#magnificent seven imagines
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Hi, same anon who asked before! Can I please request Goody with a female reader who’s secretly a witch and a member of the seven and he finds out when she uses magic during a fight and takes out like ten guys at once? Thanks so much ❤️❤️
this is incredible. magnificent seven fans we must find each other
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Witches are not real. We love stories, all of us, tall tales and fables and legends too, but they’re not real. No matter how many times your older cousins whisper things to you under the cover of nightfall, terrible, twisted imaginings about elderly crones with raven familiars or eternally youthful enchantresses compelled to grind the bones of wrongdoers, we know they are not real. The glow of the firelight makes you think they could be real, but they are, at the end of the day, just stories. Stories, and nothing more.
Witches are real, because you are. There is no telling how it happened, what combination of full moons and thirteenth Fridays, black cats and broken mirrors, all manifested to make you what you are. We are a product of what we need. Perhaps your family needed the protection that a normal daughter could not bring. Perhaps they just deserved the curse of you. No one can tell for sure.
You grew up in a small town, same as everyone else’s but wonderfully original, too. The lanterns that swayed when a cold wind blew in were a particular shade of muted gold known only to you, the floors creak in a tune that no one else would hear quite like you did. Backcountry village dwellers know the clopping of new hoofs, the signal of a newcomer, and they know how the sun beats down on your back after a long day of work, but they’ll never know your particular shade of it.
It was a quiet upbringing, for the most part. Your mother raised you right, and turned a blind eye when you took to foraging in the woods for plants and stones she did not recognize. She wasn’t too pleased about the whole affair at first, but then one of the younger boys across the street broke her favorite ceramic jug, the one her mother had made. You fixed it with a few muttered words and a twist of your wrist, and after that your specific brand of devilry was allowed in the house so long as no one else saw it.
No child likes to hide away forever, though, not when they feel there’s nothing about them unduly wrong. Perhaps the devil himself had chosen to make you a little more than human, or perhaps the angels lingered too long over your cradle when you were a baby, but regardless of the source, you were still you, still good, and you didn’t see why that warranted the need to forever live in shame and fear of discovery.
You came close one night. You were old enough to outgrow your mother but too young to match her wisdom. In an attempt to help your family, you were almost discovered while trying to turn the smallish squirrel one of your brothers caught into something better, something that could feed all of you. One of the neighbors had decided to do a little poking around at the time you were spellcasting, and that little glimpse could have cost you everything.
They never saw anything outright suspicious, but it was too close, and the prospect of a witch hunt wouldn’t do you any good out here when no one would speak up for you. People don’t like girls with mouths to run. No one would defend such a witch from the flame.
If the town will not protect the girl, then the girl will protect herself. You ran far away, far enough away that no one had heard your name and certainly didn’t care to listen to it. You find work here and there, never quite enough pay to make you settle in one place but enough to keep you alive. You pass from village to village, city to city, and somehow along the way, you find a little place called Rose Creek.
It’s not a marvel by any means. This is a town. You have seen many of its kind before, countless iterations of the same style of brick and mortar and abandoned hopes for better things. The faces are new, the people down on different kinds of luck, but it’s largely the same as always. You were planning on repeating your usual schedule of sticking around for a few months before hitting the road again lest someone discover you, but then you hear about the situation they’ve got going on and you decide otherwise.
A man named Sam Chisholm is putting together a plan to release Rose Creek from some kind of mining tycoon. He’s asking for every able hand to pitch in, something you hear about when you ride in later that night. Over time, you’ve had to learn how to defend yourself from a great many sharp-eyed bullies who’ve found you out, so your marksmanship is as good as any hired gun.
You find Sam’s main group sitting around a table at a nearby saloon and decide to offer up your services. Doing good makes you feel better, eases the heavy burden that always seems to press against your ribs after too many long nights. When you have gifts like yours and you don’t use them to help, it’s as good as aiding the enemy.
The men take your offer about as expected. One of them, a cocky hotshot you later learn is called Faraday, actually starts laughing. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he chokes out between guffaws, “I don’t think you’re made for the front lines. Maybe you can help get the rest of the women and children to safety, though?”
You arch a brow. The rest of the group has the decency to shake their heads and look away, avoiding eye contact. “Alright,” you tell him coolly, “Just to ease my temper, though, would y’want to engage in a bit of a shooting contest? Since we’re so far from the front lines now, I’m sure I’ll survive somehow.”
Faraday grins and agrees to your challenge in a heartbeat, smirking over at his friends like he isn’t stressed about losing in the slightest. One of the men looks like he might have to disagree with Faraday’s bravado, though. He’s a little older than the man rolling his eyes as he heads out to the targets outside the saloon, and looks at you with a smile you’re pretty sure is with you instead of just at your expense.
This second man chuckles a little to himself, takes a swallow of the drink in front of him, and tells you to make Faraday wager on the contest, just so your opponent can embarrass himself a little more. You laugh at that, raising your hand in mock salute before joining Faraday outside the saloon. The rules of the shooting contest are agreed upon; three targets from increasingly far distances, closest to the center wins.
Five rounds later, Faraday’s swears increase in volume as he loses progressively more money, and you’re sitting at Sam Chisholm’s table, discussing the group’s plan to rid Rose Creek of its rather oppressive hosts. You learn the names and attitudes of all those at the table, including the one who’d known you’d win from the start.
Goodnight Robicheaux is not what you’d expected of him. You’ve heard stories of an ex-soldier with a gift for bloodthirst, as the so-called Angel of Death is a tale that’s spread far and wide even without Goodnight’s input, but you hadn’t expected the actual man behind the myth to be quite like him. Goody’s nice, a decent man and a better shot, but you wouldn’t connect the name with the body unless someone told you. Goodnight doesn’t like showing off with a gun.
In fact, he doesn’t like touching a weapon at all. You can tell that it’s starting to rankle Faraday and the rest of the men from Rose Creek who’ve agreed to help out– here you have a legend of the war, and he won’t even look at a gun– but Goodnight steadfastly refuses to give in to their not so silent pressure. He offers advice and has promised to help liberate the town, but he will not become the man of such fear and admiration.
You have to respect it. Although you haven’t asked Goody why he won’t shoot a round with the rest, you can guess as to why. Death doesn’t come easy to everyone. This man is a soldier. Was a soldier. He knows what it is to hate what you are. You can understand that better than anyone.
Maybe that’s why the two of you have gotten along so well. You talk when you want to, swap stories when you wish it, but when the nights get long and neither of you can sleep for memories both of you want to hide, you can find him pacing the streets of the town, and you know that you are not alone. Sometimes you walk for miles in the silence, and you have never felt more secure.
The day of the attack sneaks up on you. Bogue’s men show up on the horizon, too many, too strong, but Rose Creek won’t waver and neither will you. You all have your places to be so this mad plan can be orchestrated, so when the sun starts to flood across the sky, you hurry to your station, ready your gun, and prepare your mind to die.
You swore to yourself that you would not use magic during this fight. You don’t need your spells, not really; you’ve long since learned that it’s safer to use a gun to fight off attackers, so you trust your aim in cases like this. The benefit of magic, though, is its strength. Picking off enemy fighters one by one with a gun is nothing compared to how simple it would be to pull up energy from the ground and condemn a dozen men to their graves in the span of half a second.
You can feel it gnawing at you throughout the fight, the knowledge of how easy it would be to end it all. Is it not a sort of betrayal to your friends, to have the capacity to save them all the faster but refuse to use it? You are helping them with your guns right now, but could it ever be enough?
You will not use your spells. You cannot. You should not. Bogue’s men seem to pour out of every cavity in every wall, a thousand rats in a plague upon your friends. If this is your last stand, so be it. It is a good thing to die for a good cause. Better when you’ve spent your whole life running in the hopes of finding something like it.
There is one thing you cannot accept, however, and that is the death of someone you care about. It is one thing to rationalize your own self-sacrifice, but when you look across the battlefield and realize that the bullets of a Gatling gun are about to speed across town and wreck the very church steeple in which Goodnight and Billy are stationed in, the shock and fear of it cuts you like a blade to the heart.
There is no time, none at all. The trigger has already been pulled. There is nothing any man could do to save them, not up there. You will have the perfect view as they fall from all the way up there. And you look up at him, up on the steeple, and you know that he is not coming down. Not unless you do something. Not unless you do it now.
Nothing no man could do. You are no regular man. It is the easiest thing in the world to think of what you wish. The magic responds instantly, tugging away from your fingers and into the earth. It’s like it’s been waiting this whole time, begging to be used. Clouds of dust rise up from the streets, forming a perfect circle around the church. Then, in a flash, they move out, blocking everything in their path. The bullets ricochet off, finding new targets in the sides of buildings and even enemy soldiers. You count a dozen downed fighters, maybe more than that, all having previously aimed to kill your friends. All dead now.
The Gatling gun goes silent. All is quiet for a moment. You see silhouettes shifting up in the church steeple, and even from this distance, you recognize Goody when he stands and stares at you. Your hands are raised. No one else had been focused on the steeple except for you. There is no proof that you could do something like that, but he does not need proof to explain what he feels, what he knows right now.
We do not ask questions when impossible things happen. Not when they are good. When a bullet that should have struck you right between your eyes somehow curves and misses you mid flight, you praise the Lord instead of asking why. When you swear you caught two fish but there are four flopping there on the bank the next time you blink, you only admire the fine meal you have before you. They could have known you were a witch, all of them. Odds are they did. You don’t ask, though. None of us do.
Goodnight asks. He waits until the battle is over, until it is won, until the only danger comes from him knowing and you not being able to tell how he will react. He times it so you almost think you’ll get away without him putting two and two together, and then he turns to you, muffled by the din of victorious conversation, and asks, “It was you that saved us, wasn’t it?”
You shrug, looking away with a pointed determination. “I’d say that’s a pretty strong compliment. We all helped as much as we could, you know. Saying that I specifically saved you ignores the rest.”
Goody shakes his head. “You know what I’m talking about. Bullets can’t bounce off of thin air. Unless, of course, someone makes them.”
Your fingers are perfectly still on the table in front of you. “I don’t know how that would happen.”
“Neither do I,” Goody says quietly, “And I’ve decided that it’s not important to me that I do know. What’s important to me is that whoever saved us risked their life to do so. Secrets like that can be deadly. If you ever find out who diverted those bullets, I’d like you to thank them for me.”
You risk a glance his way. Goodnight’s looking fondly at his friends gathered on the other side of the table– a round of cards has started up already, even though the only deck they have has been riddled severely by bullet holes– but that smile, that smile is for you. You know it. He does too.
“It might have been me,” you whisper.
He looks over at you at last. “I’m glad it was,” he tells you. “I’m glad it was you.”
magnificent seven tag list: empty for now, feel free to ask to be added!
bonus tag for @starlit-epiphany bc its your man!! and there are other people than us still in this fandom!!
#goodnight robicheaux#goodnight robicheaux imagines#goodnight robicheaux x reader#goodnight robicheaux oneshot#magnificent seven#magnificent seven imagines#magnificent seven x reader#magnificent seven oneshot#magnificent seven goodnight#magnificent seven goodnight imagines#magnificent seven goodnight x reader#magnificent seven goodnight oneshot
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Headcanons: Taking care of each other when you're sick (Goodnight Robicheaux)
Headcanons: Taking care of each other when you're sick (Goodnight Robicheaux)
Pairing: Goodnight Robicheaux x Gn!Reader
Requested By: @starlit-epiphany
A/n: You only requested taking care of Goodnight when he is sick, but I thought I'd add the other way around as well, since it would be way too short otherwise
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Taking Care of Him:
Goodnight likes to relax, but he HATES being sick.
So when he has to stay in bed, he get's restless, especially if he is alone.
Constantly wanting you to stay in the room with him so he can talk to you or play cards.
If he can't talk then you read to him, just to keep his mind busy.
If he is very sick, fever and all, you don't need him to ask you to stay with him.
You will have a cool wet rag that you often wipe his brow with.
You bring him medicine and food.
No matter how bad he feels, it does not stop him from flirting with you, or complimenting and thanking you for taking care of him.
He wakes up to see you leaning over him, dabbing his brow.
"Have I died and gone to heaven?"
"Shut up and eat your soup."
You taking care of him makes him incredibly grateful, and resembles the closest thing to a domestic life he can get. Which he loves the idea of, especially with you.
You bring fresh flowers into the room every few days and he can't help but smile at you, eyes full of love and admiration.
Sometimes, only sometimes, he may act sick for a few days longer just because he loves seeing you care so much for him (and he wants an excuse to stay at home with you)
Taking Care of You:
Goodnight relishes in the idea of you being dependent on him.
Not in a toxic way of course, but in a "I get to tease, and take care of the love of my life" kind of way.
He is very good at cooking food around a campfire in the middle of no where, but a bit clueless in an actual kitchen.
So the soup you get is either tasteless, or way too salty.
But you appreciate the gesture, and eat it all, knowing that it was made with all the love in the world.
Goodnight also lies that he gets to pay you back for the times when you took care of him, either when he was injured or sick.
He will gently wash your head and neck if you are sweating from a fever.
If you have loner hair, he will brush and braid it for you, keeping out of your face.
He will sit by your bedside the whole time, reading to you, talking you stories or singing you songs.
Goodnight will also bring you flowers and pastries from the local shop to cheer you up.
When you get better, he still act's a bit protective, and doesn't let you overdo it, in case you might fall sick again.
xx
Sorry it's so short, but I hope you like it :)
General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry
Mag7 Taglist: @spuffyfan394
#goodnight robicheaux#magnificent seven#mag7#goodnight robicheaux imagine#goodnight robicheaux/reader#goodnight robicheaux x reader#goodnight robicheaux headcanons#magnificent seven x reader#magnificent seven/reader#magnificent seven imagine#mag7 imagine#magnificent seven headcanons#ethan hawke imagine#ethan hawke headcanons#headcanons#whump headcanons
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TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN
-PART EIGHT
Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Genre: Angst (for now)
Warnings: family trauma/lore
Notes: we love a family that bonds.
PART ONE | PART SEVEN | PART NINE | NAVIGATION
Xavier was worried, scared even. He's pacing back and forth in his room. Having second thoughts whether he'll go down to hell and look for his beloved mother or just wait for her here.
What he's afraid of is what'll happen if his mother sees his father. His father already caused so much emotional pain to her. Xavier cannot imagine what kind of heartbreaking pain she'll experience once she sees her husband.
Xavier looks outside his window, rays of setting sunlight peaks through the white curtains, giving his room an orange like glow. He runs his hand through his light blond locks in frustration. He can't wait a second longer to look for her.
Xavier wonders if his parents already met down there, the idea makes his blood boil.
The idea of his father suddenly back to their life makes his skin crawl. Xavier knows how much influence his father had on his mother's heart.
He sighs, a long exhale filled with tension and worry. It's already been a few hours now, what could she be possibly doing down there? He thought to himself.
With a small huff, he fixed his uniform. That's it, I'm going down there. He took a deep breath, snapped his fingers together and opened a portal that leads to hell.
He steps inside the portal, summoning his three pairs of wings so he can fly down. Xavier hopes that his mother is alright.
The portal closed and the angel who once stood inside his large magnificently large white room was no more.
Lucifer returned back to the palace, teleporting back to his bedroom. A sigh of relief escaping his lips as he saw that [Y/n] was still passed out asleep. His eyes softened, sitting at the corner of the bed, in the empty space beside her sleeping form.
He lets out a long exhale, a tired sigh. He gazed down at her sleeping and tired face, his heart ached. Clearly torn between two women. Lilith, his wife of many millennia and [Y/n], his first wife and the angel who stood by his side and supported him despite his neglect.
He regrets it, genuinely. He was young and stupid, he and [Y/n] got married when they were in their 200's. Romance wasn't common back then, nothing to learn from. The only love they were taught was loving heaven and its creator. Romantic love barely existed during those times as every angel was busy with their respective duties.
He loves [Y/n] genuinely and he was wrong for not upholding his vows to her.
He gently swept away some strands of falling hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. A small smile on his face once his eyes landed on his hand, devoid of any rings. He finally let go of his wedding ring, the one he used for Lilith. He didn't wear his wedding ring—the one he used for [Y/n]—as he feels like he doesn't deserve it.
Lucifer remembers that he didn't want to remove his first wedding ring with his first wife but Lilith insisted he should.
Lilith was envious, because after so many years he still wore it and led to some arguments.
He can't just forget about [Y/n], he doesn't have the heart to. Her heartbroken face is forever embedded into his memories, her empty and blank face as she stared at him and Lilith when they were banished.
A look in her face told him that she was tired, tired of waiting for him, tired of his second priority.
He should've been better, he should've treated her better. He should've been her perfect husband just like how she was his perfect wife.
His love for Lilith is slowly disappearing, ever since they've begun arguing. Their beliefs and ideals no longer match with one another.
He accidentally mentioned [Y/n]'s name during their heated arguments, which causes Lilith to be mad at him and eventually left, leaving divorce papers for him to sign on his desk.
He tried so hard to bury his love for [Y/n], he tried so hard to forget her as he knew he wouldn't see her again and most likely didn't want to see him either.
A single tear runs down his rosy red cheek, breath hitching. Emotions are finally spilling forth, his love and heart ache that he bottled up for so many eons finally erupting.
“So this is how it feels,” he sang softly, careful not to wake her up. His voice broke as he sang ever so softly, “To fall in love with you, to always think of you, to always dream of you,”
He made a mistake in his decisions, he admits that. He should've done things better. Choosing Lilith over her was a mistake, “Yes, it hurts so much to fall in love with.”
He sighs softly, choking on his words as he sings his unspoken feelings. His hand trembled with emotions, “Sorry for leaving like that, you don't deserve to get caught in my mess.”
He was a troublemaker, he didn't want her to get caught in his mess but whatever silly idea he had, she was always ready to listen and comfort him when the elders rejected it. He gently held her hand, feeling how cold her skin was, he cups it with his hand and blew some warm air to it to warm her hand. He used to do this when they were back in heaven.
He gently laid down her hand back to the bed and back to her side, a small smile on his face before he let out a sad sigh, “Loving me is just so difficult, I don't know how I should tell you that.” he admits softly, he knows how tiring he can be, he knows... He had to deal with himself after all. He sighs, he's been doing so much of it lately.
“I've fallen for somebody else, happened so quickly, I lost myself.” he admitted, he realized years ago that he was only infatuated with Lilith, when the honeymoon phase was over, arguments started.
“A shadow of you drifts along by my window or did I imagine that?” he could remember when he would spend all by himself at the kitchen, drinking after a fight with Lilith and during his drunken delusion, he would often see figures of [Y/n] comforting him.
A shaky breath leaves past his lips, eyes tired and dull. He looks at the sleeping once more, she looked so peaceful.
He wonders if he should transfer her to the hotel, he needs to check up on Charlie and the others too. With a heavy sigh, he gently lifted her up into his arms once more—effortlessly carrying her. A sense of deja vu hits him, a memory of the time he carried her like this after they got married, [Y/n] happily laughing in his arms while he grins at her as he held her. Times were simple back then.
A single tear drop, running down his blemish free pale skin, the droplet running past his rosy red spots of his cheeks.
He took a deep breath, summoning a portal that leads to an empty vacant room of the hotel, he steps in with her still asleep on his arms. The portal closes behind them as the room shifts into one Hazbin Hotel's newest guest rooms.
He gently walked towards the bed, gently laying her down comfortably, making sure to tuck her in.
Finally, he slowly gave distance between them. Standing just a few feet away from the bed, a sad look on his face, “This is how it feels, to fall in love with you, to always think of you, to always dream of you,”
Seeing her after all these years, ignited the fading flame of his love for her. Adding gasoline to a flame.
“Yes, it hurts so much to fall in love with you.” he silently admitted, she doesn't hurt him, he knows it was his fault. He made everything complicated, his decision caused harm to her and their son, to these sinners. He made a reckless decision of abandoning her, giving both of them pain in the process.
He doesn't deserve her. Not after the things he's put her through.
He thought sadly, before turning his back away from her, walking out of the room. He took one last look at her sleeping form before eventually closing the door as he left the room.
The heels of his boots tapped against the dark red tiles of the hallway of the hotel as he walked towards his own room. He needs some time to process everything.
Charlie wasn't expecting a visitor this soon after the extermination, she certainly didn't expect her visitor to be her half half brother, a frown on his face and a glare on his eyes. She would've mistaken him for her father if he didn't have [e/c] eyes and also if the boy wasn't ridiculously so tall.
Charlie smiled nervously, how could she not? Xavier was looking down on her literally with the same coldness in his eyes.
“Xavier... Hi! I didn't expect you to be here...” Charlie says nervously, waving at him.
Xavier just raised an eyebrow, clearly not interested in small talk, “Where is she?” he asked, voice cold and means business.
Charlie tilted her head, “Who...?” she asked, wondering who the older boy was referring to.
Xavier scoffed, [e/c] eyes narrowing down on the blonde girl as he crosses his arms together on his chest, “My mother,” he answered, a deadpan look on his face, “—She came down here a few hours ago, she should've been back by now.” he added, a worried tone on his voice. Xavier was beyond worried, his poor mother alone in this disgusting place—the realm his blood father ruled. He can't imagine the possibilities that could happen to her.
Charlie's eyes widened in realization, oh, the angel. Why didn't she realize it sooner? Of course he's referring to the passed out angelic woman. Charlie is slightly nervous about telling the older boy, but she has to, “She's resting, she suddenly passed out awhile ago....?” She says, nervously, avoiding Xavier's eyes.
Xavier's eyes widened, ears ringing as everything suddenly went numb. For a brief moment, it felt like he was alone once more, the scared little boy who begged for his mother's attention.
He could remember how close she was to him but for some reason, he couldn't reach her. His mother can barely look at him in the eyes without crying. He felt useless, pathetic for being born this way and caused his beloved mother so much pain. He failed, he failed, he failed, he failed, HE FAILED HER. He couldn't save her again.
Mom...? Where are you? Please... Don't leave me again...
Charlie's eyes widened when she sees a single tear slid down Xavier's cheek despite the boy's unchanging glare, Charlie though could notice how sad his eyes were.
“Xavier...?” She calls out to him, no response.
“Azrael... He looks so much like him... I... I can't... It hurts to look at him.” his mother sobbed on the unknown taller and black haired man's shoulders. Xavier grips his duck plushie, he was somehow fond of the animal. The little boy peaked through the small gap of the door to his mother's room, hoping for some comfort after a nightmare—he didn't expect to see his beloved mom crying about him and that made him freeze on the spot. He was a smart child after all, just like his father.
“[Y/n]... He's just a kid... He needs you...” Xavier heard the man say, he still has trouble saying his name. Was it Azwawel? Or Azrawel? He forgot. Xavier, despite being so young, barely six years old—suddenly felt so numb. He slowly walked away from his mother's room, dragging the duck plushie. It felt heavier than usual, his little arms too weak to hold it.
He felt his chest tighten, he couldn't breathe. Chest heaving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.
Charlie got even more worried as she saw him begin to hyperventilate, “Xavier! Hey, hey... Look at me.” She says softly, holding on to the arms of the shaking boy, the physical contact snapping him out of his trance as he quickly pulled his arms away from the girl.
“Do not touch me.” he hissed, glaring at Charlie, “Tell me where my mother is or I'll destroy this hotel just to find her.” he threatened, making Charlie's eyes widen in fear. She knows she can't fight him, let alone her friends aren't as powerful to fight an angelic being—a Seraphim.
“She's upstairs, resting... Just don't hurt anyone.” She stammers, giving way for the older boy to come inside the hotel. She knew as her father texted her about it.
Vaggie's eyes widened when she saw the angel walks in, she could feel the man's power as he entered the room. Suddenly, the room got colder. Vaggie summoned her spear but she saw Charlie crossing her arms into an 'X' while shaking her head. Vaggie hesitantly lowered her weapon as they all looked at each other, she had to grip Angel Dust's arm to stop the arachnid from doing stupid—thankfully, Angel Dust seemed to get the memo and closed his mouth. Husk had to hold Niffty to stop her from causing chaos again.
Charlie led him up the stairs to the second floor, the others watching as they disappeared from sight.
Xavier's eyes widened as the door to where his mother was resting was opened, the first thing he saw was his mother's passed out form, lying down on the bed.
Xavier immediately kneeled down to his mother's side, holding her hand affectionately. What happened to her?
He looked angrily at Charlie, dull [e/c] eyes staring at bright red ones, “What did you do to her?” he asked, voice lowering and clearly pissed off. Charlie shakes her head, clearly afraid of him, “We didn't do anything! She suddenly just passed out on her own.” she explained and he just sighs, shaking away his thoughts.
‘They wouldn't just recklessly harm an angel, they couldn't land a hit on her if they tried. She must've overworked again.’ he thought to himself, sighing.
“Just leave us alone please? Now.” he ordered, Charlie flinched in fear but nodded and quickly left the room, making sure to close the door on her way out.
Xavier sighs, his shoulders dropping. It suddenly felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His mother is his world, after all.
“It's going to be okay, mother. I am here for you, always.” he spoke softly, kissing his mother's hand before lowering it back down to the bed, hovering his hand over her sleeping form and began to heal her.
Lucifer stood outside the door to where [Y/n] was resting, his hand hovering above the doorknob—shaking. Charlie just told him about the situation. His son is here, the son he didn't know who existed was here.
He took a deep breath, ‘You can do this, Lucifer... This is your chance to ask for forgiveness.’ he thought to himself before knocking first and then slowly twisted the doorknob, pushing it open.
It felt like he was looking at the mirror, it felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself—the reflection glaring at him, sharp [e/c] eyes glaring at him with so much hatred.
“You!” the boy growled, standing up from where he was kneeling.
Lucifer was taken aback from the boy's anger. It felt like he was looking at a past version of him, the past him who despised heaven who treated him so wrongfully.
“What are you doing here? Why do you have so much audacity to come here like you didn't do anything wrong?” the boy asked, his voice filled with so much distaste for his father.
Lucifer's eyes widened, words stuck in his throat. Say something!
With a heavy inhale and exhale, Lucifer looked at the glaring boy, trying to calm him down, “I know what I did and I... Want to apologize... For all the things I've done.” he said softly, stammering slightly. He's trying so hard not to show that he's beyond nervous.
Xavier's glare sharpened, who does this man think he is?! Did he think a mere apology can undo all the damage he has done to him and his mother.
“Who do you think you are?” he asked Lucifer mockingly, a cold look on his face. Lucifer just stood frozen on the spot.
“Just because you're the most beautiful being of all of creation doesn't mean you can have anything you want,” Xavier sneered, a mocking smile on his face, “Your title and power doesn't mean anything to me, how does it feel to be the most beautiful being in all of creation yet you are thoroughly despised by your own flesh and blood?” Xavier asked and suddenly Lucifer couldn't speak, his chest tightening at the harsh words his supposed son had said to him. His breath caught up on his throat.
“This face...?” Xavier says, his hand moving towards his own face, he glared at his birth father, “I despised it so much, it's horrendous.” he says flatly.
“I do not know what my mother sees in you,” he says, looking up and down on his father's frozen form—not moving a muscle, “All I see is an angel who failed to become what he needed to become. A failure, nothing more and nothing less.” he says sharply, [e/c] eyes dull and hollow as he gazes at dull red ones.
Lucifer felt the familiar sting in his eyes, he desperately willed himself not to cry. What a failure of a father he is. First Charlie, now it's.... He doesn't even know the boy's name, he remembered Charlie telling him, but he somehow forgot. Pathetic.
Xavier's lips were formed in a thin line, turning his back away from his supposed blood father. He still doesn't understand why his beloved mother loves his father so much. He's too afraid to ask. Too afraid of making her remember such painful memories. He'll wait for her to open up. They have so much time to heal, he'll wait. He could remember young him who wanted to meet his father so much, the young naive Xavier who admired his father—the father who created the very species he loved so much, ducks. Poor naive Xavier who finally learned the pain his father gave to his mother to point his mother can't look at him, her beloved son in the eyes.
With a shaky breath, finally letting go of the breath he took in. Xavier sighs, “I will be taking my mother back home, thank you for your hospitality.” Xavier murmured, gently lifting his mother into his arms with no effort.
Lucifer's eyes widened from what the boy has said, they're going to leave. He needs to do something, anything to earn their forgiveness.
“Wait..! Please let her recover mor—”
“Haven't you done enough damage already?” Xavier asked, his voice devoid of any emotions as he tilted his head slightly to look at his father, a single stray tear running down his pale cheeks, the single droplet running past the rosy red spot on his cheek.
Lucifer was taken aback once more, the King of Hell can see so much sadness, anger, and longing on the boy's eyes. Lucifer wanted to reach out to the boy, his fatherly instincts kicking in. His hand extending where the boy stood, pausing as he hesitated.
Even after all these years, sweet little Xavier is still somewhere inside him. The sweet naive Xavier who wanted a complete family, who wanted a father.
“I said what I said, she'll be going home and get proper treatment. I doubt hell is a appropriate place to treat an angel like her.” Xavier says flatly, clearly not open for any discussion left. His decision is final. Lucifer can only respect that, he owes it to them. Lucifer finally lowers his hand, regrettably so.
Xavier turned away from Lucifer once more, summoning a portal back to their home in heaven.
A bright golden light formed in thin air as a portal opened, Xavier stepped in with his mother in his arms. He dared not look back. He doesn't have any reason to.
The portal closes in. Lucifer was left alone standing in the guestroom, his first family gone in a blink of an eye.
He cried in anguish inside that room.
He can hear his bones rattle against his skin as he dragged his body to his mother's bedroom, Xavier is incredibly exhausted. Physically, no. Emotionally and mentally? Yes, absolutely.
He is still carrying his mother in his arms, prioritizing her comfort over his.
Kicking the door open, he walked at the center of the room where his mother's bed was, gently laying her down. Making sure to tuck her in.
[Y/n] snuggled, against her blanket. Xavier smiled, a gentle yet strained smile on his face.
“I'll protect you mom, sleep well and dream well.” he says softly, planting a small kiss on his mother's forehead before eventually leaving the room.
TAGLIST I:
@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @zc000ter @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyreality @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby
#lxkeee updates#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer#lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist#hazbin hotel x reader#lucifer magne#“TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN”#lucifer x reader angst#lucifer x y/n#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you#Lucifer morningstar x reader angst#lucifer morningstar x female reader
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Clandestine
BLACKPINK Lisa
Words: 2,200
Tags: 🍑
A/N: Late quickie.
It could only be described as paradise. The gentle rays beaming down, crystal clear blue water surrounding all around. A vast system of valleys and caves with not another person in sight. Yet the only thing your mind could process is the barely covered Thai idol–her skin glistening with beads of ocean droplets lighting up her already pale skin.
"Are you sure about this Lisa?"
"Just shut up and take the picture. I've been living under a microscope for the past 7 years."
She raises her arms above her head and poses for the perfect Instagram shot–the teeny bikini barely covering up her tight little ass.
"Let me see. Let me see." Lisa excitedly scurries over after hearing the shutter of the camera click. While she giggles and taps her fingers against her phone, you're left gawking at her ocean soaked body. Even with paradise all around, there's only one thing on your mind. Everything about Lisa was long and slender, every inch of her body from her fingers all the way down to her toes. Two tiny pieces of neon green fabric left almost nothing to the imagination; a thinly veiled excuse of a bikini. It's truly a magnificent sight, how could anyone be so toned yet soft and smooth.
"... And it's posted!" Lisa screams out energetically. Seven years of living under constant scrutiny, her contract is at an impasse while both sides remain under negotiations. Lisa was always a wild child, but now she feels the extra freedom with the weight of the company off her shoulders.
Lisa smirks, catching you staring like a deer caught in headlights. No point in denying it now, your slack jawed expression says it all.
"I'd tell you to take a picture, but you already did." Lisa teases as she catches you in the act. She walked towards you, a mischievous smile on her face, taking slow methodical strides with her long legs until she's nearly pressed against you. "Do you like what you see?" she whispers into your ears. Clearly a rhetorical question, one that she gives you no time to respond to. Hands and lips are all over you, lips nibbling at your collarbone while hands frisk at your chest. Lower and lower she goes, leaving a trail of kisses and light bites as she takes place on her knees.
She's in prime position, but she's one to play naughty little games. Over the protection of your shorts, Lisa gently grazes your shaft with delicate light touches. But that's not all, her full lips kiss the tip of your clothed cock–your desperation for her touch grows with each passing moment. Her cute face didn't match her lecherous actions, but this is only the beginning of what's to come. Her hands travel up to your waistband, her fingers sliding under the elastic. Painstakingly lowering your shorts until your friend springs into position.
"There's my favorite little toy." Lisa sing talks as she takes a hold of your cock.
"Excuse me? Little?"
"There's my favorite big toy," Lisa giggles at your bruised ego. "Now lay back and let me have some fun."
You do as instructed, laying flat on your back. Lisa straddles your right leg, leaning in to give your cock gentle kisses and licks, her soft tongue playing with your precum. She looks at you with her big gorgeous eyes, "Are you ready for some real fun Oppa?"
Her lips part and she sucks hard on your head. You moan out loud, your hips bucking upwards to meet her oral assault. Her mouth is warm and wet, it feels as though she's bathing your member in a pool of her own saliva.
"Mmmmm, I can feel you getting bigger and harder." She moves lower now, using her gentle fingertips to caress your balls. "I don't know if I'll be able to fit you in my mouth, but I'm going to try."
Her hair is getting in her face, so you hold it back. Your cock hits her throat, but she gets lower and lower each time. She gags a bit, but still manages to keep sucking away. Soon enough she's deepthroating you, her pink tongue swirling around your head as she looks up at you with a grin.
"You taste good."
Up and down she goes, taking the full length of your cock into her throat every time. The elicit noises of her gagging are the most erotic sound in the world. Lisa's stroking your thighs as she bobs her head, keeping constant eye contact. She pulls away and takes a deep breath before diving back in–holding herself down, her nose pressed against your pelvis until she turns red, tears running down her round cheeks.
She pulls herself off, coughing and gasping for air–a long trail of saliva still connected from your cock to her chin.
"I thought you said it was little." You tease as she struggles to catch her breath.
"Nope, it's big" She pouts. "But you're such a dirty boy, making me gag like that."
"I didn't make you do anything. You gagged yourself, you filthy little whore."
"Excuse me, I'm your filthy little whore." She giggles. "And I want more. Are you ready to stick that big cock into something tighter than my mouth?"
She bends over on her hands and knees, shaking her delectable cute ass in your face. As much as you love to slowly peel off her bottoms, there's no time to waste, pulling the knots on one side of her bikini and throwing the flimsy cloth into the sand.
You stick two fingers into her mouth, she sucks and licks, coating them with her saliva. Using your well lubricated digits, your tease around the ring of her ass. With great care you work your fingers inside, watching in awe as your fingers disappear into her tight hole. You continue on, twisting and twirling, spreading her out for what's to come.
"Just fuck me already" Lisa begs, always the impatient one when it comes to her ass.
"Your wish is my command, my Thai princess."
You grab ahold of her hips, moving her forward and then pushing her back. Your cock still slick with saliva, pressing your tip against her tight hole. Just your head penetrates when she lets out a scream of pain and pleasure.
"Keep going," she whimpers, her body relaxing to take more of you in.
You go slow, inch by inch, watching her as she squirms, trying not to move too fast. Her body relaxes with each pass, feeling her opening spread wider. Soon enough you're fully inside, your cock buried within her. Every inch of her is squeezing you tight. You've fucked her ass dozens of times by now, but each time gets better and better.
Your hips start moving, Lisa's moans blend perfectly with the sounds of the ocean.
"Harder, faster!" She begs.
You oblige, holding on to her hips as each slam of your hips gets faster. Every one sends shivers through her body, forcing a stuttering gasp to escape her lips. With a tug of the string to her top, it floats down into the sand–moving your hand upwards to grope her tiny tits, pinching her sensitive nipples in your hand as you pound away at her ass.
"Ohhh~" Lisa squeals, desperately trying to grasp at the sand.
"Is this what you wanted?"
"Yes, yes!" She cries out. "More!"
With that you pick up speed, thrusting with everything you have. Your stamina has grown immensely since you started fucking each member of BLACKPINK. Her body tenses up, her ass clenching even harder against your shaft.
"Just like that. Just like that." Lisa pleads. "Give it to me. Fuck me Oppa!"
"As you please"
Your pace continues, slamming into her tight little ass. Her body writhes under you, her moans turn into shrieks threatening your ear drums even in the open air. Her tenseness immediately loosens up as she screams out, her orgasm ripping through her body.
"AHHH~"
Her back arches, her ass spasms around your cock. Her beautiful face is locked in a grimace of pure ecstasy. Lisa shakes uncontrollably, her mouth wide open and her eyes squeezed shut as she convulses. You keep pounding away inside, holding onto her hips tightly, your thrusts slowing down to prolong her bliss.
"I... I..." Lisa pants, "...I haven't came that hard since that last time you fucked me."
You chuckle, kissing her on the cheek.
"I'm glad I could help, you were amazing."
"I forgot how good you feel..." Lisa leans back into your embrace. "...But what about you, Oppa? You still haven't cum." She feels your rock hard cock still pressed against her cute little ass.
She pushes you on your back, her long body looking intimidating from below as she towers over you.
"You know it felt amazing when Chaeyoung gifted you my pussy for your birthday..." She giggles.
It was hard to believe, Lisa allowing you fuck anything but her ass on her own volition, but there was no time to harp about it. She straddles your waist, reaching down to grab a hold of your cock, lining up your tip to her wet, post orgasmic folds.
You grip her hips, guiding her in. Her tight little snatch opens up for you, allowing you to easily slide inside. Lisa squeezes her pussy around the base of your cock, massaging it with her insides. She's earned the title of main dancer, doing body rolls with you buried deep inside her.
"How's it feel to have my pussy wrapped around your cock again Oppa?"
"Amazing."
"Well get ready for a ride." Her hands plant on your chest, bracing herself upright. Her feet steady themselves in the sand, then she's off to the races, bouncing herself up and down, your entire length gliding against her silky walls.
"Mmm...so fucking full..."she whispers to herself, snapping her head back. Your hands sneak up when she closes her eyes, your thumbs circling her sensitive nipples. The sudden jolt of excitement only redoubles her efforts, the sound of clapping flesh carries in the wind. A subdued moan escapes her lips and her movements become erratic. Her fingers interlock with yours, her eyes fluttering and her leg start to quiver. With a renewed, intensity, your upwards thrusts match with her downward slams and she screams out in ecstasy once again.
"Such a greedy little one, cumming again when you were supposed to be helping me."
Rather than answer your playful little tease, she leans in and shoves her tongue in your mouth, moaning into it while she rides out her orgasm. Her lips pull away and she lets out a sly smile, still leant over, her small little breasts just inches from your face. Once again, she shows off her renown dancing skills, twerking just her hips up and down. Showing off her multiple talents, her hips never stop moving even while she reaches behind and tickles your balls.
Followed up are little whispers into your ear; "They feel so full Oppa. I want you to cum for me. Cum anywhere you want. On my tiny little tits or my toned abs. Maybe on my face, hell you can even cum inside of me if you want..."
Her words are just the motivation you need.
"You're gonna make me - " You cry out, trying to hold back.
Instead of slowing down, she speeds up her twerking. Her chest rubbing against yours as she leans in and nibbles on your ears. "Just let go. Cum inside me Oppa."
Her erotic words hypnotize you into submission. You thrust upwards into her, driving yourself deeper with each forceful stroke. Her velvety walls squeezing you hard, and you finally release inside of her with a hefty groan. She keeps twerking her hips, trying to milk you for all your worth.
"That's it" She coos. "You're a dirty boy, filling me up with your cum."
She leans back and smiles, spreading her legs apart, making a display of the spunk oozing out of her and onto the sand.
"I'm a mess Oppa, but I like it." Lisa giggles.
You sit up, taking her dainty hand into yours and helping her up to her feet. She goes ahead of you, leaving her bikini behind and proudly makes her way back naked to the beach house.
She turns around and screams back at you, "GET READY FOR ROUND TWO OPPA!"
You let out a sigh, laughing to yourself, watching Lisa skip away without a care in the world. You lay back in the sand before following her back, taking the stairs up to the second floor. As soon as you enter the door, you see the four girls sitting on the couch.
"Hi!" They cheerfully greet you...
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Chrysler Building: A Shimmering Icon of Art Deco Elegance
In the heart of Manhattan's bustling skyline, one architectural masterpiece stands tall, capturing the imagination of all who gaze upon it. The Chrysler Building, a shimmering beacon of Art Deco elegance, is not just a skyscraper but a symbol of New York City's enduring spirit and architectural innovation. With its captivating history, exquisite design, and a touch of old-world glamour, the Chrysler Building continues to enchant and captivate, leaving an indelible mark on the Big Apple's iconic skyline.
The Chrysler Building, completed in 1930, was the brainchild of architect William Van Alen. Its distinctive design is a symphony of style, blending Art Deco with influences from the Machine Age. The tower rises to a staggering 1,046 feet, making it one of the tallest buildings in the world at the time of its completion. Its crowning glory, the iconic stainless steel spire, reaches even higher, ultimately soaring to 1,476 feet. This bold architectural choice, combined with the building's tiered setbacks and intricate ornamentation, immediately sets it apart from its contemporaries.
The Chrysler Building's spire is nothing short of a masterpiece. Composed of seven concentric stainless steel arches, it seems to ascend endlessly into the sky, a testament to human ambition and ingenuity. The polished metal glimmers and reflects the ever-changing hues of the New York City skyline, giving the building a dynamic and ethereal quality. The spire's tip is adorned with a spectacular sunburst design, a symbol of hope and optimism that encapsulated the spirit of the Roaring Twenties.
Beneath the shimmering façade, the Chrysler Building holds a treasure trove of architectural marvels. The lobby, in particular, is a breathtaking work of art. A soaring, marble-clad space is adorned with ornate, artful details, including intricate friezes, Egyptian-inspired motifs, and a magnificent ceiling mural by artist Edward Trumbull. The lobby's elegance and opulence transport visitors to a bygone era of sophistication and glamour.
The Chrysler Building's enduring legacy goes beyond its architectural significance. It has played a prominent role in popular culture, making appearances in numerous films, television shows, and works of literature. Its silhouette, unmistakable and timeless, is a symbol of New York City itself, representing both the city's storied past and its ever-evolving future.
Yet, beneath its polished surface and captivating design, the Chrysler Building harbors an air of myth and mystery that adds to its allure. One enduring legend is the tale of a secret spire race between the Chrysler Building and the Bank of Manhattan Trust Building (now known as 40 Wall Street), a nearby skyscraper under construction at the same time. This tale, though perhaps more myth than fact, only deepens the intrigue surrounding this architectural wonder.
The construction of the Chrysler Building was not without its challenges. The architects and builders had to contend with the limitations of 1920s technology, including the absence of modern safety measures and equipment. Nevertheless, the determination and expertise of the builders triumphed over adversity, resulting in an enduring symbol of human achievement.
As we look ahead to the future, the Chrysler Building continues to stand as a symbol of resilience and creativity. While no longer the tallest building in New York City, its timeless elegance and iconic spire remain a source of inspiration for architects, artists, and dreamers alike. Recent renovations and preservation efforts ensure that this shimmering gem will continue to grace the Manhattan skyline for generations to come.
For those who wish to experience the magic of the Chrysler Building firsthand, tours are available to explore its exquisite lobby and learn more about its history and architectural significance. Standing in the shadow of its gleaming spire, visitors can connect with the past, marvel at its beauty, and imagine the countless stories that have unfolded within its walls.
In a city that is constantly changing and reinventing itself, the Chrysler Building remains a steadfast symbol of New York City's enduring spirit, artistic excellence, and architectural innovation. Its shimmering spire reaches for the heavens, while its hidden treasures and legendary history capture the hearts and minds of all who encounter it. As an icon of Art Deco elegance, the Chrysler Building is not just a skyscraper; it's a living testament to the dreams and aspirations of a city that continues to inspire the world. It's a reminder that in the ever-evolving urban jungle of Manhattan, the Chrysler Building's brilliance still shines as brightly as ever, inviting all to partake in its timeless allure.
Chrysler Building - Next page>
#Chrysler Building#new york city#new york#new-york#newyork#urban#nyc#ny#manhattan#city#usa#United States#buildings#travel#journey#outdoors#street#architecture#visit-new-york.tumblr.com
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tw - overblot!malleus, obsessive behavior, delusional thoughts, i do not know what's going on in chapter seven but the dragon is hot so this is based mostly if not completely on vibes and lust.
This might have been the most lovely Malleus had ever seen you.
Not that you ever weren't lovely. He had thought, from the very moment that your paths collided, that you were one of the most exquisite human specimens he'd ever encountered, charming in your naivety, precious in your unwitting brazenness. Your encounters were few and far between, but he treasured each minute he spent in your company, held those moments aloft in his memory in way beings with lifespans like his own could rarely afford to. You were always lovely. He would loathe himself for implying that you weren't.
But, like this, you were magnificent. Posed on his throne, bedecked in patterned lace and lengths of silk, a silver tiara resting on your head - the only proper ornament for the companion of a King. Your eyes are closed, your sleep as deep and as still as that of those already in the loving embrace of Death, but he can imagine how beautifully they'd sparkle if you were awake, how happy you'd be that you've been chosen to stay closest to his side in this utopia of his creation. You would never abandon him, as Lilia proved to be so willing to. You would never betray him, never turn your back to him, never leave him cold and bleeding and so, so agonizingly alone.
He's made sure that you won't have to suffer for his company, either. He'll spend as much time as he can with you, sure, holding you in his lap and dragging his talons over your parted lips, but when he is forced to leave your side, he knows the testaments to his affection will stay with you, that the thorns winding up your arms and legs will keep you safe even when he cannot. He knows that, if you'd had time to make such a choice, you would not have shied away from his new form the way the others had, would have listened to him as he explained how he planned to correct the world that had done nothing but fallen out from beneath his feet with this newfound strength. He knows you would've continued to love him, awake or asleep, just as he continues to love you.
This is, truly, the most lovely you've ever been.
And because of Malleus, you will never have to be anything else ever again.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere drabbles#yandere twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#twisted woderland#twisted wonderland imagines#twst imagines#yandere twst#twst x reader#twst#yandere malleus#yandere malleus draconia#yandere malleus x reader#malleus x reader#malleus draconia x reader#yanderecore#yancore
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As I Am Yours. (a.t)
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Fem!Reader (minor oc descriptions)
Summary: part two to bound! there would never be a moment where aemond wasn't found by your side in support.
Warnings: 18+ CONTENT (fingering, oral m! receiving, sex), minor mention of death, murder, angst, fluff between aemond and reader, banishment, incestual relationship uncle/niece, little family drama (UNEDITED)
a/n: i love you guys too much to not give you a part two, but i am sorry it took so long! there was just so much i wanted to add for this:)
word count: 6.1k
all translations of high valyrian come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!
masterlist - bound. (part one)
“Let it be known that Heirs Prince Aemond and Princess Y/N of House of Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” the High Septon announced to the crowd as by Alicent’s request married you two under the Seven. “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”
“I am hers,” Aemond said as he kept his focus on you. Though it was not very hard for him, considering you were the only thing on his mind.
Never imagining the day would come that you would be able to marry your beloved so soon, and even with the obvious split between your families, they were able to join for the day in spite of their differences. Rhaenys, Helaena, and Alicent had helped you prepare for the day and warmed your heart for your favorite loved ones to help you on quite the occasion.
You wore a light gold lace dress with a long, caped train with small emeralds adorned all around the dress. You wore your hair down with curls with two crowning braids to flow to your back with an emerald tiara sitting on the top of your head. You were a magnificent sight to see with true beauty glowing from within you.
“I am his,” you said as you looked down at your conjoined hands.
“And she is mine,” Aemond said bringing your attention back to him.
“And he is mine.”
“From this day, until the end of my days.”
“With this kiss, I pledge our love,” Aemond finished as he pulled you in a long-awaited kiss. You smiled into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your hips. You moved forward slightly to lean more into him and he let out a groan against your mouth. He stilled in the kiss, keeping your hips in place from moving further.
You hear cheers and whistles throughout the crowd as you continued to kiss Aemond. As you two separated from the kiss you saw to your right your family with a frown on their face at the witness of the union between Aemond and you. Though as you looked to your left seeing Aegon whistle howls as Helanea cheers for you. Alicent had silent tears running down her face as she was so proud of the people you and Aemond have grown into in the past year. Even Viserys watched from his chair with a smile on his face seeing his granddaughter and son marry one another.
She would never forget the day you stuck by his side in that hall against your entire family. She was so glad that Aemond found someone who would stick by his side no matter the cost. Aemond deserved that and so much more in your mind. You give your night stars to see them shine upon Aemond. As he would give his sun, just to make sure it would brighten your path. It was obvious to everyone that you two truly loved each other.
The only person that would make your special day even better would be your father, Laenor. Even after all these years, you would never forgive your mother for the hand she played in his death, making sure she knew your growing resentment towards her. It had gotten to the point where you thought not to have them at the ceremony, but against your better judgment, you allowed it for your siblings.
Everyone seemed to be having a good time at dinner as laughter filled the room. You and Aemond sat at the center of the table with your grandfather, Viserys, and Alicent sitting beside you to your left. Helena was seated next to Aemond, Aegon sitting beside her, and to the King’s left sat Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corly who sat at the head of the table with no one sitting from across him. Chatter was filled around the table with constant laughs of jokes.
“I would like to make a toast to my wonderful, darling granddaughter Y/N and my son Aemond,” Viserys started as he took a stand from the table leaning onto his cane for support. “I am immensely proud of the people you have grown into today. I have no doubt that when my time is to pass you both will make great rulers of the realm. You have my complete faith and luck for this union between the both of you. I, as both your grandsire and father, love you both.”
It pained your heart to see your grandfather in the significant pain he was in, but still pushed himself to tribute to you and Aemond made you feel so grateful for him.
“Thank you, Grandfather. I will make you proud” you said as you stood to give him a hug as he sunk back down into his seat.
“I know you will,” he whispered to you quietly. “You will become our savior, Y/N. You are who is promised. Do not forget that.”
“Thank you, Father,” Aemond snapped you out of the deep thought your grandfather’s words put you in.
“I would like to thank everyone for attending here today,” you stood from your seat and announced to the room. “Both my husband, Aemond and I truly appreciate all of you being here. The seven realms included all of us together, and it is my goal we are to better our upcoming future. Here is to peace and unity!”
“HEAR HEAR!”
“ALL HAIL TO THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS!” Aegon yelled from his seat with the people repeating his words. You laughed at his actions knowing it was more from the relief off his shoulders than congratulating you and your husband. You looked to Aegon and gave him a slight nod in appreciation.
“May I have this dance, My love?” Aemond asked from beside you offering his hand as he stood.
“Well, of course,” you answered with a wide smile on your face, placing your hand in his and allowing him to lead you to the center of the room.
Once you got to the center, the music started to change as they got ready to play the song of the first dance. Your hands split as the both of you bowed down to each other. People seeing you and Aemond dance to the song was quite shocking to most as they would have never expected their prince to do so. Though neither of you paid mind to be the center of attention in the room, it was your day no one could ruin that for you.
“Avy jorrāelan,” Aemond whispered to you as he leaned his forehead against yours. (I love you.)
“Se, avy jorrāelan,” you replied. (And, I love you.)
Aemond refused to have a bedding ceremony and you wholeheartedly agreed feeling there was no reason to have the men of the council watch. The King and Queen respected your wishes and came to the agreement that in the morning your handmaiden, Rena would check the sheets.
Believe it or not, you and Aemond have never gone further than getting off from the other’s mouth or hands. This would your first and his. You were senselessly nervous, but not a bit of you was scared. You trusted Aemond. Nothing would change that.
“We have waited too long for this night,” you heard Aemond say as you took off your jewelry and pins from your hair.
“You are just too eager,” you giggled while he came up behind you removing your hands from your hair.
He removed the pins from the tiara and unraveled your braids letting your hair fall relieving your scalp. His hands continued to massage your scalp making you let out spews of small moans. Then you felt warm kisses alongside your jaw moving down to your neck. You tilted your head to the side giving him better access as he left small bruises along your neck gently lapping them with his tongue after he created one.
He broke away from your neck letting you turn to face him. His lips pressed against yours and his hands moved to slip you out of your night dress which pooled around your ankles. You pulled away from the kiss to step over the dress and moved on to removing Aemond’s tunic. Your hands slipped under it allowing you to feel his toned torso. Once you removed the tunic, he pulled you back into a searing kiss. Grabbing your bear hips pulling you onto him. You felt the bludge from his pants and sneaked your hand to palm over it.
He moaned at your touch, tightening his grip on your hips. As you stood bare in front of him, he took off his pants allowing his hard length to spring up against his stomach. Of course, you have seen it before but never stopped you from worrying about how it would fit inside you.
“Wait,” you muttered as he approach closer.
“Is something wrong?” Aemond asked worriedly looking into your eyes in search of any regret or hesitation.
“I would like it if you were to take it off,” you told him referencing to his eye patch.
“Take what off?”
“The patch.”
“My love,” he replied with great hesitation.
You have seen his sapphire eye multiple times before he always took it off before going to bed but it would always be when you were already asleep. Sometimes you would be able to see him if you woke up early enough before him. You loved the way he looked, but you knew deep insecurities lay with him because of his scar and eye.
“I want to see all of you.”
“You have all of me,” he said pulling you against him. Which caused you to feel him pressed against you, he let out a moan at the contact.
“You know how much I love you.”
“And my love for you.”
“Please?”
“Go ahead,” he muttered looking down at you.
You raised your hands to the back of his head in order to remove the eye patch. Once you got it off, Aemond looked away from you not wanting to meet your eyes. You pulled his chin back to you and placed your hand on his scarred cheek letting your thumb gently glide over the scar.
“You are the most handsome man I have ever had the chance to meet,” you whispered in admiration for him.
“I do not need your lies,” he muttered in sudden coldness. You knew this was a sensitive thing for him to be able to be this vulnerable with you.
You cradled his face in your hands pulling him down closer to you, so you could press a kiss next to the sapphire that replaced his eye.
“I have never lied to you.”
“I’m sorry, My Love," Aemond regretted his harsh tone.
“It’s okay, there is nothing to be sorry about,” you replied pressing another light kiss near his eye. You led him to your shared bed, and you laid down on the bed as he went to straddle over you.
“Gevie,” Aemond said letting his hands roam on your naked body sliding over your sides. (Beautiful)
He leaned down to capture your breast in his mouth while massaging the other with his hand. You moaned at the feeling of him lapping his tongue over your hardened nib. He took it between his teeth and pulled on it slightly causing you to spew out curses and tangle your hands in his hair. He moved from one to another until you were a moaning mess.
“Aemond,” you breathed heavily as he without any warning slipped a finger inside you.
He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you before adding another to further stretch you for him. He took your moans by kissing you. His tongue explored your mouth as you both fought for dominance even though you knew he would win in the end. You felt your stomach tighten and your walls clench around his fingers.
“Let go, love,” he purred by your ear kissing over the small bruises he had left on you earlier.
He quickened his pace the lewd sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you filled the chambers with your moans. You felt like a band snapped in your stomach as you released all over his fingers. Your body shook with pleasure as he worked you through your orgasm.
“My turn,” you smirked slowly sitting up from your position and pushing Aemond down onto the bed.
You took ahold of his length and pumped him with your hand. He let out low groans at the motion. You slid yourself down between his legs. You licked a long stripe along his shaft and slipped his tip into your mouth before pulling away. Teasing him with featherlight kisses on his thighs and along his shaft wanting to see him lose composure.
“Y/N,” he warned. “Now is not the time to tease.”
“Who said I was teasing?” you joked before slipping him into your mouth. Pushing yourself down his length slowly until you stopped where he hit the back of your throat.
Aemond gathered your hair out of your face and held it to the back of your head. With his other hand, he pushed you down further until you felt your nose pressed against his pelvis. Tears filled your eyes, but they encouraged you to please him even more. You let yourself still and try to take breaths through your nose as you let Aemond take control. His hips thrust against your face, and he fucked your throat raw.
Tears flowed from your eyes freely now, but you let him find his release by using you. That was until he stopped and guided your head all the way down his length. You felt the warm substance fill your throat as he moaned.
“Get up.”
Aemond found himself losing patience, which caused him to pull you up himself and flipped you around causing you to yelp at the sudden action. He slides his length through your slick and pushed the tip into you before pulling back out. He looked back down at you to lean down to kiss you once again.
“Aemond, please,” you begged.
“Patience, ābrazȳrys,” he smirked. (wife)
He pushed inside you slowly allowing him to sink into your warmth. He stilled for a moment inside you allowing you to adjust to his size. The feeling of fullness engulfed you making your mind a blur. Aemond groaned as you clenched your walls around him.
“Relax,” Aemond whispered.
He began rocking back and forth barely pulling out of you before pushing back in deeper. He bottomed out to quickly push himself back fully into you. He repeatedly brushed against that spot in you causing you to tightly wrap your legs around his waist in order to pull him closer to your body. He grunted as he felt you squeeze your walls around him tightly. The moans that left your lips encouraged him to quicken his pace as he had a bruising grip on your hips.
“Ao issi ñuhon,” Aemond groaned against your lips. “Say it.” (You are mine.)
“Nyke aōhon,” you replied with heavy breaths as you felt your release approaching you. (I am yours)
“As I am yours.”
“Aemond,” you moaned.
“Now, love,” he commanded.
Sweat glistened on both your bodies as you released around him, Aemond searched for his own release still snapping his hips against yours. Your body felt like it was on fire from the overstimulation. You felt yourself reaching your third orgasm as your walls closed in on him again. Aemond stopped his thrusts and hilted deep inside as he filled you with his cum.
“There. Maybe in a few moons, we will see you all nice and round with my babes,” Aemond said as he pushed more into you as if he were trying to push his cum more into your womb.
“Good-sister! You are glowing like the sun,” Helaena smiled at you as Aemond and you approached the table for breakfast.
“Thank you, Helaena, that is very kind of you,” you thanked taking one of her hands in yours and giving it a slight squeeze in appreciation as you took the seat beside her.
“How was the wedding night?” Aegon teased from beside Helaena with a knowing smirk.
“Brother, I will make you not able to enjoy such pleasures if you keep talking,” Aemond warned as you giggled at their banter.
“Children,” The Queen scolded from her seat. Your grandfather was the only one missing from the meal as everyone took their attendance. Even Rhaenrya and her family were there eating silently.
“Sorry, mother,” the two apologized as if they were two kids caught stealing from the kitchens.
“My sweet child, you and Aemond must visit Driftmark soon. The tides have been calling for you,” Lord Corlys told you.
“Of course, grandfather. Aemond and I were actually discussing a few nights ago,” you smiled at him.
“How wonderful! We will get your old chambers ready as soon as we arrive back,” Princess Rhaenys said joyfully.
“Baela, Rhaena, how are my brothers treating you?” you asked turning your attention to the two young ladies who still held a grudge against you but now for the favoritism from your shared grandparents.
“I do not see how it is any of your concern,” Baela snipped.
“Baela,” Daemon warned.
“What she meant was they are great,” Rhaena responded for the both of them.
“I am glad to hear,” you tried to say gently.
There was a knock on the door and Alicent told them to enter. A messenger approached the table going towards you which made Aemond quickly stand in front of you in defense. You saw a letter in the messenger’s hand, so you motioned for your husband to stand aside allowing the messenger to hand the letter to you.
“A raven came in this morning, it is addressed to you, My Princess.”
“Why, thank you,” the messenger left the room in a rush after.
You opened the letter that was a notice that someone of the name Addam of Hull was going to arrive at King’s Landing within the next moon. You wondered who the person was for them to address the letter to you. As you tried to recall the name, you noticed everyone still staring at you waiting for you to tell them about the letter.
“Does anyone know an Addam of Hull?” you questioned as you searched everyone’s faces for some sign of confirmation, but you noticed Rhaenrya and Daemon give each other a brief look of worry though you chose against mentioning it yet.
“Is that who wrote?” Rhaenyra questioned with underlying fright looking down at the letter in your hands.
“Yes.”
“I have never heard of an Addam of Hull,” Alicent told you.
“I am not completely certain, but I do believe he is the one who bonded with Seasmoke a few moons after Laenor’s death,” Corlys wondered aloud.
“My father’s dragon?” your eyes widen at the revelation.
“HE IS NOT YOUR FATHER!” Daemon shouted springing up from his seat and slamming his fists down on the table.
“He was more of a father than you ever were. He is my true father, the one who loved and protected me!” you snapped back at Daemon who stared at you with a look of hurt glazing over his eyes.
“Sweetheart, calm down,” Rhaenys soothed.
“I recommend you sit down, Uncle. Unless you want to be excused from the table,” Aemond told Daemon menacingly.
“Daemon,” Rhaenyra pleaded to her husband.
“It will do you good if you remember whose blood you are,” Daemon spat as he sat down.
“That is rich of you to say as my brothers and even myself are considered bastards,” you laughed at the hypocrisy.
“Y/N!” Rhaenyra scolded.
“What? I’m telling the truth,” you scoffed getting up abruptly and walking out of the room with Aemond following behind you.
“My love,” Aemond said from behind you catching up easily with his long strides.
“Aemond, they know something,” you said in exasperation turning to your husband.
“And we will get to the end of it, but we must keep our minds clear.”
“I think I know who Addam of Hull is.”
“Who?” Aemond questioned.
“You will think I have lost my mind,” you whispered with hope filling your heart.
“I would never judge you.”
“Aemond, what if-”
“Y/N, I know what you are going to say, and I do not want you filling yourself with hope on assumptions.”
“Aemond.”
“My love, I know you miss him,” Aemond pushed a piece of fallen hair from your braid behind your ear before lifting your chin with his finger to meet his eyes.
“More than anything.”
“I do not want you to hurt your heart if it was not true.”
“I know it is absurd but what if?”
“That is exactly what it is. A what if. I am not saying it’s not possible, but it is unlikely. We held the funeral for him. You wept for weeks over the loss. I do not know if you could go through the grief again,” Aemond said taking you into his arms as you placed your head into his chest with tears flowing from your eyes.
“I do not know either,” you murmured.
“Grandfather, it is me,” you sat next to Viserys beside his bed holding his hand and waiting for him to gain some sort of conscience.
“My Y/n. Hello, sweet child,” he said softly between breaths. You smiled as you noticed he remembered your name.
“Grandfather, I am here to tell you a story. Like you used to read to me,” you told him.
“What story is it today?” he questioned.
“The Song of Ice and Fire.”
“How wonderful,” he replied with aloofness.
“Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds, and whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living,” you started retelling what he told you all those years ago. “When this great winter comes all of Westeros must stand against it. And if the world of men is to survive, then a-”
“Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne,” Viserys said with a smile on his face.
“A king or queen, strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. Aegon called his dream ‘A Song of Ice and Fire.’” you continued. “This secret, it’s been passed from king to heir since Aegon’s time. One we must promise to keep and carry with protection.”
"From my blood come the prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire,” Viserys finished quietly.
“What was that, Grandfather?” you questioned.
“You. Are. The. ‘Prince’. That. Was. Promised,” Viserys answered with difficulty.
You thought back to your wedding night when Viserys told you, 'You are who is promised." At the time you
“Grandfather, I am afraid I do not understand.”
“You, my child, are the one to untie the Seven Kingdoms. You will bring peace to our people. Justice will serve under your reign,” Viserys said with full clarity giving your hand a light squeeze.
“Grandfather, I am scared.”
“I was too, but you will do great wonders.”
“I love you, Grandfather.”
“And I-i l-love you, my s-sweet Y/n. Y-you have done-e me proud,” Viserys coughed.
“I owe everything to your guidance,” you admitted to him.
“You are my legacy, Y/n. My gift to this kingdom was you,” he told you. “But now it is my time to reunite with My Aemma.”
“You have been an amazing grandfather and king,” you cried silently from his side as he took his last breath. “MAESTERS!”
“Y/n! What happened?” Aemond rushed into the room looking at you weeping at his father’s side knowing it only meant one thing.
“He is gone,” you croaked.
“I am glad, he left this world with you by his side,” Alicent said as she entered the room kneeling beside you.
“I am not ready,” you admitted.
“No one ever is,” Alicent comforted guiding you to stand letting Aemond take you in his arms allowing the maesters to get to work.
“It is your great good fortune and privilege to be here to witness this, a new day for our city. A new day for our realm,” the day has come for your and Aemond’s coronation. “A new reign to lead us.”
Anxiousness filled your body. You were standing next to Aemond in your coronation gown that resembled a bit of your wedding dress, but now it was pure white and lacing gold. The white represented the new light within the kingdom.
“May the Warrior give them courage. May the Smiths lend strength to their sword and shield. May the Father defend them in their need,” the High Septon recited. “ May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light their way to wisdom.”
“The crown of the Peace passed down through generations for the King,” Alicent announced holding Viserys crown for Aemond.
“And a new, forged for the new Queen. Made from pure Valyrian steel and the finest jewels representing each house,” your grandmother Rhaenys told the crowd. Which was filled with thousands of people.
Standing at Alicent’s side were Aegon, Helaena, and Otto. To Rhaenys’ side were Corlys, Baela, Rhaena, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Rhaenyra, and Daemon. It was an obvious split between the two families. Conjoined together by you and Aemond who stood in the middle of them.
“Let the Seven bear witness, Y/N AND AEMOND TARGARYEN AS THE TRUE HEIRS TO THE IRON THRONE,” the Septon shouted as both Alicent and Rhaenys placed the crowns on you both. “TO YOUR KING AND QUEEN!”
All of a sudden Aemond turns to face you after the crowns are placed and kneels before you.
“All hail Her Grace, Y/N, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm,” Aemond bowed to you.
You turned to look at your grandparents who were also bowing before you, and so were your siblings, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and even Otto. You notice from the corner of your eye that Rhaenyra had her head lowered beside Daemon as he was the one only who refuse to bow to you.
“Y/N the Queen!” Aemond finished off as he lifted his head to meet your eyes.
You lifted the ancestral dagger given to you by Lord Corlys from the House of Velaryon. The feeling was surreal. You looked to the audience in front of you who cheered in your honor. You only wished that your father and grandfather were there to see you.
“Y/N the Queen! Long live Y/N!” the crowd chanted.
“NO!”
“What was that?” Aemond sneered at the speaker.
“SHE IS NOT SUPPOSE TO BE QUEEN,” Daemon spat.
“YOU HAVE NO PLACE TO SPEAK TO YOUR QUEEN LIKE THIS,” Aemond barked back at Daemon.
You turned your attention to your husband who pointed BlackFyre at Daemon’s neck. Rhaenyra looked as if she were to burst into tears at any time. Baela and Rhaena looked at you with pleading eyes to do something to stop Aemond.
“GUARD! Please take Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen to the dungeons in await of a trial on the charges of the murder of Laenor Velaryon,” you commanded walking up to Aemond’s side. You place a hand on his forearm to guide his arm away from Daemon.
“You have no proof,” Daemon laughed as guards surrounded him and Rhaenrya.
“I have enough,” you said in anger.
“YOU KNOW YOU DID YOU, COWARD!” Lord Corlys shouted from his place. Princess Rhaenys stood next to him with unshed tears filling her eyes.
“Grandfather, please calm yourself. In the luxury of being royal, you are allowed a trial before further punishment. You will wait until further notice,” you pointed to Daemon and Rhaenyra who was being dragged by the guards.
“WHAT THEY DID WAS TREASON!” Corlys petitioned the court in the throne room.
Aemond was very adamant that you were to sit on the Iron Throne. Not even willing to allow himself near the chair itself. He stood near the front of the clearing of swords with his hand on the hilt of BlackFyre.
“Lord Corlys, I agree with you wholeheartedly though I do want to hear their reasoning for the murder of my father,” you told him.
“YOU KNOW THEIR REASONING!” he shouted back in rising anger though it was not towards you but at the situation.
“Lord Corlys, that is the Queen you are speaking to,” Aemond warned him.
“Husband, it is alright. I understand his frustration,” you said trying to calm everyone down.
“For the murder of my son, I want their head,” Corlys sneered at Daemon and Rhaenyra.
“Grandfather, this is a trial and they will have a chance in defending their absurd actions,” you snipped in. “Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra, please come forward.”
“Y/n,” Rhaenyra tried to call for you. “We never meant any harm.”
“No harm?” you scoffed. “You are responsible for the murder of my father, Ser Laenor Velaryon.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Daemon started.
“We did not murder him,” Rhaenyra quickly pushed out of her mouth the guilt getting to her.
“What?” your expression was filled with shock. “No.”
“We threatened him,” Daemon shrugged.
“In what way,” you spat. “My father would have never left me.”
“With your life,” Daemon sneered.
The council gasped at the revelation. Questions floated around the room with the number one being “Was Laenor Velaryon alive?” no one knows. Daemon did not realize he just outed the truth of their actions, and that it was treason to threaten the life of the Queen. Rhaenyra looked at her husband with betrayal in her eyes. For she did not know that was what Daemon threatened Laenor with for him to “go away”.
“ENOUGH!” Aemond yelled. “I have had enough of this nonsense. YOU THREATENED THE LIFE OF THE QUEEN! FOR THAT I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD.”
“Aemond,” you said taking his attention away from Daemon. “I have their punishment.”
“And w-what will that be, Your Grace?” Rhaenyra managed to get out.
“You will live in banishment with your families away from Westeros and stripped from your titles on the condition you must tell me, what you actually did to my father. And where his whereabouts are,” you announced to them. “If you choose not to cooperate with my given terms, I will let my husband be your executioner.”
“HE GOES BY A DIFFERENT NAME!” Rhaenyra blurted.
“Who cares where that cocksucker is,” Daemon scoffed. “I AM YOUR FATHER NOT HIM!”
“You are not a father of mine,” you snapped quickly quieting him.
“DAEMON, QUIET! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! STOP MAKING IT WORSE!” Rhaenyra snapped at him.
“And what is the name?” you questioned with your heart beating out of your chest in anticipation.
“Addam of Hull.”
The air left your lungs at the name. You looked at Aemond who had a wide smirk across his face and looked at you with a slight nod. Corlys and Rhaenys held each other in comfort at the news that their son was alive. You did not want to believe it. Your father is alive even after all these years.
“Take them and their families out of the keep with no belongings and make sure their dragons are in the pit while they leave,” you commanded the guards.
“Y/N, you must find it in yourself to have mercy,” Rhaenyra pleaded.
“Your family has done far too much to mine,” you spat. “This is me, giving you mercy.”
Everyone had left the Throne Room except you, Aemond, your grandparents, and a few of the guards and sworn shield. After the last lord left the room, you found yourself rushing to your grandparents' arms for comfort. Rhaenys held your head against her shoulder as you cried at the sudden relief in your body. After so many years of grieving for the sudden loss of your father, for it to now be revealed that he never died was unexplainable.
“Your Grace, there is someone at the gates,” a messenger came into the room alerting all of you.
“Well, who is it?” Aemond asked impatiently.
“I believe he said he goes by the name Addam of Hull? If I am not mistaken,” the messenger responded.
“Let him in,” Aemond commanded. “Quickly.”
“Aemond, what if he does not recognize me anymore?” as you made your way to your husband’s arms.
“You are unforgettable. He would never forget his daughter,” he answered.
“Introducing Addam of Hull.”
A man with a hood over his head walked into the throne room in silence. He avoided eye contact with everyone in the room until he came in close distance with you and Aemond. Which is when he slowly took off his hood showing a bald head. The man that stood before you was someone you knew all too well.
“My Queen, My King,” he greeted the both of you.
“None of that,” you whispered walking closer to him.
“I know you do not know who I a-” you cut him off with a bone-crushing hug.
He returned the hug immediately. You held onto him as if he would disappear the second you let go. He still smelled the same way he used to when you were a younger child. You buried your face into his shoulder letting out silent sobs.
“Father,” you pulled back to place your hands on his face to fully look at him. “You are back.”
“I am so sorry, my little love,” he apologized with tears flowing down his face. “I never meant to leave you, but I did it to protect you.”
“Father, what did they do to you?” wiping the tears off his face.
“He threatened him with such extreme measures, but I could not risk your life,” he cried pulling you back into his arms. “My sweet daughter, you mean for more than life itself. I would do it all again if it meant you would stay safe.”
“I have dealt with them,” you told him. “We will never have to worry about them again.”
“What?” he asked confusion filling his face.
“They are banished,” Aemond confirmed from behind you.
“My son,” Rhaenys cried out making her way to you two with Corlys trailing behind her.
“Mother. Father.”
“I will kill them,” Corlys sneered as he took his son into a hug.
“Grandfather, it is dealt with,” you calmed him. “There is no worst fate for them than my punishment.”
“They live with no title or fortune to their name, Lord Corlys. They will suffer greatly wherever they settle. It will be known even beyond Westeros that they are traitors,” Aemond reaffirmed to them.
“We will not stoop to their pettiness,” you told Corlys.
“Oh, my sweet daughter, look how much you have grown,” Laenor said softly admiring you. “I am sorry for all the time I have missed.”
“I understand, father.”
“You make a wonderful Queen,” Laenor complimented.
“I could not have done it without our family,”
“How much have I missed?” Laenor asked.
“Too much,” Rhaenys laughed. “Never again.”
Aemond wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you. You leaned back into his chest enjoying the reunion between your father and grandparents.
“Thank you for being my support,” you told Aemond.
“You deserve only the best of what life offers.”
“Aemond, truly, I love you, and thank you for sticking back by my side all these years.”
“You were by mine first,” he whispered into your ear. “I have loved you since the first moment I ever laid my eyes on you.”
“And I will love you till the end of my days,” you told him.
“Until our last breath,” he finished.
“I have news,” you raised your hand up to his scar, caressing the scar beneath his eye patch with your thumb.
“And what might that be?” Aemond raised his eyebrow at you in suspicion.
“I am with child, Aemond,” you smiled up at him. “I have already checked with the maesters to confirm.”
“I’m going to be a father?” he whispered in happy disbelief placing his hand on your stomach.
“A great one to our child,” you said as Aemond started to rub his hand on your stomach already imagining the child growing in you.
“Are you with child?” Rhaenys gasps bringing your attention back to your family which you gave her a nod.
“I’m going to be a grandsire?” Laenor yelped joyfully.
“Speak for yourself. I am going to be a great grandsire!” Corlys laughed excitedly.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x you#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen fanfic#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#reader insert#daemon targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#aemond the kinslayer
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How would Beau comfort reader who’s gotten home from work and is feeling overwhelmed and sooky? I’m in need of comfort my the cutie patootie pls and thank you beloved 🫶🥺
Hello, my love!
I know it's been a while since you requested this @chernayawidow, but I’m so sorry you’re feeling down. It’s my pleasure to fulfill this prompt for you! 😘💞
AN: This is sort of a sequel to “Didn’t Mean to Stay,” but can be read as a stand-alone.
Word Count: 3,000
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, lots of hurt/comfort, fluff, and feels.
Imagine: Beau gives you the support you need.
You heaved a sigh while climbing up the short flight of stairs to your apartment. Why the hell you decided to live on the second floor, you had no idea…
Okay, mainly for the safety aspect of being a single woman living alone, but at least for the past year, you hadn’t been all that single (or alone, for that matter).
Seeing Beau’s truck in the parking lot reminded you that your boyfriend was already home from work. It was rare that you got here after him, but you perked up a little.
I hope he got something for dinner. Your stomach began to rumble at even the first stray thought of food. After the ridiculous day you’d had, you’d happily eat your weight in just about anything.
A hearty sandwich, Chinese lo mien, a whopping burger with fries…hell, you’d eat a whole damn bag of pizza rolls. As long as it was hot and you didn’t have to cook it.
Once you managed to insert your key and unlock the apartment, immediately there was too much sound coming from the living room. Guns and blasting and whoops and hollers. It all grated on your ears and your frayed psyche.
You grimaced as you locked the door behind you.
“Are we being invaded?!” you called.
Mercifully, the cacophony ceased as you walked into the living room and found your boyfriend with a sheepish smile. On the TV was an old western classic, The Magnificent Seven.
Typical, you thought. Your Texan cowboy loved his westerns.
“Sorry. Too loud?” he asked.
“Just a touch,” you replied.
“Well, I’m glad you're home.” Beau nodded at the TV. “Was gonna ask you what your Netflix password is.”
“What, don’t tell me you settled for 1960s cowboys?” you quipped.
You dumped your purse on the coffee table and sunk onto the couch next to him. Beau slid an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer. You obliged by shucking off your shoes and resting against him, with your head on his shoulder. You let out a long sigh.
“Well, that was my fallback plan. See, damn Netflix booted me out and I’m really gearing up for that new season of Cake or Cake,” Beau said, with a somewhat childish smile that almost succeeded in tugging your lips upwards as well. Your brows drew together.
“Cake or…oh my God. You mean Is It Cake?” you asked. You nearly slapped yourself with your own hand as it came up to cover your eyes. Your shoulders shook with silent laughter.
“Ah, yeah. That one.” Beau grinned.
“I just can’t figure out how I keep guessing so wrong," he continued. "It looks like a hat. It should be a hat. How the hell is it actually cake? These guys are just so damn talented, I’ll tell ya. I mean, I’ve eaten my fair share of quality cake, but I ain’t never eaten a hat cake…though that does sound good to me, now that I think about it. Heh, I could finally say, ‘if that ain’t real, I’ll eat my own hat.’ And I’d actually be able to take a bite.”
Now, normally you found boyfriend’s diatribes incredibly endearing. Beau was a talker, and you appreciated having him with you at social gatherings. Not only was he great at connecting with people (something you very much admired), but the man was damn good at filling a silence.
Today, however, he was feeding the headache pulsing behind your eyes. You loved him dearly. Yet you were tempted to dig your nails into your own arm just to stop yourself from snapping at him to please, stop talking.
“Speakin’ of food, that reminds me. My stomach’s damn near ready to eat itself.” He eyed you. “What’s for dinner, baby?”
Your hand slid from your face and slapped onto your leg. Your head slowly turned to him.
“I don’t know, Beau. What’d you cook?” you said tartly.
It was an effort, considering how comfortable you were while tucked against him, but you moved his arm off your hip and lifted your heavy-feeling body off the couch. Shaking your head, you trudged a path over to your room.
You didn’t see it, but Beau frowned. Though you heard him follow after you. You did your best to go about your business, unbuttoning your pants and starting on your blouse. You were just so damn tired, and probably still anxious. Even your hands were trembling and fumbling with the buttons.
Still, you sensed him coming closer, saw his sock-covered feet out of the corner of your eye. The rest of him was comfortably dressed in sweatpants and a wool sweater you bought for him last month; he was getting better, but still acclimating to Montana winters.
“You’ve been here all this time,” you grumbled. “You see how late I’m coming in, and you don’t think, hey, my girl’s gonna be tired. Why don’t I figure out how to work the stove so she doesn’t have to worry about feeding my six-foot-ass, bottomless pit—”
Beau’s hands stilled yours, and he took over unbuttoning your blouse to help you. He bent his head enough to catch your eyes, smiling a little at your grumpy face.
“All right, all right. I see your point,” he said. “You had a bitch of day, huh?”
“The longest of my damn life,” you said. The stress of each moment played behind your eyes. So much that they stung with unshed tears when you raised your gaze to meet his.
Beau’s brows furrowed in sympathy. He paused in what he was doing to stroke your cheek and press a tender kiss to your forehead.
“And I wanna hear about it, but first, you go take a nice long shower,” he said. “What do you feel like eating?”
“Food,” you said petulantly. But he was being too sweet for you to be all that annoyed with him. A reluctant smile was growing across your lips. Beau smirked.
“You in the mood for Italian? Chinese? Maybe feeling a little adventurous and wanna try that Greek place down the street?” he suggested. “I think they deliver.”
By now he’d worked your blouse open. His hands were finding their way along the curve of your waist, smoothly across your skin, then meeting at the small of your back. He pressed the heel of one hand there, where he knew your shitty desk chair often made you ache.
You gripped his strong arms for support and leaned into him. You let out a sigh and rested your cheek against his chest, where he dropped another kiss on the top of your head.
“Greek sounds good, actually,” you confessed.
“Mmm, hell yeah. You want chicken, steak, or lamb on your gyro?” he asked. You felt the reverberation of his hum, and it was weirdly soothing. Though his question reminded you of one of your favorite movies that you too often quoted to him: My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
“What you mean he don’t eat no meat?” you said with a giggle. Beau’s lips moved to your forehead, and you felt the shape of his smile.
“It’s okay, I make lamb,” you both said together.
He chuckled and held you a bit tighter, secure and comforting. “All right. Lamb it is…you think they got cake on the menu?”
When you laughed, it was muffled by his sweater.
After a hot shower, good food, and three episodes of Is It Cake later, you were falling asleep on your corner of the couch.
All through dinner, Beau had listened to you vent about your day. About the problems your coworkers had hoisted on you to solve in the midst of a massive project you were already tackling. How your boss then blamed you for not coming to her first before you overloaded yourself, and how you’d very seriously contemplated going to HR before you figured just dealing with it would cause you less grief in the end.
Your boyfriend listened and gave his two cents, both supportive and fair. That was another thing you liked about him; he was always fair.
Now, he roused you out of your drowsy state when his arms wrapped around your frame and lifted you up.
You whined in protest. “Whaaat? Don’t move me.”
“Nope, you’re goin’ to bed,” he said, in his sheriff’s voice that boded no argument. You grumbled, but you still snuggled closer to his chest and pressed your sleepy face into his neck.
Smirking, he walked you into the bedroom and laid you down on your side of the bed. He came to your place often enough that he now had his own side, complete with his own nightstand and a couple of drawers of your dresser, even a bit of closet space.
You really should’ve just told him to move the hell in already, but you weren’t like Beau. He was a man of action. He processed things quickly and made decisions just as fast. His job demanded him to be that way.
You tended to drag your feet. You also tended to worry, and weigh pros and cons, and you were cautious by nature. Even dating this man had been a slow process, for which he’d been very patient with you. (And you with him, especially in the beginning as he learned to open up to you.)
The evidence was plain to see, as he raised the blankets and helped you roll underneath them. You just took him by surprise when you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him down with you.
“Hey!” he laughed. He had to brace himself against the mattress before he crushed you. His knees fell on either side of your hips while your arms twined around his neck.
“You’re a wily one, even half-asleep,” he remarked. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his soft brown hair.
“Like a rattlesnake in the tall grass,” you teased. In fairness, the two of you had gotten into watching David Attenborough's nature documentaries.
Beau’s brows raised, his smile deepening.
“Oh yeah? Better not mess around then,” he chuckled. “I might just get bit.”
You snorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
You leaned up until your lips were nearly brushing his. Beau’s eyes lowered to your face, taking in all the things that felt more like home than his little trailer near the woods.
Just before you would’ve closed the small breadth of distance, you veered away from his mouth and went for his neck instead. He even flinched at the tease of your teeth playfully biting him.
"You little vixen!" He laughed deeply as he unwound your arms from his neck. He pinned you down to the bed and pressed his hips down into yours over the sheets. But it was his claiming lips that stopped you from fighting back.
Your shoulders trembled with giggles that he swallowed up, kiss after kiss. Your eyes closed as he dragged the sheets down away from your body. His hands caressed you through your thin tank top, brushing over a hardened nipple with the back of his hand, then squeezing your breast through the fabric.
You sighed into his mouth. “I know I kind of started this, but I’m really tired, baby…”
“Who says you gotta do anything?” rumbled his rich voice.
A tremor of heat ran through you. Even with your eyes closed, your exhausted body responded to his touch. His lips drew a hot, wet path down your neck, all while his hands did sinfully good things, sliding under your tank top and gliding against your skin. You let him take it all the way off, followed by your pajama pants and cotton panties, though he paused to squeeze your ass in appreciation.
“Someone’s been doing squats,” he noted, grinning down at you.
“Nah, just an extra slice of that honey cake,” you retorted. Apparently, the Greeks liked honey on everything.
Beau’s head tilted. “Huh. Well, I do like me some cake.”
You laughed, then jolted with a yelp when he slapped a bare cheek.
But you couldn’t just lay idle when he started on his own clothes. You sat up and helped him raise the sweater up and over his shoulders, but he stopped you.
“I mean it. You just lie back and relax,” he said, giving you a charming grin. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes; he was just too damn good to you.
While he finished taking off the sweater, your hands drifted down to the waistband of his pants. You caressed the hardening length of him, earning a hiss and a groan from him.
“Can’t I just…” you tried.
With difficulty, Beau grabbed your wrist. He raised a brow at you and guided you back down.
“For once, I’m ‘a need you to listen to me,” he said, kissing your cheek and then the other side of your neck.
You breathed a laugh, but it caught on a moan as his fingers brushed through your wet folds. He made a sound of approval. And those nimble fingers gathered some of your wetness and began circling slowly over your clit.
You sucked in a breath and arched against him. You even whimpered a little as his free hand wound through your hair, giving him further access to your neck. He hummed against your skin and grazed his teeth under your ear.
“I gotcha, baby. Whenever you need it,” he said, low and steady. You gripped his arms for dear life as two of his fingers slipped deep inside you. You panted into his neck, rocked your hips mostly in time with his fingers as they twisted and pulsed around your tightening walls. His thumb rubbed against your throbbing clit.
“Please,” you whispered into his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. “Want you inside me.”
“We’re gettin’ there,” Beau nodded. He was breathing harder too, just from anticipation. The sounds you were making, the way you were squeezing his hand from the inside had him painfully hard.
“Now,” you insisted. Your hands moved to grip his hair, and your lips met his in a devouring kiss.
Beau matched your passion with closed eyes and furrowed brows. He’d had a plan for you at the start of this, but what kind of man would he be if he didn’t abide by your wishes?
So he withdrew his fingers from your slick pussy, even though you uttered a shuddering breath. It took everything you had within you to remain still and resting against the pillows as you caught your breath. You wanted to wrestle down his sweatpants yourself and show your boyfriend how appreciative you could be.
But you also appreciated what he was trying to do. You watched him with tired, but still hungry eyes as he kicked off the pants and the boxer briefs and returned to you, bracing a forearm above your head after he spread your legs and raised up your knees.
He lowered himself between the warm cradle of your thighs and kissed down your chest, licked between the valley of your breasts.
You arched up again when his tongue found your nipple, swirling around it, and finally taking it between his teeth. His hips rolled against yours, making his cock press against your core teasingly.
“Beau, for the love of God,” you moaned.
He chuckled. “Maybe you oughta learn how to be patient.”
You grabbed his bearded face between both hands and raised him up to you. He noted your challenging brow, but also your smile.
“Maybe you shouldn’t tease the rattlesnake,” you replied.
Beau laughed and ducked his forehead against yours. “Okay, darlin’. I’m sorry.”
He nosed at your cheek, angling for a kiss. You tipped your head back and welcomed his lips, especially when his tongue slipped past to tangle with yours. His forearm was braced above your head, but his free hand left your hip to line himself up to your entrance.
Another shudder went through your body as he finally slid home inside you. The shape and feeling of his cock was familiar as it stretched your inner walls, and you caught his moan in your mouth.
Your legs wrapped around his hips and squeezed, forcing him in deeper. His eyes screwed shut as he lost focus for a moment. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the feeling of you, or the sound of your voice, or the way you trusted him, but still tried to give as much as you took.
He pulled out nearly all the way, slowly sliding back in so you’d feel every inch. You clenched on him as a tremble ran through your body.
You uttered a broken gasp of his name that spearheaded goosebumps across his skin. And his next movements were faster, though just as deep.
He followed the encouragements of your voice, especially when he shifted his hips at an angle he knew would make you writhe. His fingers stroking your already sensitive clit, in time with his last wild thrusts, had you threatening to rip out a chunk of his hair. Instead, you gasped in his ear and dug your fingers into his hips.
His own release followed yours shortly after; he could only resist you squeezing the life out of him from the inside out for so long. And you held him afterwards, even though he still had a trembling arm braced above you.
Your hands smoothed up and down his back, trailing lightly with your nails. His breath was hot, but not uncomfortable against your neck.
You felt absolutely boneless as your legs slid from his hips. He pulled out of you soon after, but your embrace kept him from moving very far. He rested on his side, and you turned towards him. You both knew you’d have to deal with the sheets and the cleanup, but not just yet.
You carded your fingers more soothingly through his hair and drew his face back to yours.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered. And you didn’t just mean in this bed. “I haven’t had that in a long time.”
Beau’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You don’t gotta thank me for that.”
“Yeah, I do,” you nodded. Your lips formed a tired smile before they pressed softly to his. “I love you.”
Beau took a moment to brush a sweaty strand of hair away from your face. He’d believed in second chances before he met you…just not for himself. Meeting you made him swear by them.
“Love you too,” he said.
And the warmth of that bone-deep knowledge was more satisfying than even the heftiest slice of cake.
AN: God, I love Beau. I miss Big Sky. 😭 But feel free to let me know what you think of this one! It's only my second time, but I really do love writing this guy. ❤️
And tell me...are you team cake 🍰 or team pie 🥧?
Big Sky Masterlist
Main Masterlist
BA Tag List:
@deans-baby-momma @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92
@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @waters-2567
@ultrahviolentart @deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @ades106 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester @beautyvaliant @beskarfilms
@syrma-sensei @tmb510 @fabimaou @mimaria420 @fromcaintodean @mrsjenniferwinchester @jc-winchester @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @charmed-asylum @globetrotter28
#Beau Arlen imagine#Beau gives you the support you need#big sky#beau arlen#beau arlen x reader#beau arlen x female reader#beau arlen x you#Beau Arlen smut#fluff#hurt/comfort#zepskies writes
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My favorite quotes from each Doctor (TV only)
I'll have to do some for the EU too sometime.
One: "I don't make threats. But I do keep promises. And I promise you I shall cause you more trouble than you bargained for, if you don't return my property!"
Two (about his family): "Oh yes, I can when I want to. And that's the point really. I have to really want to, to bring them back in front of my eyes. The rest of the time they....they sleep in my mind and I forget."
Three: "Courage isn't a matter of not being frightened, you know. It's being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway."
Four: "You see, if someone who knew the future pointed out a child to you and told you that that child would grow up totally evil, to be a ruthless dictator who would destroy millions of lives, could you then kill that child?"
Five: "Once a man fell asleep and dreamt he was a frog. When he woke up, he didn't know if he was a man who dreamt he was a frog, or a frog who was now dreaming he was a man."
Six: "This is a situation that requires tact and finesse. Fortunately, I am blessed with both!"
Seven (while fighting the Master): "If we fight like animals, we die like animals!"
Eight (god the fact I'm limiting this post to TV is killing me, really shot myself in the foot there): "You're tired of life but afraid of dying!"
Nine: "Just this once, everybody lives!"
Ten: "Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters, it's the person."
Eleven: "Nine hundred years of time and space and I've never met someone who wasn't important."
Twelve: "This is not a war. I fought in a bigger war than you will ever know. I did worse things than you could ever imagine, and when I close my eyes....I hear more screams than anyone could ever be able to count! And do you know what you do with all that pain? Shall I tell you where you put it? You hold it tight....til it burns your hands. And you say this - no one else will ever have to live like this. No one else will ever have to feel this pain. Not on my watch."
Thirteen: "You're wrong about humans. They're not pathetic; they're magnificent. They live with their fears, doubts, guilts. They face them down every day. And they prevail. That's not weakness. That's strength. That's what humanity is."
Bonuses (crack edition) - if you recognize all of these please marry me
"Don't be lasagna."
"Yes, I made some cocoa and got engaged."
"These shoes! They fit perfectly."
"Kill yourself."
"An unintelligent enemy is far less dangerous than an intelligent one, Jamie. Just act stupid...Do you think you can manage that?"
"If I'm ever in need of advice from a psychotic potato dwarf, you'll be the first to know."
"I tolerate this century, but I don't like it."
"I always find violent exercise makes me hungry, don't you agree?"
"If I had crayons and half a can of Spam, I could build you from scratch!"
"I'm the Doctor; I'm worse than everybody's aunt!"
"The assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't get through those doors, and believe me, they've tried."
"Self pity is all I have left!"
"Come to Daddy. I mean Mummy. I mean....I really need you right now!"
"An apple a day keeps the....Ah. No, never mind."
"It was the daisiest daisy I'd ever seen."
"Now drop your weapons or I'll kill him with this deadly jelly baby!"
"In my time, I have been threatened by experts, and I don't rate you very highly at all."
#stay tuned for when i pull the audio quotes outta my ass too#doctor who#dw#classic who#dr who#new who#first doctor#second doctor#third doctor#fourth doctor#fifth doctor#sixth doctor#seventh doctor#eighth doctor#ninth doctor#tenth doctor#eleventh doctor#twelfth doctor#thirteenth doctor#quotes
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And of course I am obliged to send in a Magnificent Seven request as your resident Magnificent Seven mutual! (Although if I wasn’t supposed to send in more than one I am sorry and you can feel free to get rid of whichever request you like least.)
Anyways, could I maybe ask for the Magnificent Seven as a group with a platonic female reader? They meet the teenage reader while on a mission where she offers to help them out with her sharpshooting skills, and after seeing how skilled she is an how she doesn’t really have anywhere to go they offer her a place with them. She has a good relationship with everyone and is either a daughter or younger sister figure to the rest of the Seven - or, rather, Eight with her on the team - but they all get the sense that there’s something she’s holding back. Finally, while gathering information for a mission, they notice her talking to another young woman and looking very flustered and manage to peace together what’s happening: the reader likes girls and was too scared to tell them for fear of getting kicked out of the group. So as a group, they all sit her down and talk to her and tell her that of course they accept her and would never leave her, and she admits they’re really the only family she’s ever had and it’s all really familial and sweet?
Again, thanks so much in advance if you do choose to write this, and I do hope you’re doing well!! <3
'eight of us' - the magnificent seven
masterlist
Sam Chisholm is starting to think that this whole journey may never end.
That’s not terrible, all things considered. A week or two ago, Sam was pretty certain that he would end up dead by daylight. Cowboys and outlaws, convicts and loners, don’t tend to stay alive long in these parts, and if they do manage to eke a living, it’ll be desperate and constantly challenged by nature and man alike. He’s alive. His traveling companions are alive. That should be all he needs to puff out his chest and say that he’s lived a good life.
Still, though. Questions plague him as they do any other man. Questions like if he should carry on in this fashion, for one thing, and with these people. He enjoys the other six men in what local legend has started to call the ‘Magnificent Seven,’ and although the title seems rather magnanimous for Sam’s taste, he can’t deny that it’s got a certain ring to it. Finding someone you truly trust to watch your back in a firefight is a rare thing. If Sam’s got it now, why should he give it up?
Maybe it’s the uncertainty of it all that really has Sam wondering where his life will lead him. When he was younger, the mystery of a life on the road called to him like an apple in the Garden of Eden. Sure, his childhood friends could find themselves something special by settling down with someone, or finding a stable job they knew would keep them fed, clothed, and out of trouble, but that had never attracted Sam like the allure of a bit of danger.
He’s got a job too, anyway. He’s a regular U.S. Marshal, against all odds. Not that Sam getting the job was any rare occurrence, just that he’s still got it. Sam is one of the rare men who seems to enjoy thrusting himself directly in the path of danger. The fact that he hasn’t ended up on the wrong side of a duel or bar brawl yet is a minor miracle.
If he were in the mood for some introspection, plain and simple, Sam would admit that he recently came pretty damn close to the end of the road for that front. In an effort to liberate the frontier town of Rose Creek from some mining tycoons, he had rallied up a group of fine men and women to fight greedy fools who’d become too attached to their own coin purses and not nearly fond enough of their own fellow man. The idea had been good. It had been done for the right reasons.
Still, as dawn came over the liberated town, Sam and the others nearly found themselves celebrating in a casket instead of an open bar. Sam can’t quite describe it, how the danger of it all still hangs over him like a foggy morning’s chill. He’s been in fights before, bad ones. He’s no stranger to the whistle of gunfire, the knowledge that he might not make it out alive. Still, there was never anything like this.
Maybe that’s why he hasn’t yet moved on to his typical life. He’ll still uphold the law, of course, you can take the man out of the office but you can’t take the office out of the man, but he can do it with several friends by his side. It’s a fine thing, not being alone. It tests your patience something terrible when you’ve got a chorus of snores going when you’re trying to catch forty winks, but it reminds you that you’re not alone in this great and glorious world of yours. It makes Sam think that he might have done something right beyond the requirements of duty. Sam found a family of sorts, and he’s got them no matter what.
No, he decides, he won’t leave. In fact, he might even test the boundaries of this band of brothers by adding another member. Sam has been the de facto leader of the bunch for a while now, perhaps because it sometimes feels like he’s the only one capable of making decisions with a clear head more than half the time, but the others respect his resolutions wholeheartedly whenever he goes to the trouble of pronouncing one.
So, when Sam announces late one night that he’d like to welcome a neighborhood stray into the group, no one objects. The decision has been a long time in the making, that much is clear. There’s been a girl hanging around their camp for a while now, a teenager out of school but not the least bit interested in a marriage proposal.
From what Sam has observed, and he’s had plenty of time to do so, Y/N L/N is far more interested in the careful care and usage of her gun than any boy her age. Not that he can blame her; the scrubby adolescents in this small town, just like in any other identical village before or after it on the long road to salvation or at least the eastern seaboard, are a riotous mess of bad decisions and cracking voices. Shotguns are far more fascinating creatures, and at least they aim true if given proper care and attention.
Y/N’s offered to join their group a few times by now, the offers ranging wildly in nuance and discretion. The first time, she was extraordinarily cagey with her words, mentioning only that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if, you know, she was to spend a little more time with the wayward men than normal. A few days later, she brought up how useful her sharpshooting abilities would be on the road. Yesterday, she tracked Sam down and informed him none too cautiously that, on account of her family being nowhere to keep her tied down, she would have nothing stopping her from joining their ranks.
Sam had laughed and told her that he’d think about it. True to his word, Sam has been pondering the matter for a while. Y/N’s a fine fellow. Her conversation is good and her manners better, even when she’s trying to push the matter of her acceptance into the band of travelers. She wasn’t exaggerating when talking to Sam earlier, either; Y/N’s skill with a gun is nothing short of spectacular. If Sam was looking for additional people to join their party, she’d be the first on his list. And, since there’s nothing stopping him from swelling the ranks, he decides that they’ll take her on. Easy as that.
He tells her the next morning, after the men have had time to sit and ponder the nature of their new visitor. They were all accepting of this new condition, of course, but Sam didn’t really think there would be any problems. Heaven knows Goodnight’s been hinting awful heavy that it wouldn’t be all that bad were they to take on another poor soul in their quest to liberate small towns from tyranny.
Y/N, too, is thrilled. She does her best to play it down, of course, not wanting to seem needlessly exuberant, but Sam can see it in her eyes that she’s pleased. It doesn’t take long for her to pack up her belongings and sell the rest, which concerns him a little. In the end, any observation of her affairs makes him all the happier that they’ve taken her on.
And so the Magnificent Seven– no, make it eight now– leaves town once again, setting their sights for the long and restless road. Y/N’s got a horse of her own, and although it may be no champion thoroughbred, it’s got good legs and can keep up with the rest without getting tired, which is never something to scoff at. For the first few days or so, Y/N is overly careful to be polite and avoid offending anyone by accident, but then the shyness wears off and it’s like she’s been one of them all this time.
A few months in, Sam can hardly remember a time when Y/N wasn’t there. She’s laughing the hardest at Faraday’s jokes around the campfire, she’s an ace shot when they need firearm support, she’s just as much one of them as Sam himself.
Only–
Only, there’s something she still isn’t telling them. Sam can’t put a name on it for certain, but he’s devoted an awful lot of time to watching people for secrets, and he’s pretty sure she’s got one that she isn’t all that inclined to tell him. All of the signs are there: shifting eyes, odd silence on certain topics, quick changes of conversation when one of them starts asking her questions she doesn’t want to answer. Normally, Sam wouldn’t begrudge anyone for their silence, they’ve all got things they’d rather not speak on, but Y/N has never been anything but open. This sort of wariness from her is unusual, and it makes Sam wonder just what sort of secret she’s so intent on keeping.
He carefully brings it up to Goodnight in private, just to ask the other man’s thoughts, but the former soldier agrees with him, says he’s noticed it on his own, too. Goodnight is sure the secret is harmless, but Sam has seen many a harmless secret turn into something quite harmful indeed under the blunt force of pressure and fear.
It’s not like he doesn’t trust Y/N. He does. She’s more than proven herself capable of watching his back in a fight. She’s one of the more honest people he’s ever met, but the weight of this secret has clearly been gnawing at her for a while, and sometimes that kind of force can wear a person thin before they least expect it.
He should ask her what it is. He should wait until she brings it up first. Sam’s mind is torn between methods of how to go about finding out this secret, but then when he’s least expecting it, the answer arrives to him in the form of a visit to a new town.
The party has been there for an hour or two before Sam finally gets what he’s been wanting: some answers. They’ve split up a little to canvas the streets and get information. Supposedly, a band of thieves has been terrorizing this town, but since they wear masks, no one knows their true identities. Sam has just finished thanking an elderly gentleman for telling him all he knows about the attackers when he turns to see Y/N talking to a young woman about her age.
Well, talking is really an overstatement. The young lady is talking, to be sure. Y/N seems hardly able to get a sentence out. Her face looks hot and she’s stammering, more flustered than Sam has ever seen her. Funnily enough, it reminds Sam of a few boys from his hometown when they were talking to the girls they liked–
Oh.
And then it hits him. That’s the secret, then. Y/N manages to wrap up the conversation and starts walking back down the street, but she’s not gone far before she runs into Sam. They don’t even have to say anything for Y/N’s face to fall. Her eyes go wide with fright. When you’ve been holding a secret within yourself for so long, when you’ve been so terrified of discovery, you know when somebody’s found you out because you’ve imagined that very scenario happening hundreds of times before. Sam knows, and Y/N knows too.
He gestures for her to walk with him, and Y/N does, her footsteps uneven and unsteady. “Y/N,” Sam says pleasantly, “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“I think you already know,” she whispers. “It’s not– if you want me to leave the group, I would understand.”
This shocks Sam more than the revelation. “Why on earth would I do that? You’re a proud member of our little circle, Miss L/N, I’m not inclined to get rid of you unless you wish to be rid of us.”
Y/N casts him a quick, disbelieving glance. “Are you sure? I mean, now that you know that I– that I like girls.”
Sam chuckles. “So do many of the rest of us, and that hasn’t seemed to discourage anyone.”
A slow, careful smile blossoms on Y/N’s face. “You’re sure?”
“Very,” Sam answers her. “If you’d like to tell the others, I’m sure they’d have the same reaction as me. We’re a company, Y/N. We stick together.”
“That we do,” Y/N murmurs.
The rest of the group is waiting up ahead of them, ready to review the information they’ve learned. Sam meets Goodnight’s eyes and nods once, signaling that he’s found out what’s been keeping their youngest member so occupied. Y/N nods too. She’s got something to say, but for once, she isn’t afraid.
requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!
magnificent seven tag list: message me to be added!
all tags list: @wordsarelife
#magnificent seven#magnificent seven imagines#magnificent seven x reader#magnificent seven oneshot#magnificent seven fanfic#the magnificent seven#the magnificent seven imagines#the magnificent seven x reader#the magnificent seven oneshot#the magnificent seven fanfic#sam chisholm#sam chisholm oneshot#sam chisholm fanfic
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Ghost Stories
13 Days of Halloween: Day 8
Plot: When you and Goodnight end up camping out alone in the desert. Goodnight tells you the sad and eerie tale of the settlers who had been there before you.
Pairing: Goodnight Robicheaux x Gn!Reader
Warnings: None~
Words: 1.2k
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You stretched as you looked around the deserted area you and Goodnight stopped at for the night. You were too far away from town to make it back before dark, so camping out seemed the best idea.
As an orange flame flickered as Goodnight started a fire, you set down your bed roll on the flattest part of rock you could find. As you began rolling it out, you heard a voice in the near distance that caught your attention.
Looking out at the empty plane ahead of you, the full moon's light allowed you to see there was no one around. Noting there was no breeze to carry any voices, you felt goosebumps rise up your arms. You listened carefully, telling yourself it couldn't have been a person, even if it sounded like it.
Seeing Goodie looking out as well, you turned towards him. "Did you hear that?"
Goodnight made his way over to you, and you saw a slight smile cross his face before he laid out his bedroll beside yours.
"Yeah, and we'll hear more."
You rose your brow as you watched him sit down without another word.
You sat down beside him "What does that mean?"
"Well, this place has a history."
His eyes scanned the area, and you looked out as well.
When you had arrived in the area earlier, you noted piles of wood, and even stone lying around, making you think there had been some structures at some point, but nothing was left standing.
"What do you mean?"
Goodnight cleared his throat, as he lowered and deepened his voice "There was a settlement here quite a while back, I'm not exactly sure how long ago. But, people began to settle, because of the spring in the mountains. They thought they could build a town out here."
"Why are you talking like that." You said abruptly.
He looked over at you "Like what?"
"You put on a voice."
"Well, I'm just trying to tell the story the way it should be told."
You squinted a bit "Alright, fine, but don't push it."
He snickered softly before he continued.
"So, the settlement at one point, had about fifty people living here. They'd take trips into the nearest town to gather supplies, usually someone from the settlement would be seen in town every few days. But, one day the people in the town started to realize, that no one from the settlement had come into town for about a week. So, a few people decided to come out here and check on the settlers. When they got here, you know what they found?"
He looked over at you, and your mind raced with ideas. Slaughtered families, burnt down houses, this wasn't the area that sort of thing happened in, but you weren't sure where else this story would be heading. You shook your head, uncertain.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing. No living person was in the settlement. All the livestock were still here, all the horses, all of the carriages and carts. Just no people. When they checked the homes, they found no blood, no signs of distress. Some houses had food on the table like they had sat down for dinner, but never finished."
"Did they find them?"
"Never. They checked the surrounding areas, the mountains, everywhere. They even went into the other closest town, which was way to far to anyone to walk to. But no one there had seen a single new person come into town in the last month. Not a single person from the settlement, dead or alive was found, nor heard from again. To this day, no one knows what happened to them."
You felt chills crawl up your spine as you looked out at the area. You had never heard of anything like it.
"You're just joking right? Just trying to scare me?"
He smiled softly "I think I could think of something worse if I wanted scare you sweetheart. No, the stories true, we pass through the next town you can ask about it, they'll tell you."
"So the voice we heard? That happens a lot?"
He nodded his head "People who come through here hear a lot of things. Voices, horses, carriages, the lot, and there is never anything actually there."
"Surely there has to be an explanation."
Just as you spoke, you heard the familiar sound of hoof beats and creaking wheels of a carriage. As your head to snap towards the sound, Goodnight reached for his gun, but as neither of you saw anything, a chill fell over you.
Goodnight glanced over at you "You got an explanation for that?"
You shook your head softly "I wish I did. I also wish I didn't let you tell me that story."
"Don't worry-" Goodies voice was right in your ear, making you jump a little "-I'll keep you safe." He finished with a grin.
"Tch, stop teasing me." You warned, but you didn't move away from him, still sitting close beside him.
He smiled but looked out at the valley again. "One night, years back, before I had ever heard the story myself. I was camping out right around here. I was woken up by the loud sound of a carriage, and horses, like what just happened. It was so loud, it sounded like I was about to get run over. So I jumped up and yelled out, hoping I didn't get killed by whatever idiot was coming through. But, as I looked around, even though I could still hear the sounds, there was nothing around, not a single sign of life but me and my horse. When I went into town the next day I mentioned to to an old friend there, and he told me the story of the settlement."
You cast your eyes on a pile of wood in the distance, that you assume used to be someone's home, what was left of it anyways.
"I wonder what happened to them."
Hearing a high-pitched coyote call in the distance, you jumped, you hands finding Goodie's arm. As you realized the cause of the noise, you let out a sigh and rolled our eyes and your own cowardice.
Goodie chuckled as he moved his arm to wrap it around you. Pulling you closer, he pressed a soft kiss to your head "Didn't mean to make you so scared"
You rested your head against his shoulder "Yes you did."
"Alright, yes I did. But, I'll keep you safe."
As the sound of a horse could be heard in the distance, where no horse was. You shook your head lightly "I'm not gonna be able to sleep now."
"Just try. The ghosts, spirits, or whatever you want to called them, can't hurt you."
As you settled down into your bed roll, Goodie looked down at you. "Tell me a different story, one that's not so eerie."
Goodie smiled as he looked up for a moment before he started to talk, telling a story of a past adventure.
As you closed your eyes, you curled closer to him, trying to focus on the sound of his voice, while trying to ignore the sound of quiet crying you could hear rising in the distance.
xx End xx
General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry
Mag7 Taglist: @spuffyfan394
#goodnight robicheaux#magnificent seven#magnificent 7#magnificent seven 2016#goodnight robicheaux x reader#goodnight robicheaux/reader#mag7#13 days of halloween#day 8#goodie x reader#goodnight robicheaux imagine#mag7 imagine#magnificent seven imagine#goodnight x reader#mag7 halloween#halloween 2022#ethan hawke x reader#ethan hawke imagine#mag7 oneshot#oneshot#one shot#fic#ghost stories
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You know what would be a great way for Shang Qinghua and Luo Binghe to bond?
...
Shang Qinghua using the system with its knock-off version of spotify to teach Luo Binghe how to Serenade Shen Qingqiu.
Just...
Imagine.
This fluffy demonic "sheep" in wolfs clothing.
At 2 in the morning.
With enchanted instruments. (no, he will never allow anyone else to see Shen Yuan in Pyjamas. EVER.)
This creature of unholy mornings, opens its mouth after taking a deep breath, and out comes...
Comes...
Something...
MAGNIFICENT...
Malevolent...
Show-stopping...
37 seven year old CLASSIC...
"Never gonna give you up~!" In sloppy english. With an obvious accent. A STRONG accent.
The next song Luo Binghe sings?
"Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo
Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo
Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo
Baby Sha-"
You bet Shen Yuan gets revenge on Airplane-
#svsss#svsss ideas#svsss au#shen yuan#mxtx#luo binghe#shen qingqiu#shang qinghua#scum villain's self saving system#shang qinghua tells luo binghe to serenade shen qingqiu AU
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Hello,
I apologize in advance if you've already answered something like this but my cursory look didn't show anything. I am looking for a game system that has an emphasis on the feeling of a wild west movie while still retaining general fantasy elements from DND. The wild spaces are slowly becoming tamed, increasing technological/magical advancement are pushing disparate communities together, and of course cocky assholes with guns (or a magical equivalent).
Thanks in advance
Theme: Wild West Fantasy
Hello friend, you might want to check out my Fantasy Westerns rec post, to see if anything there fits what you’re looking for. I especially recommend checking out the rec for We Deal In Lead and Clink. For the rest of this post, I try to span a very broad range, so I don't expect everything to stick - but perhaps one or two do!
Inevitable, by Soul Muppet Publishing.
Knights and wizards have defended the Kingdom of Myth for centuries. These lands have known peace and prosperity, but soon the kingdom shall be destroyed. The Prophets have declared that your city shall burn and Myth will fall. All those who follow your King shall die. It is INEVITABLE.
But you shall defy fate. Myth will not end while you bear arms.
You will fail, but as long as there are still stories, they will sing of you!
Inevitable is a Arthurian Western roleplaying game for 2-6 players and a GM, where your party of disastrously sad cowboy knights fail to stop the apocalypse. This 284 page book contains all the rules, character creation and the setting for your campaign, thoroughly and evocatively detailing The Barren, the lands surrounding the Kingdom of Myth.
This game might be way you’re looking for: it describes itself as a fantasy kingdom, with western aesthetics. There are wizards, prophets, and rune-carved revolvers. Your reputation in the kingdom is important; it determines how well you can face challenges, and roll pools of d6 on a table of staggered success. If you want a taste before you buy, there’s a Quickstart with some evocative set pieces, a quick overview of the rules, and a quick adventure to run through with a list of pre-generated characters.
Far West, by Adamant Entertainment.
Imagine a fantasy setting that shatters the tropes of Medieval Europe.
Imagine a collision of Spaghetti Westerns and Chinese Wuxia by way of Steampunk.
Imagine a world where gunslingers and kung fu masters face off against Steam Barons and the August Throne.
Imagine fantastic machines powered by the furies comprising the fabric of the universe.
Imagine an endless frontier where wandering heroes fight for righteous causes while secret societies engage in shadow wars.
Imagine…
This game is a combination of Wild Western tropes and Wuxia fantasy. Your characters are wandering heroes, defending the small and helpless against the strong and powerful. I look at this game and I think of movies like The Magnificent Seven. Mechanically, it’s its own system, but it draws heavily from Fate, using positive and negative aspects to boost rolls and spark complications.This game relies on some tropes that require entire table buy-in: I’m not sure how many assumptions the game makes about the cultures it takes inspiration from.
Holler: An Appalachian Apocalypse (Savage Worlds), by Pinnacle Entertainment.
In Holler, the mysterious “Big Boys” own the mines, mills, and logging operations. They rule over every aspect of their workers’ lives—subjecting them to extraordinary dangers on the job and crushing oppression outside of it. The Big Boys have transformed the land of the Holler—rivers bubble with strange chemicals, strip-mined mountains crumble into valleys, and the air is choked with a toxic fog known as the Blight. The flora and fauna of the Holler grow more monstrous by the day. Demons of every description lurk in the forests. Mutant cryptids haunt villages with their strange cries and appetites. Vengeful haints leer from abandoned shacks and lonely cliffs. No one is coming to save the people of Holler.
The goal of the resistance is to build a coalition, to bring together diverse factions—humble workers, roustabouts, mountain men, dirt track racers, cultists, and even strange creatures of myth and legend to raze the works of the Big Boys and drive them from the Holler forever. Holler draws deeply on Appalachian history, mythic folklore, and culture to create a dark fantasy world of apocalypse and vengeance.
This sounds a little more grim and gritty, with cryptids, toxic fog and demons lurking in the forest. It uses the Savage Worlds system, so you’ll have to pick up the codebook to play with it, but the setting is very very fleshed out. This is a little less Wild West and a little more Appalachia, and the setting is a bit more on the horror side than most of the other games on this list, but there’s certainly a lot of wildness out there for you to fight!
TROUPE, by TheOriginalCockatrice.
A game about travel, discovery, and outsiderness, a combination of the best of Old-School and Story Games. Complete with 6 Jobs, including the Ghelf, the Hedge, and the Ogra, and includes a system for holistically coming up with a character from scratch.
The designer describes this game as an exploration of the road; the odd and unknown of the wild, what it means to belong, and what it means to be on the outside. You’re not heroes - you’re entertainers, jokers, healers and bards. There isn’t exactly magic, but there is myth and legend. This is a great game for folks who want plenty of challenges that exist outside of combat. Each character playbook comes with a balance of mechanical elements and descriptive options, and you’ll be rolling 2d6 plus your stat in order to determine success.
I’m not sure how much of a Western this is, but the designer actually hacked this game for BXLLET, a game about gunslingers in the apocalypse, in the zine Bxllet Clip, so it might be worth checking out!
Shotguns & Sorcery, by Full Moon Enterprises.
Welcome to Dragon City, a grim, gritty metropolis ruled over by the Dragon Emperor, with legions of zombies scratching at the city walls by night.
Whether in the streets of Goblintown or the prestigious halls of the Academy of Arcane Apprenticeship, people try to scrape by, make a living, and survive from one day to the next. You, however, are looking for something more than simple survival. And in this city, if you don’t make your own adventure, another adventure is sure to find you.
Shotguns & Sorcery is a fantasy noir game complete with Dragon City Intrigues, roving hoards of undead, and unexplored mountains rife with magical creatures. You’ll see magical staffs alongside light pistols, bows alongside submachine guns, and greatswords alongside canteens, playing cards and a camp stove. The game uses the Cypher System, with an additional character option alongside the three-part character sentence: your race. This includes the signature hafling, elf, dwarf etc.
Games I’ve Recommended in the Past
Knights of the Road, by bordercholly.
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𝑷𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕
Masterlist
Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Stargazing, Date Night, Soft Gojo, Sweet Talker Gojo, Kissing, Multiple Kiss, French Kissing, Teasing, Reader is Genderless. (This is a Repost but I added more detail! Enjoy!)
Summary : Although your world is always surrounded by seven colors, your gaze is always drawn to his presence.
Warm embrace, stole a glance, giggling with a hue of crimson cheeks and a fluttered heart. These are all things you can do when he's around you.
Sometimes you wonder where his sweetness comes from. Maybe you should ask him?
"Do you think it is enough?"
A serene grin danced on Satoru's lips, revealing a warm side of him. He locked his eyes into you and sealed an enigmatic love in his realms. With a gentle gesture, he is settled next to you, following your gaze to the beautiful stars that paint the night sky.
"Thank you, Satoru-kun," you reflected, gazing deeply into his eyes, trying to find his love in the serene night. "Never in my wildest dream did I imagine stargazing in the middle of the woods, haha."
"Why?" He giggled while savoring the warm embrace of hot chocolate. "You hate the woods?"
You chuckled teasingly and pinched his cheek, relishing the softness around your fingertips. "Oh, Satoru-kun, my dear, the woods aren't a romantic place, haha. You need to choose something better, maybe the beach."
A playful note tingled with his laughter, and he teasingly brushed your waist. Embracing you, wanting to share his warmth with you, exploring your beauty. "Are you sure about that, sweetheart?"
At the same time, his eyes were gracing yours, locking you gently, and sealing you. You didn't know why his eyes looked like that. They were so blue, almost like a deep ocean, with crescent moons as a backdrop. Don't forget about his other features, such as the beautiful eyelashes, pink kissable lips, and silver hair framing his gorgeous face.
How could you resist him if he looks this magnificent?
"Huh, but it's special because..." he paused, lending a mysterious tone to his voice. "It was only you and me in this place."
"Yes, Suguru-kun and Shoko-chan are busy."
As an ethereal warmth wrapped his musings, he nestled softly on your shoulder, and entwining his fingers with yours as if he needed your gentleness. He muffled your name between his breaths.
As a response, you playfully ran your fingers through his silver hair. "Are you okay?" You asked, sealing a kiss on his head.
"Yes, of course I am. I'm happy spending my time with you." As he says those magic words, a cute blush paints his cheeks, sending a constellation of translucent stars above his head. "How could I live without you? I adore you, my dear."
"Satoru-kun, the sweet talker." You laughed and pinched his nose. "Who put you up to this? Mei-san, perhaps?"
With a sigh, Satoru encircled his arm around your waist, attempting to steal your breath, your warmth, your attention, and your love.
He lifted his head and cupped your face. A mischievous smile curls on his lips. "Even when the moonlight caresses its pale light, Your beauty never fades from your face."
"Another edition of the sweet talker Satoru-kun?"
He teases. "Who knows, you'll adore this sweet talker Gojo Satoru!"
With playful finesse, he traced the contours of your jawline, allowing his fingertips to linger over your face, "Hey... may I—" and then he sealed a gentle kiss on your lips.
Not only one.
He placed another kiss.
Another followed.
Again. And again.
His lips melded with yours, and the two of you danced in a sensual duet. Until he tries to venture into your mouth, counting your teeth with his tongue, sinking it into your mouth, entering your mouth, melding with yours, and giving them a little sucking.
Later you will remember the taste of hot chocolate in his mouth, the sweetness of the marshmallows he ate earlier, or the smell of tea leaves that you didn't know where they came from.
"Sa...to...~ kun—"
He pulled out after realizing you were almost passed out from the kissing. He knows this well; you always enjoyed his kiss. He always knew how to surprise you.
"Oh..." A string of saliva linking the two of you, from his mouth to yours and he immediately brushed them with his thumb. "Sorry, I couldn't help it."
"Oh, Satoru-kun is a good kisser."
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The World You See | Prologue | Seokjin | BTS OT7 x Reader Fanfiction
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CONTENT WARNING
This story has explicit descriptions of death, drug use, alcohol use, addiction, sex, language, mental illness, suicide, and other possibly triggering content.
If this will effect your well being in ANY WAY, PLEASE DO NOT READ!
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
ABOUT
Genre ☆ Fantasy / Romance (Fanfiction)
Rating ☆ Mature (18+ Minors DNI)
Pairing ☆ BTS OT7 x Reader
Story Type ☆ Angel BTS (AU)
SUMMARY
You've always seen the world a bit differently than others. It was like your magic power. And maybe that was why only you could see the lights that night. The big, astronomical explosion of lights that rained down to earth in colors you had never known to have existed until now. Little did you know about a divine destiny beyond your wildest dreams, and seven angelic beings brought down from heaven to guide you.
Apparently, the world is ending, and they're convinced that you're the one to save it. All you have to do, is figure out how.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
11:55 p.m.
It was a surreal feeling, watching a house fall to ash around him.
If it weren't for the excruciating heat and the carbonyl fumes, Kim Seokjin might have found the whole experience... pretty. Poetic even, like a dance. A dance between creation and carnage, an inseparable pair, who waltzed among the earth in a chaotic symbiosis.
One nursed life whereas the other bred death--polar opposites yet, they could never exist outside of each other. Without life, there'd be no death. Without death, life would have no purpose. An extraordinary affair that lay tale to an unbreakable bond.
Marvelous.
Bewitching.
Uncanny.
A terrific performance, and Seokjin had an unparalleled point of view.
Caged in by fire from every side, his body was splayed on the hardwood floor, brown eyes captivated by the sultry, orange glow above. Plush pink lips parted in awe as a single tear rolled down his cheek, stunned by the sheer magnificence of it all. The flames ruthlessly sought to consume, snapping and crackling as their heat devoured whatever they could find. Eventually, the man knew he'd be found too.
He wasn't afraid, though.
As he laid there to bare witness, Seokjin realized it wasn't as bad as he imagined it to be. Dying this way. The pain was irrefutable and his existence begged for release, lungs aching for clean air as they filled with more debris. Slow, painfully slow, he could feel the flesh start to drip off his bones, first degree burns tattooing his skin.
An unrelenting agony, yet his opinion spoke of worse ways to go.
Or perhaps he thought as such being that the feeling offered a... familiarity of sorts. Meat cooking around bone was a sensation he'd grown unnaturally used to. Fire's were his job, after all. Vanquishing them to be precise, nearly a decades worth. And if he learned anything in those ten years, a gluttonous blaze served only one purpose, to destroy.
Carnage.
Which is why Seokjin felt the fire to be completely immaculate. It was merely fulfilling its role in the universe, dancing the part. Nothing personal. As a matter of fact, the man only had himself to blame. He shouldn't have returned to disturb its process. How stupid of him, letting his ego cloud better judgement. Not as if he hadn't been warned, the man was just--
Too
Damn
Stubborn.
"YA! KIM SEOKJIN, YOU IDIOT, COME BACK!" He could still hear the voice of his senior, screaming after him, begging him stop. But Seokjin hadn't stopped. Hadn't gone back.
He never listened.
11:58 p.m.
Coughing weakly, Seokjin turned his head to relieve some pressure weighing on his chest. Every inhale spent his declining energy, as the smoke and monoxide exhausted his lungs. Fatigue ghosted the crests of his lids and he felt an obscure fogginess sink inside his brain, vision blurring like a camera out of focus.
There wasn't much time now.
"That is just like you Jinny. Always acting first, never thinking things through. You be careful my boy, that'll getcha dead one'a these days." His mom had cautioned. She had been joking of course, though he now felt a cruel sense of irony in her warning.
Nevertheless, Seokjin held no regrets. There was nothing to regret.
Life had been generous to him, Seokjin had no complaints where that was concerned. A loving family, good friends, and a job that rewarded both his pockets and his soul. Even if it meant dying right here, the man would do it over again in a heart beat.
Obviously, he wished for more time to enjoy it. Meet a nice girl, get married and have a few kids. Continue to help more people along the way. Eventually retire and settle down, live out the rest of his days in peace. Hell, maybe grow some vegetables in his backyard and take those cooking classes he'd kept putting off.
Maybe in the next life.
11:59 p.m.
Moments later, a loud, blasting noise ascended from the foyer below. Distant voices grew closer, approaching the front of the house. Seokjin's ears perked, catching the sounds with a gracious smile. He recognized one of them, his senior.
Feeling thankful for his colleague's loyalty, Seokjin tried to get as comfortable as possible. They'd find him in about fifteen minutes. Soon enough that he'd still be a handsome corpse, but the man was realistic. His life was beyond salvation, though at least his mother will be spared a charred carcass to identify.
Seokjin sighed contently, the rise and fall of his chest pulling him further into the floor. The heat sweltering his flesh dried him up from the inside out, fair skin turned red and raw. Gradually, it had become miserable simply to remain alive.
Even so.
Despite enduring all that pain, at the same time it felt as if he were in no pain at all.
The next thing he knew, Seokjin began to drift away. As his eyes fluttered shut, the last thing he saw was a brilliant, hot flash of light. Whether a trick of his mind or an figment of reality, the color was something he'd never seen before. An impossible color, and that elated him, swelling his heart with joy. Because for some reason, that was the last bit of assurance he needed to completely let go.
So he let go.
0:00 a.m.
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Chapter 20
The Princess & The Lawyer: Chapter XX
Summary: Leo McKenzie’s arrest infuriates a dangerous man. During an interview with Julia’s best friend, Princess and Detective Roth learn shocking new information. Theories about the stalker’s identity are discussed.
Masterlist
Word Count: 5,536
Warnings: Murder, stalking, domestic violence, kidnapping, criminal investigative work, and mention of medical treatment.
Chapter XX
The killer stared at the wall. Usually, this was an activity he enjoyed.
It was decorated by his own hand, a shrine to his achievements and a showcase of awards, certificates, prizes, mingled with photos of his greatest successes. Each addition to the wall was a testament to his dedication, skill, and tireless work ethic. Staring at this wall was a visual reminder of his mastery over life’s turmoil.
On nights when his insomnia wouldn’t let him fall into the blissful arms of Morpheus, looking at it soothed him. Right now, he desperately needed to be soothed. Sleep had eluded him for days now, and even the pride of his meticulously curated accolades made him feel hollow. Grimly, he accepted the painful truth - these prizes were hollow.
His real accomplishments couldn’t be displayed in the open, not if he valued his freedom. Being misunderstood was so frustrating. The frustration simmered, an ember of discontent that had been stroked into a raging fire by the arrest of Leo McKenzie.
He thought he’d closed that chapter of his life twenty years ago when he’d framed Shun Nguyen.
Choosing Nguyen as his scapegoat had been a masterstroke of cunning. To this day he counted it as one of his finest moments. Drawing the doctor to him and gaining his confidence had been easy, like luring a moth to a flame. Thanks to careful planning, and a bit of luck, he’d eluded the long arm of justice. The police had closed the case and he’d walked away without so much as a scratch on his own reputation.
He hadn’t minded Dr. Nguyen taking credit for his work, but Leo McKenzie? McKenzie was a washed up bar fly. He was a lazy, dim-witted idiot. The killer couldn’t understand how the police could look at that fool and think, even for a second, that he’d been responsible for such cleverly planned and flawlessly executed crimes?
Were they mocking him? Or, worse, were they mocking his work?
What really got under his skin was trying to wrap his head around how anyone would think that imbecile McKenzie had the restraint to stop killing. That was a struggle he knew well. It was an endless torment, one that tested his self-control every day for the past two decades. He’d gone to incredible lengths to keep himself on the straight and narrow. Giving up his true passion after he’d nearly perfected the art of the untraceable crime had been painful, but he’d given it up.
Doing so had been the most grueling feat of his entire life.
He’d stopped after killing Julia and dedicated himself to other pursuits. With great effort, he’d managed to hold his darker impulses in check, because he was a man of discipline and intelligence. That intelligence was more vast than anyone could imagine or appreciate, even those who knew him well.
His gaze shifted to the television in the adjoining room. It had been on all night, the flashing lights keeping him company long after he’d muted the sound. Now, it played the seven o’clock broadcast from the local NBC affiliate. Their lead story was about Leo McKenzie. None of the information in it was news to him; he’d lived in Harmony for decades and knew everyone. McKenzie was a twice divorced weekend alcoholic with a spending problem. Eventually, people would see him for what he was, and when they did, he’d be cleared as a suspect and released.
But when? How much longer did he have to endure this disrespect? How much longer would a moron be given credit for the things he’d done?
His eyes returned to the wall of achievements - a magnificent tapestry that suddenly looked incomplete. It didn’t hold his most significant contributions, and he lamented that omission with a deep sorrow. The world couldn’t recognize his genius if he hid himself away, but if he showed them who he really was, they wouldn’t understand.
Frustration surged like a bolt of electricity and jealousy gnawed at his chest like a case of progressive heartburn that couldn’t be treated with conventional methods. Something had to be done. He hadn’t slept in days and he was snappish and irritable. He couldn’t go on like this; something had to change but everyone was so blind and obtuse - the police, the media, even those high-profile investigators Clayton Bishop had sent down from D.C. were useless. His jaw clenched and he willed the internal turmoil to subside.
What good was being a genius when no one acknowledged it?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Please, have a seat," Aliyah Kissinger waved her hand towards the dining room table in invitation.
It was long enough to seat twelve, and made of an expensive looking dark wood. Detective Roth sat at the head of the table. You took the chair on his left.
Aliyah, as she'd requested you call her, sat across from you.
"What can I do for you?" she asked.
Mrs. Aliyah Montgomery, formerly Kissinger, carried herself with the confidence of a 90s supermodel, projecting an aura of sophistication that only came from experience.
You recognized it instantly because you’d seen the male version of it on Lloyd and Mr. Bishop.
Her hair was ironed to pin-straight perfection and her features sculpted by an expensive contour that blended so seamlessly into her skin that it was almost invisible. She wore wide-legged ivory pants and a silk turquoise shell.
"We're here to ask you about Julia Xiarong. You were friends with her twenty years ago, correct?" Roth asked.
"Yes. I gave my statements to the police back then and I don’t have anything new to add.”
"My questions will be more expansive than what you were asked before. We're taking another look at the case. Anything you can remember would be much appreciated."
She arched a well-groomed eyebrow. "Why? I thought you arrested Leo McKenzie?”
"The investigation is still ongoing."
Aliyah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I see. I'm not sure I can be of help."
"Mrs. Montgomery, you knew Julia well,” you said, phrasing the question as a statement.
"Yes. We were very close, Ms. …?"
You gave your name and noted a flicker of recognition cross her face.
"You're from Clayton Bishop's firm, aren't you?" Alliyah said.
"I am."
"Clayton was the only person on the case who could get anything done. The police were useless. They couldn't find their way out of a paper bag with a map, a trail of breadcrumbs, and GPS instructions."
Roth cleared his throat. "Could you tell us what you remember about the months leading up to Julia's death?"
Aliyah’s lips tightened but nothing else on her face moved. You'd noticed the botox when she'd greeted you at the front door. Her forehead was utterly smooth, even when she smiled, but the muscles around her mouth and in her cheeks were still active.
"What about them?" she asked, her voice just a degree shy of hostility.
"Did your book club meet weekly or monthly?" you asked.
It didn't take much to understand why Aliyah despised the police. She'd been approving of Bishop and relying on your association with him to soften her up seemed like the best play. Roth leaned back and closed his notebook, a silent cue for you to take the lead.
"Weekly," she said.
"Where and when was your last meeting?"
She swallowed, throat moving. "Starbucks, the Saturday before she was killed."
"Could you tell me a little about the members of your book club?"
She obliged and listed their names, giving you brief biographies of the members. You didn’t pick up any stress cues. Playing the game of hot and cold, you asked more questions. When you brought up the relationships between members, Aliyah’s gaze dropped to the table and her fingers curled into her palms.
"Did Julia have any disagreements with other members of the book club?" you asked.
Her lips pursed. "Disagreements? No, never. She was very personable. Julia organized the book club in the first place, she was friends with everyone."
You'd struck a nerve. Her forehead was almost wrinkling as she frowned, which was amazing, especially considering the discretely hidden facelift scars you’d just noticed by her left ear.
"But she had a disagreement with someone, didn't she? Do you remember who?"
Aliyah flicked a glance at Roth.
"Did Julia have a disagreement with you, Ms. Kissinger?" you asked, deliberately calling her by her former last name.
"Montgomery! It's not Kissinger anymore."
Despite the flash of anger, you kept your expression calm and spoke in a placid tone.
"I apologize, Mrs. Montgomery. Did you and Julia have a disagreement before she was killed?"
Her dramatic lash extensions made it easy to observe the change in her blink rate as her stress level rose. It was too fast for you to count, pushing the triple digits. Her shoulders were visibly moving with each breath now. Roth was silent, doing his best impression of the invisible man. Aliyah's attention remained squarely on the threatening party: you.
"I don't want to discuss this."
"Having a more complete picture of what was going on in Julia’s life when she died could help us make a case against the person who really killed her,” you said.
Disgust flashed across Aliyah's face, wrinkling her nose and curling her lip for a split second before she covered the reaction. Her chin jerked up as she tossed her head.
"Sweetheart, everyone with an IQ above ten knows who killed Julia."
You smiled, unbothered by the insult. Aliyah was doing everything she could to distract you from... something, but her weapons weren't as sharp as she thought they were.
"Do you remember the topic of your argument with Julia on the Saturday before she disappeared?"
This time you risked naming a specific date, interested in the effect it might have. Aliyah twisted her neck from side to side, enthralled by the patterns in the table’s wood grain again. Silence hung over the room. It was so quiet that you could hear the second hand of Roth’s watch ticking.
Finally, Aliyah answered.
"Yes."
"What did you argue about?"
"It was a long time ago,” she said.
"You can't remember?"
"Shun murdered Julia. Clayton knew it, the media knew it... I knew it. Her death was an open and shut case."
Ignoring her attempt to redirect the topic of conversation, you kept pushing her and stuck to your original line of questioning.
"Why did you and Julia argue, Aliyah?"
"It was just a book club meeting."
"You didn't talk about books that day, did you?"
A muscle jumped in her cheek. "Julia and I talked about a lot of things, all the time. She was my best friend."
Her hands illustrated as she spoke, but then abruptly dropped into her lap on the phrase ‘she was my best friend.’ You watched as she pressed them together, fingers flexing. It was odd to see such acute distress flare up during a discussion about events that took place decades ago. Guilt, fear, anger, sadness… There were so many emotions flashing from your subject that it was hard to decide where to take the conversation next.
Instead of asking another question, you waited, letting the silence linger until it became awkward.
Aliyah refused to fill the silence.
You stayed quiet.
Her lashes were fluttering again and her eyes darted between you, the table, the window, and then to the right, in the direction of her front door. Talking about this argument had her teetering on the edge of a flight response and that made you very, very curious.
"What if I don't want to discuss this?" she asked.
"It's your right to end this interview at any time. Is that what you want?"
Her eyes closed briefly. After she’d taken a deep breath, they opened again. She met your gaze with a piercing stare. Her lips parted, then snapped shut. Her head dropped until her chin almost touched her chest and hung there for a few seconds. Then she looked up.
"Do you have a best friend?"
You bent the truth a little. "Yes."
"How would you feel if you lost them?"
"Devastated."
She nodded, approving of your response. “I felt devastated. I regretted what I said to her, and looking back... it wasn't my place. I didn’t tell anyone about the argument because of all the media attention. At the time I didn’t think the argument was important…”
She trailed off with a frown.
When she didn’t continue after a moment, you prompted her gently.
"Aliyah. Why didn’t you think the argument was important?”
"It was… You know what, this is ridiculous! Julia’s been dead for more than twenty years and her killer - the real one - escaped justice. We don’t need to go down this rabbit hole, okay?”
“You don’t believe Leo McKenzie killed Julia. Why?”
Her lips curved into a half smirk, the left corner of her mouth tightening. She’d flashed contempt at you a few times already but this time it lingered openly on her face. You recognized the non-verbal challenge and knew better than to take the bait. Aliyah was a family law attorney specializing in ugly divorces. You knew you’d never beat her by meeting aggression with aggression; that was her bread and butter, where she spent most of her time.
You sighed, letting your shoulders slump and eased back from the table, uncrossing your legs.
"I guess we don't need to waste anymore of your time."
You were careful about the emphasis you placed on the pronouns. It wasn’t an overt challenge, but the implication - you’re the one who wasted our time - landed immediately.
Aliyah's nostrils flared. "You're barking up the wrong tree. What we argued about was irrelevant to the investigation. It can’t help your case and if it got out…” she broke off, shaking her head. “There’s no sense in slandering someone’s reputation after all this time.”
“This is a cold case, Ms. Kissinger. Learning everything we can about Julia’s life is the best approach we have.”
Her lips twisted. "Telling you won't bring Julia back."
"No. Nothing will bring her back. But we’re here today because you knew her better than anyone else. Anything that might be relevant to our investigation, even tangentially, could help us. You read the article in the Rolling Stone, didn’t you?”
She nodded and you scooted forward to the edge of your seat, leaning in.
“There’s momentum in the case because the second body heated up public interest again. We might have a second chance at justice and those don’t come along everyday. Please. Let’s not waste this opportunity.”
Aliyah's teeth sank into her lower lip. She pressed a hand to her chest and wrapped her other arm around her waist. Her gaze shifted, fixing on a point beyond your shoulder.
"I was helping with her immigration paperwork. It’s not my area of expertise, but she needed to get her citizenship… living with Shun was awful.”
Her dark, troubled eyes flicked to your face and you nodded, encouraging her to continue.
"A few days before we argued, a mutual friend told me that Julia was seeing someone."
The hair on the back of your neck stood up.
Aliyah continued. "My friend saw them on a date a few days before. At first I didn't believe her, but then it suddenly made sense. Shun worked 24 hour shifts in the ER from Tuesday to Wednesday and the timing of the date felt right. So, I asked her about it and Julia confirmed the date had happened.”
"Who was she dating?"
"Leo McKenzie.”
You were stunned.
Aliyah smiled at your reaction. "I know, but trust me - twenty years ago Leo was much better looking than he is now. He still had some of that military polish on him and hadn’t developed that horrible beer gut yet. Seven nights a week you could find him chatting up the ladies at McGinty's. He was a serial dater and if that had been all there was to it, I wouldn't have confronted Julia, but… well, Leo wasn't the only guy she was seeing."
A love triangle. There was a secret love triangle in the middle of the Nguyen case.
"Who was the other guy?"
Her face creased - as much as it could, between the botox and facelift - and she rubbed her chest.
"I don't know. She never told me who it was. Julia was a bit of a flirt. She made friends easily and always knew how to keep a conversation going. Her English had improved a lot since she’d moved to Harmony and it gave her the confidence to put herself out there a little more. Unfortunately, a little more turned into a lot more. Her immigration status had tied her to Shun for practical reasons, but Julia didn’t love him. For her their relationship was just a buffer to keep ICE at bay.”
Shun Nguyen... Leo McKenzie... and mystery man. Every time this roller coaster ride seemed to be leveling out, a new twist popped up.
"How long had she been seeing this mystery man?" you asked.
"A couple months," Aliyah said. "I was fine with her dating, honestly, but the situation with Shun was precarious. All it would’ve taken was one bad argument and a neighbor reporting a domestic disturbance. Then her problems would’ve become infinitely more complicated.”
Her hands went up in a helpless gesture, then fell limply into her lap. She closed her eyes, sighing. When she opened them again her expression was sad, and a little bit angry. “Hiding one boyfriend? That’s doable, but two?” She shook her head. “Two is a balancing act, three is juggling… and no one can juggle forever.”
“What kind of complications were you concerned about?” you asked.
“I figured if he got really mad, he’d go to immigration and have her deported. Julia didn’t believe he’d do it, but Shun was obsessed with her. He was so possessive and controlling. If he’d known she was cheating on him, he would’ve gone over the edge.”
Her assessment matched your impression of Dr. Nguyen from Singapore. He was arrogant, vain, and bad-tempered. If someone pushed the right combination of buttons, he could become very, very dangerous.
“On the Saturday before she disappeared, I told Julia she needed to break it off with Leo, but she refused. I wish I could tell you more, but to be honest, I got mad and things escalated from there. We didn’t have much of a discussion, we just argued."
“Did you have any theories about Mystery Man’s identity?” you asked.
"Sure. Armondo, the barista at Starbucks. Jay, from our pottery class, and Mason Phelps, who coached our workout group. However, after she died, I spoke to each of them and it turned out that none of them were mystery man."
"Do you think Leo or Mystery Man had something to do with Julia's death?"
Aliyah waved her hand as if pushing the idea away. "No, the real threat to Julia's safety was living with her and nobody ever really doubted that Shun was responsible for her death and those missing women."
"Did Julia ever mention having a cousin in the U.S?"
You hadn't planned on asking this question, but it was out of your mouth before you could think it through. The older woman paused, considering. Just as you were about to apologize and redirect the conversation, Aliyah snapped her fingers.
"Oh, yes! I remember! Her cousin's name was Li Weng Chapman, right?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Riverbank Diner was one of the few eateries inside the Harmony city limits. Lloyd and Zach were seated in a corner booth at the back of the restaurant. In the kitchen, staff was bustling around, preparing for the evening rush.
Lloyd watched Zach polish off a huge plate of corned beef hash browns.
“When’s the last time you saw a cardiologist?”
“Fuck off. My cholesterol is excellent.”
“You know the high numbers are bad, right? It’s kind of like golf,” Lloyd said.
Zach sneered. “At least I’ll die of natural causes… unlike you.”
The bells on the door jingled as Landon entered, a thin stack of files under his arm.
“You look like you’ve been burning the midnight oil,” Lloyd said.
“A bit,” Landon said, sliding in next to Zach.
“That's great, give me the list.”
He reached for the files but Landon jerked them away. “Uh-uh. Before I start, we need to go over a few rules.”
Lloyd’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of rules?”
“This isn’t a kill list. You can’t exterminate all the suspects just to soothe your anxiety, are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
Landon sighed. “I don’t trust him, do you?”
“Hell no,” Zach said. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him on a short leash. Give us the list.”
“I’ve narrowed it down to four names, which I ranked by level of suspicion. Suspect number four is Juan Medero.”
Lloyd’s eyebrows rose. “Her brother-in-law?”
“There’s been a recent stressor in his life and he’s got a history of anger-management problems.”
“Give me that.”
Landon passed him the file. “The stressor is his wife’s pregnancy, but I have to tell you, Juan made the suspect list mainly because I couldn’t eliminate him. We know he was at the park during the first incident and if you remember the photo that was left on Princess’ car? Yeah, he wasn’t in it. All the other members of her family were captured in the background, except for him.”
“How tall is he?” Lloyd asked.
“He’s five-foot eight. Depending on shoes, he might be tall enough to be the attacker.”
“But he couldn’t have known she was staying at my place.”
“Not true. Vivian put Life360 on Princess’ phone. If they’re like most couples they share their passwords, so it’s not much of a leap to say that he could’ve used Vivian’s phone to find her.”
“Juan has known her for years though, why snap now?” Zack asked.
“A need for power and control. The stalker wants to scare Princess. If Juan is under extreme stress he might be using this game as an outlet for that tension. It’s just a theory of course, but the major red flag on Juan was his arrest record.”
Zach reached for the file. “What arrest record?”
“He’s been in bar fights - several in the past six months.”
“They’re all misdemeanors,” Lloyd said.
“The judge allowed him to be charged with misdemeanors because he agreed to anger-management therapy.”
“He’s worth looking into,” Zach admitted. “Who’s next? Did you put Westin on the list?”
Landon grunted, flicking his boss an annoyed look. “Yes, because you insisted.”
“Why is Westin on the list? I thought I took care of that,” Lloyd said.
“Nope, not even close. You should see their emails.”
“What email?” Lloyd demanded.
“Emails, phone calls, texts… he’s a real piece of work,” Zach said.
“He’s had it in for Princess from day one,” Landon said. “I put him in the number three spot, but there’s nothing to indicate a non-professional interest in their messages, he’s just a micromanaging asshole.”
“The paralegals hate him even more than they hate me,” Lloyd said. “They’ll cannibalize him soon. What did you dig up on him?”
“Not that much. No kids, never married, he’s lived in the D.C. area most of his adult life. He worked his way up to middle management by changing jobs every six years or so. Word on the street is that he’s obnoxious, but he gets results.”
Lloyd grunted. “I’ll talk to Jen and see if we can think of a way to hurry him out the door.”
Zach and Landon stared.
“What?” Lloyd asked.
“You’re going to talk to Jen?” Zach said.
“We have an arrangement where I buy her expensive spa packages and she does me favors. Why are you looking at me like that? She gets results, okay?”
“Princess was right,” Landon muttered.
“How worried do you think we should be?” Zach asked.
“Personally, I’m terrified,” Landon said. “Lloyd, just so there’s no confusion, the deal we made earlier applies to Jen, too. You can’t have her kill Westin for you.”
“How many spa packages do you think that would cost me?”
Landon scowled and reached for his phone as it buzzed, turning his attention to the screen as he responded to a text message.
“Are any of the other suspects from the office? What about Andy Barber? And I know you don’t want to think about it, but what about Jake?”
“Jake was nowhere near the park during the first incident and he was on assignments for me during two of the others,” Zach said.
“He’s a tech genius. He could’ve covered his tracks a million different ways,” Lloyd said. “Andy Barber hides it well, but he’s meaner than you’d think, and he’s always been a little over familiar with Princess.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “Get a grip, Lloyd. This isn’t a witch hunt for you to go persecute your romantic rivals. Jake’s not psycho and neither is Barber. Aside from that, they’re both over six feet tall.”
“Can’t we investigate Andy? Just a little?”
“If you want to tug on that leash, Zach, now’s the time to do it,” Landon said, not even glancing up from his phone when Lloyd bared his teeth at him.
“Right. Sorry, I’m used to Princess taking care of this stuff.”
Zach squared his shoulders, facing Lloyd. “Listen, we don’t have cause to dig into Andy. We’re looking for someone who wants to hurt Princess, not date her.”
Landon finished texting and reached for the next file. “Okay, suspect number two. Georgina Rochester. She and Aiden dated off and on during college. She’s got a record with campus police for threatening another girl who dated Aiden while they were in an off phase. The interesting thing about Georginia is that she used to have classes with Princess.”
“What did she major in?” Lloyd asked.
“Criminal Science and Psychology.”
“I’ve seen this girl before. She was with Aiden in the restaurant the night he broke up with Princess.”
“If we take into account when the stalking started Georgina’s involvement starts to make a lot of sense,” Landon said. “I know she doesn’t match my profile, but her education might be the reason why. She could be mimicking how she thinks a stalker should communicate, which would influence my profile. This whole thing could be a ruse to scare Princess away from Aiden.”
Zach raised an eyebrow. “She’s taken it pretty far if that’s the case.”
“Georgina doesn’t come across as the most stable person in the world to begin with, but if you check out the next page…”
Lloyd frowned. “She applied to the FBI academy? Damn… her psych report is worse than mine.”
“I want to see that,” Zach said, leaning over to grab the file. He read it and let out a low whistle. “Holy shit, she failed this one hard. Low-stress tolerance, lack of impulse control, poor compartmentalization skills… Landon, translation, please?”
“She’s an anxious control freak with anger issues.”
“Right. How tall is she?”
“Five-foot, nine inches,” Landon said.
“Do we think she’s in cohorts with Aiden?” Zach asked.
“That doesn’t make much sense,” Lloyd said. “Why would Aiden try to break into Princess’ apartment if he could’ve had Georgina do it?”
Landon shook his head. “As I looked deeper into the behaviors of both the stalker and Aiden, the idea of coordinated stalking seemed increasingly unlikely. Consider the things we know Aiden actually did - he stalked Princess on social media, he called Yvette to ask if she was at home, and only then did he try breaking into her apartment. Those are cautious, non-confrontational behaviors that fit with what we know about Aiden’s personality.”
“The camera matches him too,” Zach said.
“Right. It’s advanced technology, which is his wheelhouse. Everything we can ascribe to Aiden involves indirect contact with Princess.”
“Are you trying to say that Aiden isn’t stalking Princess?” Lloyd demanded.
Landon inclined his head. “I’m just describing his behavior. Let’s look at the actions we know were taken by the stalker. The direct contact events are the near miss hit-and-run at the Emerald Harp, which took place in plain sight of half a dozen security cameras. When they tried to strangle Princess, they avoided being caught on camera coming in, but breaking into your condo association in broad daylight was still pretty bold. Taking a photo of her on the bench with Vivian and leaving it on her car was also a risk. There’s security cameras in that parking lot, but they weren’t working.”
“The text messages were passive,” Zach said.
“But the phone call wasn’t - that was direct contact. You and Princess flew to Singapore on Saturday, right?” Landon asked Lloyd.
“Yeah.”
“Her phone’s connection issues blur the timeline, but… I’m betting the stalker timed the first volley of messages to come in exactly twenty-four hours after their phone call. Since you were flying across the Pacific Ocean at the time, it’s just a theory, we don’t know for sure. But the point I’m getting at is that these indirect actions are geared towards communicating with Princess directly, something Aiden hasn’t done.”
“You’re making a case that Aiden isn’t stalking her, aren’t you? What about him breaking into her apartment?” Lloyd demanded.
“I think he’s looking for something and I don’t think the night Jake caught him was his first attempt. Her neighbor reported someone yelling outside Princess’ door, right? Not too long after you ran into Aiden at the restaurant?”
“She did. You think that was Aiden?”
“Probably. I’d also be willing to bet it was Aiden she heard behind her on the trail at her nephew’s birthday party.”
“Why?” Zach asked.
“First, the behavior. Whoever she heard was trying to avoid being seen. The stalker’s phone call on the other hand, that person wanted her full attention. I’d bet a week’s pay that if her stalker had been out there alone with her… well, it would’ve been the same thing you interrupted by the pool.”
“I still don’t get why he’d follow her down the trail, or even to the birthday party,” Zach said.
“Because he’s cautious and if she wouldn’t let him into the apartment, he had to find another way in. He probably watched her for a while to make sure she was staying and when she walked off, he followed her. I think she almost caught him and it scared him off. Aiden’s risk tolerance is pretty low. After two failed attempts to get into her apartment, he needed a new strategy, hence the camera on Mrs. Thompson’s door.”
“The camera stinks of Aiden’s handiwork,” Zach agreed.
“Cautious, indirect, and… it’s not focused on Princess. There’s something about her apartment that he’s interested in. Another thing that lends weight to the theory is that Aiden was fired on the Monday after Princess heard someone on the trail.”
“Did we find out what he was actually fired for?” Lloyd asked.
“Suspicion of espionage. Marco Lattimer has a buddy who works for Aiden’s former employer and when I explained why I was looking into the situation, he cleared it up. Apparently, some data was copied from their internal servers and three employees came under suspicion. They fired all of them and referred the case to the authorities,” Landon said.
Lloyd stiffened, breathing in deeply as he ran a hand over his jaw.
Landon continued. “I think Aiden was trying to search her apartment Friday night so he could get back whatever he stashed at her place and use it to frame one of the others.”
“Damn it, you’re making sense,” Zach grumbled.
“There’s two explanations to consider,” Landon said. “One is that Aiden’s acting independently of the stalker. If he’s trying to recover something he hid at Princess’ apartment, then his behavior makes sense. The other is that he’s manipulated Georgina into harassing Princess, either because he’s angry or to throw suspicion off of himself.”
“Who’s your number one suspect?” Lloyd asked.
"This suspect only makes sense if my theory about the stuff with Aiden being independent of the actual stalking is correct. We can all get behind that idea, right?" Landon waited for their agreement. “My number one suspect is Shun Nguyen.”
“What? That’s impossible," Lloyd objected.
“Yeah, the dates don’t match up,” Zach said.
“That’s what I thought at first, but hear me out. He matches the psychological features of the stalker perfectly. He’s unbalanced, possessive, and has a long history of anger management issues.”
“Still doesn’t explain how he started stalking her without knowing her name,” Zach said.
“He’d known her name for a week before the phone call. Bishop started making arrangements for Nguyen’s interview during the first week of July. Guess when the stalking kicked off? Eight days later.”
Lloyd frowned, absorbing the information.
Zach rubbed his jaw. “Shit…”
“I was worried about putting her in a room with him,” Lloyd murmured.
“Once he had your names, he could have Googled you,” Landon said. “I think that was when it started.”
“But how did he get her cell phone number?” Zach asked.
“Bishop’s secretary gave Nguyen’s lawyer her office phone number the day after you agreed to do the interview. Princess updated the contact information and made her cell number the primary form of communication on Friday of the same week,” Landon said.
“He could’ve accessed both if he was clever enough,” Zach mused.
Lloyd grunted. “He is clever enough, and the threatening phone happened later that day. But he lives on the other side of the world, he couldn’t have taken the photo in the park or done the hit-and-run, let alone been in my backyard ten days ago.”
“About that… I just got confirmation of this about ten minutes ago, so don’t bite my head off, okay? Nguyen flew to New York on August 3rd and his return ticket wasn’t used.”
“Shit,” Zach hissed. “He’s been in the country for almost a month. How come we didn’t know about this?!”
Lloyd reached for his phone. “Jake’s with Princess now, we need to read him in on this right away.”
As they waited for the call to connect, the room felt smaller, compressed by the weight of tension hanging over it.
“Hey, Jake. Where are you? We need to talk.”
Lloyd’s jaw clenched at the response.
“What happened? Alright. We’re on our way,” he said, grabbing his keys.
“What’s going on?” Landon asked as Lloyd ended the call.
“Princess is in the hospital.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Next - Chapter XXI
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Masterlist
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@yiiiikesmish
@calwitch
@peachiestevie
@texmexdarling
@here4thefanfics
@rogersbarber
@spikeluv84
@dear-fifi
@crayongirl-linz
@bigcreatorwombatdreamer
@andydrysdalerogers
#lloyd hansen x princess#the princess & the lawyer#the princess and the lawyer#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen x you#lloyd hansen x y/n#lloyd hansen fanfic#lloyd hansen fic
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