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empress-simps · 2 months

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Foolish Heart

Pairing: James Potter x Fem! Reader CW: James being oblivious to reader’s feelings, Sirius teasing, and as always- language. (1.7k words) Summary: You’ve had the biggest crush on James ever since you can remember, so imagine how hard it is to see your best friend since diapers pine over Lily Evans. The other Marauders decided to make James realize who he truly likes all along.

Note: I was listening to Hozier’s (my love) “Almost (Sweet Music)” When I suddenly thought of this idea randomly, soooooo yeah, enjoy! My updates might be slower now since I have school, but my requests/asks are still open if anyone wants to talk to me! I'd still be active on Tumblr : )

Be still, my foolish heart. Don’t ruin this on me.

It was your mantra, every time you saw James. Everything he did was perfect in your eyes; the way he hummed, eyes twinkling as he thought of a plan on how to execute their pranks, down to the way he laughed. It was heavenly, dancing around the air, lingering- as if a beautiful melody waiting to be heard by you.

And yet, you were a silent audience, watching from a far distance as he basks in the glow of Lily Evans.

Lily. The name itself was a symphony, a haunting refrain that echoed in the back of your mind. She was everything you weren’t, couldn’t be—confident, radiant, and effortlessly captivating. Her hair, a cascade of fiery red, framed her face like a halo. And James? Well, he was her devoted troubadour, strumming his heartstrings to the rhythm of her laughter.

He was hypnotized by Lily’s glow; and you were fixed on his warmth. His laughter was like sunlight filtering through leaves, warming the coldest corners of your aching and bitter heart. You wondered if he knew the ache of unrequited love—the way it makes you feel like you’re drowning in heartache, making you gasp for air.

You’d known James since you were in nappies, a strong bond forming from cheeky smiles, little adventures, empty promises, bruised knees, and grass-stained bottoms. Childhood friends; both of you are inseparable. But, unknowingly to the bespectacled boy, you slowly saw him in a different light, making you crave more about what your current relationship with him is.

James was the sun, and you were the moon—forever caught in his orbit, but never close enough to touch.

You watched as he stumbled over his words, trying to impress Lily with Quidditch tales and his pranks. And you? You were the silent observer, scribbling poems in the margins of your potions textbook.

As you settled in your usual seat next to James in the great hall, Sirius grinned, a mischievous glint evident in his eyes. “Sit beside me, pretty girl!” He pulled you next to him, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he grabbed an apple and handed it to you. “Good morning to you too, Paddie.” You rolled your eyes playfully, obliging and sitting next to the long-haired boy and grabbing your favorite fruit from his grasp.

Remus, the ever observant one out of the group knowingly looks at Sirius as if to say, ‘I know what you’re doing’. Peter only mumbled a ‘good morning’ before going back to shoving his breakfast in his mouth, blissfully unaware of the brewing tension.

James frowned; he didn’t like the change. Not. One. Bit.

This was new- you not sitting beside him? Can someone pinch him right now since the sod thinks he might be dreaming.

James kept his mouth shut, although he couldn’t help but glance every now and then at you and Sirius chatting across the table, sporting a frown as he stabbed the eggs with a rather excessive force before showing the food on his mouth. Of course, his actions didn’t go unnoticed in the eyes of Sirius Black.

“Something wrong, Prongs?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the grin on his face as he leaned in. Never once did James think he would like to see Sirius’ smirk wiped off his face.

“Y/n sits beside me.” His jaw clenched.

You tried your best to act nonchalantly, fighting off the blush forming in your cheeks as you felt the all too familiar butterflies in your stomach.

Ah, the heartache in those words—the unspoken longing. Remus had seen it before, masked behind his bravado. James Potter, the mischief-maker, the Quidditch star, the one who chased after Lily Evans with unwavering determination. But the werewolf knew better. He saw the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching. The way his laughter softened when you were near. The way he defended you even when you didn’t need defending.

“So? Make Red sit beside you or something.” Sirius raised a brow. You looked at Sirius with a confused look on your face, just what was up with him today?

Red. Lily Evans. The one who James practically confesses his undying love for every week. You know damn well you were not Red, and that you will never be Red.

You were Y/n- the one who held his hand when he was scared of the dark, who followed him on little adventures throughout Potter Manor when you were kids, and the one who exchanged secrets with him with hushed whispers under the moonlit skies.

But being the sod he is, he did. He had hurt you again without even knowing as he invited Lily next to him.

It went on for several weeks, each passing day hurt more than the last. It seemed like he was slowly becoming out of your reach, but Sirius was there, offering you support, and secretly trying to make James realize that he’d been hopelessly in love with you ever since the beginning of time.

The unspoken tension between you grew thicker. Sirius and the others watched, amused and exasperated. Remus, the wise one, shared knowing glances with you. Peter, ever loyal, tried to be mediator between James’s heart and his head.

Then it finally happened, James couldn’t handle it anymore. He cracked.

You were the fresh air he takes in, the anchor that keeps him still, a constant presence in his life. James Potter knew it would hurt if you weren’t by his side, but Merlin- he didn’t know it would hurt this much. He wants you- he needs you.

One stormy night in the Gryffindor Common room was the time he decided to tell you what’s going on in his mind. It was the perfect timing, really. Only him, you and the other Marauders were present in the room, the other students already headed to the dorms, as it was almost curfew.

James sighed, finally standing, and walking towards your direction, his eyes were vulnerable. “Y/n,” he began, voice trembling as he stumbles over his words. “I’ve been an idiot.”

You hummed in agreement, trying to look busy as you reread the last sentence over and over in the page of your book, “That’s not new, Potter.”

“Lily—she’s not the one I want. It’s always been you.”

It felt like the whole world stopped, the fire that was roaring suddenly stilled, your friends sat silently, frozen in shock. All you can hear is your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

James’ gaze bore into yours, his eyes searching for a response. His hand trembled where it reached for yours, holding it tightly, fearing you'd pull away from his touch.

“James, what? If this is some kind of ploy to play with me-“

“Y/n,” he said, his voice raw, “I’ve loved you since we were kids. I was a bloody fool to deny it every time I see you."

“James,” you whispered, your throat tight, “what about Lily?”

He cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he chuckled lightly "Evans had noticed it even before I did. Said I was a knobhead for not realizing sooner." he said.

James’s gaze softened. “You’re the girl who followed me on little adventures, who defended me during Quidditch matches, who knows my deepest fears and silliest dreams. I was fucking terrified to ruin our friendship just because I saw you more than my best friend.”

Biting your lip, you felt the all-too-familiar tears pricking your eyes. His confession made your insides warm, fuzzy, and light. You never told him how you truly felt- keeping it to yourself as you watched him chase after Lily, being supportive of him even though it kills you inside. You could deal with that; you’d be happy as long as James would be happy. Even if it’s with Lily.

Although, he was here, in front of you. Telling you that he also loves you, that he hadn’t realized it until years after.

“James, you were never just a best friend to me.” You whispered, “I was scared- terrified that you would never see me in the way that I saw you. I didn’t tell you because I would rather love you in the sidelines rather than lose you altogether.”

James’ eyes softened, he leaned closer to you; his forehead touching yours, his breath fanning your lips as he smiled softly. “I wouldn’t let you do that now, you’d be in the center of my life, where you belong.”

He placed his hand gently on your back, pulling you closer to him. “Let’s not waste any more time, yeah? We already did that for most of our years already.” James didn’t wait for you to reply when he leaned down and kissed you, cupping your face gently.

Neither of you heard your friends cheering, the fire crackling, or the rain tapping out your window.

In that moment, it felt as if you and James were the only ones in the world, you were in your own little bubble of happiness. Both of you had foolish hearts, and it had finally found each other after years and years of looking.

#james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james x reader #james potter #james potter x y/n #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders fic #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs

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queenie-avenue · 4 months

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Sent from Below, Fell from Above. [pt.1]

—> an angel meets the demon who killed her all those years ago.

⤻ reader is a female, reader is a bunny-type angel(?), canon-typical cursing, very bad use of 1920s slang, reader takes part in the 'welcome to heaven' song, i even wrote an extra verse, heavily inspired by @jazjelspen 's angel baby fic, death, betrayal, angst, spoilers for all of hazbin hotel season one, alastor went up with vaggie and charlie to heaven in this fic, will be a series

The pearly gates of hell shone brightly as you stood there, waiting to welcome in any winners that may have unfortunately just died. Saint Peter had been out for hours by now and looked like he might just have collapsed from how exhausted he was. Like the angel that you were, you let him go take a break while you manned the podium. After all, you had done so multiple times already in the hundred years you've been in heaven!

Just then, you watched as a portal opened up, seemingly out of nowhere. You put on your best smile and waited to greet them.

"Look at this place, Vaggie, Alastor! It's so clean!" Your smile faltered for a moment. Not because of the familliar name — you had long since gotten rid of your fear regarding that name — but because people who just died wouldn't act that way.

"Yeah, super cool." The girl beside her mumbled as she dragged her feet over towards the stand.

As for the man at the back, all dressed in red, he hummed as he walked towards the glowing gates of heaven.

"Hello there!" You greeted, making sure your halo was glowing as bright as possible. "Welcome to heaven, darlings. Could I get your name, please?" You asked politely, pulling out the book of names Saint Peter had entrusted you with.

You stared at the trio ahead of you. A tall gal dressed in a suit with rosy red cheeks that almost made her look like a doll, another doll by her side that had ashen-grey skin and a giant x over her eye, poor thing she must have lost it when she died. And the man that accompanied the two ladies, standing at the back in a dapper looking suit.

"Charlie... Morningstar." The girl in the red suit said.

You nodded your head. "Charlie Morningstar." You drawled out the name, opening up the book and scanning your eyes through the book as your bunny ears flapped about, wondering where you had heard that name before. You frowned when you could not find Charlie's name anywhere in the roster. "Charlie... Morningstar. I'm really sorry, dearie, but you really aren't on my list. A-are you in the wrong place?" You questioned.

"Um, my dad got me this meeting so maybe you could try Lucifer Morningstar?" She mumbled, but the name was loud enough for you to hear.

"Oh dear lord in heaven!" You gasped.

The three of them looked at you. You noted that the man in the suit and deer antlers gazed at you the most intensely, tilting his head over as he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Darling, I really think all of you shouldn't be here-" you frantically said as you flapped your wings out, flying down towards them. Your skirt flapping in the wind alongside your feathery wings.

"Oh lord, here we go." The girl at her side muttered.

"No, uh, we're here for a meeting."

"[y/n], we can take it from here." A mature voice from above said as you looked up to see Sera and Emily — the Seraphim sisters — descend down to you, along with Saint Peter who was holding a milkshake in his hand.

You nodded your head, understanding your place, before stepping aside. Though, you felt the burning gaze of that man boring holes into your head. You turned towards him, a frown present on your face as you stared at him, confused. Noticing that you had noticed him, he turned away, his sharp-toothed grin faced towards Charlie now. That smile... you had seen that smile before. Even the way he dressed, it screamed that he died during your time period.

You continued staring at him, even as he avoided your gaze.

"Dearly beloved, it is my pleasure to say onto thee," Saint Peter suddenly started singing, and you realised that you had lost track of the conversation. "Welcome to Heaven, oh!" He sang as the pearly gates slammed open. You flew up alongside Saint Peter, your wings flapping as your bunny ears twitched. "Where the virtuous reside, 24/7, oh-oh! People are happy that they died," Well, that was certainly an exaggeration considering you didn't exactly... like the way that you died.

As he sang, you flew through the streets, rallying the rest of the winners to join in song. As you flew back, you landed back onto the floor with Saint Peter just as he finished his verse.

"Welcome to Heaven, where everyone hopes to go! Oh-oh! Where angels always glow! Oh!"

You sang as you ran towards all your winner friends as they danced in the streets for the envoys from Hell. Just as you finished singing, you felt those dark eyes on you once again, and you stopped dancing in the street to stare back at him.

Your head hurt as radio static filled your brain, and you struggled to keep yourself upright. You almost toppled over. You grabbed your head, attempting to get the static out of your brain. "Wha-"

"'Cause every single day in Heaven, is a happy day!" Both Emily and Saint Peter belted out as they flew in the air, causing you to break your gaze from the man and focus on the soaring duo in the air.

"Welcome to Heaven!"

The song ended, and you immediately fell to the ground. You had been dead for so many years, so it had been decades since you felt breathless, of all things.

"My, what is a dame like you doing on the floor!" There that static was again, but this time it was accompanied by an eerily familliar voice. You wanted to call out to Emily, or Sera, but they had already run off. Charlie and the girl by her side with Emily, and Sera to God knows where, leaving you alone with this shady man.

"I-" you began.

Without even extending his hand, this strange deer- whatever he was, pulled your hand up abruptly, holding onto it so tight you felt your blood stop pumping through the veins of your hand.

"What is your name, Sweetheart? I have to say, you and those little angels put on quite a show! All you little Oliver Twists are so adorable." The demon chuckled as he pulled you uncomfortably close.

"Please let me go." You said to the man, attempting to push him off but he only held you tighter.

"Aren't I quite the rude chap, I should have introduced myself before asking for your name." He grinned wider, spinning you around in a painfully familliar way.

"Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you!" He said, grabbing your hand and kissing it.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Alastor grabbed your hand, bowing down as he looked up at you, that sweet grin on his face. "Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you." He said, before sealing your fate with a kiss on your hand. "I hope that we can get along well." You gazed at him with wide eyes, your eyes raking over his bronzed skin and brown — almost red — hair. Glasses lined his gleaming eyes.

Those eyes were the same words that echoed in your mind in your worst nightmares.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

And now here you were, reliving that nightmare.

"What the fuck!" You yelled out, which caused some angels to look over at you. Sure, cursing was normal, but it was typically somewhat taboo on cloud nine and this was one of the only times you had ever cursed. You reeled your hand back, your eyes widened as you stumbled back. "I-it's you." You commented, holding your hand close to the pearl-white blouse that you wore.

"Yes, my darling, it is!" Alastor laughed once again, that sinister shit-eating grin still present on his face. "I'm surprised it took you so long to realise it." He commented, grabbing your hands in his, causing you to freeze up. "I had my suspicions the moment I saw you, but when you sang... oh..." He murmured. His face was filled with ecstasy, his claws going up to his face as he grinned deviously.

"I need to get out of here." You muttered as you turned on your heel and snatched your hands away, preparing to leave.

Alastor just grabbed you back into a tight embrace, his face propped against your shoulder. "I knew it was you, little bunny." The nickname only made you more uncomfortable than ever as you remembered the intimate moment when he first gave you that nickname.

"What's wrong, little bunny?"

The moment he spoke, your wings shot up, pushing him away from you and slapping his body aside. You flew up as he stumbled onto the pristine roads of heaven.

Don't come near me again, you wanted to say, but you couldn't find the courage to spit in the face of your murderer, not even now.

So, this time, you ran away.

You should have done that years ago. Maybe you would have lived longer then.

[pt.2]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x female reader #alastor fic #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #the radio demon

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nightgoodomens · 9 months

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Imagine Crowley is captured.

Imagine Metatron wants to kill him.

Imagine Aziraphale only finding out because he can suddenly feel Crowley is close, so he has to be in Heaven but where?

So he goes looking for him. Quickly. He’s worried. Something doesn’t feel right. There is something very wrong. He’s panicking.

He finally finds Crowley, being held down by archangels, and he’s trashing trying to escape them, wounds on his body bleeding on the floor.

Metatron is standing over him with Aziraphale’s flaming sword.

And Aziraphale screams what are you doing to him?!

And other angels grab him to stop him from trying to go between Metatron and Crowley.

Leave him alone!

Now it’s Aziraphale trashing, trying to push them away as they’re pulling him away from Crowley.

He stops terrified seeing them pulling Crowley into a kneeling position, Metatron nearly pressing the sword to the side of Crowley’s neck. He’s shaking from the pain, as still as possible to avoid the sword actually touching him, but it’s already burning his skin.

Aziraphale realises that they’re hurting him with his sword. They’re trying to kill him with his sword.

And then he sees Metatron taking a swing and Aziraphale screams.

NO!

Crowley opens his eyes because he’s not sure if he died or… he wasn’t dead. Metatron is starring at him terrified. Crowley is still kneeling. The sword is an inch away from Crowley’s heart. Frozen in place. The fire was out.

Crowley looks to the side and Aziraphale is kneeling, and there is a white glow surrounding him, his halo shining bright over his head.

Is he so bright that it makes Heaven suddenly look grey or he took all its power to save him?

There were tears in Aziraphale’s eyes but not from regret. He was angry. He was so angry and betrayed. So terrified for Crowley.

You are going to fall for this!

Crowley could hear Metatron’s sneer towards Aziraphale but the angel and demon were still looking at each other, eyes locked. Crowley felt anger building in him at Metatron’s words, but he was so exhausted and hurt…

And then he felt energy coming back to him and he knew it was Aziraphale.

You fool!

Metatron shouted at Aziraphale and Crowley felt more than anger, something breaking in him too.

You see, demons could do very little while in Heaven, any demonic move impossible.

But Aziraphale just cut Heaven’s power off.

And Crowley felt all his demonic powers awakening and rushing into him all at once.

He saw Metatron taking a step back and Crowley smiled. It’s a smile Aziraphale would have been terrified of normally.

Aziraphale has never seen Crowley’s true demonic form before.

And here he is, right in front of him, in Heaven out of all places, eyes turning red and looking at Metatron, dark shadows surrounding him, there is a sneer and a hiss in the air that feels like it’s coming from everywhere, but it’s Crowley and suddenly his black wings appear, bigger than ever, throwing the archangels away from him harshly.

And Aziraphale thinks he looks like the devil.

No. You are going to fall today.

And Aziraphale swears Crowley’s lips have not moved yet they heard the terrifying voice, and Aziraphale gasps shocked because Crowley is standing up, his wings putting them all in darkness and Metatron’s wings start burning.

He screams and Aziraphale has never seen anyone fall but it’s terrifying and Metatron disappears after a long, painful moment.

Aziraphale can feel the power snapping again and he stumbles because he can’t hold it anymore and the bright whiteness hits him and Crowley.

At once he sees Crowley’s wings disappearing, as well as the darkness surrounding him and the red colour from his eyes, and Aziraphale catches him in his arms as he collapses.

Crowley…!

#this was meant to be an idea #but became a little fic #just while you wait for proper fic updated #good omens #crowley #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable dumbasses #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #aziracrow #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #aziracrow fanfiction

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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notes: full version of this. contains mild brat taming, spanking, holy imagery. reader is genderless. special love to @dhampling who read over the start for me, and M for being my beta 💕

pairing: astarion x LG!Paladin!Reader

rating: E

words: 3k

Astarion looks at you, and he wonders.

He wonders, back when he was a spawn stalking through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, if his sheer proximity to you might have burnt the alabaster skin from his bleached, undead bones. That is the force of your radiance.

Every part of you is a perfect fragment of your god. Sunshine-brilliant and drenched equally in his glory and wrath, there could be no doubt that you are a child of Pelor. You carry his emblem on your armour and his love in your heart. Your skin has a dreamy pearlescent lustre, soft and hearty, and you seem to glow from the innate light within you.

It makes Astarion sick.

You are so nauseatingly good. When he met you on the road near the crash site it was your first instinct to help. Not to second guess his nature, not to wheedle any masked truth from him, but to draw your sword and offer protection to a stranger.

He got the jump on you, of course - but he recalls how easily you laid him out on his back in return. When he was staring up at you, forcibly unarmed, and the sun framed your face like your god had in that moment blessed you with a halo just to spite him.

And still you had reached out a hand to him in friendship.

You hadn’t withdrawn when the truth of his condition came to light. He figured someone of your vocation would try to run him through without a second thought. But instead of offering him the point of your blade, you offered him your neck.

“If my blood will strengthen you then I will gladly share it,” had been your words. He wanted to prove you wrong for your kindness, to drain you dry just to spite you - and your taste had been ambrosia. Sweetly blossoming on his tongue he had almost lost himself in the taste of you, until once again your firm hands pushed him away.

No. He would not get to end you that night.

Every day the two of you bickered. You, the stalwart immovable paladin; him, the nefarious rogue always up to something. The two of you were total opposites. It seemed almost cruel that fate had forced you into being travelling companions. And yet…

And yet.

Whenever you finished swapping barbs (well, the threw barbs at you, and you remained unbothered in the face of them, deflecting his venom with the pavise of your cool-headedness) he would see you smile as you turned away. He’d be well aware there was one on his own face, too.

Stupid. Weak.

How he managed to get you into bed after that party at the Grove, he’ll never know. It was a gamble and the dice were not in his favour. But he gave it a go anyway, drolly mentioning the quality of the wine and the overwhelmingly oppressive atmosphere. When he suggested meeting you later that night he braced himself to be staked.

But that hadn't happened.

You’d been surprised, definitely. Eyebrows raised and smile sudden, but you’d said yes. You’d even giggled at the idea, dizzy like a schoolchild.

And, admittedly, he felt an erotic thrill as he sauntered to meet you in that clearing. One he thought himself incapable of experiencing any longer. He was never excited about sex any more. He’d tried to convince himself it was due to his stygian soul, that a creature like him lying with someone as pure as you would be a defilement, would be sullying your holiness - something to bring you down a peg or two. Make you not so out of everyone’s reach.

Out of his reach.

Perhaps, though, in the corner of his mind he tried to wall up, he just relished the idea of being close to you.

And close to you he was. Your grip on his cock was warm and sweet as he slid inside you. You bared your neck and he found the bite marks that were becoming a permanent fixture on your skin, the softest place on you - every other inch was hard muscle. A reminder of that shield you carried, the righteous sword you swung. He made love to you in the most passionate way he knew possible.

He hadn’t realised he’d wanted to hear the sound his name made from your lips as you came around him. It burned into his soul.

He expected you to fall asleep quickly, after, but no. You’d actually held him. As if he weren’t some creature of the abyss but…

Well, your equal.

You hand had caressed his back in a way he’d never known before, soft and sweet, reading his scars like braille but not asking for their origin. Instead you’d opened up yourself a little and let him hear some of the chapters of your life.

He wasn’t surprised when you told him you swore your oath as a teenager. You grew up in the church, devoted from youth, and he could picture you: pocked-faced and wide-smiled, knowing exactly how you wanted to live the rest of your life.

So sure-footed. He was jealous. He was smitten.

“Do you ever regret it?” he’d asked, burying himself into the warmth of your body. You’d shaken your head and looked him dead in the eyes, so utterly sincere that it moved him.

“I rarely regret anything. Not my oath, not the nautiloid… not you,” you’d whispered before kissing him.

And, true to your word, you never did.

Nowadays? You make him feel safe. Protected. Watched over both in and out of battle - whenever anyone tries to take advantage of his vampirism, when they act like he is a thing rather than a person, you are the first one to his side to defend him.

It forces him reevaluate how he feels about himself; question if he is, in fact, a being worthy of love.

He hates it.

He is looking at his reflection in the mirror of you. Yes. You do see something worthy in him, something worthwhile and deserving of your nurture. It makes him so damned scared. Because if that’s true, it means maybe there’s more to him than the vicious little cretin he portrays himself as. Maybe he is worthy of it all. Of kindness. Of love.

Of you.

His soul begins to itch. He needs to do something to realign his universe, put things back into the way they’re meant to be. He needs to be a rogue, damn it!

Your adventure has called you back out to the Emerald Grove. With Isobel safe after the attack at the Last Light Inn you were comfortable leaving the Shadowlands for a while under the knowledge that before you fought Kethetic things were unlikely to get better, but also unlikely to immediately get worse. Astarion erects his tent on soft grass, relieved to not be surrounded by magical darkness, and waits for you to be distracted.

It does not take long. You are swept up in good-natured conversation with Wyll, discussing some sort of swordfighting technique he neither knows nor cares about. When he is certain that no eyes are on him he simply melts into the gloom of evening.

Where he belongs. Pathetic creature.

As far as he can tell, nobody notices him. The shadows cling to him like a second skin, like his body was made to have them mould around him, and he heads into the Grove. It is easy enough. The druids are all busy, guards down ever since the tieflings left, he just needs to not make too much noise and they are easy to pilfer from. Nothing too big or obvious. Nothing they really need. A healing tincture here, a handful of rare herbs there, a couple of silver pieces left loose on a stone desk. But the more he takes, the less it thrills him.

It occurs to him that none of this has the same impact that it used to. Once, the idea of robbing good people blind filled him with glee. Now, he can only picture your face every time his hand flits out to snatch something up. How disappointed you’d be with him. He is trying to fill a hole in himself and it is one that you have made. It sounds violent, but truth be told it’s anything but - he has been split open by your kindness, as if you were simply trying to carve away the rot and allow him to properly heal. That healing has barely started, and he's trying to patch over the necessary work with old bad habits which used to bring him joy. Not any longer, though.

No. His soul isn’t in it today.

He returns to camp with his heart and pockets heavy. He wonders what he should do with his ill-gotten gains. Return them? Perhaps, as quietly as he took them in the first place, making sure no attention is paid to him. Gloss all of this over like an artist sealing a painting, finish this nasty piece of work.

He’s so lost in his own thoughts that, when he pulls back the fabric door of his tent, your presence there makes him actually jump.

You’re sitting on an old wooden chair, dragged over from your own quarters, legs crossed with one of your pauldrons in your lap. A cloth is grasped in your hand and you’re taking your time shining the metal. He catches you doing this a lot. You like to make sure your armour is in tip-top condition, every day. You once told him cleaning your plate mail is an act of worship for you, and he found that quietly ridiculous; Pelor forbid you get any blood on the thing saving your life every battle.

He freezes when you look up at him. The door falls closed, trapping the two of you in the canvas together.

“You’re up late,” he says, trying to affect nonchalance. He does not think you’d be here if this was a social call, at least not with such a serious countenance.

He’s been rumbled.

“Mm. I was in bed when I received a missive.” You hold the pauldron up and breathe a stream of warmth onto it, watching it fog before polishing the same spot.

“What sort of missive?”

“Nettie said she saw you skulking around the grove.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Bloody druids and their bloody perception. He’s going to torch that bloody Grove and all of those green-fingered bastards in it.

Except no, he’s not. He’d never. Not now. But he still finds himself going on the offensive, crossing his arms and scowling.

“Oh! ‘Skulking’, was it? Was that the actual word she used?”

“Yes, Astarion.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, so he just harrumphs.

“You know that I do not lie,” you add on, as if his silence threatens to be damnation of your oath.

“Mmm, I’m aware of that, and it is incredibly vexing!”

Finally you put the pauldron aside, all attention on him now. Hands clasped in your lap. Serious.

“Turn out your pockets for me please, Astarion.”

Fuck. Fuck.

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

You sigh.

“Is that because you’re denying you went and robbed our druid friends, or you just don’t want me to see what you took?”

His face burns. He doesn’t answer.

“Please, Astarion. Be a good boy.”

Oh. Oh. His body has an… involuntary response to that, one he wasn’t expecting at all. He feels himself throb as those words settle about him.

“You’re not in charge of me,” he protests, but there’s little oomph behind it, because slowly his defences are beginning to fall. You need do so little and he is laid bare at your feet. He would lay himself bare at your feet.

He wonders if he can push you further. He wonders if this is all working for you as much as it’s working for him.

“I know I am not, my heart. But when you act like a brat I have little choice but to treat you like one.”

His mouth falls open at your brazenness, a perfect pink ‘o’.

His lips say, “I’m not acting like a brat!”

His cock says, I am and it’s on purpose.

“Pockets,” you say one more time, and he feels the full force of your gaze upon him. Half-hard and flaming-cheeked, he gives in. Slowly he divests himself of all of the grove’s trinkets and treasures, laying them out on the floor at his feet in a slow display of shame. You remain absolutely neutral through it, face hardly moving an inch. When he unhands the final bunch of herbs you finally speak.

“Come here.”

If his heart needed to beat, it would be racing. He feels himself twitch in his underwear.

He comes to you.

You reach out, wrapping a strong but sure hand around his wrist, fingers encircling its width perfectly… and then with a single tug, you topple him over into your lap.

He squeaks. Well, really, it is more of a moan, as he lands across your knees, your palm running across the swell of his arse. He’s never been so humiliated. He’s never been so aroused.

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask, voice feather-light, as solemnly as if you were swearing a vow.

Ever since he escaped Cazador, he never lets anyone do anything he doesn’t want to his body. He won’t let them have control over him ever again. But this? You? That is different. He knows if he said a single word to the contrary, you would cease. You would not exploit him or take him for granted. He knows that he is precious to you, a thing to be treasured.

And for that, he trusts you to the ends of the world with him. To take care of him.

To give him what he needs.

So when you ask him if he wants you to stop, even though he knows what’s coming, he whispers, ‘no.’

The first smack steals the air from his lungs, a breath he did not need but must have taken on his way over to you. It is a firm sting, and his cock goes from half-mast to full embarrassingly quickly.

Your hand goes back.

On the second smack, he finds himself mewling, a desperate little noise beckoned from the back of his throat from your ‘punishment’. It is one of rapture. He begins to try and rut into your thigh for some sort of relief, but you open your legs wider in order to remove his purchase on you.

He whines. It isn’t fair. You keep going.

On the third, his arse has begun to smart. If he had blood his cheeks would be rosy, he’s sure. And yet each strike is like lightning up his spine. He has begun to leak into his britches just from this, and he feels pathetic and small, but so thoroughly safe and looked after in your embrace.

You ask him if he wants to continue. He nods so violently his neck threatens to break.

If this is the penance Pelor would have you deliver, perhaps he can find it in himself to be a religious man after all.

His head empties as you keep striking, but he hears the way you pause after every slap to listen: take notice of if he wants you to stop. When the only sounds you hear are moans of satisfaction, you keep going. He lies there, bonelessly aroused and limp-bodied, his whole universe centred entirely onto your hand and his cock.

“Do you want to come, Astarion?” you ask, eventually, voice heavy with desire. He nods, and for the first time he realises he has tears of overstimulation trickling down his face, so desperate is he to find release.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck…” he groans.

“And you’ll be a good boy if you do?”

Fuck. Anything you want.

“Yes…”

Your hand snakes round to cup him through his trousers. It only takes a couple of strokes over the fabric, and your touch is enough to finish him off. He comes in his underwear like a teenager who cannot control themselves, mewling and sobbing in desperation. It is like a blinding light across his eyelids, he swears for a second he sees your god in the white-hot intensity of his orgasm. The best one he’s ever had.

You’re an angel, a fucking angel sent to be his salvation.

As he rides out his climax against the meat of your palm, he feels the other one rubbing across his sore backside. It occurs to him you’re using your Lay on Hands to soothe some of the sting for him, which, if he were more lucid, he’d find utterly ridiculous; however as it is the ache in his arse is still pleasant but now less demanding of his attention.

You manoeuvre him to sit up, letting his whole body collapse into yours. He is aware, through the cotton-clouds of his thoughts, that you are whispering his praises. Telling him how well he did. Reassuring him how much you care for him. Letting him know how proud you are. He’s never been so pleased in his life, and rubs his face into your neck, like a pampered cat seeking attention.

“Are you alright?” is what you ask eventually, after you’re sure he’s returned to himself properly.

“To be honest, I don’t remember the last time I was better,” he manages, and you laugh in a gravelly little chuckle.

“Good. Your happiness matters to me.”

He can’t think of anyone who that’s ever been true for. He’s humbled that you have the sincerity to voice it. You are so… you’re so…

Wonderful.

Even now, you care. He’s never had that before.

“Astarion…”

“Mmm?”

“Tomorrow, you’re returning those things to the Grove.”

He groans and you laugh again.

“Come on, now. You said you’d be good.”

“Fine! Fine. Just… don’t make me think about those nature-loving freaks while I’m bathing in the afterglow, hmm? I just had an orgasm that sent me into the astral plane. I’d like to enjoy it there a little longer.”

You do not argue. He feels your lips curl into a smile against the soft skin of his neck.

Later, you’ll carry him to the nearest stream and wash him, your hands dancing across his skin like worship. You’ll treat him as if he is a holy relic. Precious.

It will be then, in the water and softness of your touch, he will realise that he loves you.

The next day he gives back what is stolen. He can’t look at your thighs without his cheeks burning.

taglist & those who seemed interested: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @clairetheflower @foxiecelery @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @useless-contributions @beardedladyqueen @hopeful-n-sad

#Astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion fic #bg3 fic #astarion x tav #Astarion smut #Also it says your skin has a pearlescent lustre. That isn’t meant to reflect skin colour - rather how matte it is

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farity · 1 year

Text

In friendship

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: Aemond’s taken you for granted until rumors of your betrothal to another begin to swirl

“My lady, to what do I owe the honor of your company?”

You smiled at the tall, handsome prince, dressed in black as always. “Prince Aemond,” you were pleasantly surprised at finding him here in the library although to be honest, you had hoped he would be. “I am researching the architecture of Flea Bottom since I am forbidden to go in person.”

“Ah.” He placed a marker in his book and left it on one of the tables before walking toward one of the bookcases. “I believe you can find what you are looking for right here.”

You smiled to yourself. Oh yes, what I want is here, right before my eyes.

He reached up to grab a volume and brought it back down. “Hmmm. This is only the story of one of the builders. I suppose you want detailed descriptions?”

“Yes, I’d like to do some illustrations.”

The shelf he’d plucked the book from was too high for you, so you slid the small stepstool over and the prince put out his hand to help you climb atop it. His hand, so much bigger than yours, was warm, and you let go of it reluctantly once you were higher up. You turned to find yourself staring down at him, the candle light making his pale hair glow like a halo.

“It’s not often I find myself looking up at you,” he murmured. “You have a smudge, charcoal, maybe.” He indicated the spot on his own face and you immediately brushed the back of your hand over it, but when you pulled your hand away, he shook his head. “Let me.”

He reached out to brush the offending mark himself, brushing his fingertips lightly over your cheek, and then turned his hand so it was his knuckles now sliding down the side of your face.

You held your breath.

You’d known Prince Aemond most of your life. Your mother was a friend of his mother, you were only a year older than him, and were used to casual touches. He’d offer you his arm as you walked around the keep, or you’d grab his hand in order to climb a fence. You’d been there for him when he lost his eye and you considered him the person you were closest to other than your mother and your sister. Spending time with him was always a highlight of your day, and as you’d both grown older, you’d felt the friendship change a little. You’d caught him looking at you at times, and when you walked arm in arm with him these days, you were very aware of him next to you.

Your mother knew of your evolving feelings for him, and you hoped that someday she might speak to queen Alicent to work a betrothal between you two.

He was looking at your parted lips, hand still on your face. “My lady,” he whispered, moving just a little closer. You inhaled the leather and spices scent of him, felt the cool peppermint of his breath on your jaw.

“My prince.” Your voice was a mere rush of air as you caught the look in his eye as it met yours. There was hunger there, raw and powerful, and the next thing you knew he had stepped back.

“I wish you success in finding what you seek.”

He left you there, and for a few moments you were stunned. He’d been about to kiss you, you were sure of it. The sudden change in his demeanor left you hollow, and you stood there, wondering what had happened.

* * * * *

The next day you were sitting in the gardens, absently staring at the same page you’d been looking at for the last hour without understanding a single word.

You covered your mouth as you yawned, exhausted from spending the entire night reliving every second of those few moments with Aemond. What had happened? What had gone wrong?

“Daughter.”

You jumped at your mother’s voice, almost dropping the book you held.

“I’ve called you three times, my darling.”

You turned to see your mother, smiling kindly at you.

“I am sorry, lady mother, I was lost in my book.” You joined her, and she kissed your cheek before taking your arm.

“Darling daughter, there are wondrous news,” she said gently. “It is a great day for our family.”

Was this it? Had she spoken to the dowager queen?

“What news, mother?”

“You are to be married . . . “

Your heart soared and you sighed. Everything would be set right. You and Aemond were to be married. Your greatest desire was about to come true.

“ . . . to Lord Cregan Stark.”

* * * * *

You headed to the library to return the book, but when you saw Aemond sitting by the fireplace you nearly turned around. He had seen you, however, so you steeled yourself and walked in.

“Prince Aemond.”

He turned, and you saw he had removed his eyepatch. You had seen him plenty of times without it, one of the few people allowed that privilege -

as if it meant anything

- but the fire in the blue gemstone he wore paled in comparison to the one in his eye.

“I am told that congratulations are in order, my lady,” he said, his tone emotionless.

“I’m only here to return this book,” you said wearily.

He stood and held out his hand. You gave him the book, careful to not touch him, and he walked to the bookshelf to return it to its usual place.

You turned to leave and found yourself pressed against the bookcase, the prince holding your wrists. "Are you looking forward to meeting your betrothed, my lady?”

You tried to push him away but he barely moved, easily holding you in place. “I do not have time for this, Prince Aemond. I need to go.” You didn’t look at him, simply wanting to go to the peace and quiet of your rooms.

He stepped closer, the heat of his body enveloping you. He lowered his face to yours, whispering in your ear. “Are you looking forward to the bedding? To him planting a babe in your belly?”

You had tried. The feel of him pressed against you, the scent of him, the silk of his hair as it brushed your cheek, you had tried to get away. It was all too much and you suddenly pushed him back, startling him. “And why in the seven hells do you care?”

Aemond opened his mouth, but you continued. “Why do you care, my prince? We are nothing to each other but childhood friends, is that not the case? Why the sudden interest in the delights of my marriage bed?”

He lunged at you, one hand cupping your face, the other against the bookcase, effectively trapping you there. He was so close, his nose against your cheek, his mouth but an inch from yours. If you turned ever so slightly, your lips would touch his. “Tell me, childhood friend, when you spread your legs for him, will you think of me?”

You shivered at the words, at his venomous tone. “I might,” you spat back, “but it will be his name I sigh.”

Aemond pulled back as if you’d slapped him, eye wild with fury.

It wasn’t enough. You wanted blood now.

Raising your face, you whispered, “oh Cregan. Oh Cregan!”

You saw the moment he snapped, the moment that wall he so carefully kept around himself collapsed, and briefly wondered if you’d gone too far.

The answer was swift and punishing, and before you knew it, he’d hauled you against him, mouth devouring yours. One of his hands held your head in place, his long fingers grabbing the tidy knot of your hair painfully, but you didn’t care. Here was victory, here was fire, and you kissed him back, your own hands delving underneath his tunic to feel the muscles beneath.

When he lifted you in his arms you quickly wrapped your legs around him, letting him walk you somewhere, you cared not where. Pulling away from his mouth, you began kissing and biting his neck, sucking on the pale skin until his breathing hitched and he stumbled, crashing against the wall before continuing.

You were now in his bedchamber, and when he placed you on his bed, you began pulling at the laces on his tunic, the ties of his breeches. He pulled the tunic over his head, throwing it aside before pulling out his dagger and slashing through the ties on your bodice. Some other day you might have worried about it. Some other day you might have said something.

He bared you completely, the hunger in his eye flashing in the dim lighting of the room. “Mine,” he whispered before shoving your thighs apart. “Say it.”

Nodding, you complied, “yours. As you are mine.” The silver silk of his hair fell like curtains shielding your face from everything else, and he kissed you as he began pushing inside you.

For a moment you wondered if this would work, he felt so big, but he took his time, letting your body adjust to this new invasion. “You feel so fucking good,” he said, desperately trying to go slowly so he wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’ve always been yours,” you whispered as you reached up for him. “Take me and make it true.”

With a groan, he snapped his hips, tearing through your maidenhead and seating himself fully inside you. The pain was sharp and you cried out, your vision blurring for a moment. Aemond stayed still, his only movement that of nuzzling your cheek. “Mine,” he repeated softly, over and over.

You pulled his mouth to yours, and rolled your hips experimentally. The pain was almost all gone, and you did it again, smiling when he moaned against your lips. He pulled back slowly, “please,” he said desperately, “stop. I can’t, I can’t-” but when you moved a third time, he gasped and began pumping his hips against you, his breathing fast and hard as he filled you completely. He reached down and began to swirl his fingertips on the slick bundle of nerves between your legs, dragging a ragged whimper from you.

The coil low in your belly was tightening with every snap of his hips, every turn of his fingertips. You had touched yourself before, but this, this claiming, the feel of him within you, the heat of him against you, the smell of his skin, this was new, and overwhelming your every sense.

“Come for me,” he said, “I want to see you fall apart.” He ran his teeth alongside your jaw and someone screamed as the coil snapped inside you, sharp tendrils of pleasure tearing through you. You vaguely felt his body go taut as he groaned and then collapsed against you.

* * * * *

He had a servant tell your mother you were spending the night in Helaena’s chambers. You had done so before, whenever the princess was in need of a friend to listen to her.

“I have been a fool, pretending I did not care for you.” He kissed your lips so gently and tenderly, you almost wished that had been your first kiss.

“Why did you?” you asked. “Why did you pretend you did not care for me?”

He let out a breath. “Because you deserve better than me.” His voice broke on the last word, and he swallowed.

Reaching up to touch his cheek, you smiled at him. “Better than a fine warrior, a learned man, a loyal son?” you whispered, “a cherished friend?”

“I have been less of a friend than you deserve.”

“Aemond, I could not ask for more than you. You are everything to me,” you added.

He leaned down to kiss you again. “As you are to me.” He met your gaze and you saw the tears in his eye. “I love you. I think I always have.” He pulled you to his side, kissing your forehead. “Tomorrow I will speak to my mother about your betrothal.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you

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alta1red · 4 months

Text

HAZBIN HOTEL . IMAGINE . II 'The Darling Artisan from the Clouds'.

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀 : [ NAME. ] Is exploring Pentagram City, and runs into a certain Radio Demon..

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : [ NAME. ]'s luck might either be the worst, or the best no in-between . Alastor being a creep . OOC Alastor . Small amount of dialogue .

𝑷𝑻. : II.

— Well, congrats ! You somehow managed to avoid probably all the wrong kinds of people in Hell ( that being certainly 99% of its total population.. ) , was it due to sheer luck? Or by some stupid twist of fate something else awaits you in your path? Maybe, maybe not.

• As you wandered the streets of Hell and witnessed around One.. Hundred incidents of violence, abuse, prostitution, people getting mugged and drug dealing —You remained peaceful (?), ( you held your art matierials closer to your figure. ) although your inspiration did take abit of a dark turn in its source. Your cloak, and subtle presence helped you alot in hiding your angelic features .

• But your presence certainly didn't manage to slip by a certain .. Shadow Minion of a Radio Demon.

• 'It', 'He'? Observed you with careful precision, you certainly didn't think you'd be able to just waltz around in Hell unnoticed, did you? As you wandered mindlessly through Pentagram City blissfully and ignorantly prancing around as you gazed at horrid theatrics.

• How interesting ! Oh how 'His' smile got even wider ,

• As you accidentally bumped into people left and right in the Enertainment District, you always muttered small apologies —As if the reciever was even sober to hear it.

• Your manners were impeccable, how kind of you ! It's almost as if you don't belong here.

• 'He' knows you don't.

• You feel it, the feelings been gnawing at your back for awhile now.. Someone has been following you, and so that's why you were practically near a sprint as you ran through Districts, and Border zones —Fully debating on using your wings to get away from 'It' entirely, but weighing the pro's and con's were obviously needed before taking such a drastic option and life threatening decision.

• And since you didn't want to be hunted down, or even worse —Reported to the King of Hell, you took alleyways and random directions hoping to run away and have its sight's lose you. ( Dumb Decision. )

• Now DEAR. You didn't think you'd run away so easily now do you? After all, the site of an angel after the extermination was worrying ! How he wanted to try Angel Meat —However, he must introduce himself to you first !

• As you ran into another alleyway —" Shit! Dead end — "

• A dark murky shadow formed behind you, your instincts caused you to turn into fight or flight mode — Your halo glowed violently reacting potently from your panicked emotions,

— START OF MEMORY.

" No need to act so —violently, My Dear ! " The Demon's voice had a static filter —possibly done on purpose, he donned a transatlantic accent —He felt powerful, yes —but you've been enhancing your ability, even when Heaven was probably the most peaceful place in the entire universe, despite the fact Adam caused a ruckus every now and then —but he's already dead, so peaceful it was once more;

The Demon found your panicked expression comedic, hilarious, fun.

Like Prey facing Predator.

Could it be you felt fear? Panic? Whatever it was, it was certainly messing with your train of thought— you needed to rationalize yourself !

Talking a sharp breath and sucking it up, you then inquired — " I'm so sorry Sir, I was just rather startled .. " Your tone was geniune, yes —But your actions certainly told what you actually felt —Your hands quivered and beads of sweat started to form under the hood of your cloak.

" What a frightened Swan ! What's an Angel like you doing here ? " 'He' mused, relishing within your frightened presence. Your gaze turned cold as you felt your sweat turn freezing, your jaw slightly agape—

You looked at him before saying, " —

— END OF MEMORY.

• Your encounter with the Radio Demon was far from pleasant, but you wouldn't admit it. It's not nice to do so,

—FIN.

#hazbin hotel x reader #Hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin #yandere alastor #alta1red #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n

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thatonebrazilian · 1 year

Text

Tolerate it

Summary: Everyone assumed you were fine, but what would they do if you just... broke free?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader; undertones of Carol Danvers x Reader; Platonic Clint Barton x Reader; mentions of platonic Wanda Maximoff x Reader.

Word count: Around 6K

TW: Deep angst, assassination attempt, betrayal of trust, suicidal thoughts, dealing with grief, self sacrifices.

A/N: I've been in the mood for angst, apparently. And I actually wasn't planning on writing anything (I shouldn't have, I was short for time as it was), but I was listening to Taytay and the fic just came to me. This will probably hurt a lot. Just hurt, not much comfort. Let there be pain.

You didn't know what you did wrong. You didn't know how you could fix this. You didn't know if it even could be fixed.

All you did, all you could do, was just sit there and watch her. She was reading, her head low, almost as if she was trying to keep a barrier between you two.

You sat in the corner of the room, watching her as she immersed herself in reports. The soft glow of the lamp cast a delicate halo around her, illuminating her beautiful, beautiful features. And yet, on that night, as on many before, the light seemed unable to reach her eyes.

You knew she was struggling, you were too. Everyone was. The Blip had taken many from their families, and the toll it took on those who stayed made many more lose their loved ones. The remaining Avengers lost Clint to his own darkness, and you lost the love of your life to what you could only describe as self-isolation.

Natasha had always had an unhealthy work-life balance, yet you always managed to counter that… But not anymore.

You had been together for what felt like an eternity, intertwined in a love that once knew no bounds. Now, though, there was a growing chasm separating the two of you. Natasha would only engage in conversations that revolved around missions and saving the world, and none of those came from you.

You used to be an Avenger too, with powers so astronomical that you never learned to control them. Bruce and Tony had to create some sort of inhibitor for you, lest you destroy the world by mistake.

You were probably one of the most powerful beings out there, but having no control whatsoever of your powers would only bring destruction, so you learned to live without them, the bracelet Tony made never leaving your wrist.

Being a somewhat powerless avenger was hard, but it was worth it. You saved people, you helped your friends.

But since the Blip things have changed.

After watching Wanda, one of your best friends, disappear right in front of your eyes; after seeing Clint's descent into darkness, you didn't feel like fighting anymore. So you decided to stop, you stopped so you could take care of yourself, take care of Natasha.

They were small, the things you did for her, but meaningful nonetheless. You'd wait by the door every day to greet her like a god-damned war hero, to show her some love and comfort after a hard day at work; you'd make her favorite dishes, lay the table with your best cutlery; you even took upon painting as it seemed to ease your mind, and you'd use your best colors for her portraits (and there were many)... And yet, all Natasha gave back were lukewarm smiles; hums, and nods in acknowledgment of your attempts at conversation, and a lackluster "thanks".

She seemed to simply… Tolerate it.

You woke up in the wee hours of the morning, the sun hadn't risen yet, and the moonlight shone through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Your gaze fell upon Natasha, who lay beside you sleeping lightly. The rise and fall of her chest matched the rhythm of her breathing, a calming sight that used to bring you comfort.

But then, as you watched her, you noticed a subtle alteration in her breathing patterns, something that would go unnoticed by anyone else. The steady rhythm became irregular, interrupted by moments of slightly shallower breaths and the briefest of pauses. There was a tension in her muscles that hadn't been there a second ago, almost as if a silent battle was being waged beneath her immaculate skin.

Natasha's eyes remained closed, her face serene as if she was lost in the most peaceful of dreams. But you knew the truth. She was pretending to be asleep. It felt like she didn't want to wake up beside you, like she simply tolerated your presence, but now even that tolerance seemed to be waning.

You wanted to reach out, to offer her solace, to take all the pain away, but the invisible barrier between you seemed impossible to break through. The distance that had grown between you now felt like a vast expanse, impossible to bridge. Her closed eyes spoke volumes, a silent plea for space, for time, for avoidance.

Your heart ached with the weight of unspoken words, your eyes burned with the sting of unshed tears. You missed Clint, he'd know how to deal with this, he'd help her, but he'd help you, too. He'd hug you and tell you that everything was gonna be ok, he'd make sure it'd turn out that way. You missed Wanda, she'd take you out to eat ice cream, watch silly sitcoms with you, tell you the stupidest jokes just to see you crack a smile, she'd even threaten Natasha if she imagined the other redhead was hurting you in any way, shape or form.

You missed your life, your old life, before the Blip.

You turned away from her, not wanting her to see the tears in your eyes in case she opened hers.

As it turns out, the first time Natasha had a semblance of a real conversation with you in… You don't even know how many weeks… Was to ask you to join a team to take down whatever new evil had shown up.

You didn't even think twice about it, you took the job, you'd do anything to get closer to her again.

The team consisted of you, Steve, and Carol, who was visiting Earth. You didn't even know where you were headed or who you were facing, you just wanted to come back with an excuse to actually talk to your fianceé.

As you prepared to get into the jet, you saw her there, giving off directions before everyone boarded. You wrestled with conflicting emotions, torn between respecting Natasha's need for distance and the overwhelming desire to break through the walls she had erected.

You felt a hand on your shoulder then, too warm to be Nat's, and you immediately felt the comfort she radiated.

Carol wasn't the most sentimental person, she wouldn't tell you that everything would be fine, she wouldn't offer comforting words, but she'd be there, a warm unwavering presence amidst the chaos (even if you rarely saw each other in person). She was the one good thing that the Blip brought you.

"Don't think too much about it," the blonde said, already knowing what was on your mind. "Keep your head in the game, I don't want you getting hurt out there, ok?"

You nodded while managing to keep to yourself the strong urge to hug her, to seek comfort in that friendly and familiar warmth of hers.

She nodded back, turned and boarded the jet, having already reviewed with Natasha her role in the mission.

You looked at your fianceé only to find her eyes already on you. You didn't think too much into it, though, she was probably just reviewing in her head the role you'd have for this mission.

Once again you found yourself wanting to go to her, but the fear of rejection loomed over you, a haunting presence that whispered of the potential pain that awaited if you ventured too close.

You turned away and stepped in the jet.

You stumbled into the Avengers' compound, a dull ache radiating from your wounded shoulder, the bloodstained clothes doing nothing to give you comfort.

The mission had taken an unexpected turn, and both you and Steve got shot. Multiple times.

As soon as you stepped through the quinjet's door Natasha was there, the worry in her eyes making you question if you were hallucinating. She walked to you, her eyes never leaving yours, it was almost as if you could feel her again, the old Natasha, your Natasha.

"What the fuck happened? You weren't supposed to get hurt!" she exclaimed in a mix of anger, desperation and concern. She ran her hands through her unkempt hair. It was an uncommon sight, indeed, to see her so disheveled.

You knew she had been worried, the moment Steve reported back you could hear her pacing back and forth through the comms, you just didn't know it would affect her this much. You didn't think she cared anymore.

Almost as if sensing your thoughts, Natasha took a hesitant step closer and reached for your hands. "You got me really worried." She said, her eyes looking deep into yours, her hands soothingly cold to the touch.

You could see she wanted to say something else, but almost as if she was waging a silent war against herself, she shook her head, released your hands and sighed. "Go to the med bay. I'll meet you there."

You nodded weakly, too tired from blood loss to argue. Too tired in general.

As you made your way to the medical facilities, the pain in your shoulder intensifying with each step, you couldn't help but think of all the times Clint saved your ass from stupid bullet wounds like these, or how Wanda would literally create a shield around you whenever you faced danger.

You missed them, you missed Wanda so much, and you couldn't help but wish it was you and not her. And Clint, god, you hated what he became, you hated the Ronin, you hated that he wasn't there to heal by your side, to heal with Natasha, but you still missed him so much.

As you entered the med bay, you were greeted by a warmth that made you question how she could have gotten there first.

"Bold move, jumping in front of a sea of bullets like that" Carol said, there was no warmth in her voice though. You closed your eyes.

"I couldn't let them shoot that child," you said, sitting on a cot and looking apologetically at her.

Carol gritted her teeth, her eyes scanning your wounded shoulder, the part of you that got the most hits, with a mix of worry and anger written across her face.

"So you just deemed your life less valuable than hers and decided to throw it away?" She clenched her fists.

"That's not it and you know it," you said in a small voice. It was worse, but no, she didn't know it. She didn't need to. You didn't want to burden her too.

Carol's eyes softened, she took a couple steps towards you and touched your uninjured shoulder. "I just worry about you, sweet girl." She said and sighed, "Look, I know you don't have much to live for right now, but you're one of my best friends, I wouldn't be able to deal with it if something ever happened to you. And by the looks of it neither would Natasha, despite all the shit she's been pulling."

It was amazing how Carol, just like Wanda before her, was able to fill you with lightness. With them, as well as with Clint, you felt cherished, cared for. You could never be more thankful for the blonde in front of you. Without Clint and Wanda here to support your near Natasha-less life, Carol was the one thing keeping you sane.

You just wished being sane was enough.

You managed a weak smile, though, and even if felt forced, it still seemed to have convinced Carol that you were ok. "I'll be fine, Carebear. Just a flesh wound. I know I haven't been in the field for a while, but it's nothing I can't handle."

Carol fought off a smirk. "Promise me you won't pull shit like that again, at least".

You saluted her, a mocking smile on your face, despite the ache you felt inside. "Aye, aye, Captain!"

She chuckled and shook her head, "You're the worst".

"But you love it!" Your answering smile was more genuine this time.

Her smile grew bigger, and you wished you could see it in person more often.

"I actually do." She said, shaking her head once more and turning away to leave the med bay.

It didn't take long for a nurse to come to tend to you. There were many bullet wounds around your body, although most were superficial. The worst was indeed your shoulder, having been hit four times.

You bitterly wondered how you could still be alive with all of these bullet holes around your body.

The minutes passed by, and yet there was no sign of Natasha, so after all your wounds have been treated and dressed you decided to go look for the redhead.

It was a bad idea. As you located her, your heart sank. There she was, tending to Steve's wounds, her focus solely on him. Even though there was nothing romantic about the situation, the sight of them together stirred a mix of emotions within you. Jealousy, longing, confusion. Betrayal. You wondered if there was something more between Natasha and Steve, a connection that surpassed friendship. You wondered why she would deem him deserving of having his wounds treated personally by her while you were sent to a nameless nurse.

Your mind raced, struggling with the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed you. Doubts crept in, and you questioned the very nature of your relationship with Natasha. Did she even love you still? Has she ever? Where was that woman who threw blankets over your barbed wire, leaving you just soft enough for all your other friends to approach? Why has she left you behind in her pursuit to build this new world instead of taking you along with her? The uncertainty gnawed at you, intensifying the ache in your shoulder. You made her your temple, your mural, your sky, but now you were left begging for footnotes in the story of her life.

As you stood there, watching her tend to his injuries, a deep sense of loneliness washed over you. The weight of the lack of acknowledgment you've been getting from her grew heavier, casting a shadow over the bond you once shared. The pain in your shoulder felt insignificant compared to the ache in your soul.

At that moment, you realized you couldn't take it anymore. You loved Natasha, you would probably love her till the end of your days, but you knew your love should be celebrated, and yet all she did was tolerate it.

You never thought about what she would do if you broke free, leaving the two of you in ruins. But that's what you did, you took the chains that bound you to Natasha and broke them.

You still longed for her, though, the neverending love you held for the woman felt like a dagger piercing your heart, a constant reminder of what you craved for, of what you once had. You wanted to remove it, to see it clatter to the ground as you bled out.

It was weird to gain the weight of her then lose it, but you needed to do it, you had to.

You were doing it for her as much as for yourself. Natasha had lost so, so much, but there was one person who could still come back, so you went to look for him, more in hopes of helping her than fulfilling your own desire of seeing him again.

Even if she didn't love you (which was the impression you got when you told her you'd be gone, looking for Clint, only to get a blank stare in response), you still loved her, you still wanted her to be as happy as she could, and you knew Clint was the person to make that happen, he was her best friend as much as he was yours.

You needed to help her heal somehow.

"She's been a mess since you left," Carol had said once during a video call, the vast expansion of the universe now looming right behind her, "don't ever tell her I said that, though." The grimace on her face told you she wasn't kidding.

"Steve's been trying to help more, even I am; I've been to earth since you left more times than I've been throughout my whole life. I'm afraid that if I stay gone too long, she won't be there when I come back… Since you left she barely takes care of herself. The place's a mess, she hasn't been eating much, and, again, don't ever tell her I said this, but I thought I'd never see her cry, and yet…"

You wondered if it had been all in your head, the way she seemed to avoid you, the way she seemed to take you for granted, the way she seemed to merely tolerate you.

In the midst of a turbulent storm of emotions, a newfound sense of urgency propelled your every step. You needed to find Clint, you needed to find him so you could go back to her, to see if she was really deteriorating that much, to ask her if it was all in your head, if you got it wrong somehow, if she actually loved you.

Time seemed to both crawl and fly, leaving you with moments of self-reflection in the solitude of your journey. Doubts and insecurities waged war within you, tearing at the fabric of your clarity. What if you discovered that Natasha's love had been genuine, but she had struggled to express it? What if she was simply too freshly traumatized to express it, and you had abandoned her at her worst moment?

You needed to go back to her, even if it was just to figure it out. But you wouldn't go back without Clint, you couldn't.

So you searched, and searched, and searched. And as you finally stood before Clint, his weathered face bearing the marks of his own battles, you found yourself engulfed in a deep ache. Two of the people you loved the most were immersed in pain, and you could do nothing to help.

"I can't believe you traveled so far, came all the way here for this," Clint spat, his voice filled with anger, his eyes filled with tears. "To ask me to come back so I can help her. Do you even worry about me? Did you ever stop to think that I lost my family? My wife's gone, Y/N! I lost my kids! Do you really think that I'm not dealing with my own shit right now?"

You shook your head, tears welled up in your eyes too, matching the anguish in your voice. "Fuck you, Clint! I'm not here just for her and you know that! You're my best friend, goddamnit, and you've been gone for years! I know you're hurting, but you gotta know that what you're doing is wrong, and it's not gonna bring Laura and the kids back." You shook your head, remembering the way the kids would all call you auntie Y/N/N. You sighed and shook your head in disappointment. "They would actually be ashamed of what you became."

You knew it was a low blow, but it was the truth, and he needed to hear it

The moment he seemed to register those words, Clint's eyes became full of this sort of anger that you've never seen your friend display. But again, this wasn't Hawkeye, this was Ronin.

Clint advanced upon you with rage in his eyes, his hand went to your throat, a dagger suddenly pressing against your ribs.

"Take that back." He said through gritted teeth, and you felt your eyes filling with tears once again.

Of course he wasn't above hurting you like this. He, too, didn't care about your own pain.

You were tired, you were so fucking tired.

"Do it." You said, your voice devoid of emotions, the hollowness you now felt was all it conveyed. "It's not gonna make any difference if I'm gone, anyway."

You'd be just another death on his account, just a wisp of a memory in Natasha's mind.

Clint's brows furrowed, but his grip was unrelenting. You took your hands to his, the one holding the dagger, and pulled it up, so it wasn't resting above your ribs anymore, but right at your heart.

"Please," you said with a wavering voice, looking him deep in the eyes, trying to appeal no more to your friend, but to Ronin, "do it. Please."

The dagger clattered to the ground, Clint took a step away, looking at his hand as if it had personally offended him. He then looked at you, but you didn't meet his eyes, you were too absorbed looking at the dagger on the ground, feeling the brisk sense of freedom evading you as it finally stopped moving.

You then felt his arms around you, your head suddenly tucked into his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice sounding desperate "I'm so sorry, Y/N, I'm so sorry," he kept repeating, and repeating, and repeating.

You shook your head, your own desperation making you cling to him "Why didn't you do it? Why couldn't you just kill me?!"

His arms tightened around you as you both fell to your knees.

"I'm sorry," he just repeated, "I'm sorry I took this path, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I wasn't a good friend."

You wished that he being sorry was enough.

When you came back, there was a talk about fucking time travel. The Ant-guy was back, and so was Tony, Thor, and even Bruce. Everything seemed to be falling into place, so why did you still feel so…. broken?

But, somehow, as you and Clint stepped foot inside the Avengers compound, the familiar surroundings embraced you like a long-lost home. The tension that has seemed to permeate your very bones during the journey began to ease, replaced by a cautious hope for what awaited you.

You knew things wouldn’t instantly fix themselves up; Natasha wouldn’t just come to you and apologize for all she’s done (no, that wasn’t like her at all); your heart wouldn’t suddenly be mended, even if she did; your mind wouldn't let you forget the pain, the deep ache the past five years inflicted upon you.

And yet, there was hope.

There was the possibility of bringing Wanda back, of having Carol around more often, of doing something good for humanity. Of making Natasha happy again.

The moment the doors opened you saw her. She was talking to the Ant-guy and to Bruce, her brows furrowed as she nodded along.

And then she turned her head and caught sight of you, and of who was by your side. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw Clint standing there, and a glimmer of something flickered within them, something akin to hope, but also akin to sorrow. Without a second thought, she started walking in your direction, coming faster and faster until she was running.

When Natasha reached Clint, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a long-awaited embrace. Tears pooled in her eyes, slowly streaming down her cheeks as she closed them.

There was a little lightness in your heart as you saw them hug, some sort of knowing that she'd be ok even if you weren't around anymore. She wouldn't starve herself, she wouldn't push everyone away, she wouldn't shut down. She'd survive, and then she'd move on.

In that moment, as Natasha clung to Clint, her teary eyes slowly opened. There, through the blur of her emotions, she looked right at you. And the gratitude that radiated from her gaze was palpable, as if a thousand unspoken words were contained within that single look.

Her hold on Clint loosened slightly as her eyes locked onto yours, lingering for a brief, intense moment. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time as the weight of her gaze met yours. It felt as if the universe held its very breath, waiting for the next chapter to unfold.

You wished you could say you could feel her love through that gaze, but you didn't know if you could use that word to describe what Natasha felt for you. Maybe she regretted what she did; maybe you became her anchor, even if unbeknownst to you, and she felt like she needed you to function; maybe she felt like she owed you something for bringing Clint back. You didn't know what it was, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the word love would be the wrong one to describe her feelings for you. Gratitude, thankfulness, maybe, but not love.

You smiled a sad smile, and nodded your head in acknowledgment to the gratitude in her eyes.

Natasha furrowed her brows and pulled away from Clint as she saw you walking away from her, but before she could come after you, Clint caught her hand and walked towards the opposite direction. He wanted a conversation in private.

You just knew he was going to tear her a new one for what she did to you. During your journey back he had apologized more times than you could count, his words still engraved in your mind.

"I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust," he had vowed, his voice filled with determination. "I'll prove to you day after day that I care, that I value our friendship above all else. What happened the other day… it'll never happen again, I promise you that. I was too absorbed in my own pain, so much so that I hurt you, but I would never do that intentionally, Y/N. You're like a sister to me, I'd never willingly hurt you. I love you too much for that."

Maybe his love was real, but you didn't have it in yourself to just forgive and forget.

Maybe one day the gods would deem you worthy of love. True love, not the kind that hurts you.

"A soul for a soul" the Redskull said, turning the vast expense of cosmic beauty before you into something bleak, final. "You must sacrifice that which you love."

Your eyes wandered, drinking in the breathtaking scenery, the towering cliffs and cascading waterfalls; it seemed like a paradise carved from dreams.

But the words hanging in the air casted a somber shadow over the planet's beauty, and as you stood near its vibrant precipice, the weight of what had to be done pressed upon the three of you.

Destiny had brought you here, demanding a sacrifice.

It was a curse and a blessing all at once.

"If we don't get that stone, billions of people stay dead," Natasha stated, her voice tinged with determination, almost as if she was trying to keep herself strong.

Of course she'd want to be sacrificed, the selfless fool that she was.

Clint's gaze met hers, his eyes filled with a mixture of conflict and resignation. "Then I guess we both know who it's got to be," he replied, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. They didn't spare a single glance your way, it was almost as if they had mutually decided that you were to live.

A subtle sadness washed over Natasha's features as she nodded in agreement. "I guess we do."

You closed your eyes. You had been wanting this for so long, you had craved the peace I'd bring, you had fantasized about it, about closing your eyes and never opening them again.

And yet… you found yourself wanting to cling to life with an unwavering grip.

As Clint and Natasha looked at each other, you found yourself wanting to greet Laura, Lila, Coop and Nate when they came back, you found yourself wanting to have a nice day out with Yelena. You found yourself wanting to embrace Wanda and never let her go.

It hurt to know you wouldn't be able to do any of that.

"I'm starting to think we mean different people here, Natasha." Clint said then, his voice wavering slightly.

For a moment, Natasha's gaze lingered on Clint, her eyes reflecting the depth of her conviction. "For the last five years, I've been trying to do one thing: get to right here," she confessed. "That's all it's been about. Bringing everybody back."

She looked at you then, her eyes brimming with tears "I was so focused on it that I drove away the one person I had promised myself never to hurt.",

You couldn't look her in the eye, you couldn't let her see your decision through your gaze.

Clint's shoulders seemed to sag, you could see the self-blame he felt right through his eyes, even if they were focused on Nat. "And that's why it gotta be me. You spent all this time trying to help what was left of the world. Me… you know what I've done. You know what I've become." He shook his head, his eyes turning to you as well "If you haven't gotten to me, I'd still be killing an untold number of people without a care for who it'd hurt."

"Well," you said, shrugging, trying to lighten the mood a little "I don't judge people on their worst mistakes." There was no point in holding grudges anymore.

"Neither do I." Natasha said, looking at him. Her eyes turned to you then, full of sadness, longing , and regret. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

You walked towards her and pulled her in by the hand, your forehead resting against hers.

"I love you, Nat. You've been forgiven since day one." You said.

Natasha's tears streamed down her cheeks as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

You saw from the corner of your eye Clint taking a step back, as if to go to the cliff. You extended your hand to him as well. He stopped in his tracks and took a couple steps in your direction, taking your hand in his.

He smiled a sad smile, his eyes red. "Tell my family I love them" he said, and tried to pull his hand away, but you gripped it with all the strength you had.

"Tell them yourself," Natasha said, pulling away from you as well.

You sighed, your eyes burning with unshed tears. You didn't want to die anymore. You wanted to live.

But you couldn't let them sacrifice themselves.

You ripped the bracelet Tony made from your wrist. It clattered on the ground. Natasha and Clint's eyes widened, almost as if they hadn't even thought of the possibility of you being the one to jump.

You felt an unbearable heat rising up from inside out, your lungs burned, your chest, your torso, your whole body.

"Y/N what the hell are you doing?!?" Natasha yelled out, trying to get to the bracelet on the floor, but the burning winds that seemed to suddenly emanate from you wouldn't let her get closer.

"Take care of each other. And of Wanda and Carol. That 's all I ask." You said, your voice no longer solely yours.

You saw a rising shadow on the ground, signaling the presence of wings on your back. Blood red wings engulfed in flames. The Phoenix's wings.

Clint was rooted to the ground, your power vicious enough to paralyze those of weaker minds.

Natasha, though? She was fighting to get to you, the winds clearly burning her skin, yet she didn't give up. You turned away from her, not wanting to see her struggle.

It was a short walk to the edge of the cliff, you didn't want to look back. If you said goodbye it'd make it feel more real. So you just jumped.

And then you felt her hand on your wrist, the searing heat making her skin burn, and yet, she didn't let go.

"No, please. Not you." She cried, and even with tear stained cheeks she was the most beautiful woman you've ever seen "I can't lose you like this. The world can't lose you. You're the only one of us that really deserves to live life to its full potential."

And then, as if her touch made your power purr in her presence, Clint broke free, running to where you were dangling and taking your other wrist in his hands.

This was hurting them, both physically and mentally, you saw the skin on their hands blistering, you saw the redness in their arms, the tears in their eyes not just from the pain.

"Let me go," you said with a sad smile. They had their families, they had their jobs, their missions; their homes.

You had nothing, all you did was take up too much space or time. They deserved to live, even if you left them in ruins.

"It's not gonna work!" Natasha shouted in desperation, her expression one of pure anguish "I don't love you! It's not gonna work!"

You smiled sadly at her. She really didn't love you, did she? She just tolerated you.

"It 's ok, Natty. It'll work. You may not love me, but Clint does " you said, smiling at her through your own tears.

"Y/N, please, don't do this," Clint begged too, sobbing as he held onto you with all his strength.

"It's ok," you repeated, and if it was to calm them or yourself , you didn't know, "it's gonna be ok".

You used whatever little control you had over your powers to push them away. As your body tumbled to the ground the last thing you remembered was the way Natasha used to laugh at your jokes, enjoy your food, take you out on dates. The last thing you remembered was how she used to love your presence, and not just tolerate it.

Maybe one day someone would be enough to have their love celebrated by her.

When Natasha and Clint woke up not much later in a galaxy colored lake, she clutched the stone that had appeared in her hands, wishing with all her might that it turned out different, that the last words she said to you weren't "I don't love you."

She loved you. Always did. Always would.

Wanda sat in front of your gravestone, her hair disheveled, her eyes red shot, her cheeks tear stained. She hugged her knees as she sobbed, longing for the presence of who could no longer be by her side. She had lost her parents, then Pietro, Vision, and now you.

She sobbed more and more, the pitiful sound getting louder.

She felt a hand on her shoulder then, and she looked up to see red shot brown eyes.

Carol sat beside her, taking her hand and squeezing it a little.

She understood what Wanda was going through, she was grieving you as well, and even though Wanda and Vision were planning on starting a life together, the witch suspected the Captain wouldn't have said no if you'd asked the same thing from her. So she, too, lost her love, even if she never got the courage to confess it.

It was a hot day, the sunlight shone perpendicular through the clearing where your grave has been put, creating a magical scenery all around the place.

And yes, the day was hot, but was it supposed to be this hot?

Wanda shook her head, her brows starting to sweat.

And then the sunlight vanished, as if something gigantic was blocking its path. She and Carol looked up, but all they could see were the trees blocking the sky from view.

The animalistic cry they heard didn't come from the trees, though.

Neither did the blood red feather falling through the leaves, its tip engulfed in fire.

Wanda and Carol looked at each other, and for the first time in weeks, they smiled.

Natasha Romanoff Taglist: @strangegardentaco, @madamevirgo, @Lovelyy-moonlight, @agent99galanzo, @red1culous

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small-sinclair · 1 year

Text

In My Arms

Vincent Sinclair x Reader

Contains: passionate kiss, cuddles

Enjoy

At the end of the day, the skies fade to a deep purple and a burning orange light. Vincent normally doesn't see sunsets, but he managed to snag the sight as you dragged him outside to the gentle green and yellow field of wildflowers. You carried a blanket and a picnic basket that you found from a tourist and packed it full with two sub sandwiches, a small container of brownies, and sodas.

"I know you've been working so hard lately," you said as you unfolded the blanket and placed it down. He took off his shoes as you had him sit next to you. "So, I decided to make you some dinner! I know it's not much but..." your voice trailed and paused as Vincent placed a hand over yours. You could fell his smile under his mask.

'It's okay. This is nice, too.' His hands signed. He knows you're still learning how to speak with him, and it'll take time before you and understand him fully. 'It's a nice spot you picked. Why here?'

You take out the paper plates and some napkins, setting them up for you and him. "There's a meteor shower tonight," you said with a smile. "I asked Bo it he could have the lights off in town, so we could get a perfect view." The last remaining sunlight lit a halo in your hair. "Also, it's getting a bit stuffy downstairs. You need some fresh air." You gave him his sub and placed yours in front of you, offering a smile. "And I thought you would need some inspiration from the shower! A little bit of space themes here and there would so some good, I think."

You looked forward and started eating your sub. Next to you, you saw the wax face sitting between you and him. It has been months before Vincent took his mask off around you. When you first saw his face, you thought he was the most prettiest human alive, perfect in every way. When he did have his mask off while you two shared a bed, you'd kiss his scars gently, making sure he knew how much he meant to you. the love for this man was beyond anyone's understanding. Bo would give you shit about it, but he knew that this was one of the best things that's happened to his twin. The kindness you give and the tender lover you two bloomed was just want the artist needed.

His raven hair hung on the other side of his face, and he was facing his "better" side. His bright blue eye sparkled in the dying sunset as his shoulders relaxed to the food. He loves it whenever you cook for him, either if it's just a sub sandwich or soup. He closed his eye and smiled to himself. It's been a while since he's eaten something, but he'll never tell you. Goodness, he's lucky to have him by his side. You'll never know how many drawings of you he has all over his workshop. The photo of you smiling tucked in a locket around his neck hidden under his shirt and a drawing of you sleeping in bed hidden under scraps of papers... he'll keep it hidden from you as long as he can.

"You okay, Vincent?" Your words interrupted his thoughts. "You've been chewing the same bite for a while now."

He swallows hard, blushing in embarrassment.

You put the last two bites of your sub down and slid next to him, putting the mask on the other side of you with care. "What's going on in that mind of yours, darling? Something wrong?"

He shakes his head as he put his sub down. 'Just thinking about things. That's all. I promise.'

You lifted a brow as you playfully nudged his side. "Was I one of those things?"

He lifts his shoulders, laughing silently to himself. You rested your head on his shoulder as you looked at the purple and blue sky. The hum of bullfrogs and crickets started their song, singing for Louisiana herself. You hand intertwines in Vincent's, his other hand holding the sub. The comfortable silence between you two was filled with the sounds of the marsh and bright firefly lights. They circled you two, lighting Vincent's eye in flames and gentle glows. It almost felt as if a part of heaven has dropped on you two.

He finished his sandwich, wiped his hands, and, shifting slightly, he lifted you up to place you on his lap. You let out a giggle as he buried his head into your neck, leaving small kisses down your skin. He held you close as he looks up to the sky. His scars burned without any light as the other half looked up as the stars started to show. He looks breathless in the firefly light.

You blushed as you raised a hand, resting on his smooth skin. He jolts at your touch slightly, but he leans into your hand as a large hand held it there. He turned his head and placed a kiss on your palm. He looks back at you and grins as you blushed.

"Oh, Vincent," you whispered as you felt him pulling you closer and tighter. "You're so beautiful."

He rested his head against yours, his chest rising and falling ever so gently. When he looked into your eyes, he smiled. Fuck the stars in the sky and curse every planet and galaxy. You were his everything, and he could get lost in your gaze forever.

He leaned down and places a hesitant kiss against your lips before placing another, deepening it as he pulled you in. He wanted more of you, more, more, more, and deeper and deeper did the pit in is stomach grow. Vincent thought if he could have you close to him, he would be whole. he thought you completed him from every light and darkness, every daydream and nightmare. You calmed his heart and his mind when thoughts of blood and death plagued him, and he wanted to hold you close and never let go. His arms brought you closer, an arm holding your back to keep you upright and supported, his hans getting tangled in your hair. Your hands clung to his shirt, pulling gently as the grip tightened around the fabric.

When you pulled away, both of you were breathless. You rested against his head as you felt his warm breath down your skin. He lifted your head by the chin. He pushed your hair back and smiled warmly down at you. In his arms, you were here, you were real, you were his.

His lips parted as a raspy voice struggled out, "I love-love you, y/n."

Your eyes grew wide; you never heard him before. But your eyes returned to love as he stole a kiss. You smiled against his lips, your hands pushing his raven hair behind his ears.

"I love you more, Vincent," you said with your smile still showing. "I love you so much."

'All the stars in the world could never compare to you, my muse,' his signed against your skin. He met every word, and he'll repeat it over and over until your heart believes. He takes a deep breath and whispers, "I love you, y/n."

You rested your head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Your eyes looked up to watch the meteor shower, but his eye never left you. Never once did they looked up. He had everything right here in his arms.

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair #house of wax fanfic #house of wax 2005 #house of wax (2005)#house of wax fanfiction #house of wax #house of wax x reader #vincent sinclair fanfic #vincent sinclair house of wax #house of wax x y/n

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rubra-wav · 2 months

Note

Hi I have this super specific idea if you could maybe do headcanons for it

Charlie, Lilith and Lucifer met Lucifers ex wife which Lucifer left for Lilith and she has changed alot her personality has gone from a shy submissive woman to a more independent and emotionally stronger woman (if you could maybe add the ex wife's daughter and son that are also Lucifer's which he did now about) could you make it angst and platonic thank you

Charlie, Lucifer & Lilith x Lucifer's ex!reader : 'A Changed Soul'

A/N It got a bit vague with lore at points so I'm sorry if the gaps I filled in were really off (Thinking about Lucifer giving more kids daddy issues bro 💀🧍🏻‍♂️)

She's written as an angel who's gone to hell to look at the hotel for Sera after Pentious is redeemed/ the extermination.

Also yeah ofc this is my headcanons for how Lilith acts and whatnot, could be proved absolutely wrong in S2. Never in a million years thought I'd be writing Lilith directly 😭

Cw: SFW, angst, fem!reader, platonic

Charlie

- When you show up on her doorstep, introducing yourself as (name) and as here to review the hotel, she's in awe of you frankly.

- Charlie would be shocked upon meeting you for several reasons.

- Obviously, you're her dad's ex which is extremely awkward to say the least, but also you're so much more different than what she had heard from all the rumours surrounding you.

- Charlie of course agrees to allow you to look around despite how cautious Vaggie is of you, trailing ahead of you and nervously explaining the hotel's various amenities as she went.

- She calms down slightly when you say that you don't hold anything much against her for simply being the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. That you were just here for business and nothing more.

- At one point during the tour, you abruptly stop in front of the big family portrait of Charlie, Lucifer and Lilith, fist and jaw clenched as you look up at it.

- Charlie stands near the hall as she watches your halo glowing somewhat threateningly before you sigh deeply and calm yourself. She's sympathetic to your anger.

- It's then when Charlie is utterly horrified to learn that she actually has half siblings that she never knew about as you tell her about them.

- And that's when Lucifer himself finally shows up.

- All in all, Charlie just feels incredibly bad for you, she's not too surprised at how different you were since Lucifer left as she wasn't born at that point. She's more shocked to learn that she has family she never knew about.

Lucifer

- When Lucifer sees you in the hotel next to Charlie who ALSO looks displeased at him, he instantly starts panicking.

- "(n-name)! It's been a while- I-! Whats- uh. How have you... been?" Sweat rolls down his brow as he awkwardly grins, looking rapidly between you and his angry daughter.

- You raise a brow at him, hands on your hips as you eye him. "You mean how have I been after you left me and my kids?"

- Lucifer is floored by the tone you give him and takes a couple of seconds to truly realise how much you've changed since he was in heaven. It's clear as can be that you aren't who he used to know.

- Terrible guilt stabbed into him as he realised he was definitely the reason why your warmth and shyness had seemingly ceased to exist.

- He apologised, looking to the side while awkwardly shifting on the spot.

- Truthfully, Lucifer rightfully felt awful about what had happened. It stung to hear you refer to the kids you had together as not 'our' but solely 'my', and to see it was very obvious that you had moved on from him even if you were still pissed off.

- Lucifer naively followed Lilith away from you and look where that got him: Divorced by her, and left all alone to pick up the broken pieces.

- You shortly left after the small exchange you had with him, thanking Charlie on your way out and leaving him to deal with her confronting him about you and your kids.

Lilith

- Lilith was the last person you'd ever want to see again. However, she was a mark on the mission that Sera had given you, and you didn't want to drag out the rather unhappy trip down memory lane you'd already taken that day.

- You were already irritated as you approached Lilith to find her sipping a cocktail and reading a magazine.

- She looked up as you came to a stop about a metre from her seat. Her eyebrows instantly raised upon recognising you.

- "I have to say, it's not fun to know that the homewrecker who your husband left you and your kids for divorced him and then abandoned the daughter she had with him."

- Your words sent irritation flooding through Lilith, overpowering her surprise at your transformation and making her lip curl.

- "You ought to hold your tongue while in my presence." She coldly hissed, sitting up and folding her arms.

- The conversation with her would be even shorter then Lucifer. You simply telling her that that she ought to pay more attention to what her daughter was doing and the stir Charlie was causing for both heaven and hell alike.

- Lilith wouldn't feel a lick of remorse for her actions unlike Lucifer, and her surprise at the 180 your personality had done would be secondary. She truly doesn't care at all for what she did.

- She would be more angry than anything that you are lecturing her about what she believes is her own business and that you have the 'audacity' to address her in such a disrespectful manner.

Dramaaaaa

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel charlie x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel Lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer headcanon #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel lilith headcanon

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miltheperson · 1 year

Text

Priest!Wally Darling x Fallen angel!Reader

(A small breather from all the requests! This idea happened to spring up on me during the evening so suddenly, haha!) (Also this is quite… er… different from the usual fluffy stories I write… So… warning!) (Don’t worry! These won’t be the main things I write on here! My fics will readily go back to fluffy and cute right after this!)

Inspired by an old tale!

CW/TW: Possessive Behavior, Slight-moderate manipulation?, Darker topic and story, mentions of cult-ish religion, mentions of religion-related topics.

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

What Belongs To Me.

It was almost like you had fallen on purpose.

You had descended from the skies with a loud crash, right outside of Wally’s church. When Wally had found you, he had taken you in and decided to take care of you.

He believed you were a blessing from Home.

A gift sent upon his doorstep.

A blessing.

When you had awoken from your slumber, you were weak and agitated. You had fallen from the realm of angels, you didn’t want anything to do with earth, along with the people that ruled it.

Wally was absolutely captivated by you, your beauty and divine presence had him almost addicted. He was enamored and he felt such deep affection for you.

What a divine blessing from Home!

Rejoice! Rejoice!

You were clueless to Wally’s feelings, only seeing him as the kind person who had offered his church for you to stay and recover. You were terribly homesick and missed Eden so much, you wondered if your friends up there were looking for you, wondering what had happened and why you had disappeared.

Not need to worry though…

Wally was with you all the way.

Every step of the way he was right there for you…

You made the mistake of telling him some very interesting information one day while you sat with him on one of the pews.

“Once I go back home… I will forever remember your kindness… And I will tell them all about you.” You looked over at him with a smile, looking truly grateful.

“Oh, please. I was only doing what any good disciple of god would do.” Wally nodded, smiling right back at you. Of course, up to this point you had thought he was talking about the God that you served… Not the more… malicious… being.

“I am sure our Lord will be very pleased with you, Wally.” You chuckled softly.

“(Name)? May I perhaps… Ask you something? I’m just a little curious, is all.” Wally asked you politely, voice calm and serene as always.

“Yes, you may.” You nodded.

“About that halo of yours… What is so special about it? You seem to be taking great care of it.” He pointed at the glowing object above your head.

“You see, Wally. All angels and holy beings of God are given a halo as… Some sort of key to enter Eden… It signifies that you are a being of God and that you are able to enter Eden.” You explained to him.

“… And what happens when you… Don’t… Have your halo?” Wally looked as if he was very interested and very curious.

You thought it was because he wanted to learn more…

He did want to learn more… But for the wrong reasons.

“You are no longer able to reach Eden.” You answered his question solemnly. “Angels who have their halo taken away or broken here, are bound to stay on earth for eternity. We need to fly to be able to reach Eden, and our abilities come from our halo.” You continued to say.

“People can just take your halos away? Just like that?” Wally tilted his head, the shadow in his eyes seemingly increasing. Devious plans formed in his head.

“Only when an angel is vulnerable, can a person steal it… Instances such as an injured angel or a sleeping one, those are moments of vulnerability.”

“Hm… I see… Well it’s good that you’ve stumbled here then… It would have been such a misfortune if you had landed on… the wrong… persons doorstep…” Wally smirked a little, an almost taunting tone to his voice.

You smiled at this, believing in his “good intentions”.

“I am forever grateful… Soon, I will have regained my strength to fly… I will repay your kindness one day.” You bowed a little, truly grateful for him.

Wally’s eyes darkened as he stared at you.

You will be able to… leave…? So soon?

No.

No he can’t allow that.

That is not what Home intended for you.

Home did not want you to leave.

He. Did not want you to leave.

He can not let you leave.

Not when you mean so much to him.

His little angel.

His. Angel.

Leaving?

No.

He would not allow that.

He could not. allow. that.

And so, now the priest stood over your form as you slept so peacefully.

The halo above your head continue to glow even as you slept, casting that divine lighting over your captivating features.

He couldn’t help but smile, fixing the hair on your face.

You belonged here.

You belonged… To With him.

This is what Home wanted for you.

This is what Home intended.

Wally grabbed hold of the halo, staring at your sleeping face.

All he had to do now…

Was take it…

And break it…

Wally started to pull your halo, feeling resistance as he did. He was insistent, continuing to pull even as it stubbornly resisted his pull. The halo started to flicker, the resistance growing weaker and weaker. With one final pull, the halo ripped away from your head.

Wally stared at the halo for a moment, turning it this way and that. It was smooth to the touch and the glow was dull.

He took both ends, staring down at you with a dark glare.

You… stay… here.

CRACK.

He snapped the halo in half like it was candy, the halo dissolving into dust.

You woke up with a gasp, breathing heavily.

There was a stinging pain in your chest and you felt nauseous.

What happened?!

You started to shriek, grabbing your chest in pain. Wally quickly walked over, placing his hands over you. “(Name)?? (Name) what’s wrong!” He feigned worry, trying his best to comfort you.

You yelled out and writhed, it looked like you were burning.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”

You hurled yourself to the side, dry heaving and spilling out a golden shimmery liquid from your lips. You breathed heavy ragged breaths, looking at Wally with terror in your eyes.

“What… What happened to me…?” Your voice was coarse.

“… Your halo… It’s gone…” Wally looked saddened and horrified.

“No… No… No! NO, NO, NO!”

You screamed, your hands flying to your head, only to feel an empty place where your halo used to be.

You leapt to your feet, running out of the room.

Wally only walked after you, a light smirk to his face.

You can’t leave now…

You were here to stay…

With him..

He watched as you tried to fly, your wings flapping tirelessly.

You would lift into the air just barely, only to flop back down onto the ground.

You were sobbing and crying, lamenting that you would no longer be able to go home.

“(Name)… Dear… Please do calm down…”

Wally masked his smirk with a sigh, approaching your sobbing form.

When you stared at him, he knew now…

That he…

Got what he wanted…

You were truly…

His…

Little angel now…

#welcome home #welcome home fanfic #wally darling #wally x you #wally x reader #surprisingly these are actually my roots haha!#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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sunandmhoon · 7 months

Text

COULD'VE BEEN

Genre: angst Pairing: Mingyu X Reader "Have you ever thought about what we could’ve been?" w/c: 1143 a/n: Hiii guys!!! It’s been a while~ I recently got into seventeen, so I’m writing this little oneshot of Mingyu!! I hope you like it, and I’m sorry If there’s any grammar mistakes. enjoy~

MASTERLIST; OTHER WORKS

”Have you ever thought about what we could’ve been?

Looking up, he hummed. His eyes were focused on yours, a mix of longing, curiosity and something else. You both were where you always were on nights like this. At a quiet park, tucked between the trees. The leaves filter the moonlight into rounds of light on the ground, turning them into confetti around you.

“Sometimes,” he responded, “why are you suddenly asking?” to tell him the truth would be useless at this point because you knew you could do nothing with the situation you are in. so you just looked away, the heat from his eyes was reaching your face, a contrast to the chill of the air.

“No reason, it just came up in my head.”

You were lying to him. You knew it, he knew it too. You often wondered what those nights meant to him. Those nights where all you would do is talk until the sun came up. Those nights where his touch was more of a home to you than your own house. The nights where he would keep you company when you’re down; bring you food when you’re feeling hungry; take care of you when you’re sick.

Were those nights not as meaningful to him as they were to you?

A frustrated sigh interrupts the silence of the night. You were tired of this. Tired of hiding in the night. Tired of being second in his heart. Tired of it all. Maybe you were just used to his company, he was your best friend after all. Almost seven years together, and still you have this connection. Maybe it’s all just in your head. Maybe he never did think of you as anything else.

Those lingering touches, tattooed gazes, soft-spoken words are just in your mind. To him, its nothing but friendship. If the question you have in your mind right now is a future, you and him aren’t the answer.

“What’s wrong?” he gently nudged your shoulder. His thumb caressing your collarbone where your sweater had dropped, drawing shapes on your skin; circles, squares, diamonds, hearts.

“Do you remember that night in Miami?” you ask him but it’s clear that it wasn’t a question, more a statement. “The first time you put your arms around me.” his shapes halted, suddenly your shoulder feels cold. “What was that to you?” your courage finally came back as you shrugged his hand off your shoulder and turned to him.

“That night,” he started. He swallows, trying to compose his thoughts. He had a feeling he knew where the conversation would be going and he wanted to find a way to talk to you without scaring you, hurting you and hurting himself. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know what answer you’re looking for.” his hair was softly blowing in the breeze, following the direction of the leaves. The moon was behind him, leaving a soft glow around his head like a halo. He looked angelic. And though you were scared of what he would say, you still took your time to bask in him. His presence. “It meant something to me. So much, it hurts me to say.”

“Mingyu…”

“I shouldn’t be saying this but I’ve thought about that night so many times. Other nights too,” he confessed, his face though looked more relieved than guilty as he saw yours. A shameful pride ran across your face for a second. You were happy that Mingyu shared the same feelings you did, but at the same time you felt shame, you felt like an awful person. “I would’ve gone all the way for you, we could’ve been together if I wasn’t…”

“If you weren’t with her?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. He came closer, putting his arm around you, laying his head on top of yours. You had that feeling in your stomach, that bubbling feeling in your stomach where you know that something bad is coming up. “But you know, we can still be together,” he cupped your cheek. “It would be our secret; just between you, me and the moon.”

The look in his eyes is dangerous. It’s the look. The look of love, of longingness, of hope that pulls you in. it made you want to lean in closer and finally feel his lips on yours, it made you want to shout to the rooftops “HE’S MINE!”. It made you feel loved.

But.

“If we have to hide it,” you started, “what’s the point trying?” and as much as it hurted you, you peeled yourself away from him. Away from his scent, the scent of his woody cologne, away from the comfort of his strong arms, away from his face. “Did it really mean something if you’re not willing to fight for it?” you asked him, tears slowly forming in your eyes.

“Hey,” he tried to reach over to you to wipe your tears, but you dodged him, “it did mean something to me.”

“Would you leave her for me?”

The silence was enough of an answer for you. And although you expected an outcome like this, it still hurted you. It felt as if the structure your heart had been held by had finally broken, you could almost feel your heart fall and shatter into a million pieces in the pit of your stomach. The space in your mind filled with memories of him that was your haven had become crowded and claustrophobic.

You stood up from where you were sitting with him and dusted off your legs. You took a deep breath before turning to him, where he was already standing, watching you. You could do nothing, you could say nothing. And for the last time, you hugged him.

His touch was hot on your skin, but not in the way he made you feel warm like he had before. But in a way that it burns, as if you’re touching something you’re not meant to be touching. He’s not yours, you had to tell yourself, he will never be.

You bask in the bittersweetness of the hug, allowing your tears to fall on his cashmere sweater as he held you in his arms. You felt his hand caress your hair, planting a small kiss on the top of your head. You stayed there connected for what felt like forever.

When you finally break off, you both don't say much. The hug already did more than words could say. You exchanged a small smile, a smile that says thank you, a smile that says nothing will change between us but at the same time everything has changed. A smile that says I love you, and it sucks we can’t be together. A smile that says goodbye.

And as you walk back to your car all you could think of was,

‘Damn, what we could’ve been.’

-fin

#kpop angst #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen recs #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #mingyu angst

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lalarambles · 26 days

Text

pairing: saul “slash” hudson x F!reader

desc: reader finds out shes pregnant

warnings: smut below the cut, breeding kink, pregnancy, unprotected sex, p in v, use of Y/N (only once i promise) // lmk if i missed any pls

The sunlight streamed through the gap between the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Slash, the infamous guitarist of Guns N Roses, lay sprawled across the bed, his chest rising and falling slowly as he slept. His dark hair fanned out around his head like a black halo, his features chiseled perfection even in repose. Beside him, the sheets were tangled and rumpled, a testament to the passionate lovemaking that had occurred just hours earlier.

He stirred slightly, muttering something unintelligible before rolling onto his side and tucking one arm under his pillow. The familiar scent of him - a mix of sweat, musk, and cigarettes - enveloped her as she padded across the room. Her bare feet were cold against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the dresser to retrieve a fresh pair of underwear.

The apartment was small but cozy, with a well-stocked kitchen, a spacious living room, and a small, but comfortable bedroom. It was their sanctuary, a place where they could escape the chaos of the world and just be together. Now, as she took in the familiar surroundings, she couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over her. It seemed like only yesterday that they had moved in together.

She glanced over at Slash, still asleep, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He looked so peaceful when he slept, his features softened, his expression free of the burdens that he carried during the day. It was easy to forget just how hard he worked, how demanding the fans and the media could be. Being with him was like having a piece of the rockstar life without all the trappings.

She made her way to the bathroom, her stomach churning uncomfortably. She hadn't felt quite right for the past few days, but she had chalked it up to stress and their busy schedules. As she stood in front of the toilet, her knees weak and her throat tight, she didn't bother being gentle. She threw up, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as the bitter taste left her mouth.

Catching her breath, she walked back over to the dresser and retrieved a pregnancy test from where she had hidden it weeks ago…. suspecting something. She fumbled with the wrapper, her fingers trembling as she carefully followed the instructions. The minutes seemed to drag on as she waited for the results, her heart pounding in her chest.

Finally, she saw the two lines appear on the little plastic stick. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the test in disbelief. It was impossible; they had been so careful. They had been together for two years now, and she had never missed a period before. But here it was, staring her right in the face: she was pregnant.

She didn't know what to do. A million thoughts raced through her head as she struggled to process the news. How would she tell Slash? What would he say? Would he be happy? Would he want to keep the baby? They never really talked about it… Her heart ached at the thought of losing him, of not being able to share this moment with him.

He stirred in the bed, mumbling something incoherent before rolling onto his side. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to wake him. She knew she had to tell him, but she wasn't ready for the conversation yet. She wanted to have more time to think, to prepare herself.

The sound of the toilet flushing down the hall finally jolted him awake. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and glanced around the room. When he saw her standing by the dresser, he frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice still groggy.

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment. "I...I think I might be pregnant," she managed to say, her voice barely audible. Her hands were trembling as she clutched at the edge of the dresser.

Slash's expression instantly went from confusion to shock. He stood up, walking over to her and taking the test into his hand. He stared at her, then back down at the pregnancy test in his hand. His throat felt tight, his heart racing. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Slash's heart leapt with joy as he took in her trembling form, her hesitant words. "Of course I'm sure," she said, her voice wavering. He couldn't help but grin, a mix of disbelief and absolute elation washing over him. "This changes everything," he breathed, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. "We're going to be parents."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of wonder. "Really?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're sure you want this?"

Slash's heart skipped a beat as he took another step closer to her. His hands reached out, cupping her face gently. "More than anything," he breathed, leaning in to press his lips against hers. The kiss was slow and gentle at first, but quickly deepened as their desire overtook them.

She moaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. He could feel the heat rising between them, the hunger that had been building inside him for so long finally being released. He slid a hand down her back, pulling her against him as they moved together, lost in the moment.

Their clothes seemed to melt away, leaving them both naked and exposed. He ran his hands over her body, memorizing every inch of her, while she explored him with equal eagerness. The air was heavy with the scent of their arousal, and the sound of their breathing filled the room.

"I want you," she whispered, arching her back as he teased her nipple with his tongue. "I want to feel you inside me."

Slash groaned, the sound vibrating against her skin. "You have no idea how much I want that too," he said, picking her up and gently placing you onto the bed, slipping a finger inside her. She was wet and ready, and after a few minutes he replaced his fingers with his leaking cock. as he began to move, she let out a moan that seemed to fill the room.

Their lovemaking was urgent, passionate. He kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers as he thrust into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, arching her back to meet his movements. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard thudding against the wall.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against her neck. "God, you feel so good," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I love how tight you are around me."

She arched her back, digging her nails into his shoulders. "Then don't stop," she panted. "Don't ever stop." Her hips began to move in rhythm with his, their bodies in perfect harmony as they lost themselves in the sensation.

Slash groaned, the sound vibrating against her skin. "I could stay like this forever," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. He thrust deeper, harder, each movement sending a wave of pleasure coursing through her.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as she arched her back, meeting his thrusts with equal eagerness. The air was thick with the scent of their sweat and desire, and the sound of their skin slapping together filled the room. She could feel the tension building inside her, a familiar tightening that meant she was close.

"Oh god," she moaned, her body tensing as an overwhelming wave of pleasure washed over her. She cried out his name as her orgasm crashed through her, and he followed her over the edge, his release filling her.

They collapsed together on the bed, panting and sweaty. After a moment, Slash rolled off her, their sweaty skin sticking together.

He propped himself up on one elbow, gazing down at her. "You're absolutely beautiful," he murmured, tracing a finger along her jawline.

She smiled up at him, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. "And you're not just saying that because we just had sex?" she teased.

He laughed, a deep rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "No," he said seriously. "I mean it. You are breathtakingly gorgeous." He leaned in, pressing his lips against hers in a tender kiss. "And I couldn't be happier that you're going to be the mother of my child."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I feel the same way," she whispered. "I love you, Slash."

He smiled, kissing her forehead. "I love you too, Y/N." And as they lay there together, tangled in the sheets, the future stretching out before them brighter than ever, they both knew that they were in this together, no matter what challenges might lie ahead.

lmk if you enjoyed this in the comments (pls don’t be shy i don’t bite), i apologise if you detect any mistakes, english is not my first language also i think the amount of fanfics featuring breeding kink and slash is criminally low so i decided to write this 🤷🏽‍♀️

( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

#slash gnr #slash fluff #slash smut #guns n roses #f!reader #slash x reader #saul hudson #saul hudson x reader

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xueyuverse · 3 months

Text

The Angel Who Chose to Fall

🧵one-shot | 🔞 nsfw!

Prompt: Angel! Xie Lian/Demon! Hua Cheng

For @/nopommies for TGCF Gotcha for Gaza @/TGCFAction on X

⚠️ English is not my first language.

PT-BR version:

Xie Lian has long been the darling of the heavens. Everyone had their eyes on them, mortal, god, angel or demon, after all Xie Lian was a strange man with his almost infinite benevolence and a strong temperament, sometimes cynical and sarcastic, sometimes kind and merciful.

Even with his eccentricity, Xie Lian was the justice of the Mortal Realm, the center of the world.

No one knows what exactly made everything go wrong to the point where Xie Lian deliberately stooped to such a… dirty path.

How could Xie Lian, the number one angel of heaven, the favorite of the gods, have become a mere prostitute of the number one Demon King, the Scourge of Heaven!!!

Well, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng's story doesn't follow that path, and it wasn't nearly as short as to be summarized in so few words.

“But they’re not exactly wrong,” said Xie Lian, smiling facetiously as he held a book containing his legends.

Hua Cheng tsked, which only made Xie Lian laugh: “What? Don’t you agree that I’m a slut eager to spread my legs and warm the bed of Demon King Number 1?” Xie Lian questioned, his cheeks flushed from imagining himself in such a vulgar way.

He put down the book and climbed into his husband's lap, who placed his hands on his thighs and automatically pulled him closer.

“They shouldn’t talk about you like that.” Xie Lian raised an eyebrow, running his hands up and down Hua Cheng's abdomen and chest, removing the robe that no longer hid anything in the way. “No, scratch that, they shouldn’t even think that about you.”

Xie Lian shook his head and climbed further onto Hua Cheng's lap, sighing contentedly when he felt his dick right in the crack of his ass. “Um, weren't you the one who, our first time, made me live on water, bread and dick for ten days? Becoming an addict and a mere vessel for your enjoyment?”

“Gege!”

Xie Lian raised his eyebrows: “This is all your fault, San Lang.” He bent down to kiss Hua Cheng's chest. “Deal with the consequences.”

Hua Cheng's eyes darkened and suddenly Xie Lian was turned over on the bed, causing him to scream and laugh, his big white wings lightly flapped twice, and his arms were pinned against the bed by big, strong hands.

Xie Lian bit his lips, feeling warm, and tied his legs around Hua Cheng's waist.

“And my gege thinks he’s not to blame?” The demon asked in a cynically rhetorical way, pressing a thigh against Xie Lian's dick and drawing a sigh from him. Hua Cheng laughed, hoarse and dark. “Has he forgotten that he teased me for days as he fled my touches and ignored my advances until he exploded on his own, screaming that I should fuck him—”

Xie Lian screamed and flailed as if he wanted to hide, his face was red to the point that it almost made Hua Cheng feel sorry, but he definitely felt his dick throb. “I got it! Okay, I admit my hypocrisy.”

It was Hua Cheng's turn to raise his eyebrow: “I'm sorry, gege, but that's not enough.”

Xie Lian didn't say anything, he couldn't, any words he had to say were silenced by Hua Cheng's lips, only moans and sighs came out with the dominating touches of the demon's forked tongue.

Hua Cheng patted Xie Lian's knee twice, enough to have those beautiful, long legs open for him. Xie Lian was wearing nothing but a transparent white robe, which only made him even more adorable and made it easier for Hua Cheng to touch him, who only had to lower his hand to the angel's voluminous ass and insert two fingers inside him, already lubricated and relaxed from previous rounds.

Xie Lian whimpered and raised his hips in search of more of those touches. His wings flapped nervously against the mattress and his halo, a thorn-like mark around his head, glowed faintly. His robe opened and spread beneath him, which made Hua Cheng lean in hungrily and grab one of his nipples at the same time as he inserted a third finger, the three of them together constantly hitting the prostate.

Hua Cheng sucked, licked, sucked and bit Xie Lian's nipple hard, filling his mouth until he ran out of air. And the other nipple was not left unattended, the fingers of the demon's free hand pinched it, pulled it, twisted it and rubbed it, and in the end both were reddened and stuck up, one with teeth marks around it.

And as for Xie Lian, he desperately clung to Hua Cheng, his nails traced deep red marks on the demon's back and arms, like rivers of blood, his eyes were closed and his eyebrows were arched, his mouth was open in an "o" and saliva accumulated in the corners until it ran.

His back suddenly arched, his legs spread even wider and he stood up, his teeth pierced skin and flesh and his mouth filled with sweet demon blood, the musky smell only made Xie Lian suck in more of that blood, the taste of which was incomparably unmatched by any lamb.

Hua Cheng, who had already grabbed the other nipple and was now giving the reverse treatment, groaned as he felt the sharp teeth pierce his neck.

He laughed, his voice deep and mischievous, full of amusement.

“Ah, I didn’t realize my gege has been so hungry.” Hua Cheng withdrew his fingers from inside Xie Lian, which made Xie Lian groan, and turned them over. He sat against the headboard, with Xie Lian sitting on his lap. Hua Cheng lifted the angel by the waist, inserted his dick into his anus and made him descend. Just that made Xie Lian remove his teeth from Hua Cheng's neck and throw his head back.

Hua Cheng's dick had a scaly texture, full of bumps and bulging veins, so Xie Lian having such a... thing inside him, whether in his ass or mouth, stimulated sensations that made him hypersensitive.

Xie Lian grabbed Hua Cheng's arms, once smooth and now full of crimson scales, as well as his chest, part of his neck and around his left eye, lifted onto his knees and jumped.

Hua Cheng smiled and lightly squeezed Xie Lian's thighs: “My gege— ah… do you want to give me a show, huh?” Xie Lian nodded eagerly, “Yes!!!” Hua Cheng laughed and raised a hand to Xie Lian's face, caressed her cheek and pulled her lip, “Then let me enjoy it.”

Xie Lian pushed Hua Cheng against the pillows and bounced on his dick without stopping, his delicate moans and needy whimpers mixing with the demon's hoarse moans and rumbling purrs.

“Ah, my gege— nh, my angel… hmm, are you able to leave the heavens and roll in the dirt just for my dick?” Hua Cheng closed one hand on Xie Lian's hair and pulled, making him cry out cunningly.

“Yes!!!”

“Ah, so it’s all about my dick?”

The only response was a tearful moan.

Hua Cheng grabbed his hips, holding him still against his hips, deeply impaled by his cock.

“San Lang!”

The demon turned them around again, careful not to hurt the angel with the claws that had grown from his nails, put his legs on his shoulders and thrust, strong thighs slapping against his buttocks. Hua Cheng bent down to kiss and bite Xie Lian, bending him in half.

“Since gege is only here for my dick, then that’s what he’ll get” said Hua Cheng in an animalistic voice, which only made Xie Lian harden and drool more.

Xie Lian whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks: “Nh—I don’t even—oh, ah! —, I didn’t even respond! San Lang!”

“I took your silence as a “yes”.” He smiled evilly. Xie Lian cried more, but he couldn't say anything else.

***

“Why does San Lang have to be so mean?” asked Xie Lian in a fragile tone, his throat hoarse after screaming and crying for hours.

Hua Cheng laughed, squeezing Xie Lian in his embrace, his chest against his back, making him cry softly as his prostate was stimulated by the demon's hardened cock.

“Wasn’t Gege a little mean too?” whispered Hua Cheng into his ear, making a lazy thrust.

“Ah… San Lang, I was just surprised by the question at the time!”

“And now gege has an answer?”

Xie Lian smiled.

“Um… how could I have San Lang’s dick if I didn’t crawl through the mud for him?”

Hua Cheng growled, thrusting again, this time hard.

Xie Lian let out a scream, half laughing and half groaning.

“That would never be necessary. If my gege wants something, just ask me.”

#tgcf #xie lian #hua cheng #hualian #heaven official's blessing #hob #tian guan ci fu #crown prince of xianle #au hualian #angel xie lian #demon hua cheng

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perspectivestarters · 2 months

Text

Perspective's Sentence Starters; The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift (Part II)

GUILTY AS SIN?

I hadn't heard it in a while.

My boredom's bone deep.

This cage was once just fine.

Am I allowed to cry?

I dream of cracking locks.

Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox.

I'm seeing visions.

Am I bad, or mad, or wise?

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

Oh, what a way to die.

I keep recalling things we never did.

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

There's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.

We've already done it in my head.

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

What if I roll the stone away?

They're gonna crucify me anyway

What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly.

I choose you and me, religiously.

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?

You don’t get to tell me about sad.

If you wanted me dead you should’ve just said.

Nothing makes me feel more alive.

Who’s afraid of little old me?

You don’t get to tell me you feel bad.

Is it a wonder I broke?

Let’s hear one morе joke.

Then we could all just laugh until I cry.

I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean.

Don’t you worry folks, we took out all her teeth.

So tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?

Say they didn’t do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

All you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs.

I’m always drunk on my own tears, isn’t that what they all said?

I’ll sue you if you step on my lawn.

I’m fearsome, and I’m wretched and I’m wrong.

Put narcotics into all of my songs and that’s why you’re still singing along.

You lured me and you hurt me and you taught me.

You caged me and then you called me crazy.

I am what I am 'cause you trained me.

I CAN FIX HIM (NO REALLY I CAN)

The smoke cloud billows out his mouth like a freight train through a small town.

The jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud.

God, help her.

I told them he's my man

I can fix him, no, really, I can.

The dopamine races through his brain on a six-lane Texas highway.

His hands so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face.

I could see it from a mile away.

A perfect case for my certain skill set.

He had a halo of the highest gradе.

He just hadn't met me yеt.

Good boy, that's right.

Come close.

I'll show you Heaven if you'll be an angel, all mine.

Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man.

LOML

Who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames?

We were just kids, babe.

I don't mind, it takes time.

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed.

I felt a glow like this, never before and never since.

If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary.

You said I'm the love of your life.

You took me to hell too.

A con man sells a fool a "get love quick" scheme.

I felt a hole like this, never before and ever since.

What we thought was for all time was momentary.

Mr. Steal-Your-Girl, then make her cry.

You shit-talked me under the table.

I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all.

It was legendary.

It was momentary.

It was unnecessary.

Should've let it stay buried.

What a valiant roar.

What a bland goodbye.

The coward claimed he was a lion.

I'm combing through the braids of lies.

Our field of dreams engulfed in fire.

I'll still see until I die.

You're the loss of my life.

I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART

I can read your mind.

She's having the time of her life.

I can show you lies.

I'm a real tough kid.

I can handle my shit.

They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it till you make it" And I did.

Lights, camera, bitch, smile.

He said he'd love me all his life.

All the piеces of me shatterеd as the crowd was chanting "More".

I was grinnin' like I'm winnin'.

I can do it with a broken heart.

I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day.

I'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague.

I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art.

You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

I can hold my breath.

I've been doing it since he left.

I keep finding his things in drawers.

I didn't imagine the whole thing.

'Cause I'm miserable and nobody even knows.

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED

Was any of it true?

Who the fuck was that guy?.

Now you know what it feels like

I don't even want you back.

I don't miss what we had.

Could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?

You didn't measure up in any measurе of a man

Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

Were you writing a book?

Were you a sleeper cell spy?

In fifty years will all this be declassified?

You'll confess why you did it and I'll say, "Good riddance".

It wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

I would've died for your sins, instead I just died inside.

You deserve prison, but you won't get time.

You said normal girls were "boring", but you were gone by the morning.

You kicked out the stage lights, but you're still performing.

You are what you did.

I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive.

THE ALCHEMY

This happens once every few lifetimes.

These chemicals hit me like white wine.

What if I told you I'm back?

The hospital was a drag.

Worst sleep that I ever had.

I circled you on a map.

I haven't come around in so long.

I'm coming back so strong.

Ditch the clowns, get the crown.

Baby, I'm the one to be.

The sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me.

Honestly, who are we to fight thе alchemy?.

Hey, you, what if I told you we'rе cool?

That child's play back in school is forgiven under my rule.

I'm making a comeback to where I belong

We've been on a winning streak.

There was no chance trying to be the greatest in the league.

He just comes, running over to me.

CLARA BOW

All your life, did you know, you'd be picked like a rose?

I'm not trying to exaggerate, but I think I might die if it happened to me.

No one in my small town thought I'd see the lights of Manhattan.

This town is fake but you're the real thing.

Take the glory, give everything.

Promise to be dazzling.

The crowd goes wild at her fingertips.

No one in my small town thought I'd meet these suits in LA.

You're the real queen.

You're the new god we're worshipping.

Beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours demanding more.

Only when your girlish glow flickers just so.

It's hell on earth to be heavenly.

Them's the brakes, they don't come gently.

You've got edge, she never did.

The future's bright, dazzling.

#rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence prompts #sentence starters #sentence meme #sentence prompts #lyric sentence starters #lyric starters #music starters #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #ask meme #exodusmusing #*mystarters #*ttpd

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violetlunette · 2 months

Text

Runaway Chapter 10: Phantom

Summary: After searching for so long Lilia finally finds Silver. But is it too late?

Previous Chapter

Master List

Ao3

Notes: *Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7

Lilia continued the search. Yet, while the vines became thicker, there was still no sigh of the rumored specter nor a clue to confirm that his son was here. Lilia was starting to lose hope.

‘Did I choose the wrong place?’ He growled as he clutched the ring around his neck.

“Argh, fuck! Stupid piece of shit!” he cursed, using his other arm to swipe at his tearing eyes. It served Lilia right, though. What was he thinking following a dumb--

“Urk!”

Lilia was nearly choked as the chain suddenly yanked him forward by the throat. He was so surprised that he ended up tripping down the large hill.

“FuuuhhhAhhAhahAhhh!” His cries went up and down as Lilia rolled.

Crash!

WHAM!

Lilia's body hit a large boulder at the bottom of the hill.

Upside down, the world continued to spin around him as the fae's mouth, bones, and muscles all groaned.

“Ughhh! Of course!” it was just Lilia’s luck, wasn’t it? Shit, was all this bad luck that Leprechaun king’s way of getting revenge for tricking him that one time 300 years ago? Cause if so--

Whoooosh~

The area turned gray, layered by a strange mist that slowly filled the air. Around Lilia, the vines began to move like snakes cricking and cracking as they did so.

“ Ah, ah, ahh, ahhh, ahhhhhhh~... ”

The notes of a song drifted overhead and fell like raindrops. A song that was both strange and familiar...

It tugged at Lilia’s heart, springing tears to his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. Then he remembered.

It was one of the songs he used to hum to Silver when the lad was a baby, to calm him after a terrible nightmare.

A song he nearly had forgotten…

A shadow fell.

Then he saw it.

Lilia’s gaze widened in horror.

“It can’t be…” Above him was a phantom .

Despite living long, Lilia didn’t have an extensive experience with Phantoms. Though recently they had become more frequent, for a long time, they were rare.

Yet, despite his lack of knowledge, Lilia felt confident in saying that no Phantom was as beautiful as this one.

Its form was that of a Princess in sorrowful blue, floating upon a swirl of black mist. Like all Phantoms, it had an ink bottle for a head. This bottle was in the shape of a heart with a green light glinting off the glass. Atop the odd head, it wore a tarnished crown. It reminded Lilia of the ring that led him here. Yet what gave the Phantom its true beauty was its golden halo of hair. It hung in ringlets around the Phantom’s doll-like frame. Despite the green glow around the specter, it gave off no light, only a nimbus of darkness.

It sang a haunting tune like an old music box created to lull a child to sleep.

What held Lilia’s attention, however, was the figure she carried between delicate arms.

The man’s mouth fell agape, eyes growing twice their size as his brows pulled inward. His body began to tremble as the cold of winter plunged down his spine.

Through quivering lips, he muttered, “It can’t be... Silver! ”

Ink smeared across skin pale as the grave. The black streamed from closed eyes like tears, making it seem as if he were a boy crying in his sleep. The silver hair, for which he named, lost its moon-like shine and had become a dull gray, frayed like cobwebs. But none of that was what lit the terror that made Lilia’s old muscles turn to stone, nor made his heart stop dead as if shot with a bullet or turn his blood to ice. What did that was the blade. Said blade stabbed through Silver’s heart. The sword also pierced the Phantom, pinning him to its breast. The Phantom stroked the teen’s hair like a child, singing her lullaby. Lilia felt his mouth dry as he whispered, “It can’t be…” He then cartwheeled himself upright, turning as pale as the moon as his irises nearly vanished. His breath began uneven as he began muttering to himself, “No…It can’t…Please, no...” The chant became more and more desperate till it became a prayer. Mentally, he begged his mind to tell him his eyes were playing tricks. That it was all an illusion or a bad dream. Otherwise, the reality would be that his son was dead and that—that thing was cuddling his corpse like a doll. ‘No…’ he told himself. Lilia forced his panic back, and his rational side took over. ‘Silver could still be alive, just under an enchantment. Or could that…’ Could be his Overblot? It was difficult to see as the Phantom and the blade blocked most of his form. Regardless, Lilia knew his first step; freeing Silver from-- The Phantom turned an eyeless gaze upon him. Lilia crouched, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering from the chill going through his bones. Watching the foe closely, his hand moved to his clever, ready to pull and fight when-- It vanished.

Lilia blinked. He blinked again. Once more to be sure. Then his mouth dropped open.

“Huh? What...no...No!” Confusion turned to horror.

Silver was right there. He was right there! Dead or alive, Silver was right there before Lilia! And now he was gone! Again!

“Silver! Silver!” Lilia ran to the spot where the Phantom had disappeared, swallowed by the mist of the late noon.

“Come on, come on, come on!!” Frustration filled the fae as he clawed through the mist as if the action would reveal his lost son.

Alas...

“Augh!”

The anguished cry tore from his throat as the father fell to his knees.

S L A M !

He pounded a fist into the dry soil as his legs hit the ground. “FUCK!”

As the man's fingers dug into the dirt, a few tear drops escaped his eyes, his body shaking from frustration.

He was so close! He was so close, and yet—and yet…

Hick, sob, hick…

Lilia slumped forward, over weighed by grief.

“F--fuck...”

~*~

Once he regained himself, Lilia called Idia. Well, sort of.

He called Sebek, who took the phone to Idia, apparently breaking his door down to do so. The other was not at all pleased.

“Sorry about that!” Lilia apologized, cutting short the complaints. Had he not been so emotionally exhausted, Lilia would have laughed or found some amusement in the situation. “But I had something I really needed to ask.”

Lilia then went on to explain the appearance of the Phantom and its odd actions. Lilia wasn’t familiar with Phantoms, but he knew them to be aggressive. Silver’s Phantom, on the other hand, took one look at him before fleeing.

Idia sighed sadly.

“So, even Silver…” he mumbled. He trailed off before returning to the topic.

“It’s rare, but it’s not, like, unheard of for Phantoms not to attack,” Idia explained. “There are some who are, well, cowards and will choose to run instead. From what we can figure, it depends on how the person who blots over handles stress.

“Like, Riddle has a temper, so when he's pissed, he lashes out at everybody.” Lilia heard the story of Riddle’s blot from Carter and how it acted like a large child throwing a tantrum. Even Malleus’ Phantom had lasted out like a beast in pure rage. But Silver wasn’t like that.

Yes, the teen got mad and upset. He would occasionally yell as well, as rare as it happened. But when he was truly upset to the point his heart broke he ran.

‘Just like when he found out we weren’t related…’ Lilia closed his eyes as he recalled the memory and the child’s broken expression.

“ So… you’re not my father?” Lilia had been so stunned not by the question but by the torment on Silver’s face as the words were muttered through trembling lips.

Lilia flinched as a metaphorical dagger pierced his soul. That same anguish was on his face in the dream world, his body shaking like it had as a child.

“ Father… I—I…” Lilia’s heart broke.

‘Oh, Silver…’ After everything that happened, it was no surprise that Silver was distraught to the point where he must have felt like he was drowning. However, it took more than an emotional state to blot everyone over.

The teenager would have had to have used a lot of magic. The broom ride would have been tiring but not enough—

Then Lilia realized; ‘Meet in a Dream.’ Silver Unique magic.

Silver used that spell for who knows how long to save everyone. He also took travelers with him to several dreams. So, even though his body was resting, it must have taken a toll on his mental state and mana. And then with everything he had discovered and gone through…

A knot twisted in his stomach as his chest became heavy.

‘The reason Silver blotted over was…’ Because of him. Because Silver wanted to save everyone from his mistakes--

Lila’s grip shook till he tightened it on his phone.

“Then what about the Phantom in this case?” he asked Idia, keeping his voice firm. “Are you saying it’s not dangerous?” It wasn’t Idia’s voice he heard next.

“Well?! Answer him!”

“Eep! Stop shaking me!” Ah. Lilia forgot Sebek was there. From what he could hear, Sebek had become quite emotional about Silver’s state. Knowing Sebek, Lilia was surprised Sebek held back this long.

“Sebek, control yourself,” Lilia ordered. “Idia; is the Phantom dangerous?” There was an exasperated groan from the other side as Idia attempted to pull himself together.

“Uggghhh...Diasomnia...can’t deal…” He took another moment to compose, but Sebek barked something, and Idia jumped into his answer finally.

“Eep! Kinda?!” He (and Lilia) made Sebek back off before going into more detail. “They’re usually pretty harmless till cornered. Then they lash out like a trapped rat, ya know?” Then the Shroud sighed heavily as if something heavy was dropped on him.“The real issue is that while it's running the life is still being drained from its host.” Lilia’s skin nearly went transparent.

‘ Shit! ’ He forgot that. He forgot that a phantom drained its host of their life force.

Which meant that even if Silver was alive now--

“You mean… Silver’s going to die?” Sebek’s question turned the whole world static. He didn’t even hear Idia’s response.

Die, die, Silver? His Silver? His son? No! No, no, no!

“Hey, Lila? Ortho’s contacted STYX officers. They’re sending over a troop. It would--” Lilia hung up, his heart racing in his ears as he started running.

His jaw clenched as he breathed hard through his nose, his eyes growing wild. He didn’t know what would happen from here on out, but he knew this;

Silver was NOT going to die!

Next chapter

#mine #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #silver twst #silver vanrouge #lilia vanrouge #silver twisted wonderland #lilia twisted wonderland #lilia twst #twst lilia #twst diasomnia #twst runaway #twst fanfic

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