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01zfan · 4 months

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whose altar do you bow to? | s.es

politician!eunseok x fem. reader | 6.2k words

all may worship at your altar but whose do you bow to?

contains: religious themes, oral (fem. receiving), abandonment issues, problems regarding church culture, body worship, sub!eunseok

sacrilegious masterlist

eunseok left the church six years ago. you remember when everyone in your congregation hated him for it. he left the city to find opportunities and to do something more with his life. you had heard rumors of a prestige college, but many thought it was untrue due to his lax nature. unfortunately leaving the small town was unofficially known as the gateway to losing your faith. because of this, many considered him a nonbeliever.

truthfully, no one knew what eunseok did for those six years. nobody bothered to ask his family if he still practiced religion, because that would’ve been the logical thing to do. he never was a big part of the church socially, so when he left he was like a ghost. when eunseok disappeared without a trace, everyone saw this as an opening to spread rumors. you knew eunseok personally, the two of the oldest kids in the congregation. you two would be together in line for serving food, overhearing two women talk about another one.

“do they ever get tired of talking behind eachothers backs?” you ladle food onto a child’s plate.

“when thats the only thing to do, you can never get tired of it.” eunseok wasn’t even looking at the two women. he smiled at the next person in line, giving them a cup of fruit.

“still though. sometimes the congregation is so contradictory with their teachings versus practices.” you say.

“it is what it is. people will do what they want. thinking too hard about people’s actions will just cause unneeded stress.” eunseok says before smiling to an old lady. she declines the fruit cup, continuing down the line.

after the last person went through the food line, you and eunseok walked together to the prayer area. you two had a routine, falling into silence as you stared at the miniature altar for christ. you don’t know what eunseok thought about, maybe it was about leaving. you were too caught up in looking at him. as the same lady who was gossiping walked past you she gave you a fake smile on her face. your head followed her all the way down the hallway until she disappeared into another you. you scoff and return your gaze to the altar.

you knew eunseok was right, but you could never let it go. you had joined the church like most kids did when their parents were involved in the church. you didn’t consider yourself to be a nonbeliever, but you found yourself standing for what the church was supposed to represent. you liked helping people, you liked community service, you liked the kindness and acceptance that came with being a churchgoer. as you grew older you say that the way religion was practiced versus in theory was completely different. in your teen years, you clung to eunseok. he felt the same you did, but closer to when he left he seemed to accept it. your complaints fell on his deaf ears, and eventually he was gone.

you knew that what people said about him never bothered eunseok. you wished you could say he liked being talked about. eunseok was something like a celebrity of the church before he left. he was tall and kind. that was enough for him to be adored by the elders of the congregation. you were ignored and not held nearly as high in regard compared to eunseok. you accredited this to you constantly challenging the elders and calling out when they did something outdated. what bothered you was how unbothered he was when it came to himself.

when eunseok left, he left without saying a word. it would’ve been so easy to pass a note along to the pastor, or to say something during group. instead, he just left. so you had to deal with overhearing eunseok be the subject of gossip.

he left because he lost faith.

i heard he left town because he got some slut from his school pregnant.

he left to go to a city filled with drugs and alcohol.

he never learned hymns. he slept half the time.

may god guide that poor boys soul.

for six years you heard things you would be kicked out of church for repeating. you spent time defending the rumors at first. you would say the truth under your breath or tell the older women to mind their business with a smile on your face. you thought that you were invincible because you were equipped with the truth. you wielded the truth like a sword, trying to fight away rumors of someone you considered a friend. you learned the valuable lesson that the truth doesn’t overshadow the masses. you were protecting eunseok a little too fiercely, and ended up backing off when the rumors began to involve you.

she’s mad because she wanted eunseok to take her with him.

she should focus on finding a husband within the church instead of protecting one that has left it.

after becoming even more ostracized you started to adopt the same attitude eunseok had. you let the words wash off of you like rain. eunseok was lucky he wasn’t there for the fallout. you had become withdrawn and bitter towards everyone in the church. you would sit in front of the statue of christ, looking up at his pitiful outstretched hands. you don’t know how someone could be so merciful, so understanding. you were filled with unbridled rage looking up at his statue. that was the final time you bowed to the altar. you got up and dusted off your knees. you found this to be symbolic, brushing off what little devotion you had left to such a weak man.

six years later, you were still involved. you don’t know why you stayed. you often compared your relationship with the church as a friend you hated but couldn’t let go of—it weighed down on you but random moments of happiness made you stay. being in the building made you lethargic and looking at the whispering ladies made you sick. you didn’t see them as believers, you saw them as aimless people looking for something to poor endless praise upon. you saw them as less than nonbelievers.

despite your disdain for the church, you had more responsibilities than you did when you were in high school. the church often interfered with your career and part time job, but you also used it as an excuse. who was going to deny you the right to leave work early so you could worship? who would give you a penalty on an assignment that you missed due to you being needed at the church? clerical responsibilities were left in your hands. this was the effect of people leaving the flock too close together. you stopped caring why people left, or even learning people’s names in general. after some time, you would look around in the prayer halls or the lines at confessionals and you wouldn’t recognize a single face. you adopted the mindset that eventually, everyone would leave the congregation. you were just waiting your turn. you walked around the halls of the church and whispers followed you everywhere. they called you a nonbeliever, embodiment of an evil demon sent to destroy the church. you were blamed for people leaving, claiming that you were pushing people away from the path of righteousness. you found this ironic because your work for the church behind the scenes was one of the few things keeping it afloat.

maybe that’s another reason you stayed. as much as you hated those four walls you couldn’t stand to see them be torn down. eunseok was the same way.

you were assigning youth pastors to their groups when you heard his name for the first time in six years.

“song eunseok? why does that name sound so familiar?” mark said. instantly you looked up from the paper to eavesdrop on his conversation.

“song eunseok?” you repeated. mark and yeri look at you. you go back to looking at your schedule, gripping your pen a little tighter.

“yeah, do you know him?” mark says scratching his head.

“he used to attend the church when i was the same age as you guys.” you said. you remember the first time you met eunseok, thanking god for sending you someone who understood you. you almost chuckle looking at the paper recalling memories. if only you had known then what you knew now, you would’ve rebuked eunseok the moment you saw him.

“no freaking way, he went here?” yeri says, hitting marks shoulder.

“was he a youth pastor like us?” mark visibly gets excited as well.

you completely look away from your schedule now. how would these two know about eunseok? were there rumors floating around about him again?

“no, but he did help out with the church. why?” you say, trying to remain as neutral as possible.

“because he’s like a government official now” mark said. yeri looked at him and they both laughed, surprised you didn’t know who he was.

“what?” you abandon all efforts of sounding neutral.

“yeah look!” yeri shows you her phone.

you wish you could say you remained calm. your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw the headline. eunseok had made it out of your small town to a much bigger one, a place where he was included in making laws. you saw the article commend him for coming from nothing to graduating from a prestigious school and pursuing law. many people thought he was a revolutionary, demanding for progressively legislature despite only recently joining the board.

“oh my god.” you say.

“i don’t think you can say that.” mark said. the pair giggled again, but you were too caught up in looking at eunseok. he looked so different from the last time you saw him, but still the same. that was your eunseok. the one who giggled with you during confessionals. eunseok who stole extra crackers from communion because he could. the one who left you.

“i can’t believe it.” you say. the schedule has been completely forgotten. the iron resolve you had at church was broken in an instant. you could tell yeri and mark were shocked to see you show so much emotion.

“you must have been pretty close with him.” yeri says, grabbing back her phone.

“we were friends. like you two are.” you pull yourself out of your shocked state, trying to put on the same cold demeanor. you turn back to the group assignment, but every name you read looks like his.

“well you will probably be happy to hear that he’s coming to the church during tonight’s service,” mark said. he looked over your shoulder “are the schedules done yet?”

“what?” you can’t hold back the shock in your voice. your two youth group leaders laugh at your expense.

“the pastor is pretty hush hush about it. but i heard a rumor he’s coming to give a speech about donating something to the church.” yeri says.

mark grabs the group assignments off your desk and hands one to yeri. yeri audibly groans once she sees who she is assigned to. the pair leave quickly after getting their assignments, leaving you alone to your thoughts. eunseok had left the church for reasons unknown. you thought he would come back, the way poor sinners came back crawling in the rain, shaking their metal cup begging for an ounce of forgiveness. now he was coming back as someone who people would put on the altar next to god himself. did he even still pray? did he still remember the hymns that were drilled into their minds as kids? or did he truly forget it all to follow a life of fame and fortune? that wasn’t a lifestyle fit for a man of god.

you debate on leaving then and there. night service doesn’t start for another hour, and technically your duties for the day are done. you could slip out through any exit, and not come back until the next time you’re needed. eunseok would be long gone, and you could just hear about the rumors spread about his visit for the next six years. the thought of being in the same room as him made you sick, the same sick you felt seeing the gossiping sinners of the church stick their noses up at you.

with a power beyond your own, you feel yourself get up from your desk. you walk through the mostly empty offices, and head down the stairs. you try to be quiet, to not let the floorboards tell you their age underneath your feet. you can hear the low murmurs of men behind doors talking about things that have to be whispered. you’re sure they’re talking about the allocation of what you assume to be the heavy donation they��ll be receiving tonight. you can’t believe eunseok is becoming the very thing you hated. unfair donations, things that would be better off at any other organization instead being funneled into a failing church. it made you feel like a kid again, spying on the grownups trying to stay hidden. the only difference was that your previous partner in crime was the one you were hiding from.

you looked through the crack in the door and saw him. eunseok was wearing a suit not so different from what you remember him wearing six years ago. but he was different now, so different from the boy you grew up with. this eunseok had a more defined jawline, the baby fat from his cheeks was completely gone. he had a different hairstyle now too, one that made him look more mature. this eunseok towered over the men he spoke with. there was an aura now surrounding him now. he was already confident when you two had met, but now there was another layer to it. more depth. his boyish charm had turned into charisma of a handsome young man. you watched as he stood and listened to the men in robes bicker. so much had changed about eunseok but he still remained disinterested in anything pertaining to church.

you didn’t see eunseok speak until they brought up the lunch program.

“my donation is for the lunch program. i want all the funds to dedicated to the plan i emailed you before. you accepted the donation under the promise that the funds would be allocated there.” eunseok said. you figured the man with the briefcase and nice suit beside him was his lawyer. you leaned closer to the door, trying to gather everything.

apparently you were wrong about the donation. eunseok had plans to help the church expand who the lunch program would reach. instead of just a line inside the church, he wanted several stations in town near impoverished areas. he wanted to also expand the date and hours. you watched him explain his plan with an even head, but his hand flexing at his side told you he was getting frustrated.

when the conversation was over you had to quickly run away, flexing your feet so your presence wouldn’t be known. you don’t know how long you had stood there, but the night service was starting. you got caught in the flow of the crowd into the room that was much more packed than usual. mark and yeri left you a seat. you squeezed into the seat and picked at the hand fan that was passed around the room.

you were more nervous than you wanted to admit. you fidgeted and looked around for most of the service, waiting for eunseok to come out. you wished it would be over, each time the congregation stood your restless legs yelled at you to run.

when eunseok came out you stood still. mark had to nearly pull you down to sit after the hymn.

the pastor was speaking, but you couldn’t listen. all you could see was eunseok stand off to the side, hands in front of him as he listened. you wondered if he even remembered you, how surprised he would be that you were still here at the church you complained about everyday to him. then you thought about if he would even recognize you in the crowd of churchgoers. alot can happen in six years and you don’t doubt that eunseok has met his fair share of people. you think your face has blended into the mass of people sitting in the pews. you see his eyes look over the crowd, coming closer and closer to you. you prepare yourself to be filled with more disdain, more pain when he eventually looks over you.

when he sees you in the crowd, his eyes widen. you haven’t taken your eyes off him the whole time, wide and confused like he’s a mirage standing on the stage. you think he must have you confused, that he just paused in the crowd. his mouth opens in shock, the same shock you had seeing his name in the headlines.

“i think he recognizes you.” mark says, looking between you and eunseok.

you shush mark as the preacher continues to speak.

“so thank you to song eunseok, previous member of our parish for the generous donation.” the pastor says.

all around you people stood and clapped. you were amazed, seeing people that had spread rumors about eunseok cheer and clap for him now. as he bowed, people only clapped louder. the ones that called him stupid praised him for speaking to elegantly. when he thanked god, the ones that said he was a nonbeliever cheered the loudest. when eunseok got up from his bow, he kept his eye contact with you. it was a gaze of someone all knowing. he looked at you like he was trying to convey that it was all for show. eunseok was alot of things, and an entertainer was one of them. he was fit for the life of worship, a standing ovation suited him well. it made you sick how easily praise fell upon him, when you had worked so hard for this church just to be whispered about all day.

it was fanfare and fireworks for the next thirty minutes, everyone in the congregation practically tripping over themselves to get a picture with eunseok. handing him babies to kiss, asking for him to consider legislature that would benefit him. you noticed photographers trying their best to remain inconspicuous as they took photos. occasionally he would look to you and you had to look away. you wanted to avoid him all night, you don’t even know why you stayed. yeri and mark eventually made their way to him too, smiling in their group photo. you wanted to run away when you saw eunseok following behind mark and yeri.

“eunseok says he’s joining us for youth group tonight.” yeri says smiling.

when youth group split up you found yourself being short on handouts. eunseok’s appearance at the church brought in an influx of people, a number the church hasn’t seen in a long time. you were short on prayer pamphlets and eunseok volunteered to help you.

you tried to not be self conscious of the man behind you. you had walked through the church a million times before, but you felt yourself bump into walls you knew were there and turn the handles on locked doors. it was embarrassing having him follow you up the old and creaky outdated staircase. everything about you now felt so archaic. eunseok represented a time that was advanced past the chipping paint on the walls and the frayed robes the priests wore. it made your stomach churn thinking about how he didn’t remember where he came from. everywhere you turned there were people wanting a photo. you watched eunseok’s demeanor completely change to turn on some sort of charm. you didn’t say a word until you opened up your old desktop, printing out copies of papers from the dusty white printer.

“i didn’t expect to see you here.” eunseok said. you ignored him, only focusing on the sound of the old printer doing its best. you wish you could say you hated giving him the cold shoulder. being the one to deny him praise or acknowledgment felt like the justice you had been denied for the past six years.

“are you still mad at me? for leaving?” eunseok said. he moved from the door, coming to stand near your desk.

“i don’t care. you did what you did with your life eunseok.” you refuse to look at him as you speak.

you can hear his feet tap on the ground. being so cold is against your religious practices but you didn’t mind hell if it meant denying him heaven. you imagine someone like the eunseok that stood before you reveled in the attention good or bad. without any attention you think he would shrivel up like a plant without sun.

“i wanted to see you. but i couldn’t leave.” eunseok is standing beside you now. he crouches, look up at you trying to see your eyes. you focus your eyes so hard on the desktop that the typed words start to become blurry.

when he gets on his knees in front of you then look at him. your eyes are wide and shocked as he looks to you with genuine sadness. you are shocked to see eunseok look so lost. he has always been so sure of himself. the same person that projected confidence onstage was groveling at your feet.

“i know what you think of me.” he whispered.

the assumption of knowing you makes you bristle. if he knew you he would’ve never left you alone all those years ago.

“you don’t know anything.” you feel your years of being misunderstood bubble up to the surface. you spitting words quietly at eunseok is the only thing that keeps the anger at bay.

“i don’t know anything.” eunseok agrees with you. seeing him so easily give up makes you instantly regret your rage. your first instinct is to forgive him, to say sorry for being so cold. but then you think about the dust you brushed off your knee when you got up from the altar. you let out a sigh. nothing feels right anymore.

“you could’ve atleast called.” you say quietly.

“they wouldn’t let us have phones. i only recently got mine back.” eunseok says. he shuffles even closer to you, placing a kiss on your clothed knee. “the first thing i did with the money i’ve earned was to try and pay you back. to show you how sorry i am.”

having someone where eunseok was at in life look to you for forgiveness made you confused. after years of being denied autonomy, only becoming an extension of something else. when eunseok was here, you were an extension of him. when he left you became an extension of church, maybe even of god himself. but now you had eunseok kneel before you and talk to you as your own person. how did he not forget about you after all of that time. why did he rememberyou to the point that he made a donation to your church to apologize. you use your hand to tilt eunseok’s chin up. he finds your eyes, placing a hand over yours. you lean over to his shoulder.

“you’re pretty loved now. people treat you like a god. like you can change the world.” you say. eunseok nods his head. he agree with anything you said to him.

you looked down at eunseok, on his knees kissing your legs. he had lifted up your dress to get more access to your skin. after you get up from the chair you stand before eunseok. you think about the statue that hung above the altar the last timed you prayed. even though it’s been years since you looked to god for answers, you will never forget the desperation that rolled off of you in waves. it’s the same desperation that filled the room, the same desperation that filled eunseoks’ eyes. you felt like god now, extending a forgiving olive branch to someone who wronged you.

eunseok looks up to you from your feet. he had always been so much taller than you. now it seems like he had shrunk himself under your gaze.

“but whose altar do you bow to, eunseok? is it still gods’?” you ask.

eunseok looks at you deep in the eyes. it’s still the same eyes that left you alone all that time ago, the same eyes you thought about in the confines of your bed.

“i bow to his altar only to pray for your forgiveness. i feel devotion for you and you alone.” eunseok says.

“people call you a nonbeliever. is that true?” you ask.

“i believe in you. isn’t that enough?” eunseok says with a solemn expression on his face. he goes back to kissing your body. he lifts your dress higher and higher, exposing even more skin. he kisses up to your knee, lifting more of your dress. he looks to you one final time before you pinch the fabric of your dress. you lightly pull up your hands, exposing your mid thigh. he purposely puts the end of your dress in the palm of your hands, letting you control how much of your skin he gets to kiss.

he sucks and kisses on the exposed skin, working from your right calf up. when he gets to the highest part of your exposed body he works his way down the other leg. you stand in front of the powerful man. the same lips that will eventually address a nation kiss you timidly, like you are going to run away. the same hands that will write legislature pull you close. you slowly lean back until you’re sitting on the edge of your computer desk. you bring a leg up to prop it on the chair. eunseok looks to you as you bring the fabric of your dress to rest underneath your chin.

“i want to worship you,” eunseok looks up from a kiss placed on your thigh. his fingers enclose on the waistband of your panties. he looks to you for approval, for permission to go further. “i want to show you how regretful i am. how apologetic i feel.”

“then do it.” you say.

without missing a beat, eunseok pulls your panties down your legs. he’s delicate with the way he removes them, lifting you legs so you don’t have to do any of the work. eunseok crumbles the pair into his pants pocket. you don’t ask for it back, the image of him treating your undergarmets like a rosary, gripped in his hand while he tries to remember what gods touch felt like. he put large hand on the back of your thighs and lifts. you have a leg over his shoulder and the other still is in the chair. you lean back on your desk. you think about your body weight straining the old oak. if it breaks, you will just ask your loyal devotee to buy you a new one.

eunseok doesn’t take his eyes off of you, looking for visual cues on what to do next. he places sweet kisses on the area surrounding your heat. you lift your hips he brings an arm from your thigh to rest on your stomach, holding you in place. he doesn’t dare to tell you what to do, just hoping you will listen to his physical pleas for control.

he places a single kiss on your core. you ball the end of your dress and put it inside of your mouth to try and muffle any sounds you may make. eunseok goes back to placing kisses on your thigh. he grabs your hand and places it on his head. you immediately use your hand to hold his soft brown hair. eunseok kisses your heat. he keeps his lips there, continuing to give you chaste kisses. you try to keep your composure but fail when his tongue comes from between his lips. he takes a long stripe and you can feel his tongue inside of you. you moan into the fabric of your dress and bring him closer with your leg behind his back. you are acting on your own volition, using your heels and hand to bring him even closer to your core. with your spare hand you grab eunseok’s hand and squeeze. you feel an absence and look down at eunseok between your legs. he has slick covering his mouth as he looks at you wide eyed.

“can i ask for forgiveness?” eunseok smiles before placing a sweet kiss to your thigh.

“ask god.” your chest heaves with each word. you don’t know when you lost your breath, but each words comes out in rushed huffs.

“i am.” eunseok says before diving back in between your legs.

he’s more aggressive with you this time around. he uses the hand that was holding your stomach down to spread your folds. you keep looking at eunseok, and he pulls back to look you in the eyes again. he spits on your clit and you throw your head back in ecstasy. how can something so filthy feel so exhilarating. you can’t stop thinking about how this is a sin you would die on the cross for. eunseok puts his middle finger inside of you and sucks on your clit. you arch more and more into his mouth, holding his hair tightly. your muffled sounds get higher and higher as eunseok becomes more intense. you close your thighs around him but he doesn’t pull away. his tongue is coated in forgiveness as he bows into your altar. he takes everything, sucking and licking you until you come down from the heaven eunseok took you too.

mindlessly you pull eunseok up to you. he hesitates at first but obliges, letting you gather him into your arms. against your knee, you can feel his hardened length. you think about how you’re ignoring your duties as the one keeping your oratory going. you consider yourself to be a selfish god as you reach for the belt of eunseoks’ slacks.

his hands consume yours. you are forced to look up to him now, as he stands taller than your perch on the desk. his eyes are wide and show you conflicting emotions. he shouldn’t be scared to do what he wants in your home. you decide that you make the rules as you continue to undo his belt.

“you have my forgiveness and maybe a little more than that,” you say. eunseok’s eyes become hooded and his expression becomes hungry. “but now i need you to fuck me like you’re making up for lost time.”

eunseok lets you undo his belt. the unbuckling sound gives his desperation its wings as he goes back to your dress. he unzips the back of the dress and pulls it over your shoulders. it falls forward and you stay in your white lacy bra. you both decide you don’t have enough time to completely abandon your clothing. eunseok takes the lead on undressing himself, unzipping his pants and letting them fall to the ground. he comes back to you and rubs his clothed length against your knee. you moan and tilt your head to see him get lost in the pleasure. you bite your lip looking at him. you can feel him pulsing against you as he lets his head lean back. he’s sighing in relief and you wonder if things stress him out now, if he feels pressure to do well as a politician. you decide wordlessly to take on all his stress and hardship like a good god does. you reach for his briefs and unclothe him. eunseoks’ hard member bobs up and down before pointing straight towards you. it’s angry and red, the tip leaking with precum. eunseok moans from the cold air hitting him. you never took him as the sensitive type.

you reach for him and stroke him gently. eunseok has his eyes closed but finds your shoulder easily, holding onto you to ground himself. his head retreated into your neck as you gently jerked him off. he says something that sounds like a confession into your ear, talking about how he’s never felt this good in his life. how he has only thought about you in moments like these, no matter the circumstance.

“devotion looks pretty on you eunseok.” you whisper into his ear. you guide him to your entrance and eunseok looks between your bodies to see where you two meet.

eunseok kisses your neck as he slowly sinks into you. you tremble and suddenly six years of complicated feelings becomes incredibly simple. you lift you leg that was hanging over the desk to rest on the edge. this angle changes something in eunseok. he pulls away from the crook in your neck and places a confident hand on your bent knee. he doesn’t break eye contact as he pulls all the way out. eunseok’s gaze doesn’t falter when he puts it back in with a hard and fast thrust, one that makes everything on your desk shift. eunseok does it a second time and for a split second your resolve breaks. you only have a little bit of time to compose yourself when eunseok pulls out all the way again. when eunseok does it for the third time you falter, eyebrows contorting in pleasure. eunseok smiles.

“you feel that?” eunseok says.

before you can respond. he changes the pace after seeing you falter. he hips work in a steadfast motion. you can hear things shift out of place and fall off your desk. the floorboard creak from the commotion and your boobs jump in your bra. you have to lean forward and grab eunseok for stability. he hooks his arms underneath your legs pulling you closer to him. the new angle has you whimpering and you can see eunseok’s dress shirt becoming wrinkled under your grip. your whimpers become high pitched and whiny when you hear eunseok’s grunts from above you. everything feels so surreal you forget that you truly are human. you can’t make the pleasure last forever, you must go through the same ups and downs as the rest of humanity. you grip onto eunseok harder and bring him down so you can kiss him. you want to bask in whatever high you are about to feel so you can remember it next time you bow at the altar. eunseok pulls away and quickly pushes things off the desk. he lays you down and puts your ankles behind his head, placing an arm over your thighs to keep your legs straight. this angle has you feeling him drag against your walls and you can feel him hitting a spot deep inside of you. this position makes it easier for eunseok to flick your clit. you shake around him and you can hear the slapping of your skin against his.

“i’m a saint. i want my god to cum first.” eunseok says smiling.

you can barely breathe as the orgasm rakes through your body. you put a hand on his arm that holds your legs and he abandons holding your legs to grip your hand. your legs become loose and eunseok bends them to kiss your face. you can barely focus on kissing him back, too busy trying to make gain control of your senses. everything is flooded with white and gold and sky blue. eunseok becomes rushed and sloppy making your pulsing erratic. you a new wave of pleasure hits you as eunseok throbs inside of you. you can feel years of lost time fill you to the brim and he slumps against you. things on your desk finally still and you breathe out heavily, finally regaining your composure. you can feel eunseok slide out of you and you let your legs dangle over the edge of the desk.

when he settles on your chest you pet his hair, trying to smooth out the strands that stick out in random places. he listens to your heartbeat, you listen to his deep breaths.

it feels like ages before you move from underneath eunseok. you had forgotten how big he is and how comforting it always was being in close proximity to him. eunseok gets off of you and guides you off the desk. you pull your dress back over your bra and eunseok puts on his clothes. as you grab papers from the printer eunseok brushes out your dress to help you look put together again. you return the favor, smoothing down his disheveled hair. you hand him his belt and you fix his crooked vote pin that resides on his lapel. you both do this in silence, working in collaboration to hide your secret church service.

as you fix his cuffs, you can feel his burning gaze. you don’t know why now you feel nervous.

“do you still remember the secret exit we’d take when sneaking out of youth group?” eunseok asks. when you finish with his cuffs you look at him and smile.

“yes. do you?” you ask.

he smile and nods.

“how could i forget?”

sacrilegious masterlist

#01zfan: eunseok #seriez: sacrilegious #eunseok smut #riize smut

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teatoptony · 3 months

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The Same Boat

ask; hi sorry if this is too much detail but a request for reader the same age as Luke and joins the camp at around 16-17 but they had a really nice life before joining camp half blood and really hates the camp because she deeply misses her friends and boyfriends and girlfriends, and it takes place when she’s first joining and she points out to Luke how terrible the system is and they bond over being really angry about the gods. thank u!!!

pairing(s); luke castellan x gn!reader (romantic or platonic, not exactly specified but leaning more towards platonic)

warning(s); daddy issues ig

a/n; i changed the story a lil bit so that the reader didn’t just get to camp, but got there a little bit ago and was given a quest which ended a lil bit before the fic starts, hope u don’t mind. pre-lightning thief. i had ares in mind as reader’s gp but it’s not specified, i did refer to them as a dad and their mortal parent as a mom though

it’s been a while since i’ve read the books and i personally never got the luke hype so sorry if it’s a little ooc, also a bit short. had book luke in mind while writing but could be read for book or series luke ig if you ignore minor physical descriptions

art credits(left to right); velinxi, velinxi, frostbite studios

You had never known who your godly parent was.

You’d always assumed it was one of the minor gods, since the satyr assigned to your school hadn’t sought you out until you were old enough to drive. Either that or you just weren’t ‘gifted’ enough to garner much attention. You didn't know which you preferred.

In a way, it didn’t really matter. No one claimed you anyway, so you spent the first couple weeks of your stay at Camp Half-Blood — a very inconspicuous name, by the way — in cabin eleven, the Hermes Cabin.

It was a rough adjustment. You were resentful of this new world; a world of gods and monsters and magic and so many weird stories that made it hard to keep track of every twist and turn and easy to offend whichever god whose myths or name you got confused. You felt like someone was watching you at all times. Or would it be the opposite, since your godly parent clearly didn’t care enough to claim you as their own?

It didn’t help much when you were assigned a quest, either. Or rather, one of your friends were.

Austin Lake, a child of Apollo, was tasked to retrieve his father’s lyre from a forest — not just any forest, no, the Grove of Demeter. Or at least, a recreation of it, anyway. According to Austin, Demeter had banned his father from ever entering the Grove again when he’d had a little too much ‘fun’ with one of the wood nymphs there, so he needed his son to go fetch his lost toy.

Bit derogatory, you thought. We’ve been reduced to well-trained dogs.

Still, you tagged along.

There were a couple hiccups along the way, which you were told were par for the course by Chiron, who welcomed you back rather dismissively once you returned. Normally, you would’ve been offended. I mean, you get back from a not-so-semi life threatening outing, and all you get is a halfhearted pat on the back? Honestly.

But you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care. Not today.

You sat on the hillside as you watched the sunset. Wind carried the sweet scent of ripe strawberries from the fields along with the smell of dirt and other greenery as the grass beneath you swayed in the breeze. The blades tickled your skin as you basked in the calm silence of everything — something fairly unusual for this place, as far as you could tell from your stay so far.

You, however, did not feel calm. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your feelings toward the world of Greek mythology hadn’t been good in the first place, to say the least; you’d had to practically abandon any and all traces of your life back home in order to get here since you’d been discovered so late. You missed your friends (whom you assumed would be worried sick by now, since cell service was pretty much nonexistent here and you’d only been able to contact a few of them via post), and you missed the taste of actual junk food that came from cans and bags. You even missed school, as boring and hellish as it was. At least it offered a sense of normalcy that you so desperately needed right about now.

“Room for one more?” A voice asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Luke standing beside the pine on top of the hill, a Coca Cola in either hand. There was a small smile on his lips as he said, “I brought drinks.”

You smiled back at him, mostly out of courtesy but also at his offer. It was as if he'd read your mind. “Sure, if you want.”

Luke strolled down to sit beside you, handing you one of the fizzy drinks and popping his own. The can was pleasantly cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the harsh sunlight hitting your skin. “Thanks.” You muttered, taking the soda with a grateful look.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “We keep a secret stash of six-packs in the kitchen for special occasions. The harpies are pretty easy to bribe.”

Silence settled between the two of you as you sipped on your drinks. You stared straight ahead as you did before, but now you caught glimpses of Luke’s sandy blond hair out of the corner of your eye.

It was… awkward.

Luke had always been a bit of a mystery for you. Sure, you saw him as a friendly guy, and he had been nice to you ever since your first day here, but you noticed little details the younger or happier campers didn’t.

He never really liked talking about his father, Hermes, despite having been claimed almost as soon as he got to Camp. Okay, maybe that was fair, since he had to deal with loads of hopeful, undetermined campers asking him when they would be claimed, too.

‘Oh, I was claimed the minute I got here. But since your godly parent didn’t claim you yet, I guess they just don’t care about you.’

Yeah, not a great thing to tell a twelve-year-old.

Luke was also pretty closed off in general. He was an easy guy to make friends with, sure. But other than surface-level stuff like what color he likes or which Camp activities were his favorite, only one or two people knew much of anything about his personal life. Which was to say, his life before coming here, since it’d be pretty hard to have a ‘personal life’ when you lived in cabin eleven year-round.

You remembered the night before you took off for the quest. Luke’s face illuminated by flames as he burnt his nightly offerings with the rest of the camp, his expression one you could still clearly picture. A mellow bitterness — something kept suppressed for years, stacking and stacking and never getting cleaned out, building like dust and cobwebs on top of an old dresser. It was a face you assumed you'd wear eventually, too.

And that wasn’t even mentioning all the time he spent in the arena. His swordsmanship was the definition of textbook when he was training other campers, but it was a whole different story if you happened to stumble across him practicing on dummies in his spare time. His swings were quick and precise, as usual. However, there was an almost brutal quality to him as he maimed the dummy, slashing it as if it'd slaughtered his entire family.

Not that it would be that weird if the dummy had actually murdered them, Greek mythology and all.

Anyway.

“So...” Luke started. Then he must've realized he didn't really know what to say. He stared straight ahead and tapped his finger on his knee.

“So...” You repeated. You could tell he had something to say to you, he just didn't know the best way to go about it. After all, who would waste contraband on someone they didn't really know if it wasn't to sweeten them up before asking a favor? “..Did you need something?”

Luke opened his mouth, but hesitated before saying anything. “Actually.. yeah.”

See? No one's that nice.

“I kinda heard what happened,” He continued. You picked at the tab of your can, avoiding eye contact. Of course he knew. Something like that can't exactly stay a secret for long in a place like this. “I overheard Austin talking to Chiron about it?”

Well, fuck him then.

“He mentioned you wanna keep it on the down-low, so, your secret's safe with me.” He quickly added, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Oh, um...” You didn't really know what to say to that. It was bound to get out eventually, so it was the sentiment that mattered, you guessed. “Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” He nodded. “It was supposed to be a secret anyway, right?”

“I guess.”

“...It's bound to get out eventually though.”

You sighed. There was no actual hope with keeping this a secret, after all. The best you could do was a 'everyone knows about it but we don't talk about it' secret.

“I know, don't remind me.” You muttered. “I mean, it'd be hard to hide moving to a different cabin, wouldn't it?”

Luke chuckled. “I can't speak from personal experience, but yeah, probably.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You felt like pulling your hair out. “How much do you know?”

“Not that much,” he shrugged. You didn't need to look at him to know he was lying, you had a pretty good track record of telling when someone was. “Just that you got claimed, and you're not happy about it.”

“How could I be happy about it?” You burst out, straightening your back as you whipped your head up. Your hands spread out in front of you and your heels dug into the ground beneath them. “I never wanted this life! What, I’m supposed to be grateful that my deadbeat dad finally showed up? That he finally ‘claimed’ me? What is there to be grateful for? That isn’t even the bare fucking minimum of being a parent!”

Luke tensed. You didn’t blame him. The gods were always listening, somehow omnipresent but not enough to be there for their own kids. Fucking ridiculous.

Against your better judgement, your rant continued, spilling out of your mouth like word vomit.

“It's not like I expect him to be there for every step of my life, but would it have killed him to show his face, willingly, just once? My mom works three jobs just to keep a place for the two of us to stay! What, he couldn't send child support every now and then? He's a fucking god! What good is being a god if you aren't there for the people you're supposed to be taking responsibility for?”

“Yeah, I hear that.”

You scoffed. “Sure you do.”

“I'm serious.” Luke defended, putting his can down on the ground. “I've only met my dad once, and even for a god he was kinda shitty.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, fine. He was completely shitty.” Luke admitted. With a bit of hesitation, he elaborated further, fidgeting with a blade of grass.

“Before I came to Camp, I was on the run.” He said, a faraway look in his eyes, almost as if he were talking about a different lifetime. “It was me, Annabeth and Thalia.”

“Thalia as in..?”

“Yeah,” he said, a bitter smile on his lips as he glanced back at the tall pine tree that stood at the top of the hill. “That's her.”

You bit your lip as you stared at the pine. Now that you knew there was a story behind it, your mind played tricks on you. The branches were suddenly outstretched arms, the leaves spiky hair and you could have sworn you could make out the shape of a face in the pattern of the bark.

“This one time, Thalia was hurt, and we needed a place to stay for a bit. Since we were desperate and not really thinking straight, we went to my mom's place.” He sighed. “When we got there... I met him.”

Luke took a deep breath, his eyebrows furrowing as if just thinking about that moment physically hurt. “I'd known what I was for a while. Prayed to my dad a couple times, too, but he never got back to me. When I met him at that house, I asked him for help. I knew we wouldn't be safe at mom's. I asked him for guidance... and he said no.”

You nodded along with his words. The sun was beginning to set now, a light chill in the air. The sky was a golden orange, which bathed everything out of the shadows in a yellow light. Luke's eyes looked almost the same color as the light reflected off of them.

“If he'd just told us where to go then and there, if he told us about this place...” He trailed off. He clenched his jaw before drinking the last of his coke and flattening the can. “Thalia would still be alive. Living. She wouldn't be...”

Silence settled between the two of you again. Luke didn't want to talk about it any longer, and, as curious as you were, you didn't want to pry. But it was less awkward this time around, a mutual understanding connecting you both.

“Kind of a dick move.” You remarked quietly. To your surprise, Luke laughed.

“Kind of?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Nah, total dick move.” You corrected yourself. You gave him a small smile. “Both our dads are jerks. Guess it runs in the family.”

“That's one thing.”

“Yeah? What’s the other?”

Luke shook his head, the corner of his lip tilting up into a half smile. “Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

You rolled your eyes. “Lame.”

The sky was turning purple now, a vibrant shade that leaned mire towards red than blue. Though soon it would be the other way around, and the harpies would come out to scare any campers who were out past curfew. You’d heard rumors that Mr.D allowed them to eat the strays sometimes, but you doubted they were true. Travis and Connor were still alive, after all. Though maybe they’d just never been caught.

Your run in with your father played on repeat in your head, each loop accentuating one horrible thing about it or the other. You fidgeted with the grass, ripping a few blades out of the ground. You bit your lip. Should you tell him about it? It would probably be good to get it off your chest. Plus, Luke actually understood how much this shit sucked.

“…You know what he said to me? When he saw me?” You finally muttered, deciding to trust him, just a bit. “He didn’t even recognize me, but I knew. The second I saw him, it was like something clicked. It took him a while, but when he made the same connection… He said, ‘shoot.’”

You laughed humorlessly. “‘Shoot.’ Like I was some piece of homework he forgot to do, and not his kid he abandoned before I was even born. I wanted to strangle him, I swear, but…”

You trailed off. You didn’t want to admit it, but your father was terrifying.

‘Watch the attitude.’ He had said, his hulking form growing until he was almost level with the trees surrounding him. ‘I don’t take disrespect, especially not from my own kids.’

I’m not your kid, you now thought, biting the inside of your cheek. He had never been a dad to you. As far as you were concerned, you didn’t have a father.

“I wished he were gone.”

…

You felt Luke’s gaze on the side of your head, practically boring holes into your skull. You glanced at him. Maybe you shouldn’t have told—

“You didn’t deserve that.” Luke suddenly said, a fire behind his words you’d never heard before. “None of us do.”

He stopped for a moment, his jaw clenched. Taking a deep breath, he turns his body towards you, facing you completely. There was no mistaking it now; there was gold swirling behind his blue irises.

“I have a proposition you might wanna hear.”

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #pjo imagine #percy jackson imagine #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #pjo x reader #pjo #pjoverse #percy jackon and the olympians

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thelov3lybookworm · 3 months

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Little Fawn

Summary: Y/n faces the consequences of ignoring her grangran's advice.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: here's something short for all my lulu girlies ❣️

(also thank you @clairebear08 and @berryzxx for helping with lulu's perfume eheheh 🤭)

Anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Do not leave the home at night or walk the streets alone at night. Especially in the middle of the night.

That's what everyone said, including Y/n's own grandmother, who had taken her in after her parents death when she was only a child.

They had been killed by the very being Y/n had always been warned against.

Vampires.

Even thinking about them sent a chill down Y/n's body.

She hurried her pace, pulling her coat tighter around herself, keeping her eyes downwards, glaring at the worn and chipped cobblestones under her feet as if they had caused her a personal offence.

She was already in a bad mood because of her friend, who had forced her to stay long after she was supposed o have returned.

Y/n worked in a local restaurant as a chef. Creating intricate art in food from raw materials brought her immense joy.

That was one of the things Y/n had inherited from her mother. Both of them had loved cooking, and always gave their best into whatever they created.

Y/n paused at the mouth of an alleyway, considering her options. She could either take the long but used route, where she could see that people were mingling on, or take the shortcut, which right now, looked abandoned.

Y/n knew her grandmother always yelled at her to not come home late at nights, and if she had to, to not take the road where not many treading.

But...

Who was going to tell Y/n grandmother?

Y/n turned on her heel, speeding her pace as she started up the lightly inclined alley.

Completely missing the sign that said read-

Body found. Do not tread. Supernatural presence suspected.

•○🌑○•

The alleyway was usually was filled with people and bustling crowd, eager to get wherever they were going to. At the very least, it would still be filled with the chatter from the nearby homes and restaurants.

But tonight, it felt eerily... quiet.

It was so silent Y/n could practically hear the breathing of the earthworm six feet underground.

I need to stop exaggerating so much. Y/n thought to herself as she walked briskly down the street. She had already covered half the distance now, just half more and then she would be home, safe and sound.

Y/n started to think about the book that she had been reading about food and wondering about how she could help her restaurant grow when the sound of a metal scraping against the ground came from behind her, making her stop in her tracks, every part of her body freezing.

Silence, thicker than her brother's thick skull descended over the area, and a shiver wound its way up Y/n's spine. She willed her legs to move, to take her back home, but it seemed like they had developed a mind of their own. They did not move, even as every pore and cell in Y/n's body screamed at her to run.

It was either that, or there was an abomination staring at her.

Y/n knew it could be the other option, but she always liked to think of herself as an optimist, and so, she just hoped that her brain was toying with her.

Even as all the signs pointed to it being otherwise.

The scuff of a boot sounded behind Y/n, letting her know that she was not alone. The scent of a sweet musk mixed with undertones that reminded her of fall surrounded Y/n until she was drowning in it.

Good thing, right?

No.

She felt their presence just as the person was right behind her, their breath fanning over Y/n's neck. Y/n suppressed a shiver, trying to lean away.

No matter how positive a person, right now, all positiveness in Y/n went right out her ass.

A vampire was breathing down her neck. And Y/n did not know what to do.

She also did not have the small device that her grandmother had brought her on her, having considered it an unnecessary weight.

Oh how she condemned herself right now.

Y/n tried to lift her hand, finding it very easy to do so. Experimentally, she lifted her leg, and she could... move.

But now she did not want to, knowing it would do her no help but get her killed faster.

I should have told grangran that I love her.

That was all Y/n could think of as she turned, slowly.

Her eyes met gold and russet, the brutal and cruel scar drawing her gaze. The high cheekbones, the ethereal beauty did not really register, because Y/n was too busy wondering how those fiery strands of hair would feel between her fingers.

"Hello fawn." The deep voice of the man- vampire- shot right to Y/n's heart and flowed though her bloodstream.

Y/n began to look towards his eyes, then stopped herself as her grandmother's sayings swirled around her mind.

Whatever you do, never meet eyes with a vampire. It's like giving them invitation to bite.

So Y/n focused on the red locket that hung from his neck, staring at the thing intensely as she finally faced him fully.

She felt him smile. "Hmm. Interesting. You know not to make eye contact." He laughed a little. "I wonder who taught you that. Knowing how secretive the information is, you should not have known it."

Y/n's blood turned to ice.

What is he talking about?

He chuckled again when Y/n ignored him. "Oh fawn, you are so adorable." She glanced up at that, even as she tried not to. It was like someone was forcing and controlling her.

She still did not look into his eyes, so she was proud of herself for that.

She watched his lips curve into a sadistic smirk, and light glinted off of something sharp as he ran his tongue over it.

His canines.

Y/n sucked in a sharp breath, hey eyes flying to his.

She realised her mistake then, her eyes going wide.

"No..." She whispered, unable to look away from his eyes as she took a step back. Those beautiful fucking eyes.

His smile grew wider, delight rolling off of him.

"Oh my fawn. Don't be scared." His smile said something completely different, something akin to run.

Y/n watched him advance, continuing to retreat. The cruelty on his face made her blood chill but boil at the same time.

She jolted when she realised she... liked that look. Like he was going to rip her apart but at the same time let her light up the world in flames as he stood by, cleaning his nails.

She liked that knowing that, and it was so utterly wrong.

And, oddly enough, Y/n wasn't complaining.

He stepped closer, his eyes shining.

"I will take good care of you my fawn."

One second, he was standing a little distance away, the next, he was standing toe to toe with her.

And the next, his teeth sunk into flesh like hot knife on butter.

•○🌑○•

General Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe

Lucien Taglist: @mirandasidefics @fell-in-luvs

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

Text

kxuke - part 2

kxuke [ˈk’u.kɛ] adj. safe

Request from @myrealmstuff: Part 2 for Kxuke please, it's so beautiful.

Request from @hyunjinoak: Can I request Neteyam x reader story where the reader is pregnant and going through a really tough pregnancy complications and Neteyam is helping it? Nnd when the reader has difficult delivery (heavy bleeding / too long contraction or something like that) Neteyam helps reader and in the end have a healthy baby?

Part 1 [Summary: A Marine avatar, part of Quartich's team, is held captive by the Sullys. She is tough but damaged from an abusive upbringing on earth. Slowly, she and Neteyam fall for each other, and she is granted new life in her avatar body by Eywa. Neteyam's family is not pleased, but Neteyam asks her to be his mate. You should probably read Part 1 before reading Part 2.]

TW: blood, pregnancy

Watching the last remaining ship leave is surreal for me. Everyone I knew in my previous life now gone, suspended in sleep for six years, back to the planet I once called home.

It doesn't feel like home now, when I think it about it. It sort of feels like a nightmare; the abuse I suffered at the hands of my parents, multiple partners; the relief I felt when joining the marines, only to realize I had become the oppressor and abuser.

Never once have I regretted my decision to turn my back on my people. Maybe I should... but they never did a damn thing for me but use and abuse me, my entire life.

Though my new family was hard-won, they have never hurt me, or yelled at me, or made me feel little and stupid.

Tuk and Kiri were the quickest to accept me, with Lo'ak soon after. Then came Jake, because as it turned out, we had quite a lot in common. Rough upbringing. Marine background. Abandoning our race for a new one. You don't often meet other people in that situation. Our mutual understanding turned to friendship, and then a familial like relationship.

Neytiri was the hardest, but it was her mother's heart that got her in the end. It just came out, on a hunt, a story about my own mother, and something she'd done to me when I was barely out of diapers.

Something in Neytiri changed towards me in that moment, and she held me in her arms as I cried, and told me she would try to be a better mother to me.

Now I stand with my family, my mate Neteyam, and I place my hand over my swollen stomach as the cheering erupts around me at the joy and relief everyone feels. The baby is kicking again; he must be able to feel my happiness.

We are finally free.

The pregnancy has not been easy on me. I try every day to feel joyful about the new life I'm bringing into the world, and grateful to be staring my own family with Neteyam, but I am so tired, all of the time.

The simplest tasks have become exhausting, especially as the pregnancy has gotten to its final stages. Tsahik tells me I need to rest, and that she thinks the birth will be difficult... so that's something to look forward to.

Neteyam practically carries me in his arms everywhere we go, and dotes on me so aggressively that it sends me to tears at least three times a day.

Everything makes me cry. Neytiri tells me it's normal, but it feels embarrassing nonetheless. I burst into tears when Tuk squeezes my hand as we walk, or when I see another mother with a small child, and nearly every time Neteyam does anything nice for me.

Which is almost constantly. Neteyam is thoughtful, caring, and constantly going the extra mile to make me comfortable. I thought I loved him before, but I know now that every day, I will love him a little bit more - even when it feels like I couldn't possibly love him more, he does something so small but so meaningful, like bringing me home a flower for my hair, and my love for him explodes.

Just a few short weeks after the humans have returned to earth, I wake up in a searing hot pain, all around my abdomen, and shooting through my lower back.

"Oh my god!" I scream in English. "Neteyam! Something's wrong! Or, it's happening, maybe!"

Neteyam leaps up next to me, squatting beside me, grabbing my arm to support me.

"Happening?" he asks, also in English. It's so hard to speak in a second language when I'm in so much pain, even if I would consider myself fluent.

"Get Tsahik. And your mom!" I holler, but there are already footsteps approaching.

"I am here!" Neytiri says, running through the door. I guess that's a benefit to having your in-laws just steps away. "Jake is bringing Ronal. What do you feel?"

"Pain," I reply, switching back to Na'vi. "Here, and here," I gesture all around my waist, and my back.

Neytiri tsks. "Bah, back labor. It will be painful. Ronal will bring medicine to help."

I lean onto Neteyam, wondering what the Na'vi equivalent of an epidural is.

It is not until two days later that I hold my son in my arms. Looking into his eyes here, the pain of the past hours is already fading away in my mind.

The screaming, the blood, the pushing and tearing; the throbbing pain I feel even now... it doesn't matter.

He is beautiful. Four fingers like Neteyam, eyebrows like me, and his hair seems to almost have a reddish shine to it, but it could just be the sunrise. His cheeks are round and when he opens his eyes, they're a beautiful amber color. He has been attached to my breast since the moment he came into the world, but now, he is sleeping peacefully. Ronal has sewn me up and left medicine behind for me to take, and Neteyam's family waits outside until they're given the go-ahead to come in. Only Neytiri has met her grandson; I demanded she be there for the entire birth, and she did not leave my side.

It was the first time in my life that I truly felt a mother's love.

"Take him, Neteyam," I say. "Hold your son."

There are tears in his eyes as he reaches out and takes the swaddled baby.

"Remove his blanket, put him right on your chest. It's good for them, to be skin to skin." I don't know how much of my limited earth knowledge of babies will apply here, but surely that's correct.

"He's so beautiful, and warm," Neteyam says, holding his naked son to his chest. I lay the blanket over him, and Neteyam strokes his tiny back. "I love him so much. I love you so much." He looks at me, the tears falling freely now for both of us.

"You saved my life, Neteyam. I never imagined I would have any of this. I am so grateful to you."

Neteyam leans over gently, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. "Thank you for this gift, Y/N. You are my treasure."

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar 2 #avatar twow #daddy neteyam

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violettduchess · 1 year

Note

hi there talented writer. I would love to request headcanons (3 or 4?) for the princes and them doing something with a small child (their son or daughter)

I'd love for it to be Leon, Luke, Gilbert, Silvio or Chevalier but I will leave the choices up to you!

Thank you!!!

A/N: Alright anon....here you go!! Sorry this took so long! I did them all 😉

Word Count: 1878

Leon

She has his hair. Wild locks the color of dark walnut that spill down her small back in a wavy cascade. You braid it every morning but by the end of the day, it has escaped its braided prison and curls with abandon. And so it is up to you or Leon to tame the wild beast with the best weaponry you have: a silver hairbrush and a dollop of oil.

It's his turn tonight. You walk into your bedroom, the night's book selection in hand, to find them on the bed. She sits cross-legged in front of him, telling a very detailed story about an adventurous ladybug she found crawling on the window of her room. Leon is carefully brushing her hair, fingers gentle as he works the brush through her dark tresses.

You pause, watching them. Her small hands gesture to punctuate her story, a perfect imitation of her father. He listens, nodding intently even though she can't see him. Her story is taken seriously and you love him so much for it.

He sets down the hair brush, running his hand over the soft fall of her hair. Knowing they are done, she spins around with the type of energy only young children can have, throwing her short arms around his neck. He embraces her, hugging her tightly before pressing a kiss on her dimpled cheek. She giggles and so he does it again, growling like a lion.

Her laughter fills the bedroom, bright and clear as wind chimes. "Papa!" Her voice is bubbly with glee. He kisses her and tickles her and she howls with joy. He tosses her onto the bed, still growling playfully, continuing his loving onslaught.

As she wiggles and giggles at her lion Papa, you sigh through your smile. Her hair is getting tangled and he'll have to brush it again.

Somehow you know neither of them will mind.

Luke

Your son, with his shock of bright red hair and wide green eyes, is the spitting image of his father. He has inherited Luke’s gentle nature, his easy-going smile and not surprisingly, his love for honey. You set the freshly baked bread down onto the kitchen table, watching the way two sets of moss green eyes light up with anticipation.

Setting a generous slice of thick, dark bread down on his plate, you push the honey jar toward your little guy. Enthusiasm fills him as he reaches for the prized jar and the little metal spoon nestled in it, when Luke’s large hand covers his gently.

“Let’s do this together, ok? Just like last time.” His son nods and with Luke’s help, carefully scoops out a spoonful of honey and then plops it onto his bread. His gaze darts to you and you nod approvingly, rewarded with a cherubic smile. Luke hands him the smaller, child-sized butter knife. “Like we practiced," he reminds his son gently.

The little boy nods, taking the knife and then very, very carefully begins spreading the honey across his bread. Luke watches, reaching out to help him with the rounded corners, words of encouragement and praise murmured whenever he lets go. The knife at times digs into the bread. Sometimes the honey is spread right off of it. But the bright light of pride shines in your son's eyes as he looks up, challenge conquered. “I did it!”

Luke smiles, pride mirrored in his expression as he nods, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s head with a large hand. “You certainly did. Now let’s eat!”

Gilbert

“Papa! Ich brauche Hilfe!” (Papa, I need help!) She races across the thick carpeting of your bedroom, dark hair flying behind her like a wayward banner. Gilbert has just finished pulling on his black leather boots, readying himself for a family excursion while you rifle through your drawers looking for a scarf.

“Slow down, Mäuschen,” he says gently, an undercurrent of laughter discernible to you in his words. He kneels with a grin as she skids to a stop in front of him, catching her breath long enough to point at her coat. It’s made of rich black wool with large, round, gold buttons, a perfect size for her little hands. “I need help. It’s not working!” She is a perfect, flustered combination of eager to get outside and frustrated that she needs to ask him for help.

“First of all,” he says, reaching for her hands. “It’s much easier to close the buttons if you are not wearing these.” He carefully pulls on the tips of her small black leather gloves, removing them from both hands and laying them on the edge of the bed. “Now, try again.” At first she looks at the gloves in dismay and you know from experience how proud she is of them and how long it probably took her to get them on. But she blinks her bright ruby-colored eyes and turns her attention back to the coat. Reaching up, she takes hold of one shiny button and holds the flap of the coat with the other hand. Several attempts later, the button isn’t through and she looks up, brow furrowed in annoyance. “It’s still not working.”

Gilbert reaches out, straightening her coat. “Try again. I’ll hold it still for you.” He keeps hold of the bottom of her coat, pulling so the material is now stiffer, less bendable. Again she takes the button between her small fingers….and this time slides it right through the buttonhole. She doesn’t celebrate yet. The job isn’t done. Determination shadows her young face as she does the same for the entire row of gold buttons. It’s only when the last one slides into place that she looks up with a smile ablaze with pride. “Geschafft!” (Done!)

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the cool skin of her round cheek. “Toll gemacht, Mäuschen.” (Well done, little mouse) He stands, a loving hand lingering on her shoulder as she happily grabs her gloves and begins the process of pulling them on. His gaze finds yours, his smile warm with happiness. This could take a while.

Silvio

Your son is sitting outside on the terrace, the cobalt blue-tiled floor warm from the sun's rays. In front of him are several pots of paint which he is enthusiastically dipping his chubby fingers into before smearing them across the pages of white paper. You're sitting on the wicker chair nearby, one eye on him and one on the book you are reading.

This is the peaceful scene Silvio comes upon after returning from a meeting in the city. The familiar jangling noise of his clothing and jewelry alerts you both to his presence. Your son leaps up in a hurry, excitement thrumming through his body.

"Papa!" Silvio catches his colorful little hands by the wrists, a wry smile on his face. “Ah topolino, what happened to these?” He makes the little boy's hands wiggle back and forth to an eruption of giggles. “I’m painting, Papa. Come, paint with me!” Silvio releases his son who scurries back to his art. The child glances over his shoulder, eyes as bright as the sea in summer. “Papa?”

Silvio slides off the light, white coat he is wearing and then comes to where you are reading. He pretends to seriously inspect his son’s paintings as he slowly removes the golden rings from his fingers, one by one. You reach up, taking them from him and he flashes you a grin. “Keep a good eye on my treasure, tesoro.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the bad word play but you cannot resist the smile that curves your lips as Silvio lowers his long body onto the tiles, leaning close to the boy with hair pale as dolomite and eyes blue as summer skies. “Now maestro, tell me, where do we need to paint?”

Chevalier

Together they stand in front of the white bookshelf in her room, the one with pink painted roses climbing up the sides. He holds her small hand in his as they consider the many, many books she has managed to collect thus far in her rather short lifetime. His pale head nods towards a dark blue book with gold lettering. “We’ve only read this particular story twice.” She turns, her long pale braids swinging as she shakes her head. Her small fingers wiggle, adjusting her grip on him. “That story is about pirates and we read the story about mermaids yesterday. I would rather not have another nautical adventure.”

His inflection is echoed in her young voice, his influence in her vocabulary. He nods, eyes scanning the shelves for another, more suitable choice. “Perhaps the desert instead of the sea.” He taps a finger against a beige book with the title in darkest brown along the spine. Her head tilts to one side, brow furrowed in consideration. “Whenever we read this story and it talks about how hot the desert is, it makes me thirsty and I’ve already had-” She glances over her shoulder at where you are laying out her clothes for the next day. “How many glasses of water did I have at dinner, Mama?”

“Three,” you answer as you lay a pale blue sweater over the sunflower yellow dress you’ve chosen. She turns back to her father. “I’ve already had three.” He tears his gaze away from the bookshelf, regarding her with a shadow of a smile on his lips. “That is very pragmatic of you.” She nods solemnly, squeezing his hand before examining her books once again. Her eyes light upon a book bound in deep green leather, embossed with a tall tower made of gold. “This one!” She slips her hand from him to take the book off the shelf. Though excited, she is careful. Books are treasures and her collection is more pristine than some libraries. Chevalier looks down at her choice and you see how his expression softens. “You’ve made this selection twelve times in three weeks.”

“I like how you say all the new words!” The book is a story of a princess who travels the world and learns how to say hello in a multitude of languages, all of which Chevalier can speak. She takes his hand in hers again, the book cradled against her chest as she leads him to the large, velvet armchair, the one whose pink perfectly matches the dusty roses adorning her bookshelf. He settles into the chair and she climbs onto his lap, scooting back until she is comfortable. Reaching around her, his arms encircling her, he holds the book upright. “Shall we begin?” She nestles against his chest, azure eyes already eagerly on the book. “Yes, Papa!”

A split second is all it is. Just a breath of time before he opens the book, but in that space the length of a heartbeat, you see how Chevalier allows the moment in: his daughter curled up on his lap, safe in the soft, warm light of her room, eyes bright with excitement as she waits for the magic of a book to begin, for her father to create that magic for her. His expression is the tenderness the dawn has for the sky, love painted in soft hues across his noble features. And then he clears his throat, opening the book to her delighted, already sleepy smile, and begins.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri leon #leon dompteur #ikepri luke #luke randolph #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci #ikepri chevalier #chevalier michel #ikemen headcanons #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfic #otome games #violettwrites

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yanyanobsessed · 6 days

Text

continuing on my yandere vampire fics from a while ago.. I figured the best way to expand on it would be to go back to the beginning.

Note: Theres a lot of worldbuilding here lol, Probably my heaviest work yet, contentwise (not in a dark sense, this post is just hefty when it comes to her word count)

Grace Addams (she/her)

Yandere type: Worshipper, obsessive

Grace was adopted quite young, raised by a wealthy couple with her every need met and accounted for by leaps and bounds. Anything she wanted, her dads did their best to accommodate- which thankfully was relatively easy for them, given that they were in no short supply of funds.

As a child, Grace was very quiet for the most part- almost too quiet, save for the occasions where she was left hungry or with a stomach ache, in the time prior to her vampiric nature coming to light. Her parents discovered quite early on that she was not exactly human, delightfully greeted by quite a number of little fang-marks when she went through teething as a toddler.

Vampires weren't unheard of by any means, but the couple lived in a rather wealthy rural area, and they had never in their lives encountered one in the flesh. However, having discovered the nature in their precious daughter, they felt it would be most appropriate to reach out online, finding comfort in the form of a number of forums and online communities centered on vampiric parenting and resources. They adapted their routines for her, swapping the baby food and solids that had caused her many a stomach ache with meats and iron-enriched tomato juice, which they had read online served as a temporary substitute for blood in the time it would take them to get in contact with a vampiric supply center for her. They abandoned the practice of using garlic in their cooking, so on and so forth, and with time Grace became a much quieter child, content and enriched.

As Grace grew, she remained very silent in her movements- thanks to her supernatural nature, she was able to move much faster than the average child, soundlessly darting around the manor she was raised in. Well, soundless aside from the occasional giggle when she was particularly giddy, or the wailing cries that followed her bumping into something in her fun. Despite her stealth and speed, she proved to be quite clutsy at times, running into things quite frequently even when she was moving at a normal speed.

When it came time for Grace to enter schooling, her parents debated quite a bit, before resolving that it would be good to enroll her at a school in the city, as opposed to one in the rural area they inhabited. They remained in their manor, but began arranging to take Grace to and from school each day, making the hour drive each direction in order to allow her the chance to meet other kids who might not judge her as harshly as those in the rural lands were almost guaranteed to.

This went on for years, with Grace attending class with other kids, packing her little blood pack and tupperware of meat each day to class, shifting to just a thermostat full of blood as she got older. By 7th grade, she had grown accustomed to this routine quite perfectly- She now was brought to school and back home by a private driver her parents hired, but that change aside, things remained relatively unchanged. Grace was silent in her classes, hardly ever talking with her classmates unless it was required, preferring to spend her time studying or reading. It was in one of these such moments, where she had her nose in her latest reading, on the day when everything changed.

Mrs. Lorella called everyone's attention to the front of the room, interrupting the chatters of first period with an introduction. A new student would be joining them. Grace looked you over without much intrigue, simply wishing to acquaint herself visually with you so that she would know your name if it came necessary- and yet, she was surprised when you met her eyes perfectly, honed in on her out of all the students present.

After introducing yourself, as soon as Mrs. Lorella let you go, you made your way straight to Grace's desk, smiling at her. "Is this seat taken?" Grace shyly shook her head, and you eagerly plopped your things down, scooting in right next to her with a smile that rivaled the sun in brightness.

It was that way for the rest of your classes- There was only one period in which the seat next to Grace was not available, and in every other opportunity you didn't hesitate to take the one which was, even looking a little saddened when you saw that one taken seat. Grace was slightly put off by you at first- She didn't dislike you by any means, but you were strange to her. She had always been naturally avoided or picked on by other kids, and although she shut that down quite quick to the best of her ability, that didn't mean she searched for companionship in her classmates. She thought she had more than enough of the stuff with her fathers, whom she was incredibly fond of. And yet, as time went on, and you continued to insert yourself into her life, she found it hard to deny that she enjoyed your company.

Within the next few weeks, her walls had begun to come down, and she found herself increasingly giddy when she was around you. One day at lunch hour, without even consciously realizing it, she offered for you to come over to her house after school. It was an offhand remark, in reply to you asking her about her driver, and yet the way your face lit up in response made her heart flutter in a way that was completely alien to her. You eagerly agreed, happy to spend time with her as she found herself smiling in response.

Thus began a routine of sorts- Most days after classes, you would go to Grace's house, as your parents were busy with work and made no complaint to the extra hours afforded by not having to drive you home, and you and Grace would spend the afternoon together. By the time you had to go home, Grace would accompany you, and listen to your ramblings the entire car ride to your home, spending the drive back in silence, dreamily looking out the window.

Grace's parents were quick to catch on to her fondness for you, welcoming you as one of their own in a way.

Over the years, you and Grace became attached at the hip - anywhere you went, Grace followed, and vice versa. Any time you had to spend apart, Grace found herself lamenting the distance, eagerly texting you in efforts to close the gap electronically, which proved comforting to her worries. However, it was noticable that any time you were apart from her, she became visibly antsy. She would tap her foot, fidget with her family rings, look around as if she could spot you nearby- and don't forget checking her phone often, debating whether to call you or not. As the attachment between you grew, so did her protectiveness, to a very obvious degree.

Now, on the nature of Grace's vampirism- While the school she went to wasn't necessarily hostile to her kind, her parents were instructed when she was first enrolled to teach her to keep it under wraps. While being a vampire wouldn't get you hunted openly like in the olden days, government intervention didn't prevent the prejudice that still ran deep in some people, and they found that it would be safer for their little girl if she didn't rampantly go around showing off her vampirism.

Grace had been very good about this rule of her parents' for her entire schooling- and yet, like most of her outward shell, it unraveled quite easily when it came to you.

One day, when you were at her house, you questioned her about her fidgeting. She bit her lip, continuing to twist her rings as her eyes flitted around the empty library you two presently occupied your time in.

"..Can I tell you a secret, Y/N?"

"Of course! You can tell me anything- I'm very good at keeping secrets, my mom says."

Grace took a deep breath.

"..I'm a vampire." She blurted out, cheeks rosy as she watched your reaction with fearful eyes.

A moment passed, and she just about felt her stomach drop, when you suddenly smiled, your entire body language brightening with intrigue.

You eagerly questioned her about it, taking the news in stride as you rattled off all your curiosities, holding both of her hands in yours as you did so, a habit of yours that Grace found herself quite fond of.

From that day onward, Grace found her attachment to you growing- She had never before even considered draining someone, and yet these days she found her eyes drifting to your neck dangerously often. She always managed to catch herself, although it was in the private moments that the urge came strongest. She always reeled herself in however, and was able to restrain herself.

That was, until sometime in the summer after your highschool years had finished, when a blood shortage had been wearing her thin, and you had been teasing her privately at every turn regarding her fangs, and how you would let her bite you if she wanted (which never failed to fluster her immensely, might I add.)

(Stopping here for now, lemme know what y'all think and any ideas you might have regarding Grace!)

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere vampire #grace my oc #oc intro

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its-a-ittle-bit-cold · 10 months

Text

I traveled fifteen hundred miles to meet you

Maverick x daughter!reader

series masterlist

my masterlist

summary: you begin training and quickly make a name for yourself

a/n: soooo I decided to get rid of the hangman romance that I was gonna put in, and kind of wrote over the scenes as hangman x phoenix (sorry) I didn’t wanna get rid of a whole section ..

ps : sorry for the wait :’( i’ve been swamped with life stuff

warnings: PTSD, child abuse (mother- daughter), feeling unwanted, violence ? canon typical mostly, death, loss of a loved friend

The drill is simple in theory.

Shoot down Maverick, you win.

But, like your unfortunate lack of skill playing eight ball, the execution is getting there. The first team to go in is too cocky.

He gets them, easy.

Hangman and Phoenix give him a run for his money, but not by much. You’re up next, with Hangman as your wing man.

Strapping into your jet feels almost surreal. It’s an awesome feeling to be back.

It’s not until you’re in the air that the flashbacks start.

You and Hangman take off, having decided pre-exercise that you were going to try to divide and conquer: one of you as bait, the other lying in wait for Maverick to take it. You, as the pilot with the best evasive skills and maneuvers, drew the short stick as the bait in the experiment.

you know that Hangman is notorious for leaving his wingmen behind, so you’re going to be looking for chances to give him a little of his own medicine.

“Ready, team?”

You’ve become more comfortable with the notion that Maverick is your dad.

It hit you, while you were lying awake last night, that maybe you should be mad that he left. Your mom always had been angry at him, but could you really blame him for leaving the crazy woman who gave birth to you?

the answer is no, because you did the same.

“Ready when you are cap’n.” You flick on the proper controls and Hangman gives you a Shaka sign, signaling his okay.

And then you’re off.

The rush is exhilarating. It’s not until you can hear Maverick behind you and Hangman warning you that he’s on your tail and you need to shake him that the flashbacks start.

You grunt, forcing your jet up and over in a backwards barrel roll to escape Maverick’s targeting system. You begin a classic evasive maneuver, the realize he’s not even on your tail anymore.

“Majesty! he’s on me!”

“Shake him, then!”

But you follow your radar to where Hangman’s getting chased in a high speed game of tag, and readying your targeting system.

“Majesty, where are you?” Hangman shouts into the comm. You hear the familiar beeping.

He’s done.

You’re on your own.

Majesty! Keep moving! there’s still a mission to complete!

the rough voice of your former commander rings in your ears as you pull up in a steep climb, about to try a new maneuver.

(Y/n). I’m sorry. Duchess’s vitals aren’t looking good.

You metaphorically slam the breaks in your plane (which you can’t do because there are none) and let yourself free fall. It’s a special trick that you and Tae always practiced.

“What the fuck kind of maneuver was that?”

Maverick’s rough voice breaks the comms. You click your targeting system on and hit him. The beep over the comm would be music in your ears if you weren’t stuck in the past.

“Wake up! Y/n, we need to go fly before training starts!” Tae, your best friend and wingman (wingwoman?) has always been an early morning productivity person. You always joke about her absolute inability to sleep in, even when you’ve stayed up till three the night before engineering new tricks and stunts to try the next morning. “I have an idea!”

“Uh oh,” you say through a yawn, already tossing on your uniform and tying your hair back. Tae rolls her eyes, then practically sprints out of your dorm room, you got on her heels.

she collected me, up off the ground where you abandoned things

“That was some damn good flying out there,” Hangman tells you. He’s bought you your first mocktail of the night - a fancy-looking ombré concoction that Penny’s cooked up for you. “If only I’d been alive to see it.”

“Don’t you worry,” Phoenix butts in. “We all saw it, and we also all saw her hang you out to dry!” her tone is just a little too gleeful. “Now that’s something to toast to!”

“You wound me, Trace.”

You toast with Phoenix, then excuse yourself from the pilot’s table, seeking some fresh air. You’d snapped out of your flashback, but Tae’s laugh still rings in your ears. You make your way out to the deck and lean on the railing overlooking the beach and the ocean.

“You’re one helluva pilot.”

You rub your nose with your forearm.

“That’s what I keep hearing.” You close your eyes, wondering if you should confide in him or not. Probably not. He’s your instructor, not your dad.

I mean, he’s also your dad.

“whatcha drinking?” You steal a glance at your drink, which has faded to a dull pinkish orange. Maverick’s holding a bottle.

“Some kind of mocktail Penny came up with.” you take a sip of it. “I don’t drink,” you add after a moment.

“Well, you’re better than all of us, then.”

You grin and shake your head. Looking out over the water, it’s easy to forget why you’re here and be transported back to the past.

“Now that,” Tae begins, setting down her gin and tonic on the table and admiring the multicolored mocktail Penny concocted. “That is what I call a mocktail.”

You take a swig.

“See, Duchess, Apollo was wrong. Mocktails can be fun!”

“I never said they weren’t!”

This is the last night you have at top gun, and, appropriately, you’re a spending it at the Hard Deck, which is a newer bar that just opened. You’ve made fast friends with the owner and her daughter - Amelia.

You glance outside and gasp, standing up.

“Come on! look at the sunset!”

You rush out to the front deck, wide eyed and giddy at the pure beauty of the sunset. Tae trails behind, watching you watch the colors paint the evening sky.

“Can you believe it’s over?” You ask her. “No more coming to the Hard Deck, no more Apollo or Clipper, and pretty soon we’ll be deployed on the other side of the world.”

Tae sighs.

“You know what I think? I think this experience will stay with us forever. I’ll always remember the pranks we pulled on the guys and the late night beach walks. It’s like graduating high school. or the academy. This chapter of life is over, and we need to move on.”

You give her a wry smile.

“You know, you may be a dumbass ninety five percent of the time, but you do give some damn good advice.”

“Want another?”

you nod.

“You’re a damn good pilot. You’re top of the class for a reason. Don’t you ever forget that.”

you meet her eyes.

“Duchess-“

“Hey. You with me?”

Maverick snaps his fingers in your face, trying to snap you out of your daze. you shake out your neck.

“Yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was telling you I’ve never seen a plunge like that executed correctly, and then you zoned out on me.”

You focus your gaze on a spot on the horizon.

“Yeah, uh, I was just remembering.. something.”

He looks at you, doing a once-over, face skeptical. He almost looks.. concerned? Again, you wonder, if you were in another life, would he be worried for you, his daughter, instead of you, his pilot.

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

Yes. You’ll understand. You’re probably the only one here who would.

You smile sadly.

“Goodnight, Captain.”

he filled the holes that you burned in me at six years old

The next morning, Maverick sends you all an email to wear “beach clothes you can run around in”, so you, Phoenix and Halo all put on your shorts and sports bras, and Halo puts on a t-shirt. The email also ordered you to meet in front of the Hard Deck, so that’s what you do.

You leave significantly earlier than the rest of the group specifically to see Amelia, who you still haven’t seen since coming back to the base. You tap your knuckles on the doorframe, drawing her attention. She looks at you, looks again, gasps and sprints towards you in some kind of flying tackle- hug.

“Hey!” You exclaim, squeezing her tight and spinning her around in a circle. “You got big!”

Amelia giggles into you.

“Mom told me you were back. I almost didn’t believe her.”

“Well, I couldn’t just never see my favorite tea party partner again, now could I?”

Amelia pulls away, observing you. Her eyes brighten as she remembers your tea parties from when you were in Top Gun.

“I’d forgotten about those! And Tae would bring those little cucumber sandwiches!”

Her face falls in a frown.

It’s like a sneak attack, having someone mention her in passing. You’d been up almost the whole night before trying to calm the memories that have been resurfacing since your return to Miramar.

“I miss her.”

Sometimes you forget that Tae was almost as close to Penny and Amelia as you were. She would always come with you to watch Amelia and hang with Amelia and Penny on the slow nights.

“Me, too.”

“Well, look who the cat dragged in.” Penny comes over to you from the storeroom and hugs you. She then holds you at arms’ length and looks you up and down. “Now, I know you’re busy, but tomorrow isSaturday, and I’d love for you to come for dinner like we used to.”

The unspoken with Tae beats down on you. You glance out of the window to see the rest of the squad gathered there in varying forms of swimwear. Most of the guys are wearing obnoxiously printed swim shorts, obviously wearing no shirts.

“That sounds… great. I’ll be by. Text me, okay? I have to go.” You give Amelia another squeeze and beeline out of the bar, joining the group of your fellow pilots.

Maverick’s the last to get here, wearing a white shirt and a pair of jeans, holding two footballs.

He introduces the game: dogfight football, offense and defense at the same time. It doesn’t really sound like there are very many rules in the game, only that you get touchdowns occasionally.

He also divides the teams. You and Phoenix are together, Bradley too.

And then you’re starting and you have actually no idea what you’re supposed to be doing; you never were adept at playing football.

You’ve been paired up with Hangman, who must be going easy on you, because you get past him every time, even scoring a touchdown once. About half and hour in, he strikes a deal with Phoenix.

“Okay, Trace. Here’s the deal,” he says between plays. “The next touchdown, if it’s your team, I’ll buy a round for everyone the next time we all go out.”

“okay,” Phoenix glance at your team. You’re all looking pretty skeptical, as you should. “What’s the catch?”

“I my team gets the next touchdown…” he drags out. He leans in and whispers in her ear. Her face breaks into a cautious smile.

“Deal, Bagman, but I’m just warning you, that’s an awful deal on your part.”

He shrugs, flashing you a perfect smile.

The next touchdown goes to Halo, who’s on Hangman’s team, and everyone turns expectantly to him, wondering what the bet was. He walks up to Phoenix, dips her and presses his lips to hers.

You let out a wolf whistle. She breaks the kiss and flips you off before pulling Hangman in for another one.

Coyote’s making a point of covering Bob’s eyes. Rooster has a hand over his mouth, pretending to retch and you jog over to him, patting him on the back, face splitting in a smile.

Penny shares a look with Maverick as they watch the two young people kiss. She’s smiling, and that makes him smile.

“What do you think of her, now that you’ve flown with her?”

She nods at the pilot in question.

There’s so much he can say about her: smart, confident, thoughtful. Reckless and sassy and a little bit too stubborn. She’s talented, anyone can see that, maybe even the best on the squad, but she’s holding back.

She’s hesitant to fly with anyone but herself, even leaving her comrades out in the open in favor of shooting down the enemy, which is surprising, considering her most recent deployment.

Her deployment. He finally got around to looking into that, the incident that sent her into leave for more than half of the last year.

The report had been brief: routine patrol, they had gone to investigate a distress signal, not enough ammo or fuel. Someone detonated a missile too close. Duchess went down. Majesty took down three bandits in the span of five minutes before her aircraft was too damaged to continue flying.

There had been no saving duchess. she was waterlogged and impaled with a scrap of metal before Majesty was even there to save her.

Very, very traumatic.

It reminds him of Goose.

he’s surprised she’s even willing to fly at all after that.

“In all seriousness?” Maverick looks out over the game. She’s awful at football. Can’t throw a spiral. “She’s a good kid. Even better pilot. She’s been the closest to finishing the course out of all of them.”

She glances over at the two of them, waving to penny before jumping for the ball.

“She reminds me of you,” Penny tells him. “You’re more similar than either of you know.”

Admiral Kazansky, AKA Iceman has been a mentor to you since the beginning. He’d taken a liking to you and your reckless flying when you’d first joined the Naval academy. Said you reminded him of a friend of his. You’d always thought he meant his wingman, and he had, but more recently, you’d realized that his wingman was the one and only Maverick, AKA Pete Mitchell, AKA your dad.

You knock on the door and his wife lets you in. Her eyes are red and puffy.

“Sarah…” you say, hugging her. “It’s back?”

she shakes her head.

“we don’t know. he can’t even talk without the pain coming back.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Maybe I shouldn’t-“

“He’s in his office,” she tells you gently. “You know he always wants to see you.”

You purse your lips, smiling tightly.

“Thanks, Sarah.”

You ease the door to Ice’s office open, He turns to face you. He’s paler, gaunter, and wearing an overcoat and a scarf. you know enough to know he’s not doing well.

“Hey, Ice.”

He points at the seat across from him.

Right. He can’t talk.

“I had to see you.” You sit down and reach into your purse. “Kevin sent me this.”

You pull out the wrinkled, folded photograph and hold it out to him. His shaky hands pull it taut as he squints at it. You hold your breath, waiting for some kind of surprise to show on his face. Something, anything.

“Did you know? Is that why you kept me around?”

Your voice shakes uncontrollably. Like most things recently, you want to be angry, but you just don’t have the strength or conviction anymore. You just want to know.

Ice hands you the photo back and types on the computer.

Yes.

No.

your breath catches.

“How long?”

Since we met.

You sigh shakily.

“Why? why didn’t you tell me?”

Ice stares at you.

You stare back.

“How long did the doctor say you have?”

Weeks.

You gnaw at your lip.

“I don’t want to lose you, too.”

You’re not going to.

You shake your head, wiping under your eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

Losing Ice hurts. He’d always been there for you when you needed to talk. Even now, when he can’t use his voice.

He clears his throat.

“Tell… him.” His voice is raspy and wet. It grates on your ears like it must on his throat.

you nod vigorously.

“I will. I just… I want him to like me, you know? before he feels obligated to, I mean.” you stare at the picture of the two of them on Ice’s desk. “I don’t even know if he’d be happy to know.”

He will.

there’s a soft knock on the doorframe. It’s Maverick. Of course it is.

You grip Ice’s hand.

“Looks like your next appointment is here.” Your laugh is wet. “Bye, Ice.”

You nod to your father as you leave. his brow is furrowed in confusion, but he nods back.

Penny and Amelia’s house is one thing in North Island that’s always stayed the same. the smell of candles burning constantly, amelia’s artwork hanging on the walls, (which, admittedly, has gotten a lot better over the last few years) and the little bits of clutter scattered around the house.

You’ve dressed up a bit, put on some makeup and washed all the gel out of your hair for the occasion. when you get there, Amelia drags you to her room almost before you can say hello to penny.

“Okay. Where’s the fire?” You tease, once the door is shut and you’re sitting on Amelia’s bed. She’s giddy in anticipation to tell you her news.

“I have tea,” she whispers conspiratorially. You lean in.

“Lay it all out for me.”

“Mom had Mav over last night.” her tone is smug. She’s obviously very happy to be able to tell you this news. “He tried to sneak out but I caught him. And,” she looks around and lovers her voice even more. “He’s coming over for dinner tonight!”

“No!”

“yes!”

“That’s crazy.”

It’s crazy that you literally keep running into him. It’s not like you’re avoiding Maverick, per se, but you still don’t know how to break the news to him.

Hey man, great lesson today. Oh, by the way, I’m the daughter you didn’t even know you had because my mom ran away when she found out she was pregnant. Yeah, I know it’s fucked up. If I was on good terms with her I would ask why, but she only calls me when she’s drunk.

That’d go over well.

Amelia crosses her arms.

“That’s my tea. Now, tell me yours. Tell me about Top Gun.”

You look around her room. She repainted the walls a shade of yellow that you love. There are pictures hanging on the walls. One, a big one over her desk, is your favorite picture: a selfie you took of you, Amelia and Tae when you took her to Malibu to learn to surf.

“I love that picture,” you admit. Amelia nods, getting up to remove it from the wall. “Top Gun’s… not the same without her. Nothing is.”

Amelia’s always been wise for her age.

“I see her everywhere. I mean, I know I don’t, but I do.”

You smile tightly.

Grief sure is strange. Even Amelia feels the loss of Tae heavily.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“Girls! dinner!”

“What were you two talking about in there that was so important I couldn’t be part of the conversation?” Penny asks over the steak she’s prepared.

“Oh… nothing…” you take a sip of water.

“Just how Y/n’s in looooooooove,” Amelia singsongs.

You shoot Amelia a dirty look.

“We were actually talking about how the two of you have been canoodling.”

Maverick stops, his fork hanging in midair. Penny’s expression is priceless.

“Yeah, I mean why else would Mav be invited to Saturday dinner?” Amelia asks. You nod along with her sagely.

“This used to be a girls night,” you explain to him. “When Duchess and I were in Top Gun.”

“ah,” is all he says.

You pat your pocket, remembering the gift you had brought for Amelia and Penny.

“Actually, we were just talking about how Tae and I would take Amelia out on the weekends,” you tell Penny. “And I just remembered I brought this for you guys.”

You take the strip of photos from your pocket. It’s a photo booth strip from a long weekend taken to Disney. All four of you are smushed into the booth, wearing matching Minnie ears, leaning into each other and grinning.

“I have a copy, so you keep that.”

Penny admires it, sad smile forming on her lips. Amelia peeks over her shoulder, grinning. You avoid Tae’s eyes. They used to pierce you. The still do.

“I’d like to toast.” Penny raises her glass, setting the strip down. “To new beginnings.”

“to new beginnings,” you agree.

You don’t get very far into dinner before your phone rings. You decline the call. five seconds later, it’s ringing again.

Decline.

“Do you need to take that?” Mav asks (he’s gotten you to stop calling him sir, finally.) and you shake your head.

“It’s my mom. Hang on.”

Penny and you share a look. She raises an eyebrow. you shake your head.

Nothing to worry about.

You’re suddenly very hot as you excuse yourself from the table. you’re not quite out of the kitchen when you pick it up.

“Mom?”

“Y/n? Is this my disappointment of a daughter?”

you sigh into the phone, staying silent. Her jab sends tears welling up in your throat. Spending time with Amelia and Penny has always reminded you of the mother you could’ve had.

“Where’s your deposit? Where’s the money you owe me for giving you life and a roof over your head?”

You hurry to ease the door shut. The deposit. Goddamn. She’s sober enough to remember it. Ever since you moved out, you’ve been wiring her deposits every month to make sure she keeps living. You’d hoped it was enough to send her to rehab, but she refused to go.

“The deposit?” you say faintly, heart dropping.

Her voice gets thin and screechy over the line. You can’t bring yourself to pull the phone away from your ear as she spits barbs at you. You cover your mouth to muffle the wet sobs escaping your throat.

“You never wanted what’s best for your family! You left me for the Navy. You’ve never done anything right and that girl - Tae - died because of it.”

She’s never gone there before.

And you’ve never had anyone lay it out for you.

“Mom. mom. mom, stop!” You gasp out. “Everything I’ve done if for you! The money, the house, I stayed. For you!”

You don’t hear the porch door swing open.

“I didn’t owe you anything! I never did! I didn’t ask for you to have me!”

Your mother begins to argue with that, that you forced her to have you. You cut her off with a gut wrenching cry.

“I JUST WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME!”

You tear the phone from your ear and slam your thumb on the red button.

“Y/n.”

Penny.

You drop your phone, defeated. Penny reaches out hesitantly and uses her fingers to wipe your cheeks.

She’s hugging you and you’re crying before you can even know what’s happening.

To new beginnings.

begged you to want me, but you didn’t want to.

“Rooster.”

he’s pissed, drinking his second bottle.

“Rooster.”

You sit down next to him.

“What do you want?” he snarls. You gingerly put your hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

He leans into your hand. You sigh.

“Phoenix and Bob are gonna be okay. I went to see them before I came here. They’re not injured. Just shaken up.”

He slams his bottle on the table. You finch away.

“Did Maverick send you?”

“what? No.”

Surprisingly, it had been Hangman who told you that Rooster was sulking in the Hard Deck. He’d seemed worried about him, so you went to check up on him.

“He likes you, you know. Thinks you’re a good pilot.”

“I am a good pilot.” You nudge his shoulder. “But so are you. So are Phoenix and Payback and Coyote.”

“He pulled my papers, you know. So he must not think I’m that good.”

You hesitate. this has always been a sore subject for Rooster. Saying the wrong thing could result in making it worse- not better.

“He flew with your dad, right?”

Rooster rubs his face and takes another swig from his bottle.

“Yeah. But I’m not my dad. He thought I’d-“

“Maybe he was just scared, you know? Maybe he cared so much for you that he didn’t want to lose you.”

If he had known that you were his daughter, would he have pulled your papers, too? Or would he have wanted you to be like him, be a pilot in the Navy?

“whose side are you on?” Rooster snaps. “You’re saying the same things I’ve heard my whole career. No one thinks the great Maverick could make a mistake, I guess.”

“that’s not what i’m saying, Bradley!” you take a deep breath. “Like it or not, he cares about you. You’re the closest thing to a -“

You cut yourself off, because, strictly, Rooster isn’t the closest thing he has to a child that he has. You gulp back the words.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Can I… tell you something? But you have to swear not to tell anyone else.”

“I won’t,” Rooster promises. You hold out your pinky, and he stares at it. You raise your eyebrows at him. he looks around, no doubt making sure there’s no one who would make fun of him for pinky swearing, and interlocks his pinky with yours.

You reach into your pocket, retrieving the wrinkled, folded picture and hand it to him.

“That’s my mom,” you say, pointing to the woman. “and that…”

“That’s Maverick!” Rooster looks triumphant in his revelation. “So, what, Mav dated your mom?”

“No! Well, yeah, but that’s not what i was trying to tell you. Look at the date on the picture.”

Rooster squints and brings the paper closer to his eye.

“Wait. That’s..”

“twenty six years ago, and ten months after that was taken, I was born.”

Rooster drops the picture, mouth falling open. He’s staring at your face, no doubt picking out features reminiscent of Mav’s. You shift uncomfortably.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“I know!”

“Does he know?”

You hesitate. He might. There’s been a lot on his plate, though, and your last name could be forgettable if they only dated a couple of months twenty some years ago.

“No. I don’t think so.”

Roosters eyes widen.

“Wait so I can’t tell anyone?”

he groans when you nod.

“Y/nnnn you can’t just dump this on me and tell me I can’t tell anyone! That’s too much pressure!”

You snap your fingers in his punting face.

“You listen to me, Bradley Bradshaw. If you tell a single person I will hunt you down and slice you into tiny pieces and then cook you and let Hangman feed you to his horses.”

You cackle at the pure, unadulterated fear in his eyes. “That’s right. I remembered your deathly fear of horses, bitch!”

He’s pale, but his face breaks into a smile.

“I’m glad you’re back to normal, Majesty. You had me scared there for a second.”

You know what he means. Since Tae died, for a while, you had no will to do anything or see anyone- in other words, you were super duper depressed. Lately, you’ve felt lighter, like you can laugh and smile again without feeling guilty.

Here’s to new beginnings.

disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about how planes work or flying or anything like that

#top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick hangman #maverick x reader #maverick x daughter!reader #tw: death #tw: abuse

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lifetimeoftired · 11 months

Text

I really like the Vergil/Lady ship in dmc and here’s some thoughts I have about them in no particular order.

- Both Vergil and Lady are stubborn ‘my way or the highway’ kind of people, and they have good reason to be. But that stubbornness also breads violence, so when upset, they tend to lash out without knowing the full situation, though Lady is slightly better at admitting when she’s overreacted. Still, the violence in them would make for pretty interesting interactions. Especially considering Vergil can’t just stab her because she will shoot him back, and if she dies that’ll just start the feud all over again and he’s tired.

- Obviously they both hate Arkham, but what really interests me is that both love their mothers dearly, but Vergil has spent a long time convincing himself he resents her for ‘abandoning’ him. Lady’s relationship with her mother isn’t really talked about, but I’m sure she’s grown to both worship and resent her mother. On one hand, the worship comes from the fact that she’s a martyr, a victim to an evil man’s schemes. Stolen from her long before she should have lost her for now other reason than cruelty and selfishness. On the other hand, why did she choose Arkham in the first place? Why couldn’t her mother see the monster that he was? Those feelings she’d repress hardcore and lean further into loving her mother and seeing her as better than she was. Vergil does the exact same thing, but with his father. He does say he blames weakness no his humanity because Eva couldn’t protect them, but I think on some level he also resents that his father, what he considers to be a powerful being, also was not there to protect all of them. But he can’t hate his father, that would mean hating the reason he’s still alive. I think if they ever got to actually talk about, they’d bond over this ‘I can’t hate the parent I want to because that would mean I’d have to acknowledge the other parent’ feeling. Lady would notice it in Vergil first, being slightly more willing to be vulnerable, might say something in a backhanded way that only Vergil would be able to pick up on, cause backhanded is a second language to him by now.

- And of course Lady doesn’t put up with his shit. As much as it would annoy him that some mere human was calling him out, after seeing his own child and the humanity in Nero that saved him and Dante, he’d give her the time of day he would not many other people. After all, she is one of the few humans able to march into hell and still win- himself non withstanding because he’s that strong of course. But she did fight her way through Temen-ni-gru and he’d respect that. And when he gives just that little bit, she shows him empathy once she really understands why he’s done what he did.

- They also both care deeply for Dante, but due to trauma and pride have to act like they don’t. Once Vergil comes back and they both realize Dante is Not Okay(tm) when he can’t see Vergil, he makes a deal with Lady, Trish, and Nero to keep an eye on him when they can (not realizing Dante’s asked them to keep an eye on Vergil) and Lady’s the one who does it the most often since Nero has the kids and Trish is terrible with getting Dante back on his feet. Lady and Vergil work out a schedule and everything, bickering like an old married couple about Dante.

- Also Vergil and Lady arguing about guns vs devil arms would be extremely amusing. She insists there’s nothing wrong with guns, and Vergil is very much face demons man to man. This kind of spat often ends with them physically coming to blows, but Lady knows he’s not actually going to harm her by this point. He’s not going easy on her, he’d never disrespect her so, but the fights always end with her life and limbs intact. And that’s more than enough reason to keep fighting him. And they come to a grudging admiration of each other’s abilities since Vergil actually honed his skills through years of practice, just as she did, and they both are constantly coming up with new moves to show off and try to win these fights. They still don’t agree on guns versus devil arms, but if they give in, they have no reason to keep fighting.

- Also, after years of dealing with Dante, Lady would actually know when to back off when calling Vergil out. But unlike Dante, Vergil doesn’t joke circles around her, he gets Mean. And those are times they don’t fight with weapons, just words, but it hurts worse like that. But after they’ve both cooled off some, Vergil, older now, wiser than he used to be, does try to make an apology of sorts. He never admits to going overboard, but he brings her things he knows she likes, and she grits her teeth, breathes, and tries again.

- Lady's the one who teaches Vergil how to shoot properly. In dmc3 he was only able to because he was leaning on Dante, but he never bothered to learn how to do it properly. So, to her surprise, he accepts when she teasingly offers to teach him. He’s better than expected, but there’s plenty of room to improve. And he takes that as a challenge, one she’s happy to meet.

- I think about that scene in 3 a lot where she’s sitting there, all slumped over and falling apart after giving Dante Kalina Ann, and Vergil walks right past, and only then does she get up. I like to imagine in my wild shipping delusions that he tells her there she can give up if she wants, but Arkham is of no consequence to the twin’s and their battle and will not be standing in their way much longer. Even if he doesn’t bother her at all, in a way, Vergil’s actions here I think are one of respect. He respects that she wants Arkham dead, and is willing to kill her own father for what he did. But if she’s not going to commit to it, that he does not respect. So if he says something, it’s to motivate her to see if she’ll actually do it. If he doesn’t, it’s because he’s annoyed that she won’t. Years down the line, he’d bring this back up and they’d talk about it, and it’s one of the few times he admits to respecting her at all. Gives her a ton of complicated feelings about it.

- One interesting thing that would come up is when he’s talking to Arkham and mocks him for still having softer feelings towards his daughter. Because Vergil wanted his parents to love him, so he would hold so much disgust towards Arkham and be unable to acknowledge it’s because Arkham is a terrible father. He’d say this, after all these years and after she’s earned his trust, that Arkham should have done better by her.

- I like to think Vergil does actually think highly of her for killing her own bitch of a dad. Lady doesn’t. After all, you never really recover from killing your own parent even if it’s for the right reasons. She tells him that, and mentions that she said the same to Nero. And he thanks her for it. So many softer feelings because he can attribute, at least in part, that he’s alive thanks to her. And even though it’s still a mess in her head about killing Arkham, there’s something really touching about Vergil acknowledging her strength anyway. Of course, some things aren’t said aloud, they just say it in the way they stand a little closer.

#devil may cry #Vergil/Lady #headcanon #Vergil #Lady

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zombiecicada · 1 month

Note

Headcannons for yamikage?

Trigger warning for darker themes and child abuse/neglect

Such a complex basket case.

-Yamikage identifies as male and uses he/him pronouns. He will never let this fact about him see the light of day, but he did experiment with she/her pronouns at one point in his lifetime. This experiment did not last. Sexuality wise, he is demirose, requiring a deep bond and a lot of trust with someone to experience any kind of attraction with anyone.

-His full legal name is Yamikage Kubo. He never introduces himself by his full name (if he introduces himself at all, getting him to talk to most people and try to make unnecessary introductions makes pulling teeth seem easy) and hates his last name with a passion. He also does not like being called ‘Yami’ by anyone other than Gamma, and will instantly correct someone that his name is Yamikage if you try and call him that. Currently, he is equivalent to being forty seven years old.

-Yamikage is the youngest of three siblings, and has an older brother and an older sister. His father is a legendary ninja amongst the ninja circles and overall the clan Yamikage hails from is both extremely powerful, but also has a very high reputation. Yamikage’s father is a star warrior, having served the Ninja Task Force for many years, long before they ever joined forces with the GSA and started actively participating in the war. He was forced to temporarily take leave from the force after his wife, the leader of the village, passed away. He returned to assume all her duties and the care of his three children. Yamikage is not close with any of his family members. His siblings have a long history of mocking and picking on their little brother, pulling multiple pranks on him that ranged from leading him in the woods to show him ‘something cool’ only to abandon him so he’d get lost, to actively trying to scare him with things and scenarios that they knew he hated or feared, often ending with him actually getting hurt. His father always looked the other way after telling Yamikage once that if he didn’t like how he was being treated he would have to stand up for himself and fight back, fights he always lost as his siblings were both a good deal bigger, older and more experienced. Yamikage’s father had a very sour opinion on Yamikage, and has told Yamikage to his face that he wishes Yamikage had not been conceived, had he not been born his wife, Yamikage’s mother, would not have passed away due to the pregnancy complications. He tried his hardest to go low contact with his family prior to his betrayal. Relationship wise, Yamikage had a very on and off dating relationship with Gamma, who he had planned to ask to be his boyfriend. He also got engaged against his wishes to his now ex-fiancée.

-Being born a star warrior from a young age Yamikage was to join the Ninja Task Force and fight alongside the army. Yamikage, not wanting any attention, much less to be an officer, purposefully did just below average during basic training. Enough to pass, but not enough to be considered for any extra training, even if in truth he was an extraordinarily skilled strategist and had considerable combative abilities as well. Truth be told, he did not want to be here, he didn’t like any of these people. The one saving grace was this got him away from his father and siblings, and as long as he did his assigned work he was left alone. Well, almost. The thing about that kind of plan was that it only worked if he actually was left alone, and a certain red sefortian refused to let him just brood alone in some corner on his time off. If you were to ask him, he really was not sure why he ever decided to give Gamma any time of day, but soon their interactions became almost daily.

-Yamikage’s favourite things to do are practice his various ninja skills alone, play strategy games with Gamma, and his and Gamma’s ‘war’ where they will try and tap each other playfully. Gamma was never fast enough or sneaky enough to catch Yamikage off guard. He will deny it till the end of time, but he’s actually a pretty big fan of romantic comedy novels. His favourite being a popular series that is well known for being horrifically bad. He’s also a pretty big fan of calligraphy and even knows how to craft certain pieces of jewelry.

-Yamikage’s favourite snacks are dango, thought he will eat just about anything due to growing up on the tail end of a famine on his home world. A lot of Yamikage’s comrades were disturbed to find that he had no problems eating demonbeast meat during the war.

-Ability wise, like most of his kind he has control over the chakra produced by his body. Specifically his ninjutsu focuses on the control of wind and shadows. He’s much more skilled than he’ll let on. He also has a few other ninja abilities and skills, like short distance teleportation and scaling vertical walls. For weapons he has his katana, alongside several throwing weapons and various other ninja tools.

-It is as only after his steady descent into darkness that he started putting the work and effort into climbing the ranks. He became the Ninja Task Force’s star strategist, alongside one of its stronger warriors. He finally played the part of being the perfect child his father always wanted, and he despised every single second of it. But it eventually got him the rank of the task force’s second in command next to the Ninja Task Force’s leader Fiona. His father finally saying he was proud, even that he was sorry for his earlier treatment, came far, far too late. It was shortly after that Yamikage snapped entirely, executing the plan that had been festering in his mind for years. He targeted the GSA’s star strategist, and finally tried to kill Arthur, Meta, and Fiona in an ambush that ended with several hundred casualties, including the death of Arthur’s brother Bedivere who went in Arthur’s place and fell into the trap meant for him.

-Yamikage is smaller than the average member of his species, and was born premature. Besides that, his only other physical health trait is the scar on the left side of his face, which does not cause any impairment to his vision. Yamikage has always been socially withdrawn and quite severely depressed, but during the years after Gamma’s discharge from the army, he started to experience several symptoms of psychosis. He stared hallucinating moments of Gamma being back, overly intense bad ideas and voices in his head argued with him that punishing everyone around him would make him stop feeling this empty, and he started to sleepwalk a lot, something he hadn’t done since he was a child. Yamikage still experiences delusions daily, but rarely reaches point of truly being detached from reality and is vaguely aware in the back of his mind that what he is experiencing isn’t real.

-He is ambidextrous, but prefers the use of his right hand.

-After the events of his betrayal, the Ninja Task Force between Fiona’s severe wounds preventing her from properly leading, no second in command to take her place, and the absolutely tarnished reputation of the ninjas, was disbanded and the GSA lost the support of the ninjas. Alongside such, Meta Knight was also severely injured, Dragato was captured and Bedivere was killed. Not satisfied with the damage done, Yamikage continued for several years to further sabotage the GSA, playing his hand in the events that resulted in the recorded deaths of both Jecra and Garlude. He didn’t stop until the GSA was effectively wiped off the face of the universe in the Final Battle. Falspar has not seen or heard of him since that battle, but has a pretty strong suspicion that he is in fact alive. And he wants nothing more than to bring him to justice, or rather, albeit something he cannot admit out loud due to his image, let Nonsurat use him as a training dummy until there’s nothing left of him. Little does he know that Meta Knight and Wolfbell encountered him on Popstar.

-His theme song is Sleepwalk by Forrest Day.

#hoshi no kirby #kirby #kirby right back at ya #art #kirby art #kirby au #kirby of the stars #kirby wolfbell au #digital artist #yamikage #ninja #kirby characters #character asks #kirby gsa #character headcanons #I’m sorry this took so long I admittedly have never ironed out my hcs for this chronically emo man

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commfiesammie · 4 months

Text

The Stanley Challenge

We all know and love Stanley Humphrey. Ever since his debut on the Lilsimsie channel on February 1st of 2020, Stanley has been an icon of the “ get rich-quick schemes ” However, If we dig deep into Stanley’s history, there is little to no information about him. When he was created by Lilsimsie, she acknowledged that he is actually a hotdog sim and that he had a dad who helped him with money in the past. But, she never addressed how or why? and I can’t help but wonder; When did he become a hot dog? And how? Well, it is time for us to wonder no more!

Welcome to the “ Stanley Lore Challenge” Here we will make sense of it all. We will go back in time and find out the true lore of Stanley Humphery the hotdog sim.

Note:

This challenge can be played in two ways :

A- Easy Mode

( Buy the lot, build a house then cheat the money to zero)

B-Hard Mode

(Buy the lot and then immediately cheat the money to zero)

Basic rules:

1- Each heir must represent a hotdog ingredients or topping.

2-Money cheats are NOT allowed. We are scheming after all.

3- You can live in any world of your choosing unless the challenge specifically ask you to relocate.

4- every generation must start with zero dollars.

5- lifespan can be whatever you decide, though a normal life span is recommended.

6-The cursed meatwall heirloom must be placed in each build after the second generation.

Disclaimer: I have created this challenge because I wanted to create my own story for Stanley and share it with the community. @Lilsimsie is the original creator of Stanley Humphrey and owns full rights to his story of origin. This challenge drafts a story of my own thoughts and theories and is not all associated with the true mysteries of Stanley or his creator @lilsimsie.

Generation One: The Bun

You are an introvert who lives in a secluded area in Mt. Komorebi. You enjoy reading random books, playing the Sims, and practicing yoga. You are not seeking love as your cat is enough. Your one best friend is your old college roommate Bob Pancakes. Your life is normal, safe, and happy. However, one night while streaming “The Sims Forever” Eliza Pancakes comes over to your house, starts talking poorly about Bob, confesses love to you, and now wants to have your baby… The choice is yours!

Traits: Cat lover, Creative, Loner

Aspirations: inner peace

Scheme: Live Streaming

Rules:

Have Only One Child

Must live in a tiny home

Must max the Wellness skill

Finish the “MySims trophies” collection

Generation Two: The Hotdog

In this generation, you are a childish individual who only cares about themselves. After the passing of your parent, you wasted all your inheritance money on hot dates and parties. One day you find yourself on an empty island with just the clothes on your back and just a few simoleons. Lucky enough, you stumbled on an empty abandoned food stall next to a grill and your hot dog grilling business was born.

Traits: Childish, Glutton, Party animal

Aspiration: Serial romantic

Scheme: Meat wall and food stall

Rules:

Must marry an evil spell caster

Must have a secret affair with pregnancy

Master DJ mixing skill and dancing skill

Must buy a meat wall

Generation Three: Mustard

You had a happy childhood, you got along with your siblings, and had more toys than you could ever play with. As a teen, you fell in love with a person at school but that ended poorly, as a result, you cared less and felt more distant from everyone. Everyone was nice to you, but you always felt like something was missing. One night as your family slept soundly, you ready your favorite things and quietly snuck out.

Traits: Loyal, Friendly, Family-oriented

Aspiration: Big happy family

Scheme: Decor box and Trifting

Rules:

Move out as a teen

fall in love with a ghost and bring them back to life

live in a suburban house

Master handiness skill and parenting skill

Generation Four: Ketchup

Some might say that even as a child you were money obsessed. But, that is not entirely true. As a child you enjoyed simple things like playing make believe, cooking with your parents, and doing chores. it’s only when you got older and experienced the real world that you became harsh, obsessed with money, and materialistic objects.

Traits: Ambitious, Materialistic, Snob

Aspirations: Fabulously wealthy

Scheme: Use Dumpster diving to fund your five-star restaurant

Rules:

Master Cooking skill and Gourmet cooking skill

Live in modren house with a live in buttler

Marry for money and become widowed twice

Have atleast one set of twins

Generation Five: Pickled Relish

You are green with jealousy. You can’t believe that your parent gave the family hot dog recipe to your other sibling and not you! How could they do that to you? You were the best one with the best grades! You always made your bed and did your chores, it’s so unfair! But, it’s whatever, you can still figure it out.

Traits: Jealous, Evil, Genius

Aspiration: Seeker of Secrets

Scheme: blackmailing and programming

Rules:

Master Robotics skills and cooking skill

Complete “Experimental Food photo” collection.

fall in love with in love and marry a mermaid.

become best friend with the grim reaper

Generation Six: White Onions

You spent most of your days in your room, keeping to yourself. You never really got along with your parents and didn’t have many friends. You lived a very normal life until you met your better half, you became best friends, fall in love and got married. After, you went on adventures, discovered hidden gems and found wishing well. You made a wish for a baby and when you went back home the magical meatwall was gone and a baby had magically appeared.

Traits: Socially awkward, Paranoid, Geek

Aspiration: Renaissance sim

Scheme: transfer ray

Rules:

Master Gardening skill

Be engaged to your best friend.

wish for a kid at the wishing well

must name one of your kids “ Stanley”

Lastly;

If you have played this challenge and wish to share it with me don't forget to tag me @commfiesammie i would love to see it.

Special thanks to Wesley for helping in the proofreading process.

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 challenge #the sims #the sims community

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book-place · 2 years

Text

Alike

Warnings: mentions of child abandonment, weapons, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Poe Dameron x child reader, Finn x child reader

Request: maybe a star wars poe dameron x child reader where the child is seen scared and alone but once shes not scared anymore has a very similar personality to poe and they end up teasing each other a lot <3

Request by: Anon

*not my gif*

Summary: After being left all alone, Finn and Pie are the only people who could help you

A/N: This is rushed, sorry

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Darkness.

That’s the first thing that would come to Poes mind whenever he thought back to the night he first met you.

The next was the deafening silence.

Between the horror and not being able to see room not being able to hear, the man felt like he was suffocating. Suffocating in a room with more than enough air.

It wasn’t until his hands subconsciously fumbled to the belt around his waist, taking out a glow rod, and flicking it on as quickly as he could.

Warm, yellow light immediately flooded every corner of the vast cargo hold, illuminating the crates full of who knows what.

A breath of relief slipped passed through his lips, the muscles in his back loosening as his stance relaxed.

“Hey.” A voice from behind him said.

Poe let out a small scream, immediately tensing once again as he jumped a foot in the air and whipped around to face Finn, who was laughing with his hands in the air in a surrender motion.

“Sorry, man.” He snickered, knowing he would never let his friend live that down.

The dark haired man’s face hardened into a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, “We need to get you a bell to put around your neck, or something.”

Finn only huffed out a laugh in return, patting his shoulder as he moved past his friend.

The two of them moved farther in the room, keeping closer than they would care to admit, and glanced around, searching for the crates they were sent to receive.

The only sounds that reached their ears were their own footsteps and breathing. Until it wasn’t, there was something else.

Through the silence, there was a small whimper, followed by a soft cry and sob.

The men exchanged glances and their hands immediately went to the blasters holistired at their sides.

Creeping towards the spruce of the noise, they couldn’t help but each hold in a breath in anticipation. This was supposed to be their day off, getting an easy retrieving job, but this could quickly escalate into something it wasn’t supposed to be. It always could.

Once they were certain that whatever was making the noise was on the other side of the cargo they were standing in front of, they each gave each other a nod and went around opposite sides.

When they got to the other side, the sight that greeted them was not one that they expected.

There you sat, curled up with your knees against your chest and your back against the crate with puffy eyes and a runny nose.

You couldn’t have been more than seven years old and your hair was like a rats nest upon your head and your clothes tattered and ten times too big for your own body.

Practically hissing at the light, you cowered away from the two creeping up men and buried your head in your folded up arms.

Their hands flew away from their weapons, instead went up in a surrender motion so as to not scare you any farther than they already had.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Finn spoke softly, not daring a step closer to you.

Poe, on the other hand, had a different approach.

He took a step closer to you and relaxed his arms, “We’re not going to hurt you, kid.” Your eyes lifted as he dropped down into a crouch in front of you, and for some reason you couldn’t drag your eyes away from his dark ones.

“W… who are you?” Your voice was scratchy and sore to use after all that crying that you finally stopped and it barely raised above a whisper.

“My name's Poe,” He pointed to himself, “And that’s Finn.” His hand turned back to his friend.

Said man was warily eyeing the two of you, worried that the other's approach would send you back into a crying fit.

“Whatcha doin’ here?” He asked casually, rocking back and forth on his heels as if this were just a conversation about the weather.

There was a moment's pause, only to be filled with the sound of you sniffling once before answering, “M-my parents left me here.”

The two men automatically stiffened, barely even daring to blink or breathe as they absorbed the information. They had left you- a child- in a cargo wing all by yourself. On purpose from the looks of it.

Finally, they were able to share a glance and a swift nod of a head, coming to an agreement without actually opening their mouths.

“How would you like to come with us?” The man before you asked, looking into your eyes as he said so, “We can help find you a nice place to live.”

You seemed to ponder the question for a moment, though so far you had no reason not to trust the men, then you nodded.

-•-

Finn and Poe had brought you back to their ship immediately after finding their designated cargo, the former going to fly the ship while Poe opted to stay in the back with you in fear that something may happen to you.

“So,” Poe started, looking across at you sitting in the too-big chair with the too-big safety strap, “Tell me about yourself, Y/n.” You had already told him your name on the way to the ship.

You rolled your eyes slightly, crossing your tiny arms over your chest, “My parents left me in a random cargo room, what more is there to know?”

He couldn’t help but allow his jaw to drop a little at the sudden confidence and sass you had, so unlike the shy and scared personality you had adopted when he found you.

“I mean interests and stuff.” He clarified, still bewildered.

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” Then your eyes stared at him judgingly, “Let me guess… you’re a pilot?”

He scowled, “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Is it supposed to be a good thing?”

His eyes narrowed, “I think I’m starting to like you better when you’re quiet.”

And much like the child you were, you stuck your tongue out at him.

Not long after that, the ship descended until it came to a halt upon touching down on land.

Finn came into the room and you quipped, “The landing could have been smoother.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked back and forth between you and his friend accusingly, “You were alone with her for one flight! How can she be so much alike you already?”

Poe couldn’t help but grin slightly at those words, looking down at you and thinking about how you were beginning to grow on him.

Padawans 🧡- @spidyyparker @fabulousapple @femalemarvelself

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #star wars x reader platonic #star wars #star wars x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #Poe dameron x reade platonic #finn #finn star wars #sw #finn x reader

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bluiex · 1 year

Note

sorry this took so long, look at the bottom text for more info here finally is some clockers mafia au, im still very brainrotted about the clockers but it’s summer and i’ve become a potato lmao

possible TWs for child loss, cannibalism, child abuse/neglect/abandonment, death/murder, tag if you think i missed anything important!

—

Cleo’s not had an easy life, she knows that. She grew up dirt poor, she never got what she wanted because she couldn’t afford it. She got to comfortable with her streak of luck. She joined a local mafia at 15 and slowly rose up the ranks till she could practically make her own, which is what she planned on. Then her dream came true, she got pregnant. It was her dream to raise a family, give her children everything she couldn’t have when she was younger. But the world was cruel.

They walked through town numbly, they had been in the wrong place in the wrong time and had been exposed to something awful. Their skin had partially rotten and exposed bone in some spots. Their heart no longer beat, the doctors saved her sure, but they couldn’t save their baby. And due to their undead state, they could never have children as well.

The sky reflected her mood. It was dark and gray, showing that showers would soon spill. Some people in the streets showed fear at her zombified state and other showed compassion as they knew she was pregnant before the accident.

They were walking past the window of a hat shop when they felt the slightest shift of their back pocket where they kept their wallet. They instantly snapped up, they would not let their wallet be stolen it had the only ultrasound photo they owned.

She snapped around and saw a slight blur or white hair disappear around a corner to an alley. She silently crept around and peaked in, expecting a petty thief or a rival mafia but what she saw shocked her instead.

It was a small child, couldn’t have been more then 7. He was thin and malnourished, with a birthmark around one of his eyes making it look like he had a permanent black eye. His hair was white and choppy, his skin tanned and eyes a very dark brown. He was looking down through the money in the wallet counting it.

They fully stepped into view of the alley and cleared their throat in order to get his attention. His head quickly rising up fear apparent in his eyes. He started walking backwards arms in front of him trying to sputter out an excuse. Cleo felt awful, he was so young and frail, he shouldn’t have to steal to survive.

“Hey, hey, calm down, hand me back my wallet and I’ll buy you lunch alright? We’ll just talk, just give me back my wallet kid,” she said, careful to not spook him. She had her arm extended with her palm up so he could put the wallet there. He stopped walking and looked back and forth between her hand and the wallet.

He took a tentative step towards them and they stayed as still as they could so he wouldn’t be scared. They felt a bit bad for treating them like an animal but they didn’t know what else to do.

Slowly but surely the child moseyed over and carefully placed the wallet back in her hand. Cleo smiles gently at the boy and checked to make sure the picture was still in her wallet. Upon seeing it she sighed in relief snd held it to her still heart.

“Alright buddy, how about we go to the diner, they’ve got a little bit of everything,” they suggested holding their hand out for him to grab other hand putting their wallet with the photo safely away in their pocket again. The boy nodded eyes lighting up as he softly gripped their hand. The feeling of a young child holding their hand and trusting them made them almost start crying.

They both made it to the diner, on the way she learned his name was Bdubs, but she decided to wait till they sat down to ask him anymore questions. They walked in and the hostess told them to sit anywhere. Cleo decided the best spot would be a booth in the corner, it was well lit but allowed for some air of privacy. The menus were already on the table so she picked hers up just to not make the kid feel uncomfortable, she already knew what she wanted.

“You know how to read right?” They asked suddenly realizing he might not.

Bdubs scoffed and crossed his arms “Of course I do, I’m 9!” he responded in an adorable annoyed voice.

Cleo gasped and said “Your 9? I thought you were like 7!”

“Nope! 9! Nine-o!” He says proudly.

“You realize that means 90 right?” She asks an amused smile on her face as his falls.

“I said I knew how to read not that I was good at math…” Bdubs grumbled as Cleo noticed a waitress coming over with a little note pad.

“Welcome to Fre- oh my goodness Cleo! I almost didn’t… recognize you… Cleo what in the world happened?!” The waitress said trailing off before bursting out in question. They shrunk back mood suddenly darkening some before saying “I was in the wrong place, wrong time, doctors saved me but now I’m, well a zombie,” they said looking away in shame.

“Oh my goodness thats awful! I can’t ima- wait,” there it was. “What happened to her?” The waitress asked eyes suddenly fulling with horror and a bit of pity.

“Who’s ’her’?” Bdubs asked looking between the two confusedly. The waitress looked a little surprised by him, as though she didn’t realize he was there but then quickly turned back to Cleo.

“…I was pregnant and when I turned I lost her, my little girl… I never even got to meet her…” Cleo took a shaky breath in, it still hurt to even think about let alone speak about. “And now because I’m undead, I can’t get pregnant ever again…” she felt a cold tear drip down her equally cold cheek. Her hands shook the menu they held, and you could hear a light rattling from the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“I’m so sorry again, I know it won’t make up for it but I can pay for your meal?” She asked putting her hand on Cleo’s shoulder gently.

“No, I told the kid I’d pay for him so I’m going to pay for him, plus I know you’ve been saving for over a year now to go on that vacation, you make way less then I do,” Cleo replied giving her a sad smile. “Speaking of, kid what do you want to drink?”

Bdubs looked back at the menu uncertainty and mumbled out “Just a water.”

“That won’t do now will it, what do you actually want Bdubs? How about a milkshake?” Cleo prompted making him light up with hope.

“Can I get a strawberry shake?” He asked face full of happiness that made Cleo’s sadness melt away.

“Of course, and I’ll get my usual unsweetened ice tea,” They said turning back towards the waitress who quickly scribbled it down before rushing off to tell the chefs.

“Alright, so you’re name is Bdubs and your 9, what else? Do you have any parents slash guardians or are you an orphan?” Cleo prompted sitting back in the booth crossing her arms as Bdubs looked up at her from behind the menu.

“I’ve been by myself for a bit now, I don’t know how long though,” he answered almost shamefully.

“I’m guessing that means you don’t have a home, where do you sleep?” Cleo asked leaning forward again propping themselves up by their crossed arms on the table.

“Box, its got a pillow I found behind a home goods, but most pillows places throw them out they slash first so it’s kinda dirty and feels permanently damp cause i don’t have a replacement,” he explained looking away a bit ashamedly.

Cleo mumbled to herself about needing to ‘chat’ with them about that before saying “Well,” she turned her face gentle and caring as Bdubs looked back at her face soft with his childish curiosity and innocence. “I could give you a place to stay, living with me, you’d be free from the streets, have food, shelter, water, ect, BUT before you agree you need to know the danger,” Cleo continued before quieting down as the waitress came back over with their drinks. Cleo watched as Bdubs lit up as he sipped the milkshake a savored the sweet taste.

“What danger? You got a rabid dog army or something?” he joked between sips of his milkshake.

“Are you aware what the mafia is? You might also know it as a mob or gang,” they asked squeezing the lemon on their cup into their iced tea.

“Oh yeah! I used to watch a show that had the mafia, they like beat people up and take money right?” Bdubs said innocently.

“They do more but thats the gist, you aren’t aware clearly but there is a mafia in this town and I’m one of the highest members in it, if you lived with me, you’d be agreeing to have a permanent target on your back, letting me teach you how to use knifes and guns, probably needing to accompany me to ‘meetings’, I will let you live with me and raise you but you would still be in danger likely the rest of your life,” Cleo explained slowly letting Bdubs soak it all in, his face was blank and she explained.

“But you would protect me?”

Cleo hesitated, glancing down at her stomach then up at the young boy in front of her “Yes, with my life.”

“Cleoooooo!” Bdubs called out drawing out the word.

“Yeah Bdubs? I’m getting changed!” Cleo called back from inside their room on the second story of their house.

“You promised me you’d take me to the pizza place with the good garlic bread this weekend! Well its Sunday, so we better get that pizza!” He called back huffing at Cleo forgetting about that.

“Oh but bud there were some people I needed to go see, haven’t paid their dues in like a month, boss is getting angry,” Cleo replied opening her door and heading n down the stairs to the living room where Bdubs sat arms crossed.

“You said this week, last week, just let me come with you then we can get pizza after!” He said with an air of finality to his voice.

Cleo sighed kneeling down to put their shoes on “It’s one that might get violent, you sure?”

“Yes. I want pizza,” Bdubs answered standing up from the couch and walking towards Cleo.

“Alright, let’s go, they have a kid a bit older then you actually, maybe while we chat you can chat with him, I think he’s homeschooled though,” She informed grabbing Bdubs hand walking them out.

“Come on open up, your just making it harder for yourself we just want our money,” Cleo said knocking on the door as Bdubs stood behind her looking around bored, he’d been to many houses and apartments during his year of living with Cleo, they all start looking so bland.

“Ugh that’s it I’m coming in,” they said trying for the door handle and predictably, it was locked. “Kid, can you grab my clock?”

When Cleo first took him in he mentioned this golden pocket watch he had always seen in a shop window and always wanted but of course could never even come close to the amount it cost. At that Cleo that night went out and got them matching ones. Cleo then ‘spruced up’ hers so that it had a compartment with a lock pick in it so whenever she needed it she’d have a completely non-suspicious place she kept one. Bdubs thought it was brilliant.

He reached into his pocket where Cleo requested he keep it and handed it to them, watching as they skillfully picked it as though it was the key.

“Alright I’m coming in lets keep this peaceful,” She announced walking in with Bdubs in tow. They got to the end of the entryway and right as they reached the doorway leading into what Bdubs assumed was the living room Cleo’s arm shot out to try and block Bdubs view as she screamed “Don’t look!” But it barely covered his face and his own curiosity got to him, so he looked around it.

Laying on the floor surrounded by a puddle of dark red and gore was two people. Adults, clearly the people that owed his mo- Cleo’s people money. But they were covered in the same dried red, and were missing large chunks of their bodies, as well as desperate claw and bite marks.

Then Bdubs looked up slightly and saw, him. It was a kid, only a few years older then him. He was standing behind the bodies looking terrified, but not of the bodies, of Cleo. His hair was brown and messy, his body littered with small scars that were covered currently by the same red, on his hands and his mouth. Then most curiously his ears had a point to them, the tips of his clawed fingers seemed to glow blue slightly, and he had frail torn up looking light blue transparent wings behind him.

“Oh my gods… kid, did you do this? Are you a vex hybrid?” Cleo cautiously asked, Bdubs didn’t know what a vex was but he was more then a bit scared.

“Okay… okay, this is your parents right?” The boy nodded slightly. “Okay, so you did this to them? You ate them?”

“….starving.”

“Huh? What did you say?”

“They were starving me, I begged for food but they would just hit me and lock me in my room, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ate,” the boy said, taking long pauses at different points his clear fear fading slightly as he spoke.

Bdubs watched as Cleo’s hand in front of him balled up into a first shaking at how tightly they were clenched. They took a shaky breath to settle themself before speaking again.

“Alright, alright… first off, whats your name kid?”

“…Scar.”

“Okay Scar, this is a bad situation, if the police find you like this, you are going to be arrested, hell possibly even killed, but I think I know how to save you, you just have to agree to come with me and do exactly what I tell you, from there you can live with me. I don’t want a kid going to prison, especially because your only crime was awful parents, will you trust me Scar?” Cleo said cautiously, tenderly reaching her hand out as an invitation. If theres one thing Bdubs learned during his time living with Cleo it’s that if possible she will never involve kids in crimes or violence, she’s always super hesitant to let him even pickpocket someone that they need to take something from even when she’s trained him perfectly.

“Trust me Scar, she’s really kind, tries to avoid wrapping me up with her job, protects me whenever she can, never hits, starves, yells, you’ll be safe, she can protect you,” Bdubs said reassuringly figuring he would trust him more as he was around his age.

“Alright, I’ll go with you, what’s your guy’s names?” Scar said hesitantly taking Cleo’s hand swallowing nervously.

“I’m Bdubs, shes Cleo, welcome to the clockers family!”

“The cockers?”

“CLOCKERS!” Cleo screamed in surprise causing him to flinch a little before he giggled.

Suddenly they became serious, “Okay kid, we need to thoroughly wash around your mouth and inside, remove your finger prints from anything incriminating mess up a closet like you were hiding in it, then follow what I tell you, we have a short time span for this.”

—

Bdubs gripped Cleo’s hand worriedly as she took a deep breath grabbing the doorknob turning it and opening it before waiting about two seconds and as loudly and blood curdling as she could screaming turning and clutching Bdubs.

Very quickly neighbors ran out to see what happened and she started screaming to call the police, that they were dead, blood was everywhere, it’s awful, ETC. They played their part beautifully, sobbing and clutching Bdubs who tried his best to act terrified and crying, the police quickly came and ‘discovered’ Scar hiding in the closet, he followed what Cleo told him to do and the police were none the wiser, they also lied about what had happened, claiming he and Scar had a play date set up but had to be rescheduled due to work and when they came they found them dead on the floor, no clue as to what/who had caused it.

Eventually the police agreed to let Scar go with them as he had no other documented family and was ‘clearly traumatized’ they returned to their home and all breathed a big sigh of relief.

“I’ve never had to lie that much in such a short amount of time jeez, alright, I need to talk to the boss about this Bdubs show Scar around, get him settled, pull out the extra mattress, we can work everything out later.” She said patting Bdubs on the head with a tired but sincere smile walking off.

—

screw it this is going to take forever im making a fanfiction so have this, might expand some of this to make like the first two chapters but i feel bad it’s took so long

have a good day bluie and anons i have a headache im going to go stare at the ceiling

-🍞

AAAAAH LOAF THIS IS SO WONDERFUL. I LOVE THEIR BACKSTORIES also take all the time you need dude please don't rush yourself or feel the need that you have to get this done anytime soon- we cna all wait!

#bluie gets an ask poggers #long post #clockers mafia au #ficlet #tw mention of child abuse

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fullscoreshenanigans · 9 months

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I have a sad headcanon. The mothers aren't forced to stay after have brought the children to the gate. They can return to the house and let the children with the demons. Isabella make the choice to stay and watch everything until the end because she considers that she must stay until the end, that she can't abandon them at this moment after have took care of them for years. Also a part of her see that as a punishment. She is accomplice of this system, she chooses to live by sacrifing those children. And the most important is that she LOVES them. So she stays until the very end because she feels she deserves to suffer and that she must stay at their side until it's over.

Norman and Emma have seen Isabella spoke with the demons. It's because they are used to see her since it has been 12 years, almost 13, that she is doing that so their discussion seems to show that she is as much cruel than them.

And she seems to be indifferent and cold because 1) no way she show weakness to demons (and that's useless anyway) 2) she is horribly used to it so acting cold is more easy after all those years 3) closing her heart in those moments is the best way to doing that without breaking. 4) we see that she kept the toys of all the kids as precious memories. She could send it in another orphenages and forget about it but no. She kept all of those toys.

So i'm pretty sure that it deeply hurt her to see them die, but she watches it because she feel she deserve to suffer and must see everything because looking away would be even more betraying them.

(Really both the mother and the son are masochists :/)

is this even a headcanon it's canon as far as I'm concerned

There's the little room off to the side where theoretically a Mom can excuse herself to avoid having to witness the gupna ceremony. Maybe they claim they need to grab one last thing or sign some paperwork before the child can be driven off to their new foster home. "It won't take long. Wait in the truck, dear, I promise I'll be back in a minute."

Isabella's a queen at compartmentalizing though, so maybe she views staying until the very end, as she stresses to Emma and Norman in chapter 25/episode 8, as her bi-monthly penance for sustaining her life as long as she can.

I like to think after childbirth Isabella was granted the mercy of having some time to recuperate instead of immediately being thrust into being a Mom so it's less than twelve years (as general practice and because of her amazing potential becoming the youngest Mom in Grace Field's known history, you'd think a few months to avoid any potential health risks and finalizing her transition to plant #3 would be a worthwhile cost for headquarters), and because I'm a masochist, I like to headcanon that Ray, Norman, and Emma were the first children raised solely by her and not overlapping with the previous Mom of plant #3 (excluding the child who arrived between Norman and Emma who was unfortunately shipped out at some point before turning eleven), so I see her arriving at plant #3 sometime during November or December of 2033.

Still, that's roughly a decade of going through this with a minimum of sixty children, not counting any children Ray potentially caused to be shipped out early with his experimentation with the tracker deactivator. She might not have done it with the first few, maybe thinking it was potential evidence that could be used against her as an indication of weakness, but eventually it does amass to quite a collection.

(S1 Episode 6 | Chapter 17)

#naehja #The Promised Neverland #Yakusoku no Neverland #TPN #YnN #FSS Asks #FSS Chatter #Pre-Canon #TPN S1 #Introduction Arc #TPN 001 #TPN S1e01 #Escape Arc #TPN S1e06 #TPN 017 #TPN Isabella #YnN Isabella #Isabella 73584

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steele-soulmate · 4 months

Text

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 575, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication

WORDS: 1381

I watched affectionately as Peter conducted his interview with IT rock! magazine’s Louie Bluefield, a young man with a blue mullets and sporting a kilt and a pierced lip. The kids had wanted to be practically on top of my husband, which he welcomed with a laugh.

I was busy feeding Baby Teddy, his itty bitty baby fingers entangled in my red curls as Slizty played with Baby Eve’s feet, making silly faces at her and talking to her in a soft voice. Baby Mattie and Baby Jojo were both in my husband’s arm, a plastic cup of red wine in hand with little girl perched in his lap. Baby Tommy was sitting on his foot with Elizabeth and Elle and Katie and Jing on either sides of him, the kids all clearly happy as a bed of clams.

“Word on the street is that you recently finished that album that you’ve been teasing everyone about! Can you tell me a little bit more about that?”

“Certainly!” Here, Peter took a sip from his alcohol before continuing on. “The album will be called The Story of Us and it will be a mismatched compilations of songs that I wrote in dedication to my wife, our family, and our robust love for one another. The artwork for the cover I’m thinking of being my wife’s angel wings tattoo on her back and then my hands splayed out over her as I crush her in tighter to me.”

This was new information- I had absolutely no idea that my soulmate had finished that album and I quickly found myself wondering when he would start to produce it.

“JESUS FUCK LITTLE GIRL-!”

My heart leapt into my throat as little girl reached up and grabbed at her Papa Pete’s cup, yanking it down to her where she got a generous drink.

“No no no no no no no no!” Peter was clearly panicking as he swiftly passed off the other babies before standing with the four almost five year old baby in his arms. “Come on now little girl- we need to go to the bathroom and have you puke up that nasty drink!”

HIC

Little girl went from looking absolutely proud of herself to seasick in under a blink of the eye. I followed close behind, ordering Elizabeth to look after the kids as I followed Peter off to the bathroom, where little girl was beginning to fuss.

HIC… Wah… HIC… Wah… HIC Wah… whimpered little girl before erupting into a sudden WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC

“My love, do you want me to get in touch with James?” I asked him, whipping my phone out from my back pocket and calling up the retired French circus performer.

“Hey Mary Claire! How are things?”

“Hey James, there’s really no easy way for me to tell you this but-” I took a step out from the bathroom, where little girl was busy being violently sick over the toilet. “But little girl will defiantly have one hell of a morning hangover tomorrow.”

“Do I want to know what happened?”

“Well, little girl decided that she wanted a drink from her Papa Pete’s big kid cup!” I broke over, shuffling aside for Slitzy to enter with a seal water bottle.

“Well let’s not hope that Vanessa Rose will turn into an alcoholic like my Uncle Jared.”

“Oh, I don’t think she likes alcohol,” I winced at the sight of poor little girl puking up her guts, Peter behind her with her braids in his hand and he gently rubbed her back. “Poor little girl.”

Little girl continued to alternate between hiccups and screaming-

Katie then appeared next to me, her soft brown eyes concerned as she shifted from foot to foot.

“Mommy?” she meeped, accepting Baby Teddy from me and settling him up over her shoulder so that she could rab and pat at his back. “Is little girl going to die?”

“What? Oh no, mo stór,” I said as I righted myself once more, my cell phone now wedged in between my shoulder and ear. “She’s going to be just fine, although- my love, do you think we should take little girl to go see Ryley?”

“Hey Pete!” Kenny interrupted us because- of course he would interrupt us. “Intermission is just about over and-”

Peter whipped his head around and sent him a feral snarl, which made the smaller man coward away from the hulking father.

“My love, why don’t you go out and finish up the concert?” I asked him, entering the bathroom and nudging him out of the way before I took his place behind little girl. “Let mommy take care of her little girl!”

“You sure sweetheart?” he asked me before backing out of the small bathroom and leaving me to fuss over the violently sick little girl. “Katie, can you kill the lights for me please?”

“Okie dokie daddy!” She immediately went for the light switch, plunging the small bathroom into absolute darkness as I began to hum softly.

“Little girl, little girl, little cutie pie,” I sang. “Little girl, little girl, mommy loves you.”

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… HIC

“I can make a run out for some saltine crackers, okay?” Slitzy offered before trotting off to go ahead and do so.

“Gramacy!” I called out in a quiet voice before returning back to mothering over one clearly sick little girl. I trusted Slitzy to grab her things that would help her- it was one of the major perks of having someone who would go out and grab whatever was needed in a heartbeat.

Jeremy “Slitzy” Skookra was a good man, a goofy man who stumbled around life cussing and getting bruises alike, but he was a good man. a good man who always took time out of his busy schedule to teach Elizabeth and Katie about managing the Type O Negative social medias, who would step in to hold the three littlest babies while I took a much needed nap, who would play a game of I Spy with the older babies and who always greeted me with a pleasant smile.

And so Slitzy returned when Peter was ten minutes from ending the show, carrying a bulging Wal Mart bag.

“An eye mask and earplugs to keep her comfy, a bottle of baby Aspirins, a bucket for her to puke into while you’re driving off, a jumbo pack of baby wipes, a child sized toothbrush and bubblegum flavored toothpaste, a new t-shirt just in case and a box of saltine crackers.” He looked quiet pleased with himself as I dressed little girl in the eye mask and earplugs, pressing sweet kisses from mommy onto her little head.

“Gramacy, Slitzy,” I smiled up at him. “You are seriously the best.”

Mo stór, my dear, Irish Gaelic

Gramercy, thank you, old French?

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