#its an honor to tell you the light of hope has returned to my soul | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosemaze-reveries · 2 months

Text

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you. (Part 2)

hello hello! here is part 2 as promised. there are less characters than I hoped to write, but in exchange each blurb is a little longer than pt.1 !

part 1 can be found here

🦌🪼🤡🦎🪞🤕🕯️🎭

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🦌 Bane rubs his chin, tracing his memory. "Hm... Indeed, I'm familiar with that name. I'd suppose that's someone I knew when I worked for the DeRosses." He crosses his arms with a low, contemplative grunt, as if struggling to remember anything else. "I'd need a photograph." I happen to have a couple on hand, and he takes them gently. A long period of silence follows. After leafing through the photos for some time, he says: "I remember. They were always talking about marriage." With you? "Mm. I was never interested, but I never said no. Eventually I made them a ring from a scrap of iron. I hoped they'd stop visiting me if I satisfied them... It's too dangerous to come to the forest everyday." Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring of his own. "In exchange, they gave one back." He's been cherishing it all this time, even when he'd forgotten its origin.

🪼 Ivy - "I'm no stranger to feeling like I'm missing my other half, you know. That sense of loss is one of the only constants I have left. (Y/N) fills my emptiness, and without them it increases twofold." I open my mouth to ask, Do you think you could be soulmates? but then my eyes dart to the Yithian and I realize my mistake. Sorry, was that insensitive? Ivy is not amused with my implication that she might be interested in claiming (Y/N)'s soul. "My dear interviewer, I am a scholar, not a monster. Whatever you're insinuating, you're gravely mistaken."

🤡 Joker's face suddenly hardens, in spite of the fragile, twiddling-thumbs demeanor he'd shown me thus far. His hands ball into shaking fists and his lips purse, as if he's psyching himself up for a fight. Are you okay? I ask, preemptively guarding myself with my clipboard. Tears brim his eyes and the strength falls from his shoulders. He mutters out, "All I wanted was to be their sword and shield, their angel of light, and they left me out of my mind. Hahaha... Wanna know the biggest joke of all? I'd let them drive me crazy all over again."

🦎 Luchino's mouth stretches into a lazy grin. "That one's a cutie, eh? Had the pleasure of meeting them yet?" I shake my head, reminding him that (Y/N) is the focus of my current investigation. I guess his laidback attitude fooled me into saying too much. He promptly straightens his back, the smile fading. "Yeah... Yeah, from one researcher to another, I get the intrigue," he says. "But I can't say I fancy another guy using my love as a test subject."

🪞 Mary - "Do you take pleasure in nosing around a lady's private affairs? I'd expect more tact, even for an interviewer." The chill in her tone startles me. I sputter out something in my defense, but Mary huffs and waves me into silence. "(Y/N) is enjoying the privilege of being my right-hand. They're my favorite one so far, too. I dismissed the others without a second thought."

🤕 Naib - "On good terms." Wringing out any insightful answers from this man is tougher than I thought. In hopes of inspiring more of a reaction, I tell a small lie: When I interviewed (Y/N), they described a rather colorful affection for you... Almost immediately, Naib breaks eye contact and crosses his arms. But I still only get a guttural "Hm." in response. Can you confirm if this is true? I press. His answer is, once again, a curt "Hm." (Slightly more affirmative, I would say).

🕯️ Philippe - "My work has always stood as a testament to my love," he caresses the wax figure grafted onto his shoulder, "but shielding someone in life is a far greater challenge than honoring my losses. My worries are endless." Suddenly reminded of his sister's tragedy, I offer a sympathetic smile. Do you believe (Y/N) is in danger? Philippe returns my smile, though I can't make out the intent. "Of course. Evil lurks around every corner. At the very least, it won't reach them while I'm around."

🎭 Sangria - A fond smile graces her face as she recounts her memory. "It was clear to me after some time that I had disastrously entranced them." Then she adds, lightly, "I hadn't meant to, of course. At the time, I thought, I'm not looking for love—no, I'd had enough of it all—but soon, their smile would appear in my mind every time I sang. When someone gives you that much inspiration? You'd be a fool to let them go." She has a playful tone of voice, but I can tell (Y/N) means a great deal to her.

#SORRY FOR THE DELAY 😭 did not mean to disappear for a month oml #identity v #idv x reader #identity v x reader #bane perez x reader #ivy x reader #joker x reader #luchino diruse x reader #mary x reader #naib subedar x reader #philippe x reader #sangria x reader #idv imagines

288 notes · View notes

rightpastnowhere · 1 year

Note

ALSO! Watercolour

SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE the adhd got to me for this one aich. yikes.

i’ve discussed so much of this au!! i hope none of these points are rehashes or things you’ve heard before, i tried to dig into my brain for new things :))

caution - this post contains major spoilers for campaign 1, only in bullet point 5 though. so if you’re here from the animated series, please be aware of that!!! :)

send me an au (either one of your choosing or one from this list!!) and i'll give you 5 headcanons

1. tattoos around/over soulmarks are a touchy subject in this version of exandria, and attitudes are typically decided by individual cultures. some believe soulmarks to be sacred, and as such consider any markings that mar them, such as tattoos or scars, to be unacceptable. these cultures usually require protective coverings over soulmarks for this reason. some cultures encourage tattoos that incorporate soulmarks, as a way of honoring that bond. most cultures, though, acknowledge that not all soulmates turn out to be wonderful and kind, and most allow soulmarks to be covered by tattoos or made a part of a large design in order to hide them, or reclaim them. not many allow the skin to be removed or burn as a way to get rid of the marks, but some do. it’s controversial.

2. on the topic of scars - usually, if the skin from part of a soulmark is torn or lost, when the skin grows back, the soulmark color will still be there, but slightly faded. almost as if some of the mark was taken from the surrounding skin to fill in the new. however, if the entire section of skin is removed, or if that area of skin is burned off, the mark does not return upon the new skin growing in. however, a new mark will be left the next time that soulmate touches the person’s skin.

3. soulmarks aren’t quite solid color. they shift in different lighting, they take on different shades in the morning and evening light. they shimmer a bit when the light hits them, they glint like sun on the water or early light though the dew drops on leaves. they also warm a little when touched, especially so if the person who left them brushes their skin back over it. not enough to be a shock, really, but mostly a comfort - unless the person has a bad relationship with that soulmate. the feeling they get is usually affected by their opinions and thoughts towards that individual.

4. soulmarks only fade if the person who gave it dies, not necessarily if the person who bears the mark dies. it’s a little piece of soul left behind. it never fades completely, but it often ends up looking more like a bruise or a bit of splotchy skin than a mark. it loses its luster as well. the fading process is slow, usually taking a few years to get to that state, and upon resurrection of the one who gave the mark, it will slowly fade back to its original brilliance. (mostly. it’s honestly hard to tell, but the mark will be slightly duller. however, the next time that person comes into contact with the mark they gave, the full brilliance will be restored.)

5. going off the previous one, but actually talking about the characters this time whoops. when vax goes with the raven queen, his soulmarks on the others don’t actually fade. since he’s not actually dead, and his soul still exists, despite the plane difference, the continued existence of his soul ensures that the marks stick around. they might change, though. i’ve been pondering it in my mind. we shall see :)

#i LOVE this world it’s so fun to think about #thanks for giving me a reason to word vomit #essayofthoughts #watercolor au #vox machina #critical role #ask meme

9 notes · View notes

tooweirdforyou · 3 years

Text

How The OP Boys Say “I Love You” To Their S/O

How You Know He Loves You- idk man

A/N : enjoy.

includes » Ace, Sabo, Luffy, law, Sanji, Zoro, Marco, Rosinante, Kid, Shanks, Mihawk, Katakuri, Izo, Koby, Cavendish,

Summary : the boys’ own way of saying “I love you”, with their own words and ways. Or, how you know he loves you.

? Wait did I do this before? I don’t even know. also these aren’t GREAT, but they aren’t HORRIBLE. Yk? Honestly tho, some of these seem like they’re all over the place, which yes, they might be. UGH IT WAS SO HARD THO.

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy loves you like an adventure. Everything is new and always fun to try with him, and no matter what happens, you don’t ever regret it, because you’re doing it with him.

He’s persistent in staying with you everywhere, he wants to do everything with you. He tends to invite you ( by pulling your hand ) to do crazy things with him and away from the others so you’re alone.

He’s always showing off his skills and stupidity in order to make you laugh, because your smile is the best thing he’s ever seen and giggles are the beautiful sound he treasures.

His actions are genuine when he holds your hand and pulls you to his side all the time, with the warmest, loving grin.

Luffy always makes sure to remind you to never give up hope.

“Let’s go on an adventure together, [Name].”

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro loves you like you’re his one and only. No one has priority over you, ( except maybe Luffy ), and you will always be his, if you’ll let him.

Zoro is not a man of many words when it comes to his own emotions and feelings, so he shows it through his actions.

He always has an eye on you, so wherever you are is where he ‘sleeps’ so he can keep you close, his swords at his side to protect you from danger, ( but he knows you can handle yourself. )

Zoro is the perfect person to lend a comforting shoulder and ear. He will listen to every single one of your problems intently and if he can, will offer the best advice you’ll hear, even if it’s a bit harshly. However, whatever got you so down, Zoro will bring you back up.

Zoro is always reminding you that you are strong, no matter how tough things get.

“Oi, come take a nap with me. I could use a body pillow.”

Portgas D. Ace

Ace loves you like a gentleman, respecting boundaries, bowing to the elderly you pass by together and always ready to pick you up for your date at seven, bouquet of flowers in hand.

If Ace is good at anything, it’s knowing how to distract you with a good time. He knows the best way to bring a beautiful smile to your lips and can easily make sure to avoid the thoughts that brought you down in the first place.

He’ll share stories that will make you die of laughter or feel so wholesome that you literally melt at how sweet it is.

The few times he expresses and shares his insecurities to you, something he hides within him because he trusts you enough to do so. He loves your understanding and comfort for him.

Ace always reminds you that you’ll be okay, even at the worst times.

“You are the light of my life.”

Chief of Staff Sabo

Sabo loves you like a prince. He holds the door for you, takes your hand so you don’t fall, has the most charismatic smile on his face and is just so charming.

Sabo will remember the littlest things, the smallest details that you yourself don’t even know until he reminds you, and because of this, you are often gifted the most memorable and cherishing gifts, like the scarf you two bought for your perfect snowman, to the necklace you were staring a little too longingly at on display.

He’s always busy, but he doesn’t hesitate to drop whatever he has just for you. He will run through fire if it means you’ll stop crying or if you’ll be happy to see him. You are his lifeline, his soul, his love.

He may not know how to properly cheer you up like his brothers can, but he knows that he wants the best for you. If you need space, you got it. You need some tender loving cuddles and buckets of ice cream while watching Disney movies? Vanilla or chocolate ice cream?

Sabo reminds you that you deserve happiness and peace.

“Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.”

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Law loves you like you’re his savior, someone who’s always there during his time of need and insecurities, by his side when he needs you most.

He’s a little blunt and straightforward occasionally, but he’s honest somewhat. He won’t ever tell you his feelings until he deems it the right time, but you can tell he has feelings by the change in treatment.

He’ll keep you closer to him, making excuses by saying that he needs you to help him with the supply run, or that he needs your assistance with a particular menial task.

He’s awkward and shy about it at first but he cares and that’s all you need to know. Especially once you catch him during one of his weaker times, the anniversary of a particular someone rolling around, where he’s locked in his room. He needs you beside him, so please don’t leave him when he needs you.

Law reminds you that you are human, that it’s okay to be vulnerable.

“Just stay here with me.”

Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji loves you like a god/goddess. He will treat you with the utmost respect and care and offers you everything you could possibly want or need, just say the word.

His genuine, endless daily compliments are given to you with pure love and passion, his daily refreshments and snacks to keep you energized and hydrated keeps an eye out for your health.

He makes sure you know the true meaning of flattery, chivalry and love, because that is all he can show you.

However, under that chivalrous exterior, is his calmer, understanding loving self, where he shows his true self and when he finally shares this side with you, where he holds his insecurities, it’s the true honor and love you can receive. And it’s even better, when you become the one who loves for him in return during this time.

Sanji reminds you that you deserve to be and are loved.

“You are my world, my everything.”

Marco The Phoenix

Marco loves you like a married couple who grew old together, still playing jokes and having fun to life’s fullest, no matter your age.

He’s constantly lecturing you for the smallest things repeatedly, since you always seem to forget. His lectures lack any annoyance or malice though, he’s just kind of done with you sometimes.

Nonetheless, he’s taking care of you more than you think, always the first one there whenever you need help. He’s always prepared for whatever you need so you don’t have to look for it and get worried.

He’s stern at times but he loves you more than you could ever know, often questioning himself whenever he’s beside you. He half-lidded eyes watching you with warmth and admiration because you always look so determined.

Marco always reminds you that you are free. To live life to its fullest and however you wish.

“Let me fly you to the moon.”

Donquixote Rosinante

Rosinante loves you like a husband, he treats you like his wife, either you or him welcoming each other home after being gone for so long and greeting each other with a loving kiss each time.

He knows just how tough things can be and as much as he tries to make things right, he knows how bad situations really are and no matter how much he wants to cry or get angry, he always holds a smile, in front of you. To assure you that things will be okay.

He gives the warmest hugs, and knows that, so whenever you’re angry or sad, or just randomly at times, Rosi envelops you into a large hug, waddling you back and forth a few times, you feel instant relief and content, which makes him smile.

His priority will always be you, even if he’s hundreds of thousands miles away, he will find his way back home to you. He surprises you with the littlest gifts; being flowers, jewelry, candles, or more.

Rosi will always remind you to smile, even during the hardest times.

“I will protect you.”

Eustass Kid

Kid loves you like a game, it’s unexpected, unpredictable of what will happen and it’s exciting and thrilling. For you both, one wrong move, and the other is gone for good, but perhaps, second chances/rematches are available.

He can be brash and a bit much, but Kid has high respect for anyone who actually makes it onto his crew and can actually tolerate him, you included.

He’s loud and wild but that only makes it part of the fun. With such a short fuse, as long as you play your cards right and pick your moments to bite back, it’s kind of fun knowing how dangerous it can be with a guy like Kid, and he also loves it equally, because your feistiness is attractive.

Being a bad bitch that doesn’t play by the rules is so incredibly attractive and Kid knows how to reward and punish so tread carefully. ;) however, he has his down moments and as annoying he can be, he does appreciate the effort you give if you try to comfort him. He’ll be harsh about it but eventually, he just wants you to be with him in the end.

Kid reminds you to rebel, take risks and enjoy the thrill of getting in dangerous situation every once in a while, breaking a few rules doesn’t hurt anybody. Most of the time.

“Don’t fucking ever leave me.. okay?”

Dracule Mihawk

Mihawk loves you like you’re an empress, only the finest and highest quality for you, nothing else can compare.

Mihawk will buy you the most expensive dress that suits you, with an equally expensive matching jewelry to go with. Not to mention the heels, and, tch, how could he forget the roses you require? Despicable.

As much as he loves to show you off, he despises the stares of awe and admiration you receive whenever you go out, so his possessiveness takes over and he has an arm around your waist at all times, successfully showing you’re taken and to back off if they don’t wish to be cut into oblivion.

He trains you to handle yourself, obviously, you should know at least some basic skills. He’s not too hard on you but does push you to keep going until you truly wish to stop. It’s only because he’s worried that one day, he won’t be there and won’t be able to protect you.

Mihawk reminds you that you are a queen/king, a strong person who shall hold your ground and never back down from fear and show your bravery.

“Come here, mi amor.”

Red Haired Shanks

Shanks loves you like you’re his future. It’s an unknown journey, but he’s there for the ride and whatever may happen, he’s there staying and won’t be going anywhere, unless it’s with you.

The red head is a goofball, he drinks, parties and messes around but he is an incredible captain and genuine to a fault. So when he expresses kindness, it is purely from his heart and not out of manners.

He is extremely playful and yet when down to business, he is calm, collected, and cool. He knows just what to say in tough situations and great comforting advice, so he’s the one to go to when you’re feeling down. And as laid back as he is, disrespect to those he loves is the one shit he won’t take.

He’ll hold you close and with his signature grin, compliment you and tell you how much he appreciates you and as soon as someone lays a finger on you, his hand is on the hilt of the sword and he waits three seconds for an explanation before he cuts them down. No one messes with his beloved.

Shanks reminds you of loyalty. To always protect and care for those close to you, and keep that built up trust and bond you created with them.

“Trust me. I won’t let go of you.”

Charlotte Katakuri

Katakuri loves you like you’re glass, he’s careful, protective, cautious and treats you like you’re fragile, because he’s afraid of hurting you.

He’s larger than most, he’s aware of that, so he always takes the precautions to be aware of his surroundings, especially when you are around. He wants you safe and he will be devastated if he is the cause of your pain.

His large stature is a blessing to you though, because cuddling is so comfortable and comforting, it’s amazing. You can curl up and relax and just be at ease with him, because he’s so protective of you, even from his family members. He often keeps you away from Cracker and Perospero, in the slightest chance that they try to take you away from him.

He’ll be extremely heartbroken if Big Mom doesn’t approve of you, but his love for you is stronger, so he’ll keep it a secret if he has to but eventually, he’ll pray and wish for her blessing, asking the help of his siblings to convince her.

Katakuri reminds you of family, that even friends or crewmates are family and love you all the same.

“I will be here for you.”

Captain Koby

Koby loves you like a typical high school crush. He’s all shy and blushy, and evidently embarrassed when the pretty one at school is talking to him, ( that’s you. ).

He’s like the wallflower type, who tries to blend in but somehow, he sticks out in a way that lures you to him, like he’s hit the jackpot.

He is incredibly sweet, and his shyness is so adorable. You can’t help but coo whenever you see his red cheeks and soft smile of care he offers.

Always helps you with everything, will take the blame whenever you get in trouble, takes the suffering and pain when guys try to mess with you, and no matter how tough things get, he’s holding a brave face for you.

Koby reminds you of kindness, treat everyone with care and kindness, and it goes a long way.

“If you fall, I’ll be there to catch you.”

16th Division Commander Izo

Izo loves you like you’re a painting, he thinks you are true beauty, inside and out, you are a work of art, a true Mother Nature masterpiece born. One to be admired.

The type to be there. He’ll hold your hair while you vomit, rubbing soothing circles on your back while you cry, painting your nails while you complain about Ace, assure your perfection when you’re feeling insecure.

Best advice giver, holds no judgements at all. He’ll help with anything, because you need him. Romantic advice, friendship, sexual advice ;), he will help you any way he can.

He truly admires you, not because of your beauty, but your strength to be able to cry. Crying doesn’t mean weakness but rather, strength to be able to move forward even in the worst of times.

Izo reminds you that you are beautiful, no matter what anyone thinks or says.

“You are true beauty, my love.”

Cavendish Of The White Horse

Cavendish loves you like you’re a princess, and he is your handsome Prince Charming.

Every thing he does it like from a fairytale, if it involved a rather.. bit of a narcissistic Prince Charming. But he means well, because he still treats you like a real princess.

He gives you daily horseback rides, teaching you with his strong arms wrapped around yours and his black fancy hat on top of your head, as you two ride around and share laughs and memories.

And even through his big ego, he still makes sure to compliment you, tell you how proud he is of you and how much he truly admires you for your strong will and determination, because he really does love you. More than you know.

Cavendish reminds you that dreams can come true, sometimes it just takes a leap of faith and effort.

“I will treat you like the princess you are and deserve to be.”

A/N : 15 fucking people and having to think of different things while I’m distracted is so HARD. 😭 please tell me you enjoyed though ;-;

but did I do this already? God I can’t remember a thing, especially since I still haven’t updated my masterlists- and I’m terribly sorry if this really is all over the place ;-; also apologies if this is repetitive for some of them! It really is difficult yk ;-;

3K notes · View notes

lucytara · 3 years

Note

Yeah I get wanting some variation in your writing and whatnot. Hmm.

Gold. "I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her." Bumbleby.

Have fun!

it’s possible. that i went. a little overboard with this prompt.

"I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her."

All four candles are lit in the corners of the small room, wicks burning purple and melting black wax. Her offering sits in a dish at the feet of the small statue - an old, worn piece of paper, bent and torn around its edges - and she herself kneels in the center of the floor, her hands clasped.

“I’ve never done this,” she begins, “but my name is Yang Xiao Long, and I humbly request an audience.”

Nothing happens, though she isn’t sure what she would’ve expected even if it had; the flames flicker with her unsteady heartbeat, the blood in her ears crashing as if waves in a storm. For some reason it’s embarrassing, calling on a higher entity who decides to put you through to voicemail.

She tries again, and aims for theatrical exaggeration; maybe the gods like a bit of a show. If she’s making a fool of herself, she might as well do it brilliantly. “O, Great Goddess! I call upon thee - All-Knowing Ruler of the Dead, Empress of the Night, Most Holy Lady of Darkness, Reigning Queen of Entropy--”

“I think that’s probably enough,” a voice comes from in front of her, amusement evident beneath its tone. “What was that one in the middle? ‘Empress of the Night’? I might keep that.”

Her head whips up towards the sound, and a woman in a deep purple cloak is leaning against her own statue, arms crossed and watching her performance with a look that can only be described as shameless delight. Gorgeous black hair framing golden eyes, like the sky wrapping itself around stars; the statue doesn’t do her justice.

“Oh my God,” Yang says, sitting back on her heels. All the preparation and rehearsing she’d done isn’t enough to conquer the shock of a beautiful, unearthly woman appearing in front of her and--

“Yes, I get that a lot.”

--mercilessly mocking her.

“Well, Yang Xiao Long?” the woman continues. “Why have you called upon me?”

“How do you know my name?” Yang says stupidly.

“I’m a god,” the goddess replies, a smile pulling at a corner of her mouth. “I’m the all-knowing ruler of the dead or whatever. Also, you said your name when you summoned me.”

“Fuck,” Yang says, struggling to regain her composure and failing spectacularly. “I - yeah. Right. Okay. Is it rude to swear in front of gods? And what do I call you?”

“I’ll allow it,” the woman says. “And you can call me Blake.”

“Blake,” Yang repeats; her hands open and close like a nervous tick. The name is a heavy weight in her mouth, settling her into steadiness. “I’ve come to request guidance.”

“Guidance?” Blake repeats, and gently lifts the note from the offering dish, turning it carefully around her hands without opening it to read it - she doesn’t need to. Yang registers faint surprise in her expression; yes, she’d assumed the sentimentality would fetch a rather large price. “This is quite the payment.”

“It’s the last note I have from someone who loved me,” Yang says. “I figured it would be sufficient.”

Those bright, inquisitive eyes glance over to her, and now the playing field has been reversed: intrigue and curiosity outweigh Yang’s atrocious initial delivery.

“Stand, please,” Blake commands softly. “I want to get a good look at you.”

Obediently, Yang rises to her feet, and with an odd jolt realizes she’s a few inches taller than the goddess. It’s unexpected, and it seems to unnerve Blake for a moment, too. Or maybe that’s the candlelight, throwing shapes and colors, turning the room cavernous. Maybe Blake is shrinking and she’s growing. Maybe once she was so tall the entire world trembled beneath her feet.

“You already have power,” Blake says, circling her curiously, and now she’s seeing what isn’t visible, looking for handprints on her soul. “You have been claimed. Whom do you answer to?”

“I didn’t receive this power from a god,” Yang says quietly. “I’ve had it as long as I can remember.”

“That’s impossible,” Blake says, and her gaze is piercing into Yang’s heart; she sees its strength, but she sees its scars, too. And its emptiness. There is plenty of that.

“Touch me,” Yang says. “You’ll find no prior claim.”

“I don’t need to.” Blake takes another step closer to her, the way you’d inspect a painting in a museum. Hands at her sides, cautious of glass and rope. “I can see your aura. But it’s impossible.”

“I’m looking for something,” Yang says, and Blake glances up, briefly meeting her eyes. “I don’t know what it is. But I’ve been looking for something for what feels like my entire life.”

Quizzical, now. One by one the candles are burning down. The room is collapsing in on them, or perhaps that’s simply the god in front of her, looking like she’d dive into Yang’s veins and unravel her if it were permitted.

“Why me?” Blake asks finally. “You know what I’m the goddess of, don’t you?”

“You guard death,” Yang says, her voice impossibly gentle; dusk flows river-like from her mouth. There is a world Blake can almost see. “But you can’t guard death without also guarding life, right? I don’t know what I’m looking for, but whatever it is, I imagine you encompass it.”

“Poetic,” Blake responds, and waits further. “I would like the truth, please. Our time is running short.”

There’s no point in playing games with gods. “The truth is stupid,” Yang says bluntly, and the corner of Blake’s mouth tilts again.

“Try me.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Yang says, and Blake’s eyebrows raise in amusement. Bold, reckless, and absolutely pushing her luck to the furthest corners it can inhabit. “Accept me as yours, and when the time is right, I will tell you the truth.”

“Is the truth that powerful?” Blake says, curious despite herself.

The last candle flutters, throwing shadows from Yang’s eyelashes to her cheek. “I think it is.”

“Welcome back, Empress of the Night,” Ruby says upon her return to the Kingdom, giving her an exaggerated bow. “I hope you enjoyed your summon, My Lady of Perpetual Darkness.”

“What the hell was that about?” Weiss asks. “I haven’t even heard you crack a joke for, like, a millennia, and suddenly you’re the court jester?”

“She was amusing,” Blake says, shrugging. “Usually people are so timid and terrified. I felt like having some fun.”

“You?” Weiss says dubiously.

“Shut up, Weiss,” Ruby says. “You mustn’t speak that way to Our Patron Saint, Duchess of Death.”

“Now you’re not even trying.”

“Don’t you both have work to do?” Blake says, ending the interrogation before it can really begin. She’s not sure she’d have the answers for them, anyway.

Yang journeys east.

Find me again, Blake had said. The closer you get to my temple, the more I can see of you. She’d brushed aside Yang’s bangs, touched a single finger to her forehead. It felt like a teardrop, or a meteor shower. It felt like digging up a grave, or chiseling into stone. It felt like the last explosion. It felt like the first breath.

You are mine, Blake had said, and something about it had felt far too right.

She crosses from Sanus to Anima, spends days traversing forests and mountains, fending off bandits and monsters. Eyes flashing red and fire licking up her skin. Aura glowing golden before breaking. There is something wrong with the trees, she thinks; there is something wrong with the sky. Like I’m looking at them from the wrong side.

Nobody is there to answer her, and not for the first time, she wonders how she came to be so alone.

Blake watches Yang’s power unveil itself from above. Yang is hers, now, and though she can’t make house calls to the world below without a summon, she at least has instant access to her claims. There aren’t many of them, and Yang is different.

It reminds her of the God of Vengeance, almost - how he absorbs power before returning it, strike by vicious strike - but Yang’s is personal, sacrificial. She feels the pain before she can utilize it, and her anger is never cruel, her actions never misplaced. And she doesn’t complain.

Sometimes, Blake wishes she would: she can hear when she’s being talked to, even if she can’t respond. Every prayer, every curse, every devastation, every hope.

She waits for the sound of Yang’s voice, but it never comes.

There’s a small shrine in a village called Shion, which is still weeks out from the docks where she can potentially get a ferry to Menagerie, but the locals are kind, and honor her far too greatly for being touched by their ruling god. They direct her to their place of worship deep in the woods, and leave her without looking back. It’s a sacred thing, a bond between a god and their chosen, and law forbids them from watching her ceremony.

Yang pulls the candle from her pouch, lighting it at the foot of the shrine. She kneels down on the stone, worn with the imprints of a thousand prayers, and says, “Blake.”

“I was wondering when I’d hear from you again.” The voice comes almost immediately, as if its owner had been waiting to be beckoned.

It’s still a bit of a shock, though she’s much better prepared for it this time. “Hi,” Yang says, and stops there before she can fuck it up.

“Hi,” Blake says, and seems to be amused against her will. More guarded, less open. Yang can read the warning signs, but she’ll cut them off at the source.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it, getting to her feet. “If I waited too long to contact you, I mean. I’m...not familiar with this area.”

“Don’t worry,” Blake says, lowering her arms. “It’s only been a few weeks. I won’t smite you until at least a month.”

Yang laughs, and unexpectedly to the both of them, Blake goes deadly still. Her body language says Yang’s done something wrong, but her expression says she’s hearing music.

The candle is burning. The moment can turn itself over gently, if Yang knows how to guide it. She keeps her smile on, but makes it quiet. “You know, I didn’t expect the Goddess of Death to have a sense of humor.”

It seems to work. “I like to surprise people,” Blake says, and moves closer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You never talk to me,” she says, pretending to be in control of something she clearly isn’t. “Why not?”

Only the forest speaks for a moment, branches creaking, leaves rustling. And then: “Do you want me to?” Yang asks.

“It’s...something people tend to do,” Blake says slowly. “But not you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Yang says.

“It’s not a bother.” The words come out too quickly, tone too reassuring. Blake’s own want is what laces the conversation, rather than Yang’s uncertainty. That’s a new, dangerous line.

Yang takes a careful step forward, her eyes lowered to the ground as if in apology; they raise slowly, trailing over Blake’s form until meeting her gaze. Looking for lines she’s crossed, and should step back over; searching for lights that say go. Instead, she only finds an intense, hungry confusion - I want it without understanding what it is.

“You know,” she murmurs, “these statues - they never do you justice.”

And she lifts a hand to Blake’s cheek, hesitating over her skin - is that Blake’s catch of breath, or is it the wind? - before gently cupping it in her palm. She could lose an arm for this; touching a god without being explicitly asked is the greatest sin a mortal can commit, but Blake only stands there, unmoving, eyes wide and lips parted, the moon sitting in the hollow of her throat.

“Blake,” she whispers, and it can only be a god’s strength keeping her voice steady, “I’m never not thinking of you.”

The candle goes out.

Nobody is waiting for her when she returns. This is how gods give each other gifts - by saying, no, I see everything but I didn’t see you.

Yang starts talking to her, and changes her routes so that rather than taking the most direct path to Menagerie, she’s able to stop at some of the smaller shrines on the way. There are only two more, and she hasn’t called Blake since Shion. Yang hopes she’ll still come.

“Isn’t it strange,” Yang says, “how much easier it is to think about someone than to talk about them? I think about you differently than I can talk about you. I don’t even know if that makes sense.”

No response; not that she expects one. At this point, she assumes Blake’ll just kill her if she gets too annoying. Maybe a tree will fall on her, or she’ll do something embarrassing like trip over a rock and break her neck. “I can’t remember much about my life. I know there were people I loved, but I can’t see their faces. I must’ve traveled a lot; I don’t like sitting still. I don’t know how old I am, or even when my birthday is.” She’s never admitted this before; never admitted she came to lying on the ground, with only her name left ringing in her skull and a note in her pocket.

“I think you’re beautiful,” she tells the warm night air. “That’s what I was trying to say. Before. Blake, I think you’re beautiful.”

A star shoots across the sky, light trails leaving imprints against the swirling blue-purple-black of the galaxy, but it must be a coincidence.

Another shrine, another candle. This one burrowed into the side of a mountain, a dome of a room with a hand-woven rug for kneeling, several long benches behind. The statue sits against the far wall, centered.

“They’re getting better,” Yang says, getting to her feet. “This one, at least, gets your eyes right.”

“Hm,” Blake says, pressing her lips together. She moves to stand next to Yang rather than in front of her, and they both examine the statue together. “I suppose you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Were the compliments too much?” Yang asks, impressed with how light her voice sounds. She nudges Blake’s elbow with her own. Oh, she’ll see how much distance she can cross. She’s already walked miles - she’ll swim oceans, too. “You said you wanted me to talk to you.”

“I didn’t say that,” Blake denies unconvincingly, and then pauses. “And in regards to your first question - I didn’t say that, either.”

Yang could tease her - so even gods like being called pretty, huh - or she could be brave, turn to Blake, take her face in both of her hands and lean in--

“Yang,” Blake says, and does step one of that plan by turning to her. “What do you want from me?”

Maybe the idea’s overwhelmed her to the degree that she can no longer see its risks - its potentially horrible, literally life-ending consequences - and that's what drives her to do it. Maybe it’s that Blake is looking at her like a poem; something beautiful, not to be understood by anyone but the artist who made her.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” Yang says, as if it were merely an interesting, hypothetical concept to explore and not the end of the world. “Is that possible, even if you wanted me to?”

This room is warm and close and silent. The clay is cracking where the floor meets the walls. A tunneled-through skylight is the only thing that keeps Blake from swallowing the place in shadows, instead coating them in an amber, dream-like glow. Like if you mixed the two of them together, you’d still be left with light.

“I think,” Blake murmurs, “we’re both going to have to find that out.”

Step two of her plan. Both of her hands cupping Blake’s cheeks. She’s strangely aware of her lifelines - do they mean anything to you, she wants to ask, does my life mean anything to you now and if it doesn’t, will my death - she leans in, their noses brushing, Blake’s breathing as if she needs to, Yang isn’t and she does; teach me about magic, teach me about memory, tell me how I knew you before I knew myself--

Blake kisses her, tired of her caution and hesitancy, lips parting and fists knotting around the fabric of her shirt. Yang expects them to crash together, like comets. She expects them to crumble and collapse under the impact, buried in the ruins of each other and suffocating. She expects them to decay there, reveling in their own destruction.

What she doesn’t expect is sunlight.

Her skin set aflame, Blake’s tongue in her mouth, hands traveling from her face to her lower back and pressing close - somewhere a rule is being written about the gods and desperation - Blake pulls away, gasps, her fingers begging for Yang’s heart.

“This power,” she says, mesmerized, staring at things only she can see, golden gossamer roots running up Yang’s veins. “Where did you get it?”

“I don’t know,” Yang breathes out, and kisses her one last time before the candle burns out. “But I swear I’ve never felt closer to finding out.”

Nobody attempts to stop her from barging through God’s door. Weiss and Ruby, Sun and Neptune; they all avert their eyes. I see everything, but I do not see you.

“What is she?” Blake asks, standing before them with her head bowed. “Please, God. I need to know.”

“If you weren’t already sure,” God says, “you wouldn’t be here.”

She hates it when they’re right.

Yang hits the docks; situated on the outskirts of a fishing village called Ito, and with constant transport to Menagerie, their shrine to Blake is the largest one yet.

“And this one?” Blake asks, before Yang has even begun to pray.

“How did you do that?” Yang says, staring up at her, startled. “Are we, like, super close now?”

“Shut up,” Blake says, but she’s smiling. She extends a hand, helping Yang to her feet. “Your soul calls me. You barely even have to light the candle, anymore.”

The sound of the ocean knocks on the door; the smell tackles the windows. Above, the seagulls are crying out, angry at all the fish they can’t have. Yang says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Blake says, and kisses her. Soft and chaste. Something so human and so immortal. “I missed you.”

“I’m your favorite, aren’t I?” Yang teases, her fingers catching Blake’s chin in her hands.

“No,” Blake says, and for the first time, smiles with her teeth. Oh, this is happiness. “I do this with everyone who requests my presence. I’m very popular.”

“I can imagine,” Yang says, brushing a thumb across her bottom lip. “So what else are you the god of?”

“You had a few of them right,” Blake says nonchalantly, settling against Yang’s body. She could be taller, if she wanted to be, but there’s so much beauty to see when looking up. “Night, and all things within it. Darkness, shadows. Death.”

“What else?” Yang says, watching her mouth shape every letter.

“Forgiveness, and justice,” Blake murmurs. Oh, there’s a fine print for this, and she’s violating every word. “Promises,” she continues. “Seduction.”

Hook, line - a heavy wave rattles the walls; oh, the sea, the sea! - Yang shudders against her mouth, salt sinking into her blood. Leaves her bouyant and floating, the earth bubbling up beneath her. Rising and rising and rising.

“Shockingly,” Yang says, letting Blake press kisses into the crook of her neck, “I don’t find that hard to believe.”

“God,” Blake finds herself standing before them once again, hands clasped and head bowed. She speaks formally in the presence of God, as is customary of respect. “Please, God. I am supposed to be guiding her, but I fear all I’ve done is lead her astray. I need to know where she came from, and where she is going.”

“Blake,” God says, and touches the top of her head with their hand, “she is close to your temple. Look at her, and tell me what you see.”

Menagerie is a busy, populated island, and Blake’s temple is the primary reason for that. Pilgrimages are made from around the world to pray at her shrine and leave offerings at her feet. Protect me from loss, help me navigate my grief, let me fulfill my promise.

Yang is none of those things. And when the keepers of the temple ask the reason for her journey, she says, “I am in love with her.”

“You have been touched,” one says, and bows to her upon entry. “You have as long as the goddess is willing to give you.”

The heavy doors close, but the room shimmers, firelight glittering over golden-accented walls. A large moon is carved into the marble floor, crossing over a sun. Before her is the largest, most intricately carved statue of Blake she’s ever seen, and it looks exactly like her.

Yang kneels.

“You know,” Blake says from behind her, “you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“No,” Yang says. “But it - it’s been a long journey. And I’m only here because of you.”

Blake’s footsteps echo, her boots stopping at the north point of the sun. “How do you feel?”

It’s enough to make Yang smile. “I know you heard me,” she says pointedly, but her amusement is apparent. “You hear everything I say.”

“I thought I’d give you the chance to tell me yourself.”

For the last time, Yang rises to her feet. Blake’s eyes glitter, mischievous and playful. She looks as she always has, but clearer, somehow; defined and resolute. She carries the truth in the way she extends a hand, in the way she searches for Yang’s mouth. When they kiss, Yang swears she can see another world.

“I’ll tell you something better,” Yang says. “The truth.”

She leans down, bumps their foreheads together. Blake’s arms loop around her neck automatically. Oh, Yang thinks, if I were the god of anything, I’d want it to be habits.

“So what’s the truth?” Blake asks.

“The truth,” Yang says unshakably, “is that it was you. I woke up with no memory and a note, and somehow, I knew I had to find you. The only thing I’ve been searching for is you.”

It’s you, she says. It’s you. You. You.

“God,” Blake says, and this time God is ready for her.

“Blake Belladonna,” God says, and inclines their head. “Come. Show me what you have.”

In her hands is a small slip of paper, worn and ripped around the edges. “It is a note,” she says, and unfolds it gingerly. “It is a note, God, in my handwriting.”

“And what does it say?” they ask.

“Find me,” Blake recites, “and I promise I’ll bring you home.”

“Well,” God says whimsically, “you are the Goddess of Promises.”

Tears build in the corners of her eyes, shipwrecks gaining water. “Yang,” Blake whispers, and now that she is close, she can see everything. Meteors falling from their showers; the day the sun went out. “Yang. I’m sorry. I’m so, so--”

“Shh,” Yang murmurs, pressing her lips into Blake’s hair. “What are you apologizing for? I found you, and you brought me home.”

“Oh, this is exciting,” God says. “I so rarely get to come to Remnant on business.”

“God,” Yang says, and bows her head. The temple doors remain locked; Blake’s hand is clutched tightly in her own. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” says God. “You fell in the last war, over five-hundred years ago. Do you remember this?”

“Yes,” she says. “I was trying to protect my sister.”

“And what happens when a god falls?”

“We forget them,” Blake says. “Their power is forfeit; they are erased from our memories, and our world.”

“It is not a law of justice, but a law of reality,” God says. “Or it was, previously. Only you did not forget immediately, Blake Belladonna. I did not know it was possible for two souls to be so intrinsically bound that they leave traces in the other, but you did not forget, just long enough to leave her a message. It took five hundred years for Yang to fall to earth, and when she awoke, she did not forget, either.

“Gods are made, and this means that what we are gods of can change,” they continue. “Blake, you were not previously the Goddess of Death. You became it because you believed that Yang had died, and no god had as strong a connection to loss as you. Your power became a beacon, just as it now will be a beacon for Remembrance.

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” God says. “Goddess of the Sun, of Loyalty, of Sacrifice. You were many things. And now you are the Goddess of Rebirth.”

#Anonymous #bumbleby #rwby fic prompts #rwby fic

647 notes · View notes

babytaes · 3 years

Text

†hê Ðêmðñ (the beauty of sin)

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You're a guardian angel who's never been tasked with protecting anyone. Since you've been here since Creation, sitting around in heaven hasn't brought you any rewards. You were looking forward to the day when you'd be assigned a human to look after. When that day finally arrives, things take an unexpected turn when you are assigned to Heeseung, a demon from the underworld.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: heeseung x female reader

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst, suggestive/smut

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 4k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: profanity, smut scenes, bad boy heeseung (lol),

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

Sin is a spiritual virus that invades the whole being. It makes you morally and spiritually weak. It’s a deadly disease that infects every part of you: your body, your mind, your emotions, and your motives—absolutely everything. Nobody has the strength on their own to overcome its power.

Nobody should ever commit sin, never giving in to their worldly and sinful impulses. It's unjust and wrong. However, what is it about sin that makes it so fascinating and enjoyable?

It gave you joy to see it in his smile or the way his hands caressed your body. What a lovely thing sin is!

Even though some sins are innocent and enjoyable, sometimes regulations are supposed to be broken. Everyone, after all, is a sinner.

“WHAT!?,?” You began to sweat as you worriedly communicated your concerns to your overseer, “You must be mistaken, High Lord.”

“I understand the protocol; angels are supposed to serve as "guardian angels" to beautiful or broken souls on Earth. You know we're expected to look after them and keep an eye on them to make sure they stay on track. With all due respect, ma'am, I don't believe I'm qualified for this position; at the very least, someone of level 10 would be ideal.”

Her cream-colored wings swept her off her feet as she chuckled and waved for you to follow her. You sighed as you flutter up and away with her, trailing behind her, feeling a twitch in yours.

As you eventually caught up to her, dodging angels left and right, you apologized to random angels in your path, uncomfortably smiled at the people you bumped into with your wings.

You retracted your wings closer to you and walked uneasily beside your overseer as you carefully stepped down on the golden road.

Before you could say anything, she quietly took your hand in hers and gently kissed it, assuring you that everything would be alright. As you approached the center of the commotion, you bit your lower lip and remained silent.

Looking around at the community, it warmed your heart to see so many people, young and old, out here. Some you've known since the beginning of time, while others were born only last week. Everyone had gathered to witness the masterpiece that would emerge in an instant.

“You know Y/N I have complete faith in you that this first expedition will be a breeze,” you smiled, looking up at her with excitement and a tinge of fear in your eyes. “We wouldn't have suggested you for the job unless we knew who you really are, and you've earned it.” Don't worry, you were expecting this; now have a look.”

With her finger pointing to the stage forward, you were treated to yet another spectacular show. They're known as the "Grand Turning" in Heaven. This is where a new or seasoned angel has completed his or her training with a human or demon and earned their proper place in the community.

It could be a badge, a ribbon, or something more unique, such as the opportunity to talk with the all-powerful, our God.

Despite the fact that you were assigned to him, you were determined to get those jobs because they were the only way for you to ever get that honor. You weren't going to allow Mr. Unperfect take away that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Nobody could and will ever be able to make you fail this assignment; you were meticulously prepped. You were taught the correct and only way to do things, and now was your opportunity to shine. You were not going to be a Lucifer, cast from Heaven

“I'll do it,” you said to your supervisor, a smile on your face and confidence in your eyes. She turned to face you and hugged you passionately, rubbing your wings with a motherly devotion.

“I knew you could do it; now it's time to get you ready.”

---

When people have a near-death experience, they always remark that life flashes before their eyes. Unfortunately for angels, it's the contrary; when we're approached with a high-alert danger or warning, it's more of a gentle whisper in our ears. Normally more attentive while traveling to Earth.

The best place to be humans say.. What is with these fickle minded words?

You take a deep breath and turn to face your overseer, who is polishing her wings to ensure that they are kept in order. When having wings, a routine is taught from the beginning to keep them in a good up do. Nobody wants to look simple when you can look stunning.

She took your hand in hers and walked toward the end of the route, issuing some documents to the Pearl City Gate guards. You noticed the circular orb while glancing around.

"How can some humans believe in the world being flat, we literally have an air-like view. To me, it's definitely round.” She chuckled as she pinched your cheeks and turned your puzzled face to her.

“When you get down to earth, you'll see a lot of that, people with a lot of opinions. But what did you learn in your training?”

Standing up and smoothing your wings, you calmly shouted out the words as if they were written on the back of your palm.

“Although humans are the destroyers of their own precious planet, everyone's opinion matters, regardless of race, gender, or identity.”

“Well, not all,” you began scratching your head, “I've seen some harsh individuals in our study books, God should strike them down-“

“Um no ma'am, let us put it aside for the time being and focus on what needs to be done.” She started going over a list of laws and regulations for your descent to Earth. As you gave her a thumbs up, you were attentively listening and mentally bookmarking everything in their designated area.

I believe I have a good understanding of everything, and I think I am prepared.” She offered you a short hug before letting you go, showing her affection for you. You were going to miss her, despite the fact that it was a mutually-surface relationship.

“Last but not least, this ordeal will be different in that people will be able to see you. But if you have to use your wings, the lad is the only one who can see you. When you arrive, he will be waiting for you. My child, best of luck and may God bless you.”

You let go of her and moved toward the road's edge, gripping your bag as you turned to face her and waved farewell as you stepped over the brink.

“Wait a minute, what if-“

When you felt a push from behind, you tumbled off the ledge and spun around in the sky, where you saw a smiling face as you glanced up. They didn't tell you that you'd have to be pushed. As you plunged to Earth, you closed your eyes, terrified. Oh, how nice.

Screaming, you descended into the atmosphere, your narrowed eyes seeing glimpses of land here and there. Not letting up you let your wings cover your whole body as you plopped down onto soft green grass.

You peered out from your wings, gasping for air, and glanced up.

“Oh, Heavens”

His physique was slender, active, and well-groomed, with a trace of bad boy behavior in his scent. The first thing that struck your eye were the rips in his jeans. How could a man-made mistake seem to be so appealing? As you raised your eyes, you noticed tattoos splattered across his arms and up to his neck. His black velvet-like wings fluttering in the breeze, he raised his palm to his hair and stroked through the old curls, deconstructing the pattern they had once formed.

“Did you just pull a Lucifer or was this all planned?” he coughed as he put out his hand to you, taking a good look at you.

Stuttering in your words you quickly got up and patted yourself off and finally looked him in the eyes, noticing his dark eyes.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen, I hoped to fly down here and appear more Angel-like, but I think my overseer had other ideas.”

He said, "Ah," with a bored expression on his face.

“My name is Heeseung, and if you don't mind, I assume you don't.” I guess my name is well-known in Heaven. You're probably the fifth Angel who has appeared in the last year to “assist me.” What a load of bullshit; you can't hide what's already there, you know.”

He made a pouty look as he smirked closer to you before covering his hand with his mouth and saying, “oh forgive me, I suppose I have a potty mouth.”

Panicking at this new light, you smiled and coughed loudly and suddenly, “Before you say anything else, I'd want to inform you that I'm not like those angels we don't talk about. I have a holy standard that I adhere to.

He rushed to your face, rolling his eyes at your innocence, and murmured to you, "well see about that little Ms. Purity."

As you moved back and shook your head, spurring out prayers, you tugged the strings of your bag close to you, seeming irritated. Looking up, you noticed him hovering in mid-air with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

“Whether you're coming or not, I'm in the mood for a cup of coffee. Allow me to go fetch you one so that this whole ordeal between us may be over soon and we can both return to our respective worlds.”

You instantly snap open your wings and shot up into the sky, scoffing at his rudeness, and dash by him, racing to the left.

“It's this way, dummy,” he cackled as he immediately shot out. Embarrassed and annoyed, you flipped over to his side and flew alongside him, praying to the Lord for peace as your rage subsided.

“Lord, so help me”

---

“So, what's on the agenda, Ms. Purity? There are a lot of things I'd want to do with you. You know, if you just ditch this whole act, we might be able to have some fun. He winked at you as he sipped his drink while peering across the table.

You shook your head and chuckled, gagging at his remark, "You must get all the girls, you appear really, what's the word, competent" I'm astonished since I assumed everyone down under was inept.”

He smirked and crossed his legs as he lay startled in his chair, cocking his head to the side. It's not that you were trying to be mean; it's just what you were taught. There are no hard feelings.

“Well, as much as I'd like to keep this delightful little date going, I have a commitment to fulfill. You know, duty calls.” You quickly got up and hurried after him, confused as to where he was going, as he shot up in the air and chuckled, waving farewell to you.

“Wait, Heeseung, you can't just go away like that. We need to figure out how I'm going to find you. You're being impolite by getting up and leaving.” You made yourself look insane since you didn't realize no one could see him. You wouldn't want to be labeled as one of these Earthlings.

You beckoned him down, mentally terrified, “Please can you just come down for a damn second.” Your jaw dropped as you hurriedly covered your mouth. Heeseung's jaw dropped when he appeared in front of you, stunned.

“Gasp, I'm hearing a term I'm sure they don't say in Heaven. Hmm, I suppose the Earth changes people.” He went closer to your ear, his warm arm bouncing on your skin as he giggled, his lips inches away from yours.

“I've already entered my phone number into your phone; you do understand what a phone is, right?” Doesn't matter, I have to get somewhere, and you can locate me later. Okay, I'll see you later.” He swept up in the air and rushed over to the bridge as he vanished into the horizon, rushing out in a haste once more.

You sat back in the coffee chair, wiped your brow, and focused mentally and spiritually, pleading with the Lord for help and forgiveness. You had a feeling this mission was going to be a disaster.

Whining, you threw your hands in the air and sat face down on the table, groaning as you realized this trek. It's no surprise that these honors are well-deserved; it takes a lot of effort.

You cautiously lifted your head and faced the barista after hearing a soft tap on your table. She smiled at you as she set down a piece of paper. You scowled as you inspected the weird set of paper.

“What a jerk, he didn't just leave me to pay for both drinks.” With a shake of your head, you reached inside your bag and drew out a wallet. Your overseer informed you that many people like flaunting and spending their money, so she provided some for you just in case.

As you cleaned up, you began to mentally map out your route through town, mentally picturing the locations and navigating your way home. As you walked over to the cashier, you handed her some money and thanked her before heading out the door.

At the very least, you landed in a fantastic location. It was in the heart of South Korea, and the city was called Seoul, a wonderful metropolis to be sure. You were taught to master specific languages for specific tasks, so communicating wasn't a problem. Despite the fact that you were new in a strange place, you were determined to make the most of it. The first step was to return home and examine the situation.

How to manage Lee Heeseung.

Arriving at your small abode was an adventure in itself; it didn't take long for you to connect your GPS and get going. It was actually fairly pleasant and provided a change of scenery to enjoy. It's not quite Heaven, but it's still lovely. When you finally arrive at your destination, you look up to see a little, charming apartment in front of you.

They really went all out for you, and it's very much in your style. You'd felt right at home as soon as you stepped inside, as it was more modern and sophisticated.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, but it felt good to have your own little place to do anything you wanted. You could get used to this, no wonder why humans never leave their house. Who would want to leave when you have everything here. Food, entertainment, and a BALCONY!!

As you finished exploring the apartment and basked in its magnificence, you laughed to yourself as you made your way to the couch, sinking into its coziness as sleep took over your mind and body.

*Crunch, thud, bang*

As you lurched forward, you flew up your wings in defense mode, trying to understand what you'd heard.

“Who's there? I have a weapon, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

When you hear a familiar giggle, you look up and see the attractive intruder. Walking over to you and snatching the pillow from your grasp he took your hand and pulled you over to the island where he had prepared some food.

As you took it all in, you smelt familiar scents and smiled, completely forgetting about it until you were reminded again.

“Wait, what are you doing in my apartment, and how did you get in?”

He began to remove some pots and pans from the stove while he placed some food on a platter, saying, "I have my methods."

“I'm not sure what you eat up there in Heaven, but I'm guessing it's all healthy and nutritious food.” You laughed and shook your hand in disbelief while shaking your head.

“I don’t think out of all places we would be eating so strictly. It's basically whatever you can get your hands on.. It's guaranteed to be better food than what you'll find in Hell.”

Pulling the dish away from him, you began to pick at the fries, popping one into your mouth and savoring the flavor, “not bad.”

He bowed in front of you, wiped the sweets from his brow, and returned to sit next to you, grabbing a dish and feeding himself some. As the night progressed, you told him the rundown for the next three months.

“So, despite the fact that you're definitely one of the worst jerks I've ever encountered. For this to function, we'll need to create certain ground rules.” Aiming a finger between you and him. “I'm not sure whether you've ever had to do anything for anyone else in your life, but it's all about serving people around here, and that's why I accepted this assignment. Even if you don't want to help yourself, I want to help you.”

As Heeseung shuffled around in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you, the atmosphere became tense.

“Harsh, but keep going.”

Smiling you continued as you tried to wrap your head around this complex creature.

“I understand that we are supposed to protect and guide you to do good, but it appears that we have progressed far beyond that, and we need to start at the source of your problem, which is most likely your heart or mind. What's going on in both?

As his words danced across your lips, he smirked and drew you closer to him.

“Now there's a secret.”

Smirking as your face felt warm, you cocked your head to the side and touched his shoulder before getting up and setting your dish in the sink, cleaning up as piercing eyes stabbed your back.

“I understand what you're thinking, and I've got it all under control.”

He approached you and said, "If you say so," as he put his head against your ear.

2 months later

Everything was certainly out of hand, and he was to blame. Your strategy not only failed, but it was only a matter of time until your overseer found out. And you didn’t want to end up like the last guy tossed from Heaven.

It wasn't all that bad, but who were you kidding, it was a disaster. It wasn't a major shift; rather, it was a series of modest changes. Things like accidentally cursing or hanging out with him at ungodly hours. You convinced yourself that everything was OK.

He drew you into your room and sat you down while hovering over you, gently caressing your body and kissing you.

You smiled and drew him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and bringing him down on you, closing the distance between you.

Heeseung has been on a mission to damage your "innocent demeanor" for the past two weeks. He intended to show you that it was all a charade and that no one is actually perfect. Despite not knowing what he was going to do, you were up for the challenge. That core part of you didn't take long to succumb to his immoral impulses.

What was the problem as long as you were both happy?

“Heeseung,” you say as he draws you closer to him and unclasps your bra with his free hand. As you slowly rise to assist him, you toss the material to the ground and reach for his sweatpants.

“Someone a little needy, but we are not doing that today. Today is all about pampering my lovely angel. Is it all right?”

Nodding your head, you keep an eye on him as he goes between your legs, halting at the bottom as he eyes your breast and grasps softly as your body adjusts.

“Hurry up,” you grumble as you stare at his sinister grin. As you moan, he places gentle lips along your folds, leaning down to your core. As you twitch under his touch, his finger makes a fast dive between your folds, inciting dampness.

As you whine from the pressure, your eyes flutter shut as he switches his finger out with his tongue, softly licking up your surface.

“mm, close,” you exclaim, your lips wide open as he notices your clit, tongue flicking lustfully against it. As he presses harder on your sensitive region, he laughs as you break apart under his power.

“Oh God, right there.”

“Please don't involve Him in this.” He hits a place as your high comes crashing down on you, chuckling at your reaction. Heeseung is holding you down and watching you quiver wildly as you release juice, which causes him to swallow it before wiping his mouth. As you fall onto his body, overwhelmed and still sensitive to the sensation, he pulls you up.

He lays your exhausted body next to his and wipes any excess arousal from his mouth before kissing your lips.

You both lay in a comfortable stillness for the remainder of the night, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you sign into his arms.

“Perhaps you're right; we're all just horny, messed-up creatures; I mean, even though what we're doing is completely wrong, it was fun to break the rules. My entire life has been focused on doing the right thing and being this upstanding angel. It's fun to deviate from the norm.” As Heeseung witnessed you erupt in rage, you became agitated.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, also I told you.” You both chuckled as you pushed him to the side before coming to a halt in the middle of your conversation, looking concerned at him.

“However, I leave tomorrow and I don't think I'll be ready to see you off, and this was not in my plan.”

“Shhh, I figured it out; just stick to my plan and we'll both come out on top.”

You sat closer to him, nodding your head and clasping your hand in his as you allowed sleep to take over your body.

As you may know, angels and humans have quite distinct punishments; some humans are never punished for their wrongdoings, whereas angels' actions are usually discovered one way or another.

And you were terrified that they would find out. The person who fell from the edge was not the same person who was returning back and everyone was going to know it. Just not right now, you had to maintain your composure as you approached your overseer.

As you were greeted with the overseer and some guards, you held Heeseung by his chains and whispered something into his ear.

“I see you were having a good time?” You shook your head and looked down, worried. You looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Yes, High Lord, I am aware of my error and what needs to be done in order to be purified once more. I accept complete responsibility for this assignment, but I crack him first, and we have all the secrets we need.”

As he observed you return to the opposite side with the overseer, Heeseung's gaze shifted up in fright. Fearing for his life, he flailed his wings in an attempt to flee.

“What the hell, Y/N, I thought we were on the same team.” How could you betray me in such a way?” You walked over to his trembling body and pushed him down so you were above him, laughing loudly. You patted his shoulder as you cackled.

“And they said angels could be trustworthy. I know what I'm worth, and it has nothing to do with you. Heseeung, please accept my apologies. Get him out of here.” The guards grabbed his chains and dragged him to a chamber across the room from you.

As she began to compliment you on your efforts, the supervisor wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“I'm proud of you, Y/N, even though you used some terrible techniques. I knew you'd be able to pull it off.”

You grinned joyously and thanked her for her faith in you as you looked up at her face. You cast another peek at Heeseung as she stepped forward, and he winked at you. Smirking before he disappeared into the room you chuckled at his behavior.

Everything was going swimmingly, and no one had a clue. I suppose taking over Heaven would be a simple task; if you can blow up the inside, everything will fall apart on its own.

"How could you hide this from all of us?" "Oh God, you underestimated me."

The Beauty of Sin.

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

➳ Navigate to the Maze

#enhypen #enhypen writers #enhypen series #enhypen angst #enhypen suggestive #enhypen smut #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen reactions #en-#kpop au #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen masterlist #babytaes works

279 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

What A Good Little Girl

Warnings: Non-Con, Degradation, Humiliation

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: I’ve uh,,, I did a fic. Headcanons probably would’ve had it gone out quicker but I was kind of excited to do this,,, hope you like it!! I think I’m depraved with this but I’m not totally sure!! Its hard for to be like “hm, is this heavy or am I reaching?” anyways, enjoy!

Your hands grab fistfuls of the comforter, pulling on it, desperately trying to grab onto something to pull yourself away from him. Your knees dig into the mattress, hands letting go of the cloth and reaching out to grab the linen, pulling it away, your teeth gritted and eyes narrowed, hope and fear coursing through your veins as you reach to grab the various layers that decorate the once pristine bed. You’re desperate, crying and begging, shouting until your voice is hoarse, until you’re sure that blood runs down your throat.

His hands are on you, nails digging into your bare hips, the skin ripped and blood spilled as his fingers hook into your underwear, pulling it down, exposing your cunt and your bum. Your nails drag against the bare mattress, mouth open in a scream of help with spit spilling out and making the white sheets translucent.

“Stop!” You shout, trying to dig your toes into the slipping bedsheets. “Please!” Your sobs are ripped out of you, hoarse and ruined as tears stream down the curve of your face. Your body is flipped over, his fingers leaving bruises along your sides. Hair spills in front of your face, catching on your tongue and sticking to your cheeks. “Overhaul, I’m begging you!” You spit the hair out, your mouth parted as you gasp for breath.

He’s looming above you, the sharp point of the mask poking against your nose, his knee in between your legs, the front of it pushing against your sex. His hands grasp your wrists, pinning them above you, his eyes frantic and wide.

“I love you.” You can hear the smile on his words, gracing them with a twistedness that you’ve only heard in movies. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You stop your thrashing, chest heaving and nails pressing against your palms. “Let me go. I swear, I- I won’t tell anyone. Just- Just, please-” your voice cracks, praying to any god above that is willing to listen that they would show the humanity in your attacker- “let me go.”

“No.” His answer is simple and your trashing resumes, your legs kicking out, screams tearing through the air and his knee presses further against your sex. “Shut up.” You refuse to listen to him, crying out, your wrists swirling and twisting, an escape attempt that is futile. His hand slams against your face, smushing your face lips wetting the palm of his hand. “I said-” his voice is cold, harsh and unforgiving, eyes narrowed at you- “shut up.” You let out a shuddering breath against his palm, your shouts lowering into a whimper. His hands claw, nails scratching at your chin. “I lied when I said I’m not going to hurt you.” Your blood runs cold and your body still, heart beating rapidly against your ribs. “I don’t want to but if I have to train you, then I will.” His head tilts, his eyes pushing upwards, the smile hidden beneath the god-awful mask. “Understood?” You nod to your best attempt, and his smile presumably falls. “I asked you a question. I expect a response.” His fingers press against your forehead and you hate to think of his touch on you. “I’ll ask once more.” His head tilts and you can feel the aura that oozes off of his body- it’s slimy and thick, tar-like and nauseating. “Understood?”

“Yes, Overhaul,” you whimper. You swallow the lodge that formed in your throat, teeth clenching at the pain of the raw wounds inside your throat. “I understand.”

He relaxes, the smile returning, the point of mask gently rubbing against you as if it were giving you a kiss. “I’m going to let your wrists go but if you dare to try anything, I’ll disassemble you. Don’t make me do that. I’d hate for our room to be bloodied.”

You want to vomit. Your fingers twitch as his hand releases your wrists and the need to survive wants to strike up at him but the look of his eyes make you stop. They’re unforgiving. You know that he isn’t lying. He’d ruin you in a heartbeat, in less than a blink of an eye if you even made a sudden movement. You lie still, your wrists aching and you have to ignore the urge to rub at them.

He grabs you roughly, pulling you onto your feet. Your bare body is against his, your chest against the fabric of his shirt. His hand rests on the beginning curve of your bum, his eyes, bright as the sun and golden like the blood of gods, burns into your very soul, marring you in a way that you will never be clean ever again.

He holds you tight, his arms circling around you and hands slipping around your body. His chest rises and dips, even breaths that meet your chest. His hand turns over, bringing it under the cusp of your breast, goosebumps pricking at your skin. His thumb rises, edging under your nipple, pushing the pebbling bud upwards. He places the curve of his beak against the curve of your neck. You hear a sharp inhale, his beak brushing against your pulse point, edging it closer to you, the point of it pressed close to you. When he pulls away from you, his eyes have widened slightly, head tilting at you. His arms release you and he steps backwards.

He stands in front of you, his heels clicking against the floors. “Kneel.” There’s defiance inside of you, wanting to snarl and spit at him and as if noticing that you still have that bit of urge to fight inside of you, he flexes his hand open. You kneel. Your knees digging into the floor, hands flat on your thighs. “Beg for it.”

The room is silent, unable to hear anything but your own heartbeat that echoes in your ears. “What?” You ask in a horrified whisper, hands clawing on your thighs, leaving marks in its wake.

“I want you to beg for my cock. I want you to beg for me to fuck you.” A shiver of disgust runs through your body. “I already love you but to be honest, the whole appeal of sex has never been a favorite of mine. But-” his fingers snap and you look up at him immediately- “I would like to be your first.” Your mouth opens in defiance but he raises a hand and you fall silent. “I’m aware you’ve been with women before but never with a man. I’d like to be your one and only.” Your body is filled with ants, crawling inside of you, scratching under your skin, the shiver makes your twitch, a jerking motion of your shoulder as you your mouth is filled with poison. He takes a step closer to you, the sound of metal clinking together as he undoes his belt. “You’re going to beg, and you’re going to do it well because if you don’t-” his hand grasps at your chin, smushing your cheeks together, and with a careful hand, he removes his mask placing it on the bed beside you, a face that you sure would have been beautiful if not belonging to the monster that stands above you contorts into a mess- “I’ll make sure that you feel every second of pain that I’m going to bring to you.” He releases your face and stands back up right, a tent in his boxers that shows how much pleasure he’s getting from the entire experience. “Beg for it.”

Humiliation courses through you and no matter how much you try to hype yourself up in your head, trying to ingrain the idea that if you don’t do what he’s asked of you, the punishment will be worse than you can imagine. Any defiance inside of you dies quickly, a flame snuffed out by a cold gust of wind that leaves the room devoid of light and warmth.

He clears his throat and you flinch. Your lips are dry, your tongue heavy with acid and with your eyes downcast, you speak with tremors. “Please, Overhaul.” You want him to kill you, you’d prefer it rather than anything else but a death with him wouldn’t be simple. “I- I want-” you might throw up- “your cock.” Tears burn your eyes and you’re begging for something worse than death on your knees.

“Do better.”

You bite on the inner corners of your lips. “I want to suck on your cock. Please.”

The palm of his hand burns against the side of your face, a print left of it as you curl on the floor, a hand holding you up and the other cradling where he has touched you. Your face pulls into a frown, gasping for breath, trying to not give him the satisfaction of you crying.

“I told you to do better.” His voice is cold, and when you look up at him, he’s rubbing the palm of the hand that had struck you.

You slowly come back to your original position, rising to while holding your cheek, the other hand coming to graze your pubic mound, fingers touching lightly on it to cover the intimate area. “Plea- Please Overhaul. I-” you swallow the poison in your mouth and look up at him with watery eyes- “Overhaul, I’m on my knees. Please, let me suck your cock. I want your cock so badly- I- I-” your face stings and you curve your hand to cover your mouth, the hand above your pubic drifting off to the side as you spread your legs- “I need your cock in my pussy.” His eyes burn against your body. Your mouth parts behind your palm, the hand on your thigh lifting and hiding behind your palm. The index and middle finger rest on the flat of your tongue, your lips closing around the knuckle, cheeks hollowing as you wet your fingers, sliding them out and looking at the tent in his boxers that twitches when your spit coated fingers touch at your clit. “Let me have the honor of sucking on your cock.”

He inches closer to you and you can see the tip of where his cock rests darken. “Say that you're a filthy bitch who wants cock.”

Your fingertips press against your entrance as you try to remember a previous partner, so desperate to make yourself want this. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock.” Your fingers tickle at the inside of your walls, the spit making the stretch a bit less painful.

His hand rests above your head, fingers gripping against you to force you closer to his cock, nose against the tip. “Bark for me.” His cock leaks, arousal dripping on the tip of your nose and slipping to your cupid’s bow.

Hopelessness fills you. “Arf.” Your hair knots into his fingers, a sharp tug on your scalp. “Arf! Arf!” Your fingers curl inside of you, your head lifted as he tugs on your hair. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock! I’m a little bitch just for you Overhaul! Please let me put my mouth to use and fuck my mouth! Arf!” His cock is pushed against your lips, splitting and the pre-arousal spilling past your teeth and filling your mouth with something bitter. Your fingers pump inside of you, trying to force arousal to drip. His hands curve to the back of your head, gripping your hair and forcing you further against him. “I’m just a filthy bitch! I want your cock, please! Arf!”

His cock pushes inside of your mouth, your eyes widening and squinting in distaste at the arousal that is forced down your throat. He holds himself close to you, his bills pressing against your chin. Your tongue is against his underside, the salty taste of him infiltrating your mouth and forcing you to remember how he tastes and feels.

“Move your tongue.” His orders are strict and you listen because you have no right to disobey him. Your tongue slips around him, feeling the vein that rests alongside him, the soft dip against his cockhead. “Keep fingering yourself but don’t you dare make a mess.”

Out of habit, you make a sound of understanding, the muffled voice surrounding his cock send vibrations against him. He grips your hair tighter, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, the bitter scent of his skin pressed firmly against your nose. The tip of his cock rubs against the back of your throat, a bitter taste that slides down your throat, thin and slippery that makes you feel sick. Tears spill past your eyes, sliding down to drip from your chin and land on your breasts. Nausea is heavy on your tongue, your fingers still inside of your cunt, the small bit of arousal that you forced to coat your fingers has finally dried and now your fingers are tight inside of you.

“You aren’t touching yourself,” he grits through his teeth, taking a small step further towards you. Your body stiffens and the hand knotted into your hair pulls away, smoothing over the stinging pain with a soft pet. “You know I hate messes, right?” You make a sound of confirmation with his length still inside of your mouth. Your fingers have begun to twitch, curling and petting over your velvety walls that slowly dribble with arousal. “I told you I would punish you, didn’t I? To keep fingering yourself and not make a mess? Well, you listened about not making a mess, but you still defied me.” Your body stiffens and he coos in a clincal voice, his hands slowly coming to curve to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to press firmly on your skull. “Well, consider this a lesser punishment for not listening to me. If you do that again, I might be forced to do something that you’ll regret.”

He pulls away from you, his cock slowly sliding out of your tightly closed mouth, his cockhead remaining between your teeth, more of the sickly, bitter thin arousal lands in a puddle on your tongue. He orders for you to open your mouth wider and you do so, the flat of your tongue resting on the underside of his cock and you take a shaky breath, tears still fresh and clinging to your lashes when he pushes himself forward, and you choke on your last breath.

His cock hits against the back of your throat in such a forceful manner that the only thought you’re able to hold onto coherently is that you’ll be left with a bruise. He slams to the back of your throat, holding tightly onto your skull.

Overhaul is unforgiving, holding your head to the hilt of cock, your nose squished against his groin and he stills for a moment. Your eyes water, spit running through the gaps in your mouth and his hand slaps firmly against your cheek. It’s an unwelcome feeling, the firm pat of his hand against your face, touching against his throbbing cock that pushes so deep into you that you are unable to breathe. He holds himself closely to you and one of his hand lifts, only to hammer against the other, pounding your skull closer to his skin. Tears burn their mark on the curve of your face, sliding and mixing with the thick, slimy spit that coats your shin and drips to your breasts and onto the back of your hand that is nestled into your cunt.

He pulls away, his cock bobbing with spit hanging onto him and dripping off in thick strings to the floor. It splatters against your legs and it’s uncomfortably warm. You gasp for breath, your face burning and lungs expanding with precious air. Your jaw aches, opened wide for a monster who claims to love you, who wants you pure and yet defiles you with the very body that he keeps so clean.

It’s a second of relief, the only pause you have in this nightmare of a scenario before he pushes into you once more. He swings into your still body, feeling the back of your throat with semen running down your throat. You are unable to move, your fingers slowly becoming coated in arousal that is induced by fear. The vision in the corners of your eyes begin to be speckled by black dots, your mind slowly lost as your hands curve around his thighs and nails press into his skin, a desperate attempt to be let go from the current scene that you are stuck in. He ejaculates into your mouth, spilling and forcing it down your throat even as your cough and speckles fly and land on his thigh.

Survival instincts take over and you are uncaring of any punishment that can be given by him. You slap his thigh, begging in a muffled cry to be let go. His hand hammers to the back of your skull as a warning sign, and you still, the muscles in your legs tense and you are desperate to be let go, to breath for a moment as your vision starts to grow dimmer by the second.

With a brief moment of mercy, he pulls away and you gasp for air, holding onto your chest that burns from restriction, your heart pumping madly. Your hearing goes distant as you focus on survival, unable to hear the scratching of fabric against each other, your vision blurry with tears missing that his bare legs come into view and walk away from you. You are on all fours, sobbing and begging to be let go, that you won’t speak a word of this. You trip over your words, blubbering, watching as spit that coats our chin drips to the floor, your sex hardly wet and the fingers that were inside of you moments ago are now curled into your hand in disgust.

There is a horrible brewing inside of you, whatever fight that you left in you has disappeared, leaving you a broken husk of a person that was ruined by a man. Someone so clean and orderly, respected and cared for, has made you filthy, has ruined you internally and outside, ruined your worth with an intimate act saved for lovers. You are on your hands and knees, crying and begging to be let go, acidic spit coating your tongue as you promise him that he’ll be the only man you ever love as long as he lets you go. But your words are nothing more than fuel for him to continue, evil growing deep inside of him as he saunters to you, gripping you the hair and raising you, pearls of discharge bead from his slit as he listens to your cries. He walks and tosses you onto the bed and with realization of what is to come, you sob harder and bury your face into the bed, your hands clinging to the bed sheets that you held onto so tightly long ago.

“Make sure you cry, okay?” His lips are on your shoulder blades in a gentle kiss. “I want you and I both to remember who it was that took your virginity. Remember that I claimed you.” His hands are cold as the trail down your body, his legs kicking yours open and you can feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. He enters you, and you squeal, your scream high-pitched and hands tearing into the sheets.

Overhaul is cruel, slamming his hips into yours in a telling way that he does not care for your own pleasure but is purely seeking out his own. With every thrust, he meets with a cry, your back arching and something war and slick spilling onto your inner thighs and you can only hope with a muddled mind that he’s spilled inside of you, but you know that that isn’t the case. You cry his name and it's ruined on your tongue, stuttered out and broken, filled with agony and hate, drenched in everything evil and it matches who he is.

“Fuck-” his curse is cut off by breathless laughter- “you were a virgin!” His nails dig into your hips and your fears are confirmed. “Staining my cock is pure blood,” he claims and you can hear the smile, “you really are everything good and pure.” It's a mockery to hear those words. Time is blurring and your mind is starting to escape you, leaving you there to be motionless as he uses you to his own pleasure. He grunts above you, sweat clinging to you and your tears sliding down in silent sobs. Your hand is limp as he pushes it above you, curving over you as he holds your hand. Finally, in a ruined state, you can feel his seed spill inside of you, dripping in thick, white ropes that paint you pink and white, red messily swirled inside of you.

He pulls away with a gasp and his lips are on your burning body. He picks you up, holding you close to his chest, his heart beating reminding you that he is human. Overhaul picks you up and brings you into a bathroom and he lets you rest inside the tub, the water spilling onto your feet and soon rising to your collarbone. He joins you and washes your body with the scent of vanilla and orange blossom filling the air. His lips are pressed against your face, kissing you in what should be a loving motion as you cry and turn your body into his chest, mumbling how everything hurts. His hands are gentle on your body, cupping your sex and kissing your trembling lips.

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #yandere overhaul #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki x reader #kai chisaki imagine #yandere chisaki kai #bnha imagine #overhaul imagine

186 notes · View notes

nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XX

Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XVII - - - - Part XVIII - - - - Part XIX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

“I want you to understand that what we’re going to ask of you is entirely beyond the scope of duty and therefore completely voluntary. You are more than free to refuse participation, at any point, with absolutely no consequences.”

Deep within the Healing Halls best-kept medical secret, Eights quelled beneath the full might of the GAR’s highest and most lauded Generals. Yeah I’m sure whatever they ask I’m going to want to say no. Honestly, what kind of soldiers have they been working with?

“What can I do to help, sir? Sirs?”

“I know this might be shocking, but we have reason to believe the GAR is...compromised.”

“Sir?”

Eights thought furiously. This wasn’t about the healers who were hiding them, or the Jedi his battalion never received, or the decommissioning he had escaped. This was bigger.

The General Windu spoke calmly, “We suspect that you may have been trained or conditioned at some point without your knowledge to unquestioningly follow orders, orders that would usually be beyond what you would typically obey. With your permission, we’d like to try and activate that order in a restrained environment in order to gain more information, with the hope of finding a way to help the troops resist.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. You’re just going to give me an order and ask me...not to obey it?”

General Koon nodded (General Koon! General Koon and General Windu were talking to him at the same time!). “In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s possible that the order will do more than that. The only way we believe this could possibly work” Koon glanced to the man at his side. “And we...do believe this threat is real, is if you suffer from some form of brainwashing. Activating it might cause irreparable brain damage. Activating it might damage or kill the parts of you that make you you. Even if it doesn’t- the ideal scenario is we find something- an intentionally designed tumor perhaps- and surgically remove it. And brain surgery also has its own risks.”

Eights swallowed around a lump in his throat.

“And this is something that could be going on with...my entire batch?”

General Kenobi winced. “The entire GAR I’m afraid. Every clone.”

The General of the 212th! Commander Cody’s General was here! Talking to him! Telling him existentially terrifying ultra classified intel!

The trooper stared up from bed in disbelief. If anyone besides three of most respected generals in the entire GAR (not including Buir Ti) was telling him this he would accuse them of bantha crap fear-mongering, if not outright treason. Instead he was just...outraged.

“What would the order make me...us...do?”

Windu took a deep breath. “Attack us. Try and kill the Jedi.”

“I would never.” Eights straightened up even further. “We would never betray the Jedi- it’s- never. We were made for the Jedi and even if we weren’t- you’re the only ones who treat us with an ounce of respect.”

“No one is questioning your loyalty,” the kind Mon Cal healer (whose name he had never asked for fear of getting her in trouble if this ward was ever discovered) said, obviously trying to sooth him. She spoke with heart-breaking earnestness. “The fact that you would never choose to obey such a command just makes the possibility of something forcing you to do so that much more horrifying.”

“How would something like that even get in our heads? The longnecks designed us to serve the Jedi, why... I’m sorry Generals. I didn’t mean to get out of line.”

“No need to apologize. You have every right to be angry about this intrusion, as well as any number of things,” General Kenobi reassured him, smiling sadly. “We don’t know to what extent the Kaminoans are involved with this plot. Not precisely.”

Eights nodded, clenching his one remaining fist. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need from me. I can’t let my brothers have something this big looming over them without any intel.” I’m not exactly front-lines material anymore anyway.

“Are you sure?” Mace Windu’s eyes seemed to stare into his soul. Eights stared right back.

“I am. When do we start?”

It didn’t take long to shave the soldier and connect a number of glowing vital readers to his skull. He was ushered into a chambered observation room with what appeared to be a sfaraday cage hastily built around it.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready.” Bant (Master Eerin apparently, but she told him to call her Bant) said.

“I’m ready, sir.”

“Let’s start off small, see if we can learn anything without fully activating the order.”

General Kenobi took in a deep breath. He looked calm, but Jedi always did. The General took in another breath. Kriff, two deep breaths. That’s Jedi for freaking out, isn’t it? Right?

Fuck.

“Does Order 66 mean anything to you?” General Kenobi braced himself, staring intently at the trooper in his seat.

Eights wracked his brain furiously. Sixty-Six...that was...

“It’s...a little familiar? Sorry sir, I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere but...I can’t recall.”

“That’s perfectly alright trooper, not to worry.”

A Twilek healer he didn’t recognize spoke into a micomphone from the other side of a transparisteel window. “His frontal lobe might be lighting up a little, but it’s nothing abnormal, and not enough to triangulate for anything intrusive.”

After several variations on the same question as well as a number of scans of different ‘levels,’ the questioning escalated to orders, as well an extremely uncomfortable mock fight that he would probably tell his grandchildren about, provided he survived today, and also was allowed to have grandchildren.

Still, Eights couldn’t quite recall ever learning an Order 66 and was starting to relax, thinking the whole thing was some sort of horrible separatist lie.

They left him alone for an uncertain amount of time before returning with-

“Quickdraw?!” Eights jumped up at the sight of his commanding officer arriving via hoverchair, nervously saluting with his left hand.”I didn’t know you were here!”

“Just got out of bacta. My spine’s not quite what it used to be after the blast,” the lieutenant responded wryly. “At ease, Eights.”

“Our apologies again for waking you prematurely,” General Koon said softly.

Quickdraw waved the General off. “I’m honored you did. For something as serious this- well I’d hardly forgive myself if I just slept through it.”

Quickdraw locked eyes with Eights. “I’m supposed to try giving you ‘the order’ now- General Kenobi suspects that as your superior officer, I might be authorized to trigger whatever the hell the longnecks put in our heads.”

Eights swallowed hard. “The longnecks, sir?”

“Who else?” Quickdraw asked in a tone drier than Jakku. He spun in the chair to face General Koon. “How are we doing this?”

After a brief discussion, the troopers ended up on opposite sides of a sound-proof transparisteel divider, an comm channel open between them. Eights plugged his ears and gave the order first. And giving Quickdraw an order was almost but not quite as weird as giving an order that would apparently make him try and kill Jedi.

Nothing happened and they swapped, this time with Quickdraw using a waxy covering to block his hearing.

His lieutenant stared at him straight through the clear divider and ordered him to execute Order 66. This time he finally remembered his training, and realized he was woefully outgunned. Oh well, he was a good soldier.

Eights stood up. The only visible change in his expression was a widening of his pupils. There was no malicious intent palpable in the force- he didn’t even look angry- just determined.

He lunged at the Jedi next to him, only to hit an invisible wall. He threw himself at the barrier desperately while the traitor backed out of the room and escaped. The wall finally dropped, but it was too late, he was locked in.

Sighing, he picked up the chair with his one good arm, slamming it repeatedly at the door frame. Good soldiers follow orders.

On the other side of the observation window, Quickdraw stumbled back horrified, reaching for his ears before hesitating. General Koon softly tapped his shoulder and indicated they should leave.

“I’ve got a location.” Master Che said quietly as the lieutenant was ushered into an antechamber and the activated trooper continued to beat at the door. “It’s a small but clear patch lit up like the festival of lights- I don’t know why it didn’t turn up in scans but...I’m as confident as I can be. Worst case- it’s a small enough area that removing the grey matter shouldn’t...well it won’t kill him. It’s enough to go on for microscapel surgery.” General Koon nodded, then tilted forward, weight falling heavily in his palms on the counter before him.

Vokara rested a hand gently on his back “...I was hoping it wasn’t true as well.”

Master Koon flinched away. “I am sorry and glad to say you do not understand my feelings on the matter. I think...my apologies but I need some time to meditate.”

“Of course.”

Koon rushed out. After a moment Master Windu stepped in, radiating similar distress as Master Koon. Master Kenobi followed, looking grim but also happy.

‘Oh I’m glad Koon isn’t around him right now,’ Healer Che thought wryly.

Perhaps sensing the mood, Obi-Wan sobered.

“I’m sorry it’s just- I didn’t actually see the order get activated. Of course I believed it wasn’t a choice- and I’m obviously not glad that anyone’s will could be taken so easily-”

“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Mace offered quietly. “I can understand why seeing this would be something of a relief, all things considered.”

The Head Healer nodded in agreement before taking charge. “Kenobi, go in with Eerin and help her sedate him. I’ll prepare for surgery.”

“Wait- shouldn’t we try other permutations first? It’s possible that once activated, a clone might be able to order a superior officer-”

“And it’s also possible that if a lieutenant is activated, the entire army will turn,” Mace snapped. Obi-Wan bent his head, chastised.

“Right. Yes. I’ll go- find Bant.”

An extremely long hour later, Master Che returned from surgery. Masters Mundi, Koth, and Yoda had left to and fulfill the other thousand and one duties of a council member not unravelling a Sith conspiracy at the heart of the Republic, while Master Aerdo had been dispatched to talk with Quickdraw as well as some of the other troopers in the hidden Medical bay.

“It’s a chip,” Vokara said grimly. “Native biological material, but clearly a chip. Like you would find in a droid. Far more complex than any slave chip I’ve ever seen, and no explosive component. It would only turn up on a level five brain scan. I didn’t even think to run it before- it’s overly invasive and typically useless.”

The reduced meeting crumpled at the sight of the infinitesimally small object of control, carefully encased in a stasis slide and placed delicately on the conference table.

Proof of Obi-Wan’s future, a future that the group thought they already believed.

“We should get Master Nu,” Adi Gallia said quickly, “We’ll want our top researchers analyzing it as soon as possible.”

Koon nodded sharply. “Agreed.”

The Tholothian Master stood, “I’ll go at once- we should probably keep any mention of this off comms.”

As Master Gallia swept out of the room, Plo Koon wrenched his gaze from the stasis slide to face the healer. “Master Che, what is Eight’s status?”

“Unconscious and restrained, but he should wake up soon enough. It...might not be a bad idea to have another Jedi nearby when he does.”

Koon and Che left the room, taking the chip with them and conferring quietly.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, elbows on the table and face in his hands.

Master Windu exchanged a glance with Anakin.

Finally Obi-Wan spoke, tentatively addressing Bant, “Could it be possible for someone...besides a clone to be chipped? If Palpatine had access to them as a child...”

Bant drew back, gaze flickering to Anakin. “I- we would have to study it more-”

Anakin interrupted, shifting in his seat. ”Master- what did I do?”

“It- it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you anymore that the person who fired on me was Cody.”

Bant exchanged a glance with Mace, before clearing her throat with a soft gurgle. “Perhaps we should leave the two of you alone to talk this through.”

The Mon Cala Healer stood and exited rapidly. Windu exchanged a glance with Skywalker before he left. “Talk through everything, understood?” Anakin nodded.

The door shut, leaving Master and Padawan alone. “I feel like I’m missing more than two and a half days,” Obi-Wan muttered wryly. “I don’t remember you three having a non-verbal communication system consisting of eye-contact alone before.”

Anakin chuckled once then immediately grew somber, picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his robe. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I- did I hurt you? Is that- is that why you stabbed me, you thought you were defending-”

“I did what?!” Obi-Wan paled, jumping up from his seat.

Anakin winced. “It’s nothing, that’s actually not important. I’m healed anyway so forget I mentioned it-”

Obi-Wan moaned, stumbling backwards over the fallen chair. “Of force- when you were trying to save me- I had a blade. I cut you down-” He tripped backwards, collapsing to the ground.

“Master!” Anakin lurched forwards, but the older Jedi scrambled back.

“I forgot my spray bottle in there,” Bant whispered outside the door. “Do you think it’s too late to go back for it?”

Mace peered subtly through the small window in the door. “Yes. They’re already on the ground. I think they’re both crying.”

“It’s been less than a minute!”

“Yes.”

“...We should go.”

“Yes.”

Unaware of their muffled audience, the two continued their conversation.

“Don’t- don’t touch me!” Obi-Wan gasped, back hitting a wall. “I don’t- I don’t deserve-”

The young knight reared back, falling from a crouch to his knees, “Is this...about the Tuskens again?

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. “The Tuskens? What about Tuskens?”

“You don’t...remember?” The air grew cold and Anakin forced himself to continue, “What- what we talked about in the cave?”

“What we- I-” Obi-Wan thought furiously. “...Anakin. What did...what were you apologizing for in the cave? What- what did you think we were talking about?”

“Oh gods.” Anakin paled now, shuffling back.

“What are they doing now?” Bant asked the taller Master.

“They’re taking turns chasing each other back and forth on their hands and knees. They both look like they’re seconds away from passing out or throwing up.”

“I...is this a human thing?”

“No. What? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know! Do you think this is how they usually talk to each other?”

“I think perhaps they don’t talk to each other, and that’s why they’re like this.”

“Right, right... I really want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Hm. I don’t.”

“Why are you also standing outside the door then?”

“I want to be ready to intervene if they start trying to kill each other.”

“FORCE”

“Quiet!”

“Sorry. Sorry. You think they fought then? In the...other timeline?”

“...It would explain Obi-Wan’s shatterpoint remnants better than anything else.”

“Not to mention the spice.”

“I thought we were politely ignoring the spice.”

“...and then I brought her back to the homestead for burial.” Anakin bowed his head, tears streaming against his will. “I thought...Master I know I can’t fix this but I’m sorry- I already stepped down from my position as General so I wouldn’t be in a position to kill anyone else- I need you to forgive me.”

“Oh Anakin.”

“What? What happened?” Bant asked urgently.

The Master of the Order appeared unruffled in the force and human visible light, but the tips of his ears were heating up in infrared. She stood on her toes to see in.

“Oh- they’re hugging? Seriously? That’s what you’re embarrassed to see?”

“They’re clinging to each other like younglings. It’s undignified for a Jedi Master and Knight”

“Alright that’s it- we’re going. I really don’t think Anakin’s going to jump from crying and hugs to murder.”

Unaware of their newfound privacy, the two inside withdrew from their embrace, still sniffling slightly.

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said in a shaky tone. “I swear I won’t let you down, I’m going to do better.”

“I know, my padawan, I know. I’m going to be there to help you this time, I’m not going to leave you alone with- well I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Anakin smiled wetly at Obi-Wan’s careful avoidance of Chancellor Palpatine’s supposed Sith alter ego, refocusing on Obi-Wan and making intense eye contact.

“What did you think we were talking about?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “It- it never happened.”

“Ori’vod, please. You- you mentioned younglings. I did something else unforgivable didn’t I?”

Obi-Wan smiled but didn’t look up. “And i forgave you anyway. Even when I thought your apology was just a fantasy. But it wasn’t, it was real, and- and the people actually are unmurdered so...it’s not worth talking about it.”

Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, gut roiling. “You...really think I might have a chip in me?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up. “I...don’t know. I didn’t even know that Cody had a chip in him.”

“You just...were suddenly betrayed by everyone.”

“Not...everyone. Most who refused to fall in line were executed, of course, but there were a few senators who stood with the Jedi, secretly.”

A new wave of cold terror passed over Anakin. “What happened with the other senators?”

“Like I said to the council earlier, from what I heard they cheered Palpatine on. Thunderous applause.”

“That’s not what I mean- Padme, Was Padme alright?”

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands, shuddering.

“Anakin- I don’t know what to tell you,” he said in muffled voice. “I don’t want to deceive you but- things were dark. If I tell you everything now, I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”

Anakin winced. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I’m not...evil. I just...I messed up, and I want to make things better.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and pulled Anakin so they were seated next to each other in a mirror of the false peace a few days earlier. Anakin leaned into his Master’s side, feeling the cold retreat. “You’re not evil Anakin, but what you did to the Tusken village wasn’t exactly a small thing. I- look- Ad’ika-”

Obi-Wan hesitantly placed an arm around Anakin’s shoulder and the cold retreated a bit more.

“If the council accepts my plan, we’re going to have time together over the next few weeks, to talk more about...everything. We’re going to end the war- save everyone. I know the cave wasn’t what either of us thought it was, but it still meant the galaxy to me. I love you, no matter what...and that conversation, what you said. Well, it gave me the strength to go on, to do what I needed to.” Obi-Wan froze. “Not my, um, self-inflected injuries- that’s- obviously that wasn’t your fault-”

“You thought you were hallucinating. I know.” Anakin smiled, feeling honestly amused at the absurdity situation for the first time. “I’m going to mock you for that for the rest of our lives, you know that, right?”

“I look forward to it.” Obi-Wan smiled.

A vise that had been clenched around Anakin’s heart since he broke down the door to their apartment finally relaxed. “You really weren’t trying to kill yourself,” he sighed happily.

“I was attempting to stay alive. Honestly concerned about dehydration. I wanted to stay in the daydream, but I knew I couldn’t. And part of that was because you gave me the strength to keep going. Sorry I did such a bad job honoring that but, well. You know. Thank you, Anakin. For saving me twice over.” Obi-Wan’s voice was utterly earnest, though it was a touch more embarrassed than he was used to after the single day of utter unrestraint.

Anakin’s eyes welled up. “I’ve been- I hated that you would just leave like that, give up-”

“Never Anakin,” Obi-Wan vowed. “I will never give up on you, or this galaxy.”

He twisted so he could throw both arms around his padawan.

“I swear by everything I am I will keep going. It’s... in my nature but gods is it easier with you besides me.”

“Even though i’m a child murderer twice over and once removed?” Anakin joked weakly, clinging desperately to Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan shuddered. “Too soon, Anakin. Too soon.”

Part XXI

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au #starwars

237 notes · View notes

kaz11283 · 3 years

Note

44 and 45 for writing prompts?

44) Close Your Eyes

45) Will You Marry me

Your Favorite Suprise

Warnings: fluff

Characters: Your favorite God of Mischief, Nat, Clint (brother, I know I have a weird problem ok?), Steve, Tony, Thor

Summary: you and Loki had been dating for a while now it only made since that he wants to take the next step.

Announcements: Ah yes, while I should be working on the next chapter of my series Im doing a Loki Request list...makes sense to me. I have decided to start posting a chapter a week and I have decided to start posting The chapters on Fridays. But I'll probably still be doing one shots and drabbles randomly during the week along with request. *its like really early in the morning here so if I am not making any sense i will probably post another update soon.* love you guys, thank you for the request! 💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~~~

Loki had been distant all day, he wasnt in any of the normal places that he normally would have been. You had checked in the library, his room, even the lab none held signs that the god had been there all day.

"Guys, have you by any chance seen Loki?" You asked walking into the living room where your brother and Nat were wrestling, for some unknown reason, Thor and Steve sat watching.

"Tall guy, wears to much green, pointy hat?" Clint choked out from a chokehold. Sometimes you wondered if you were really the oldest with the way he acted.

"Last time I seen my brother he was heading out to the large balcony on the top floor with a rather heavy looking box." Thor called over his shoulder. "No no no Hawkman, you odviously doing it wrong. Let me show you." He said getting up walking over to the two on the floor.

"Whatever, he'll know where to find me I guess." You said jumping over the back of the couch sitting down next to Steve.

"Hey! No jumping on the furniture. I swear its like I live in a house full of kids between you and Parker jumping and flying around." Tony yelled from the kitchen door.

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at you. "Thor is trying to show them some Asguardian fighting moves. Nat picked up pretty fast, your brother on the other hand..."

"He does better in a roost high above the ground. Only reason I use to hate fighting with him is because he could climb higher than I could." You laughed.

"Ok Lord Thunder if you can do better be my guest." Clint took a step back allowing Thor to stand in. Thor gave a bellowing laugh and got in a fighting stance.

"My people invented these moves I can easily take down Nat."

After a few rounds and Thor definitly losing causing the room to howl with laughter at his confusion Loki walked in.

"So the man of mysteries returns. Where have you been darling." You asked as he came to stand beside you.

"Just working on a suprise for you my dearest." He laughed leaning down and kissing the top of your head.

"Please stop, there are young eyes in the room." Clint groaned from a recliner across from you causing you to roll your eyes.

"Yeah, if your going by shoe size." You mocked. Turning to Loki you looked at him. "What does the god of mischief have up his sleave for me?"

"Come dear, I would rather show you." He offered you his hand and you walked from the room.

He lead you to the room where the balcony was located and turned to you. "Close your eyes."

"Ummm why? You planning on pushing me off?" You laughed realizing that he had a serious look on his face. "Nevermind." You closed your eye, as soon as they were shut you felt a cloth wrap around your head. "If you wnted something like this all you had to do was ask." You smirked.

"Oh nine realms y/n. Get your mind out of the gutter for just a little bit." You couldnt see it but you knew he was rolling his eyes. "This is serious." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"Ok fine, serious, I can be serious for like 5 minutes. I cant guarantee the comments that will follow after the time is up though." You laughed.

"Sometimes I feels like I'm dating your brother." He huffed taking your hand and leading you onto the balcony.

"We are basically the same person, I just look alot better than he does in a cat suit." He let go of your hand just after walking out of the door and disappered.

"You know that mouth is one of my favorit things about you." He whispered in your ear cauing your heart to flutter. "Always quick to the punch, it never fails." He said kissing the side of your mouth.

"But my absolute favorit thing about you is your willingness to over look a persons flaws, to give everyone a chance, even if they dont deserve it. You have such an open mind forgiving everyone that you feel need forgiving. Looking for the good in a person and giving that person hope that maybe there is hope left for them." This time he brushed your hair from your neck kissing you behind the ear sending a shiver down your spine.

"Loki you was never a bad person-" you saod trying to defend him aginst hisself

"I brainwashed your brother." He countered. "You didnt just do it for me though. You stood up for Wanda, for Bucky, you stand up for the underdogs that wouldnt have a chance other wise."

"Wanda needed a family, Bucky was Steves best friend and I seen how it hurt him for eveyone to be aginst him. Also brainwashed. Im kinda seeing a pattern here though." You smiled.

"Y/n, honestly would you jusy be quiet for a few more minutes." He sighed.

"Ok, lips are sealed. Continue telling me how great I am." He sighed again pulling you closer to the middle of the balcony.

"You have been my light in the darkest tunnel I had ever been in. When the others shut me out you were always there to let me know I wasnt alone. I could travel to all nine realms and never find another soul as caring and as trust worthy as you, who holds me at night when nightmares wake me up, who actually seen good in me and who has made me a better person." You felt him reach behind you and untie the knot from the blind, you kept your eyes closed as you felt him grab your hand again this time there was a slight pull. "Darling you can open your eyes."

When you opened them you were awestruck with the sight in front of you. Farie lights had been hung from the rafters causing a warm glow around the balcony, ivy and white flowers hand been drapped on the walls givingbthe whole place a cozy feel. You looked at Loki noticing him kneeling in front of you, you opened your mouth to make a comment but quicky shut it not wanting to ruin the moment.

"Y/n Barton there is no one else I would rather travel the nine realms with but you, I would walk across time and space to see you smile. Would you please do me the honor of being my princess? My Queen? For all eternity? Will you marry me?" He pulled out a small black box for his pocket and opened it revealing a silver band entwind with a beautiful type of black metal a small emerald sat nestled between the two holding the jewel in place. Your eyes shot up to his and tears started to flow. You didnt trust you voice in that moment son you simply shook your head.

He was on his feet in no time easily slipping the band on your finger before wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you close to him. You placed your hands on either side of his face pulling him into you for a kiss. "Yes." You mumbled aginst his lips as he smiled into the kiss. "A million times yes!"

"We are going to have a wedding!" Thor yelled from the open door causing you both to jump. You looked up in time to see everyone that had been in the living room crowed around watching the two of you. "Lady y/n, a fine sister you will make!" Thor beamed picking you up into a crushing hug.

"You can have her! Ive had her as a sister long enough." Clint said beside you as he leaned down to kiss you cheek. "Congrats sis."

"You knew didnt you?" You smiled.

"Of course I did. Hes kinda old school, asked if it would be ok if he asked you. Nice guy, once you get past the whole mind control thing." You smacked his in the chest.

"In my defence you did try to shoot me woth an arrow that exploded." Loki said wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Ill take back the approval to marry my sister." He saod looking straight at him.

"No you wont, ive already said yes. Besides he really makes me happy. Truly honestly happy." You smiled looking up at Loki giving him another kiss.

~~~~~~

Tag list:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #loki avengers #loki daily #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki request #loki masterlist #mcu loki #avenger loki #loki x you #lokilaufeyson #loki one shot #loki (marvel)#loki of asgard

98 notes · View notes

elvish-sky · 3 years

Text

Hope {Aragorn x Reader}

A.N: So no prompts done today cause I was working on this, but I’m proud of it and will get right on prompts tomorrow! This is the completely reader-insert version! I honestly had so much fun writing it and am honored that this person wanted me to do so. I hope y’all like it!

Requested by @ask-the-elf-stuff on Tumblr

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 1,799

Warnings: Kissing, fluff, the smallest bit of angst.

****

Hope

“You’re really leaving?” You gazed into Aragorn’s eyes, hoping that it wasn’t true.

“I have to, Y/N. The fate of Middle-Earth depends on it.”

Your head dipped in understanding, but also sadness.

“Do not fear. I will return.” He cupped your chin with his hand, tilting your head and kissing you. It was a light kiss, nothing like the others you had shared before. This kiss was the hope that you’d see each other again.

Breaking away, you forced a smile as you hugged him, trying not to cry. Stepping back, you waved as he followed the rest of the newly formed Fellowship through the gates of Imladris. Your father stood next to you, and as Aragorn passed through the gates Elrond drew you into his side.

“He’ll be back, hína (child),” Elrond said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you rested your head on your father’s shoulder as you watched the man depart.

Weeks later, you were pacing your room, determined to do something. Arwen stopped short in the doorway as she saw you pack open on your bed as you shoved things inside.

“Y/N? What are you doing?”

“I do not know why, but I have felt a pull to follow. An ache, almost painful in its strength, has settled inside me and so I knew I must follow. We have not heard from the Fellowship in weeks, Aragorn could be hurt, or someone else could be, or he could be,” your voice broke, “dead.

The elf nodded in understanding. “The ache is telling you to be with the one you love.”

She then clasped your hand. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You looked at her, unshed tears of worry clear in your eyes.

“If he was dead, you’d feel it. And I know as your sister I should be telling you not to go, but I cannot help but notice the pain you’ve been in these last weeks. So go, find him.” She spread a map out onto a small table nearby, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you just carry that everywhere?”

She shot you a look, and you quickly clammed up, peering over her shoulder as she pointed things out.

“After crossing the mountains visit our grandmother in Lothlorien, the Fellowship had planned to pass through there, and she will know where they are.”

You took it all in, remembering the route to Lothlorien from visits to your grandparents you had made before your mother went west.

“Thank you, Arwen.” You smiled up at your sister.

She clasped your wrist before pulling away, placing her hands on your shoulders as she looked into your eyes. “Stay safe, Y/N.”

You nodded, shoving the last things into your pack before slinging it over your shoulders with your bow and quiver, daggers sheathed on your thighs, hugging your sister one last time before leaving your room.

You strode down the hallway, dressed in leather hunting clothes as you made your way to the gates of Imladris. You had stopped by the kitchens to gather food supplies, making sure they thought you were only going for a hunting excursion.

Entering the courtyard, you saw your father standing in the center, clearly waiting for you. Silently cursing Arwen, as you had hoped to slip away unnoticed, you made your way over to him.

“I should not let you do this.”

You frowned at his words, drawing breath to protest, but before you could Elrond spoke again.

“But you are free to go. I feel the ache and have felt it every day since your mother departed. I know that nothing but being with the one you love can ease that pain, and it would hurt me to know you are experiencing it. Go to Estel. I give you my blessing.”

You hugged your father before turning and mounting your horse, brought from the stables. Turning to wave to your father one last time, you leaned down to whisper, “Let’s go, Daeroc. Let’s go find Aragorn.” The horse broke into a trot, and you left Imladris behind.

Weeks later, you led Daeroc into Lothlorien, waiting for the sentries to appear. One dropped down from a tree, and you smiled at him, recognizing the face.

“Haldir,” you greeted him with a smile.

“Y/N. It is good to see you again. I assume you are here to see the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn?”

You nodded, “Yes. I have not seen my grandparents in a long time. But before we go to them could you find someone to take care of Daeroc?”

Another elf came into view, nodding to you as she took the reins from your hands.

“Thank you,” you smiled at her.

Later, you walked into the courtyard, bowing to your grandparents standing on the stairs above.

“Y/N, my daughter’s daughter. What brings you here?” Galadriel smiled at you, descending the stairs with her husband to greet you, each clasping your wrist.

“To see you, of course, and seek news of the Fellowship that I assume has passed through here.”

Your grandmother smiled. “It seems you are in luck, for they are here as we speak.”

Your eyes widened. “But they should have been long gone by now. I wonder what has caused the delay?”

Celeborn’s face softened. “Then you do not know.”

“Know what?” You were beginning to grow quite worried. “What has happened?”

“They could not make it through the pass of Caradhras, so they turned and went through Moria, costing them the life of Mithrandir.”

You gasped, heart aching at the grief that must have caused them and the grief you now felt.

“May I see them?” All you wanted now was to see your friends and the man you loved.

“Of course.” Galadriel beckoned you to follow her, and you did, softly conversing with your grandmother and updating her on the lives of her family in Imladris, as well as others she knew.

Stepping into the clearing, you turned to thank Galadriel, watching her fade from view behind you for a moment before continuing.

There he was. Tall and handsome still, even grimy with dirt and dust from his travels. You debated casually walking up and greeting him more sedately, but watching him you just couldn’t hold back. All your elvish instincts left you, and you sprinted towards him, leaping into his shocked arms as kissing him for all you were worth. He kissed you back for a moment, and then pulled away, the surprise on his face clear.

“Y/N! What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.”

His eyes widened. “You did?”

You smiled at him. “Of course I did, meleth.”

He smiled back at you, and drew you in for another kiss, hands holding you up as your legs wrapped around his waist. Deepening the kiss, he moved so your back was pressed against a tree and his hands were free to slide up your back, tangling in your hair as you lost yourselves in each other.

Sometime later, you sat with the rest of the Fellowship after the nighttime meal, talking. It was good to see them again, you had grown fond of all of them, even the dwarf, during their time in Imladris. But of course, the only person you really had eyes for that night was Aragorn, who sat next to you with an arm around your shoulders.

Legolas had seemed puzzled with how comfortable you were with affection, it was rather un elf-like. You had explained to him that because of your father’s past, he was slightly more affectionate than a normal elf, and showed it. You hadn’t missed the wistful look on Legolas’ face as you spoke and recalled what you knew of his family, feeling sorry for him.

Later that night, you sat by the dying embers of the fire alongside Legolas. Aragorn had gone with the hobbits to wash up, and Boromir and Gimli were sleeping, so it was just you and the elf.

“Legolas?” The older elf looked at you.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, and you continued, “I was just wondering, do you know of something like an ache? It began right after the Fellowship departed Imladris, and only subsided when I arrived here. What does it mean?”

He smiled. “Y/N. That was the bond between your soul and Aragorn’s, pulled taught with your fear of losing him. Now that you are reunited, it has gone because you are together. It is every elf’s greatest dream and worst fear to have that feeling.”

You smiled. “Have you?”

The pain in his eyes told you that maybe that was not something to be asked of others.

“I am not sure if it is in my destiny to ever feel that.” He gazed into the distance.

The two of you sat in easy silence for a long time, after that.

“Y/N.” You turned to see Aragorn beckoning to you, and with a nod to Legolas, you rose.

“You do not have to come with us. It will be a journey of great peril, and I do not want to put you in that much danger.”

You gazed at him earnestly, “Aragorn. I shall be there when the crown is finally placed on your head. I shall be with you until the end.”

He smiled at you again and clasped your hand as you walked through the towering trees.

You had left Lothlorien the day after with the Fellowship, having officially joined up. Lots had happened after that, including almost dying with most of Middle-Earth, but months later, all was finally well. Frodo and Sam had destroyed the ring in Mordor, the forces of Mordor had collapsed along with the Black Gate, and today was the coronation of King Elessar, also known as Aragorn.

You watched, standing next to Gimli on the dais, as Gandalf lowered the crown onto Aragorn’s head.

“Now come the days of the King!” Gandalf declared before Aragorn turned to face his kingdom. Everyone cheered as he stood there, silencing quickly as he spoke. His words were wise and sincere, and you couldn’t help but fall in love all over again. As petals began to fall, he started singing, the words quickly fading as he turned to you.

You walked down to meet him at the bottom of the steps, gown trailing behind you. Once you reached him, he grabbed your hand, wrapping an arm around your waist as he dipped you into a spectacular kiss. Unlike the one you had shared in Imladris, this was not a kiss of sadness. This was a kiss of hope, peace, and promise. As the cheers rose around you again you knew that everything you had hoped for had come true.

Everything tag: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16

#aragorn x reader #maiawrites #lord of the rings #the hobbit #jrr tolkien #the silmarillion #aragorn fanfic #aragorn x you #aragorn x y/n #elrond’s daughter #Arwens sister #arwen #Elrond #legolas #gandalf #Galadriel #celeborn #Galadriel x celeborn

134 notes · View notes

ta-ether · 3 years

Text

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is Achilles and Patroclus’ relationship. Not in how it’s presented in any particular property – this isn’t an analysis of how they appear in The Song of Achilles, or Hades – but more how their relationship is in the Iliad.

I guess the thing that’s been in the back of my mind ever since I read the Iliad (god, was it the summer before junior year of high school?) seven or so years ago, is that while Achilles and Patroclus are held up as this wonderfully romantic couple, this often comes at people glossing over certain aspects of their relationship that are complex or ask questions that have hard answers. Namely, the one that’s been niggling at me is the question that if Achilles is supposed to have loved Patroclus so much, why did he let him go out to fight?

The wonderful thing about Homer, the thing I so desperately love about Homer, is that there is such ambiguity to things. Homer seems to deliberately sidestep giving us concrete answers. The Iliad is a poem that thrives on nuance, and that extends to the exact nature of the relationship between these characters.

While Achilles swears early in the Iliad he won’t fight until his dignity is restored, Patroclus has a much softer heart (in addition to not having been wronged by Agamemnon). Patroclus’ arc from Book 1 to the beginning of 16 is watching the effect Achilles’ absence has on the rest of the Acheans. Achilles himself retreats into his ship and sends Patroclus out for news of how the battles are going, meaning it is Patroclus who is privy to the pain being wrought, and it is also Patroclus who Nestor eventually asks to intercede on the Argives’ behalf.

After the Trojans start seizing the Achean’s ships in Book 15, Patroclus finally goes and asks Achilles if he’ll return to the battle, or failing that, if he can go in his place and armor. He runs up and Achilles asks him why he’s crying like a little girl. Patroclus starts by saying “don’t be angry with me,” but then quickly himself becomes angry at Achilles after explaining how all of their friends and allies are wounded and suffering on the battlefield:

“But it’s impossible to deal with you, Achilles. I hope anger like this rage you’re nursing never seizes me. It’s disastrous! How will you be of use to anyone in later generations, if you won’t keep shameful ruin from the Argives? You’re pitiless. Perhaps horseman Peleus was not your father, nor Thetis your mother— the grey sea delivered you, some tall cliff, for you’ve an unyielding heart.”

He finishes by putting forth Nestor’s suggestion that if Achilles won’t rejoin the fight, he should. “I could be a saving light for the Danaans,” he says. Achilles responds that since the Trojans have come to the ships, he will allow Patroclus to go out in his armor. Now, this is where, famously, Achilles tells him not to go press past the ships:

“Now, pay attention to what I tell you about the goal I have in mind for you, so you’ll win me great honour and rewards, so all Danaans will send back to me that lovely girl and give fine gifts as well. Once you push Trojans from the ships, come back. If Zeus, Hera’s mate, who loves his thunder, gives you the glory, don’t keep on battling those war-loving Trojans with me absent. You would decrease my honours.”

While Achilles is undoubtedly worried about Patroclus’ safety, he mentions his desire for the honor and rewards that his “returning” to battle would bring him. He also brings up (before he says Apollo might make an attempt on Patroclus’ life) that the reason he wants Patroclus to retreat is that it would decrease his own honors. You can chalk this focus on the honor he may or may not receive to many different things, the most charitable of which is that Achilles isn’t taking this very seriously, and perhaps neither is Patroclus. This is backed up by Patroclus’ flippant approach on the battlefield:

“Well now, there’s an agile man! What a graceful diver! […] I suppose these Trojans must have acrobats as well.”

The point still remains that for all the love that Achilles has for Patroclus, his first instinct – like it has been for the entirety of the Iliad to this point – is concern about his own pride and honor, not the safety of his closest friend or fellow Argives. War takes, but Achilles was more focused on what it gives, and then it took his closest companion.

While Patroclus has more of an idea of the horrors of what the Achaeans have been going through in recent books – specifically Book 11 – he still hasn’t been on the field of battle since before the Iliad started. Patroclus pushes on beyond the ships because of his desire to fight and his own refusal to stop, and it is for this reason he is killed by Hector and Apollo. The narrative remarks:

“How blind he was, poor fool! If he’d done what the son of Peleus had told him, he’d have missed his evil fate, his own dark death.”

We learn later from Patroclus’ ghost in Book 23 that one of his flaws, perhaps his greatest and deadliest, is that he can become blinded by passion and lose reason.

“I killed Amphidamas’ son, in my foolishness. I didn’t mean to, but I was enraged over some game of dice.”

The narrative and Patroclus himself admits that if he’d taken a moment to consider, to think rationally, he wouldn’t have felt the need to continue fighting the Trojans, or to kill Amphidames’ son. The thrill of war and perhaps his own desire for honors hid this from him, and this in effect kills him.

As I alluded to earlier, this isn’t something I think many people touch on when thinking about Achilles and Patroclus’ relationship: the idea that ultimately, it was perhaps Achilles who killed Patroclus – or at the very least, lead to his death. The Iliad does start like this, after all:

“Sing, Goddess, sing the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus— that murderous anger which condemned Achaeans to countless agonies and threw many warrior souls deep into Hades, leaving their dead bodies carrion food for dogs and birds— all in fulfilment of the will of Zeus.”

One of those souls sent to Hades was Patroclus. Achilles even acknowledges this in Book 18.

“Then let me die, since I could not prevent the death of my companion. He’s fallen far from his homeland. He needed me there to protect him from destruction.”

Patroclus’ death isn’t tragic merely because he died, but because the man who loved him could’ve protected him but didn’t, and he knows it. I don’t want to downplay Patroclus’ own hubris’ role in his death or place all the blame on Achilles – merely point out that for all the love Achilles had for Patroclus, he still didn’t go out to fight when asked: first by his friends and allies, and then by his closest companion. He instead lets Patroclus go out in his place. Achilles’ love ultimately wasn’t stronger than his own pride.

This isn’t to say there’s not a deep, meaningful relationship between these two characters. There clearly, textually is. These two people love each other, however that love is interpreted. But they are also deeply flawed people. And, for all his faults, Patroclus knows that about Achilles. He knew that Achilles might put his own pride over the lives of all the Argives, including him, and so he asked if he could go instead. Even Hector knows this, as before he kills him he says:

“You poor wretch, even Achilles, for all his courage, was no use to you. Though he stayed behind, he must have given you strict orders as you left.”

And, for what it’s worth, Patroclus doesn’t say that he blames Achilles, either here in front of Hector, or when he comes to Achilles as a shade in Book 23 (and characters in the Iliad are decently prone to blaming people for their deaths). Ultimately, he seems to accept Achilles, flaws and all, and desires for them to be reunited in death, as does Achilles.

Their relationship isn’t simple and it’s not straightforward, because these characters aren’t simple or straightforward. Achilles both loves Patroclus more than any other Argive including himself, and also loves his own honor and pride over Patroclus. The incapability of these loves directly leads to Patroclus’ death. Patroclus is also more measured and rational than Achilles, and also is clouded to reason, and this incompatibility leads to his death. If the point of the Odyssey is (in part) that the Trojan War caused unnecessary death, then perhaps Patroclus’ death is that in microcosm.

Still, I can’t help but read Achilles and Patroclus’ relationship as one that – to be blunt – failed. They couldn’t make it work, in life at least. If you read it as a sexual-romantic relationship, maybe that’s its own tragedy. I don’t say this to make people angry or even because I necessarily wholly believe it, but more because their relationship is imperfect and should be recognized as such. Personally, I think this relationship, broken but full of love and affection and flaws, is much more compelling than a perfect or unexamined one.

It goes back to why I love the Iliad in the first place: the characters are messy and rather than this detracting from their ability to impact the reader, it only heightens their ability to speak to us. Homer doesn’t provide concrete answers for things, but he doesn’t have to. Everything we need is on the page. Every time you return to the book, the characters show you something new. I noticed a ton of new things about Achilles and Patroclus while writing this, which really only strengthened my belief in the points I made here. The tragedy of Patroclus’ death is, in part, one of how pride hurts those you love the most. The idea that Achilles caused Patroclus’ death is one that shouldn’t go unexamined because it’s perhaps unsavory, because it is in examining it that the true depths of their relationship are brought to light.

There are so many more things I could’ve mentioned: Achilles and Patrolcus’ status as equals, the role the idea of “fate” plays in Patroclus’ death, how the role the gods play in Patroclus’ death effects all this – but I felt that I would let those be for perhaps another time. As it stands now, I feel as though I have (at least personally) answered my initial question. It’s not a simple answer, but it wasn’t a simple question about simple characters in a simple work. And that is both fine and also, in its own way, beautiful.

#the iliad #iliad #achilles #patroclus #patrochilles #patroclus x achilles #achilles x patroclus #yelling into the void #im only sort of sorry for the amount of quotations this is even after editing them down #taessays

100 notes · View notes

justanother-unluckysoul · 3 years

Text

A Quiet Moment

Emma's been stressed lately, so Killian takes her to visit a secluded beach. That’s all. Just sweet CS fluff without a plot.

A/N: For the ever so lovely @teamhook , who has been completely amazing at making me feel welcome in this fandom. I hope this brings a smile to your face in these tough times.

Unbetad as always so mistakes are all mine.

Read this story on AO3

A Quiet Moment

Emma thinks the soft rush of waves against the sand would lull her to sleep if she wasn't so damn cold right now. The ground she’s sitting on is doing nothing to make her more comfortable either, cold and unyielding and she’s getting irritated. She shivers slightly, tugging the collar of her jacket higher on her neck, as if that will help.

“You couldn’t have chosen a warmer night for this?” she asks, careful to keep her voice down. She tries to keep the frustration out of her voice, not wanting to direct it at Killian. It’s not his fault she can’t get comfortable - he had urged her to bring more layers, but it had been such a lovely warm day she had brushed off his warning that it would get cold on the beach.

Killian appraises her with a lifted eyebrow and a gentle smile.

"Sorry, love," he murmurs, "I promise it won't be much longer."

He removes his leather coat, draping it around her and she quickly shoves her arms through the sleeves. It's quite a bit too large on her smaller frame, but that only makes her feel cosier as she nestles into it, protected from the chilly sea breeze by the heavy embrace of the coat, the leather still holding Killian’s body heat.

“Thank you.” She sighs, leaning against Killian contentedly as the warmth returns to her bones.

The sun had slipped below the horizon half an hour ago, and while it had been a beautiful evening, the temperature had dropped rapidly once darkness fell. She feels rather foolish for not rugging up the way Killian had instructed and a little bit guilty for borrowing his jacket, leaving him to brave the cold air without it. Though he never seems as affected by the temperatures as she does. He certainly doesn’t look like he minds now either, staring out to sea with a focused, hopeful expression, and Emma realizes he’s as eager to see this as she is.

“How many times have you come out here?” she asks softly.

“A few times. Enough to know the cold is worth it.”

A light in the sky catches Emma’s attention and she looks up. A shooting star arcs across the darkening sky, burning brighter than she’s ever seen a star burn before.

“Make a wish,” Emma says reflexively.

“Everything I’d wish for is already right here, Emma,” Killian tells her quietly, and her heart swells with love for him and for the way he never lets pass an opportunity to remind her how he feels about her.

“You’re so cliche.”

He hums in agreement as he brushes some wayward hair away from her face. “And you love me for it.”

She can’t help grinning, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. She does love him for it; for that and for many other things. He dips down to kiss her, just a brief touch of his mouth to hers and then he straightens up again to simply hold her to him, letting out a contented sigh of his own. Emma smiles as she snuggles into his arms. Even if nothing else comes of this evening, it’s been wonderful to finally have a quiet moment, here on the beach under the stars with the man she loves. And while Emma’s body may still be cold, her soul feels warm. All too soon, Killian is shifting and letting his arms fall away from her. But Emma doesn’t have a moment to think about how much she misses his embrace because he’s staring excitedly at the water.

“Look, Emma,” he hisses, and Emma follows his line of sight across the beach.

Riding the roll of the surf is a small blue and white penguin. Emma’s breath catches on a quiet gasp as the adorable creature lands on the beach, getting to its feet as the wave recedes and beginning a hasty waddle towards the rocks her and Killian are sitting on. It’s even smaller than Emma had imagined when Killian had told her of them.

“Killian-”

“Ssshh. Just stay still.”

The tiny penguin approaches them fearlessly and comes to a halt just out of reach, its head cocked to the side slightly as it observes the two people sitting in front of it. Its blue-grey feathers contrast with its white belly, soft and downy and still glistening with droplets from the sea. It’s the cutest thing Emma’s ever seen. She hardly dares to breathe, afraid she’ll scare it away. She wishes she could pet it, wanting to know if it’s really as soft as it appears, but Killian had warned her not to. It’s an honor to even be allowed on their beach, love, but we shouldn’t ask for more than that. It wouldn’t be proper. And you mustn’t forget they are wild animals, however tame they may seem. It makes perfect sense, but the temptation remains as Emma watches the penguin step even closer. A second penguin makes its way up the beach now, and distracts the first from its curiosity about the humans, the two creatures letting out soft chirruping sounds as they greet one another. It’s clear from their affectionate behaviour that they are a couple, and Emma can’t help smiling at their antics. Shortly the two penguins toddle off into a gap in the rocks further along the beach, disappearing into the sheltered crevice where they have made their nest.

“Come, love,” Killian whispers, taking her hand, “Let’s not overstay our welcome.”

The moon has begun its climb out of the ocean, not yet full, but more than bright enough to light the way as Emma and Killian walk hand in hand up the winding path away from the beach. On the grassy knoll overlooking the sea, they pause to take in the view. The moonlight catches the curve of each wave in silver as it folds upon the sand. The air around them is damp and salty against the back of Emma’s throat, but the chill of the night doesn’t bother her as much now, not with Killian’s coat still wrapped around her.

“Worth it?” he asks.

“God, yes. Thank you, Killian. I needed this.”

She pulls him in for a slow, passionate kiss, which he returns without hesitation, kissing her deeply and thoroughly as his hand cradles the back of her head, fingers tangling into her hair.

“I love you so much,” she murmurs against his lips.

“I love you too, my darling.” He kisses her once more, before adding suggestively, “Now let’s go home and get you properly warmed up.”

Emma giggles, slipping her hand back into his.

“With hot chocolate?” she teases.

“Aye, that. And other things.”

And damn, the way Killian deepens his voice like that and leans in close always does things to her.

“Hmm, I like the sound of that.”

THE END

#cs ff #cs fluff #seriously this is the fluffiest thing I've ever written lol #look no angst!#captain swan #love4teamhook #my fanfics

48 notes · View notes

softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Text

How Do I Love Thee? | Knight!Weaver x Princess!Reader | Medieval AU | Chpt. 1

Summary:

The day has finally come. Your bodyguard, the man you've trusted with your life since the day you were born, has reached the age of retirement. Being the only child of your royal parents, the King and Queen are quite keen on keeping you safe, so naturally a new one must be selected. When the dust of the tournament settles, a champion is chosen, one far younger and stronger then the last...

In an age full of tales of handsome men in shining armor and chivalrous heroes of great courage and honor, could you be in for a forbiden love story of your own?

Tags: Slow burn

Warnings: None, except for a small fight scene involving mentions of blood

“Goodnight my Lady”, your lady in waiting bows her head politely as she exits your chambers, closing the heavy wooden doors behind her with a soft thump. Her footsteps recede off into the night down through the thick stone corridors as you lay awake in your downy bed. Two sconces glow faintly in the night, providing just enough light for you to navigate the large, dark room.

Once you’re sure you’re alone, you grab your small candle and pad across the cool stone floor to steal some light. It catches quickly and you’re off once more to your desk. You pull out your poetry books and studies to retrieve a small leather bound notebook. It contains all sorts of things like sketches and sonnets that you've penned, but most of all it’s filled with your musings of the day.

You tap your quill on the edge of the inkwell and set its point to the parchment.

Today has been a rather sad one indeed. Your old guardsman has retired from your father’s service, the very same man who’s protected you and your person since you were but a little girl. He’s much like a grandfather to you in a way, and it pains you very deeply to see him leave you. Your father has tried to comfort you with the promise that a tournament will be held the very next day to get you a new guard as soon as possible, but the absence of a knight isn’t what troubles you.

You sniffle, a tear threatening fall from your eyes as you pause, recalling a lifetime of memories and yet being forced to let them go. Gathering your strength with a deep breath, you write the final words you old guard left you with:

“Be brave, my little Princess. I know you can”

At last you write that you are not looking forward to tomorrow and that you expect to be quite beside yourself. It’s all you can write before the despondency overcomes you again.

Being the Lady that you are, you retrieve one of your ever present nearby handkerchiefs and dry your eyes. You set your journal back into it’s hidden home and restore your books to keep it safe. With the desk returned just as it was, you tiptoe back to bed and blow out your candle. Moving aside the velvet drape, you think one last time on your faithful old guard, remembering all the memories of your childhood you shared as you climb back under the sheets.

Tomorrow is a new chapter for the both of you, you suppose. You hope his story ends sweetly.

---

The tournament begins with much fanfare and ado as the festivities kick things off. You’re sitting pretty in a lovely silk gown between your mother and father, both equally dressed up. There’s games and feasting and music and dancing… All the things something of this magnitude should include.

And, as you predicted, you’re quite bored indeed.

As yet another jaunty reel plays from the minstrels, you can’t help but roll your eyes and look onwards. Past the castle grounds, past the village, past the fields and farm lands… Way, way out in the distance to the forest and mountains.

That’s where your soul lies.

Being the Princess is all well and good, but in truth, your heart yearns for nothing more than to simply be free. Even if all that’s out there is more grass and trees, just as there is all around you, oh what you’d give for the chance to see it. To touch the grass and leaves you’ve never seen before. To feel and smell the wind in it’s wild, untamed stomping grounds. Some days you dream of just running away, but…

Well, your guard would never allow it. And, here you are, getting assigned yet another figure to keep an eye on you in the name of your father.

A blast of trumpets shatters your daydream as your attention is called back to present. The royal scribe stands on a podium, announcing the main attraction at last. He reads off a long, tiresome list of names “Sir this and that”, “Lord ho hum”, ugh… At least the fighting should be entertaining, you suppose.

There are several rounds and three main competitions: Jousting, Dueling, and Archery. Score will be kept and knights slowly eliminated until a final two are left, at which point, the two will engage in a duel and may the best man win.

Admittedly, you tune out for the first several rounds until the riff raff and washed up old timers are sorted out. Not as though you have any say in the matter, but you pick a few favorites and follow their progress through the competition. Although in all honesty, you pick said favorites by their horses and the colors and patterns of their coat of arms.

However… One knight in particular has caught your eye both in skill and trappings.

His coat of arms features a fierce looking tiger and swords, the style of which tells you his family hails from somewhere out east, and his horse is a lovely dusty grey. Even you must admit, his skills so far aren’t bad either. He’s coasting through the competition with little difficulty and, even with the few close calls here and there, by the time he’s made it up to the final rounds you would almost dare to say you have your heart set on him.

Silently you root him on as he tiredly batters through opponent after opponent, somehow maintaining strength and endurance up until the very last man. A few breaks have been called in between rounds up until this point, but now the last two will be taking a long recession before the final fight.

Food and drink and dance is had once more for peasants and nobility alike while each knight gathers their strength, but you can’t keep your mind off the excitement of the final duel...

When at last, the time has come, you’re on the edge of your seat.

Once more the scribe’s voice rings out over the silent crowd as the two men ready themselves in opposing corners of the muddy sparring ring, “Fighting for the honor of being named the new protectorate of the Princess, Sir Weaver and Lord Fletcher will face each other in armed combat! The rules are as follows-”

The scribe's voice fades away, and immediatly your mind begins to wander.

Sir Weaver…

The name rolls off your tongue as you watch him pace and stretch in his corner of the ring. He’s armed with a sword and shield, classic weapons of the heroes of old, just like in your books and sonnets… His shield is tall and rectangular, with that very same tiger proudly emblazoned on its front. He gives his sword a few test swings and even from here you can hear the ringing of razor sharp steel.

His opponent wields a smaller shield and a rather nasty looking mace, a classic for smashing heads and armor alike. Thankfully you won’t have to bear witness to such violence should Sir Weaver lose, but you don’t much fancy the idea of such a savage weapon anyway. It may have its place in battle, but it doesn’t seem very… Heroic.

After far too much more courtly addresses, a trumpet sounds to begin the fight.

The Lord charges the Knight, mace raised to strike, as Sir Weaver stands his ground like a tower of strength. He deflects the blow easily, as well as the few more that come after it. A smart tactic, you observe, letting the opponent come to him and tire himself out. Lord Fletcher seems to believe that he can smash right through the great steel shield as that’s where most of his strikes end up landing. Sir Weaver’s tiger is quite battered, but holds out well.

All the overhead motions of the mace swings prove to be a disservice soon enough though, as the knight stabs his way through chinks in the armor here and there as the Lord slowly grows more and more weary. His movements become sluggish and desperate, a lethal combo, and before long the mud is mixed red with the wounds of the mace wielding Lord.

To his credit, he fights to the bitter end, but the duel is called before too much blood is shed.

A roar of approval goes up from the crowd. Amidst the cheering and the fanfare, Sir Weaver bows politely before the royal family and makes to exit the arena. You cock an eyebrow. Curious, you would’ve expected more of a show given the grand odds he just overcame.

Regardless, you clap politely and watch the two men exit the ring. It’s nearly night by now and there’s still more to do. Tomorrow your new knight will be sworn in and given his orders and hours and so forth… But for now, you have many things to tell your journal tonight.

---

The next day begins as it always does. You wake up at sunrise. Your chamber maid helps you dress, pick out your outfit for the day, and style your hair. Finally, you’re ready to join your family and the court for breakfast. A few questions come your way asking about whether or not you’re excited to meet your new knight and what you thought of the tourney yesterday, but otherwise you’re ignored as usual.

When breakfast passes, the court moves on to the throne room. It’s easily the most illustrious room in the palace, save for perhaps a few that suit your particular tastes. Small windows sit high above near the vaulted ceiling, raining in sunlight and fresh air from far above. Giant chandeliers hang proudly, holding a dizzying host of candles. The walls are blanketed in gorgeous tapestries, some of which you’ve had the honor of assisting in the weaving of. They’re laced with threads of gold and silk, and when they catch the light just right, they give off an ethereal glow, bringing the stagnant scenes to life.

The typical court proceedings will begin shortly, but first the matter of your new bodyguard is to be addressed. Soon enough, Sir Grigori Weaver of, so on and so forth… is announced to the court. Finally, something interesting for the day. You sit up properly in your throne and take in the sight.

He’s dressed in an appropriately fancy set of gambeson and hose, clearly his armor is off to be under repairs. His one arm hangs freely, the other rests on the pommel of his sword, and he takes a brief look at his surroundings. He carries himself with purpose and a serious air which could almost take a turn for intimidating given a closer look. His face is rough with prickly stubble contrasted by a long, smooth mustache and hair combo. Between the two lies no feature of note aside from a grizzly scar running across a cloudy white, useless eye.

Sir Weaver nods towards you and your mother, then offers your father a proper bow, “My liege”

Your father smiles, and you can already tell you’re about to be stuck with this man whether you like it or not. He tells the knight to rise and after a brief exchange of greeting, Sir Weaver is sworn into your service complete with the whole ceremonial nonsense.

You rise and come forward, standing just a few steps above him on the throne platform. He hands you his sword and kneels before you. Without the help of any prompting, you lead him through the oath phrase by phrase and at last you tap either of his shoulders with the flat of the blade. To seal it all, you extend your hand with your signet ring.

“Thank you, my lady”, he takes your hand softly and kisses your knuckle, “I am yours”

He rises and accepts back his blade while you return to your throne. Your father makes arrangements for a whole new suit of armor to be commissioned for your knight, after all, his safety is your safety, and so forth. But for once, you don’t mind the droning on of court business.

It gives you some time to hide your blush.

#call of duty #black ops cold war #grigori weaver x reader

48 notes · View notes

falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Note

hey love🥺🥺

can i request smth for aragorn pls🥺🥺 prob based on this post cus hes so crazy HOT in this but yeah everything else is up to u!! hope ur having a wonderful day<3

Yes girl here we go. I hope this is alright.

Aragorn x Elven reader - Find Me

Summary: With your elven duties done for the time being, your heart yearns for a certain Ranger as he travels in the wilds of Middle Earth.

Warning: fluff, Aragorn just being a beautiful softy

Folding your arms you look out upon the great valley of Rivendell, with her beautiful elven homes, shimmering waterfalls, and never ending ability to always have singing nearby from elven voices of pure golden honey.

You truly love this place with all of your very heart and soul, it has been your home for the past four-thousand years or so, but in the recent five-hundred have you been traveling throughout the wilds of middle earth in search of adventure. But it would just so happen that on one of your travels through a lonely mountain range did you happen to come face to face with the dirty but admittedly handsome likeness of a Ranger.

His crystal blue eyes grew wide in awe and wonder as your angelic form drew forth from the woodland, it was like all troubles and fear had vacated from his body the moment those beautiful ocean irises saw your smiling face. He was undoubtedly aware that you were in fact an elf, but his heart swelled anyways and he blessed whoever would listen for a single chance in all his lifetime to have seen your face just this once.

Though this would not be the last time you’d meet him, far from it, it just so happened that when looking upon his scruffy face did you feel an intense pull to him in a way that you couldn’t explain, nor have ever felt before. It was a strange but wonderful feeling all in one, that night would the two of you talk for hours. Leading into a week of traveling with him, this Ranger seemed content and joyous with your company.

It did not take long for feelings to grow and spark into a magnificent fire, swirling with admiration, respect, trust, and love for one another. It did not feel rushed, it felt completely right, like you had waited this long for something so pure and meaningful, and were not disappointed in the slightest.

This handsome Ranger would not utter his true name until the next time you two would meet, a year and a half later after you had to assist Elrond with something gravely important dealing with some strange pack of dwarves and a quest to claim their homeland. The things you do for that elf.

Though when you returned to the wilds, and it did take some skilled tracking, you had found him once more and still looking as dashing as ever. Though this time he greeted you with a chaste kiss, his eyes so full of love and relief for your safe return to him after such a long time apart. Under the stars, wrapped up in his arms with the light of a lowly burning fire flicking shadows across your faces. Did the Ranger tell you his name, Aragorn, your heart leapt with joy once the words had parted from his lips.

Aragorn.

You would learn of his heritage and that he was the rightful king of the great white city, so far away. But just the same you would accept him anyways, he was grateful and loved you twice as much. In the next couple years would you leave for Rivendell and your duties then return to your Ranger, staying with him for months on end, the two of you soaking up every moment together with stories, fleeting glances, laughter, and the sweetest of kisses.

Though right now, standing on a grand balcony in your true home of Rivendell do you feel that familiar pang of longing deep in your heart, you miss Aragorn more then you’d be able to say with words. But Elrond has needed you recently, claiming no other elf can slay so many orcs with such stealth and precision. Indeed a truthful compliment, and yes you’ve upheld to your duties to protect the realm, but you can’t help but feel called to your Ranger.

He misses you deeply.

You tilt your head to the sky as a light soft breeze caresses your face, you can hear the familiar patter of light footsteps as they walk down the steps behind you. Crossing the opened room, the source of the intrusion stands by your side, yet he is still a calm and comforting presence, “My dear Y/N, you have done well to protect these lands in the past couple months. But I can’t help but notice how your smile seems fleeting these days. What troubles you?”

Sighing you glance at Lord Elrond, “The Ranger.”

“Aragorn.” He says knowingly with the tiniest of smiles.

“Yes. It has been many moons since last we parted, I worry for him. But I understand that I must keep to my duties here. So I will stay.”

Elrond smiles like a kind father, “So it would appear that the world would have you two meet once again. I ask you this, Y/N. Would you find your Ranger and bring him to Rivendell, I very much would like to speak to him again.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, your heart practically leaping with joy, “I would be honored.” You laugh, “Like you had to ask my dear friend, he will not be able to hide from me. I will find him in due time.”

The old elf smiles, “I do not doubt it. Your tracking skills are rather outstanding, though your heart leads you in more ways then you know.”

“Always with the wise words,” You tease, “you’re around Gandalf too much I can tell.”

“Oh Y/N.” A small chuckle escapes him, “Maybe so....but I must tell you, your horse will be awaiting you at dawn. Your weapons and travel pack just the same, stay safe, I fear more beasts lurk around every corner these days.” He warns.

“Well, perhaps it’s a good thing I know how to use a sword. And with my bow, they’ll never see me coming.” You add with a sly grin, he nods in agreeance.

“Til we meet again, Y/N.” Finally speaks Lord Elrond handing you a small smile as he turns to leave and go about his other duties.

“Farewell.”

In the early hours of the morning, just before the sun began her bright ascent into the clouds, did you make way for the mountain pass. Atop of your dashing steed, sword at your hip, bow held to your back, and determination in your heart.

To find your sweet Aragorn.

It had been many days, then turning into a couple weeks of riding and endless tracking before finally, finally, did your elven eyes land on a familiar boot print in the mud. A horses hoof by its side, not even three days old, he is close now. But as you take another few steps does your nose crinkle in disgust, you follow the scent to a tree where a dead orc is laying upon the ground rotting from a slice to its neck and chest.

Aragorn.

He was without a doubt here, the evidence is truly telling. You turn, quickly throwing yourself atop your horse before taking off in the direction of the tracks. Just as you’d thought, it would take about a day and a half to find him. His trail leading into the woods, a thicker more secluded wood, full of great green pines and giant ferns littering the opened ground. Sliding off of your horse, you walk around to her front, grabbing the leather reins to lead her forward into the unknown.

Not even an hour later do your pointed ears pick up the sounds of someone trying to dig out roots, if they were attempting to be quiet, mission failed. Not wanting to be made known of your presence, you leave your loyal steed by a downed log and stealthy walk your way to the source of the noise.

Is it him?

As silent as an owl in flight do you unsheathe your shimmering silver sword, it flashes in the dying sunlight as you take cautious feather light steps to a certain Ranger, he’s almost hilariously oblivious to your staring. You watch as he cuts out a thick root from the disturbed earth, you glance to your right and notice his horse, it feeds unaware to your presence.

With a smirk do you take another couple steps forward, he doesn’t even know, another step now and you’re an arms reach away. As sly as a fox do you bring your sleek blade to the side of his throat, he tenses immediately.

“What’s this? A Ranger caught off his guard?” You smirk, a mischievous tinge to your voice as he lets out a breath. His body relaxing once again as you move your blade from his throat, sheathing it once more.

A smile graces his lips as he slowly stands up, turning around to face you with those beautiful blue eyes of his, “Y/N.” You smirk at him. He’s so close now.

“Aragorn.”

You don’t have time to speak another word, for your king has captured you in his arms, blessing your lips with a warm kiss, it’s full of love, longing, and adoration. You can tell how much he’s missed you after these longs months apart, hopefully he’s able to tell how much you happen to feel the same. After another couple wonderful seconds does he pull away for breath, his hands hugging your sides close as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Meleth nin.” Whispers your Ranger, “What brings you to the wilds? I thought Lord Elrond was in grave need of you for something important?”

You smile, “That time has passed. My duties are done for now, I could not bare to keep away from you for much longer. It would have driven me mad.” He tilts his head to kiss the tip of your nose affectionately.

“You’ve blessed my soul once more, Y/N. My moon amongst the darkness, I am grateful to see your face once again.”

“Aragorn.” You speak breathlessly at his heartfelt words, you hug him tighter, a warmness blooming from deep within your chest, “Come with me back to Rivendell. Elrond has missed your company and I would very much enjoy having you close.”

“Then I am yours my lady.” He whispers lovingly into the evening air, your heart flutters with excitement.

The journey back to Rivendell felt much shorter and less lonely with your dirty faced Ranger by your side keeping you company and warm on the cool nights as you both slept underneath the thousands of dazzling stars. Soon enough your horses had made their way onto the white stone path leading into the great kingdom. Birds chirp happily from nearby as you both listen to the soft roaring of the waterfalls.

You and Aragorn ride up to the front, a long stairwell in front of you leading into a large gathering area, your horse neighs as footsteps be fall upon the pale stone steps. Your elven eyes glance up to find Lindir as he carefully walks down the steps, stopping on a flat platform just above more of the marble stairs.

“My Lady Y/N, Aragorn, it is a pleasant sight to see the both of you doing well on this fine morning.” States Lindir with a genuine smile.

You laugh, “You mean to say, it’s good that we have not been slain by goblins in the dead of night?” Aragorn chuckles from behind you as he sits upon his steed.

The elven man blinks, a small laugh escapes him, “Perhaps that was what I happened to be implying. These days we can never be to careful, terrible beasts lurking around every corner it seems.” He pauses for a moment, remembering what he came down here for, “Forgive me, I meant to ask if you’d join Lord Elrond for breakfast, he is eager to speak with Aragorn...I will have my men take care of your horses. You two must be tired, I will have baths prepared for you two at once. Excuse me for now, my friends.” Rambles Lindir as both you and Aragorn jump down from your horses, two elves coming to your aid as they take the leather reigns from each of your hands.

As they guide the loyal beasts away, you turn to take a step up the stairs, stopping to look at Aragorn, “Now you.” Your eyes trail him up and down, “definitely need a bath.”

He jogs up the steps, coming to a halt next to you, “Have you seem your face melleth nin.” He teases, though you don’t have a speck of dirt on your skin, being an elf does have its perks like that.

You laugh, “I don’t need to my love, I’m already the most radiant creature you’ve ever been lucky enough to see.” The most adorable smile breaks out upon his dirt smudged face as a light pink dusts his scruffy cheeks, even knowing you for so long are you still able to make him blush.

“Perhaps I cannot disagree there. Now let’s get something to eat.” He adds with a smile, a flash of excitement crossing his features as he thinks of actual real food.

You playfully scoff, “And you a bath.”

“Am I not the most radiant creature in all the land?” He teases.

Rolling your eyes you let out a chuckle before continuing to walk up the stairs, “Aragorn. Come on.” He smiles while watching you lead, feeling rather blessed to have you so near once again.

——

Breakfast had been delicious without a doubt and your bath was warm and definitely needed, even if you can’t seem to get as dirty as a certain someone. Now dressed in your normal elven attire do you wander around the halls of Rivendell in search of your Ranger who has appeared to have gotten himself lost. Well not really, you’ve more so misplaced him, this kingdom is rather big after all.

Not even ten minutes later do you find him, he’s standing on the edge of a crystal blue pool, watching as some beautifully colored fish swim around the water unbothered and free. You slowly walk into the opening of the large room, taking light steps to see if you can sneak up on him again. Your breathing is low as you skillfully take your time to cross the room.

But alas your plans are foiled once he happens to glance in your direction, his blue eyes locking onto your smirking face as he takes you all in, “Were you trying to scare me?” He wonders in that velvety voice of his.

You bite your lip, taking a few more casual steps forward as you gently touch the side of his arm, “Me? Scaring you? I would never do such a thing.” You play off, he laces his arm through yours as you both begin walking towards a balcony.

“Your absence these last couple months have been more taxing then I had first realized.” Begins your sweet Aragorn, shifting the mood to a more serious tone, “But I am glad to have you now, my dear Y/N, thank you for coming back to me.”

You hand him a kind smile, “I will always come back to you, in every lifetime, you may be the most skilled hunter I have ever known. But I will always be able to find my way to you.” You lightly squeeze his bicep with your free hand, “I love you more then life, you know this.”

His eyes look to the floor for a moment, “Are you still certain?” He asks, finding your gaze once again, though you know exactly what it means.

You nod, “Without a doubt in my heart, I am.”

He brings you to the balcony overlooking all of Rivendell in all of her grand beauty, his face true as he looks deeply into your eyes, “You know what your choice means Y/N, my life may be longer then most men’s, but I don’t want you to give up your life for mine.”

You gently touch the side of his cheek, your other hand pressed against his chest as he holds onto it tightly, “Aragorn. I have lived many lifetimes on this earth, and in every one of them alone. Indeed I am very old, but I would rather be apart of yours then suffer another three thousand alone. It is not your fault that I feel this way for you, you have to understand that.”

He sighs, looking deeply into your loving eyes, “But your life here.”

Shaking your head you smile, “My true family has been sleeping in the ground since the last great war for middle earth, all I have left his Elrond. I made my choice the moment I decided to follow you into the wilds. You are all that I want, all that I care for in this life, do not push me away because you think I should live longer.”

He frowns, “I would never do that to you, I swear it. I just want you to be happy, that is all I care about.” Oh, Aragorn you sweet man.

You remove your hand from his cheek to gently hold his arm that’s wrapped around your side, “I am, and I plan to follow you to death, I don’t believe even a Balrog could make me leave your side.”

He chuckles holding you closer, “Y/N, I do not deserve you.”

You let out a quick laugh, “Definitely not.”

#aragorn x you #aragorn x reader #aragorn #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagines #middle earth imagine #king of gondor

113 notes · View notes

morganas-pendragons · 4 years

Text

my privilege, my honor | rex

this was a concept i could not pass up when i got into this conversation with someone on twitter. dad!rex is life. this’ll be split up into parts within a whole (finding out you’re pregnant, pregnancy, birth, life after, etc) and is au in which the war is won by the republic and the clones are freed because i SAID SO.

this is long rip me - i worked all afternoon on this please give me something

also, rex&munitions!reader live on naboo in the back country where padmé wanted to raise the twins and does because AU!!!!

tag: @obiorbenkenobi // @icanbringyouincold // @thegoodbatch // @amazinggraceling // @cxptain-rex // @spaghetti-666 // @kaikai1324 // @jellyfishpoptart // @colorfulloverbatturkey

In the back corner of the lake country on Naboo, there lives a soldier. Well... he doesn’t call himself that anymore. Not since they won the war. The story that you are familiar with is different in other universes. Less people die. Grief is openly felt and not hidden, mourning happens for the fallen, The Republic works together to unite against a common enemy.

In this story, Anakin Skywalker does not fall. Ahsoka Tano is soon treated with dignity and respect and eventually returns to The Jedi Order. Obi-Wan Kenobi is given the help he needs to be the best Jedi he can be. This story is much happier because they won the war here. Anakin discovers the threat of the Sith far before it’s too late, and Sheev Palpatine remains nothing but a corpse with a soul that has gone to the stars.

In this story, darkness does not prevail. Light does.

Padmé Amidala-Skywalker is a genius. A renowned politician of The Senate and former Queen of Naboo, she works closely with the clones and specific Jedi who advocate for them to ensure they are no longer treated as Republic property and are treated as the people who have earned their right to freedom.

When Cody comes to the barracks to announce to his vod that the bill was passed through the senate, the clones are too riled up to sleep and thus throw the biggest celebration of a lifetime.

In a back corner of Seventy Nines far away from the prying eyes of his brothers and against a wall adjacent to the rear door, Rex kisses the living daylights out of you. You are no longer committed to the GAR and he’s free - he didn’t think he’d ever get to the point where he’d be considered a man and not a weapon - but the way your fingers thread tightly through his hair and your knee slots between his legs to pin him against that wall is the most freeing thing Rex has done in his life.

Because he can do this now. He’s allowed to show his love in front of everybody.

“Rex,” Your voice is thick with the drink you’d been consuming before you’d dragged him over here as you pull away just enough to meet his eyes in the darkness. “Take me.”

Had this been a year ago or more, Rex would’ve been so stunned by your demand that he would’ve paid for a cab like the good gentleman he was (with Skywalkers credit chit of course) and taken you back to the barracks to hide away in your quarters where he could take you in a bed.. but that’s not Rex now. No. Rex now is desperate and wanting.

“Bathroom?”

“Bathroom.”

The spare bathroom at the back of the bar is exactly what you need, and before you know it, the Clone Commander has your legs wrapped around his waist and your body poised on the sink. It’s a good thing you’d jimmied the lock on the door to buy yourself enough time to be ravished.

By the time Fives and Echo find you both, you’re walking out of the bathroom looking more guilty then you should but you can’t stop smiling because of how flustered you’d managed to make Rex in..

“I think that’s the fastest quickie we’ve ever done.” You nudge his hip with your own and sling your arm around his waist to pull him against you.

“What’s the record now?”

Oh, of course he’s been keeping track. Kriffing di’kut.

“Six and a half minutes.”

You’re really hoping that Rex isn’t the type to brag about this to his brothers, but if he is, you’d rather him do it when you’re not around. He has to clean up his meager amount of belongings from the GAR barracks before meeting Cody to discuss transport to the planets that gave given permission for the clones to be granted citizenship.

One of them is Naboo. Skywalker and Amidala have already made their way there after the birth of their twins and Anakin leaving The Order, but you have a couple of people you want to say goodbye to before this is really over. Before you all go your separate ways to live your own lives.

But oh.. no matter where, you’ll love them all. They’re the only family you’ve had and will always have. It’s not goodbye forever. It’s just the end with another beginning on its way.

“I’ll see you later, cyar’ika.” He kisses your temple and allows Cody and Jesse to take him away for one last night together with his brothers. You watch him go with a fond smile. He deserves this.

The minute you get back to your quarters, the first thing you do is call Padmé Amidala.

***

Well, if you’re gonna find out about this, you’d rather it be this way then by your own panic.

You and Rex are welcomed by Padmé and Anakin on Naboo in the Naberrie family home until they’re able to procure their own house, and Anakin seemed to be.. ah.. attuned to something in The Force that was swirling around you. Rex and Padmé are in the nursery tending to the twins - he loves them and you love how much he loves them - but Anakin has kept you behind to talk about what is clearly bothering him more then it’s bothering you.

“Wait-Are you serious?” You ask skeptically. “I know you had your opinions about me, Skywalker, but I treat your former commander with reverence and if this is some cruel joke-”

Anakin held up a hand. “I could tell with Padmé pretty quickly. It’s not hard to tell with The Force, and you’re practically glowing even without being Force Sensitive.” Both your eyes slid to the balcony where you could very clearly see Rex sitting in one of the chairs while Padmé fed Luke, who was now a couple of months old, and blew raspberries on Leia’s stomach to elicit a screech from the baby girl.

Your heart clenches. That’s... that’s so stupidly cute. And he’s.. he’s smiling.

“You should tell him.” Anakin whispers. “I know Rex was skeptical about having a family at the start of the war when he met that deserter.. but honestly, I think he’s reconsidered it since he met you.” The man who had very very quickly become like your brother rested his head against your own as you exhaled a very slow breath. “Tell him.”

You do tell him later on that night long after Padmé and Anakin go to bed. He goes wide eyed at the remark - because how on EARTH are YOU going to create and carry a human inside your body?! - and you’re almost expecting him to cry, which he does, but there’s happy tears and disbelieving laughter and before you know it, he’s spinning you around the living room and burying his face in your shoulder as you celebrate yet another victory for you both.

When Rex goes to sleep that night with Luke in his arm and Leia against your chest (you’re really interim parents so the Skywalkers can sleep) he dreams about Cody and his brothers joy for his future niece or nephew.

The first thing you see upon waking up that morning is the life-size holo of Cody, Wolffe and Jesse who are cheering in strings of Mando’a that you can’t make out well, but you know what they’re so joyful about. They’re gonna have a niece. A nephew.

In front of them, your former soldier smiles so widely that it sharpens the tears that pool in his eyes.

***

In the back corner of the lake country on Naboo, former soldiers get to work building a house. A house not made by hands - that’s not all - but by and with love and hope.

Laughter echoed in the fields of wildflowers as you watch Cody and Rex hurl insults at one another when something doesn’t quite go the way they want it to. After your pregnancy announcement and the wedding - which was just as exciting as the pregnancy - Rex had ultimately come to one decision: He loved General Skywalker but not enough to live with him, his wife, and his two twins.

Rex wants his own home which means he’s gonna build it with his own hands and the help of his insufferable brothers.

Walking through the fields of wildflowers that are just outside the area Rex has chosen to hold the foundations of your new home, you hum quietly to yourself as you take flowers and begin to braid them into your hair.

In the distance, Wolffe yells something crude in Mando’a that makes Jesse laugh hard enough to the point where if Kix hadn’t been there to catch him by his blacks, he would’ve fallen off the roof.

“Cyar’ika, c’mere!”

Rex appears just inside what’s supposed to be your front door. He’s really acclimated to the climate of Naboo - even going as far as to let his hair grow out more then it had been during the war - and he’s wearing a shirt with no sleeves which shows the tattoo he’d gotten when the Clone Wars had ended.

He’s beautiful. Seriously.

“Is someone injured?” You cast a skeptical look at Cody, Boil and Wooley who are looking at a rough sketch Rex had done on his datapad for what he planned for this house to look like. “Maybe Jesse’s dignity? Fives will to live?”

“I heard that!”

“No.. no.” Rex shakes his head and wraps his arms around your middle, hands coming to comfortably rest on the swell of your stomach. You’re only a couple of months along and are just barely beginning to show, but that doesn’t mean he won’t touch that bump every single change he gets. “I just want you to look at it with me.” Both pairs of eyes flicker to the house in front of you. “It’s ours. Our home.”

Yours.

That sounds like a dream.

***

Rex is, without a doubt, the best person you could’ve chosen to be the father of your child. He purchases a speeder after a little haggling with a trader in Theed and accompanies you to all your appointments, uses the credits Anakin had given him that he’d accumulated from his time in The Order to buy the food you most crave, and wakes up to be your personal pillow when you’re heavily pregnant and cannot for the life of you find a comfortable sleeping position.

By the time your delivery comes, he’s practically a walking disaster that somehow manages to inform Padmé, Anakin and Ahsoka (who had been there that week to visit her brother and her nephew/niece) about the delivery and to meet you at the medical station in Theed.

You don’t know this, but his brothers come too. The waiting room is filled with anxious uncles.

After a nearly effortless delivery on your part, you were staring up at your husband as he was handed your daughter by the medical droid.

It’s like the sun admiring all the stars in the galaxy. Rex looks at your daughter like he cannot believe you just birthed something so beautiful, and for a moment... you allow yourself to weep at just how awed the man is by the sight of his own child.

“Rex-” You croak, gasping for breaths between your tears as you motion to your husband. “That’s your kih ad.”

Amber irises flicker over to meet yours as your daughter lets out a wail so loud that Rex cannnot seem to comprehend that a creature that tiny just made such a sound.

“What do you want to name her?” He asks as he hands his little girl back over to you reluctantly, clearly wishing to keep hold of her for a little while longer before handing her off to the medical droid for cleaning. “She’s not just my daughter, you know.”

“Alaia.” You say it so quickly and without hesitation that Rex is taken a back by how sure you are. “It means joy.”

Considering how much joy that little girl ends up bringing to your lives, there’s no surprise that’s the name you choose. And oh.. speaking of joy.. it’s only mere days later when Rex finally lets his brothers - who had barely left the waiting room other then to go back to your cottage and refresh themselves - see their niece, it’s like a stampede of over eager children coming into your hospital room.

Cody brings you flowers. He’s respectful like that. Jesse is just too thrilled at the prospect of having a niece that he too brings you flowers, but they’re native to Naboo. If you’re right.. they come from outside your home.

The sight is enough to make you lean out of bed just enough to kiss his cheek. He swoons at the gesture and nearly passes out. Di’kut.

The remaining members of The Wolf Pack who had been given citizenship on a world in the Inner Rim with the help of Plo-Koon follow suit the day that you’re discharged from the hospital because they’ve been tending to your house in the absence of their brother, and Wolffe is the one you see first.

He doesn’t tend to come around alot but the sight of him and how he gasps at the sight of the child in your arms is enough to make you beam for the millionth time. All the clones are surprised by the sight of a baby. That doesn’t address the fact that said baby is the child of a clone.

It’s like a dream come true for them.

“Skywalker’s wife said you’d like this, and so did Tano.” He holds up a bright pink onesie that reads proud niece of a million uncles and the sight of it is enough to make you laugh so hard you wheeze because that is so something Anakin and Ahsoka would find hilarious.

Alaia wears it to bed for her first night in your home.

***

alaia - five months old

Maker.. there’s alot of stars out tonight.

At the cry of your daughters voice, Rex peels himself away from the warmth of your body and rubs the sleep from his eyes before moving across the master bedroom to retrieve his little girl from her crib.

The same crib that had taken him, Fives, Cody and Echo to build. Cody and Echo ended up having to do it because Rex had Fives in a headlock by the time they were halfway through assembling the kriffing thing.

“Alaia, ner ad,” He whispers lowly, scooping the baby from her crib and moving to the balcony before quietly shutting the door behind him. It’s not often that he’s unable to sleep anymore. There are rare occasions, like tonight, which memories of the war keep him awake. The nightmares stopped a long time ago. He’s at peace now. Mostly. “Sh.. sweet pea. We don’t want to wake your mother.”

Just as he’s done since you made him aware that she was teething, Rex nudges her lips open and allows Alaia to suck on his fingertip. She goes quiet immediately at the relief it brings.

“You know, I don’t know if you dream.. but I do. I dream about the war. If you dream... I hope you dream about me and your mom. I want to be a good father. It’s better then not having a dad at all like I didn’t.”

He goes silent at that. The closest thing he’d ever had to a father was Kenobi, and even he had been more like a brother to the clones by the end of the war. Anakin was just... he had his own struggles, he’d trusted Rex with information he couldn’t even trust Obi-Wan with and the thought of being so wholly trusted by someone again terrifies him.

That will be his daughter. His undoing will be how much she trusts him, and it’ll be how much he loves her and you.

On the balcony of a cottage home in the lake country on Naboo, a former soldier sleeps, and his infant daughter dreams. Together they are bathed in starlight.

***

Alaia - five years old

When Alaia is old enough to take into the fields outside of your house, you sit on the porch and watch Rex trek into the wildflowers with his little girl on his shoulders.

You watch from the porch with a cup of tea as your little girl toddles through the flowers that have just recently sprouted from the ground, and she yanks with all the might her little arms have to begin pulling them out.

Rex has been rather - ah- adamant that he’s going to keep his hair longer then it’s been in years. It’s not too long to curl over his ears, but it’s definitely not the normal haircut you’d grown so used to seeing on him.

Conveniently, for Alaia, it’s just long enough to stick flowers in.

“Oh, oh no. This I have to take part in.” You set down your cup of tea and move from the porch to meet your husband and daughter in the field. “Rex, cyar’ika, you know what this means.”

“Flower crowns, Mommy!” Alaia yells. “Flower crowns for daddy!”

The man is beaming as you sit down crosslegged and begin weaving the flowers together until you’re confident in your crown, and you turn towards Rex to place it gently against his forehead.

“A crown fit for a King.”

He smirks at you in that way that reminds you way too much of Anakin’s smugness and you quietly curse under your breath at the effect your former General had on his former Commander.

“Now we need a crown fit for a Queen and a princess.” Alaia screeches as Rex’s arms wind around her waist and his fingers dig into her stomach which elicits such a high pitched laughter you can’t help but smile at, and while you work on weaving two more crowns, Rex lays his daughter across his hands vertically and begins waving her little body around.

“Look Mommy!” Alaia cries out, face pinched in concentration as she sticks her arms out in front of her. “I’m flying!”

Fly high, little one.

***

In the lake country of Naboo lives a former soldier, a former officer and their daughter. Their daughter grows up surrounded by her uncles - Jesse, Fives, Echo and Cody are her favorites - and she learns Mando’a so quickly that by the time she’s eight, Alaia is as fluent as her uncles.

She grows up hearing stories about the uncles she lost. Her uncle Boil cries when he talks about Umbara and Waxer, and she reaches up and wipes tears from his face as he buries his face in waves of blonde hair. The uncles who survived Umbara don’t like to talk about it, but if they do, they leave out the stuff about war and talk about their fallen brothers.

Mama doesn’t want her to know anything but peace, and neither does Daddy. She trusts Daddy’s decision. Maybe it’s for the best.

“It is my privilege and my honor to be your father.” Rex’s fingers are nimbly braiding her hair back into the usual braid she’s kept it in since she was a child. The day is comfortable and her uncles are here with the twins while you’re in the capital city with Padmé.

“You’re talking like it’s the last time you’ll ever say that.”

“Well, if your mother finds out what I’m letting you do, yeah it’ll be the last time I ever speak.”

Anakin wants his kids to learn how to defend themselves. They probably can with a lightsaber just as well as he did at that age, but they’ve never done hand to hand before today’s training lesson. There’s no threat of war looming on the horizon but given that they’re both force sensitive, he wants them to have a good partner and for some reason that means Alaia gets to volunteer. All three kids are close enough in age to learn together.

“I’m gonna win.”

“It’s not a-” Rex pinches the bridge of his nose as Wolffe comes up behind his vod’ika and clasps her shoulders gently in his hands. If anyone is good at sparring, it’s him. “Oh, kriff it. Go on.”

Wolffe waits until you’re out on the porch and wrapping your hands to say it, “You’re too much like your buir bal ba’vodu.” He had feared initially that she’d be afraid of him because of his cybernetic, but after he’d told her how he lost it to Asajj, she hadn’t looked at him with fear one time since.

“Ni kar'taylir.”

Anakin stands on one side while Rex and Cody stands on the other, their spectators on the sidelines watching with wide eyes for something to go wrong.

“Alright. Luke,” Anakin nods to his son who tosses his saber behind him at the same time Leia does before they both turn towards Alaia. “Leia.. remember the rules. No Force Use.”

“What fun is that?!’’ Luke whines. “She’s not even Force Sensitive!”

Alaia, Luke and Leia are between the ages of fourteen to sixteen the first time they do this. Alaia has been raised to not fear Jedi, much less the children of The Hero With No Fear, so she simply approaches this as an obstacle to be conquered.

The daughter of the former soldier and officer of the Republic cracks her knuckles and eyes her opponents head on. The way she looks so much like Rex makes Anakin laugh. It’s downright terrifying.

Her ba’vodu cheer her on as Leia downright launches herself at Alaia, to which the girl simply pivots sharply on her heel and throws her hands up to defend herself from Luke’s attack. She isn’t aware of this, but Luke uses The Force to calculate each movement she makes. Leia doesn’t. He was the more attuned of the twins.

“Get him, vod’ika!”

“Show them who’s boss!”

Rex is utterly stupefied by the way Alaia moves. Of course, Luke and Leia do catch her off guard a couple of times, but part of him has always wondered if the ‘’soldier’’ part of him would be passed off his kids. That part of him that was a fighter from birth. It seemed he was right.

You’re gonna kill him when you get back.

His daughter throws her elbow right into Luke’s nose - Leia had yielded when she’d been subject to a pretty brutal chokehold - and flips him over her shoulder without so much as an issue, and the older Skywalker twin slams his hand against the ground before she can so much as try to incapacitate him further.

“Do you yield?”

“I-I yield, you-you insufferable gundark!”

The two teenagers are too busy arguing with each other while the clones laugh hysterically in the background and Kix tends to Leia to ensure she’s alright to notice the return of both you and Padmé.

“What’s going on here?” You question, arching an eyebrow at the pair of husbands in front of you who both turn around and are so guilty that they’re both blushing deep scarlet. “Rex?”

“Cyar’ika, I can explain-”

You extend your arm to where Alaia is being held back by Fives and Jesse and Luke is cursing fluently in Huttese while Kix tends to his nose. “I was waiting for the day you’d crack and see what she could do!” You exclaim. “Kriff, Rex.. She nearly broke my nose when she was a toddler because I told her she had to eat her vegetables! Or do you remember the time we took her to see Obi-Wan and Ahsoka on Coruscant and she yelled ‘’leave my dad alone you di’kuts’’ to a bunch of Jedi?!”

“Yeah-Yeah, I do.” He’d laughed at that when it happened and he’d laugh at it now.

Rex slings an arm over your shoulders as Echo and Cody exit the house beckoning you all for lunch before murmuring, “It’s good to be home.”

Your eyes flicker to the Skywalkers and to the clones who are all chattering along in a way that just feels so alive. So unlike any dream you’d ever had before the war ended, and it makes you realize that yeah... it is good to be home.

#Captain Rex x Reader #Rex x Reader #Star Wars oneshots #Star Wars imagines

815 notes · View notes

azurevi · 4 years

Text

3 halloween tales (cater, jade & vil)

This is really random, but the ssr cards for the halloween show have given me many au ideas, so here are my self-indulgent stories inspired by them. The Cater one is especially long because I got a lot of ideas about it. For the Vil one.. it's pretty disappointing how it turned out, but I hope it's not too bad. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!

WARNINGS : death (all), mild mention of gore (cater), war + mild possessiveness + violence (jade) [let me know if there're more!]

the heart and its eternal weight

Cater is a cemetery caretaker. It isn't that he really loves it, but his father was one. He feels like it is only right to take after his steps.

He isn't into superstitions. Some people find distaste in his job, but it's something crucial for Cater. People, even after they're dead, should still be honored, and so deserve a hospitable place to rest.

Everyday is a routine for him. Sometimes, though, the families of the passed talk to him about their stories and their emptiness once their loved ones are gone. Cater finds the beauty and softness in humans by hearing these stories, and it makes him even more dedicated to his job.

It's natural to him, dying. His father was killed in an unintended accident, and sometimes it seems like his death could have been avoidable just as much as it was inevitable. He just wishes that he had had more time with him.

One of the lessons his father taught him about graveyard caretaking is to beware of ghosts. Those who recently died are more visible and intimate with the world of the living, and so they might appear before humans. Some are inhostile, of course, but there are malevolent ones.

Lore has it that some ghosts prey on hearts. It is said that the heart is the most important part of a human, as it is accountable for life, death and emotions. People believe that ghosts can be revived with a fresh, still-beating heart, and as a result the human giving up their heart will die in place of the ghost. Basically, the heart can also create ripples in the fabric of space-time.

Because of his job, he isn't all that popular among others, and he only has a few life-long close friends, his mother and sisters by him. So even if he has a crush on the most admirable person he's ever seen, he still won't make it known in fear of rejection. He figures that he still has time to figure it out.

And he's wrong. News about your tragic death spread around quickly like wildfire, and he's devastated. It feels wrong to even feel so, because he has never been acquainted with you in the first place.

Your body is buried in his cemetery, and a lot of people come to your funeral that day. Some of your family members are so heartbroken and pitiable, and so Cater offered to be their listener.

All he can hear is about the great work you've done, the care you put into everyone you met, the warmth that radiated off you while you were still alive. It breaks Cater how he's never had the privilege to know you, to experience all your graces with his own perspective.

One night, the moon is lit and hung up high in the sky, so close that it seems to be prying on Earth and the people roaming on it. Cater is patrolling with his lawnmower when he hears quiet and uncertain sobs.

He is creeped out, yes, but he's also curious. He's never seen a ghost before, and it could be a human for all he knows.

He's proved wrong once again, as he discovers your opaque body behind a giant tree. You are hugging their legs close to your chest, and a rotting hole's visible where your heart should be.

There's no way you can be hostile, and you certainly won't kill him for his heart, so Cater decides to approach you gently, tentatively, like you're smoke that will disperse the moment he intrudes.

To his surprise, you can hear him clearly, and even invite him to sit down with him. It's so bizarre -- a ghost asking for a conversation! But Cater doesn't mind as he pops down beside you. He notices how although you were no longer solid, it still feels like tense when his hand passes through you. Certainly it's because you've been dead not for long.

And so the two of you indulge in heartful conversations, and Cater finds himself regretting even more about how he never gathered the courage to go up to you. Mid-conversation you tell him about all the things that you wish you could've done and all the ideas you wished to spread.

Cater probably shouldn't have, but he is so absorbed in your ambitions and kindness that he offers to carry out all these great things for you. After numerous confirmations, you agree too to let him carry out your thoughts.

And so Cater works in his neighbourhood, sharing campaigns and donating, taking care of lost pets and cats and partaking in environment improvement. He's never felt so fulfilled before, and it's the first time he feels like he's genuinely making a difference in the world.

In times he's not representing you, he brings you up on the little hill behind the cemetery where the moon and stars are so close and vibrant, where they all dance in the dark ballroom and pulse in excitement of being seen. He wishes he could show you more hidden gems, but your spectral spirit cannot be too far away from your body.

But it's enough.

A month passes and Cater notices subtle change in your behaviour as well as appearance, like how you're responding with less enthusiasm and how the hole in your chest is growing bigger. When he finally asks about it, he's told that ghosts generally only stay in the world of the living for 49 days, and their heart will rot away in this period. After that, they will have to go to the underworld, never be back again.

Cater is certainly shocked that the lore is more than a children's makeup story. He is well aware of the significance of the heart in relation to the soul and life.

He asks if you'd like to have his heart instead, so bluntly and casually. You seem to return to their original intimate self when you refuse.

"I'm already gone. It's you, the living, who should be making changes,"

So he pretends that you're not getting more and more unresponsive and less and less generous. He turns a blind eye against your wavering figure and how you can't be seen at all in the sun. He plays dumb when in reality, you're slipping away before his very own eyes, heart rotting away like nothing more than a fruit.

It hurts finally knowing and understanding someone and having to lose them.

On the 48th day, you are already but a still, soulless shadow, leaning beside your gravestone and fresh, white flowers. Cater can still see you. Sometimes he thinks that you chose to be seen.

And he can't bear to see you go. To see your dreams go into flames, to watch such a pretty soul just - vanish.

So he gives you his heart. Alive and beating and sentimental. It doesn't even hurt a bit.

You wake up immediately, your eyes glowing and body solidifying.

"What have you done?"

"What I can do to make a change,"

Time is starting to rewrite itself. Cater is going to die in your place. The space around you was warping and folding into itself, softly and rightly like a lullaby.

Just before you slip into darkness, you gather up a whole bunch of rose petals and desperately stuff them into the hole in Cater's chest, as if they can give him life in lieu of a heart, and you are sobbing and clinging onto his still warm arm, never wanting to let go.

It's all Cater wants, to save a wasted soul and to make a difference.

And so he cradles your face, and leans in the moment everything goes black. When he wakes up again, he's weightless in the cemetery, where a bunch of well arranged roses lie on his buried body.

a melancholy specimen

To Jade, beauty needs to be preserved to be constant. It's just like flowers. They die away without proper care.

Just when he thinks he's seen all the beauties of the world and is getting bored of it, he meets you. A blooming flower sparkling in the bland, old boring world around it. He's immediately captivated - how a person can still manage to flourish in such a rotten world where everything is depressing and all man is for themselves!

You're the most elegant piece of art he's seen, and that's something considering that he owns a museum. Innocence lies in your eyes and bravery sings itself between your lips.

You find him just equally amusing -- gentlemanly, insightful and just a touch of flirtation. The two of you fall in love like Alice down the rabbit hole - amused and unstoppable, fascinated by the wonders evolving about.

But the world doesn't give a damn about love, nor do they understand your dreams of a bright future where everything is close to hearts. They call you both madness and nonsense.

"Their souls are tainted with war and sorrow. They are beyond the point of rescue. Victory and glory are all that can feed their ego,"

Jade is disappointed. War has gouged people's eyes out and filled them with wails and ash.

The two of you are the only stars in the night sky, still fighting for salvation, yearning for a better future where trees grow and flowers yearn for the sun. You promote and do your best to lift the veil of darkness off the world.

But the sun doesn't understand either. War keeps going on and on, and people never have the time for aesthetic relaxations. It refuses to shed light on its pitiable humans.

"We should evacuate, Jade. They say a bomb is dropping tomorrow,"

Jade doesn't care and can't care. The most paramount thing is to open his eyes to the beauty of this world. He doesn't want to become one of those barbarous men, tasting dirt and blood on their tongue while they glorify violence and brutalness.

He stays behind while his neighbourhood dies away. You are the only ones yet to leave.

"Please don't leave me, Y/N. You're the only light in my life,"

You can't bear to leave him, and so you stay. The bomb is dropped, and it's too close. Too hot. Too cruel, too inhumane. It ravages everything in its way, burning all the darkened things to the ash and bringing the only beauty left in this world with it.

Jade wails. Broken cries are engulfed by nearby explosions and the cackling of flames. Your soulless body lies amidst the destruction, just another wilted flower in the slit of a rock, deprived of water and sunlight.

He finally understands. Nothing can save the world anymore. It's gone way too far, and it will never recover from malevolence. All he can feel is pity for his world as his heart ache with spite.

Bandages around his hands, he wraps your corpse up completely, preserved underneath the layers. You will be his reminder that there was once a flower in this drought, an anchor keeping him from becoming one of those barbarians.

lifeless silhouette in the dark night

You can never recognize directions. You find yourself stumbling upon a seemingly inhabited mansion in the middle of the woods. Cold and bruised, you knock on its door.

Welcoming you is a tall man with blonde and lilac hair called Vil. His skin is unnaturally white, and his eyes seem to glow like orbs that eat your souls. But you are too tired to make notice of all these details, and he's kind enough to let you stay for the night.

He treats you with ravishing cuisine and a grand bedroom that was as grotesque as the rest of the house. Afterwards, he leaves you to rest, but not before warning you not to get out of the room post midnight.

You oblige- for the first half hour. Then you start to hear wails and footsteps that amplify and disappear. It's impossible to sleep.

The next morning, you confront Vil about it. He refuses to face the questions as he ushers you to get going, and so off you go.

You spend another day lost in the woods, then somehow come face to face with the mansion again. Vil is beyond shocked to see you, but then he breaks into a deep smile.

"It's almost as if you belong here,"

Weirdly enough, you could agree, There seemed to be an invisible force pulling you towards Vil. After dinner, he orders you not to leave the room again before making his leave.

Broken wails. Recurring footsteps. You can't bear it any longer, and you also wonder if Vil is aware of this. He properly is, and thus tells you to stay safe inside the room.

But dumb curiosity gets the best of you, and you open the door and step into the endless corridors.

The wails come from the host's room, where Vil is supposed to be. You're closing in when its door is suddenly flung open, and out runs a panting Vil.

"Vil? What are-"

His eyes are bloodshot and there's red stain in the corner of his mouth. Sweat dots his forehead. He looks disheveled and the complete opposite of how he was during dinner.

"You shouldn't be here. Get back - get back in!"

His voice booms in your skull, and you're running back to your room before you notice.

It's another sleepless night.

To your luck, Vil doesn't wait for you to bring the incident up.

"Don't be creeped ou by it, please."

He seems very uneasy about it, but he's obstinate to give you an explanation.

Turns out that he is a vampire. One that has lived for 500 years and is waiting for his eventual death. He's seen everything in this world and lived through the best and worst of humanity. He understands people's fear about vampires, and so he resides in the remote part of the wood. He only ever drinks the blood of small animals that he hunt, and never has he once killed a man.

He knew nothing about what'd happen to him when he became a vampire. If he'd known about the repercussions, he'd never have become one in exchange of eternal beauty. Now he has to turn someone else into a vampire to end his immortality. It is only a cycle.

Every night the moon rises and spills into his room, and he has to fight his urge to go out and taste the sweet blood of humans.

There are times when he slips and loses control, but he always manages to get back to his senses. But it seems that your presence here in the mansion is awaking his desire to suck you dry.

You're bewildered to say the least, and frankly horrified. But at the same time you feel pity for him, for he is just a man who can't ever do anything as atrocious as hurting people.

And so you offer to end his suffering. Of course Vil disagrees. He just talked about how he never wanted to take a life, and now you're offering yourself to him? He'd never allow it.

But you're even more persistent. You keep staying in his mansion, and his sanity slips a little more every night. And you know that he's contemplating too, for he never tries to kick you out of his mansion.

"You deserve a rest, Vil. For your love and selflessness. For all the unspoken kindness you bestow on others. It is only fair that you get to rest,"

Vil has lived a life. He's but a mere walking corpse now, and a rest -- a sleep -- sounds just like what he needs.

And so he rests. Vil falls into a deep, serene sleep while you endure each and every dark night.

#twst x reader #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #cater diamond #jade leech #vil schoenheit #sie writes #twisted wonderland imagines

166 notes · View notes