known. “My daughter, your wife, is upstairs right now.” You glance up, trying to hear any note of disturbance. Fortunately not finding any. “We can’t do this anymore, Wanda. I can’t keep betraying my daughter like this.”

“How many times have I told you that I’d divorce her for you? How many fucking times have I told you that I’m completely in love with you?” She steps forward, forehead pressing against your own, voice dropped to a heated whisper. “You’re the love of my life. No one, not even your daughter, will ever be able to compare.”

You flinch at the reminder of your child. “We’ve been over this. You love what I do for your body, Wanda. You don’t love me, I’m over a decade older than you, much more than that let’s be honest, and there’s nothing you can say that’ll change that fact.” You run a frazzled hand through your hair. “Why can’t you accept that?”

“Because you mean everything to me.”

“And she means everything to me.”

A snarl curls her lips upward, clearly displeased by the turn that this conversation had taken, but you’re well aware that Wanda wouldn’t simply let this be— that she wouldn’t just let you go. Not after everything you’ve been through together.

While you firmly believed that Wanda didn’t love you in the manner she said she did— however much it may cause your heart to flutter whenever she said it— you do believe that she felt a bone-deep attraction to you. That she craved you in the same exact way that you did for her.

Instinctually.

Carnally.

Like the very basis of your beings were meant to be united in an intrinsic way— hence the passionate love affair that you’ve been part of for the last two years.

“Get on your knees.” The command shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, not with how worked up Wanda clearly was, but you still couldn’t stem the shocked expression from making an appearance on your face. “You heard me, baby. I want you to get on your knees for me.”

“Wand—”

A snarl interrupts your rebuttal, surprisingly strong hands gripping your biceps in an iron hold. “No,” she hisses. “This is not the time to argue, this is not the time to make up fucking excuses on why we shouldn’t do this, we only have a little while left before she comes back down here. I’m not going to waste the time I have with you by fighting over something we clearly both want.” Wanda tugs at your arms, showing you clearly what she wants. “Get on your knees. Now.”

Knowing that there’s no use in denying her any further, not with the way your own arousal is currently painting you thighs beneath your dress, you follow her command, eliciting a contented sigh from her. With slightly shaking hands, you quickly make work of both her belt and shimmy her tights jeans down her legs, instantly being met by her hard length.

“Come on, baby,” Wanda coos, threading her fingers through the strands of your hair. “You know what I want.”

Without preamble, or any form of warning, you take Wanda completely into your mouth— from tip until your nose brushes across her pubic bone— delighting in the harsh gasp she lets out, the hand not in your hair steadying herself on the counter behind you. The taste of Wanda, her familiar scent, entrances you completely, surrounding you wholeheartedly. Bobbing up and down, mindful to keep your lips completely sealed to deter any possible noise from escaping, the feeling of Wanda stretching out your throat due to her girth is a heady drug you’ve grown addicted to.

“Fuck,” Wanda curses, hands tightening in your hair. Dragging you up and down her cock, forcing herself further into the back of your throat. “You’re doing so good, baby. Taking me so well. Better than anyone ever has.”

Your nails dig into the backs of her thighs, tongue lashing across the sensitive head, tasting the pre-cum that’s been steadily escaping since you started, the familiar salty, and somehow slightly sweet, flavor making you suck even harder. The action causes Wanda’s hips to jerk harshly, gagging you due to how deep her cock goes, but only a filthy groan is what she gives you in form of an apology— darkened emerald eyes watching you with rapt attention.

Feeling the way she’s beginning to jerk, the way that her hips were beginning to stutter in their momentum, causes you to become aware of how close she is to cumming. Which is why, when Wanda pulls out of your mouth entirely, a small hiss leaving her lips due to the difference in temperature, you’re fairly confused.

With a hand on your neck, Wanda drags you upward, lips descending to filthily meet yours in a twisted embrace. Her tongue meeting yours in a tangle, getting reacquainted with one another, before her teeth nips at your bottom lip when she pulls away. A thin trail of saliva connects you both, so close to one another you weren’t even sure whose air you were breathing anymore.

“You’re so perfect for me,” Wanda murmurs, slender fingers trailing down you face. “The perfect girl for daddy.”

Your thighs clench together at the nickname— one that isn’t used often, as you’re still embarrassed by it at times, but you’ve slowly come to terms with it, how hot it makes Wanda feel, and the erotic thrill it sends down your spine whenever you utter it in the heat of passion.

Wanda’s hands snake down to the back of your legs, placing you so you’re seated on the cold, marble countertop, dark emerald eyes tracing over the expanse of exposed skin that’s at her disposal. Hiking up your dress until it’s situated around your waist, Wanda drinks in the sight of your bare legs, until they settle on her prize. A heated expression taking over the briefly surprised one.

“Not wearing any panties, baby?” A slender finger trials down your slit, parting your folds and barely dipping into the wetness she finds there. “Naughty girl.”

“Only for you.”

A wordless cry is ripped from your throat when Wanda descends onto your clit with a ravenous hunter, tongue lashing against the bundle of sensitive nerves. Drinking you in as if you were her favorite drink, hands making sure you were kept wide open for her. When she lowers herself further, giving her the perfect angle to dip her tongue into your opening, a small keen escapes you. Brief panic settling within your chest as it echoes across the kitchen— not that it stops Wanda in the slightest. In fact, at the confirmation that she was making you feel good, she sped up her movements. Working further and further into your tunnel, small noises of her own, muffled by your cunt, showcasing how affected she is by your taste and the feel of you.

Your climax washes over you quickly, both by how long it’s been since she’s touched you, and the fervency in which she’s currently doing so. Barely being able slap a hand over your mouth before you scream out your release, gushing into Wanda’s waiting mouth, hips flexing and bucking against her solid hold, you feel the tremors make their way down your spine, sending a pleasant chill through you.

Wanda only pulls away once she’s helped you through the aftershocks, face slick with your wetness, but the familiar fire once again scorches you through you at the look she levels you with.

“I need to have you,” Wanda murmurs, standing to settle between your still parted legs. Her cock, that looks almost painfully hard, resting against you, rubbing slightly against your clit, as she situates herself. “We don’t have a lot of time left. Not enough for me to worship you the way you deserve to be worshiped.” She looks almost put out by that. “But, I’m still going to fuck you in a way that only I will ever be able to replicate. Make you mine in the way that you’ve made me yours. Think you can handle that, baby?”

As an answer, you loosely wrap your arms around her neck, tugging her into a brief kiss. You’re well aware you didn’t have enough time left, that idle chitchat would only shave it sway, which is something Wanda seems to register at last. Within the next moment, she’s buried to the hilt in you, your walls stretching to accommodate the familiar length. Tucking your head into her neck, to muffle some of your moans as Wanda begins to thrust, you grapple at her back, nails digging into the leather of her jacket, as Wanda seems to lose herself in the feel of you.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh permeates the air, an occasional grunt or moan intercepting it, and you’d normally be concerned by how much noise you’re making, especially since your daughter is still in the house, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when Wanda fills you so completely, when she plays your body like her favorite instrument.

“Keep fucking me, baby,” you whine, grappling her shoulders, a small tremor making itself known. “I’m so close.”

You were drunk on pleasure as Wanda kept driving her hips forward, one slender finger roughly rubbing your clit in time with each thrust. It’s of no surprise that you find your release quickly after, gushing over Wanda’s cock.

Something that causes her to groan, no doubt feeling the way your inner walls began to constrict around her, trying to milk her for everything she’s worth.

“I’m not going to last much longer, baby,” Wanda gasps, lowering her head to your shoulder. Hips flexing as she tries to stem her climax to extend her pleasure just a bit more, to keep feeling you for just a bit longer. “Going to fill you up.”

With a stuttering thrust, a sharp groan escaping her, Wanda bites down onto the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck, as her climax hits her— jets of her cum painting your inner walls white, warming you up.

Once her own shuddering dies down, when she’s resting limply against your body, your hands gently tracing down her still quivering back, does her voice finally break the silence between you. “I don’t know if I can give this up.” She pulls you back, emerald eyes pleading with you. “I don’t know if I can give you up.”

A bitter smile twists your lips upward, the reminder that Wanda wasn’t truly yours, and that you weren’t truly hers, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“It’ll be best for everyone,” you reply, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ears. Heart cracking at the way she leans into the gentle touch. “You owe it to yourself, and my daughter, to try and make your marriage work.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“It will.” It’s an affirmation, one you didn’t particularly put your entire heart behind. Something you didn’t want to dwell too much on. “Anyone would be lucky to have you, Wanda.”

Tears gather in emerald eyes eyes, her head dropping to rest against your chest, as sadness swells between the both of you.

“The only person I want to have me is you.”

You press a kiss to the top of her head, closing your eyes to abate your own tears. “I know.”

“Are you going to come up and visit us during the holidays, mom?”

Your daughter’s hopeful face twists the knife deeper into your heart, but you offer her a gentle smile in return.

“If my schedule allows for it.” You open your arms to accept the final hug she wanted to give you, thankful that you had half a mind to clean yourself up further after you tryst in the kitchen. “I’d love to come visit, you know that.”

At her happy squeal, she finally detached from you, shifting to fully stand on the other side of your doorway, where Wanda had been silently waiting for the last ten minutes, emerald eyes never straying far from you, and you offer her one last smile.

“Drive safe you two,” you warn, what you hope is a good natured expression on your face. “I want you two to be intact when I see you next.”

Your daughter laughs brightly at that, already moving to unload all of her bags in the car, leaving just you and Wanda standing on the porch. A tension falling between you two instantly.

“It was nice to see you, Wanda,” you say, trying to be diplomatic about this entire thing. “I hope the journey back won’t be too long.”

Wanda’s lips thin. “Don’t—” She turns to look back, making sure your daughter is still getting situated in the car. “Don’t treat me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re saying goodbye.”

You shake your head, a bitter feeling welling within your chest. “Aren’t I?” At the clear look that she’s about to rebuke your statement, you continue. “We’ve both agreed that you need to work on your marriage, Wanda. That you need to try and fix what’s been broken. To do that you can’t see me, and I can’t see you. It’d only end us right back where we started.”

“No,” Wanda hisses, making sure to keep her voice low. “I can’t not talk to you, can’t not see you, I won’t be able to survive.”

Your hand twitches at your side, wanting nothing more than to reach out and caress her cheek. Take away the anguish, the grief, that’s slowly settling over her beautiful face. “You’ll have to, Wanda. For the time being you’ll have to.” Taking a step back, deeper into the house, you almost sob at Wanda’s innate need to follow you. “We’ll see each other again. Once we’ve gotten one another out of our systems, once we’ve learned to be near one another without being together, we’ll see one another again.”

Wanda’s anguish is palpable to you, the pain shown so clearly within her emerald eyes, but you can’t back down. Not from this, not when you’ve finally found the strength to do what you should have done from the start.

The honking of the car in your driveway pulls your attention from her to your daughter’s impatient face. “You have to go.” You don’t turn back to her, knowing that if you saw her pain again you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. “You have a long drive ahead of you.”

There’s a brief best of silence, wherein Wanda clearly waits for you to look at her, to do something, but you can’t. Not now. So, after another moment, she makes a noise low in her throat, almost like a wounded animal, and barely mutters out. “Goodbye.”

Something begins to rot in your chest, but you only allow a sad smile to twist your lips.

“Goodbye, Wanda.”

And, with that, she steps away from you, getting into the car, and driving off, disappearing down the road and out of your life for the foreseeable future. It’s only once you’re sure they’re gone, when you’re safely hidden behind the closed and locked door of your house, that you allow the tears to come, for your own anguish and grief to come to the surface.

You know what you did was the right thing. That it’d be better for yourself and Wanda for the long run, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Nor did it stop you from wishing that she’d come back.

#wanda maximoff x reader #avengers imagine #mcu imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #time to say (goodbye)

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shu-glue · 10 months

Text

devilspawn!

alhaitham x gn!reader

wherein Alhaitham, despite being deeply and irrevocably in love with you, thinks it's rather immature to be picking fights with a child whose age hasn't even reached double digits yet. until he meets said child himself. notes: gn!reader, written in lowercase, reader is implied to be the traveler but can be read otherwise, alhaitham is whipped for reader, reader hates timmie so if you adore the kid i'm very sorry, two curse words (reader says ass and alhaitham mentally says little shit)

alhaitham loves you a lot. he really does. he rarely ever says the three magic words, and for the most part, it's fine on your end because he expresses his deep affection for you through his actions.

sometimes, he'll say 'i love you' through quiet but powerful hugs after he comes home from a long, grueling day in the Akademiya. other times, he'll whisper 'i love you' as he hands you a small trinket or even a book you've mentioned in passing, one he bought just earlier when he saw said item in a stall while on an assignment. he'll call you 'beloved' through massaging your shoulders after training, and he'll tell you how much he adores you through the many times you spent basking in each other's presence in comfortable silence.

he'll walk with you to the ends of the Teyvat if it means staying by your side, however…

"love," alhaitham shakes his head, "you're a… fully grown adult. the one you want to 'crush under the heavy hand that is loss', is a child. my love, a child."

now, alhaitham is no stranger to the game that is TCG, Genius Invocation, the Card Game. the only times he, kaveh, tighnari, and cyno will meet up are when they're all free, fancying a drink, and cyno wants to try out another new card he has recently obtained.

in all honesty, your partner couldn't for the life of him understand the hype about this card game. he was by no means an amateur - he has won enough games to be considered an official TCG player, despite only borrowing decks from kaveh, and he is the only one able to actually last more than 5 rounds against cyno in a single session at lambad's.

he knows how to play, he just does not see the need to play so obsessively, nor blow off money for special cards he'll only use in a few given instances of his life (if he even utters this line of thought out loud around cyno, he'll have a spear stuck on his back for the rest of the day).

however, you - his lover, his partner, the only person reserved for the ring in his pocket - love TCG, and as the loving boyfriend he is, he tries to keep his opinion of the game to himself; he'd rather have a giant spear in his back than see you sad and pouting as you shuffle through your beloved deck of cards. he should know, he's made the mistake once and it took him a couple of padisarah pudding servings to cheer you up.

alhaitham loves you, and if you like this card game, he will certainly make sure you're happy every duel or match you do. he just can't wrap his head around why you're setting off to the bridge that leads to the entrance of mondstadt city, deadset on making a something years old child cry from defeat.

"alhaitham, baby, you don't understand," you argued, "that child is my mortal enemy, my lifetime arch-nemesis, and a pain in my ass."

"yes, darling, but consider: you have many more potential TCG friends who would make better rivals than some random kid." alhaitham rubs his forehead, completely exasperated if it weren't for the adorable way you're marching ahead in front of him like a goofy soldier going into war.

you only spin around just at the mouth of the bridge, your hands on your hips as you stare up at alhaitham with a pout on your face and a raised eyebrow. "you think i'm being irrational, aren't you?"

alhaitham raises an eyebrow back as he continues walking. "not necessarily, my love, however - "

there's something about being hit in the face with multiple fluttering wings and feathers unexpectedly, that can render even the most stoic of men like alhaitham utterly lost and speechless. is it the pure shock? the pain of not really fluffy appendages hitting their face? well, it's when the haze of birds - pigeons? - finally clear, alhaitham is greeted by the displeased and outright sour expression of the one he can only assume to be timmie, your 'sworn enemy'.

"what are you doing?!" said boy screeched. "you scared my pigeons away!"

alhaitham could only blink owlishly at the dirty blond haired boy, looking around to see a bunch of pigeons flying away, leaving a trail of feathers in their wake. granted, despite all the horror stories you told him about timmie, alhaitham's rational enough to be patient with timmie.

"i'm sorry, but I don't think I have control over that, kid." alhaitham tilts his head down to look at timmie. "if you feed your pigeons in the middle of the road, especially a bridge with exactly two exit and entry points, your pigeons will surely—"

"no, my mama always said that if you're a person with a pure heart, the animals won't be afraid of you." timmie turned his nose up and stuck his tongue out at alhaitham. "that's why my pigeons like me, and not you, you meanie!"

alhaitham had to reel himself back to take in the ridiculous logic, the gears in his head turning to come up with an explanation. "no," he shakes his head as if it's hurting, "birds and all animals for that matter don't know the concept of morality, thus they have no sense of right and wrong as humans do. the only reason the pigeons run away from others and stay with you is because you're feeding them, creating a dependent relationshi—"

"blah blah, why should i listen to an old man with graying hair?"

said (old) man with gray(ing) hair visibly reels back, flabbergasted. he's not so much offended as he is shocked at timmie's attitude. he wanted to say 'no, he's not old', 'his gray hair is a natural phenomenon because of genetics', and, 'listen here you little shit'.

"see?" you commented from the sideline, arms crossed. "devilspawn."

"ARGH!" timmie shouts, pointing an accusing finger at you. "you again?! stop scaring my pigeons away!"

"i keep telling you, there's nothing i can do about that!" you shout back, bickering with the small child as if you were about to lunge at him.

alhaitham looks back and forth between the two of you, mentally wondering if he was dating and courting someone of the immature type (doesn't mind it solely, because it's you). when he moves to calm you down so the both of you can finally head into mondstadt city to look for marjorie, timmie says:

"maybe my pigeons don't like you because you look like an ugly cow!"

oh boy. no good. no, no good, alhaitham won't tolerate that.

alhaitham loves you a lot. he really does. he rarely ever says the three magic words, and for the most part, it's fine on your end because he expresses his deep affection for you through his actions.

and if it means making a little boy cry at a simple card game to protect your dignity, then so be it.

"beloved. if you would so kindly let me borrow your cards."

"wha—?"

"beloved."

this is just a silly drabble i thought of a lot of days ago and no, it's not proofread AHAHA. i have been so inactive lately and i apologize for that, school has been hectic and i was busy with college applications to boot. but now, i'm about to graduate so i should have some free time before i finally taste the college life ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ if y'all saw this post but with no tags you did not

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham imagines #alhaitham imagins #shu writes

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libraryraccoon · 1 month

Note

Ok I request Azrael x archangel gn reader please (romantic pls)

Gender : GN

Pronouns : None

Message from Raccoon : it's honestly a little hard to write for Azrael because we know nothing of him-

You and Azrael have known each other for a long time, before the Earth was created.

You had to watch over Heaven and make sure everything was okay. Azrael often accompanied you in your task because he wanted an excuse to escape the paperwork.

He often tells you what some souls did when they were alive and how they died, like this demon killed by a hunter and dogs because they thought it was a deer.

You got closer, and what was supposed to happen happened.

You start to date him.

Now that was fun.

Do you know what the “50 questions to see if we approve you for dating our brother” archangels/family of Big G version is ?

No because you felt like you were being questioned for a serious crime and not dating their brother.

3 hours.

All right ? 3 hours of suffering an interrogation for a crime that wasn't a crime. In the end, they accepted you, apparently it went pretty quickly because you knew them..

You don't even want to know how long it would have lasted if you didn't know them before dating Azrael.

You and Azrael flying together is canon.

You fly at least once a week, and when you don't people think there's a problem.

Literally you and Azrael might just don't want to fly the week, but people will think you've broken up.

There are always angels to come and find out why you don't fly together, even after you tell them to stop.

Although it also helps a lot, in the sense that when you argue there are always angels to help you resolve the problem.

Personal/private life who ?

You know how Viv sold us Lillith x Lucifer ? Not what it's like on the show, but how she sold it, the loving couple everyone wants ? Yeah. It's you and Azrael.

Azrael always plays jokes on you, and you play jokes on him in return.

I can just see you starting a never ending prank war, you creating new jokes so it never ends.

You created most of humanity's jokes, Big G once asked how you had so much imagination for this sort of thing.

Hugs. So there, three possibilities :

If you are shorter than him then you are the little spoon,

Or you are the same size and always change from small spoon to big spoon depending on your mood,

Or you're taller and he's the little spoon.

The one who makes the big spoon must always put their wings around the other.

Whenever one of you is sad, the other always puts their wings around the one who is sad, because it's just comforting and brings a kind of sense of security.

Gabriel is your number 1 shipper. You can't tell me otherwise, he was literally the one who managed to bring you together in the first place.

Lucifer wondered how his brother managed to find someone, especially since Azrael had never seemed interested in love before.

Michael threatened to kill you if you ever hurt his brother... you didn't feel like it was a threat but more of a warning.

You’re glad he never heard about your little arguments.

Despite your little arguments which are rare, you and Azrael are THAT couple that everyone wants.

I just know that some angels come to ask you how you manage to have such a perfect/good couple.

I can see Azrael being sarcastic, so if you are too, know that you are the threat couple from Heaven.

(Second) Message from Raccoon : Writing for a character that we haven't see/know anything about them is so hard ?? I never suspect it to be that hard tbh.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #azrael #azrael hazbin hotel #azrael x reader #azrael x gn reader #azrael x male reader

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prodsh00ky · 5 months

Text

from the cradle to the grave

pairing: vampire!seonghwa x reader

warnings: use of words probably, crying, mentions of blood, death, war and violence, seonghwa creeps the reader out by breaking into their house, deja vu era seonghwa look combined with 2023 long haired hwa bc this should be a warning, some angsty stuff, fluff if u squint really really hard, past lives (sort of), reader is referred to using they/them pronouns but i might have left something that suggest they’re female/afab in the way; please let me know if there’s more

wc: ~4.6k words

notes: i tried to finish this in time for halloween (it was sitting in my drafts since 2021...) so this was supposed to be a spooky season fic. it didn’t work but here it is anyways! hope you guys like it. im a big vampire enthusiast and a bIG seonghwa enthusiast which makes me the biggest vamp!hwa agenda supporter so lets gooo

well, at least your gut feeling was probably right.

these last days have been… weird, to say the least. every time you’d go back to your apartment after college you felt like you were being observed, maybe even followed. it was like there was someone always behind you or around the place you were in a way that made you feel like you were never alone indeed, and you didn't like the shivers you got from it. to top it off, the whole thing was giving you even more bad nightmares than the usual; the most recent ones involved big mansions from the eighteenth century or something, a lot of fighting, blood and a pair of piercing eyes staring into your soul. the worst part was that you always forgot in the course of your day that you were having them, only remembering when waking up in a cold sweat from a new one. your friends told you it probably was due to the time of the year since spooky season just began, and you thought it might be it; a scary vibe was nothing less than expected from fall.

but the tall figure standing behind your favorite armchair that welcomed you home seconds ago after you locked your apartment’s door told you otherwise. you automatically move to grab your floor lamp to defend yourself.

“who are you and what are you doing here?”

“so you’re feisty. i should keep track of that.”

his voice is deep but also smooth. he’s probably a head and a half taller than you and wears a white shirt with a v cut, black trousers paired with a black blazer and his neck is adorned with a sole silk ribbon. when he turns to you, you get to see that his long black hair would probably reach his silver pendant earrings if it wasn't tucked into a fancy hairstyle with a silver pin holding the front and that his eyes are sharp and piercing (and strangely similar with the ones in your recent nightmares, but this time they feel familiar and not frightening as usual), just as the rest of his facial features. he is probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. but you still have no idea of who he is or how he got inside your house, so you quietly get your phone and dial 911.

“i'm going to repeat it just once more. who are you, what are you and how the fuck have you gotten inside?” he seems too entertained eyeing you from head to toe for some seconds, but he quickly wakes from his apparent trance and answers you.

“right. i'm sorry for the rudeness... and for the invasion, for that matter, although this apartment was virtually 100% accessible for me. oh, and for the last few days too, but i'm afraid the observing was necessary. i’m park seonghwa, one of the royal eight, and deeply pleasured to know you.” he bows lightly and opens his mouth to continue and it shows you a glimpse of long sharp canine teeth. it makes you interrupt him.

“so you’re the one who’s following me? know what, it doesn’t matter actually, i’m calling the cops.” you turn to open the door and get outside, however the keys aren't in the door handle anymore. with the lamp still in your hold you try to open the knob forcefully, adrenaline beginning to fill you due to despair, but the jittery sound of the keys dangling makes you turn to the stranger once more. he holds the keys with his left hand, the right one leaning in the armchair.

“forgive me for my ways, but calling the police won’t be needed and after you listen to me you’ll see why. i’m not here to hurt you in any way, it’s actually… quite the opposite. i was following you because me and my brothers needed to reach you, and after i finally found you i wanted to know who we were looking for. if you’re willing to give me some of your time, i’ll be happy to explain everything i can for now. please?”

considering your options, either you jump out of the window into a 65 feet fall or listen to him. but you still want to be sure someone is keeping track of you, so you move to open the window hoping today the old couple and the friendly lady who lives in the building next to yours and are always inviting you to spend the holidays and have dinner with them are gaping inside your place as usual and turn on the localization device in your phone.

“you have ten minutes.”

“thank you for considering my offer.” he answers, seemingly more relieved, and starts talking. “i’m not sure how to address it correctly… there probably isn't a correct way to do it, so i’ll be plainspoken. i’m a vampire, such as my brothers, and we need your help because you hold powers that can save our empire from the mass attack it is suffering right now.”

you huff, because it’s the only thing you feel like doing.

“you really invaded my house to fool me into a halloween prank? who made you do it? oh, it must have been yeonjun and kai, right? i'm calling the bastards right now, this is way off limits.” you manage to grab your phone in your pocket again but, just like your keys, you see it appearing in the guy’s hands.

“it’s not a prank and your human friends have nothing to deal with it, swear with my long gone soul. i am indeed a vampire, as you can verify by my teeth. vampires exist, such as some other ‘magical creatures’, as your people like to call us. i’m park seonghwa, the second vampire emperor, or prince, whatever you’d prefer, and am here to plead for your help because my empire is perishing and the eight of us can’t do much without you.”

the serious way he’s speaking almost convinces you, but it still sounds so crazy and nonsensical you keep yourself skeptical. you can't avoid some classical questions, though.

“why aren’t you burning or shining in the sun, then? and i don't see you sweating due to the giant amount of garlic in my kitchen. there’s no proof to your allegations, fang boy.”

seonghwa finds it really hard to suppress a smile. you were much more fun (and cute) than he thought, and seeing you being so doubtful only added to the feeling he had.

“because not all the tales you humans like to tell about us are true. garlic does not affect vampires at all, i have no idea where this... thing came from. we only get paler in the sunlight, as you may perceive.” he moves closer to your window, and you can see his slightly tanned skin turning paler and paler until his veins start to become proeminent and dark blue in his skin. it’s almost as if he's like a living canvas full of paint.

“i don’t believe you.”

“do you expect me to prove my identity then? because the only way to do it is by feeding, and im afraid you’re the only human in the nearer 260 feet at least.'' he steps closer and while he’s talking you see his fangs getting longer. and sharper. he touches his pointer finger with his teeth and his skin rips easily as if a needle had been dragged along it. when you look into his eyes they’re rouge as… blood. fear creeps into you and you step back, moving your head no.

“y-you can go on! i will hear you, i p-promise. i'm not exactly doubting it anymore.” you say, voice weak with fear. you move to your couch slowly, eyes still fixated in his every move. “i-im going to sit because this doesn’t sound like a conversation i’ll be able to take in while standing. feel free to sit too.” he moves to sit in the same armchair he’s leaning, but you start to talk again before you forget and his eyes move up to you again. “oh, but i want my keys and phone. you’ll not be getting my help making it look like you want to keep me in captivity.”

he nods, putting your phone and keys in your center table. you grab them almost immediately murmuring “thanks” because well, look where you are. he nods again and waits until you stop moving to talk.

“i’m shall start from the beginning since you have no familiarity with the vampires situation, right?” you nod, asking yourself what a vampire situation would mean. “the… ‘magic’ realm, i’ll call it this way for now because it’s easier, is hidden from human eyes. we have our own rules that exist to ensure mainly two things: that we won’t reveal ourselves to you with ease and that we will have peace, or anything closest to it, within us. some centuries ago people lived in balance and each kind had their own inside rules and organization besides these two major ones, but a riot some of the folks started created chaos and eventually a war. it was a slaughter; many villages were destroyed and many creatures, killed. it’s one of the darkest chapters of our story.

“wait, what do you mean by ‘creatures’ and ‘folks’? you’re not saying…”

“witches, elves, mermaids and sirens, gnomes, fairies, fauns, they’re all real. at some level, at least. i say this due to the fact you humans love to fantasize about their characteristics way too much, as you could testify with me and the sun belief you had. the majority of things you assume you know about them or about ur are probably inaccurate.”

your frown, “and what is the truth about all of you, then? what is wrong in the things i’ve been taught?”

there’s hints of a smirk in his lips, but he tries his best to keep neutral. “curious, aren't’ we? i’d love to share it with you, but it’s best that you learn it by yourself.” your eyebrows raise and he gets the sign to keep talking. “we’ll get there, do not worry.”

he takes a deep breath, a shadow of something gray crossing his sharp features. “after the war finished, pretty much all that was left was chaos. in an effort to save the survivors, an assembly was arranged so we could fix new rules and try to establish things. it happens that the vampires were the race that had the fewest deaths and casualties during the war and managed to better organize ourselves for that to happen, so it was decided by majority that we would rule all races from then on.”

“holy crap-” you tap your mouth, using the best of your self control skills to not laugh in his face, “this sounds like a fanfic i’d have read when i was twelve. how did you guys manage all the power? and you said majority, not unanimity. there was someone against it, i suppose.”

seonghwa allows himself to smile, happy to observe you notice things rather quickly. you try to suppress your own reaction; if he was already handsome poker faced, it felt like his smile alone could convince you about anything he was saying and more. “we accepted it, since it was what most wanted. some begged, even, at some point of the discussion. it was never easy, though. we have faults and committed many mistakes, some worse than others and some… unforgivable, if i’m being honest. but i assure we hardly did then out of personal selfishness, the weight of keeping things in place is always something that humbles us down. and yes, you assumed correctly, there were people against it.”

he pauses abruptly, looks at you and laughs quietly, which confuses you. the fact that his laughing warms you inside has nothing to do with it, you reassure yourself.

“what?”

“if you thought the previous facts i’ve told you sounded like a… fantasy book or so, you can’t wait for the next bit.” he tries to dwell his laughter down to answer you, but you can see he’s struggling. “guess who disagreed with us being in power?”

it takes you less than a millisecond to reply. “no shit it were the werewolves.”

he starts laughing again but freely, not trying to refrain himself, and this time you can’t control the shocked smile that creeps onto your face along with your eyes widening.

“jesus fuck, seonghwa-” you have to pause for a second to recompose yourself, because you started laughing too hard along with him without even realizing, “it was already hard to believe the whole vampire convo and all, now you’re saying that not only other species of magical creatures do exist but the rivalry between vampires and werewolves is real? how do you expect me not to think this is some sort of twilight remake?"

“oh, no, not that movie,” he says while trying to stop laughing, “i’ve never watched it but it has caused enough misunderstandings already about us.”

you eye him up and down, “have some respect, it’s a masterpiece! i’m sure you just have never watched it because you know you’ll get inferiority complex since you’ll never be edward cullen.”

“i’ll pretend i know what you’re talking about and agree.” you laugh but on your own this time, and he can’t avoid admiring the wrinkles in your face when you do it. “resuming, the werewolves were never exactly comfortable with the idea of us in power in the first place, but as i said it was what the majority wanted. it has been like this for over eight centuries, and everything was going peacefully until around the nineteenth century. the werewolves started a rebellion against our empire, and to do it joined forces with each and every wrongdoer in our realm. they managed to have each and every single creature that had committed horrendous crimes as their allies, which caught us by surprise. we’ve tried to talk to them in the beginning, but it didn't work; they started to kill vampires and pretty much everyone that agreed with our power. it has been like this since then, and we were succeeding in controlling the war until one century ago.”

“oh.” nice way to react, you think. but what would be a great reaction for a narnia x game of thrones crossover of sorts? “i’m… i’m sorry, i guess. i’m not sure how to properly react to all of this, and it’s harder to conceive it as true. and what does it all have to do with me? swear i’m trying not to be a jerk or so, but why are you telling me all of this? why did you come after me?”

seonghwa, once again, has to control a smile creeping in. “because you, y/n, might be the key to saving everything.”

your brain short circuits. “what?” you freeze, wanting to laugh in his face, but the serious and hopeful look he gives you indicates he’s telling the truth. then a detail, a tiny but important detail comes to your mind. “wait- how the fuck do you even know know my name? i haven’t said it to you until now, there’s pretty much no mail you could get that from and most of my friends call me by nicknames, how do you know it?”

despair flashes through his eyes, but it’s only for a second. “well, here's where things start getting… interesting. or complex. i know it might sound crazy but… there’s… you… you’re…”

its the first time he seems uncertain or insecure and maybe even afraid in his speech if you squint, but the next bit that comes out of his mouth makes everything really sound like a big joke.

“i’m afraid there’s no easy way to let you know this, so i’ll have to be straightforward. you’re a living amplifier to any type of supernatural being. this amplifying power is given to a human in earth as a blessing from whatever force that keeps the universe balanced from time to time, but there are always at least a few centuries that part the amplifiers’ births. the last amplifier was a friend, an ally of ours that helped - or rather lead us vampires to our victory and was the sole reason why i and pretty much all of the survivors are still alive. i know your name because it was one of the last words he said before passing after sacrificing so much to guarantee peace amongst supernatural folks. i’m here to ask or rather plead for your help, because although we have more resources and ways of fighting now we’re afraid that it might not be enough for the challenges we might face.”

you blink once. twice. then you sneer.

“you know, i was almost believing you. i’m ashamed to admit it, but it was almost getting to me. but after this i'm afraid i’ll have to call kai and yeonjun and tell them to stop fucking with me every halloween season because this is way off limits. you’re a great actor, though,”, you say, reaching for you phone, “i’m sure you’ll go the distance or so. your costume is very well made too, i have no idea who thought about the eye mechanism but is sure surpr-

he takes your hand with his extremely cold one before you reach your phone.

“please. me and my brothers don’t have much time to deal with your doubts properly, and i’m sorry about that, so i beg of you. it probably sounds way far from your human rationality, but have you never felt anything different? any other type or force or liveliness different from what others feel? have you never seen the way some people thrive when they’re by your side? how they go higher than they probably would if they weren’t close to you? how it’s so easy for your to really connect to the people you love and how pleased they seem to be to love you back? have you ever felt observed? have you never seen that there are beings trying to put their eyes on you all the time, specially in nightmares?”

you head starts to spin. yes. he actually had a point. your presence around people you liked seemed to bring them more joy and great opportunities for some unknown reason, and it has been this way since ever. your childhood nickname was “lucky” due to this; the games and toys were funnier and happier when you were around, even if one of your friends got hurt - it would be fine, after all, right? the foster home you grew up in started to receive more donations after you arrived, and your foster dads were able to house even more children. your presence became a must in problem solvings while you grew up, because, for some reason, the fact that you were there made it all calmer and somehow easier. your friends would get higher grades, nicer positions in the school teams, greater opportunities and happier memories if you were involved or cheering for them; you were a walking lucky charm all over your life. your parents, your foster siblings and the few real friends you have always said the love they feel towards you is different than any type of love they’ve ever experienced. kai and yeonjun even like to joke that you have some type of magic on your blood or something, because they feel that your friendship will undoubtedly last for the rest of your life, no room for doubt.

and the nightmares. they were way more intense and frequent when you were a child. creepy and lone places, destroyed cities, dark alleyways stained with blood, desolated ghost-like faces, cries of help you never knew whom they belonged to. but the worse ones were the ones that had eyes around aware of your every move no matter what you did. they were the ones that offered your nights of sleep no mercy and made you wake up crying hard and shaking up from despair for years. funnily enough, they always seem to happen again frequently each spooky season.

“i-i suppose you’re right in some way, b-but-”

“have you had a time where you painted a lot? maybe when you were a kid?”

that’s what breaks you.

“h-how the fuck do you know this?”

his lips curve up, a sad smile reaching his eyes. “eden, the last amplifier, was a painter. probably one of the best ever seen in the whole world, if i have a say on that. an amplifier born will always have and nurture the last amplifier’s talents for at least some time, specially during their childhood. if you took on his talent, i bet your paintings were astonishing, even more for a child.”

your memories flash in front of your eyes: how many paintings have you made for your parents’ office? how many times did you spend your early sunday mornings painting in order to gift your siblings? how many of these were still with them, in their houses, becoming part of the scenery of their lives until nowadays? and why the fact you abruptly stopped doing them when you were nine or ten had never made sense until now?

“i’m- i’m sorry, but- this must be some type of misunderstanding or bad taste joke, that’s ithe only explanation, that's it-”

“as said before im deeply sorry that we don’t have more time to do this with ease but…”, he huffs, looking down and then to you again, “this is what will have you believing me. i’m really sorry.”

he stares into your eyes for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight seconds straight.

and then it all hits you.

flashes of some of the places you saw in your nightmares, but this time live, in person, because you were there; a giant castle with an art studio, your beloved art studio, where all your creativity flew through the canvases, where life seemed to make more sense. flashes of people you never met; unfamiliar smiles in their faces, but the lingering feeling there’s no physical building that could carry your conception of home more than they could; nights together singing by the moonlight, but also serious conversations and arguing and fighting but always making up because, in the end, they’re your family; war and horrible battles and you standing in all of them offering everything this force inside of you could because things had to end in peace; crying, seeing red and hearing their last words for you. darkness, solitude, happiness, yearning, melancholy, bliss, doubt, joy, frustration, hope, all types of feelings that weren’t and were yours at the same time.

you snap out of it with the feeling of seonghwa’s cold thumbs drying the tears you didn’t realize were streaming down your cheeks.

“i’m sorry this is so unfair to you,” he whispers, “i really wish this could happen naturally, without demanding so much of you and shattering the world you know with such violence as it has always been with the others…”

for a while, you just allow him to hold your face and caress it, too overwhelmed by everything that’s flooding your brain. after what could be some seconds, minutes or even hours, you’re not sure at this point, you move away from his touch and he lets you go, something heavy in his eyes you are not able to decipher due to your state.

“you need time to digest it all, and you’ll have it. i’ll make sure that no nightmares or even visions plague your mind in the next days so you can rest. but i’ll have to come back in a week or two to ask you to come with me and help us if you’re willing to do it. i promise that i’ll answer any of your questions then and that more understanding of what you’re capable of will make it a bit easier. you can share all of this, but be sure to do it only with trusted ones and with as fewer people as possible.”

he gets up and makes the beeline to the door, but comes back and leaves a black business card in the table in front of you, just a single phone number written in red in it.

“if you need anything, do not hesitate to call this number and talk to me. i’ll do anything in my power to help you.”

he opens the door, turning to look at you for one last time. ”we’ll see each other again, y/n.”

seonghwa closes your apartment’s door and in a couple of minutes he’s walking in the street again. he takes his phone, dials a number he knows by heart and waits. the voice that answers him is curious, yet patient.

“hey, are you fine? how did it go?”

he huffs before replying, “as well as you would expect, hongjoong. they didn’t hit me with a broom or tried to shoo away with garlic, but also didn’t believe me until i forced them to see.”

“so you did have to hypnotize them?”

“unfortunately. humans got way too used to believe we’re bedtime stories, specially in this century, so it wasn't something i didn't expect, but i-”

“you’re not entirely comfortable with doing it too, i know. by the way, how did you feel? since it all probably got stronger, was it okay for you?”

seonghwa hesitates for a few seconds. “it was ecstatic, hongjoong. i’m not sure i’m able to fully translate it into words. the more time I spent there and the more I understood about who they are now the more it became hard to let go. this is nothing like anything else that i ever felt, and it’s only the first time i saw them. i feel lost but also as if i had finally found something very important inside me at the same time. i… have no idea of what to do.”

“maybe telling them, if you already didn’t?”

“no way. it was hard enough for them to believe the whole thing, it would be twice as hard if they knew- if i told them things probably would have been even harder. they’ll know when the right time comes.”

“sure, then. it’s your choice. are you already coming back?”

“yeah, i’ll call for the car in some minutes.”

“great. thanks, hwa. i know this was probably tough on you. come home safely.”

seonghwa replies with a hushed see you soon and hangs up. he knows hongjoong just wants to be sure, but they knew each other well enough for hongjoong to presume nothing of the matter would have been said to you by seonghwa.

because how could he? right after stealing the truth you had been living until and shattering it into pieces? it sounded too cruel for him, he felt it in the moment he laid eyes on you today.

time would say when he’d tell you that besides your name, eden also said that the next amplifier would be his soulmate, and that this would allow to change things forever.

©prodsh00ky 2023. no crossposting or translations allowed.

214 notes · View notes

frankcastleonlyfans · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀.𝐓

pairing: aemond targaryen x witch!reader

summary: queen alicent wants to exile her son's lover, who she thinks is a witch.

words: 3,1k

author's note: this came during a funny conversation with my friend lola @knifes0ldier and we got into the common sense that aemond definitely has a knife kink. also, the Bloody Lady is a goddess that i made up with, as i don't have that much knowledge on essosi religions.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

18+ warning

warnings: the greens are their own warning, mentions of animal cruelty, descriptions of wounds, unprotected sex, knife kink, blood kink, iron throne sex, NOT MEANT FOR MINORS!!!

gif by @harwin-breakbones

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

Honestly, you weren't surprised at all. Queen Alicent always made sure to make you know that she hated you, and your presence, even if most of the time she didn't had to say a word to do so. And you loved it. You loved to watch how uncomfortable she got with your presence. You would widely open your eyes and stare at her with a wicked grin in your lips, because you adored to observe how her body shivered. And that was probably the reason why Ser Criston would always grab a hold tight on his sword, every time you'd pass across the Queen on the hallways.

"But I don't get it, my Queen. What have I done to be exiled?" You frowned, biting back one of your creep smirks. This wasn't the right time to piss Alicent off.

"You think you're so smart, don't you, Y/N?" Alicent asked in a stern tone. You wanted to snort so badly, "I don't know what kind of sick spell you have on my son, but I am not letting this go forward. I want you out of King's Landing by tomorrow morning, otherwise, Ser Criston will take your heart out, just like you did to my horse. I know it was you!"

"I don't know what you mean, your Grace." You lied, faking a pout.

It wasn't your fault that her horse was the only one in the stable that gave you permission to kill him. It was his wish to be used as a sacrifice to the Bloody Lady. But of course you couldn't tell that to the westerosi Queen, a woman with very different beliefs. She would have your head right there if you said what you truly thought about the faith of the Seven.

"I don't think it's a coincidence that ever since my brother-in-law brought you here, the animals in the castle had reduced in quantity. I don't care for what you do in Essos, but I will not tolerate witchcraft under my roof!" She yelled at your face.

During one of your visits to Braavos, you had been kidnapped and sold to a lord in Pentos. The lord gave you as a gift to Daemon Targaryen, who brought you to Westeros after his lady wife died, and he gave you to his brother, the King Viserys Targaryen, who then gave you as toy to his son, Aemond Targaryen, whom you had a very intimate relationship with.

You were originally from Qarth, but you decided to become a peregrine, in search for your destiny and a purpose in life, and use your magical talents as a way of living. You could easily have runned away from your kidnapper, but something in you told you to trust the course. You never thought a valyrian-westerosi boy could be your destiny, but the spectro of the Bloody Lady inside of you told you that Aemond was the right one.

"I wish I could help you with some information, but unfortunately I know nothing about this, my Queen."

Alicent took a deep breath. They were at war, and she probably would regret not having a witch on her side, but she couldn't have you there anymore. It's been long since the Queen last felt safe, knowing that there was someone in the castle that could easily kill everyone without even using their hands. She needed you gone, even if her son would hate her for exiling you.

"I want you gone, Y/N. And don't bother saying your goodbyes to Aemond, I will tell him that the guards saw you running away. He will think that you played him just to have your freedom. There's a ship waiting for you in the harbor." She said, pointing to the door for you to leave.

But you weren't going anywhere. Aemond was yours, and not even his mother could take him from you. You thought about killing her to get her out of your way, but without Alicent, Aegon would run the seven kingdoms recklessly. You cared about Aemond too much to let his brother rule without someone there to control him.

During the middle of the night, you were supposed to be packing your stuff and leaving the castle while everyone was asleep. But you thought about being honest with Aemond and telling that his cunt of a mother had been picking on you. He would have your side, and wouldn't let you leave. You knew he cared about you just the same. He was your lover, and even though everyone at the Red Keep thought of you as an essosi wild animal, and made fun of your accent, Aemond never did. The prince loved your distinct accent while speaking the common tongue, the liked when you talked on low valyrian languages you spoke, and he liked when you say something in qartheen, your mother language.

You never told him about your gifts. He knew about your beliefs and your devotion to the Bloody Lady, but he had no idea about your powers. You liked to call it illusions, as they weren't really powers. You were no God, so therefore was no power in you. With a have of your hands water could turn into wine, in a blink of an eye a man could drop dead, and yet you were nothing but a simple maidservant to a prince, whom you were starting to fall in love with.

Aemond had no guards on his door. He liked to joke that he sleeps with his eye open, as the other one is always closed. It worried you about his safety, but he promised you that he could take care of himself.

As you opened and closed the the door behind you to an enormous and vast darkness, you felt the coldness from a sharp blade against you neck.

"How did you know I like knives?" You teased under your breath.

Aemond grunted in your ear and turned you around to his body. He had your neck on his hand, and kissed you passionately, pratically growling to your mouth. It killed you to break that kiss, but you two needed to talk.

"Wait– I need to talk to you." You whimpered when his hands found it's way to your backside, where he squeezed while kissing your neck.

"You don't come to a man's chambers in the middle of the night to talk, Y/N" Aemond purred, extending his trail of kisses until between your breasts.

"Unfortunately what I have to say is very serious, my prince." You used your finger to lift his chin to look at you, even if you hardly could see his face.

Aemond groaned in annoyance, "Fine. Who's bothering you? I hope I don't need to kill anyone important."

"Oh, hopefully it's not gonna come to that. I'd hate for you to commit matrecide, even if your mother fucking hates me." You hugged his body, resting your forehead in his chest. 'His scent is so vicious', you thought, 'I could get drunk to it.'

"What did mother do this time?" He asked, leaving soft kisses on the top of your head. He liked to play with your locks between his fingers.

"She wants to exile me. I'm supposed to be on board of ship heading to Pentos right now. I thought I should tell you that before I leave, even if she told me not to." You said. Aemond wasn't easy to manipulate, but you tried anyways.

"And why would she do that?" The prince cocked an eyebrow.

"She... doesn't like our relationship. She hates me Aemond, she thinks I'm a witch!" You tried using a sweet voice, that perhaps would make him believe you.

Aemond stayed a few seconds in silent. Then he took a deep breath, and held your head between his two hands, holding you still.

"How long will you keep lying to me?" The prince asked in a stern voice. You couldn't see, but he was so close to you that his warm breath touched your lips.

You gulped. You were not afraid of Aemond, as he was just as unhinged as you were, but sometimes he would make you nervous, and you were too afraid to disappoint him.

“’m not lyin'.” You murmured under your breath.

"Oh please, Y/N. It's not because I don't talk about it that I don't see it. And, I saw you eating the horse's heart. Mother really loved that horse, you know?"

You frowned your forehead, questioning your own cunning. You remembered that night very well, and you hadn't seen Aemond all day.

"You're probably wondering how I know about that. I was following you that day. All day." He said, too closer to your ear. It made you shiver, "I don't care what you do as long it doesn't hurt anyone I care about. And... I thought it was quite arousing seeing you all covered in blood."

It brought you comfort that you didn't needed to lie to him anymore. At least he knew the truth about you, and accepted you as you were.

"We can talk about it later. But your mother really wants me gone! She said she'll have Ser Criston to take my heart out just like I did to her horse!"

Aemond thought it was quite adorable. You really were a witch, and yet you were there, in front of him and asking for his help. A mere powerless, one-eyed prince. What could he do that you couldn't?

"I don't want to hurt her, but I can't live without you either." You confessed. "The Bloody Lady send me here to find my destiny. You know I was sold, and you now know I could have effortlessly escaped. I stayed for you. She told me we were meant to be with each other."

Aemond was devoted to his faith, just like his mother. But he liked to believe in something he'd seen with his own eye. None of the Seven had appeared to him, and there was you.

"Show it to me. Do something." He asked.

You wouldn't normally use your gifts in front someone who couldn't understand them, but you loved Aemond. You knew he needed a reason to have your back, and his feelings for you weren't enough.

So you did a basic illusion. With just a thought, all of the candles inside his chambers were alight. Now you could see his face, and how he looked around the room amused.

"If we are meant to be together, I'm not letting my mother take you away from me. I promise." The prince touched your chin with his fingers and pecked yours lips.

You noticed the dagger in his waist, the one that sooner he used to fright you and held it against your neck. Now that you weren't going anywhere, and had quite a free time...

"I wasn't kidding when I said I liked knives." You purred, touching his chest with your fingertips.

Aemond wore a white linen shirt, but the laces were untied, revealing his naked toned chest.

"I just happen to know a place with a lot of blades." The prince murmured, wearing a devilsh smile.

Aemond took your hand before you could protest, like he know you would. The outside of the throne room would be very well guarded at this time of the night, so he took one of the secret passages he had recently discovered. The passage took you to one of the hallways, where you took the stairs and another passage inside a wall, and lead you both to the place where he wanted to be.

The Great Hall was vast and empty. Without a warning, you used your magic again to alight the thousands of candles around the space, hoping to take Aemond by surprise. He didn't even flinch when one of the candles burned beside him.

He took your hand and leaded you to the stairs to the throne. All swords around it made it so intimidating, you felt like you were vandalizing a sacred place. In fact, you were. None of you were supposed to be there.

"We should get back." You said, "We can fuck in your bed, it's gonna be way more comfortable."

"Oh, but what would be the fun in that?" Aemond replied in a teasingly way.

He dramatically sat on the throne, staring at you with a darkened gaze. The prince opened his legs and patted his thigh, asking you to sit on him.

"Aemond, c'mon. Your brother sits there, it's disrespectful." You muttered.

He placed a finger in front of your lips and hushed you. The prince left small kisses and bites to your neck and collarbone. One of his hands caressed your belly and breasts, and the other went between your legs to open them apart. Your soft whimpers echoed through the hall, as your lover played with your covered hard nipples. Aemond whispered sweet things to your ear, letting his hands do all the work to your body. You slightly rocked your hips against his thigh to create friction between your legs, where you were desperately needy.

"Undress yourself." The prince demanded.

You took your clothes off and helped him to do the same. The room was freezing cold, and all the steel around and under your bodies weren't helping at all, so you decided to warm yourself in him. Aemond sat again, unbothred by the cold blades behind his back, and pulled you to be on top of him. His erection sprunged up and hit is stomach, still leaking pre cum. You felt his hard cock touching your inner thigh, and you rocked against it, trying to tease him. Aemond's lips immediately attached to your right nipple, and his left hand played with the other. Moans escaped from both of your throats.

"Look at you..." He breathed, sliding the smallest amount of his tip inside you. "I'm gonna fucking destroy you."

"Fuc– Aemond, please!" You moaned, trying to pull him closer.

"Say my name, my love." Aemond pushed further into you, your walls adjusting to his impressive size. He kept rubbing at your clit, making you wetter and wetter by the second.

"Oh, Aemond!" You cried out as he bottomed out inside you, fitting so deliciously perfect in your cunt. "I need you so bad, my prince. Please, fuck me!" You sounded desperate, but it made Aemond so aroused he couldn’t control himself anymore.

Aemond's hands grabbed your bottom tightly. He slapped the place, making you squirm on top of him. As your skin burned in pain, he guided your movements, leading you all the way up to his shaft and pounded deep into you. He quickly set a rough pace, pounding into your throbbing cunt with quick and profound thrusts.

You tried to hold on something other than him, and unconsciously grabbed one of the loose blades on the arm of the throne, accidentally cutting yourself. You moaned loudly to the pain, taking your wound to your sight. You brushed your bloodied hand to your lover's lips, and Aemond licked your blood, maintaining eye contact with you. He let out a growl when the taste of copper met his tongue.

"Do you feel how fucking deep I am?" The prince twisted your hair in his fist and pulled it, leaving you neck exposed, as he slammed his hips into you "You're doing so good for me, my good little whore."

Aemond bucked his hips at the feeling of your walls stretching around him, making your face contort in pleasure. You looked at him, digging your fingertips into his shoulders, lifting your hips ever so slightly as he thrusted up into you again.

"Fuck, you feel so good." You moaned, bouncing up and down slowly.

Aemond took one of your hands in his, and pressed it against the loose blade again, opening another cut on your skin. You hissed in pain, while he felt your walls tightening around him.

"You gonna cum for me? You gonna make a mess on my cock, princess?" Aemond teased, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

You pushed his shoulders down on the backrest of the throne, resting your hands against his chest to give yourself more leverage to bounce up and down his cock. Aemond howled to the feeling of the blades lacerating his back. You cried out as he thrusted up into you at a relentless place, hitting your g-spot with every thrust, making you bite down on your lip to keep from screaming. He could feel your walls pulsing, begging to squeeze his cock as you hit your ultimate high, pulling his own orgasm along with him.

You whined, looking at him with a predatory look in your eyes, roughly pressing your lips against his to stifle the moans. He held your body close to his as he thrusted into you.

"I'm cumming Aemond–" You moaned against his lips, a white hot burning sensation flashing through every nerve in your body, making you cum right then and there. Your walls clenched around him, covering his cock with your fluid while he shoots ribbons of his hot seed inside you.

"I'm marrying her!" The one-eyed prince yelled, slamming his hand on the table. "I will fucking marrying her, and none of you can stop me! You can let me marry her and we'll live here, or I am taking her, and my dragon, to Essos, where we can live happily ever after, and you all can fuck yourselves with this war, and the Iron Throne!"

"You really want to marry that freak?" King Aegon frowned.

Aemond grabbed a hold on his sword and looked at his brother, with his scaring and darkened gaze;

"Raise your tongue to talk about my betrothed again and you shall discover why they call me kinslayer, brother." Aemond threatened, and Alicent quickly placed herself between her children.

"Stop! Aemond, all I'm asking is for you to reconsider–"

"I don't want to reconsider anything! I'm warning you, mother. I own the biggest weapon in the entire kingdom, and without Vhagar you know you are going to lose the war." The whole council stared at the prince like he was crazy, going against his rules, his family and his beliefs, all for a woman there was supposed to be nothing but his servent.

Queen Alicent accepted her son's conditions, and, eventually you married Prince Aemond Targaryen. With your help, the Greens won the war against the Blacks. Rhaenyra had six dragons on her side, but Alicent had a witch.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon

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varpusvaras · 1 month

Text

Bail stares up at the sky and looks his death in the eye.

He wakes up with a start and almost falls down, but his descent is stopped by the edge of a desk that is suddenly right in front of him. He grabs at it and stops himself from hitting his chin on it, and stares, with his arms shaking and his breath caught up somewhere in his throat.

He is not sure how long he stands there, staring at the desk which sudden existence he cannot comprehend, when there is a sound somewhere to his left and footsteps coming closer.

"Bail?" It's a woman's voice, so familiar but one he knows he shouldn't be hearing speaking to him. "Sir?"

Bail lifts his head and looks over at the voice.

He looks right into Sheltay's face, currently laced over with thin worry.

Bail stares at her. She has been gone for so long, but her face is now clear in his mind and she stands there, just like she was back then, just like she was before they had lost her. He had almost forgotten how much Winter looks like her mother, but there is no doubt of it now.

A new fear grips him. Was Winter off planet, when it all happened? He is not sure suddenly. She must've been, because Bail isn't sure what he is going to say to Sheltay otherwise. He focuses on her again, and thinks, frantically. Shouldn't she know it already? If Winter is also gone, now, shouldn't Sheltay know it by now, shouldn't her daughter be here with her? No, no, Winter must've been off the planet, just like Leia, otherwise he-

Bail looks at Sheltay again. No. No, something is not- something is not correct. Sheltay had cut her hair, just a couple of weeks before the accident, but it is now long and tied high up, like she used to style it when she was still working on as his aide back in the Senate. Bail looks at her more closely. It has been so long since he has last seen her, but...

Sheltay looks truly concerned now.

"Sir?" She calls again, and takes a step closer. "Is everything alright?"

Is everything alright? Bail thinks, almost hysterically. Is everything alright? You are dead. I am dead. Or at least we both should be.

Sheltay doesn't look dead, though, and Bail certainly doesn't feel like dead, either, as he draws in a breath to his now burning lungs. He draws in another, then another, before he feels like he knows again how breathing properly works. Breathing shouldn't feel necessary for someone who was dead, and Bail does feel the instant relief in his body with every breath he takes in.

"I", he starts. He what? He doesn't know what to say. If this isn't what comes after death, what is supposed to happen when one becomes one with the Force, then what is this?

He breathes in deeply again, just to ground himself further. He looks down on his hands, still holding onto the desk. He recognises the desk, now. It's his desk, the one he used to have in his office back in the Senate. He looks furher down, towards his feet. He recognises the carpet beneath them, as well.

He lifts his head and looks around once more. He is in his office, back in the Senate Building, but something is not correct with it either. Leia had been the one using the office more often now, and she had changed some of the decorations and brought in things of her own, and none of those were there now. The place looks just like it had back when Bail had been the only one to use it, back in the days when the Republic had still been standing.

"Bail", Sheltay is now standing right next to him, and reaching out towards him with her hand. "Are you not well? Do I need to call someone?"

Bail looks at her again. Yes, he can now see it. She is younger than what she had been at the time of her death. She is not wearing any of the gifts her husband would so often give to her. She looks just like she had back then, back when the Republic had still been standing, back when the War had been ripping the Galaxy apart.

Bail turns around. He has a row of glass cabinets situated behind his desk, and he looks at himself from the reflection of them.

He had already expected it, seeing himself with all the years gained during the reign of the Empire taken away. There is not even a hint of grey in his hair, and there are so many lines missing from his face that he almost thinks it funny for a moment. Then Sheltay is grabbing his arm, forcing him to look back at her.

"I'm serious", she says. She is looking him over now, her eyes racing over him up and down. "Do you need a doctor?"

Bail shakes his head.

"No", he manages to say. "No, I- I just need to sit down for a moment."

He really does. He takes a step forward, to walk around his desk, and Sheltay guides him over to he couch and quite firmly sits him down.

"Do I need to call someone else?" Sheltay asks again. "Breha?"

Bail looks out of the window, at the pale colours of Coruscant's morning sky. He then glances at the chrono on the wall. It's still early on Alderaan, too early. Breha is not getting up usually until two hours later, earliest. Bail doesn't want to wake her.

It hits him then that in this place he is now, Alderaan is still there. Alderaan and Breha are still there-

-and Leia is not.

It's a strange type of grief he feels then, not one he had thought possible to even exist before this. Leia is not dead, but she is still gone just the same.

Sheltay probably sees him look at the time, as she nods.

"Later, then", she says. "Fox?"

Bail stops breathing.

He stares at Sheltay, because he had been looking at her and cannot make himself move now to look anywhere else.

How could he have forgotten? If Bail is here, if Sheltay is here, if Breha and Alderaan are here, then Fox is here as well.

"Fox", He tries out his name out loud, and Sheltay seems to take that as a confirmation, as she takes out her commlink and starts typing on it.

Bail manages to move, and takes the moment to look up the date.

It's- he is barely second year into the War. It doesn't seem logical, for him to be put in here, in this time, if he truly is dead, not if not for some kindness from the Force, giving him a glimpse of a time when he truly thought there was still a possibility for a brighter future to be right around the corner, when most of the people he loved were still there with him.

It's just strange, to have only him be aware of it all, and not Sheltay. Bail doesn't remember a day like this ever happening before, not that it matters, if this is just some illusion before he finally ceases to exist completely. It's strange, to make everything appear right like it was so long ago, and not like it had been just before his death. It was strange, to make himself feel so alive, just to have him be dead.

Perhaps, a thought enters his mind and doesn't leave. Perhaps you really aren't dead. Perhaps you're here because of all the mistakes you made, and you need to repent for them, before you can let go and move on.

It almost makes him laugh. That, he thinks, that he can do.

Sheltay puts her commlink away, and sits next to him on the couch.

"He said that he will be here as soon as he can", she says. She puts her hand on top of Bail's, and it's warm.

Bail breathes in and nods.

"Thank you", he says, and then it hits him that Fox is alive.

He had thought of it just a moment earlier, but now it truly realises for him that Fox is alive. He has been gone so long as well, so long, too long. Bail has already grieved him in his heart, to a point he has almost stopped hurting so much. Bail had thought, briefly, during his last moments, that perhaps they could still meet before the very end, if he just hadn't already crossed over to where there was nothing left, but this-

This is an entirely different thing.

He needs to call Breha and tell her, he thinks, briefly, before he has to wonder if Breha remembers either. If it's really just him. That does make the most sense, as Bail is the one who had done all the mistakes, not Breha.

Perhaps he's in his thoughts for longer than he thinks he is, because suddenly the door is sliding open, and Fox is stumbling in, his hands already pulling his helmet off of his head.

"I'm here", he says. He's breathing hard, like he had just been running. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure-" Sheltay starts, but Bail doesn't hear what she is saying. He stands up, and walks towards Fox. Fox, who is hurrying to put his helmet down on the desk, in order to get his hands free, and then walking towards him.

Bail looks at him as he walks. He remembers it all now, how Fox used to look back then during this time. The way his hair curls over his forehead, where the silver strands are on his temples, how his eyes shift from dark brown to golden when the sliver of sunlight from the window hits them just right. There are a few things missing, things that Bail knows only came later. The way his skin would be bruised just from pure exhaustion. The way he would be tense, even when he was trying to relax, just for a moment. This was, is, before all of that. This is before that one night, when everything had started to unravel. This is before Fox had started to cry himself to sleep every night, calling himself all the horrible names there existed in the Galaxy.

This is before all of that. Fox still looks just like he had when he had still looked at Bail and Breha with wonder in his eyes and a smile on his lips whenever they would say I love you.

He looks just as beautiful as Bail remembers.

Fox opens his mouth to say something, but he is so close already, and Bail cannot wait for anything. He pulls Fox into his arms and holds him, trying to feel him through the armor. He buries his face into Fox's neck, not caring about the cold, hard alloy of his pauldron digging into him, and thinks he can hear his heartbeat beneath the warm, tan skin.

There are hands on his back, then one at the back of his head.

"Bail?" He hears Fox's voice clearly from this close, even though he is speaking quietly, almost whispering. "Are you alright?"

Bail breathes in Fox's scent before answering, a mixture of regulation soap, bolt residue and armor polish and just him beneath it all.

"Yes."

"You're crying."

Oh. Bail lifts his face up, just a bit, and blinks. There are tears stuck to his eyelashes, heavy and warm, and he thinks he can see some having landed on Fox as well, if he looks closely enough.

"I'm sorry", he mumbles. It has been a while he has cried, or been overwhelmed like this. He had not given himself permission for being nothing else but calm, when he had heard about Leia being captured. He had not let himself cry when he had held Breha as they awaited for their death, no matter how much he had wanted to do so. Breha had needed him too much for him to fall apart even more.

"It's okay", Fox says. He is carding his fingers through Bail's hair. "What's going on?"

So much. So much is going on, and Bail doesn't know where or when to start.

He knows he needs to decide on those, sooner or later, but before any of that, he has one thing to say.

"I love you", he whispers against Fox's skin.

Fox stills, just for a moment, a moment long enough for Bail to wonder if the version of him Fox had known before in this time had even gotten to say it yet.

Then he continues, running his fingers up and down, his other hand on Bail's back holding onto him just a little tighter.

"I love you too", he whispers back. Bail closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he's ready to take on the Galaxy, once again.

#do you believe me if I say this was supposed to be just a short little snippet lmao #in the actual time travel fix-it idea I have in my head all three of them know and are aware #and the relationship is developing during the second life #but I wanted to write something where they were a thing before already and suddenly everybody is alive for one of them #I decided it was Bail's turn to cry lmao so he got picked for that role he deserves to be the babygirl for once #Fox and Sheltay are very concerned #but then Bail tells them that they gotta kill Palpatine and Fox is on board instantly #sw #tcw #my writing #ficlet #time travel au #one of a kind at least #Bail Organa #Commander Fox #bail/breha/fox #Sheltay Retrac

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burnednotburied · 9 days

Text

Chapter One

AO3 Link | Chapter Two Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slow burn; enemies to friends to lovers; animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/injury; cutting (not to self, but still); religious/cult-like ideas

Note: So the idea for this started as a prequel to my first fic (linked here), but ended up turning into much more. It basically follows the plot of Abby’s Seattle Day 1, diverging from canon where necessary and using dialogue from the game wherever possible. I split this part into two chapters because it’s so long.

This is a lot of build-up (important to the story and hopefully enjoyable to read), but I promise romance is on the horizon!

Also, the idea of deadnaming or misgendering Lev—even in the flashback part where they’re little kids and wouldn’t have known otherwise—physically pains me, so we’re going to pretend that reader has been calling Lev “L” as a nickname for forever.

Hope you enjoy! :)

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April 2038

Abby knew as much about the Scars as any of her fellow WLF members.

She knew that the group was founded by a woman who claimed to have a vision after the initial outbreak of Cordyceps brain infection in 2013, and then started spouting some bullshit about how it was all just a punishment for the sins of humanity. Said that the way to move forward was to go back to the basics. Live off the land. Reject technology and progress and pretty much all the good things in life.

She knew that they live on the island but they wouldn’t fucking stay on it, and that there was once a truce but they broke it, forcing the WLF into an endless war.

She knew that they fought hard and killed brutally, without hesitation or remorse.

She knew that, especially now that Joel was taken care of, killing Scars was pretty much her life’s purpose.

And she knew that the woman who started all of this became known as The Prophet. And that Isaac gave the order to have her killed ten years ago.

It was for that reason that Abby thought Isaac must have misspoken when he opened with:

“The Prophet is on the move.”

He was standing over the large map of Seattle in the center of the room, hands braced on the table, head down in thought.

She didn’t know what to make of that. Or how to respond. A quick glance over at Manny confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who was confused.

One of them had to ask. It seemed Isaac wasn’t going to fill in the gaps unprompted.

“The Prophet?” Manny questioned hesitantly. “Sir… respectfully… She’s been dead for years. Died before we even joined.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who killed her.” Isaac was always calm and measured, almost always spoke quietly. But sometimes there was something beneath his words, just below the surface. Something seething and kind of terrifying, although Abby would never admit that out loud. This was one of those times.

“My unwilling informants downstairs,” he said, referring to the captive Scars being held and interrogated on the building’s lower levels, “tell me that they have a new Prophet. One their Elders have been quietly grooming for the role for the last decade, maybe even longer.”

“Okay so… What does that mean?” Abby asked, finding her voice. This was not the conversation she was expecting to have when she heard that Isaac wanted to talk to them. She had hoped to get some answers about what was going on with Owen.

“There’s a reason why they’ve been more resilient lately. Bolder. Even more bat-shit than normal.” He clenched his fists on the table. “This… Neo-Prophet,” Isaac almost laughed, the words coated in venom, “is about to fully step into her role. She is of age now. Or so I’ve been told.”

Abby stared at Isaac, still waiting for him to tell her what all of this meant. And what exactly he wanted her to do about it.

Manny jumped in. “What? So the Scars are… celebrating? You’re saying that’s why they’ve been ballsier? Killing more of us. Pushing further inland.”

Abby let out a short laugh. “If this is what it looks like when they’re happy, I don’t want to see what happens when they’re mad.”

Isaac remained stoic. “They have a renewed sense of purpose. When we killed their first Prophet, the Scars were enraged. They fought hard for vengeance. But people will only fight on behalf of a dead woman for so long. Passion for the cause wanes without something tangible to fight for. They need that higher authority to look to. They need someone to honor and defend. Their Elders were smart enough to know that their people need a unifying symbol. A living one.”

“Right, and you said that unifying symbol was on the move so…” Abby said. “Want us to hunt her down? See what they’ll do when we take away their new favorite toy?”

“No,” Isaac said quickly. “She’s not our target. We’ll get to her in due time.”

“Then wha—”

He cut her off. “The Prophet will be leaving the island soon, for the first time. In fact, it’s possible she’s already here. One of our captives tells me there will be some sort of initiation for her. I don’t know what that entails, but I’m sure it will involve attempting to kill some of ours. I’ll spend some more time with our friends downstairs and see if I can’t get any more information on that. We’ll try to prevent it if we can, but that’s not our main focus right now.” Abby opened her mouth to protest, only to be cut off once again. “With the Prophet away and many of their best soldiers traveling with her, the island will be more vulnerable than ever.”

Manny gestured to the map, reinserting himself into the conversation. “Sir, we’ve tried attacking their island and—”

“Not like this,” Isaac said. “Not with everyone. There’s a big storm a few days out. We’re going to use it to mask our approach. And you two are going to lead the first wave. Pick your squads. Start prepping.”

“And the Prophet?” Abby asked.

“One battle at a time, Abby.”

“Are we sure it would be a battle?” she pressed. “Isaac, she’s just one girl.”

“You would be foolish to underestimate this unknown enemy. Besides the likelihood that the best of the Scars will be at her side, I don’t doubt that she will be a very skilled fighter in her own right.” Abby huffed. Isaac continued, “And if she’s anything like her predecessor, the greatest threat is in her words. Not her actions. I watched some of my most loyal soldiers abandon our cause for theirs after just one conversation with the one who came before her.”

At this, Abby raised her eyebrows, ready to argue. A look from Manny shut her up.

“We’ve only got one shot at this… And this is bigger than any of us.” Isaac pushed off the table, walking over to Abby and placing a hand on her arm. “I need you, Abby.”

She shifted uncomfortably before relenting, giving a curt nod. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Good.” He pulled away, heading toward the door. “Look over the plans and go through your rosters.”

“I want Owen,” she said. Abby thought Isaac could at least give her that.

When he denied her permission to go look for Owen, Abby went anyway.

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

March 2030 (8 Years Earlier)

The day of your scarring had been the first time Haven saw the sun in weeks.

Your mother said it was a sign. But your mother thought everything was a sign.

She told you that, no matter what, you were not to cry. That you, her only child, would not disgrace her by shedding tears during your ceremony.

You were to be brave. And strong.

The Prophet herself had ordained the act of scarring for all of her followers. A symbol of the innate imperfection of mankind. And so her people would never forget their own failings, even in the midst of their unending efforts towards perfection.

No one was meant to question the Prophet’s teachings, or the Elders who had taken on the responsibility of interpreting those teachings and carrying out Her will since Her death two years prior.

You could feel your mother’s breath against the back of your head as she huffed and decided that she was once again unsatisfied with your hair, roughly taking it down and beginning again for the fourth time.

While she worked, you sat still on the wooden stool in front of her and stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to memorize your features as they were now.

This was the last time you would see the face you knew. Next time you looked in the mirror, you would be different. Would you feel different?

You tried to picture yourself scarred, with two thin lines running from each of your ears to the corners of your mouth. Your eyes stung, tears threatening to fall at the thought.

But there will be no crying today.

Instead, you let your eyes wander to your mother’s reflection, hovering just behind and above yours in the mirror. You examined her face. Of course, you had never seen her without her scars, but you’d always thought your mother was beautiful.

Maybe the change in your appearance would not be so drastic. Maybe it was vain to care.

You were not supposed to be vain.

Once your mother was satisfied with the look of the braided crown of your hair, she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting you gaze in the mirror.

“We are imperfect beings,” she recited. You joined your voice with hers for the second part, “And thus we make ourselves imperfect in Her eyes.”

She smiled softly, squeezing your arms lightly. “Good girl. I’m proud of you. I know you will do wonderfully today.” You tried to return her smile. “Now. Get dressed. I laid your clothes out on the bed.”

She turned to leave you, pausing in the doorway. “Remember what I said, child. No tears today. Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly. Obediently.

She seemed pleased as she left the room.

You changed quickly, wondering if she had been able to tell that you’d spent the whole night before crying. You hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep.

The stool squeaked as you sat back down, not sure what to do with yourself while you waited. You met your own eyes in the mirror once more, this time immediately averting your gaze. You felt sick. And close to tears. And so very scared.

On the other side of the door, you could hear Yara and her mom greeting your mother. The eight-year-old asked if she could come inside to see you. After just a moment of hesitation, your mother allowed it, and you could hear the slight creak of the door as she came in.

Yara said your name quietly, standing just inside the door. You turned to look at her. She smiled, happy to see you, just as always.

“Happy birthday!” she whispered excitedly, closing the distance between you and wrapping her arms around you tightly. You squeezed her back, holding her close for longer than usual. Yara, never one to be the first to break a hug, lingered for as long as you wanted her there.

You were neighbors, and your mothers had grown up together and always been close. And although Yara was four years younger than you, the two of you were close too. She and five-year-old baby L were your siblings, as far as you were concerned.

Yara was mature for her age, even more so than most of your other friends. You knew you could trust her, so with her you were honest.

“I’m really scared,” you said quietly into her hair, still not releasing her from the embrace.

“I know,” she whispered back, squeezing you even tighter. “You’re the bravest person ever though. I know you can do this.”

You finally let go, retreating back to your stool, but Yara stayed close by, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly with one hand.

“She will be with you through this, and for all the days of your life,” she said, earnest. “Our pain is Her pain, and Her pain is ours.”

You couldn’t help but make a mental note of the fact that the Prophet actually did not receive the same scars as all of her followers, so perhaps this one specific pain is one that was not, in fact, shared between to two of you.

But Yara’s comment was made with a level of sincerity that you couldn’t help but admire—and borderline envied—so you chose to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Her presence was always a comfort, so you allowed yourself to relish in it for a quiet minute before your mother reentered the room.

“It’s time to leave,” she said simply. Firmly.

Behind her, just outside the door, you could see Yara’s mom standing there, holding a quiet but curious little L’s hand. They would all be walking over with you to witness the ceremony.

You forced yourself to stand, brushed your hands down your thighs as if to clear some nonexistent dust and smooth the phantom wrinkles. For a moment, you considered taking one last look in the mirror, but ultimately deciding against it. It would feel strange to do so, now that everyone was watching you and waiting.

For the briefest moment, you thought about making a run for it. Stealing a boat or even attempting to make the swim to the mainland. You could survive on your own, or maybe even join the Wolves. You weren’t scarred yet. You could lie about where you came from, and they would probably take you in…

The hiss of your name from your mother’s mouth ripped you back into reality, along with a gentle nudge from Yara.

You took a deep breath and started walking.

Once the home of the Prophet herself, Sanctuary was one of your people’s primary places of worship, second only to Martyr’s Gate on the mainland. (You had never seen it – You’d never left the island – so Sanctuary was where you most often prayed.)

Scarring ceremonies were held there, always on a child’s twelfth birthday.

You had witnessed many friends receive their scars. It was customary to attend the ceremonies of those close to you. Family, friends.

The process was always the same.

Elder Constance would lead all those gathered in a prayer, holding the ceremonial blade. You would recite a version of the Prophet’s Prayer. The blade would be blessed. Then Elder Duncan would make the incisions before welcoming you as an official member, a child of the Prophet.

It never took very long. Everyone had work to get back to, tasks to fulfill.

You would soon come to find that your ceremony would not be like any of those others.

The first indication of this was the sheer number of people who were gathered at Sanctuary. You had never seen this many people gathered in one place at one time, many of the faces you did not recognize.

As you approached the dais, the crowd silently parted for you, all eyes examining you carefully as if looking for something unseen. You couldn’t begin guess what it was.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to cry. To hold your mother’s hand. You wanted to not be here at all. Ever. For this to be a horrible nightmare.

Why were there so many people here?

Your eyes met Elder Constance’s. She was stiff and serious, as always, but there was a brightness in her eyes that you were not accustomed to seeing. A quick glance at Elder Duncan revealed a similar expression on his face.

The other five Elders also stood on the stage. Another thing that was unusual for a simple scarring ceremony.

Had you done something wrong? Were you in trouble?

You looked ahead, and your legs continued to carry you forward, despite your internal protestations.

When your feet were nearly touching the first step up, you stopped. And although your mind went blank, your body remembered what to do.

You bowed your head to each of the Elders, silently waiting to be greeted and invited onto the dais.

“Welcome, child, on this most joyous day!” Elder Constance’s voice boomed, carrying enough for everyone gathered to hear. “Come. Join us.”

You fought the urge to turn around and find your mother. You wanted to look at her face, to see if she knew what was happening.

But you knew that any moves you made in this moment other than exactly what was expected of you would be seen as hesitation, and therefore disgraceful. And you didn’t want your mother to be angry.

So you did as Elder Constance said, and you climbed the steps.

Your vision blurred. You tried to focus on your breathing.

“Two years ago, the ignoble Wolves took our beloved Prophet from us,” she began once you were standing center-stage. The reaction from the audience was instantaneous, full of outrage and despair. Elder Constance allowed this to continue for several moments before holding up her hand; and the noise stopped just a quickly as it began.

“But She is not dead! For the Prophet’s spirit cannot be killed by the evils of mankind.” The crowd hung on her every word as she continued, “She lives in all of us. In our actions and in our virtues. In Her teachings.”

“Here before you are all of your Elders, appointed to this honorable position by our Prophet, most wonderful and wise. She speaks to us, and it is our duty—our privilege—to share her words with you.”

“But today, She does not have words for us.” Elder Constance paused, the audience hushed, waiting for the reveal. “It is Her heavenly desire to give us a new source of hope. An advocate. A champion… A new Prophet.”

Elder Constance’s hands landed on your shoulders.

“Today, She has chosen Her successor.”

The crowd erupted in celebration.

You went completely numb and tuned them all out.

The Elders continued to speak, and the people continued to celebrate. All the while, your mind was reeling and your face was blank.

A new Prophet?

There can’t be a new Prophet.

What does that even mean?

There have never been any prophets except for THE Prophet.

And if there does need to be a new Prophet, why would it be you?

Why you?

It can’t be you.

If any of your questions were answered, you didn’t hear it above the ringing in your head.

Your attention was drawn to the blade that was now in Elder Constance’s hands, and you forced yourself to again begin to listen.

“…The Neo-Prophet will take on her full responsibilities when the time is right. But until then…” She continued on with familiar words, ones used in a typical scarring ceremony to bless the blade before it was used.

The knife was then passed down the line of Elders, each of them lifting it above their head and reciting the same words.

Your legs suddenly feel very weak.

Elder Duncan blessed the blade last and stepped forward, positioning himself just a couple feet away from you. You turned to him just as you knew you were supposed to.

This was the part in the ceremony when you would usually say a version of The Prophet’s Prayer. You weren’t sure if you were still meant to do that, given the circumstances, but you were operating solely on instincts now, so you began, “The world is not in balance, but I will do my part to right it.”

You weren’t speaking nearly as loud as the Elders had. You hoped you were loud enough. You hoped you were doing it right.

The pleased look on Elder Duncan’s face indicated that you had done well, but before you could go on with the next line, all of the Elders continued the prayer together:

“You will lead us through the storm May the current be calm May You guide us home.”

Their words had been slightly altered from the classic prayer, different than you would’ve said it if you had been given the chance. The strangest part was that they were speaking to you.

Almost like they were praying to you…

Elder Duncan took another step forward, gripping the knife.

You expected him to use his other hand to lift your face, to hold it at the best angle for the scarring. You’d seen him do the same to others many times before.

This was the part that you knew was coming. You had been at least attempting to prepare for it. You could handle it.

But you were thrown off once again when instead, he took your right wrist in his free hand and gently pressed your fingers down, making you form a fist. He then lifted your hand until it was by your ear, knuckles facing down, arm bent at the elbow. His own hand gripped your elbow, holding your arm in place.

You were frozen, with no choice but to watch as the knife met the outside of your forearm and sank in. A slow, straight line was carved from the top of your wrist all the way to your elbow.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t cry. You did as you were told.

You wanted to go home.

“We are imperfect beings. And thus, we make ourselves imperfect in Your eyes.” Elder Duncan said, meeting your gaze. “It is for this reason that we proudly wear our scars on our faces.”

When his work was done, he released your right elbow and moved on to the left, lifting that arm into the same position. “But the Prophet, in Her kindness, bears the weight of our imperfections, carrying all of us in her arms. This is why You will wear your scars here.”

“Remember that You are part of us, but set apart.” The blade pierced the skin of your left forearm, and a twin incision was formed. “We look to You, Prophet. May She guide you. May She protect you.” With that, he took a step back, lowering the knife.

You slowly lowered your arms to your sides and turned back to face the enraptured crowd.

Finally, you found your mother among them.

And she was crying.

“My friends,” Elder Constance declared, gesticulating dramatically, “Your Prophet!”

The cheers were deafening.

As you scanned the masses, you felt the blood ooze down your arms and curl around your fingers, pooling on the ground by your feet.

You found Yara, who was somehow clapping and cheering more enthusiastically than anyone else. And then you saw L, held up on their mother’s hip, face concerned, eyes wide and wary.

At least someone was as skeptical as you were.

You wondered if you would get to go home now.

But Elder Constance placed her hands on your shoulders again, this time turning you and leading you in the opposite direction, into the Prophet’s grand house. Into Sanctuary.

There, servants’ gentle hands carefully cleaned your stinging wounds, took down and brushed out your hair, and helped you change into a new white dress.

You would never live in your mother’s house again.

And it would be eight years before anyone addressed you by your name.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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phoeebsbuffay · 7 months

Text

Imagine you work with Hayden Christensen and… you fall in love with him.

Warnings: fluffy, comfort/light reading, filled with old cliches.

***

You are in that moment of your life where daydreaming about men in general has long lost any sense; when flirting happens you sabotage it: when you just enjoy solitude, even though there is this small part of you that never really quit that romantic side.

Nevertheless, at long last you are working hard, so there is little time to think about those things. You work so hard, however, that family and friends warn you about your mental health. But you dismiss their concern. You just like occupying your mind, is all.

Hayden thinks likewise. After divorce, romance has long disappeared out of his sight and mind. Of course, he engages in casual flings every now and then, but even so it’s been… what? Two, three years since he actually got laid?

Not that he minds. His return to “Star Wars” saga, or rather his come back to acting in general, besides his daughter, have been the main reasons to let him busy enough to such nonsenses.

But it so appears that destiny holds something different, though… And so, dear reader, we are invited to investigate how this will roll.

Today is the first day of the filming of a movie that Hayden is starring after finishing his work at “Ahsoka”. So as he arrives and you too, such paths collide.

You, distracted, just tumbled when Hayden, who happens to be nearby, quickly comes to aid you, thus preventing a worse fall to occur.

“Whoa whoa, calm down, take it easy Miss”, so he says, concerned.

“Oh thank you, sir. Disastrous me, uh?”, you joke in response, getting a smile from your savior.

“Aren’t we all sometimes?”, he chuckles. “Glad I could be of help, otherwise that would be such a fall.”

“Indeed. Mondays are…Mondays. Suppose my body has been, well, getting used to the routine”, when you realize this handsome man is talking to you, actually engaging to a silly conversation like this, you start to ask yourself if being that far from the single market got you mental.

But this is not a thought shared by Hayden, who, however, does find you a beauty, quite taken with your y/c eyes and your smile.

“It happens to the best of us", he agrees. "Specially after vacations. I'm Hayden, by the way. What's your name? I'm afraid we have not been introduced."

You smile, somewhat shy mostly due to the embarrassment of the situation. Nevertheless, you offer your hand for him to shake. As he takes and shakes it, you speak:

"Nice to meet you, Hayden. I'm Y/N. Are you working with us on this project?"

"Yeah. I got the main role, in fact."

It's when you realize...

"Oh." You try to mask your shock, but Hayden sees it--and truthfully he finds your disconcert adorable. "Of course. Welcome, welcome. It is indeed not a most appropriate moment for us to meet".

"Allow me to disagree, Y/N. The timing could not be better."

One smiles to the other. This is where the fun begins indeed...

***

You should know by now that if a conversation was merely enough you wouldn't keep every single detail running in the back of your head. What are you, 18? But could you help yourself, though?

When you speak, he actually listens; he does pay attention, he is there. He is not asking nonsense questions or anything of the sort. Because Hayden is interested in what you have to say.

Despite finding himself a handsome man whose company often brings you delights, you don't dare to harbor any sort of feelings mostly because of your old scars.

Yet, there is one detail that keeps hammering your head, bringing you to reason so you don’t get yourself too dreamy about it: he is, for all effects, your coworker. Therefore, all he can be for you is a friend.

And you force yourself to content with that.

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you?”, he asks you one day. There is concern in his eyes, which leads you immediately to wonder it’s related to work, but the way he smiles at you at the same time makes your knees weak.

Oh, holy shit.

“Of course, what is it?”

“I would like to know what are your thoughts about these lines”, he shows you the script. “I’ve been considering changing some to this. Listen up.”

It’s difficult not to be captivated by his passionate speech. You don’t think you’ve met someone as interesting as him, or as intelligent. He loves what he’s doing and is always seeking to improve. You learn from these traits too, aware that you have always to be the best in what you do, but not in a competitive way: only in one where you overcome yourself by getting better daily.

Unbeknownst to you, Hayden appreciates that you do actually hear him, seeing him as who he really is and what he aims to be. You are sincere, kind and decent: qualities he appreciates in a woman.

But because you two are co-workers, all he can do is find excuses to speak to you because insofar he lacks the courage to ask you out. Specially because he’s still unsure how to get himself in a possible relationship after he got divorced—even though he’s been divorced for a long while now.

“I think you are doing a great job”, you tell him after you two share some ideas. “But I also think you are working too hard. I mean, so am I, it’s been crazy days. Do you like coffee?”

And just like that it comes out. You don’t even think twice, it blurts out naturally. Hayden doesn’t see it coming too, finding rather charming the panic that starts to rise in your eyes once you realize what you said.

So it’s reciprocal.

“I do, yes. This weekend my daughter is staying with her mother because it’s her grandparents’ wedding anniversary, which means I’m good with hanging out after work”, his smile spreads when seeing a blush coloring your cheeks. “Does it work for you?”

“Coffee on a Friday evening? 5pm?”

“Yeah.”

“It works just as fine”, you beam.

“Great. I’ll see you soon!”

***

It’s Friday. You try to act casually, giving double focus in your job. But whether you spot him acting or speaking to someone of the crew, your heart races and your body reacts in a teenage manner that makes you blush violently.

You struggle to be discreet but damn it, that owner of such a pair of blue eyes is too handsome. You sigh deep down and there you have it: the return of your romantic side.

“Hello, hello! Back to Earth, Y/N Y/LN”, you hear your boss teasingly calling you.

You don’t know, but there is already gossip between some of the ladies of the production part, because apparently you are not entirely discreet when it comes to Hayden. Naturally, however, no one is speaking it in front of you even if your boss is tempted to tease you about it.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been a little out of…”

“…the radar? Yeah, I can tell. Is there something amiss?”

“Not at all”, you lie. “It’s been an intense week, is all.”

“You’ve been working hard indeed”, he agrees. “Keep going, you’ll go far, my dear”.

He pets your shoulder before leaving you to your thoughts: certainly you didn’t expect to hear such a thing. But what do bosses know?

You sigh. At least Friday is coming soon.

***

Hayden dresses fancifully for this day, even though the coffeeshop you are going is one like Starbucks. He does want to impress you, though. Curious is how he feels alive after a long time off the market for some silly reasons.

But today is the day. Once his filming ends, he comes after you, praying he’s not entirely antiquing in matters of dating. However, every doubt dies when seeing how big your smile is and how sparkly your eyes are. Clearly you don’t know how expressive you can be.

“Hey, Y/N.”

Your heart races when he addresses you. A smile comes naturally as a result.

“Hey, Hayden.”

“Let’s go?”

“Yeah.” As you two walk side by side, you start to wonder whether you are a grown woman or what, because this man makes you weak every time his eyes are set on you. “How was your day?”

As he side eyes discreetly at you, you cannot know that Hayden is thinking almost the same. Charmed by your presence, your enigmatic aura draws him to you, despite his fears of starting a new relationship—or perhaps is he misleading himself in desiring so?

“It was good, thank you for asking. Had fewer scenes today, but those were more intense per usual. I suppose you could tell that because I didn’t have the time to come to you as the rest of the days…”

He smirks at how adorable you look when going pink.

The coffeeshop is not so far, so it doesn’t take you a long time to reach it. Once you do, you and Hayden pick a discreet table that are not too much at the people’s sight.

It’s not until both of you order for black coffee and a piece of lemon cake that you engage in proper conversation.

“Indeed I’ve noticed you’ve been quite busy. That’s what you get for being the main star”, you smirk in tease, pleased for bringing him to laughters.

“What can I do? I try my best”, he responds in an amusing tone.

Does it feel like it’s going too fast? Neither could tell. You and Hayden speak as if you’ve been more than friends over years. Without your notice—or even his—, he takes your hand and gently locks fingers with you.

Between one exchange of glances here, some laughters there, you just know. It’s scary, it’s frightening for sure, but you know.

He is the one.

So what now? Well, you panic internally and opt not to tell anything. Just in case…

***

“You’ve been dating her for what, five weeks now?”, says Ewan when meeting Hayden for some heads up.

“Yeah, I have. She’s a really nice girl, I mean… I haven’t brought to laughters for a long time”, Hayden smiles as he remembers the last date you two had together. “She’s funny and her wit doubles her beauty, you know.”

He chuckles.

“Hayden, my friend”, Ewan places a hand over his friend’s shoulder. “Why are you wasting your time? Ask her to be your girlfriend. I am surprised she’s this patient, honestly.”

“Well me too”, he admits it. “But I wasn’t entirely sure…”

“It’s always appropriate to have some good sense and caution, but fear only holds back for living… Don’t sabotage yourself. Go for it.”

Hayden looks thoughtful, but in truth… Maybe it’s just time to be impulsive again. Or not so impulsive since he comes to discover he’s in love with you.

***

And here come your insecurities again. You start to question yourself whether you got yourself in this too fast, if there’s something wrong with you, or even if you haven’t learned with your previous experiences in failed relationships yet.

All of this because… you’ve been going on several dates with him and nothing gives you the certainty that he corresponds you. At the same time, if this was casual he’d drop you on the first weeks because you are openly against casual sex.

So today you decide to break things with him. You don’t like uncertainties and your heart is already pained with disappointment when Hayden surprises you by paying you a visit right after you had breakfast on a Saturday morning.

“Hey, Y/Nickname. May I come in?”

“Hayden!”, you cannot conceal your surprise and Hayden may have detected your suspicious, perhaps waiting for the worse. “I wasn’t expecting you coming this early! Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it is. I know this is unexpected but in truth there is something I wanted to talk to you.”

He hesitates, probably waiting for some reaction from you. As you say nothing, he proceeds:

“I know we’ve been hanging out more than a few weeks. I know it may seem I haven’t made my mind yet about us… The truth is always cliche, too predictable to be denied”, he hurries to short the distance between you two.

“Then tell me if it’s worth the waiting, Hayden”, you whisper, staring down to his eyes as he cups your face. “Or else I will leave…”

“No. I am not losing you, Y/N.” He murmurs firmly. “I love you.”

Your eyes go wide and your mind goes blank.

“You w-what? Are you sure? Are…”

He decides to give you an answer that will shush your doubts, doing so by kissing you fervently as he holds you in his arms.

From that day you both held the certainty in your hearts that you two are meant to be…

***

Epilogue: a year later.

Hayden watches as you take his daughter for a horseback ride, proud of how easily you bonded with her. The scene is precious before his eyes.

“Show me that trick again!”, she exclaims at you as you do some magic with a coin you had in the pocket of your jeans.

You are leading her over her mare in a green scenario, mixed with blue skies and different shades of colors that paint the walls of Hayden’s farm house. There, you live with him, occasionally joined by his daughter, precious Brie Rose, whom you get along just fine—and adore like she was your own.

And to spoil her a little more, you do as requested and she is brought to laughters. Not much later, Hayden joins you two.

“What are my favourite women in the world doing?”, he asks, hugging you from behind as he laces his daughter with a free arm, pressing a kiss on top of her head before doing the same to you.

“Riding a horse”, she tells him excitedly. “All by myself, see? Auntie Y/N taught me well.”

You cannot help at how she calls you and giggle softly. Hayden smiles brightly upon the affection she has developed to you.

“You know what, Brie? Do you think we could do this forever?”

When she turns her face to you two, you see a spark in her eyes.

“Of course! What do you think, auntie?”

You giggle quietly.

“That depends of your father, my darling.”

Hayden gently pulls you against him, a smile growing on his lips.

“Is that a yes?”

“When did I ever see refuse you anything, my love?”

And just like that a new beginning rises in the horizon for this family that you grew devoted to. One kiss and unspoken vows are sealed…

#sorry guys if this isn’t what y’all expected somewhere along the lines my muse left me #Hayden Christensen #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen fluff #Hayden Christensen x female reader #star wars #star wars imagine #imagine star wars

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wayfayrr · 7 months

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This is one of the runner-up prizes for the raffle! This one is for @saffronarts with how the chain get a bit touchy with reader!! the whole chain aren't here but Wars, Twi, Time, Sky and Hyrule are all here, I hope you like it <3

[masterlist]

Wars

✦ He’s the most comfortable with public affection from the start, constantly having an arm around your waist at all times or his hand in yours. He wants you to feel natural with being his partner so that when he asks you to be in a more serious platonic relationship you won’t turn him down.

✦ He’s one of the few links that aren’t a romantic yandere and instead want to be in a QPR with you! But that doesn’t make him any less touchy, if anything he uses it as an excuse with the ones that view you in a romantic one. Not that that lasts for long when the others realise that it is just as close but without romance so then he’s back to square one with trying to yank you away from the others to get time with you.

✦ His favourite ways to hold and be held by you are either laying down together and being the big spoon, the other is to sit on your lap as you press your face into his back he’ll say he prefers to do that in private but his reaction if you pull him towards you at breakfast says otherwise

Time

✦ He likes to keep a defensive arm around your shoulders, always alert and looking out for any possible threats to you, no matter where they may come from.

✦ He’s the one to move you away from danger before you even realise it’s there, not that the others don’t as well but it’s the speed that time does it that's notable. He can usually get rid of the threat before you’ve even realised it’s there.

✦ his personal favourite way to hold you is having you sit on his lap and wrap your legs around his waist because when you’re sitting like that if anything jumps the two of you he can move and still hold you.

Twilight

✦ BEAR HUGS

✦ The man lives for hugs, at any opportunity he gets he’s going to be holding you tightly to his chest and trying to bury his face into your hair, like he’s trying to imprint the smell of you into his nose (Funnily enough he knows the exact blend of things that go into your hair routine and their amounts now, so if you ever need help with it he’s the one to go to)

✦ He adores holding you like a living teddy bear at every single chance and seeing that he’s much stronger than the rest of the chain he’s usually the one to get his way unless Sky manages to get hold of you and fall asleep first

Sky

✦ he’s so sly in how he touches you, sticking to brushing your shoulder when he walks past or pretending to fall asleep on you whenever you stop for a break. He likes how your skin feels on his, liking to be close to you at every opportunity he can be.

✦ He knows you’re sleepy, so why don’t you just come and lie down with him? He’s far more comfortable than the ground is and he got so scared he would lose you in the last fight, waking up to you in his arms would be such a comfort? Can you really say no with how nicely he’s asking?

✦ It goes without saying that his favourite way to have you close to him is the both of you being intertwined together during a nap, if he sleeps later and wakes up earlier than usual who will call him out?

Hyrule

✦ He used to casually brush up against you and try to wind his hand into yours until one day when you were wearing a cold iron ring and neither of the two of you realised. The yelp when his hand slid into yours and he got burned was one of the worst sounds possible to hear

✦ after that he prefers other lingering touches like his hand staying on your thigh for a few seconds too long after healing you. Or if he does hold your hand it's not before doing a quick look over to make sure you’re not wearing any jewellery that could hurt him

✦ his favourite way to hold you is to just be gently stroking your face or helping to suture your worse wounds before giving you a potion, anything that can draw out his time with you.

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #yandere link #lu sky #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu hyrule #moss✦writes

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pricescancerstickk · 4 months

Note

I looked for a long time on tumblr for a fic similar to my request, but I didn’t find it.. You can request Keegan like adoptive father and girl! child reader?i beg ya (I have such daddy issues bro)

(Sure! Hope you like it ;o)

Keegan x Female Child! Reader!

(Strictly platonic)

Being left out by parents at the young age of 9 what could you really do? Left out alone by one’s own parents isn’t right, it wasn’t right. And it won’t ever be right. Your parents weren’t the best, they couldn’t support you. If anything they were aggressive. So you ran away, It took much courage and bravery to do such a thing but it was for the best wasn’t it? Unfortunately, the world wasn’t a forgiving kind place

It was filled with all sorts of people and it was dangerous, you barely survived alone around town. Being only fed scraps before you were quite skinny, not quite. But really skinny, you had ended up somewhere near a war zone, you only ran and ran. Not knowing where your legs were gonna take you, your mind was saying no, but your heart said yes. It was being torn between one thing and the other. No matter how much you tried to ignore everything and stay calm all the time. Not everyone was strong, everyone had a weak spot. A breaking point. And you had reached yours. Far too early, That was the scary part. You found yourself alone in some sort of war zone. Scared and hearing so many gunshots while all of the commotion happened you had almost passed out from feeling dizzy, not eating. Not being feed and the dehydration, plus no sleep. You couldn’t last so long. You had been missing for so long, you heard footsteps. Flinching at the loud sound of a gunshot you squeaked. Blowing your cover completely. Once being so well hidden,

“Who the hell is out there? Come out now!”

A voice boomed, you held your mouth shut, by now tears welled in your eyes, you didn’t know if this person knew where you were or heard, or saw you. You hoped they hadn’t known where you were hiding, otherwise you would’ve been in trouble. You didn’t like being in trouble. At All. And this was a war zone, it wasn’t a place you ever wanted to go to in your entire life,

“You made sure nobody’s here?” The voice sounded again, the footsteps faded away, atleast you thought so, His voice was stern and direct. His piercing eyes glared right through the people infront of him, his fellow soldiers aswell, he wasn’t much of a talker. He didn’t like talking and preferred to get his shit done and that was it, No Distractions. It was why they all feared him if he was ever angry or in the slightest bit annoyed at anything, the first thing to take his anger out on would be the unfortunate soul who tried to talk him out of his state. This state. The male preferred being alone, it was just his thing and that was that, believing others opinions on/about him didn’t matter much, he knew what he was doing. As long as he had himself, he was ok.

The men along him nodded, with a sigh he walked around, kicking some of the rocks, “The fuck even happened here?..” He got lost deep in thought. Who would even be here anyways? Was what he thought. But heard sniffling. He turned around with his gun and just motioned for the men to standby while they readied their weapons, “Who’s out there? Come out already and stop hiding, surrender. Now.” He looked around the rubble, he looked under and all around. Nothing. But a rustle sounded behind some sort of bush. He walked to it. Shit! Shit! Shit!. Had he found you already?! You couldn’t hold it anymore, as soon as you felt hands pull you from under the rubble you screamed as loud as you can “Let me go!” You cried,

“What. The. Fuck…?”

They were all as equally shocked, nobody expected to have seen a child in midst of war, but for the first time, his heart broke seeing you cry despite he had only now found you, “How long have you even been here?!” He asked slightly angry now, he placed you down and took a knee, “Where are your parents kid?” He asked sternly, but his tone had an underlying tone of concern and worry. He brushed your tears away. But you were unresponsive and when he tried to touch you , you only backed away more, “Hey I won’t hurt you, neither will any of these men will. We’re here to help, alright?—“.

“We have to go now keegan!” Keegan, so that was his name? You thought. Wiping away your tears, before one of his comrades could even speak, Keegan’s blue eyes darted towards the man with an aggressive glare, he turned back to you, purposely softening his tone, “Are you hurt? How old are you, what’s your name?” His voice soothed, you sniffled and looked down, “I-I’m 9 years old..” You said, still afraid of this man.

1) you couldn’t see his face.

2) he was really tall, plus holding a firearm! (Gun),

He seemed shocked, 9? That was so young, it only managed to break his heart more seeing your glazed over eyes, he took your hand and stood up, motioning at the others to get their asses moving, He could tell you were sick. It was really cold today, you must’ve gotten a fever.

Despite the resistance and reluctance of wanting to go with them, he managed to finally convince you despite your fears. There he was, his hand scrubbing the dirt off your cheeks. Despite being half-awake, your face didn’t scrunch up once while he washed you off of anything, he made sure to ask your consent. His heart sank when you flinched when he touched you, how could someone hurt a little girl like you? You were so frail!. “You really need to eat, you know?” He mumbled. Tone softening down to a whisper as he caressed your face softly. You looked up at him a bit, still confused. Looking up at this ‘Keegan’ guy. Still so afraid, and he could see that. He stood up, “Your not still afraid of me, are you?” He asked. Wrapping you in a fuzzy towel he had, wrapping two arms under your legs and picking you up, you didn’t weigh much to him, he was used to lifting and all. His extensive training in the military served well, although his uniform was a bit stained because of you splashing him and resisting just a little bit earlier, afraid and it made you feel bad, “M’sorry” you chirped softly. He nodded, giving a reassuring look of ‘I would never hurt you”. It was written all over his face - or his mask.. he didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t have any intention to. “If I wanted to hurt you I wouldn’t have helped you.” Keegan ran his finger to the bruise on your forearm, he held your arm, you winced a bit, “it hurts..pl-please don’t touch it,” you said softly, while he had done giving you spare pajamas he had as a kid, although Keegan didn’t know himself why he kept those, he treated them a bit, tending. Your little nails dug into his palm to help slightly handle with the pain. “You have to take some medicine for that Fever you got,”, He wiped your tears, but came back holding a small bowl of some soup inside, there was some chicken and cut up vegetables inside, he couldn’t really cook, but he learned to make soup for the sake of this. He sat down beside you on his own bed, he gave you to hold the bowl. But he was so lost, confused what he was doing with a child now clinging onto him like he was her life depended on him, he was hesitant on ever taking care of kids. But now. It was ok. But when he mentioned medicine and it clicked in for you, you were scared again, you threw up after taking medicine sometimes.

“Listen, please take some medicine, ok? Then you can eat, it’s good.” But hesitantly. You took the medicine, he could tell it didn’t taste or smell the best. He helped you swallow some of it before you started drinking the soup, you gulped it down slowly but surely. In a small a mouth of time. Being hungry for so long you’d eat anything. Head resting on his chest for support, he was holding you like a baby to his chest. You’re back to his chest. His chest rised up and down slowly. Calmly to soothe both of you and him, both parties. He took the bowl and set it aside, picking you up again and setting you on the bed, he closed the lights and tucked you in with a small tap to your cheek, “Get some rest now.”

“Wait!” You stammered at the last second, scared. He turned around. Tilting his head as he leaned on the doorframe. Asking what was wrong, “Please don’t go..I’m scared of the dark-can you stay? Pretty please?” You mumbled the last part slightly inaudible. Not realizing you were biting those small nails his hand clamped softly around yours, causing a slight whine from you, “Can’t have you getting more sick than you already are, though, say—? Tell me how you got there, hmm?”

His stern tone slightly faded now as it had came back a bit earlier, he let go of your hand and sat beside you, “m’tell you tomorrow..” you lightly spoke. Laying down, curling a bit into a fetal position to get most warmth as he covered you with an extra blanket. He nodded, “I understand if you’re uncomfortable. But now. You need to relax a bit, hun”

Seeing you fell asleep so fast, he smiled softly. Shutting the door

“See you in the morning,”.

#call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #mw2 call of duty #cod #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan russ x you #platonic #child reader #child reader x keegan p russ #mw2 x reader

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