#that man wants nothing more than to be a father AND HE IS ONE.

[kpopnstarwars]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: ty taylor swift i attempted to base this fic on your song but then i divulged as normal

tw: 18+, smut, p in v, inkpie, oral (both recieving), sub feyd by which i mean feyd is DOMMED, spit, degradation + praise, one spank kinda, swearing, lil bit of crying, mention of evil baron activities so sa + pedophilia, tiny mention of cheating but none actually happens, lmk if there's anything else bc lbr there probably is i just forgot it

wc: 3.9k

Feyd-Rautha has gravely underestimated you.

It is true that you are not strong in terms of Harkonnen definitions, but you expected a man destined to father the Kwisatz Haderach to be able to see past that. What was that the Bene Gesserit were saying about superior genetics? You don’t see even a glimpse of that in his frosty gaze when he regards you - he looks at you as if you’re a delicate vase that may shatter in the lightest of breezes. He thinks he needs to fear breaking you.

He misses how you miss nothing.

You are not Bene Gesserit; you are merely one of their pawns, a genetic machination produced from centuries of manipulations and deceptions, but you can read a man better than the majority of their number.

The seething jealousy in the clenching off Glossu Rabban’s fists is like a monster sinking its venom laced fangs into his heart: starkly evident to you - as evident as the barely repressed, parasitic fear of inadequacy that lurks like a second beast within the first. Just the same, the gazes the Baron sends your husband do not escape you. Nor does the caged, wild look that washes over him whenever you leave his uncle’s chambers: the look of a man who inside is still a boy, relief washing over him that he has left unscathed and untouched for another time.

Even more nuanced than that, you see the vulnerability within Feyd-Rautha. He craves to be loved, the way he should have been as a child, when instead he was desired; all this at an age where the most he should have been doing was playing with carved wooden toys at his parent’s feet.

He believes no one can see the last, soft sliver of his heart that he’s fought to preserve, that wants nothing but to have someone to be vulnerable with, just because he’s buried it so deep inside of him that sometimes even he doesn’t think it’s there any more.

But you see it.

You see beneath it too, to a place that he himself is not fully aware of. A place where he hates who he has become - a wild, savage creature, bleeding from wounds that do not seem to close up, slipping in its own blood when no one can see.

It’s from here, from this place, that the urge to preserve you somehow originates. He thinks you are a flower whose petals will easily be crushed in his heavy, calloused hands, and he is wrong; in a strange way it endears you to him, that he believes that he is too rough to hold you. You do not think it is quite love - not yet, at least, it is only the third month of your marriage - but when you see him fighting to not be the beast that he is before you in an effort to spare you, something that is not just pity stirs in your heart.

You can hear him now, pacing, cursing under his breath in the antechambers. Sometimes he sleeps there, on the narrow sofa, and you’ve come to realise it is those nights when he wants you most. Aside from your wedding night, he has made no other attempts to produce an heir, and you find his restraint valiant, but stupid.

He could try as hard as he liked; he would not get anywhere close to breaking you.

Rising from your seat on the small, ornate stool at the vanity, you push open the door to the antechamber and take a step into the room. Feyd pauses his pacing with his back to you, and you can see the tension in his shoulders and the rigid way he holds his body before he turns around to face you. His pupils are dilated, his eyes dark, and you watch him regard you with something too untethered to be restraint.

‘Am I keeping you awake, wife?’

You shake your head. ‘I had not retired yet.’

You know he expects you to explain why you’ve interrupted him, but you remain quiet - your silence is as much of a tool as your words. He doesn’t speak either, but his eyes tell you enough; they do not leave your frame, hungry, torrid, and his fingers twitch as if they ache to slip you out of the simple shift you wear to sleep and touch you everywhere, to explore the curves and dips of your body.

Tilting your head, you smirk. ‘If you wish to give me your heirs, husband, I would advise another method that differs from staring one into me.’

‘You don’t know what I want,’ he growls, but his face tells other tales.

Stepping forward, you reach out to him but he backs away. Still, the sheer thirst in his eyes sears away at you, even as his actions fight against it, his fingers closing on the doorknob. His hands are steady, his shoulders too, but the tightness in his muscles betrays him as always. Usually, you’d let him go now, but tonight you wish to see how far he will let you push him before he pushes back, so you snare his forearm in your fingers, tugging at him as he turns the knob.

He doesn’t look at you. ‘Don’t test me.’

You smile, cloyingly so. ‘Why not?’

Lightly, you trace your fingers down his chest, straightening the fabric of his black shirt while you gaze thoughtfully up at him through your lashes, lips curving upwards at the indecision in his eyes. He fights it, wrestles with the burning need, but in the end, he prevails, transforming it into a streak of anger that colours his voice as he tears himself from your grasp, recoiling as if your touch ignites pain within him - and maybe it is pain, that he wants you so but fears to indulge himself.

‘Get away from me.’

Feyd-Rautha does not give you a second to do so, because he is the one haring down the dimly lit corridor, his jaw tight, nails digging into his palms. Truthfully, you have never seen him move that fast, not even in the arena, and it almost makes you laugh - the great na-Baron fleeing from his wife and his own lecherous thoughts.

Maybe you did not win this round of tug of war, but he has asked something of you - to get away from him. Over the next few weeks, you follow this to the letter, avoiding him like the plague; you do not interrupt his pacing in the antechambers, nor do you haunt the bedroom like you normally do, asking him questions that he cannot answer. Feyd-Rautha is sensitive to change and you know he will seek the reason for it.

There is a barely cloaked intensity in his eyes when he finally corners you, and under it, you detect recognition: he sees that you are not who he thought you were, and he sees that you are not so different from him - always observing, always planning, and so, mind shatteringly hungry.

You were just dropping by the bed chambers to gather some of your clothes. The night before, you’d relocated yourself to one of the guest bedrooms - you could sense Feyd’s resolve cracking, and you knew that this would break it for certain: coming into his chambers to find them empty, wifeless, your side of the bed damningly cold. Jealousy is clear in his eyes as he backs you against the vanity, filling you with a rising sense of triumph.

‘What has caused this change in your behaviour, wife?’

You raise a brow, faking confusion. ‘What change? I would argue it is your behaviour that has changed, Feyd, you who can barely stand to be in a room alone with me.’

He snarls. ‘Who were you with last night?’

‘I thought you wanted me to get away from you,’ you reply, keeping up your pretence a little longer. ‘I slept in the guest quarters. You do not reciprocate any of my advances.’

‘Advances?’ He echoes, incredulous. ‘You taunt me, wife. It’s like you want me to break you.’

Cocking your head, you regard him coolly for a moment, letting some of the sharpness of your unmasked gaze leak through, letting him see the calculation in your eyes - you see the wariness it incites in him as he realises again that you are not who he thinks you are. Wordless, you lean in close to him, bringing your face to his, hovering there.

And then you let your arm drop and make a swipe for the knife at his belt.

Fast as a viper, he catches your wrist in your fingers, but you smile, challenge in your eyes as you bring his second blade to his neck. You’d slipped it out while he was distracted with your other hand, and he blinks at the cold press of it to his skin.

‘That’s the problem, isn’t it?’ You murmur. ‘You’re not scared of me, you’re scared of breaking me. Who’s afraid of little old me, huh? No one is, Feyd.’

‘They should be,’ he whispers, and when you meet his gaze, it sets you alight.

‘Indeed,’ you reply softly, letting your lower lip brush his.

As he kisses you, his hands seizing your face and locking you to him, you hook his knife’s blade in the collar of his shirt and drag it down, slicing the fabric until it flutters to the floor. Pulling away, you take him in - the moonlight planes of his sculpted chest, the broadness of his shoulders, his roiling, keen gaze. This man whets your appetite in the darkest kinds of ways: you cannot wait to ruin him.

Absently, you trace the outline of the tent in his pants with the tip of the knife blade. A breathy noise leaves him, and he freezes as if he can feel the cold kiss of the metal against his skin; you laugh, delighted that he is so mouldable in your hands.

‘Get on your knees,’ you command, seating yourself on the end of the bed.

It’s captivating, his lack of hesitation as he follows your orders. He sits back on his heels, looking up at you, and you can tell that he’s letting you see him like this, you can tell that if he didn’t want you to have him like this, you wouldn’t, but still, you reach out, gently skimming his shoulder with your fingertips.

‘All you have to do is say, and I will stop,’ you say.

He dips his chin. ‘I do not think I’ll have to.’

You smirk, something savage and powerful and thrillingly depraved rearing its head inside you, awakened by the sight of the na-Baron kneeling at your feet. That will be his last coherent sentence tonight.

Pausing, making him wait, you lean down a little, inspecting his features, the ardour in his eyes. He looks at you as if you hold the universe in your hands, as if you hung the stars in his sky, as if you are a  goddess, and he wants nothing but to worship you until he is expended.

You spit on him.

It lands on his cheek, and his eyes widen a fraction. A shudder wracks his body, and he simply stares up at you, breathing heavy, before slowly, his lips part, and he sticks out his tongue, his request evident. You grab his jaw, squeezing so that he opens up wider, and spit in his mouth - the low groan that leaves him as he swallows is fucking delectable.

His cock twitches in his pants when you pick up the knife. Tracing the blade over the shell of his ear, over his cheekbone and over his lips, you marvel at the way he holds still, awaiting what you’ll inflict on him next like a good little toy.

When the metal reaches his jaw, you nick the skin, drinking up his sharp intake of breath and the clench of his fists as the blood trickles down the column of his throat; you catch the droplet of crimson on your tongue, licking a careful stripe up his neck, grinning when you catch his lips in a kiss and he trembles at the taste of his own blood. Feyd is greedy, his tongue brushing against yours as he leans up into your touch, the way his mouth works against yours hot, fervent, pleading.

Planting a palm to his sternum, you push him back, chuckling when he strains to follow you, eyes glazed, lips swollen. You spot a streak of red and swipe your thumb over his lower lip, wiping it off before standing.

‘Get up, strip, and get on the bed,’ you bid him, pulling your own shift over your head.

Feyd scrambles to follow your orders, yanking his pants down, and you take your time to admire his muscle sheathed body; strength ripples beneath his skin, a sweet dichotomy to his weeping cock, rock hard and flushed rosy. He halts his movements, as if he’s pinned down by your appraising gaze.

‘For whom do you wait, husband?’

As he turns to get onto the bed, he’s a little too slow and you swat at his ass. A choked sound leaves him, and you laugh at the way his knees almost buckle. Feyd’s ears run red when he lies down on the mattress, and you straddle his thighs, sneering at the way he twists his fingers in the sheets, squirming beneath you.

‘Pathetic.’

You don’t give him time to respond, instead wrapping your fingers around his cock and pumping up and down fast, and he gasps at your rough touch, his back arching and his hands coming up to touch you - you wave them off you, meeting his eyes.

‘No touching,’ you intone, the hint of warning in your voice enough to render him obedient.

This time, you take his cock head in your mouth. He’s so fucking sensitive, reacting as if the sweep of your thumb down the underside of him and the slide of your tongue over him is mind shattering; it doesn’t take you long to get him teetering at the edge of his orgasm, just for you to pull away at the last moment.

His thigh jolts, weak pleas of your name leaving his lips, gripping the sheets so hard you wonder if they’ll rip. Again, you take him in your mouth, deeper, one hand dipping to play with his balls; you revel in the wretched sound that he makes when you hollow your cheeks around him, your teeth grazing up his length. You toy with him until you think he’s moments from breaking, until he’s writhing upon the sheets, face contorted in pleasure loaded with sweet, sweet agony.

‘Please let me come,’ he whimpers, voice cracking, the look in his eyes crazed, pitiful. ‘Please.’

You decide to give it to him, jerking him brutally fast until he comes; it hits him like a tidal wave - his eyes roll back in his skull, his body tensing, rigid and impossibly taut before he goes boneless, a broken cry of your name on his lips as he spills all over his stomach. A single, ecstatic tear slides down his cheek as his orgasm seizes him, snatching him up and shaking him like a ragdoll.

Lingering at his side, you wait until he’s come down from his high before getting up to retrieve a damp cloth from the bathroom, perching on the bed beside him and cleaning up his come, pressing kisses to the surprisingly soft skin of his hips. One wavering hand comes to rest in your hair, and you glance up at him, biting back a smug grin at the dazed look in his eyes.

‘Feeling okay?’

He nods.

‘Words,’ you chide.

‘Y - yes, na-Baroness. Better than okay.’

You raise a brow at that. You did not specify for him to call  you anything, so this is all his doing; he fidgets beneath your gaze, and you note that he’s growing hard again, his cock stiffening between his thighs.

‘Can I…’ He begins, but trails off, thinking better of it.

‘No, little na-Baron,’ you reply coyly. ‘Tell me what you desire.’

His eyes scorch you with their yearning. ‘I want to taste you, na-Baroness.’

You smile. ‘As you wish.’

You lean back against the pillows, letting your legs fall open for him. It’s somewhat comical, the way his eyes widen as he sees your slick cunt, and he swallows harshly - you can almost sense his mouth watering. Carefully, reverently, almost, he nudges your knees over his wide shoulders, bringing his face close to your pussy, admiring you. It’s as if he’s testing himself, waiting to see how long it takes for him to break and taste you.

Lurching forward, Feyd groans, low and deep and right against your clit when he laps at your heat, quickly becoming insatiable as his tongue moves masterfully at the apex of your legs, laving over your clit and curving in and out of you. Bolts of pleasure spear through your body, fierce like crackling lightning at the eye of a storm - he is everything to you in this moment. He shatters you, breaking you and mending you anew.

As he brings you closer, your body begins to shake and your legs close around his head; you suffocate him with your thighs, and you can tell he lives for it from the way he fervently grips your ass in his large hands, kneading the flesh and moaning into your pussy.

Something pulls tight within you, deliciously so, and you cry his name in warning, fingers curling around the base of his neck to hold him still as your hips buck, rutting into his face. Dimly, you can see him grinding into the mattress as you fuck yourself on his tongue - the chafe of his nose against your clit makes you shatter, and you fall apart for him with a ragged cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

You’re still coming down from it when Feyd begins to lap at you again, dutifully cleaning you up, and you twitch with the slight overstimulation, hooking a finger under his chin to see his eyes: his gaze is loaded with the heat of a thousand suns, and yet somehow it is also bleary, drunk. A laugh escapes you, and you tug at his hand, encouraging him to lie beside you.

‘Good boy,’ you hum as he nuzzles into your touch. You can feel him achingly hard against your thigh, and you let yourself catch your breath before reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘Want to fuck me now, hm?’

He nods avidly. ‘Yes, na-Baroness.’

All it takes is for you to half spread your legs before he’s climbing eagerly between them, hesitating before looking up at you for permission. You dip your chin, smirking, and then he’s sinking into you, burying himself inside you.

Voice cracking, Feyd chokes out your name, and he shudders, gasping at the velvet vice of your cunt as it clenches, bearing down on him. Sharply, you rock your hips up to meet his, and this time, a soft, keening whine leaves him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lower lip.

He can barely keep himself from spilling inside you.

‘You can barely hold it, can’t you, my little na-Baron?’

His words come out jumbled, his speech scrambled, mind ground to a standstill by the all consuming heat of your cunt; he babbles out protests, saying that he can, desperate to prove he can, stammering that he wants to make you feel good.

Cruelly, you buck your hips up against his again, and a pained sound looses from his chest, but he thrusts to meet you, hips lurching forward, his arms almost buckling either side of your head. Panting, he pulls out slowly before slamming back in, unable to stifle the whimper that tears from the back of his throat when you rake your nails down his shoulder blades, claiming him, littering his shoulders and neck with bites.

‘That’s it,’ you sigh as he finds his pace. ‘Just like that, good boy.’

A strangled noise tears itself from him at your praise, and he fucks into you, frantic, almost feral. Eventually, his thrusts begin to turn sloppy, and you kiss him in order to steal his breath and taste his fervid moans of your name on your tongue as he comes deep inside you.

Pressing a palm to his lower back, you pin him there, buried snugly within your pussy as you reach down with your other hand and rub your clit hard - it takes but a moment for you to come, and he writhes at the cataclysmic feel of your walls fluttering around him, overstimulating him, his mouth falling open in a silent cry as he comes again with your cunt milking his cock.

Completely spent, Feyd goes limp, and you rub your hand over his back, smoothing circles on his skin with your lips to his forehead. The post orgasm clarity begins to hit him, and you feel him go rigid - slowly, he pulls out, his seed leaking out now that he’s not filling you, and he attempts to get up, but his legs are too weak and he collapses beside you instead, his chest heaving, his eyes still a little hazy, still fucked out, even as he fights for lucidity.

There’s something on his face that cuts at your heart - a look of expectancy, as if he’s waiting for you to get up and leave now that you’ve had your fill of him. Concerned, you reach out, and he leans away from your touch.

‘Feyd,’ you murmur. ‘It was not too much, was it?’

‘N - no,’ he replies. ‘I just…’

Sitting up slowly, you look him right in the eyes. He stares back, bewildered, but you press a finger to his lips, foregoing your own fumbling words to instead recite the pledge of allegiance of a Harkonnen soldier to their general; his eyes widen - you know you have hit home. You’d exchanged wedding vows, of course, but these have a different meaning: you see it in the respectful way it is uttered, a soldier acknowledging his superior’s presence.

You pledge to him not only your heart, but your sword - your service - too.

‘Wife,’ Feyd bites out. ‘Surely you do not mean - ’

‘I mean it,’ you cut in. ‘Every word.’

Again, you reach for him, and this time he does not flinch away, letting you tuck him close to you, his breath coming out shaky. Gently, you tip up his chin, planting a chaste kiss on his parted lips, and he returns it slowly, wondrously, no teeth or tongue, just the gentle brush of his mouth against yours: the innocence of it is bittersweet - has anyone ever kissed him this tenderly?

Carefully, you withdraw, wanting to see him, but he does not let you meet his eyes, instead hiding his face in your neck, his lips at the hollow of your throat. You grant him the privacy of not being seen when you feel wetness on your skin, his hot tears tracking down and pooling in your collarbone - his hands ball at his sides, and you pry open his fingers and lace yours with his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Tightly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him with a hand cupping the back of his head, cradling him to your chest.

Your voice is quiet in the still air, but it carries as if through an arena, a promise arcing through the air like a soaring arrow.

‘You no longer walk this world alone, Feyd-Rautha.’

best believe when i started writing this i did not anticipate the 2x 'good boy's 🧍

dune taglist: @callumsgirl @oh-you-mean-me @insufferablyunbearable

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler #dune #dune two #dune part two #dune 2 #dune part 2 #dune ii #dune part ii #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd-rautha #dune fanfiction #dune smut #atreides #house harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x you #dune x you #feyd oneshot #feyd x y/n #dune x y/n #feyd angst #feyd fluff #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #sub feyd rautha

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile IV

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Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Some angst with a little but of fluff. There is the mention of death but nothing really bad yet. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, it might be the last where the reader and Alastor are children. Next chapter, they might be around 16 or 17. Maybe I'll just drop some bonus scenarios when they are kids but we will see. Enjoy my deers!

You woke up with a tired yawn. You sat up, looking around. It wasn’t your bedroom… oh yes! You had a sleepover and it seemed like you fell asleep in Alastor’s bed. You hoped Marie wouldn’t be too angry, you did say you would go to her bed once you finished playing with her son. You looked next to you but Alastor’s spot was empty, there was only your plushie. You took him in your arms and smiled.

“ Did you sleep well ?” you stroke its fur before kissing the top of its head. You looked around and your eyes fell on Alastor’s microphone… You looked toward the closed door and then jumped off the bed, grabbing the microphone and holding it to your plushie’s mouth. You changed your voice a bit and spoke.

“ I have never slept better !” you nodded before giggling. You squeaked as you heard the door open to reveal Alastor who was staring at you with a teasing smile. You blushed and hid the microphone behind your back. He shook his head, still smiling and walked toward you before taking the microphone from your hand, his face close to yours.

“ I knew you would play with it.” you blinked at him, looking at his bed hair and couldn’t help but smile. He looked cute like this ! “ Eamon told me you were using the microphone.” You tilted your head.

“ Who ?”

“ Our deer. He needs a name, don’t you think?” he stroked your plushie’s head while mumbling “ even if he looks more like a fawn than a deer…” 

“ He is a deer ! I’m sure you never saw one !” you huffed as you squeezed Eamon against your chest. You quite liked the name, you were wondering if it had a meaning whatsoever… 

“ Actually, I did when Father took me hunting.” he tilted his head as he saw your horrified face. He looked perplexed as you took a step back.

“ You killed a deer ?”

“ No, I saw one. And most of them have brown fur, not like ours who have a white one.” 

“ But…  Why is your father taking you with him.. to hunt..?” you asked, confused. Your father also liked to hunt with other adults but he always said that it was a man’s pleasure! Why would Alastor’s father take him with him? Wasn’t Alastor a little too young ? You watched as Alastor smiled at you, teasingly.

“ It’s not for little girls, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t bear it.” He teased you.

“ Hey! I saw things too, I’m not a little girl!”

“ Like what? What did you see?” he asked you with an intense glint in his eyes. You huffed and lifted your face to his, staring him in the eyes. You looked around, as if someone could hear you then you went whispering in his ears, and you were kind of happy to see him eagerly tilting his head toward you.

“ My father tried to eat my mother one day.”

…

…

“ What ?!” he shouted as he stared at you with a big confused smile. You grinned as you nodded, proud of yourself to have made Alastor react so strongly. “ Why ? How ? What?” you laughed as he seemed so lost.

“ We will talk about it… In our next broadcast ! Stay tuned Alastor~ ” you kissed both his cheeks, more of habitude than anything, it was your way of saying hello now. You took as step back as he tried to grab your arm, it seemed like he didn’t want to wait. You laughed as you ran and jumped on his bed, as he tried to catch you. Unfortunately for him, you were faster and you managed to ran out of his bedroom, running into the kitchen where Marie was waiting for you with breakfast.

“ Good Morning mes chéries, I hope Alastor’s bed was comfortable?” she kissed you on both cheeks with a big grin before laying a plate of pancake in front of you. You nodded as you held your plushie on your knees. “ I guess, this is Eamon, right?” she asked.

“ Yes, Alastor named him.”

“ Did he now? This name means, if I remember correctly, “ Wealthy protector.” “ she smiled genuinely at you. Your eyes widened as you stared at Eamon with a big smile. Did it mean that Alastor saw your plushie as a real protector now? You giggled as you began to eat what Marie prepared for you. Alastor came down five minutes after, washed up. He sat next to you and you put Eamon on his knees, you will not tell him that you now knew the meaning of the name, maybe another time. 

“ Next time, we should have a sleepover at my house ! I could show you my room !” you smiled excitedly. Never once did Marie or Alastor come to your parent’s house. Strangely, Alastor furrowed his eyebrows as he smiled who seemed torn. 

“ I… I don’t like leaving my mother alone at home.”

“ But we will choose a day where your father is home!” you nudged him, trying to coat him to come with you at your house. “ Please Alastor… I really want you to come.” you pleaded as you held his forearms with your small hands. “ You don’t want to..?”

He jerked his head toward you with a twitching smile, staring at you. He seemed so torn at your idea. Did he really not want to come to your place? 

“ Don’t look so down dear, we will find a date for you to have a sleepover with Alastor at your place” she held her finger in front of Alastor as he opened his mouth “ and you know what, I’ll do a sleepover with your mother too ! Isn’t it a great idea?” she said with glee. You nodded eagerly and looked at Alastor who seemed less tense, you could even say he looked relaxed. Maybe he was a mommy boy and couldn’t leave his mother for more than a day?

You finished eating and went to the bathroom to wash yourself up. Once you were dressed up you went into Alastor’s bedroom who was already preparing your broadcast of the day. Your smile widens as you see Eamon sitting on a chair next to the microphone. You sat down and let Alastor begin the show.

“ Welcome New Orleans to a new broadcast! We have a new guest here, Eamon our fawn–”

“ Our deer!”

“--who will keep us company for today’s broadcast. Now, today our singer will tell us about how her father tried to eat her mother. What is this story about my dear?” he held the microphone to you and whispered into it.

“ It was during Christmas, I was getting ready to go to bed but I was really thirsty so I decided to go in the kitchen but I saw my daddy.. He had his head in my mother’s neck, her head was tilted back and… He bit her!” Alastor gasped as you continued your story “ I ran back in my bedroom and the next day, my mother had a scarf around her neck even though we were inside the house!”

“ Now that’s a story to tell ! What do you think of it,  Eamon?” he held the microphone to the plushie, both of you stayed silent for five seconds looking at the deer. “ Yes, me too, I have no words!” He said as you laughed at his jokes. You really loved hanging out with Alastor.

After hours of broadcasting, it was finally time to go home. You ran to your mother’s hug as she scrunched down to lift you up in the air. You laughed as you hugged her, you did miss her even if you did have a great time with Alastor.

“ Do you have everything sweetie? Where is Mister Deer?” she asked, looking around. Deep inside, you wished that you could take it back home, but Aalstor needed more than you. You were sure of it.

“ Mister Deer is now Eamon and he is staying with Alastor !” you claimed proudly. She tilted her head but didn’t ask any more questions. She kissed Marie goodbye as you hugged Alastor and you felt a pure sense of happiness as you felt him return your embrace. “ See you next weekend, Alastor! And Eamon, take care of him okay?” you whispered to Alastor’s ears “ and please… Take care of our Eamon, okay?” you waited for Alastor nod then smile” I’ll see you both soon, bye bye !” you waved them goodbye before leaving the house, almost tripping on Husker’ which made Alastor laugh.

You couldn’t wait for next week.

~~~

You couldn't wait anymore !

It’s been three weeks since you last saw Alastor ! You were making a scene in front of your mother as she told you that this weekend once again, you couldn’t go to Alastor’s house. You were crying, you have been such a good girl, each refusal you just accepted that you couldn’t go there but each week it was getting harder and harder. You stomped your foot on the floor even harder, not even hearing your mother who was trying to calm you down.  Your father shouted your name, making you gasp as you lift your head toward him. You weren’t used to him raising his voice to you like this. He kneeled down in front of you, wiping your tears, sighing.

“ Sweetheart, I know you are sad because you haven’t seen Alastor for almost a month. But… I saw his father and he told me they had a bad hunting session and Alastor was injured. You understand that he needs to rest, right?”

Alastor…was hurt? You blinked the tears in your eyes, staring at your father. It couldn’t be. You look at the floor as you felt and anger you haven’t ever felt. It was Alastor’s father’s fault. Why did he bring Alastor hunting in the first place? And what if Alastor was dea–

You fell on the floor, your mother hugging you against her chest. You couldn’t think, there was a big buzzing in your head, just like a radio static sound. Was Alastor really so badly hurt that he needed a whole month to recover ? You lifted your head toward your mother, pleading with your eyes. You needed to see him. You would make him smile, laugh, you would do anything for him to forget his pain. Your mother stared at you for a moment then sighed.

“ I’ll take you to him, I’m worried too. But hush, not a word to your father alright? We’ll go tomorrow.”

That night, when you went to bed, you prayed that Eamon would keep Alastor safe in his room.

~~~

You gripped the plate in your hands. You tried to make Jambalaya with your mother, it was Alastor’s favorite dish so maybe it would make him happy. You watched as your mother knocked on the door. Long seconds after, the door opened to reveal a tired Marie. She kissed you as usual with a, what seemed, a sad smile.  You didn’t even wait as your mother hugged her precious friend, you ran up the stairs, holding the plate against you.

You were going to see him, he was going to be okay, he was going to be alive, he was going to be in his room, you’ll play as usual, you’ll do your broadcast , he was going to make fun of you for being worried, he’ll tease you for crying, he’ll–

You opened the door which slammed against the wall. You were breathing hard as you looked inside the room. Where was he–

“ So unladylike. I could recognize your footsteps anywhere.”

You turned your head toward his bed, the voice coming from under the cover. You walked toward him, your frame trembling. 

“ I.. I made your favorite dish..” you whispered, your voice trembling with each word as you tried to speak out loud. His voice sounded weaker than usual. “ Can… Can I see you?”

“ No.”

“ Please…” you begged as tears began to form in your eyes. Why was he hiding from you? “ I was so worried… My father told me what happened–” You saw the cover flinched.

“ What did he tell you?”

“ That… That you went hunting with your dad and–” you approached the bed and flinched when you felt his hand covering your eyes. You stood still, his hand was warm. He was here.. You felt tears streamed down your face. “ Because of your father you- you have been hurt.” you cried, holding his wrist with one of your hands, the other still holding his plate. “ Alastor, I was so scared..!”

“ Keep your eyes closed.”

You heard the cover falling on the floor as you felt him hugging you against his body. You kept your eyes closed as you finally relaxed. He was okay. He was alive. You furrowed your eyebrows as your felt something soft between you both–

“ It’s Eamon. He stayed with me.” he said as he hugged you tighter. “ I… I wanted to see you, you know. It’s not something I’m used to but… Yes, I wanted to see you.”

“ Are you hurting?”

“ No. Remember rules number two: I’m the strongest here.”

 You laughed as you sniffed. You tilted your head down and opened your eyes. Alastor didn’t want you to look at him but you could look at your deer. You gasped as you saw it. Your white plushie looked reddish? Some parts of its fur were pinkish, reddish? You sniffed once more, it smells metallic? What happened to him? You opened your mouth to ask Alastor but he did ask you to keep your eyes closed…

“ I want to see your face.”

You felt his body tensed but he didn’t say no. He took a step back but you kept your head down, waiting for his answer.

“ Be my guest.”

You’ve never lifted your head so quickly, you might have heard a crack. You stare at Alastor’s face. He was.. He was…

Completely normal.

“ But… but..”

“ You said you wanted to see my face, not my injuries.” he smiled cunningly at you while holding Eamon against his chest. 

“ Why do our deer have pink…red spots on him?” you tilted your head, stroking its fur.

“ I’m sorry. I bled on him.”

You looked up at him, he looked ashamed of himself. You stared at him… Did he keep Eamon against him while he was injured? You sat on the bed, next to him and kissed his cheek with the most care you could conjure. You felt him flinching but he didn’t move away. You kept your lips on his cheeks, you hand against his. 

“ I missed you.” you both said at the same time.

You both stayed together on the bed as you told him what happened in your life, even how you cried because you couldn’t see him. He smiled at you and teased you a little but squeezed your hand tighter. You ate the jambalaya you made, of course it wasn’t as good as Marie’s but Alastor didn’t say anything bad.

Before you knew it, it was time to go. Your mother was calling you from downstairs. You squeezed Alastor’s hand, ready to let go but to your surprise he stood up and went downstairs with you. Your mother smiled at him, saying she was happy to see him well. He nodded with his usual smile and then looked at you as both your mothers kept talking with each other.

“ I promise, I’ll see you soon.”

“ You promise? How do I know if you are going to be sick, or injured once again?”

He stared at you before smiling sweetly. 

“ Let’s make a deal.”

He approached his face close to yours and kissed your forehead. You blushed as your mothers were hiding their smiles behind their hands.

“ You always kiss me good morning, so now, I’ll kiss you goodbye. Now, you owe me a good morning kiss.” he smiled at you teasingly as he took a step back. “ Do we have a deal?”

You blushed but your smile was ten times bigger than usual. You squeezed his hand, never letting it go since you went downstairs.

“ Deal.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega

#hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor scenarios #alastor scenario #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #fanfiction #alastor fanfiction #fiction #alastor fiction #human alastor #human alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fan fiction

[blackypanther9]

If you had a Boyfriend and Alastor meets him – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

WARNING!: Racism, threatening, Offensive behavior AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

A/N: Don’t forget that this is just fanfiction and in the 1920s ! Nothing of this I support ! You are who you want to be, no matter what you look like ! <3 (Art belongs to rightful owner and don't mind the color ! It is just to show you that it is about both versions and indeed Alastor from HH and not a different Alastor !)

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1 @wen01203

Human version:

So...you met this man, yes ? He was an absolute sweetheart. You dated him, without your Father even knowing that you had a boyfriend. Until, of course, one of his coworkers snitched on you by your Dad. He came home quick and demanded to meet him.

You did as your Dad asked of him and your partner came as quick as possible as he heard that your Father demanded to meet him. Now you three sat in the Living room, Alastor stared your Lover down, while he did the same.

“So, Cher, what’s his name ?”, your Father asked.

“His name is BF/n. We met a few months ago and he courted me for 3 months now. He is an absolute Sweetheart, Pa.”, you said happily.

Alastor’s smile didn’t fall, but he narrowed his eyes at your partner. He didn’t like nor trust him.

“Really, mon petit (My little one) ?”

“Yes !”, you chirped happily.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir. I’ve heard a lot about you, from your Daughter. Only good things of course.”, your boyfriend said with a fake smile.

Alastor nodded his head at him in respect, then looked at you again.

“Mon ange (My Angel), why didn’t you tell me sooner ?”

You fiddled with your fingers and looked away.

“I wanted to see if this will even work out, Pa. I also didn’t want you to worry. Don’t be mad, please.”, you said gently.

You never kept secrets from him, but you just didn’t want him to think that you were forced into a relationship. You knew how your Papa was and he was very overprotective. You wanted to see where this was going with your boyfriend first. Until now, he was just like your Pa, a Gentleman.

“I see...Cher...can we talk in private ?”, your Father asked you.

“Of course, Papa.”, you replied and got up.

The two of you went into the kitchen and talked in hushed voices, so your partner can’t hear you two clearly.

“Why didn’t you tell me, be honest.”, your Father pressed.

“Pa, we both know how you are. You are very overprotective. You would have been worried all the time about me and I didn’t want to stress you any more than you already were. You also deserve a break. I wanted to see where this was going for now, before I would have told you anything. Maybe it wasn’t even working out.”, you replied.

“Did he hurt you ? Force you into this ? Anything ?”

“No, he didn’t. He is like you, Pa. A total Gentleman. He was planning on taking me out tomorrow for a little bit of cake and coffee. I could ask him if he minded you to come along. You’ll see, he is so sweet.”, you told him with a smile.

“Cher, I don’t like sweets.”, he deadpanned.

“Papa, they have the best coffee and they have also non sweet cakes. It’s a new Café. Oh, please come along and look at it yourself ! Maybe you like it even so much that you will talk about it in your Broadcast.”

He gave you a long look, contemplating. Then he sighed in defeat and nodded.

“Alright, mon petit. BUT ! If I see him step out of line even ONCE, I will not let you continue to date him.”

You gave your Father an eager nod, which made Alastor smile at you. He loved your smiles and the shine in your eyes. Then the two of you returned and your boyfriend beamed as he saw you smile so brightly. You sat back down next to him, while Alastor sat back down in front of you two.

You turned to your Beloved.

“Hun ?”

“Yes, Darling ?”

“Can we take my Father to the new Café with us, tomorrow. He was never there and maybe he will be a fan of the pastries ! And you might be able to bond a bit, so you two won’t be so tense around one another anymore !”, you chirped.

Your partner chuckled and nodded.

“Alright, fine then. Of course we can invite him too.”, he replied.

You hugged him.

“You’re the best !”

What you didn’t see was how your Beloved glared at Alastor and your Father returned it. They hated each other. Alastor hated him, because he KNEW what your boyfriend was thinking of him already and your boyfriend hated him, because of the thoughts he had of him.

You were about to take a sip of water, as you realized that the glass was empty and the bottle too.

“I will be right back, I need to get some water. Papa, do we have more in the kitchen ?”, you asked.

“No Cher. In the basement is more, if you want. I can go get it too.”, he offered.

“No, no, Dad ! I will get it and you two can talk !”, you chirped.

Then you went off and into the Basement, closing the door behind you. You trusted your Papa to give your boyfriend a chance.

Alastor leaned forward and stared at him.

“Now, what do you actually plan with my Daughter, hm ?”, the Radio Host asked.

“I only plan to court her and make her happy.”

“By glaring at her Father in hatred ?”

“You are mixed.”

“Perfect observation, my good man !”

“How did you get your hands on her ? She doesn’t share any of your looks. She is not yours.”

“Y/n is adopted. Her parents died as she was very young. I found her in the dumpsters years ago and took her under my wing. She knows this, you can ask her. I legally adopted her too, the papers are in a folder.”, he stated.

Your Lover leaned back, scoffing, not believing him. Alastor knew this, but didn’t show his annoyance.

“She could have had a better parent...”, your boyfriend muttered.

Alastor laughed at that, hiding his rage.

“Of course ! You mean those grownups that never treat their adopted children right ? You mean those that use and abuse them for their own gain ?”, Alastor asked a bit triggered.

The teen boy’s eyes widened and he sputtered.

“Don’t even try to lie to me, boy ! I’ve seen my fair share of such, talked my fair share with such kids too. I know parents, that adopt children, well. They wouldn’t even care if they get married to abusive folks ! I am not as blind as you think. I am older than you and I’ve seen more than you.”, Alastor stated, his smile turning grim.

The boy looked away with shame in his eyes. Alastor took a sip of his coffee.

“Just because I am mixed, doesn’t that mean that I don’t know anything. I am very aware what is happening in this world.”

“I....I apologize, Sir.”, your boyfriend muttered out.

Alastor waved him off.

“You are not the first one to offend me, my good fellow ! But know this BF/n...”

The boy looked at Alastor, who gave him a dangerous smile. The boy gulped.

“...if you DARE to hurt my Daughter and I hear about it...I will make sure that you will regret it. All I need is her to tell me and I will tell the Coppers what you did. Do I make myself clear ?”, Alastor asked.

The teen gulped.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good ! Now then-!”

“I’m back ! Papa we need to go shopping tomorrow. This was the last bottle of water.”, you said as you returned.

He looked at you in surprise.

“Already ?! My...the water was empty quicker than I thought, haha ! Cher, are you perhaps a fish ?”, Alastor chuckled out and teased you.

You gave your Father a bemused look.

“Dad...you drink it too and we had only 20 bottles. We both drink at least two each.”, you deadpanned.

Your boyfriend chuckled at that, which made you smile and giggle too. Your Papa was so silly.

“Oh Dear, SILLY ME, hahaha ! I thought we bought more last time !”, Alastor said.

“No we didn’t. This time we should.”

“We should indeed, mon petit.”

“So, what were you two talking about, while I was gone ?”

“Oh, just a bit about your past. Mostly how I managed to take you in, considering you look NOTHING like me !”, Alastor informed.

You giggled and looked at your boyfriend.

“I was adopted, Hun.”, you told him, unaware that he was very rude to your Father about it.

“Oh...”, your Beloved got out.

You nodded.

“He is the best Dad I could have ever asked for though ! He gave me a place to sleep, food, water, clothes anything ! He taught me everything I know, he supports me in everything I wish to try, he helps me whenever I need it and we share each other’s burdens too !”, you said happily.

Alastor could see how terrible your partner felt as he insulted him just earlier. You were so bright and happy. He sipped his Coffee smugly. But rest assured that he WILL kill this boy, if he dares to hurt you. Alastor will NOT hesitate.

Will put an effort into getting to know your boyfriend.

Alastor will threaten him, as soon as you are out of the room, that if he hurts you, Alastor will make his life a living hell.

Your boyfriend will be offensive towards Alastor, for being mixed, having heard bad stories about them and growing up believing them.

If everything turns out well, your Beloved will admit to his foul behavior towards your Father and deeply apologize and explain to him why he was so toxic.

If it doesn’t turn out well, he might hurt you and Alastor will come for his ass.

He will be very put off.

He will try to behave for you.

He will try and support you with your choice.

He will be a bit offended that you kept your boyfriend a secret, but if you have a good enough reason he will forgive you, forget about it and never mention it again.

Alastor will NOT trust your boyfriend for a very long time. He will have to prove himself to Alastor, so he can rest assured that you will be safe with that boy.

He will keep a constant eye on him when he visits, to see if he has any ill intentions towards you.

All in all: Overprotective Father Mode activated.

In Hell:

So...this Demon found you. Yes, FOUND you. He kept bothering you to court you and you decided why the fuck not ? After all, that means you’ll have a boytoy to play with whenever you are bored. It’s a win win for you.

What you didn’t expect was that the Demon male wanted to meet your Father. After he somehow found out that your Father was also in Hell, he kept bothering you to meet him. It became so annoying that you decided to let your Father meet him, to scare the annoying loudmouth away.

So there you stood, at the door of your Father’s Radio Tower, on his very turf.

“Uh...Sweetie ?”, he asked scared.

You rolled your eyes, hating the nickname, but no matter how many times you told him to not call you that, he didn’t listen.

“Why are we here ? This is the home of the Radio Demon...”

“Do you think I am a moron now, BF/n ? I know, you dumb idiot.”, you huffed out.

“Then I think we should g-go.”, he suggested trying to pull you away.

You tore your hand back and out of his grasp, then forced BF/n to stay rooted in place and rung the bell of your Father’s home.

“Hello, who is this ?”, a female voice asked.

“Hello Harpy ! It’s just me, Dear. I need to speak with the Radio Demon. It is urgent. Can you let me in and squeeze me in one of his few breaks to chat with me for at least five minutes, Sweetheart ?”, you asked her warmly.

“Oh ! Of course, Miss Y/n ! Come on in !”, she called and opened the door.

You dragged your boytoy inside the Radio Tower and soon you both stood at the reception desk. A female sheep Demon sat behind the desk.

“Sir, Miss Y/n is here and asked for a few minutes of your time. She said it was urgent.”, Harpy, the sheep demon, said through a small com on her mouth and ear.

You heightened your sense of hearing.

“I will be in the second story of the building, Harpy, Dear ! Just send her in, I always have time for my daughter !”, your Father responded happily.

You decided to stop listening in and waited to be sent on your way. Your boytoy was looking around the whole time, scared out of his mind. Good.

“Hun...please let us go home...”, he said softly to you.

Ugh, nevermind...you want this pussy dead. So annoying.

“He is in his living room on the second story. He is awaiting you, Miss Y/n.”, Harpy said.

You gave her a warm smile, then approached her and hugged her gently.

“Thank you so much, Harpy. We’ll talk later, yeah ?”, you gently asked.

“Only is the Radio Demon allows it.”, she softly replied.

“Oh he will when I ask him to.”, you assured her, then snatched BF/n’s hand and dragged him to the stairs.

“No...elevators ?”

“They are out of order for now. They still need repairs.”, you plainly said.

“So...you know the Radio Demon ?”

You stayed silent as you forced him up the stairs. As soon as you made it into the second story you sped over to a door, you knew to be your Father’s living room door. BF/n was breathing quickly and panicking. You turned to him and smacked him.

“Stop being such a Baby, for crying out loud !”, you snarled.

“S-sorry, Hun...”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. Sorry your ass.

You knocked on the door gently.

“Come in !”, Alastor’s voice called.

You opened the door and pushed your Boytoy inside first, then entered yourself.

“Hello, Radio Demon.”, you greeted, giving him a look.

Alastor understood that you wanted to play a little game, so he tagged along.

“Y/n ! What do I owe the pleasure of having you here today ?”

“I wanted you to meet someone.”

You pointed at the shaking Demon behind you and pushed him in front of you.

“May I introduce to you, BF/n. He is currently courting me and wanted to meet my Father and no matter what I did, he wouldn’t leave it be. So...”

“You brought him here to meet him.”, Alastor concluded.

At that your boytoy’s eyes widened in shock and he stared at you.

“Your Dad is working for the Radio Demon ? He has his soul ?!”

At that your face of a business woman broke and you started to cackle and then laugh loudly, joined by your Father’s own laughter. It confused your toy greatly.

“No, no, no ! The Radio Demon doesn’t have my Father’s soul. The Radio Demon IS my Father.”, you corrected.

You could see all color left on your toys face, leaving it. He was as white as a ghost.

Alastor, your Father, corrected his monocle and eyed your partner up and down, with slight distaste.

“Cher...a few words under four eyes ?”, he asked you.

You nodded and followed him to the kitchen, while BF/n was rooted in place. As soon as the door was closed you braced yourself.

“Since when were you courting someone without telling me ?”, he asked a bit offended.

“Because it is nothing serious, Papa.”

“Nothing ser- are you out of your mind, Cher ? This is very serious !”

“Maybe to you and to him, but not to me. I don’t have any interest in him romantically. He is just a toy for me to use and dispose of. As if I would be falling in love with some demon in Hell, Pa. Do you really think me that naïve ?”

Your Father was very silent at that.

“What do you use him for ?”, he asked.

“Killing a few people for me, getting some errands done for me, making me prepare a meal or a bath after a rather draining day and of course the one thing you hate most. It is rare, but when I am very angry I rather enjoy the pleasures of the flesh from time to time.”

The last part actually made Alastor’s eye twitch, but he knew that he was different from you. While he was not interested, you sometimes needed it. He knew that. You told him after all and he saw you lash out once without...having your needs quenched. It was better this way.

“You seemed annoyed with him.”, he stated.

“He wouldn’t stop bothering me. At first he followed me around like a lost little puppy and then he started to beg me for anything and everything, then he found out that my Father is in hell and just wouldn’t leave me be, while we walked here, he was begging me to take him back home too ! This man just doesn’t know what the fuck he even wants !”

He gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Do you want me to straighten him out for you ?”

“Please do so, because this idiot just doesn’t know when to shut up and just listen.”, you complained.

He nodded and kissed your forehead.

“Don’t worry, Cher. Papa’s got cha.”, he said softly in his creole voice, all filters off.

“Thank you, Papa.”, you murmured and hugged him close.

He hugged you back, tightly, and then you both went back to the living room.

“I heard you were bothering and not listening to my daughter when she tells you to shut up, my good fellow ! We can’t have that now, can we ? Disrespecting my child like that.”

The Demon was shaking in his shoes and shook his head quickly. Alastor snapped a few of his bones, to get bigger and look more menacing.

“If I ever hear another complaint about you, from my daughter, I will personally dispose of you, tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear ! Understood ?”

“C-crystal, S-Sir !”

Alastor shrunk back in size and stared BF/n down with disgust.

“Lovely.”

Then he turned to you, as you entered the room again, and you hugged him again, which he returned. He wasn’t a fan of doing it always in public, but you were his child. He would never turn your affections down. He gave the Demon you dated a harsh, menacing glare, which he gulped at.

You and dating in Hell with actual romantic feelings to a male Demon ? HA ! Never.

He would try to let you have your freedom to date though.

If the Demon annoys you, tell him and he will help you out.

If the Demon you date decides to be a difficult disgrace to you, he will kill them, just say the word.

He will hate the idea of you dating someone very much.

He will always glare them down and make sure you are unharmed.

Alastor will try to control his inner instincts to kill anyone that dared to be near you.

He will be mad at you, but understands why you are dating. Not for love or romance, because in Hell you can barely trust anyone, but because of your more...carnal desires.

He loves you too much as to hurt you in that way and he doesn’t have to worry that you might end up with child, because in Hell, Sinners can’t get pregnant !

So a plus for him in almost every aspect.

He will still worry about your safety though.

He will send his shadow after you and let it constantly watch you, no matter what, just to make sure that you will be okay.

What ? You can’t expect him to just leave you, his pride and joy in life and death, all alone with some disgusting filth ! What if they try and hurt you or even worse kill you, at your weakest moment after you finished to get some much stress relieved ?

Alastor will NOT peek, disgusting. But his shadow will alarm him as soon as you are in need of his help.

Yes, your Father will always find an excuse to keep and eye and ear out for you. You can’t blame him. You are his one and only daughter.

You are his treasure. So better deal with it, because you won’t be able to convince him to leave you alone.

A/N: Yes, I decided to make it different for the Hell part, everyone. Just because I think Alastor raised you like that to never trust anyone who did wrong and in Hell, everyone did wrong, besides the two of you. You two were just sent down because you cannibalized on people. The murders were always justified.

#fanfiction #fem!reader #demon!reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #Hazbin Hotel #Father!Alastor x child!Reader #Teen!Daughter!Reader #Father!Alastor #Father!Alastor x daughter!Reader #Human!Alastor #Alive!Alastor #Demon!Alastor #Human!Reader #Alive!Reader #If you had a Boyfriend and Alastor meets him – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

[milkteahood]

a ghost for a knight

medieval au, chapter 2

chapter 1

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary: an ambush, or an organized crime almost gets you kidnapped

Slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap (reader is in her 20s/ Simon is in his late 30s/ early 40s)

Weeks turned into months and Simon became your shadow. Always there. As cold and dark as ever.

The loud thunderstorm is what awoke you in the middle of the night. Your face scrunched up at the noise, your eyes slowly opening. You blinked a few times before raising yourself up on your elbows.

“Can’t sleep?”

His voice almost made you jump.

“Holy— you scared me” you paused, fist clutched over your chest “I’m still not used to this”

“You will be eventually”

“Or you could get out of my room”

“No”

“Are you even comfortable in that chair?”

“No”

An exasperated sigh left your lips as you allowed yourself to fall on your back. Simon started sleeping in your room ever since your little try to get away moment. If you could even call what he was doing sleep. He was always awake before you and if you woke up for any reason throughout the night, he seemed to always be awake for that too.

***

As the morning sun broke through the window, so did the smell of rain. Your maids were in the room, preparing your clothing, opening your windows and making sure everything was in check before waking you up. Simon was just outside the door. The only times he really left you alone was when you needed to change or bathe.

“Goodmorning” you said to him as you stepped out of your room.

“Goodmorning, your highness” he responded “what do you have in plan for the day?”

“Literature and music classes”

The conversation slowly faded as you were walking down the hallway. You got more used to Simon, as he did to you. The only thing that worried you was the quality of sleep he was getting, so while changing you mentioned to the maids that you wish for a second bed be prepared in your room, in the place of the chair Simon used.

***

After your classes, you found yourself in the library, enjoying a book while Simon was reading one too. He was hesitant at first but you mentioned how creepy it would be to just have him stare at you the whole time.

“Say Simon”

“Yes?”

“How was your life before all this?”

“Before becoming a knight of your guard?”

“Both”

“It was difficult” he said, raising his nose from his book. His brown eyes pierced through yours, almost as if he was begging you to stop asking questions. He couldn’t say no to you, so just please. Shut up. You got the hint.

It was very difficult without your daily activities. You were dying to sneak back into the catacombs of the castle. That was one place you could be alone, and one place no one would ever judge you. But you were scared. You didn’t want Simon to tell your dad about it.

It wouldn’t even matter you thought to yourself. This man is my prison as is.

Simon wasn’t very talkative and you really left like your whole existence was a pain to him. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say the same. Still, growing fond of him wasn’t something you thought you’d experience. You also knew your feelings were misplaced. He wasn’t here because he wanted to. He was here because he was told to. His protective nature over you was nothing more than his need to stay alive. But still, you wondered. How can a man be so caring and not feel anything? You frowned at your own thoughts. Better said, how could you develop feelings for one of your guards. Did you really care about him? Or did you just love the attention. The attention your father never gave you, for he was always too busy running a kingdom.

“Your highness? Are you alright?”

His voice brought you back to reality. You didn’t know how long you have been out of it.

“Yes. Just lost in my thoughts”

He didn’t respond. Of course he didn’t. Your feelings weren’t exactly a priority. As long as your body was safe, your heart didn’t matter.

The rest of the day you didn’t really speak much. But Simon didn’t really seem to mind. On the contrary, he found a break from all your rambling quite refreshing. On the other hand, you were fuming. Mostly with yourself for allowing such thoughts to plague your mind. But could you really help it? Simon was always there. And he was the first person to not take your shit. Everyone else would jump off the castle if you ordered it so. But he would look straight into your eyes and tell you to quit being a brat.

A soft knock brought you back to reality. One of your servants walked in, bowed and began to speak.

“Your highness, the king is summoning you in the throne room” he spoke facing the floor.

“I see” you said and stood up. You didn’t look at the servant. Maybe if you did you would’ve seen he was not a man you recognized. He was not your servant at all.

Simon accompanied you to the throne room, but he stood outside, waiting for you. He wondered what it was all about but did not care too much.

Then, from inside the room, your scream pierced through his head.

“NO NO! WHO ARE YOU! GET AWAY FROM ME”

Simon burst into the room just in time to see these strange men trying to take you away. The king was no where in sight.

“You’re going to be very valuable to an enemy kingdom” one man burst into laughter “who would’ve thought infiltrating this castle would be so damn easy” another snorted.

They didn’t see Simon, they were too busy celebrating their victory. So they also didn’t see when he took his sword and cleaved a man’s head off. Time stood still, you were covered in the blood that spilled everywhere and the men’s eyes were wide. Quickly, they tried to compose themselves. They were many and he was just one man. So they thought it would be easy to take him down. But oh, just how wrong they were. One by one, they all fell, they blood and guts spilling everywhere. Yet Simon stood calm, breathing heavily, he looked at the dead bodies, eyes as cold and dark as ever. Just like a ghost.

When he finally turned to look at you, Simon saw just how scared you were. You were hyperventilating and covered in blood.

“It’s alright now, your highness. Let’s take you back to your room” he spoke, picking you up.

You clung onto him, face buried into the crook of his neck, shaking uncontrollably. He felt almost amused at your reaction, but there was also something else. Something he didn’t really feel before. Something he quickly pushed aside. No, it was improper to even allow such thoughts.

The only people Simon trusted at this moment were his men. And he gave them clear orders to find and execute every single intruder and the rat.

Once back in your room, Simon barely managed to peel you off of him.

“Your highness. I have to secure the door”

You let go and sat on your bed. Simon locked the door and made sure no one saw you enter.

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. But somehow criminals managed to enter the palace”

“Do you think my father is ok?” you asked, hugging your knees to your chest

“I hope so. But you are my main priority for now, you highness” he responded, making your heart skip a beat.

“You should however change. We will be safe here” he said, and pointed to the room connected to your main chamber. It was a bathroom “do you.. know how to do it yourself? I apologize, even your maids are a risk for now”

“I’m not dumb, Simon. Yes I can bathe myself” you responded with a soft chuckle.

That was good, Simon thought to himself. At least you were starting to relax.

You emerged from the bathroom with wet hair and a more comfortable gown, but most importantly, you weren’t covered in blood anymore.

“You should rest up” he said to you “me and my men will figure it out in the meantime”

“I don’t want to be alone”

“You won’t be. I will stay here. I have my men to check the perimeters”

He helped you get in bed and just as he was about to turn away, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

“Yes?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Y/N”

He was waiting for you to continue.

“You can call me Y/N”

“I cannot”

“Yes. When it’s just us. You can”

If you wouldn't have paid attention, you would’ve missed the way his gaze softened ever so slightly.

“Alright then, get some rest then… Y/N” he said and gently stroked your hair after you let go of his hand.

.

.

.

tag list: @sushiumex

#simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #cod #cod ghost #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty ghosts

[allysunny]

Hi! Can I pls request dating headcanons for Bale Batman with a female reader who used to works as his assistant but now helps Alfred with batman related work? Like reader is not a superhero but helps Alfred with his duty? Also reader is a very sunshiny person, kind and loving? Thank you ❤️

Lover's Liaison

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 5.7 words

Warnings: Lots of fluff, workplace relationship, kissing and making out, lots of fluff, lots of pining, idiots in love, suggestive themes and one mention of oral sex but nothing too explicit, use of the word "Batmanning", this was written on the span of 3 weeks so I'm sorry if it sucks or isn't coherent?? Not proofread omg I'm so sorry! If I forgot anything, do let me know!!!

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Oh my god!!! I finally got around to write this one request that I got mixed up a few weeks ago!!!! I love this dynamic so much and want this man to be my boss only for me to bring him coffee and massage his shoulders omg...

As stated in the warnings though, I am in the middle of my final evaluations and exams, so this was written over the span of like,, 3 weeks. I apologise if some things are not coherent or repetitive, I am trying my best but uni is kicking my ass.

Anyway, I'm sorry it took so long anon!!!! I hope you enjoy this <3

Being Bruce Wayne’s assistant meant a lot of things.

It meant you sometimes pulled all-nighters when your boss decided 8 hours of work simply wasn’t enough.

“Ah, I'm so sorry, but I'm busy that day,” you said sheepishly after Mr. Rivers from Accountancy asked you out for dinner. 

“Come on princess, can’t you tell your big boss to give you a free night? A pretty thing like you shouldn't have to work that much. C’mon, let me show you how a real man should treat you.” He said, cornering you against a desk and inching his hand closer and closer to your waist. 

You looked away uncomfortably, silently praying for him to sense your discomfort and walk away. You didn't want to hurt his feelings or make him mad. You were afraid he’d take it out on you, or worse, on Bruce, by causing harm to his company - and you couldn't have that. 

“Mr. Rivers, I – “ 

“Chet, please. Do call me Chet.” 

“Mr. Rivers,” you repeated, pressing uncomfortably against the desk, not wanting the man’s hands on your body. “Please, this is hardly appropriate. I must go back to my office, and – and – “ 

“I’m sure your boss will understand. You can’t possibly tell me he’s hired you for your skills now, can you? He understands you’re a pretty girl. Surely, he should've known someone would snatch you up, hm?” Mr. Rivers’s grin was catlike, in the worst way possible. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and tears welled up in your eyes at his insinuation. Surely that was not all Mr. Wayne had hired you for, right? He complimented you on your choice of clothing, sure, and he’d once or twice gifted you pieces he said he knew you’d look lovely on. But he had also more than once commended your work ethic, thanked you for your efficiency and praised your skills. He valued you as an employee, not just someone he could look at. Right? 

“Actually, Mr. Rivers, I employ all of my workers based on their skills,” a voice boomed behind the accountant, firm and unwavering. Chet Rivers turned around only to be met with Bruce Wayne’s hard, stony gaze. “And it seems I clearly must've made a mistake with you, because if I had known you’d be treating my employees like this – especially my personal assistant, I wouldn't have allowed you to set foot in Wayne Enterprises. You disgrace my father’s memory by engaging in this type of behaviour inside the company he built.” 

Mr. Rivers scrambled to find a reply, only to stutter a few times and shake his head, at a complete loss for words. 

“Out. Now. I want your office cleared by the end of the day.” 

“But – But Mr. Wayne, I – I have been in this company for years, I – “

“If your office isn't cleared by the time the clock strikes five, I will personally ensure you will never land another job again and carry around a note claiming you are a known sexual harasser. Are we clear?” Bruce said, eyes darkening.

“I – Sir – “ 

“The clock is ticking. If I were you, I'd make quick work of packing.” 

With a few more incoherent words, the now ex-employee was out the door, and Bruce was slowly walking up to you. He gave you enough space to walk away, should you want to, but kept at a friendly distance, should you want him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked in that sweet voice reserved for his closest people – you. 

You nodded quickly, rubbing your arm in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn't want it to come to this, to you firing him. It really was nothing –  “

“Nonsense. He was harassing you. You told him you weren't interested and yet he still pursued you. He should've known ‘no’ is a complete sentence and left you alone. Understood?”

You nodded once again, looking at the floor. Bruce walked even closer and lifted your chin up with your fingers, forcing you to look at him – and yet his grip wasn't bruising. It was soft, feather-like. Bruce touched you as if he was afraid you’d vanish right before his eyes. Maybe he was. 

“It’s not your fault that he acted like an ass. Got it?”

Another nod. 

“Say it for me.”

Your heart would always follow Bruce Wayne. You couldn't refuse anything from him, and so you found yourself whispering a soft “It’s not my fault”, which earned a smile from him. 

“And you’re an amazing worker. You’re efficient and smart, and extremely kind. You're the best personal assistant anyone could've asked for. I hired you for your skills, not your looks. You're extremely competent. The only competent worker around here.” 

You chuckled, familiar with that line. 

“Understood?”

Another curt nod – this one more confident. 

“Say it for me. Please.”

“I’m extremely competent.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

He then seemed to snap back to reality and let go of your face, stepping back. 

“I’ll be in my office for the rest of the afternoon. If you want to, you can have the rest of the day off.”

This caused you to shake your head and smile confidently at him. 

“No need for that. Gotta make sure I do my job, right? Otherwise, who else will?” 

Bruce chuckled at this, and it made your heart flutter. “Exactly.” 

“You haven't eaten yet, so I thought…” you shrugged, handing him the plastic salad containers. 

“What would I do without you?” He asked, looking up from his computer to be met with the most dazzling smile. 

“I’m not sure. But I'm glad I can help.”

“You eaten yet?”

“No sir, not yet.”

“Join me.” 

You didn't have to be asked twice. You found Bruce’s presence relaxing, calm. You liked to be around him. Lunch breaks, just like overtime, allowed you to truly meet the man behind the suit, and you cherish that time with all your heart. It also allowed you to take a good look at him, at his handsome features, his strong jaw and hard eyes that could turn soft within mere seconds. At his lips, so often pressed into a straight line, but also capable of saying the kindest of words. 

Unbeknownst to you, he also took these moments as an opportunity to drink in your beauty. The lovely curve of your face, your sweet lips that managed to brighten up his days, be it with your words or your laughter, the eyes he always looked for when he was nervous, the body he so wished to pull close and worship. 

He was completely whipped by you. And yet he had no idea how to go about it. 

He couldn't just ask you to date him – he was Bruce Wayne. Whoever he dated would be dragged into the public light, and he didn't want people prying into your personal life the way they did to his. Worse than that, he was your boss. He didn't want to taint his company's image by appearing to be some sort of creep who harassed his workers into sleeping or being in relationships with him. He was the boss, of course, and could smother any and all rumours and make sure his company’s image remained the same as his father would have wanted it to be, but most of all, he wanted to protect you. From the scrutiny of coworkers and papers and crazy paparazzi. 

Little did he know, you’d go through all that trouble for him. 

“Be mine,” he said, forehead touching yours as you caught your breath. “Please, be mine. I’m crazy about you, and I can’t keep pretending I’m not. You’re such an incredible woman, so brilliant and bright,” he mumbled, fingers drawing patterns on your skin. “I’m crazy about you. I know I shouldn’t, because I’m your boss, but I just can’t stop thinking about you. I know that I’m asking a lot from you, and if you’re not interested, then you can just say no. We can forget this has ever happened, and it won’t change the way I see you at work. If you want to quit, you can also do so, and I’ll give your next employer the best of recommendations. But,” Bruce lifted his finger to brush a strand of hair away from your face, “I just had to let you know how I feel.”

Although only a few seconds had passed, your silence seemed to extend for hours, and Bruce was ready to carefully put you down on the ground and throw himself off his window, never to be seen again. But when you placed both your hands on his cheeks, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness he hadn’t had the privilege of experiencing in years, he felt hope blossom within him.

“I am yours,” you replied softly, afraid that words louder than those would burst the small bubble of happiness you were hiding in. “I’ve been yours since the day I stepped foot in here. You have my heart, Bruce Wayne. All of you. The smart you, the cheeky you, even the arrogant you that sometimes belittles subordinates over their incompetence – but quickly makes up for it with heartfelt apologies, because that is what your parents taught you. But most importantly, you. The real one. I’ve been yours since day one.”

Bruce offered you one of his beautiful smiles, the genuine ones that had your stomach flipping over itself and leaned over again. You welcomed his kiss with a sigh of content, and a soft sound that sounded awfully a lot like a moan, which had Bruce grip onto you tighter and kiss you a bit rougher. He was tugging at your pencil skirt, and you were just about to make quick work of his tie, when the door to his office burst open.

Without a second thought, Bruce quickly covered your legs with his arms, and hid your face so whoever had just walked in wouldn’t be able to look at you. It was the least he could do to protect you right now, but it was either that or nothing.

“I see you’re quite busy, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius Fox’s voice boomed through the office, a cheeky tilt to it making it known that the sight before him was amusing rather than scandalous. “I’ll return later, if you want me to? Or perhaps, not at all. What if I fax you?”

Bruce chuckled and nodded towards his employee. He could feel your quickened heart rate speed up under the gaze of someone else, and while he felt sorry you two had gotten caught, he couldn’t hide just how adorable you looked, clinging to him like that.

“That’d be perfect, Lucius.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. Miss.” Lucius said your last name before leaving and closing the door behind him. When your boss took one good look at your face, he felt the heat on your cheeks and neck, and laughed before pressing a kiss below your ear.

“How come Lucius came in here without knocking? Where the hell is my assistant?”

You smiled sheepishly and ran your fingers through his hair – something you’d always wanted to do. “I don’t you,” you mumbled. “Bet she’s slacking off.”

“I must disagree,” Bruce quipped back, “She’s the most hardworking woman I’ve ever met. No way she’s slacking off.”

“Then she’s probably making out with her boss.”

“Only because he’s crazy about her.”

“She’s crazy about him too.”

Life was perfect ever since.

You couldn’t be seen together for obvious reasons, but that didn’t keep Bruce from stealing you once or twice. Extended lunch breaks, pre-company meetings meetings, post-company meeting meetings, you name it. You’d be on his lap, lazily kissing his frown upside down, next to him, helping him with contracts and files that had been sent incorrectly (and that he could easily fix by himself, but he loved having you near him, and you loved to help), and once or twice he’d had you on top of his desk with him kneeling before you, or sprawled on his couch with he laid on top of you, helping him with that he claimed to be a performance check.

After a few rumours broke out that you had slept your way to the top, you asked Bruce to quit the company. The women in the company, who faked their sympathy and niceness to you because they were utterly jealous of your position as Bruce Wayne’s assistant scowled once you walked past them, giggling and calling you names. You’d tried to ignore them at first, but after the fifty-second “Whore”, you were a sobbing mess, crying on Bruce’s shoulder and begging him to fire you so you wouldn’t have to deal with that any longer.

How typical of you, Bruce thought. Willing to lose your job so someone else won’t have to, even if that someone else’s behaviour is unacceptable. He knew your reasoning though, knew that if he were to fire said women, it’d backfire on him, and all the rumours would be confirmed.

It was a terrible idea really.

But he was also Bruce fucking Wayne, and such things did not matter to him. So instead of firing you, he made his intentions very clear in front of pretty much the entire company at a special anniversary dinner, by kissing your breath away. You were stunned to say the least, when he loudly introduced you to everyone as his lovely girlfriend and said that should anyone have a problem with either him or you, they should take it upon themselves to talk to Bruce personally.

Later that night, he held you tightly in his arms and kissed your forehead, promising that he would never hide you or your relationship from the world ever again. You, on your hand, promised to not listen to the tabloids and the paparazzi.

That was the first time you confessed your love for him, which he eagerly confessed back, before he was tugging at your clothes and his lips were pressed to your neck.

One night, as you were leaving a restaurant with your friends, you were pulled to a dark alleyway and held at gunpoint. The attacker, a man you did not recognise, told you to call your rich boyfriend and started going on about how much he wanted for you. Bruce did not pick up, which made you panic, and made the attacker get even angrier. But before he could do anything about it, a dark figure emerged from the rooftop above you two and knocked the man to the ground.

You’d never seen Batman up close, but he was as intimidating as everyone made him out to be. He tied the man up, called the Gotham Police Department, and you could make out his gruff voice saying something about a Chief Gordon. He then looked at you, and you felt so small, so vulnerable, so weak. Here you were, an insignificant nobody, being saved by Batman. Batman, of all people, who probably had more important things to do other than rescue nobodies like yourself.

But the gentleness in his voice as he asked, “Are you okay?” snapped you out of your trance. Gone was the intimidating vigilante. Before you, stood someone who seemed to care about you and your wellbeing. You nodded and told him you were a bit shook up. He asked you to tell him exactly what had happened, and so you did, carefully going over all the details. Once you mentioned your boyfriend’s name, Batman seemed to wince. You did not understand why.

He took you home, and although you couldn’t quite tell what, there was something in Batman’s presence that made you feel safe, cared for. It was familiar, comforting to be near him. Like you’d known him all your life.

Bruce, on his hand, was freaking out. You’d been targeted because of him. Him. Him. Him. You were going to get hurt because of him. And he’d pay whatever fortune he had to just to keep you safe, but if you’d gotten hurt, he would never be able to forgive himself.

He spent a few more minutes outside, to make it less suspicious, and tried to act surprised when you told him how Batman had saved you.

You hid the details from him though, simply saying you were going to get mugged. You didn’t want to worry him – he was too preoccupied about your life together as it was, trying not to track down whatever assholes wrote those nasty pieces about you in the morning papers, and trying to focus on you instead of the photographer three tables down whenever you went out for coffee.

The two of you were idiots, really, trying to protect each other at all costs.

It only took a few days after the assault for Bruce to break, though. He told you everything, spilled all his secrets about Batman as if he were a sinner in church confessing all his sins. You were shocked, to say the least, but it all clicked in your head quite quickly. The comforting presence, the gentleness in Batman’s voice, the safety – it was all Bruce. Of course it was.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, “Please forgive me. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been there…”

“But you were,” you took his hands in yours, gripping them tightly. “You saved me, Bruce, and that’s all that matters. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re going to be fine.”

“It’s not safe for you. If anyone finds out about me, they’ll use you, they’ll get to you, and – “

“You managed to keep your identity a secret all this time. I’m sure you’ll be able to keep doing it.” You leaned towards him and kissed him softly. Bruce responded in kind immediately, taking you in his arms and kissing you with the passion of a man madly in love. His hands roamed your body, fingers deftly remembering every curve and arch and every place that made you whimper against his lips and tighten your hold on him. Within minutes, you were laying on your back, fingers tugging at Bruce’s hair as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you, promising – no, swearing to keep you safe forever and ever, declaring his devotion for you.

Some weeks after, he popped a question. Not quite the question, but a very important one nevertheless.

“Quit your job.”

“What?”

“Quit your job at Wayne Enterprises. I can take care of you. I will take care of you. Everyone knows we’re together, and as much as I don’t care about the nasty rumours and petty comments, you’re way safer here.” Bruce took your hand across the couch and rubbed circles on the back of it, thumb brushing against your knuckles. “Alfred and I found out who the attacker was. Remember Chet Rivers?”

“The accountant?”

“To say he was angry would be an understatement. He went after you because he knew it would hurt me. I won’t have this happen again. I love you so much and I appreciate everything you have done and continue to do as my personal assistant, but if this job puts you in harm’s way again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You offered him a sympathetic smile. It was so like your boyfriend to put you first in every situation.

“And what would I do?”

“Anything, as long as it wasn’t too dangerous.”

“I think everyone in Gotham knows me by now, Bruce. And according to your paranoia, that’d pose a threat.”

Bruce rubbed his jaw pensively and you scooted over, sitting on his lap and facing him.

“You worry too much,” you mumbled, stroking his cheek.

“Is it so wrong if I want to keep the love of my life safe?”

“Not at all. But I also need to live, you know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just – I can’t stand the thought of losing you. You’re far too precious for that, and I’ve lost so many people – “

You interrupted him with a kiss, a tactic you found quite effective most of the times. He hummed and his breathing slowed as he relaxed.

“If it makes you feel better, then fine. I’ll quit.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I’ll find something else to do. Maybe I can even help Alfred around, you know. Be Batman’s personal assistant. You think he’s hiring?”

This earned a chuckle from Bruce, and a very tight hug.

“I’ll put in a good word for you.”

He did! And you got the job.

At first, you thought being Batman’s personal assistant (a title you wore proudly, even though it annoyed Bruce – after all, this had been achieved so you wouldn’t have to be anyone’s assistant, so you wouldn’t have to work) would be boring, but you quickly got the hang of it and, of course, excelled.

You tracked down which materials made his suit lighter, which ones made him faster, which ones weighed him down. You made lists of the combinations you and Bruce had come up with, to provide him with the perfect bland of speed and lightness, without making him too unprotected.

You took over Alfred’s position, giving the old man some respite as you communicated with Bruce through the intercoms, looking out for him, reminding him to take breaks and occasionally teasing him with the usual “Wanna guess what I’m wearing?” talk – Bruce would never admit this, but it made him patrol the streets quicker, eager to get home and find out just what you were wearing – or weren’t.

Most of the time, Bruce would beg you to go to sleep after he went on patrol. Most of the time, you wouldn’t hear any of it. You wanted to help your boyfriend wash the day off him, rub his sore muscles and kiss his forehead gently as he relaxed against your hold.

“What’re you still doing up?” he asked once, looking over at your figure on top of his bed. Instead of sleeping, you had your nose buried in some book you’d always wanted to read but had never found the time to.

“Waiting for you,” you mumbled, looking up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Shouldn’t have done that. It’s late.” Bruce walked over to you, and you smiled lazily, lifting your arms so he would scoot over next to you. He did so, clad in a pair of shorts, his batsuit (courtesy of his loving girlfriend) long discarded.

“Didn’t want you to come home to an empty house. Wanted you to come home to a smile.”

“Coming home to you is enough,” he chided, playfully touching your nose.

“Bath?”

“Please.”

You prepared a quick bubble bath and got in after him, sitting with your chest pressed against his back as you washed his hair, massaged his scalp, and rubbed his sore shoulders and back. Bruce groaned a few times, finding your touch something close to a miracle.

“On your right – fuck, right there.”

You giggled at how his words sounded out of context, and got your thigh pinched in return.

“Hey!”

“I can tell you’re being dirty. Stop it.”

“Not at all,” you replied, “’m super clean right now.”

After you were both cleaned, Bruce took it upon himself to rinse you and wrap you in your fluffiest of towels. You were nearly asleep to be honest, eyes darting close every few seconds. Thankfully, your boyfriend would not let go, helping you stand up straight and keeping you from falling to the side.

You were extremely exhausted, and Bruce blamed himself for that, but he couldn’t lie – seeing you wait up for him, to make sure he was safe and sound warmed his heart. He hadn’t felt loved like this in a long time, and every day he woke up and thanked whatever deity was looking over him that he got to wake up next to the woman he loved.

It was domestic, in a way.

And it wasn’t like anything had truly changed – after all, you were still taking care of Bruce Wayne, and he was still taking care of you. It was only your circumstances that had changed. Instead of an office, you worked from home, your new home, Wayne Manor. Instead of bringing him coffee, you’d help Alfred around with cooking and busied yourself with your hobbies during the day, so you could help your husband with his duties at night.

And on his hand, Bruce protected you by protecting Gotham.

Don’t get me or him wrong – he didn’t spend all his free time Batmanning. He spoiled you rotten, taking you out for coffee dates and strolls in the park. Often, you’d find little gifts on your bed, just like he used to do when you worked for him. Only this time, they were a bit more personal. Your favourite books and candles, bracelets with his initials, dresses that left a lot to the imagination, pieces of lingerie for his eyes only to see.

But most importantly, you loved each other. More than words could express. You were the light in Bruce’s light. The reason he got out of bed and downed expensive wool and linen suits during the day, and dark Kevlar ones at night. The reason he smiled more often, the reason he had began to believe in love again. Without you, the billionaire was sure he’d be lost in life. Surely, he must’ve done something great in a past one if he now had you in his arms, in his bed, in his life, in his heart.

These were the thoughts running through Bruce’s head as he held your hand. You were both sitting at a restaurant you’d wanted to try for years (“Bruce, please, I beg of you, just get us a reservation at Dorsia,” you’d whined one afternoon, trying to argue your case with a series of convincing kisses to his neck – and how could he deny you, with arguments like those?), having the time of your life as you told him about your day.

Bruce loved the sound of your voice. He’d let you speak for hours on end, about whatever topic you wanted, if it only meant he could listen to you.

In fact, he didn’t need to do any of the talking.

That night, he only had one question to ask of you, the weight of the small box inside his pocket filling him with both excitement and dread.

He only hoped you would say yes.

He needn’t worry.

If the smile on your face after he kneeled was any indication, your thoughts mirrored his.

You could not wait to spend forever together.

A/N: And that's it!!!! I hope you guys enjoyed this!!!! I'll also take this opportunity to warn y'all that this will be my last Bruce piece in a while! I have other requests pertaining other characters, and honestly, I feel like I'm getting a bit exhausted with all the writing I've been doing for him.

I don't want fanfiction writing to become a chore, so I'll be focusing on other characters for now in order not to lose this spark!!! I hope you guys enjoy those pieces as well <3

Stay safe and have a wonderful day ahead!!!!!!! <3<3<3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[peekawoocc]

LAW X READER

P.s. decided randomly to make a part 2. There's prob gonna be 2 more parts. I'm already in the middle of writing part 3. To be honest, this feels more like part 1.5 instead of part 2, but oh well.

Cw: nothing really, this has fluff and just transitional plot between parts 1 and 3.

(And yes, true to theme there will be a cockblocking element in each part lol. The cockblocking in this is really just interrupted sleep.)

Cockblocked in Wano pt.2

You faintly come to your senses, feeling heat radiating your face. Sunlight.

As you yawned and rubbed away the sleepiness from your eyes you began to sit up. Until you felt something keeping you firmly laid down. The sunlight wasn't the only warmth lingering on your skin.

Looking to the thing keeping you bound to the firm ground you saw quite a beautiful sight.

Law looked like he was having the best sleep of his life. Little did you know, it was indeed the best sleep he's had in a while.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept, a little bit of drool on the corner of his lips. You quietly giggled to yourself and pecked a few kisses to his forehead and cheeks. You could stay like this forever. Maybe being his wife would be better than only pretending. Admiring the peaceful bliss on his face quickly came to a halt as the door to the makeshift house opened quickly and loudly. You and Law both shot up quickly, just to be met with Usopp's disapproving gaze. He looked like a dissapointed father. Sanji and Franky behind him, both of them with their jaws on the floor.

"Are you kidding me, y/n? Seriously?", Usopp said in an annoyed tone.

"What?" You asked innocently.

Usopp quickly grabbed you and pulled you to the side to whisper to you.

"So even after my reasonable warnings, you went ahead and slept with the biggest nerd in Wano last night?"

"HEY! I HEARD THAT!" Law interjected, the once peaceful expression covered in newfound aggravation.

You blushed at the word "slept" Usopp had spoken.

"Wait...WAIT! YOU DIDNT...DID YOU!?!" Usopp began, looking between your flustered face, Law, and the matching kimonos you were suddenly wearing.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY PRINCESS!?!" Sanji yelled, putting the clues together as he started grabbing Law's kimono and yanking him up off the ground.

"CALM DOWN! HER KIMONO GOT DIRTY! I HAD A SPARE ONE!" Law began, trying to save both your asses. Which would have been fine but you knew Law wouldn't lie, so you knew you needed to come up with yet another excuse.

Time to play lawyer again.

It's not that you were ashamed of what you had done together, but you couldn't deny that he'd much rather not have to deal with all of this first thing in the morning. You didn't want to lie to your crewmates, but you definitely didnt want to catch more hell than you already had. Especially when your newfound romance had just began.

"OH YEAH? WHY WAS HER KIMONO DIRTY, HUH?" Sanji asked looking like he was ready to kill Law, more angry with the tattooed man than he had ever been. Even with Zoro.

"Look...those stupid seeds Usohaci left for me went off for some reason. And it directly covered me, so Law offered to clean me up and give me his other kimono," you began, hoping they'd buy it. But as you paused they all stared at you, expectantly waiting for you to continue.

"He was being helpful to me in my time of need," you then looked to Usopp, "and he was there for me at a very vulnerable moment when I really needed him,".

See, he is trustworthy Usopp!

"Oh yeahhhh, then where's your 'dirty' kimono now?" Usopp said in a mocking tone, thinking he'd caught you in a lie.

"It went *poof*," you said expressing the action with hand motions. Which was completely true, because when you remove the clothing kinemon gives you, it poofs back into whatever inanimate object it originally was.

"Oh yeah, I forgot that was a thing with Kinemons power," Usopp said the gears turning in his head, turning in your favor of getting the 3 men off your case.

"Wait, but what about those marks on your neck? Are those...*gasp* HICKIES!?!" Usopp said, bewildered and you could see the electricity in the glare Law and Sanji held.

"No no no...the surprise of the seeds going off made me fall...and my neck just happened to land on some rocks...," you had nothing. However, Sanji seemed convinced.

Sanji sighed and dropped his hold on Law. Usopp just shrugged. If Sanji believed you why shouldn't Usopp follow suit?

"Well, thank you for taking care of our sweet lady. I respect you more, for what it's worth," Sanji said calmly as he lit a cigarette.

"Wish I could saw the same for some you damn straw hats," Law glared at Sanji.

"Well, regardless, I think its cute," Franky finally including himself in the conversation.

Everyone raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, you know, because y/n is pretending to be Traffy-dude's wife... and they're wearing matching kimonos. It's starting to look more legit," Franky grinned.

Just when you had gone through so much trouble to make your face deadpan to lie to your crewmates, here you were with a strong red blush on your face. While you were in your head finally realizing that everyone was going to see you and Law in matching kimonos, Sanjis expression turned depressed and Usopp palmed his face in dissapointment of how easily your face gave you away. Making your feelings ever more apparent to your crewmates.

As you glanced among the men, you could've of sworn you saw Law blush, even for just a moment.

You brought your hair to one side of your neck, realizing that you needed to hide Laws marks. This was going to be embarrassing enough.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #fanfic

[flower-boi16]

It's funny that the hazbin fanbase has decided Stella is evil and abusive and that despite nothing in canon suggesting it, that she also hates Octavia.

And its funny because as a child of divorce, she seems to me more like a mother furious that her husband is abandoning her daughter for a sexual fling with a man who doesn't even care about him. Like she's accepted that he's gay and that he's probably had male lovers before during their relationship and that she's his beard but now he's asking for a divorce so he can be with a man who doesn't even want him.

Like she knew about his thing with Blitzo and let it slide because he was still there for Octavia and it didn't really affect her but now hes going to traumatize their daughter for no other reason than his own selfish desires.

Hell, throwing all that out the window, maybe shes furious because she's scared. We don't know any goetia lore (thanks Viv) and since they seem to function like old European royalty, maybe Stella and Octavia will be punished or disowned or even killed because Stolas divorcing her means she loses her social standing, power and worth. Maybe they'll be thrown to the streets and have to fend for themselves without any money, friends or places to go, with sinners and hellborns who might want them dead around every corner.

Either way, Stella just. She comes off as a mother to me. A mother who hurts for her daughter, a mother who wants what's best for her, a mother who's scared for her, a mother who sees that her child needs her father and is repeatedly, constantly and intentionally cast aside for a man who wouldn't care at all about her father if he wasn't holding something over his head.

Sorry this is so long lol

I think the reason why people think that she hates Octavia is because the Stella we have right now is already an incredibly one-note asshole. The show itself never bothered giving any nuance to her character so why would the fans? That being said, I wish we got to actually know her relationship with Octavia.

Does she care about Octavia? Does she love Octavia? Or does she not give two shits about Octavia? We don't know.

And I don't think we ever will. It just sucks seeing how little nuance Stella has as a character, the show made her into a one-note abuser just to make Stolas look more sympathetic and so it can use her as a scapegoat for his flaws.

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Two - Your arrival in Winterfell stirs more than just feeling within Jon. Ch 3

He is an honorable man, not as honorable as his father or his Uncle Benjen, but he strives to be as good and true as they are.

The thoughts that enter his mind as he looks down at Lady y/n do not make him feel honorable. She’s beautiful, with emerald eyes and thick lashes, snow dusting her hair, the light of the moon giving her a crown of light, one befitting a princess. That’s what she is—practically is, the daughter of a Lannister, not any Lannister but Tyrion, the imp, the clever one. Jon could study for a hundred years and never come close to the knowledge her father possesses.

His own boldness surprises him, the way he claps his cloak around you, securing it deftly, lingering a moment too long, wishing to spend eternity mere inches from you, breathing in your perfume. It’s light, floral, and sweet, perhaps jasmine? Sansa had been given a bottle once, she hadn’t liked it, preferring the scent of vanilla, and had thrown it out. Jon remembers how he retrieved it from where she had disposed of it and secreted it in his room. That night he dreamt of a future; one he knew he could not have but craved anyways. He had a keep, and a wife, a pretty, sweet wife who smelled of jasmine, and children who had his curls and ran to him smiling when he returned home. He would take them all into his arms, his children, his wife, and would be loved.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that you had been watching him, that he had heard the sharp intake of breath when he lifted his tunic to wipe the nonexistent sweat from his brow. He had known you were there by the sound of your bracelets clattering against the stone wall, the sound of your half step in the snow. He could feel your gaze burning into him the same way it had when you first arrived.

The lovely Lady Lannister, that’s what he’d taken to calling you in his head. The sound of your laughter was like bells, the smile you gave Bran and Rickon, the interest you paid to Sansa as she prattled on, it ensnared him.

So, he lingers, desiring nothing more than to gently tuck back the hair that the wind has blown in your eyes, to caress the curves of your face, to brush his lips against your own if only to know the taste for one fleeting moment, to pull you closer and drown himself in the scent of jasmine— he wants you. It’s a shocking thought, not that physical desire is unknown to him, he’s not a child, but this is different. He’s always known his place, known to rein himself in, but now? Now he has to jerk himself away, cast all thoughts of you from his mind lest he fall upon you like a madman and ravage you in the snow.

His throat tightens at the thought of what the Lannisters would do to him if he disgraced you in such a way, nevertheless what his father would do.

There is a flicker of hurt that flashes in your eyes, he can see it in his peripheral, but he stands strong. You’re not for him, you’re too good for him, he’s not worthy, what could he give you? Snow, that is all he could give, and snow is not enough for his lovely lady.

After he escorts you back to the guest chambers, he sets to walking, wandering the halls in the darkness, his mind so entangled he nearly misses the muffled cries. They come from an alcove, further down the hall, and he approaches carefully.

The sight he comes upon makes his heart drop, it’s Anna, one of the kitchen staff, a sweet girl with dark hair and joyful eyes, she is young, a year older than Arya. She’s curled in on herself, her clothes torn, her face wet with tears. There are even some marks, some bruises beginning to form.

Jon drops to his knees, holding his hands out and calling her name softly.

Anna looks up at him, startled, a doe nearly in flight. “Lord Jon—I—I am so sorry—”

He shakes his head and shushes her gently. “What has happened.”

Her bottom lip trembles, her voice thick with tears. “The prince, he—I was only trying to return to my chambers, I was not tempting him I swear, but he grabbed me and…” She burst into tears once more, burying her face in her hands.

Jon clenches his jaw, he had heard rumors from the other servants, stableboys who came with the Lannisters, he had hoped they would prove untrue. “Anna it is not your fault, please, let me walk you to your chambers, then I will call Laurayn to come and sit with you.”

Anna took his hand, her own trembling, and lets him tuck her under his cloak, keeping her close as they made their way to her chambers.

“I will tell my father the truth of it; you will not be blamed.” He promises her, letting out a slow, steady breath to keep from raising his voice in righteous anger and startling her. Anna was kind and meek, she did her work diligently and didn’t cause any trouble, she should not have been attacked in her own home, his father would not stand for such violence against one of his people.

Anna shakes her head, clinging to the door frame of her chambers, tear tracks down her cheeks. “Please Lord Jon, do not tell him, I cannot bear the shame.”

“It is not your shame to bear Anna, it is his, that cruel prince, you did nothing wrong.” Jon says, the words coming out more forceful than he intends.

Anna shrinks back, and he apologizes softly, tucking his hands behind his back.

“No good will come from Lord Stark knowing, Prince Joffrey is heir to the throne, there is nothing that can be done, I will not be believed.” She says, resigned to her fate.

He has always felt caught between two worlds. Too common for the nobles and too noble for the servants, but he prides himself on keeping a strong rapport with those who serve in his home. Prides himself on striving to protect those who are more vulnerable, which is why it wounds him so that there is no action to be taken for Anna.

Laurayn arrives, wrapped in a cloak, her hair in disarray, and she thanks Jon before ushering Anna into the dark of the servant quarters, leaving him staring at the thick wooden door that closes behind them. It’s not right, Joffrey should be held accountable for his actions, Anna should not have to suffer in silence.

His jaw clenches and he turns on his heel, stalking back to his own room. There’s nothing to be done, and soon he will be at the Wall, he will be able to fight to protect everyone there. He will join a band of brothers dedicated to upholding the sanctity and safety of the North, of the continent.

Ghost is waiting for him, curled up beside the fire, raising his head, at his approach. Jon sinks onto the floor beside him, resting his head on the wolf’s flank, and scratching that spot behind his ears. He stares into the fire, breathing slowly like Old Nan taught him, calming his mind. Ghost gave a huff and licked his ear before laying back down, content.

He awakes on the floor, his body stiff, Ghost slumbering beneath him, the fire nothing but cooling embers. The room is cast in shadows, the moon full in the night sky, and a strange melody floats through the air, reminiscent of the wind whistling through the parapets as Jon gets to his feet to pull the curtains closed. His window overlooks the Godswoods, he draws comfort from the sight, and closes the curtains swiftly before turning to remove his clothes and slip into his night clothes.

The melody grows louder, no longer sounding like the wind, but high-pitched screaming, it pierces through him, and he stumbles forward, throwing open his door and falling into the hall. The hall is doused in blood, bodies lying strewn about and strung up on the walls. Jon pushes forward, bile rising in his throat, seeking the source of the screaming, if only to make it stop. His footsteps echo and squelch, he keeps his eyes forward, his mind racing even as it feels he is fighting through molasses with each step towards the sound. Where is Robb? Where are Arya, Bran, his father? Theon, Sansa, Lady Catelyn? Where has everyone gone?

The screams die down replaced by heart-wrenching sobs, and the hall transforms, it’s no longer his home, instead he’s in a holdfast he’s never seen before. The walls are lined with Baratheon and Lannister banners, the carpet plush beneath his feet. The world spins, his head reels, the wind knocked out of him as if he’s been knocked to the ground during sparring, then there is a door before him, half opened and marked with blood. He pushes it open carefully, and steps into another foreign hall.

It's much smaller than the Great Hall of Winterfell, with panels of richly carved wood and sconces made of silver mirrors, reflecting the torchlight. High arched windows on the south wall allow the daylight to stream in, and through them, he can see what some part of his mind whispers is King’s Landing. The sight would be beautiful if not for the carnage the lay before him. Dozens of bodies litter the floor and against the far wall is you, slumped to the ground, your sobs echoing off the ceiling, your gown darkened with blood as you clutch your father’s body. The scent of winter roses mired by the stench of blood seeps into the air, choking him.

He cannot stop himself, he retches, the sight, the smell, the sensations, all too gruesome to bear.

“Jon?” Your voice is weak, choked with tears and disbelief.

He wipes his mouth and looks at you, his feet moving without his command. He doesn’t want to approach you; he doesn’t want to see the dead, not like this.

You’re badly injured, the blood on your gown ever spreading, a sickly tint to your skin. “How could you do this? How could you leave me?” You sob, the look in your eyes hollows him, digs into his soul and dumps it among the corpses at his feet.

“I—what is this? I do not know what has occurred.” Jon says, keeping his eyes steadfastly on you, and away from the corpses.

“I was able to help Sansa escape but—there was no time, I could not go with her.” Your words are broken by a fit of weak coughs, speckles of blood covering your hand.

Jon’s heart bangs against his chest like a war drum as he reaches for you. “Do not try to speak, I will carry you away from here. We will find a maester, then Sansa, then we will go North, my father will be able to help.”

“Your father is dead, murdered, and Robb will soon follow. Our—our bannermen, they rose for the wrong bastard.” You mumble, your eyes threatening to close, your head lulling forward.

Jon kneels, and gently lifts your head, fear striking through him at your words. “What do you mean, Lady y/n who killed my father, who will kill Robb?”

You grab the collar of his shirt with surprising strength. “You cannot leave me, you cannot go to the Wall, Stannis will come, he knows, he knows about Joffrey, Jon, he will kill us all.” You cry, eyes alight with fear. “Promise me, promise you will protect me.”

The scent of winter roses returns, mingling with your jasmine perfume. His tongue is heavy, the words catch in his throat.

“Promise me.” You beg, your grip failing, your shattered expression so painfully clear it’s like a dagger through his chest.

“I will, I will, I swear it. By the old gods and the new.” Jon says, stumbling over his words as he gathers you in his arms.

A kick to his side startles him awake, and Arya stands over him, her eyes shining with mischief. “You cannot sleep here all day; you promised you would help me train.”

Jon Snow TL: @mostclevermiss

Grey title card = Jon POV Red title card = Y/N POV

#meg's writing #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #jon snow x oc #jon snow imagine #jon snow imagines #lannister!reader #jon snow #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #Changed up the title cards #for fun

[jelzorz]

176.

Soren has a dragon that he's had since he was three.

It's one of the few genuinely happy memories he has from his childhood. Most days he struggles to remember any at all—so much of it was posturing and conflict and useless efforts to win his father's pride. It was not the simplest childhood, certainly not the happiest, but Rexy is still in his quarters, and when Soren looks at him, he thinks of games and laughter and the warmth of his mother's arms against the winter cold.

He's still pretty fond of him, even now. He's dusty and old and beat to shit, his left eye loose, his dye faded, and Soren's not going to pretend he doesn't pull him down sometimes to defend him from invisible armies (a perfectly normal twenty-eight year old thing to do, thank you), but Rexy's definitely seen better days too, and Soren thinks of the twins that are supposed to be arriving any day now and thinks it might be time for a little bit of a makeover before Rexy goes back into the fray.

"That's so sweet," chuckles Callum, as he examines the loose stitching at Rexy's ear. "But I gotta be honest, Soren, I dunno that he's gonna make it even if I do fix him. Kids can be really rough."

Soren doesn't doubt it. Callum and Rayla's little girl is barely eighteen months old and she's a terror to anything in the castle smaller than her. "I still think it's worth trying," he says. "If he goes down, he'll go down in battle, and there's no nobler end for a toy."

"True," snorts Callum. He fiddles Rexy's loose eye and tugs it free. Soren tries not to wince. "You've had him forever though. I know he means a lot to you. Are you sure you wanna let your soon-to-be kids tear him up?"

"Mm." Soren shrugs, a little sentimental, a little heartbroken, but resolute all the same. "I don't really have anything else to pass on," he says quietly. "I've been thinking about it for ages, and I—" He huffs. "I just think that Rexy'll watch over them the same way he watched over me. Does that make sense?"

Callum laughs good naturedly and nudges his arm. "Yeah," he says. "I get it." He glances at Soren from the corner of his eye then, and Soren can feel the way Callum studies him, his mentality, his readiness to be a dad. "Are you okay?"

"Mm," says Soren again. This time he shifts uncomfortably, because the thought is terrifying almost more than it is exciting. "I just want to be a better dad than mine was."

Callum smiles and pats his arm. "You've got nothing to worry about there, bud. You're going to be just fine."

"Big assumption," snorts Soren.

"Call it more of an observation," says Callum. "You've done the work. You're always doing the work. That's half the job right there. The rest is just love. Isn't that right, Rexy?"

He raises Rexy then and pitches his voice up an octave. "Don't worry, Soren, I'll keep you in line."

"Good gods."

"Get used to it, man, funny voices are like ten percent of the job."

Soren swats at him, and Callum dodges it only to almost fall out of his chair. "So you'll fix him?"

"I'll do my best," says Callum with a chuckle. Then, more genuinely, he adds, "You're nothing like your dad, Soren. You're going to be fine. Rexy will make sure of it."

Soren barks out a laugh. "I'm sure he will."

(And he does).

#inspired by that one post of Soren and his toy dragon <3 #i also know that callum stitches an antimagic blanky so i imagine he can also fix a plush dragon #also also i specifically did not name the mother of sorens children but if you know you know #(the twins belong to raayllum) #rayllum #(tangentially) #in anticipation

[comrademonkee]

it's like imagine you are 6'2 from texas and your dad left when you were 3 and you've been raised by your single mother who is only 18 years older than you and you were a rotten kid and you just got married 2 years ago and you moved to LA to get famous as a serious musician and you land the biggest TV role of the decade and you get thrown in with 3 other guys you would otherwise have nothing to do with (except for a certain blond man from connecticut) and one of those guys is this little British dude who is a full 11 inches shorter than you and he's a Broadway star and a ladies man and exactly 3 years younger than you (you share a birthday) and his mum died when he was a teenager and hes providing for his old father and he doesn't care about the music in the way you do but you both have the common aim to get famous and recognised for your talents and get money to live the life you want to build for yourselves and your families and you form a bond through humour and ambition and you're always telling each other jokes and you let him live with you for a while when he's between houses and it's like he's the little brother you never had but there's also something else about him that everyone is drawn to and you can't help but be drawn to it too. and maybe you're a little confused and threatened by it but you keep your cool because ultimately you and him fulfill different roles and sure its embarrassing when you go out on the hotel balconies and the girls ignore you to scream the british guy's name to the point where it becomes an inside joke that you repeat for years and years afterwards that they are always screaming for him (and not you) but you admit you feel a little protective of him and affectionate towards him so you grow and come to terms with the fact that this is his group and you're just his backing act. and sometimes you can't stand each other and he threatens you physically when he thinks you step out of line with the blond man that you have conflicted feelings about (even more conflicted than the feelings you have about the British dude who is currently threatening to step on your balls) and he's passionate and he's sweet and he's really really really funny to the point where you can't breathe sometimes after talking to him and he's adamant about keeping the group together all he wants is to stay with you and the other 2 but it's not even been 2 years and you're already drifting away and testing out other things and thinking about leaving. And then the one you were the most like, the blond one who was the British one's best friend and you had conflicted feelings about and were an asshole to, leaves. He quits the group before you did and now you gotta keep these other two afloat because they're not musicians and you don't want to follow right behind the other guy and yeah okay you feel protective of the remaining two and its a little bit like the little guy clings to you but a year later you also quit. but it doesn't end there because you can never get away from the voice of the woman who loves you. Well just imagine that

[vodika-vibes]

The War Chest

A Magic and Knights AU

Summary: It’s been fifty years since the war between Mandalore and Serrano ended. A war that ended with an uneasy peace between the two nations…an uneasy peace that has since grown into something stronger. You are a daughter of one of the Noble Houses of Serrano, though only through marriage. You stand to inherit nothing from your step-family, unlike your mother. So, in an attempt to get your feet under you, you turn to treasure hunting.

Pairing: Pre Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 5400

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @the-bad-batch-baroness

A/N: So, I know Kix already has a story in this AU, but I'm giving him another one that is unconnected from the last one. This one, I think, fits a little better with the rest of the stories. Also, there's a fun little twist at the end that I'm not sure about, honestly. Anyway, I started writing this at 8 am and it's now 2 pm, and I managed to write it without any breaks. Go me~

“Rumor has it,” You arch a single brow as the man you’re talking to, a pirate who you’ve had more than one run in with, “That Count Dooku’s War Chest has been discovered.��

You wave your hand as if brushing the rumor aside, “Everyone knows that Dooku’s War Chest was propaganda from Mandalore.” You counter with a roll of your eyes.

“That was the accepted fact. 50 years ago.” He leans into your space and you lean back to try and keep him from breathing in your face, “Come on, girlie. You’re not even remotely curious.”

“I’m far more interested in facts, Shen. Not fairy tales.”

“Bah! You’re no fun.”

“If you want someone willing to chase fairy tales, you should be talking to Lyna, not me.” You eye your drink, and then push it to the side.

“Lyna is an archeologist,” Shen counters bitterly, “She’s all, ‘this belongs in a museum’ and ‘we should return this to its rightful owner’. She’s even less fun than you!”

“Come on, you tell her about Dooku’s war chest, and she’ll be all over it,” You say as you lean back in your chair, “Can you give me anything more than fairy tales?”

“No.” He folds his arms, “You were more fun when you were running with the crew.”

“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve mentioned. If you’re not going to try and help, you can take off. Find some other patsy to do the research for you.”

Shen scowls at you, and then pushes to his feet and storms away. He hasn’t changed since you were kids, tragic but understandable. 

In any event, you’re not going to get any intel on your next score here. So you suppose that the archives is your next destination. Which is a shame, the archivists are always so annoying when you decide to visit. 

They’re all, “Oh, Lady Nalcin has come for a visit!” Which is annoying since, A, you’re not Lady Nalcin, that position belongs to your mother. And B, you don’t even carry that Nalcin last name, seeing as your father is still alive.

Mother just had to marry Serrano nobility, didn’t she.

You push away from the table and shove your hands into your pockets as you meander through the bar. You step through the open door, into the cool air of the autumn evening and you inhale deeply.

You love this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold, and none of the plants you’re allergic to are spewing pollen. If you could live someplace where it’s autumn year round, you’d be a happy woman.

Tragically, such places don’t exist.

You turn to the left, starting towards the inn you’re staying at for the time being, when you hear heavy footsteps behind you. You tense and half turn, your baton falling into your hand from where it’s stored in your sleeve. 

And then you turn properly.

The person running up to you looks like a college students, slightly younger than you, with wide eyes hidden behind thick glasses. She’s gasping for breath, and is barely able to say your name

But, garbled as it is, she does say your name. 

You slide your baton back up your sleeve, and take a good look at her. She’s well dressed, and she’s wearing a brooch that marks her as a daughter of one of the High Houses. She’s also nearly bent in two trying to catch her breath.

“...are you okay?” You ask, after watching her gasp for air for a moment.

“I-” She gasps out, “Not fit-” 

“...I can tell.”

The younger woman takes a deep breath and then straightens, “My name is Evie Wilsi, I’m the oldest daughter of House Wilsi. You are the daughter of Lord Nalcin, right?”

“Step-daughter.” You correct flatly.

“Yes. That.” She takes a step towards you, “You’re…something of an archeologist, right?”

“In a manner of speaking, sure.”

“I want to hire you!”

“...what?”

The girl flushes, “I…um…sorry. I would like to hire you, please.”

You stare at her and arch a single brow, waiting for her to continue.

“I want to hire you to find Dooku’s war-” You roll your eyes and turn your back on her to walk away, “W-wait!” She grabs your wrist and then scrambles so she’s standing in front of you, “I know that this sounds…insane-”

“Dooku’s War Chest doesn’t exist.” You say flatly, “It was a rumor. No more.”

“I have reason to believe that it does exist.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Look, Miss Wilsi, I don’t chase fairy tales. Period.” You tug your hand out of her loose grip and step around her to continue to the inn.

“2 million.”

You stop mid-step, and turn your head to stare at her, “I beg your pardon.”

Her hands are clenched into fists near her chin, “Two million credits. You’ll get two million credits just for taking the contract, and another two million when you find the war chest.”

You turn to face her fully, “And if the war chest doesn’t exist?”

“Then…then you’ll still get the second half of your payment. But only after you exhaust all avenues.”

“And you can afford this?” 

“Yes.”

Your eyes narrow at her, “Prove it.”

She nods and pulls out her comm, pulling up her banking information, before she turns the device towards you. You glance at the number on the screen and your brows raise, “Four million credits is almost your entire bank account, is this worth that much to you?”

“Yes.” She stows her comm again, “It’s…everything to me.”

You fold your arms, and shift your weight slightly as you examine her. Over the years, you’ve become very good at reading people. Part of it is your natural magic, an innate ability to read intentions off of people, most of it, however, is just experience. 

She’s being honest.

Not only does she believe that the War Chest is real, it really does mean everything to her.

You drop your arms, “Fine. But I want to be paid immediately.”

“Deal! Is there someplace we can…talk?”

You turn your back on her, and start walking away, and then you pause and glance over your shoulder, “Follow.” You don’t want to see if she’s following your instructions, you just start walking, your feet leading you to your favorite food cart.

“A…food cart?”

“Don’t knock it til you try it,” You reply as you order a caf and move to the side to wait until it’s done. Your maybe employer’s nose is scrunched up in distaste.

“Is this where you want to talk?”

“Surrounded by people? No.” You accept the cup of caf, and motion for her to keep following you. You lead her down several winding roads, and then make a sharp left into the biggest cemetery in the area.

You notice her hesitate at the gate, but you don’t slow down. If this means as much to her as she implies, as much as your magic is telling you it means to her, she’ll follow you anyway.

And you’re right.

Though she dithers at the gate for half a minute, eventually she hurries to catch up with you as you head into the older parts of the cemetery. As soon as you’re sure that there isn’t anyone around you can listen in on your conversation, no one alive at least, you perch yourself on the worn down stone wall and stare at the other woman.

“Alright. I’m all ears.”

“Here?” She asks, her voice hushed, “Isn’t it…disrespectful?”

You just tilt your head, “People don’t come to this part of the cemetery, which means no one can eavesdrop.”

“Right. Right.” Evie paces in front of you for a moment, and then she stops, “How much do you know of the Six Great Houses?”

“Assume I know nothing.”

“Right. Right! Okay. I can work with that.” Her hands curl into fists again, “There is a hierarchy to the six families, with House Dooku at the top of the pyramid, and House Wilsi at the bottom. House Nalcin is nearer to the top than the bottom.”

You lean back on the wall and take a sip of your caf, waiting for her to continue.

“This is why, 50 years ago, it was so easy for House Dooku to incite a war with Mandalore.” Evie continues.

“As I understand it,” You interrupt, “House Dooku was manipulated into it by what’s his face from Naboo.”

Evie looks genuinely pained, “You mean Court Wizard Palpatine?”

“That’s the bitch.”

She takes a deep breath, “You’re right. He was, and it was only after Count Dooku was killed that we were able to sue for peace-”

You sigh heavily, “Evie, what does this have to do with the price of chicken in Corellia?”

“...what?”

“Why does this matter?”

“Oh. Well, my family lost a lot of clout during the war…we sided with House Dooku. It seemed like a politically sound choice…so when the peace treaty was signed…we lost almost all of our status. We almost lost our noble name.”

“And?”

“And, finding Dooku’s war chest will do so much in helping us recover from this.”

“If it exists.”

“It does! It does. I’ve been researching this for years, my whole family has, and we have a solid lead.” Evie says as she steps closer to you, “It’s…here.” She digs into her purse and shoves a thin notebook at you, “All of the evidence is there, if you know where to look-”

You set your cup to the side and flip the notebook open, every page is filled with different handwriting. The notebook has clearly been in the works for years.

“Count Dooku had a safe house. He had many safe houses, in many different countries. But in the middle of the war, he vanished for three months. My family thinks he went to Hoth.”

You arch a brow, “Well, if that’s where he decided to hide his war chest, it explains why no one has found it.” 

“Yes! Exactly. According to records, Count Dooku’s safe house was up in the mountains of Hoth, which would be nearly impossible for anyone to traverse at the time-”

“It’s still impossible to traverse.” You point out, “The storms of Hoth never stop, and you need special gear and equipment to survive even the lower parts-”

“Yes, but you’ve done the impossible before.” Evie says, “I mean, you’re the one who found Palpatine’s palace in Mustafar-”

“You’re not wrong, I just hate that you mentioned it.” You mutter.

“Can you help?”

You stare at her, silently, for a moment, and then you sigh and nod. “Yeah, alright.”

“Really! Oh, this is-”

You hold up a finger, silencing her, “Several conditions. 1, I hold on to this for as long as it takes for me to read it cover to cover.”

“Deal!”

“2, you are coming with me. It’s the only way for your family to get all of the credit.”

“Of course. I’ll even pay for everything we need to survive-”

“3,” You interrupt again, “We can’t leave for 6 months.”

“...what! Why?”

“I’m not fool enough to try and climb a mountain in Hoth in the dead of winter. And good luck trying to find anyone who will.” You say flatly.

“...you raise a fair point. So we’ll head out in the spring.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Evie claps her hands together in excitement, “Oh! You won’t regret this! I promise.”

Your gaze drifts off of her, lingering on a dark thread connecting Evie with something else, a thread that only you can see with your magic, “Well,” You murmur, “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it.”

“Hm?” Evie tilts her head, “Oh! Right, payment.” She pulls her comm out and hurriedly, very hurriedly, sends you the two million credits that you’re owed for taking her contract.

You watch your bank account shoot up, and then promptly move the money from that account into your personal account, “I need your comm code,” You say once that’s done, “I’ll call you when we’re ready to leave.”

“I can’t wait!”

And then Evie is gone, hurrying out of the cemetery with none of the grace that you’d expect to see from a lady of her standing. 

You watch her leave, and then pick up your cup of caf and take a sip, while eyeing the notebook thoughtfully, “Well, it won’t be boring at least.”

7 Months Later

Hoth is a miserable place.

Frigid even in the dead of summer, with very few animals that won’t kill you as soon as they see you. 

True to her word, Evie did prepare everything that you might need for an expedition, and then some. You have a base camp, vehicles that are suited for the freezing weather, and cold weather gear that is light enough to move in, yet heavy enough to protect you from the biting wind.

There are also people. So many people. Aides and attendants, and bodyguards. Not to mention maids and chefs and butlers. You’re not impressed, at all.

“So, I was thinking we’d go up the mountain in the morning?” Evie says, her eyes alight with some emotion that you don’t want to think too hard about.

“Mm, bad idea.” You reply, as you eye a group of men that you know come from a Merc Group, “There’s a bad storm rolling in, we go out in it, we don’t come back.”

“Oh, really?” She glances at the monitor and makes a face at the massive storm rushing in, “I should tell the others to prepare for the storm.” Evie mumbles, before she gets to her feet and hurries out of the room.

You’re alone for a moment, before one of the mercs brushes past you. “You should know,” He murmurs, his voice low, “The moment you find this treasure, we have orders to remove you from the equation.”

“Hmm.”

“You saved my life that day on Taris, this is me returning the favor.”

“Noted.” He glances at you, and then continues walking. The exchange took less than 5 seconds. 

Luckily, you prepared for this exact scenario. 

It’s not like this is the first time a client has betrayed you, after all.

You remain in the monitoring room for a bit longer, watching the storm build and grow in strength, and then, when you’re sure it’s late enough, you meander to your “room”. 

You waste some time in your room, packing what few items you need to be able to survive in the storm, and then you cut out the lights, and you wait. 

One hour passes. And then two. 

And finally the lights dim in the hallway, and you know it’s time to go. 

You don the severe weather gear that you bought yourself, grab your bag, the notebook, and you slip out the window.

As you figure, you have about five hours before anyone notices that you’re missing, and by the time they notice you’re gone, the storm will have erased any and all evidence of where you might have gone. 

You walk quickly through the snow, wanting to get as far as you can before the storm hits. Though, you do take the time to veer towards a ravine just long enough to toss the notebook as well as a decoy pack down the ravine. With luck, anyone chasing you will think that you succumbed to the storm and nature.

The trick won’t work for long, but it will buy you a couple of hours, at the minimum. 

That done, and with a storm moving in, you veer towards the mountain range. According to some of the notes you decoded, Count Dooku had pathways dug through all of the mountain ranges. You just need to find an entrance.

Luckily for you, Dooku wasn’t half as clever as he thought he was, and you were able to find an entrance in less than two hours. Unluckily, the passageways aren’t heated or lit.

You dig around in your pocket for your lamp sphere and light it with a touch of magic, ordering it to circle your head as you walk through the empty tunnels. 

“Let’s see,” You say, aloud, to yourself, “If I was Dooku and needed to hide a war chest, where would I hide it?” You look around, peering down identical dark passages, and you sigh.

If you have to search every passage, you’ll be here for ages. There has to be an easier way.

You close your eyes for a moment, and focus your magic on your eyes, and then open them again.

Your natural magic isn’t the most useful for your chosen career path. You can see intentions, which is useful in foreign countries when it comes to bartering and when dealing with clients. 

It is an innate magic, you don’t have to focus on it at all.

However, if you focus your magic on your eyes, and if you’re lucky, sometimes you can see traces of people’s intentions. Memories, written on the world around them.

It’s a desperate act. Dooku has been dead for almost fifty years. The odds of any of his intentions having been strong enough to leave an echo so far into the future is…unlikely, but you have to try.

As you fear, there’s no hint of intention in any of the passages.

You’re about to power down your magic, when you catch a glimpse of something higher than where you are. You focus your gaze on the dim glow and you frown.

The intention is…strong, but faint at the same time.

You puzzle through what you’re seeing. Strong implies that someone is actively in the passages with you. But the faintness implies…slumber, perhaps. Maybe someone lives in these passages.

Well, it’s better than continuing blind.

So you mentally mark the location in your head, and you start heading that way.

It takes time, though, to find the right path that will take you to the right level. The passageways were designed as a labyrinth, and you wonder if the passages aren’t complete, or if Dooku was just that paranoid near the end of his life.

You’ve never heard one way or the other. 

But finally, after many dead ends, several looping paths, and one time when you thought you were going up but were actually going down, you reach a door.

You send a silent prayer to the patron god or treasure hunters, and then push the door open. 

It creaks loudly, and another hard push causes it to fall inwards. “Whoops.” You whisper as dirt and dust swells around you. You wave the dust away from your face, and then step into the room properly.

It’s…empty.

Well, okay. Not really empty.

There, sitting in the middle of the room, is a massive crystal formation.

It looks man-made, to your eyes. Crystals don’t generally grow in such a deliberate way, at least not in your experience.

You move closer to the crystal and circle it, your eyes narrowing thoughtfully. 

Now that you’re closer, it looks like there’s something inside it. You press your hand against the stone and try to peer through the cloudy material, but you might as well be trying to look through a solid wall. 

You rip your gloves off, and press your bare hands against the planes of the crystal. Slowly you feel around the edges of each plane you can reach. And then…there, near the bottom, on the opposite side of where you started, you find a single sigil carved into the crystal.

Now, sigils and runes are basic magic.

It is, quite literally, magic 101.

But you’ve never been interested in modern runes or sigils, preferring to focus more on the more ancient versions that you normally encounter while on your treasure hunts. 

That said, runes are runes, right?

They all get activated in the same way.

So you pull your hand back and summon a small amount of magic to your fingertips, and press your fingers against the sigil. “Please don’t be a bomb.”

For a moment, nothing happens, and then there’s a loud crack. And then another one. And a third. 

And you’re forced to dive out of the way as the crystal shatters, sending large shards crumbling to the ground.

Then you see what was in the middle of the crystal, and your heart sinks.

It’s a man. Maybe about the same age as you, or a bit older, with a strict military cut and a five o’clock shadow. He’s wearing mandalorian armor, with the symbol of the medical corps on his shoulders.

You hurry over to him and kneel next to his head as he releases a low groan. You push your hood off your head, and tug your scarf down and goggles up as his eyes flutter open.

He looks like-

Your lips turn down in thought. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” You ask, shoving your concerns to the side.

“Y-yes,” His voice is raspy and he blinks a couple of times, as if trying to clear his vision.

“What’s your name, soldier?” You ask, as you help him sit up.

“Kix…M’name is Kix.” He groans as you sit him up and he looks around the room, and then at you, “Your accent…you’re not Mandalorian.”

It’s not a question.

“Good ear,” You pull your bag off your back and dig through it, please let you have enough cold weather gear for him. “I’m Corellian, born and raised.” Kriff, you don’t. 

Kix looks around, sharpness sliding through his gaze as he shakes off the sleep, “This isn’t Corellia.”

“That is correct.” You reply, before cursing, “How good is that at keeping you warm?” You ask with a nod towards his armor, and the helmet laying half forgotten in the shards of crystal.

“Good enough.” He lets out a pained groan as he gets to his feet, “Why?”

“Well, because it’s a wee bit chilly outside, on account of us being in Hoth.” You reply dryly and you stand and grab his helmet. You make sure that there aren’t any crystals inside the helmet and you offer it to him.

“...Hoth?”

“The one and the same.”

“What is a Corellian doing here?” Kix asks suspiciously.

“Well, I was hired to find Dooku’s war chest.” You glance at the crystal shards, and then at Kix, “And I found it, apparently. I’m not generally in the business of saving people, but I suppose I’ll make an exception.”

“...what?”

You glance to the side when you hear, what sounds like, magic explosions, “Times up, I’m afraid.” You look around, and then find another door, “This way, hopefully this door stood the test of time better than that one.” You pull your scarf and hood back on, “Put your helmet on, it’s freezing.”

Kix pulls his helmet on, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “What’s going on? What’s with the explosions?”

You glance at him, before you focus on the door, “Oh. My former employers. The Wilsi family from Serrano. I was informed that they were going to kill me once I found the War Chest, so I decided to cancel the contract.”

“You keep mentioning this war chest, what is it?” Kix asks as he walks over to you and helps you open the door wide enough that the pair of you are able to leave the room. 

“Well, unless we find a vault full of riches, I think it’s you.”

Kix pauses, “What?”

You glance at him, “There’s no easy way to say this, but it’s been 50 years since the war between Serrano and Mandalore ended.” He freezes, and you quickly tug him out of the room and shut the door, “Listen to me, Kix, I know that this is a shock to you. I know that. But if we don’t start moving, we die here. Can you contain your totally understandable freak out until we’re somewhere safe?”

It’s kind of eerie, having that blank helmet staring at you, but slowly Kix nods, and you release a sigh of relief.

“Come on, this place is like a maze. Maybe we can use that to our advantage.” You turn to the left, and Kix falls into step behind you. 

All you have to do is find a way out, and make sure that neither you, nor Kix, die. And then, somehow, get him back to Mandalore.

No pressure.

“Can we take a break, please?” Kix asks as he helps her close another door, leaving the pair of them in a slightly warmer room, “I can’t hear the explosions anymore.”

She frowns, though it’s only noticeable because she pulled her scarf down a little bit ago. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve apparently been in stasis for fifty years-” And isn’t that a kicker, how is he supposed to deal with that? How can he deal with that? His brothers are all going to be in their 70s- “I just need a break, that’s all.”

She nods, and tugs her hood down, before she sits on a rock, stretching her legs out in front of her. Kix watches her for a moment, before he sits on another rock, “So…who are you, anyway?”

She blinks, and then laughs, “Sorry, I never actually introduced myself, did I?” She introduces herself with a slightly crooked smile, “My mother would have my head for such rudeness.”

“And what is it that you do?”

“I’m an archeologist. Technically. That’s what my degree says at least.” Her name, something long and complicated, does not suit her at all. So Kix makes a mental note to just call her runi, and then moves along.

“That sounds like you don’t actually do archeology, runi.”

“Eh, I go to old places and look for old things to sell to people who would rather stay safe than do things.” She waves her hand.

“Ah.”

“What?”

“You’re a tomb robber.”

“I am not!”

“Oh, so you have permission to take these items then.” Kix asks.

“I…well..not exactly. But I haven’t exactly been denied permission either-”

Kix smirks, “Tomb robber.”

“Yeah…well..what do you do?”

“I’m a medic. A perfectly respectable career that isn’t illegal.” Kix replies.

She huffs, but doesn’t respond, so Kix takes it as a win. 

“So, I assume you have a plan?” He asks, “To get us out of this mess.”

“I have a broad idea of what needs to happen, but as for the details…not so much.”

“...what?”

“Why plan? I mean, they never work out like they’re supposed to.” She shrugs, “But in the end, I do intend to get you back to Mandalore.

“And you’re going to do this without a plan?” Kix asks.

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

He heaves out a sigh and then stands and pulls his helmet back on, “Maybe I should stick around with you. Stars know how you haven’t been killed yet.”

“Rude,” She scowls at him, but scrambles to her feet and pulls her cold weather gear on as well, “I-” She pauses and her head snaps to the side, “Motherkarking-...they’re planning on blowing up some of the tunnels. We need to go up and…over, I think.”

“Then let’s go. I’ll follow you.”

Kix watches as she leads him through the winding halls, pausing every now and then as though she’s following a path that only she can see. Having some kind of magic would make her survival a lot more understandable, all things considered.

He very nearly stumbles as a massive explosion makes the whole mountain shake, and Kix has to tackle runi through a door to keep them both from being crushed. 

Turns out to have been a good thing, as the room they ended up in had a single set of stairs that lead somewhere else. It’s good enough for Kix, as he hoists runi to her feet and ushers her to the stairs and up.

And up.

And up.

Finally she throws open a door at the top of the stairs and they find themselves in a workshop of some kind.

“This must be where Dooku did his magical studies,” She notes as she peers at some of the books lining the walls. 

“Wouldn’t there be a teleportation circle in here somewhere?” Kix asks, thinking back to the wizards tower back in Mandalore.

“Well, yeah. Probably. But I’m not wizard, I might be able to make it trigger it’s last destination, but-”

“This mountain is coming down, like it or not. Anywhere is better than here.”

“Ugh…fine! Help me find it.”

The pair search frantically around the room, before Kix lets out a shout of triumph. “Found it!” Runi hurries over to him and, with Kix’s help, clears the teleportation circle. 

“Um…let’s see, it looks like it’s set to teleport somewhere…west?” She says as she scans the runes.

“West is good enough.” Kix shoves her into the circle as the building trembles, “Can you activate it?”

“Can I activate it.” She scoffs, “Of course I can activate it, but I have no control over where we land.”

“Better there than here,” Kix points out logically, and she makes a face, but clearly doesn’t disagree.

The runes start to glow, faintly at first, and then brighter. 

Runi pulls her hands away from the seals, her eyes widening in panic, “Oh…oh bad…”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Um…” She turns panicked eyes on him, “The runes and sigils are reacting to the magic of the explosions…they…this is bad.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Kix asks, and runi opens her mouth to reply, but before she can say anything the teleportation circle activates.

It’s the most painful thing that Kix has ever felt in his life, and he’s almost grateful when he blacks out.

His last coherent thought is that he hopes runi is okay.

Kix wakes with a groan, this is beginning to become a habit for him. His everything is throbbing in pain, and it’s funny but his first thought was to question where his armor went.

“Easy there, vod. You’re okay.”

Kix squints at the man, one of his brothers, “-where?”

“You’re on the Resolute. We found you and the civvie passed out near a bombed out building. Seems like you threw yourself over her to save her.” Kix blinks a couple more times and finally he recognizes Vacc, one of the men he trained.

“...civvie?”

Vacc helps Kix sit up, and there’s a slightly jarring sensation when he realizes that he doesn’t recognize the medical bay. It’s…whiter and starker and has a lot less magical healing equipment than he’s used to. “Over there.” He motions to runi clad in some kind of medical attire, “She hasn’t said a word since she woke up.”

She’s curled up on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chin and her hands tangled in her hair. She lifts her gaze to meet his, and as soon as their gaze meets, her gaze darts to the portside window.

Kix follows her gaze, and his breath catches in his throat.

The Resolute was a sea-faring vessel. 

But, for whatever reason, the Resolute seems to be in space. 

No wonder she’s so freaked out. “Where…” Kix pauses to clear his throat, “Where are we going?”

“Coruscant.” Vacc claps his shoulder, “Get some rest, vod. We’ll be back at the barracks before we know it.”

And then his brother is gone, and Kix pins runi with a stare, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” She sounds miserable, “The explosion must have mixed with the magic of the teleportation…I don’t know, Kix.” She winces and clamps her hands over her ears.

“Okay, okay. Runi, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

“How can you stand it?”

“Stand what?”

“The screaming.”

“What screaming, there’s no screaming-” She wraps her hands around his wrists as soon as he’s close enough, and then he hears it, high pitched and constant, as though someone, somewhere, is screaming in unending pain.

When she releases him the screaming stops, but she just tightens her hands over her ears.

“It…it’s going to be okay, runi. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

Kix casts his gaze back to the window, just as a slightly mechanical voice echoes through the ship, “Preparing to jump into hyperspace in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…”And the galaxy outside the window fades into streaks of white and blue as Kix folds his hands around runi’s hands, trying to help her block out the screaming.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #magic and knights au #clone medic kix x reader #kix x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

[mrwavellswaps]

Mr. Wavell, If someone where to try and get your help steal the body of their boyfriends hunky father, would you be able to help?

Is this even really a question? Of course I would help!! There’s nothing I would love more than to help someone steal a hunky dilf body. Especially if that dilf happened to be their boyfriends dad 😈 Oh but how would I do it I wonder?…

Of course there loads of different and o ways I could help make it happen. Giving them the power to ghost possess people. Have them put on the dad’s clothes to cause a transformation into him. Give them something that’ll transform the dad into a bodysuit that’ll permanently seal after being put on. However I think I’d wanna keep it simple this time. I’d just give them a once in a life time body swapping power. All they have to do is look at the person they want to swap with and think really hard about becoming them. The magic would do the rest!

Simple as I said but sometimes that can be the best way to do it. Imagine the dad standing there confused as his sons boyfriend glares at him lustfully only for his soul to be forcefully pulled from his body moments later. Both their souls swirling around before diving into the opposite body. The dad quickly going from being even more confused and shocked than ever to being full on terrified as he looks across the room to see his old dilf body grinning at him maliciously. Soon realising as he looks down at himself that his sons boyfriend somehow just stole his body!?

After that the dad would be forced to watch as the body snatcher begins touching and groping at his new hot hunky dad body. Naturally the dad would beg for him to swap back, promising he won’t tell anybody but his former self would only continue to smile as he tells him it’s permanent. Now the dad con do nothing but sit back and watch as another man parades around in his body, constantly going on about how hot he is. Meanwhile he’s stuck in his sons boyfriends body. Sure it might be younger but, it was nowhere near as good as his old body. What was his son going to think about all this?…

Meanwhile I’d probably have been watching this all unfold. Whether it be from the comfort of my mansion, watching it on the TV that runs on the same magic as a crystal ball alongside my boyfriend Dane. Or I’d be there watching in person, only invisible as to not disturb the incredibly hot scene unfolding before me. Definitely don’t wanna miss the part where they whip out that fat new dad cock for the first time that’s at least twice the size of their old one…

#asks #magic #permanent #male body theft #male body swap #identity theft #hairy #mr wavell #dad #age progression #muscle theft #straight to gay

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

matilda - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys i have back pain and i have daddy issues so i wanted to write a quick blurb about it. so. sorry if you guys cant particularly relate to this one it's for me <3 warnings: ANGST, reader cries a lot, probably cursing, lots of daddy issues, lots of being upset, mentions of fathers being drunk, matt picks up the reader but matt in my brain can lift like 250+ so, uhhhh i don't know guys just angst and daddy issues ! word count: 1.2k summary: you have daddy issues and back pain. matt does his best to help. pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader now playing: matilda - harry styles "i don't believe that time will change your mind/in other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore/as long as you can let them go"

Matt finds you on the floor of the kitchen, your knees hugged against your chest. He is so tired, bruises starting to really hurt after sitting all purple and blue on his ribs and his arms. He’s just in his boxers his hair damp from a shower.

You are just in a pair of boxers and a muscle tee. Your knuckles are white, and you are staring into space in the most literal definition. It’s four a.m. You are a twenty something year old adult, you have not slept in your mother’s bed in years.

And yet, you feel like a child.

And your back is fucking killing you.

Matt sits next to you on the kitchen floor, goosebumps shooting up his skin as his feet and palms feel the cold, rough tile floor. His hand finds your arm and gently rubs his thumb against your skin.

“What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?” His voice is low and thick with sleep. He is so tired, that his words aren’t nearly as poetic, sappy or flirtatious as he wants them to be (maybe not all at once, but he most certainly wished they were better than that).

You consider lying to him for a moment. Really, you do. You could tell him that the floor is just more comfortable, that you want him to fuck you right here against the tiles, that you just could not sleep, that there is nothing deeper than a busy brain that cannot calm down.

“My dad called me while you were away.” You tell him, your voice soft. Matt will be able to hear it no matter how loudly or quietly you say it. And at your confession, he tenses. He has a complicated relationship with your father, but his relationship is calm compared to the raging waters that make up how you feel about the man.

“Okay,” he starts, rubbing your arm gently. “And what did he say?”

You blink.

“Nothing. Nothing that should have made me feel like this.” You tell him, a horrible taste in your mouth. From what, you do not know. Matt doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to tell him more. “He was drunk.” You say quietly.

“Oh.” He knows you don’t drink. He knows you have a very complicated relationship with substances. “I can understand why that might be upsetting..” he tries, and you shake your head, your face twisting into frustration, anger, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

“He’ll never change.” You whisper, too afraid to be any louder, too afraid that maybe from miles and miles away, your father will hear you. That maybe if you say it any louder, it won’t be a secret anymore, and that you’ll start crying if you say it any louder. “He’ll never ever change.” You say, and your head turns to look at him.

And you stare at the man that you love, and you stare and stare, and you think about Jack Murdock who loved his son so much that he was willing to die for him to have a better life, that he was entirely selfless when it came to the person you are lucky enough to call yours.

And you think about how your father wants nothing to do with you. He never did. Not really.

That’s when you start to cry.

It starts with a few tears rolling down your cheeks, salty and fat, as if they hold all of the memories your brain has locked away to protect you. Then, the tears come out faster, and faster, until you are choking on your own breath, racking with sobs. Matt’s arms are around you in an instant.

He pulls you close to him, and you feel bad for getting tears all over his skin. He’ll tell you it’s his fault for wearing just briefs. He pulls you into his lap, and while you cry into his neck, his hand comes down to your back and slips under your shirt, gently rubbing it up and down.

You twitch at the feeling, your back still aching as you sit with him, the pain contributing to your tears. Matt’s lips kiss your forehead, and he just holds you for a long time. Your breathing becomes short with how violently you’re sobbing.

“Hey, easy..” he says softly before he tilts your head up to look at him. “Your breathing isn’t healthy. Come on, watch me,” and he takes deep breathes in and out, expecting you to copy his attempts. When you’re finally at a point where you an breath on your own, Matt begins wiping your tears gently.

“Sorry…” You say quietly. He just shushes you softly and leans in to kiss your cheek.

“You never have to apologize for your emotions.” He promises, “I love you so much. I am so sorry he’s like that,” and now Matt is crying and he’s not sure why, but you feel awful about it, so your shaky hands come up to wipe his tears and he wants to laugh at your attempt at gentleness because he wonders how often you were shown the same kindness and his heart aches at the most realistic answer.

“Honey, you never have to worry about him again. You made it out, he can’t hurt you anymore..” He tells you, and you try to believe him. “You’ll never feel anything except safe and loved, I promise.” He says quietly, before leaning in to kiss you gently. “Is there anything else?” He senses that you are in physical pain too. Partially because he can tell by how your jaw clenches that you are tense, but even without his super senses, he just knows you aren’t feeling well.

He knows you too well.

“My back is killing me.” You confess, and he frowns. “And my head now.” Your head always hurts after crying.

“Okay,” He nods, “Hold tight,” and somehow, your fucking angel of a man picks you up off the floor and carries you to bed. He steps away only to grab you a glass of water and some Advil. You take it quietly, chugging the water before he sits on the bed next to you.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper, still upset, but so so grateful. He just smiles sadly and leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he pulls away to ask,

“How about I give you a quick back massage and then we get to bed? You must be tired. I know I am.” You sigh and nod, shifting so you’re laying on your stomach.

Matt leans down and kisses your shoulder before whispering, “I meant it you know. You made it out. You’re safe. You’re loved.”

And even without being a human lie detector like him, you can tell he’s telling the truth. It makes you cry more, but Matt stays to wipe the tears away. He’ll always stay. And he’ll always tell you as much when you need the reminder.

You’re safe.

You’re loved.

These words echo in your brain as you drift off to sleep, Matt holding you close, fingers tracing patterns into your skin as you fall into a dreamless sleep, focusing on the warmth that radiates off him.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil #daredevil fic #matt murdock #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #daddy issues #angst #back pain #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x sad reader #daredevil angst #daredevil blurb #matt murdock blurb #matt murdock blurbs

[brokenpieces-72]

Painting Faces

Navigation

Graves has no choice but to be present on the day Makarov addresses the force, but he keeps to himself while blending in. Makarov doesn’t bother himself with Graves expecting him to stay in line. At least at first.

Then he notices your empty desk. Graves had cleared it of your personal affects, including photos and personal documents.

“We’re missing an officer?” He wonders aloud while Graves files through some reports.

“Officers Graves, you’re missing a partner?” He asks.

“I am perfectly happy being single.” He replies with a good hearted smirk. “The desk is open, we had an officer resign.”

“I see. Very well.” Makarov walks away before Graves can try to make another smart comment. Graves sits up straighter in his chair though.

“That… that is impressive.” Gaz comments as he enters the warehouse seeing the mural you were working on for Los Vaqueros. You look down at him from where you were perched on a railing of a sort of cat walk.

“Thought a cowboy motif would be fitting. Alejandro told me there were good men and women who died here during a raid. Wanted to honour them.” You exclaim. You roll your shoulders and arms hearing a few cracks. By now your bruises were yellow, nearly healed. Your pants are covered in paint, and you old hoodie was warm enough to keep your from freezing in the dropping temperatures. That and Gaz’s very kind delivery of tea. He climbs up to you on the cat walk, and hands you the thermos. Just holding it warms your fingers in your fingerless gloves. He leans against the railing with you admiring your work.

“Figured a mural was the least I owed them. Can’t imagine Soap and Alejandro don’t have some tension going on.” You say, gingerly sipping your tea. Yep you still burned your tongue.

“Speaking of them… Alejandro and Rudolfo have been recovering from a failed raid.” Gaz says. So it begins.

“Makarov.” You say. Gaz nods, shoving a hand in his pocket sipping his own drink. Things were going to be flipped on their head and spun like a top. It would take some time getting used to. Thankfully the 141 was making the transition for you as easy as possible. The nights your father spent with them you were always a part of the conversation. One night there was a promise made to help take care of you if your father couldn’t.

“Ran into Alex at the shop, apparently he found a smaller piece of yours, with I think he said a pillow fight.” Gaz mentions trying to change the subject. You smirked at that knowing the piece he meant. You side eye Gaz who returns it, and you toast your cups. You take a sip and think for a moment.

“Has Soap said anything?” You ask Kyle. The two of you hadn’t really talked since the night you needed safety. Even then it had been brief and awkward.

“It’s how he is.” Gaz says. He’s taken notice of how you two have interacted and Soap talking about you less than he had. “It’s not that he hates you, I think he needs to talk to you. Simple as that.”

“So this is where you’ve been.” A voice came from below and behind them. They both turn to see a face they weren’t expecting.

“Rudolfo. Come on up mate.” Gaz says, offering the bruised man, a hand up. Rudolfo eases himself up through the railings and looks up at your work in progress. He gives a friendly smirk.

“Alejandro will like this for sure.” He says.

“Least I could do after everything. How is he?” You ask, looking up at Rudolfo.

“Nothing can kill Alejandro, except Alejandro.” Rudolfo says. “Unfortunately, nothing can get him to rest either. He’s worried about more drug shipments getting past us when we can be stopping them and destroying them.”

“Sounds like Alejandro.” Gaz says taking another sip of his drink. You stare at your work while taking a sip and think for a bit. The three of you all stand there in silence for a bit. You keep asking yourself, how would dad do it? He could break cases open, getting gangsters like Soap and Gaz to bring the hammers he needed for it. Now Makarov was in the picture too. Which meant needing to hide the hammers right after and hope he would bring glue to repair it.

“Could tell him.” You suggest looking at Gaz. It takes him a minute to realize who you’re referring to. Graves was an insider now. Graves also had to be removed from the case after Makarov returned. Gaz considers it and Rudolfo listens. They were informed about Graves and his involvement as well. It was risky, but if you couldn’t be your father, maybe Graves could step up in a way.

Kyle looks at Rudy. “You know when the next shipments are coming in?”

“We have guesses. So far they’ve been using fishing boats, so they don’t have to claim cargo.”

“They’d need a warrant to start searching.” Kyle adds.

“What if they got one?” You ask. “I mean… who’s to say it’s only one fishing company.”

“We don’t hit innocent.” Kyle points out. “But…you may be on to something.”

“If proof of illegal activity was brought forward to the company itself, investigations would have to start. If Graves is at the forefront…” Rudolfo trailed off.

“Where do we start?” You ask, trying to keep the smug look off your face. You may get to see them in full action.

“We first get Alejandro’s permission. Then we get more information from Laswell. After that we prep for the raid.” Kyle explains.

“I can arrange that. Will have to bring him to see this.” Rudolfo says, gesturing to the mural.

“Wait until it’s done.” You say smiling. “Thinking of adding something a little extra.”

You head back with Gaz to the hideout. He’s teasing you for all the paint you got on yourself.

“At least it’s not on the scarf.” You say stepping inside.

“At least it’s not still wet, you’d have to take your clothes off outside so you don’t track paint.” Kyle teases as you take off your boots. You notice Soap leaning on the fire escape outside. Kyle just gives you a nudge and no words. You take your boots off and carry them to the back door leading out to Soap. You put them back on to join him.

“May I join you?” You ask. He looks back and nods. You step outside and sits on the steps, rubbing yours hands together, trying to warm them.

It’s silent between you two again. There’s just the faint sound of wind and the usual traffic down below.

“Saw Rudolfo today.” You say, squirming on the step.

“How is he?” He asks looking over to you.

“He’s doing better. Still a little rough. Alejandro is getting restless about the shipments though.”

“You don need to worry bout that.” Soap says, facing back to the streets.

“I am worried about it, because it’s what I should be worried about.” You say.

“You don. You’re not a cop anymore.” Soap exclaims. It doesn’t sting as much as it once had.

“…cop or not this is my home now.”

“You have a hom-“ Soap starts but you interrupt him.

“No I don’t. This is my home now.” You say looking up, with him looking at you now. “This city is my home. It was my dad’s home too. If the cops aren’t gonna fight for it, then who else will? I’m not sitting on my ass waiting for an opportunity anymore. You gave me one, I’m not letting it go again.”

Soap looks at you for a while. “What opportunity?”

“When you let me tag on your turf.” You say.

Soap thinks for a minute, and then scoffs. “Stubborn as your old man.” He says.

“Nothing like my old man.” You respond.

“Not at all.” Soap says sarcastically. You smile.

“I really am sorry for lying. Throughout that whole time I was debating whether to even report anything or tell you what I was doing.” You say, rubbing your neck.

“Why didn ya?” He asks, turning and leaning back against the railing. You shrug.

“Felt more at home here.” You admit

“At home? What home?” He asks.

“With you and everyone you introduced me too. Barely known Ghost that long and I feel safer around him than by myself.” You say. Soap smirks at that. Safer around Ghost of all people? That’s a new one.

“I knew you might’ve been a cop. Just hoped ya weren’t.” Soap admits. “Let’s get inside. Gonna snow soon I bet.”

You both go back inside, feeling more relaxed around each other than before. Price steps in the front door just as you two step in from the back. He’d been popping in and out the past week or so never staying for long. This time he was grumbling something.

“Ye aight Price?” Johnny asks.

“My own deliveries are backed up for the bar.” He exclaims. “Graves came by as well to tell me, in person.”

You wonder if Graves did it to maintain cover or to ask Price how you were. You don’t voice it.

“Nikolai can handle it but it’s clear they’re trying to make money difficult. Farah came by, saying a few real estate companies were scoping her neighbourhood. A couple kids threw water balloons at them.”

“I like those kids.” You comment, imagining soaked suits and irritated scowls.

“Alex is on damage control there.” Price says, finally setting his jacket aside. He stepped into the kitchen, stretching and taking a beer from the fridge while you and Johnny join him. You sit up on the bar stool again.

“Makarov is stretching out. He wants more than just us, he wants everyone.” Price states. Johnny leans against the counter arms crossed, Kyle joining at the bar.

“Why now?” Johnny asks. “Could’ve struck b’fore.”

The question is weighty and is left in the air for some time. If your dad was keeping Makarov under control why did he leave?

“Because of me?” You suggest. Johnny, Kyle and Price both look at you. They consider it, but there’s not much to support your answer. “Maybe… he can manipulate the police easier because Graves knows me, and wants me safe. If Graves acts out, Makarov can put me in the crossfire but now I’m not so he thinks it’s easier for him to fuck with the system…maybe?” You try to reason.

“Not entirely out of question.” Kyle mutters.

“Something to consider.” Price says. “We can’t just go at it expecting to find something we don’t know is even there. For now we support where we’re needed, and test waters. Makarov having the police on his side is a problem, but the question is how hard he uses them.”

“Speaking of, we got a tip from Rudolfo. Alejandro may want our help on a drug raid.” Kyle adds. “We need to figure out where the shipments are coming from though. Maybe try to convince Graves to get a warrant.”

Both Johnny and Price went quiet at the mention of Graves again.

“I hate to play devil’s advocate and I know you don’t like it, but Phil is the only one we have directly on the force. We can lead him to where the problems are and book it when he gets close.” You say.

“They’re not wrong.” Kyle agrees.

“Something we will consider.” Price offers. “Right now, we need to focus on finding the exact shipments, and then deciding what to do. It’s Alejandro’s operation, we go through him first.”

Ghost came in and everyone turned to look at him. In his arms is a bundled up hoodie while he shivers in a long sleeved shirt on. You get up quickly, hurrying to take the bundle from him. By now you’d seen Simon with enough animals to know he puts great value in them. Sometimes over himself, hence the hoodie not on his back.

When you take the hoodie you bite your tongue trying not to awe at the tiny, furry, adorable, cute, wittle bundles of claws and teeth in your arms. You stare at them and look up with your eyes at Simon, who is brushing the remains of snow off himself.

“Take em to your room, get a blanket.” He orders. No one else matters but these kittens, which you take to your bedroom without a word.

While you are getting a blanket and a small shoe box for them to stay in, Ghost gets a different hoodie to help him warm up. The mangy black cat, hops on to his shoulder while everyone else just watches.

“Congratulations?” Johnny asks Simon as you come back into the kitchen.

“Keep them from their shitty father.” Simon grumbles. As he leans against the counter the cat hops off his shoulder and on to the counter. “It’ll give the kid something to do when we’re out.”

“I thought I was coming with you guys.” You pipe up.

“We will think about it.” Price says, sounding a bit like a dad.

“I’m not a child.” You grumble.

“If you do come on the raid it won’t be like arresting someone, it’s shoot to kill and keep your eyes open the whole time. No one is walking with side arms, they have uzis and AKs. Some fire wild too.” Kyle reminds you.

“I’ve done a raid before.” You try convincing them.

“You’re stayin.” Johnny says with finality. It’s not out of anger or irritation. It’s meant as words of warning, that this was bigger than what you’d encountered and he didn’t want you in the line of fire. Literally. You drop your head with some swallowed disappointment. You want to help. But you don’t want them worrying about you.

“One condition?” You ask. Johnny shifts his posture to listen.

“Okay two conditions… first one is all four of you have to come back after that raid regardless of what happens, preferably with Alejandro and Rudolfo too.” You stare each one down. Not very intimidating but they’re lenient.

“What’s the second condition?” Ghost asks, their silence an agreement to your first condition. You look directly at Simon.

“I get to name at least one of them.”

Alex steps into his small home, hanging his keys on the hook. As he shuts the door, the kitchen light turns on down the hallway. Very carefully, Alex turns the lock on his door, pulling out his side arm. He stalks toward the kitchen until he hears a familiar voice.

“I needed bandages…”

Alex sighs and holsters his gun before going to a hall closet and getting a small first aid kit.

“If it’s worse than I think, I’ll drag you to hospital.” Alex warns and enters the kitchen, seeing Farah with a few scratches. She’d come to him with worse. Her clothes are still damp too. Alex has to hold a laugh picturing Farah throwing a water balloon at a bunch of realtors.

“You want anything to drink?” He offers setting the kit down. “Was gonna make myself some food and then sleep. Now I have company.”

Farah opens the kit and gets the cotton and alcohol.

“Happy to provide.” Farah says as she starts cleaning. Alex starts making a sandwich for Farah as well. Farah was a good person, defending her home and neighbourhood. Alex was still on the force but with the new chief commissioner he was tempted to resign. Take some security job to pay off bills. Graves had been asking him to stay on though. With the sketchy land deals going on by Milena Romanova, he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Alex sets a plate down in front of Farah and he sits by with a plate of his own.

“You didn’t have t-“

“I wanted to, now eat.” He says pushing the kit aside. Alex and Farah had an odd relationship. Farah would often drop in like this. Alex had made it a habit to do the same on her every so often.

“I need a favour.” Farah admits after a couple bites.

“Only one?” Alex teases. “Go on.”

“There’s an artist I want to hire.” Farah explains. Alex looks at Farah.

“Need a loan?” He asks.

“No. I need you to look the other way. A small peaceful protest to get the realtors to leave us alone.” Farah explains.

“You have an artist in mind?” Alex asks. Farah gives him a smile that gets covered by an another bite of sandwich.

“This is really good.” Farah says through a mouthful.

“Thanks.” Alex says chuckling.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @smitten-haematite-quartz

#john soap mactavish #cod au #task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #gn reader #phillip graves #vladimir makarov #farah karim #alex keller #cod gangster au #gangster au #rudolfo parra #yep it’s a series now #again how is this still going #i love it

[empressofthesunwriter]

Change the Narrative

If people knew the truth, they would call her a selfish monster.

But Katara had sacrificed anything for the world, for an ungrateful husband!

This time she would always choose herself first!

Here is a little one-shot of my anger about what happened to Katara in canon.

I want to give her the end she deserves, so I hope you enjoy it!

Katara knew it was time for her to die.

She felt it in her old bones.

Alone she lay in her bed at the South Pole and watched how the snow was falling.

At least she would die seeing the beauty of her homeland.

It was a good death.

The old woman blinked tears away and tried to be positive about her nearing death.

She would see Sokka, her father, her mother and Gran-Gran again.

It was good.

She had lived a long happy life.

Something burning and unsettling spread through her chest as she thought this.

Was it a happy life?

How often did she and Aang argue over simple things?

How often did she beg him not to play favourites with Tenzin? Yes, their youngest was an airbender, but what about Bumi and Kya? They were his children too.

But no!

The Air Nomad legacy was more important than their two oldest children and their pain.

Once upon a time when she was a young girl and fantasized about the man and family one day she would have, she never would have guessed how she became the kind of mother, who didn't fight for her children.

Who didn't call out her husband for his wrongdoings?

However, she had so with Aang. Since she had met him, she always had mothered him, shielded him from things which didn't fit his narrative.

He was the Avatar, the only hope to end the war, with a track record of running away.

They couldn't lose him, so she had protected him the best she could.

And she did so to her children.

No wonder Bumi and Kya didn't even visit her and Tenzin didn't have much of a relationship with her.

Where did she go wrong in her life?

When did she become a shadow of herself in the name of love?

Why did she even choose Aang?

Was it because of Aunt Wu's prediction, she would marry a powerful bender or because she had a feeling Aang...deserved her?

He loved her and had ended the war.

Was it so bad to give him a chance?

Sadly after sacrificing her best years for him and being rewarded to die alone without her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren around her, it may have been the most stupid decision she ever made.

Spirits, was she a bad person to think that?

She loved her family, really she did, but deep down she had to admit...she wouldn't do it a second time.

Katara wouldn't sacrifice herself, her ideals, and her dreams for Aang's dream.

She had her whole life given and given and was now at the end of it rewarded with nothing.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, as she slowly closed her eyes.

Soon she would join her loved ones...

Just...

If she could...

If the spirits were so kind...

If dear Yue heard her...

She wanted a second chance.

She wanted to live a life for herself and herself alone.

Katara had given in this life all and more...was it so bad that she wished for a second chance to get it this time right?

Was she selfish?

Maybe.

Surely.

But anyone had a point in their life where they had to put themselves first.

Her only regret was that she did not realise it sooner.

Katara closed her eyes and felt the last beats of her heart.

Never noting how the moon was shining brightly down at her...

***

She felt pain in her head.

Katara hissed and touched her forehead.

Why did she get a headache?

Where was she?

She blinked to banish the shadows before her eyes.

Slowly she could see.

Ah yes.

She was outside General Iroh's tea shop in Ba Sing Se.

The waterbender had seen Aang walk out and wanted to join him.

It was high time that she gave Aang her answer about them being a couple.

She had been unsure a few days ago, but now with the war over...why shouldn't she give him a chance?

He was standing at the balustrade watching the setting sun, it was the perfect moment.

As the waterbender made her first step towards him, an avalanche of emotions and vision filled her whole being.

Katara gasped quietly, trying to make sense of this.

It was too fast and also too slow...however, she felt it in her bones...whatever she had planned kissing Aang and getting together with him...it would be the worst decision of her life!

No, she didn't want what she had seen.

How could she sell herself, her principals, and her honour for a guy?!

How could she be together with someone who would play favourites with their children?!

No, absolutely not!

Whether this was a vision from the future to save her from this faith Katara didn't know, but what she knew she wouldn't make the same mistakes twice!

So angry she walked up to Aang and tapped his shoulder.

The Avatar turned smiling towards her. He seemed so happy and hopeful and looked at her like she had hung the stars and the moon.

For a second she flatter, which only made the vision come forth again and made her anger tenfold.

Oh no!

Not with her!

"Aang.", she began. "I don't love you and I never will! Stop pestering me about us being a couple! If you don't accept my feelings I will waterwhip you do your next incarnation, do you understand me?!"

To say he was shocked was the understatement of the century. She could formally see the heartbreak in his eyes and how he tried to speak up, maybe to guilt trip her, however, she wasn't having anything of it.

"Nothing you will say and do will ever change my mind! So don't even try. I will go back with Sokka to the South Pole and rebuild my home. That's where I belong!"

Dramatically she turned around and entered the tea shop again.

The others tried their hardest to seem like they hadn't listened in, yet Katara saw through them.

She sends them all an annoyed look.

"What?!"

No one said anything for a few seconds before Toph snickered: "Oh sugar queen, I hoped you had it in you."

This makes Katara smile.

***

The next months of her life Katara rebuilt with her father and Sokka their home. 

The Nothern Watertribe had tried to turn the South into a second North, except Katara was having none of it.

As a war hero, master waterbender and daughter of the chief she used all her power to stop this chances.

She was a force of nature!

No one had a chance against her.

Her family was so proud of her and she was satisfied with herself.

Yes, this was where she belonged.

Helping people and not being the soulless, passionless arm candy of Aang!

Katara was happy.

A voice inside her told her how she deserved it.

***

A year later found Katara as ambassador for her people at the first peace summit.

She was happy seeing Zuko again, they had written to each other, yet seeing each other in person was much better.

He had become her best friend.

And her wall against Aang.

As Avatar he was at the peace summit too. Of course, he tried to talk with her. Tried to sway her, saying he missed her and wanted to be friends again.

She saw right through him. Aang still wanted her.

Thank the spirits for Zuko having her back and distracting Aang.

When they enjoyed together a cup of tea in General Iroh's tea shop she thanked him for his help.

Awkwardly he waved it away.

It was nothing.

He and Mai had broken up and the black-haired girl wasn't happy about it.

Even if she and Aang weren't exes, Zuko knew how frustrating it was to have a person follow you like a shadow and demand to be together again.

In comfort, she petted Zuko's hand and told him he did the right thing to end things with Mai.

If she couldn't accept a no was she a good girlfriend?

A little crooked smile formed on Zuko's lips, and her heart stopped for a second, as he thanked her for her words and friendships.

Then he asked her to join him in the search for his mother.

***

Being with Zuko on a life-changing field trip again was... exciting.

They still worked flawlessly together, like when they had hunted down the murder of her mother, but now they were friends.

It changed a lot of interactions.

They were playful with each other.

Zuko was the only one who ever laughed at her jokes.

They were there for each other.

In the long days when they hunted down one clue after another and Zuko seemed to lose hope, Katara reminded him to never give up.

They shared the workload.

It was amazing not mothering someone and having someone help her around camp.

They were getting closer to each other.

They shared things they never told anyone.

Zuko told her how he got his scar and Katara hugged him, wishing Aang had killed Ozai.

Wishing Ozai was before her and making him pay for hurting her best friend!

Sometimes they just stared at the stars, inventing constellations, their hands inching closer.

Something new was born between them.

Katara didn't know what it was, but she would enjoy it.

It made her feel good.

After weeks on the road, they finally found Ursa.

And also a society of hiding airbenders.

Katara couldn't help but laugh in utter glee.

***

Was it really that surprising that Katara and Zuko fell in love with each other after their journey?

When she kissed Zuko for the first time, it was like coming home. 

Warm, welcome, familair, intim.

It was the best sensation in the world.

Something inside her told her this was how it was supposed to be.

After two years of dating and being the ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe in the Fire Nation, they married.

All their friends and half of the world were invited.

Yes, even Aang.

Aang was so grateful to Katara and Zuko for having found his people and was busy with the air nomads to rebuild their society, and seemed to finally let go of Katara.

Now they really could be friends.

***

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, master bender, war hero and Fire Lady became a living legend.

Not only the people in the Fire Nation adored her, but she used the power she wielded to make the whole world a better place.

She was the one who came up with the idea of Republic City, a place where all nations could live in harmony.

She revolutionized the art of healing with her bloodbending.

She installed fountains and aqueducts everywhere she could, so people had clean water.

Statues were built and universities, streets even neighbourhoods were named in her honour.

Katara taught new generations of waterbenders like her daughter Kya and people formally fought over to learn from the Fire Lady.

When their oldest daughter Izumi became Fire Lady, Katara and Zuko retired to Ember Island to live out their twilight years in peace.

They often had visits from their friends and families.

Their son Lu Ten, a nonbender, had married a waterbender named Mizuki and had with her five children.

So the proud grandparents helped their son and daughter-in-law raise the rascals.

It was fulfilling.

As Aang then died and was reborn as Korra from the Southern Water Tribe Katara and Zuko moved to the South to teach the new Avatar.

Korra loved Katara and Zuko like grandparents and loved hearing about their adventures.

After Korra goes to Republic City to learn airbending from one of Aang's sons he had with one of the hiding airbenders, the pair returns to Ember Island.

Zuko died a few months before her.

Katara followed him after the birth of their third great-grandchild.

Both died surrounded by their big and bustling family.

As Katara died, her oldest great-granddaughter, who was named after her held her hand, she couldn't help but feel happy.

She had lived a long and wonderful life.

Soon she would be together again with her beloved husband and her family.

And so the greatest and most beloved Fire Lady died in peace with no regrets in her heart, her story being told for thousands of years to come.

***

The Legend of Katara became a tale which young girls loved.

From a simple waterbender to a master, war hero and ruler over a nation, who changed the world only a few ever could.

It showed all girls, that they could do anything they wanted.

They could reach their goals and go even beyond.

This was Katara's legacy.

As it should have been.

If you liked this one-shot and want more Zutara, a badass OC, personal growth for Aang and the Gaang being amazing check out Yin and Yang! 

Click on my profile and leave a comment.

I hope you liked this little One-Shot!

Let’s now scream together in the comment section how Katara deserved better and if it’s not canon we will give it to her in fanon! :D

#katara #atla katara #avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko #atla zuko #prince zuko #atla zutara #zutara #zutarian #katara deserved better #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #zutara fanfiction #zutara fic #zutara forever #anti bryke #anti kataang #anti maiko #bryke critical

[kitchenisking]

Day 4

Seires Fic Rec part 14

Queer Your Coffee by alisvolatpropiis - (Queer Your Coffee) - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 3,084, sterek)

Derek's just over the city line when he sees a sign for an independent drive-thru place, Full Spectrum Brew. There are three cars in line when he turns in, which annoys him but gives him hope. Not that he really trusts the people of Beacon Hills to have much taste when it comes to coffee (god, he is a snob), but the shop’s popularity does seem to bode well. The line of cars moves way more slowly than he’d like, each customer in front of him seeming to take way too long to order, and then lingering when they get their coffee. He’s irritable from lack of sleep and an even more detrimental lack of caffeine, anxious to get out of the car. Finally it’s his turn and he slowly rolls up to the window, turning the radio down.

For a second, he thinks he must have fallen asleep while he was waiting, because what he sees when he looks in the window surely must be a dream.

Stunning brown eyes like glowing honey and sweet little nose, slightly upturned; a shapely pink mouth, bottom-lip pierced by a thin black hoop that he's worrying with the tip of his tongue as he smiles a gorgeous hello.

He's the most beautiful man Derek's ever seen.

And he’s shirtless.

It's a Beautiful Night by khasael - (Hale and Hearty) - (Rating: T, Words: 2,887, sterek)

Just because they're all almost used to fighting against the Creature of the Week and assorted other Bad Guys, doesn't mean it doesn't get Stiles's heart rate going.

Dream a Little Dream by Yoiko - (A Little Dream of Me ) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,101, sterek)

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. And since this is my dream you’re going to let me do it.”

All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man. by devilscut - (There are nights when the wolves are silent and the moon howls.) - (Rating: Mature, Words: 11,687, sterek)

A shell-shocked Stiles regroups with the pack to find his father who has been kidnapped by the Darach. Their search leads them to the Nematon, where their confrontation with the Darach reveals her plans and that there is more to being a True Alpha than they know. Derek and his family's legacy is at the heart of her schemes and when the Darach has him under her control Stiles begins to realise the extent of how much he really cares for the sourwolf. In true Scooby-doo fashion, the villain has told them of her plans but more shockingly to Stiles she also reveals a very important aspect of his and Derek's relationship.

The virtue of patience by nofeartina - (Patience) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,827, sterek)

Stiles isn't afraid of admitting his feelings to Derek, but that doesn't mean that Derek wants to hear it. 

Or the one where Stiles knows that all good things come to those who wait.

I Feel Like You Can't Feel the Way I Feel by i_might_be_in_over_my_head - ( Einherjar MC ) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 14,087, sterek)

“Fuckin A, dude! The last time you gave me that look I ended up in the woods in the middle of the night, lost my inhaler, and almost died. Please tell me why you’re always trying to get me killed?” Scott shook his head resigned. He knew Stiles was going in and nothing he could say would change that. “If we wake up dead tomorrow just remember this was your idea.”

Stiles threw his fist in the air enthusiastically, almost punching Scott in the face, and turned to the door. He knew if he didn’t go quick Scott would probably change his mind and he’d have to start all over. “Dude that was sophomore year of high school, let it go! Plus dead body! We had to go. We’ll just have a drink and check it out. It’ll be fun!”

fingertips have memories by thatworldinverted - (let's talk about sex ) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,800, sterek)

Pochemuchka (Russian), noun: a person who asks a lot of questions. 

"I saw the way you watched me, when I was home last month. How long have you been dreaming about getting me on my knees?"

seems to me it's chemistry by HalfFizzbin - (covalent bonds) - (Rating: T, Words: 4,153, sterek)

Awkward Nerd Derek has been crushing on Handsome Jock Stiles since forever—so getting paired with him on a Chemistry project is definitely the best/worst thing that's ever happened to him.

These next two fics go hand in hand. 😇

The One with All the Kids by Itsreallyjustforresearch83 - (Rating: G, Words: 6,527, sterek)

Derek didn't know what he did to deserve to have this again. A house full of people, of family. He's going to be forever grateful to that rouge witch for what she did for him and Stiles, because after all the hurt they went through together, many years later, they're standing in the Pack house, in their house, surrounded by their family.

A New Hale by Itsreallyjustforresearch83 - (Rating: G, Words: 4,543, sterek)

The Pack meets the werewolf cub that Stiles and Derek gets placed with them on Christmas.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs #seriesficrec