#the other one protects them with his Life
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Mine
Summary - Cassian always gets a little riled up when he gets to fight for your honor.
Warnings - Blood, smut, focus on reader and Cassian's differences physically, reader is thick because it felt right, oral (female receiving), Cassian going to pound town.
A/N - based on this post and our comments from @loneliestluvr I refuse to apologize for how quickly this became smut.
Being mated to the Lord of Bloodshed was never easy, especially as an illyrian female blessed to have found him before your wings were taken. “Sorry,” you whispered as he flinched. You had got to the cut on his eyebrow, wiping it down as gently as you could.
Cassian was covered in blood. A mix of his own and another male's who had not known you were claimed by the male sitting in front of you. “You okay?” He had his eyes shut as you took care of him, content under the feel of your soft hands.
“You're the one who ended up in a fight with 6 other males and walked away. I should be asking you that.” You gently reset and healed his nose, silently thanking the Mother for such a useful gift.
Everything about you two had been so perfectly planned. The skilled warrior. Loud, personable, quick on his feet. Then you, the talented healer. Intelligent, shy, soft spoken. You were balanced perfectly. A match truly made by the Gods. You continued wiping the blood from him, ensuring he would not have to change the water multiple times once you got him bathed and stepped away before offering him your hand.
It was another contrast between you two and Cassian's absolute favorite. Your soft manicured hands, his rough and calloused ones. He laced your fingers together, pretending to allow you to pull him up at he stood. “I'm fine, baby. You should see the other guys.” He smiled at his own joke, walking into the bathroom of the cabin. “Are you going to undress me too?”
“Absolutely.” You were graceful with buckle, each tie, gently pulling armor and fabric from his body until it sat on the vanity nearby. Habit took over as you folded it all, putting the clothing into baskets to be cleaned before turning back to the god in fae form behind you.
The moan Cassian released as he sunk into the warm water had your thighs clenching. You watched his head fall back as lavender scented steam came from the tub and as his shoulders fell in relaxation. “Can I wash your hair?” He groaned again at the thought, smiling as you sat behind him with the soap. “Need to show you my love and appreciation for protecting me.”
He gave a breathy laugh, shutting his eyes in bliss as you began massaging shampoo into his wavy locks. “I will always protect you, y/n. Always. You are mine.”
“I am,” he growled at your agreement, his need to possess you was high. Illyrians had always been more feral with their bonds, and you absolutely allowed him to enjoy the primal tendencies that came with it. “I will always be yours. In this life and the next.” You began rinsing his hair, ensuring every spec of blood and dirt was out before applying a deep conditioner.
“Lean forward so I can wash your back, Cassian.”
“I don't deserve you,” he was drifting off under your touch, enjoying the feeling of you kneading sore muscles as you lathered his scarred skin with a soft scented soap. “Could you get my wings?”
You leaned in, whispering in his ear. “I planned on getting them once I got you fully cleaned and the water changed.”
“Fuck that,” Cassian forced you over, pulling you in thin night gown and all before ripping it off of you. His lips were on yours and hungry. He was grabbing your hips, loving their plushy feel. “Want you now.”
“Cass, this water is disgusting.”
His head hit the tub with a thud. “Fine. Fine. It's fine.” He was, in fact, not fine. You could feel how hard he was. His length was pressing into your stomach. “I just need you. You know how I get when you take care of me.”
You were washing him again. Cleaning off his chest and face, scrubbing his arms. He was memorized by you by your body. He remembered learning about the Gods of old from Rhysand's mother, and you had to have been crafted by the goddess of love. It was another contrast. His rock-hard body, toned and cut from years of training. Your soft body, curves landing in all the right places, thighs so thick you genuinely worried when you sat on his face.
He lifted you with little effort when he knew he was clean, climbing out of the water with his lips attached to the point on your neck that drove you wild. “Done waiting,” he carried you to the bedroom, sucking that spot until he knew a deep purple mark would form.
He threw you down on the bed, not caring that it would soak the sheets and mattress as he watched your full breasts bounce. When he was like this, you knew you were in for a ride. Knew that headboard wouldn't be enough to keep you in place as he pounded into you over and over again, only content when he had ensured you were filled and would smell like him and sex for weeks. He was studying you like you were his prey, waiting to pounce at just the right time.
He found it as you shifted, laying down more on the pillows like the queen he knew you were. He did not bother kissing your lips again. Instead, it was him instantly pulling your legs over his shoulders and licking your already soaked core. Your hands shot to his hair, moans ripping through your throat. He was eager tonight. So damn eager.
“Cassian,” he hummed against you, looking up through hooded lust filled eyes. “Slow down.”
He shook his head, not even letting your clit out of his mouth as he did. “Baby, I'm going to cum if you don't go slower.” His brows shot up and a smirk formed. It spoke of every intention he had, you would not leave this bed, not without him carrying you.
Every flick of his tongue, every long drag, the soft kisses all had you melting further Into the mattress as your nerves came to life. Cassian was as calculated in bed as he was on a battlefield. Everything was precise, done with intention, and meant to fulfill his goal. His forearm went against your hips, locking you in place at his mercy.
He could feel every wave of pleasure from you shooting down that sacred and special bond. He could sense the moment you fell. Your fingers tightened on the sheets, your back arched, it was silence before the scream. Between your own pleasure, you could feel his pride leaking down the bond. Pride with how easily he could pull you apart with nothing more than his tongue. Pride over the way your body was so easily his.
He only pulled away when you began to whimper and push, but he was instantly crashing his lips on yours as he kicked off his pants. His forehead went to yours once you were both breathless. Those Hazel eyes you melted in the gaze of were feral and dark with desire. In one smooth motion with no warning, Cassian was inside of you with one single word, “Mine.”
There was no split second of calm before the storm, no moment to catch your breath after he took it from you. Cassian began to pound into you, hitting that perfect spot and making you see stars. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving small marks to join the littering scars and cuts from his earlier fight. “Mine,” the growl was deep, an ancient part of him almost begging for affirmation of the word.
“Yours,” you moaned out for him, back arching as your stomach tightened. “All yours.” Cassian's arm went across your back, hand roughly gripping your hips he could force you to move exactly how he wanted.
You could hardly breathe, mind lost to anything but Cassian. Your mate. Your everything. You could feel him down the bond, feel him getting closer with each squeeze and twitch of your walls. The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of his groans and you whispering and moaning his name like a prayer to some long forgotten God. “So fucking beautiful,” his free hand forced your head up, forcing you to watch as his cock slid in and out of your core, soaked in your essence. “Watch me fuck you. Watch me mark this pretty perfect pussy as mine.”
You couldn't help but to moan, feeling that edge approaching faster and faster with his. “Cassie.”
“Do it. Cum on my cock, baby.” He let you go limp below him, placing your head back on the pillows gently as he did. Wave after wave of need and pleasure washed over you, blinding your senses to anything but the feel of Cassian filling you as you Came around him. He fucked you through the high before finally finishing, not even bothering to pull out and opting to instead hold your hips so close to his you could not even tell where he began and you ended.
When he finally let you go, he barely caught himself before collapsing on top of you as his exhaustion hit him. You could help but place soft kissed along his face. His scarred brow and lip, his nose that you'd reset and healed so many times, his jaw. You finally sighed with one last lingering kiss directly on his full lips as he smiled. “That was faster than I hoped it would be.”
“Always is when you fuck me after fighting.”
“Always yours.”
He kissed your neck softly on the mark he made, whispering one last time. “Mine.”
General Taglist:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects
#acotar#acotar x reader#cassian acotar#cassian x you#cassian x reader#cassian x y/n#cassian fic#cassian smut#cassian of illyria#lord of bloodshed
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Astrology observations
⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ :⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰ :
I have collected and put some of my notes together to share here with everyone. I hope they’re relatable or you find them interesting.
I have Pluto in the 3rd house and am always fidgeting with my fingers and picking at my lips. It’s a habit that won’t stop help!!!
Virgo risings come off as sweet and naive and you’ll feel the compulsive need to tell them all of your secrets,be warned you don’t want them as your enemy they have Gemini Mc they’ll tarnish your reputation
Virgo rising talk too loudly and they don’t realise it. They have a problem of ghosting people that want to have one on one conversation with them thus being called rude or snobbish
Virgo risings are overly sexualised and it’s usually with random people that they never expected they’ll sleep with. They also can’t make eye contact with people when talking
Had a classmate with Mercury in Aquarius he wrote notes very fast. We liked to copy his notes and he didn’t make grammatical errors
Juno in Aquarius might have a dislike for marriage or traditional relationships.
It’s so often talked about how Pisces are delusional since they’re ruled by Neptune. But, actually Leo is the most delusional since they’re exalted in Neptune. (Tell me I’m wrong.)
Sagittarius moons are always passionate about some cause related to society eg. politics, lgbtq+ etc.
Sun in the 11th house probably don’t like to expose themselves publicly, that’s why they tend to make friends online. (12th house sun can be this way too.)
9th house stellium can indicate not relating to their birthplace or where they were raised.
Saturn in Gemini = your thoughts are holding you back.
Saturn in Leo = your ego is holding you back.
Saturn in Scorpio = your secrets are holding you back.
Mars in Aquarius have explosive tempers, remember that Aquarius is ruled by Uranus, the unstable planet par excellence.
Capricorn’s love language is all but touch. Most of them don’t like much physical contact.
Lilith square sun is a common placement in those people with abusive fathers/deeply wounded ego.
Mars conjuct MC or in the 10th house can experience others being intimidated by them for no reason. And others can get jealous whenever they achieve anything.
Opposite/sister sign ascendants can actually look strikingly similar in terms of physical appearance. (I.e; Capricorn rising and Cancer risings)
Capricorns can repress their emotions because every time they express their emotions they are antagonized. People will find a way to blame them for feeling-someway, somehow. Cancer is in their 7th-house of open enemies.
Aries moons can be very defensive. Any Aries placements seem to be overly self protective.
Lilith in the 2nd house can be an over indulgent placement.
Pisces moons have soft-spoken voices.
Chart ruler in 1st people are so in control of their own lives. I’ve always considered this a “manifestation” placement.
Chiron in the 11th house can have difficulty making friends.
Mercury in the 12th house can easily manifest whatever they speak.
Ruler of the 11th and the 5th house in the 3rd makes for someone who can easily imitate other peoples voices.
Mercury in 1st house say things that are totally out of concept. They tend to talk about themselves a lot too. (Mercury= communication and 1H= self)
Saturn in the 5th house likes historical genres, movies or documentaries.
The first born in the family can often share the same moon sign as one their parents.
Mercury dominant like the English subject and are good at dictations
The color pink has a strong connection to lunar energy. Moon in the 1st house, Cancer rising, or Cancer placements can like a lot of pink.
Gemini moons have some of the best sense of humor. They’re very witty and creative.
Pluto or Uranus in the 4th house can indicate feeling like the “black sheep” of the family.
The house your moon is in can show what area of life is the most unstable or changeable for you.
Moon in Pisces is the most sensitive placement.
I know many Aquarius moons who were all into photography or film at some point in their lives, tech seems to be a hobby of theirs and they are very tech savvy.
Those are all of my observations! please comment on any you related to or are curious about, I’d love to read them. Bye for now.
#art#astro notes#astro observations#astrology#astrology compatibility#astrology notes#astrology observations#astrology signs#birth chart#gaming#kpop aesthetic#kpop#kpop icons#kpop moodboard#kpop smut#bts#horoscope#zodiac signs#zodiac#natal chart#aesthetic#nail art#photography#fyp#lgbtq
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Hello!! Im new to this blog and I really wanna interact ;3
So, I kinda remembering this request....
So I was thinking,
What if the (other) Ancients (and maybe even legendaries) also break/took off pieces of their body to make the desert and gave it to Y/N too?
You can do this if you want of course!! :3 (I hope Tumblr doesn't eat my request AGAIN)
Dessert Report (The Ancient Cookies)
Warning: Cookie Cannibalism
Customer: Pure Vanilla Cookie
Treat Gift: A cake slice dabbled with vanilla frosting.
Result: Portions of hair missing, hat has to be angled to hide the missing parts.
Pure Vanilla entered the cake shop one afternoon after leaving with White Lily Cookie the other day. He talked about seeing White Lily’s gift to Y/N Cookie and thought it was a wonderful idea. Questions raised about his odd hat angled were dodged or given no answer, unusual for the Ancient.
What Y/N Cookie doesn’t know won’t hurt them, right? They would still be close to Pure Vanilla no matter what, right?
Customer: Hollyberry Cookie
Treat Gift: Berry cluster cookies.
Result: Parts of the arms missing, outfit helps to obscure the cracks.
Hollyberry was among the first of the Ancients to give a tasty delight to her very good friend, Y/N Cookie. But just any dessert wouldn’t do for Hollyberry’s liking. It had to mean something, that it truly came from the bottom of her heart. She had an idea…
Y/N Cookie will surely love it…..
They would surely love her….
Customer: Dark Cacao Cookie
Treat Gift: Box of chocolates made from pure cacao.
Result: Missing small extremities such as parts of the hands or legs. Like with Hollyberry, his outfit can cover up the missing portions.
Loyalty, something that is earned and deeply valued to Dark Cacao Cookie. Y/N Cookie’s loyalty to him as an ally means a lot to the king. Dark Cacao Cookie felt like he needed to return the favor to Y/N Cookie, to show how much he valued their relationship.
No length is too great for the sake of those you care about, as he entered the cake shop with the chocolates showed…
Customer: Golden Cheese Cookie
Treat Gift: An array of cheeses with a cheesecake made by Golden Cheese herself.
Result: Portions of the arms and legs missing. Bandages are used to hide the missing parts, excused as just her protecting her dough from getting too stale.
Golden Cheese was never the same after the fall of her kingdom. She held onto anything she held dear, fearing they’ll crumble to dust before her eyes. Y/N Cookie was one major example, she treated them as if she’s known them all her life..and someone she wishes to know for the rest of her life.
She wants to live knowing that a part of her will always remain within Y/N Cookie forever when she floated through that cake shop door…
Customer: White Lily Cookie
Treat Gift: Lily Cobbler.
Result: The loss of the lower arms, part of the waist, and small portions of the head and hair. The cobbler had traces of a powder-like substance emanating from it.
White Lily Cookie cared about Y/N Cookie. She cared about them very much. She feels like they understand her more the average cookie, it’s no surprise why she’ll often seek their company. When she spotted them enjoying a gifted treat one day, she had a wonderful idea on how she wanted to express her feelings to them.
It was quite the extensive process, but she was able to complete her gift. The loss of her parts can grow back, it would all be worth it when Y/N Cookie enjoyed the cobbler, with White Lily knowing that a part of her will always be with Y/N Cookie.
White Lily went further than Golden Cheese though. More than just physical pieces of dessert that will eventually disappear in time. White Lily placed a little more thought into her treat…
Life Powder, what makes up a cookie’s soul…
A part of her will always be with Y/N Cookie…
#brittle answers#cookie run x you#cookie run x reader#cr x reader#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#crk x reader#cookie run kingdom x reader#cr kingdom#yandere crk x reader#yandere cookie run kingdom x reader#hollyberry cookie x reader#dark cacao cookie x reader#pure vanilla cookie x reader#golden cheese cookie x reader#white lily cookie x reader#cannibalism cw#tw cannibalism
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Hi I dunno if you’re taking requests but if you are do you think you could do a smut one shot where either Charles or Carlos is always like super cocky and confident in public and the reader finds it funny because she always has him whimpering and whining for her in private? Maybe like a bit of a dumbification kink too? Thank youuu
BRAVADO | CS55
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (she/her)
Warnings: Smut, fluff, unprotected sex, dumification kink
Author's Note: Yes, please send in your requests! I might take a few days to write it, but I will try to do it justice - I hope you like it anon! I haven't written anything for a dumification kink, so I tried my best here.
Masterlist
Carlos's public bravado could fill a room, his confidence radiated like a beacon wherever he went. With a swagger in his step and a smirk on his lips, he commanded attention effortlessly. His words dripped with self-assurance, and his demeanour exuded an air of invincibility. To the outside world, he was the epitome of cool, a picture of unshakable confidence.
When she was with him, Carlos's bravado seemed to reach new heights, as if her presence ignited a fire within him that fueled his confidence to soar even higher. In her company, he appeared even more self-assured, his swagger more pronounced, and his demeanour more assertive.
It was as though being around her amplified his sense of power and invincibility, emboldening him to push the boundaries of his bravado to the extreme. With her by his side, he revelled in the attention, basking in the admiration that her presence seemed to command. With her radiant beauty and magnetic presence, she effortlessly commanded attention wherever she went. Her grace and allure were undeniable, drawing eyes to her like moths to a flame. And when she stood by Carlos's side, his chest swelled with pride, basking in the glow of her admiration.
He loved the way heads turned when they entered a room together, the whispers and stares that followed in their wake. It was as if her beauty cast a spotlight on him, elevating his own presence in the eyes of others.
As they arrived at the Chinese Grand Prix, the pair strolled hand-in-hand, their presence commanding attention from the moment they stepped foot onto the bustling scene. The cameras surrounded them almost immediately, eager to capture every moment of their presence at the prestigious event. Reporters clamoured for interviews, fans reached out for autographs, and photographers vied for the perfect shot, all vying to capture the essence of their undeniable chemistry and charm.
Yet, amidst the chaos, Carlos remained unfazed, his hand firmly clasped in hers as they navigated the sea of attention together. For him, there was no greater thrill than sharing these moments with the one he loved, basking in the adoration and admiration that surrounded them.
As the press clamoured to ask her questions or get her opinion on his season, his cocky demeanour came to the forefront like a shield protecting the one he held dear. With a sly grin and a twinkle in his eye, he deflected questions and bantered with reporters, his confidence unwavering even in the face of scrutiny.
Yet, beneath the surface, his protective instincts kicked into overdrive, a fierce guardian watching over her every move. While he showed her off like nobody's business, he was quick to intervene if he sensed any discomfort or intrusion. His swagger masked a vigilant eye, ready to step in at a moment's notice to ensure her comfort and safety. He may have enjoyed the attention too much at times, but his priority was always her well-being, his protective instincts kicking in instinctively whenever she was in the spotlight.
As they made their way through the bustling paddock, the love of her life exuded an aura of confidence and charm that never failed to captivate her. She couldn't help but chuckle at his swagger, amused by the juxtaposition of his public persona and his private demeanour.
Though she adored seeing him command attention in the paddock and on the racetrack, it was in their private moments that she truly enjoyed his company. Behind closed doors, he transformed into a different man—a man who succumbed to her every whim and desire, his bravado melting away to reveal a vulnerable, obedient side.
She loved the dichotomy of their relationship, the way he projected strength and confidence to the world, yet willingly became her devoted servant in private. It was a dynamic that brought them closer together, a secret bond shared only between them.
Once they were behind the closed doors of his driver's room, the air between them shifted, charged with a mix of anticipation and intimacy. She wasted no time in teasing him gently, her words carrying a hint of playful admonition.
“You better do well today,” she told him, her tone laced with a mixture of teasing and encouragement. It was a familiar refrain, a gentle reminder of the high expectations that surrounded him on race day.
Carlos's bravado, already softened by their private moment together, melted away completely as he gazed at her. In that moment, there was no need for pretence or posturing—just the raw honesty of their connection.
A knowing look passed between them, an unspoken understanding of the pressures he faced and the support she offered. In her eyes, he found reassurance and strength, a silent promise that no matter the outcome, he would always have her unwavering support.
In the hushed intimacy of their darkened hotel room later that night, the atmosphere crackled with electricity as she straddled him, her movements deliberate and enticing. With a playful glint in her eyes, she pinned his hands above his head, a subtle display of power that sent a thrill coursing through him.
Carlos's breath came in ragged gasps, his body tense with anticipation as she hovered above him, her proximity driving him to the brink of madness. Despite the exhaustion of the day's events, he was acutely aware of every sensation, every touch sending shivers down his spine.
She was intoxicating, her presence filling the room with a heady mix of desire and longing. With each movement, she teased and tantalised, her touch igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.
“Tell me how much you want it, Carlos.” She murmured against the skin of his neck as she hovered over him..
The heat of her breath against him sent a surge of arousal pulsing through him, igniting a fire within that threatened to consume him entirely.
As she ground against him, her movements deliberate and tantalising, Carlos felt himself teetering on the edge of control. The sensation of her grinding over his swollen and throbbing cock was almost too much to bear, each movement sending waves of pleasure cascading through him.
His breath hitched in his throat as he struggled to find his voice, his mind clouded with a haze of desire and longing. He wanted her with a fervour that bordered on obsession, his body aching for release as she teased him with every touch.
He was powerless beneath her, surrendering to her every whim as she drove him to the edge of ecstasy. The weight of the day's challenges faded into insignificance as he lost himself beneath her, their passion burning bright against the backdrop of the night.
“I can't wait much longer, my love,” he confessed, his voice a soft whimper that echoed with raw emotion. “I need to feel you.”
As she shifted her weight onto his throbbing cock, grinding against him with renewed intensity, Carlos's breath hitched in his throat, his body on the precipice of ecstasy. Each movement sent bolts of pleasure coursing through him, driving him to the brink of release with dizzying speed.
But just as he felt himself teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion, she shifted her movements, slowing the pace and denying him the release he so desperately craved. A low groan escaped his lips as frustration mingled with desire, his body yearning for the sweet release that remained agonisingly out of reach.
She had other plans for him, he realised, her teasing touch driving him to the brink of madness with each tantalising movement. It was a game of pleasure and restraint, a dance of desire and denial that left him trembling with need.
“Be good for me, baby.” Her words, soft and imploring, cut through the haze of desire clouding Carlos's mind, momentarily grounding him in the intensity of their shared moment.
Despite the overwhelming urge coursing through his veins, he fought to regain control, to heed her plea and be the good, obedient lover she desired. Carlos found it increasingly difficult to maintain his composure. His body moved instinctively, his hips bucking against hers in a desperate quest for more friction, more sensation.
The need for release burned like a wildfire within him, threatening to consume him whole. With each movement, he felt himself edging closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of his desire.
“Please,” he managed to choke out, his voice a hoarse whisper laden with desperation. “I need..”
“Oh, baby, listen to you losing your words for me,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she continued to tease him.
Carlos's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he realised the effect her teasing had on him. He squirmed beneath her, feeling simultaneously aroused and humiliated by his inability to articulate his desires.
But deep down, a part of him loved the sensation of being rendered speechless by her, finding a strange thrill in the loss of control. There was something undeniably intoxicating about surrendering to her will, about allowing her to dictate his every whim and desire.
As she continued to taunt him with her playful words, he felt himself growing even more aroused, his body responding eagerly to her teasing. With each passing moment, he sank deeper into the deliciously humiliating pleasure of being dominated by her, his mind consumed by thoughts of submission and surrender.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, she decided to end his torture, her fingers curling around the waistband of his boxers. With a swift motion, she pulled them down, exposing his completely hardened cock to the cool air of the room.
Carlos gasped as his arousal was laid bare, his breath catching in his throat at the sudden rush of sensation. He felt exposed and vulnerable, yet exhilarated by the raw display of desire.
As she admired him, her gaze lingering hungrily on his throbbing length, Carlos squirmed beneath her, overcome with a heady mix of embarrassment and arousal. But there was no denying the undeniable thrill that coursed through him at the sight of her, his body responding eagerly to her touch.
With a playful smile, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He shivered at the sensation, his heart pounding with anticipation as she teased him mercilessly.
She eventually ended her onslaught of torture as she gripped his cock, firm and unyielding. Without hesitation, she sank down onto him, impaling herself on his hardness with a gasp of pleasure.
Carlos's breath hitched in his throat as she began to ride him, her movements slow and deliberate, each thrust driving him deeper into the throes of ecstasy. He clung to her desperately, his fingers digging into her hips as he surrendered himself completely to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.
As she rode him with abandon, Carlos felt himself teetering on the edge of oblivion, his senses overwhelmed by the dizzying rush of sensation. He was helpless to resist her, his body a slave to her every whim as she drove him relentlessly towards the brink of release.
And then, with a guttural cry of ecstasy, he finally succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure, his climax crashing over him in a tidal wave of bliss. He pulsed helplessly inside her, his entire being consumed by the intense pleasure of their shared release.
He struggled to find his voice, his mind still clouded with the remnants of ecstasy as he tried to form a coherent response. But no words came, his tongue feeling heavy and uncooperative in his mouth. He could only gasp and moan in response to her taunts, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of their shared release.
She chuckled softly at his inability to respond, her eyes dancing with amusement as she continued to tease him mercilessly. With a playful smirk, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered tauntingly, “Come on, Carlos, where's your voice, my love? Or did I fuck it right out of you?”
Her words sent a shiver of arousal coursing through him once more, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his inability to articulate his desires. Yet, despite the teasing, there was a warmth in her tone that reassured him of her affection, her playful banter a testament to the intimacy they shared.
As she pulled off him and nestled beside him, Carlos felt a rush of tenderness wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they basked in the warm afterglow of their passion.
“You're going to be the death of me, my love,” he whispered softly, his voice filled with a mixture of adoration and playful exasperation.
She chuckled at his words, the sound like music to his ears as she snuggled closer to him. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of her arms, Carlos felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that he was exactly where he belonged.
And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together in a cocoon of love and warmth, Carlos knew with absolute certainty that he would gladly risk it all for the chance to spend eternity by her side.
#carlos sainz#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#formula 1#carlos#ferrari#f1 2024#ferrari f1#formula one#carlos sainz jr#scuderia ferrari#carlos sainz 55#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#cs55#cs55 x reader#cs55 imagine#cs55 fluff#cs55 fic#forza ferrari#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz fanfiction#f1 imagines
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Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 7
pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2k words | warnings: mentions of trauma | masterlist
Your neck is aching when you throw it back and release a loud groan. Your eyes are already burning from staring into books the whole day. Outside Velaris has already entered the night – many hours ago–, but you are still sitting here, your back sore from being bent over the books for hours.
The orange candle on the table, the only light source in the living room of the house of wind at this point, has almost burnt down to nothing, but you need it just a few more minutes.
You are so close, you know it. The solution is right there, you just need to grasp it.
Reaching forward, you place your hand on the onyx box, sharp nails piercing into it. With the index finger of your other hand you trail over some ancient spells written in lettering that is now longer used. The spells are most likely witches runes, you are not familiar with them, but with the help of Nesta and maybe also Amren, you will be able to open the box.
You can feel it. You can feel how the small casket reacts to your touch, to the idea of being opened. It is burning with emotion, so hot your palm heats.
You are so close – so close to opening this damn box. And so close to freedom. You will be allowed to roam freely when this is over, no one will ever lock you away again. Once the box is open you will demand your amulet back. With it your powers will return and then you are gone. To the continent or wherever the wind takes you.
Gone…involuntarily your thoughts wander to the shadowsinger. He is also gone. Has been gone for a few days now. Gone just like back then. When he left you behind, broken and bloody. He did not even check to see if you are alright. If your wounds are too deep. If you will survive.
Rhysand’s words hollow in your mind, loud, strong, and you force your eyes closed, fighting against the tears.
“My father…he threatened the other female in Azriel’s life. The only other female he would have given his life for. This was the only way to protect you both.”
All those years, you have wondered what Azriel’s reasons were. Why he betrayed you like this. Why he never came to see you. You don’t know if you will ever be able to forgive him, but what you know is that you want to give him another chance to talk. You want to hear it from him. Everything. Every little thing he has to say. You want him to talk about his mother, about how he locked you in the Prison, the moments after it, the moment when he found out what the Harp was capable of. He owes you all the explanations and you owe him your time to listen.
You shake your head, directing every thought that threatens to stray into Azriel’s direction at matter at hand again – Koschei’s onyx box. You need to open it and you are so close. You flip over to the next page, finding more cryptic lettering. Your eyes are closed when your fingers trail over the words, the runes, the pictures and you feel it. This is it.
Jumping up, the chair scratches over the ground with a loud noise. You need to find Nesta, and you need to find her now. You really hope she is not currently otherwise occupied with a certain general of the Illyrian armies because you really need to talk to her.
Blowing out the candle, you turn swiftly and head for the corridor, running as fast as your feet can take you, your thin, silken gown swishing around your legs. You head up the stairs, towards Nesta and Cassian’s main bedroom, but stop dead in your tracks when your eyes land on him. When his moan of agony pierces through your mind.
The door to his bathroom is open, his bloody chest exposed, large wings draped on the ground, his hands braced on the edges of the sink.
You can’t tear your eyes away and fully on your own accord your feet start to walk, no longer moving you towards Nesta’s room, but to him. You can’t stop yourself, it is like something is pulling you to him. And you know what it is – the tug on your chest. Before his betrayal you had loved the idea of it. Then everything came crashing down, and you hated it. You have been clamping down on the feeling of it for centuries, pushing it away, but now seeing him bloody and wounded –seeing your mate bloody and wounded– fire ignites deep within your soul, the bond once more coming alive inside of you.
“Azriel.” Your voice trembles, heart squeezing at the gaping wounds marring his entire torso, dripping with blood and puss. It looks awful and painful. Your fingers curl towards your palms.
He whips his head into your direction, and with a crooked smile, he says, “It isn’t as bad as it looks.”
“Bullshit,” you answer and step into the bathroom. “You look like you have been attacked by a beast, those wounds are deep. You need a healer to look over them.” When your eyes lifts, they clash with his.
“Don’t act like you care,” he mumbles, holding your gaze.
“You have no right to snap at me, Azriel,” you answer in a stern voice, “not after everything that has happened between us, not after everything you did to me.”
“I am sorry.”
“I know.” You close the door behind you and fully move into the room, reaching for the cloth on the sink that is no longer white, but has no a pinkish colour, stained from all the blood. You clasp it tightly in your hand, and without saying a word, attach the cloth to Azriel’s wounded skin. He sucks in a sharp intake of air, then holds his breath and lets you do your work. “I am ready to talk, Azriel.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his fingers curl around the edge of the sink, scarred knuckles turning white. “I needed time, I needed time to adapt, to understand, to progress, but I am ready to talk now.” You tip your head back and meet his hazel eyes, a flicker of hope within them now that you revealed that you are ready to talk to him.
“Rhysand told me about your mother.”
“His father threatened to execute her. I needed to protect her, but I need you to know that I didn’t choose her over you. I was…torn. I only had a few people in my life that I loved, and risking one’s life for that of another…I only tried to–”
“Keep us both safe. I know this now.” Your hand moves lower, brushing over a wound on his lower belly that disappears behind the pants of his Illyrian leathers.
“I was trying to get you out. I was looking for ways once all threats were gone, but…only when we found the Harp I had a solution on how to do it. I knew how I was going to get you.”
You nod slowly, and put the cloth aside. “Let’s patch you up and then we talk properly, yes?”
It is a big step you are taking, but you know you have to do it. You finally have to talk to him. Your heart is racing both with panic about being so close to the person that has hurt you most in your life, but also with relief that you can finally be near him without feeling like the air to breathe has been stolen from you. He still unnerves you, but now that you have learned more about why he acted like this, talking to him seems easier.
You have to talk to him. For yourself. You need to know everything. Find out what really were his reasons.
“In my room?” Azriel asks in a calm voice.
You nod again and set out to do exactly what you said – patching him up.
───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────
“He showed me what he would do to her. All the cruel things. And all the cruel things he would do to you. He invaded my mind and showed it to me.”
You find yourself nodding again, tears lining your eyes. You sit next to him on the bed, Azriel’s head resting on the pillow, close to your hips, his chest now bandaged, his body covered by the thin bed sheet. “I had no choice.”
You want to tell him that everyone always has a choice, but in this case, this was truly the only way to do it. You have been listening to him for the past hour or even longer, soft moonlight filtering in through the curtain-framed windows. It is the only lightsource, but you don’t need more. You close your eyes, your soul for the first time calm and at ease in his presence. Azriel has been talking the whole time, a rarity you think, because centuries ago when you were together he was always rather calm.
“Did it really hurt you to put me in the Prison?”
You feel the bed shift next to you, and a moment later his scarred digits brush your hand. “What a question…” You can hear how he draws in a deep inhale and his hand closes tightly around yours. “It tore me apart. It felt like someone ripped out my heart, and tore it into pieces. Like my soul lost its life, like it was diminished and I could never ever feel happiness again. All the years, the centuries that passed, where I couldn’t free you, destroyed more parts of my soul.”
You slide down on the pillow, not letting go of his hand, until you are on eye-level with him. His head is turned to you, and he is already looking at you when you open your lids.
“I knew the first moment I could find a way to free you, to get you out, I would do it. You were bound to the Prison by the High Lord’s magic, you couldn’t get out alone, not even if I had tried to. It was only possible through the Harp – the Dead Trove’s magic is stronger than any High Lord’s.”
You deep your chin, nodding slowly, the back of your mouth aching. “I thought you hated me, you loathed and feared me just like everyone else. That our whole relationship was a false-pretence.”
His throat bobs. “I didn’t fake a single thing – every I love you, every kiss, every hug, whenever we made love, I meant it all. And I meant when I said that I would protect you…I never meant to hurt you. To destroy you.”
You shift closer on the bed. “Do you know why your soul hurt after you put me into the Prison?”
“Because I lost the love of my life.” He pushes up on his elbows, groaning due to the wounds on his chest that have not yet healed. He shifts onto his side, now looking directly at you, but you shake your head.
“No, Azriel,” you say, “your soul hurt because we were mates and the bond broke the moment you closed the gates to my cell.”
tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @azrielsmate2 @callmeblaire @lilah-asteria
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love the idea of Tim thinking he’s being put through a ‘test’ of Bruce’s, when in fact it’s a real emergency. So when Tim like saves the whole batfam, he just goes “how did I score” to Bruce, finally making Bruce realize how deep the impact of his testing went in Tim’s brain
If Bruce was finally working at healing and redemption, then this is a great wake-up call for the man. There's a great amount of angst there. He should realize the errors of his ways and maybe acknowledge there's no way to fix the permanent mindset he instilled in a child. However, I don't think Bruce would outright notice anything wrong with Tim's behavior. They've established routines by now. The other kids, though? Their reaction would cue Bruce into how messed up it is.
A bit of a discret version of this would be Tim automatically filling out a mission report. Within the report, he lists his failures and mistakes he made on the mission. This could play out two ways.
One: another kid sees this and scoffs at Tim's perfectionism. It bubbles over into a fight where it reveals how Tim was constantly tested by Bruce with the imminent threat of being forced to quit and banned if he wasn't strong enough. Bruce couldn't stop Tim from being Robin, but he could make his life hell.
Two: Tim writes down the others' mistakes for improvement. This pisses someone off until someone eventually cues into this being an act of protection by Tim. He doesn't want them subjected to Bruce's training if they keep making the same mistakes.
Regardless, they find out how Bruce's constant testing, his trainings, and his treatment of Tim's Robin (and maybe even current treatment of Tim) has really screwed Tim up.
Another way to make this a great miscommunication angst would be Tim, post mission, not treating it with the seriousness it required. Everyone is down at the batcave trying to recover from their wounds and the trauma of what they've witnessed. Then Tim pipes up with a "how did I do, Batman?" Bruce automatically starts listing faults, and Tim just nods. Everyone else is floored because didn't they both just see that horrific shit that went down?
Tim is just high key dissociating to finish up protocol until he can go home and have a 5 hour long mental breakdown. Bruce is just finishing the list of protocols because it's a method of control and coping for him. It's also a habit.
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night we met — ryomen sukuna.
Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.
GENRE: Heian Era to Cursed Womb Arc, 2018;
WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;
masterlist
listen: the night we met by lord huron
note: i finally got a break after two exams. i still have one more. but i wanted to pop in and give this to you before i disappear into my books again. i hope you enjoy this little thing~ i love you~
FATHER THOUGHT THAT THERE WOULD BE MORE NEED FOR RETAINERS TO COME WITH THEM. As they navigated the bustling streets of the city, Ryomen Hiromi couldn't shake off a palpable sense of tension, despite the festive atmosphere. The warm glow of lanterns illuminated the cobblestone paths, and the air was filled with lively chatter and laughter. Yet, an underlying unease lingered—perhaps a whisper from the gods, you mused, familiar with the capricious nature of the divine. Your lips tightened into a straight line, your hand unconsciously drifting to the hilt of your sword. Beneath the surface festivity, an undercurrent of anxiety was palpable.
This might explain why your father had insisted on bringing as many men as possible. The Ryomen family was never short of loyal retainers, and Masaomi had been eager to accompany you. Your father's protective instincts weighed heavily on you, his warnings echoing in your mind. As the sole remaining heir of your distinguished family, his concerns were magnified by the elders’ incessant uproar. Though you understood the necessity of your high profile, it sometimes felt stifling.
As you continued through the lively streets, the festival's atmosphere was electrifying. Lanterns hung from every post, casting dancing lights over the faces of the revelers, each absorbed in their own joyous celebration. The air was thick with the scents of street food and a cacophony of laughter and music, creating a chaotic symphony. Yet, despite the jovial chaos, a tug of unease pulled at your consciousness.
You maintained an even pace and a neutral expression, blending seamlessly into the crowd. The presence of your uncle Hiramu was reassuring; his experienced hand rested nonchalantly on his sword, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance. His readiness to protect offered comfort and a reminder of the ever-present potential for danger.
Ryomen Hiromi experienced the weight of the festival differently. While others were drawn into the spirit of celebration, your senses were heightened, alert to any discord. The subtle narrowing of your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders might go unnoticed by an ordinary onlooker, but they were clear indicators of your tension. The flickering shadows cast by the lantern lights seemed to hide potential threats, and every burst of laughter could be masking whispered conspiracies.
You knew you couldn't afford to let down your guard, not when the stakes were so high. This mission was critical, especially to you, marking a step towards your heir’s role, and the weight of this responsibility was heavy on your shoulders. The festival, with its mask of tradition and celebration, might well be a veneer for more sinister undertones.
Navigating through this sea of faces, your gaze occasionally met those of strangers, your deep hazel eyes searching for any hint of recognition or malice. Being with your uncle Hiramu brought some peace, tempering the anxiety that gnawed at your heart, but the persistent unease remained. Something was amiss, and you could not yet pinpoint it. Your instincts screamed for attention, urging vigilance as the night promised to stretch long.
Reports of strange occurrences and unexplained events had been increasing, stirring unrest among the populace and reaching the ears of Lord Isamu. Typically, such critical missions would fall to your elder brother, Akimu, the designated heir tasked with maintaining the safety and stability of Hida's heartland in your father's stead. But now, with Akimu unable to lead, the weight of responsibility had shifted onto your capable yet burdened shoulders.
Each step felt heavy under the scrutinizing gaze of the moon, illuminating the bustling night with a mocking smile. You took a moment to gather your scattered thoughts, steadying the swirling emotions within. As you lifted your gaze, your eyes began to sharpen, honing in on the play of shadows cast by the lantern light, looking beyond the immediate spectacle to the hidden corners and fleeting movements that might betray underlying threats.
This mission was about more than following in Akimu's footsteps; it was about proving that Ryomen Hiromi could stand firm on uneven, unfamiliar ground. You were determined to command respect, to show that despite your gender, you were every bit the Ryomen heir as any man could be.
As you moved away from the main festivities into quieter, dimly lit parts of the town, Uncle Hiramu finally spoke, his voice low and serious, “Little niece, do you sense it too? There’s a heaviness in the air tonight. It must be what your father was speaking of.”
You nodded, your sharp gaze scanning the shadows. “Yes, I feel it. It's as if the air itself is thick with whispers of the past. There’s a disturbance, not just a vengeful spirit, I think. Something older, deeper.”
Hiramu’s eyes narrowed as he looked ahead. “We should be cautious. These kinds of spirits are often bound to old grudges or unresolved tragedies. The festival’s energy could stir it more than usual.”
You turned into a less crowded alley, where the noise of the festival faded into a distant hum. Your elegant robes brushed against the cobblestones, your attire blending traditional beauty with practicality. The layered silk of your fine kimono was dyed in deep blues and purples, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light, mimicking the night sky. Your obi was tightly cinched, supporting the small dagger hidden within—a necessity for any noble venturing into uncertain situations.
Your father insisted that you dress appropriately. It was outlandish, you supposed. The choices were far too simple for taste, unsuitable for any young beauty of such noble stock. But this was as comfortable as it was safe. Pretense of trade being your desire here in these parts, was much easier than to be quite obvious. Anything more than this would have attracted as much attention as retainers.
“Do you think it’s tied to a particular location or event?” you asked, your voice steady despite the creeping chill that seemed to cling to the edges of the night air. “It’s getting me curious…”
“It could be,” Hiramu replied, his hand never straying far from his sword. “These spiteful little cursed spirits often attach themselves to physical locations where significant emotional events occurred. We’ll need to explore the some sites around here—old battlefields, abandoned shrines, places of great loss or betrayal. Someone is deeply angry, little niece."
Your mind raced, piecing together knowledge with the clues of your current environment. “There’s an old well not far from here, sealed up after a great tragedy struck a hundred years ago during a similar festival. A fire had broken out, and many lives were lost. It was said that the well was cursed thereafter.”
Hiramu’s gaze sharpened, his lips just as sharp when he smiled. “That’s a good place to start. Lead the way, little niece.”
IT HAD TAKEN SOME TIME TO FIND THE CURSED SPIRIT. As the moon ascended, bathing the lively festival in its serene, silver luminescence, you and Uncle Hiramu pressed on with your diligent investigation. The festive air, alive with the thrum of activity and the laughter of revelers, contrasted sharply with your growing tension. Underneath the celestial glow, the reality of your mission slowly began to crystallize, taking on a new urgency as unexpected developments unfolded. It had begun with something ever so simple and from there, unpredictable fate intervened and soon enough, the chaos ensued.
The moment of realization struck you with unsettling suddenness. You patted down the side. There was nothing but panic as you looked to the side of the obi and found nothing. One look was enough to confirm that eager suspicion: the coin purse was missing. You looked up towards Uncle Hiramu. You knew that he was trying not to laugh, but his eyes were too obvious. You smacked your uncle which prompted the laugh to bellow from his belly. All you could do was mope in the silence. You supposed that it was alright. Money was not a big deal. But… your eyes widened.
Without hesitating, your eyes swept across the sea of faces swirling around you. The atmosphere was charged with the festival’s energy, yet your focus was razor-sharp. It was then that you had spotted a distinct splash of color that stood out against the earthy tones of the crowd—a young boy with striking pink hair, weaving through the crowd with the agility and desperation of someone fleeing. You looked at Hiramu, and he nodded back at you.
It was then where your instincts kicked in. You tapped your uncle's arm and started mouthing instructions as subtly as one could towards the fleeing figure. Without needing further explanation, Hiramu caught the urgency and nodded. Hiramu took the other direction as you turned to the other.
As you navigated through the dense crowd, the distance between you and the boy closed gradually, you were certain of it. You could sense Hiramu’s cursed energy with each step below against the wide battered ground. You were certain that you were ever so close to bringing a close to the night. But first, you must unravel the night's mysteries. That boy was the key.
Ryomen Hiramu wasted no time as he dashed from stall to stall, street to street. He could feel it, he could feel it too well. That overwhelming power. His seasoned body kicked into high gear, and he swiftly maneuvered through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the pink-haired boy darting through the festival, speeding through the brunt of human bodies. Hiramu cursed under his breath. The child was too clever. With each step, Hiramu's determination as he ran through a corridor of small houses clamped together—one of the poorest sects of life in the quaint area.
As he closed the gap between them, Hiramu noticed an unusual, dark shimmer around the boy—an ominous aura that seemed almost palpable in the moonlit night. This was no mere act of theft; it was clear there was something far more sinister at play. The aura surrounding the boy twisted and writhed like a living thing, a visual manifestation of deep-seated emotional turmoil. It became apparent that this child was not acting alone; he was bound to a cursed spirit, a malevolent force likely fueled by intense feelings of anger, fear, and loneliness.
The realization struck Hiramu with a harsh chill. The spirit's presence suggested that the boy's actions were not entirely his own, that he was under the influence of these dark energies that fed on negative emotions. Such spirits were known to attach themselves to vulnerable souls, magnifying their darkest thoughts and driving them to act in ways they might not otherwise, turning their inner turmoil into outward chaos. Just as he drew his sword, you turned from the corner. Ryomen Hiromi threw that heavy bound haori away, looking at Hiramu.
“Shibaru One! Binding Fate!” you exclaimed, your voice clear and commanding as streaks of luminous energy surged towards the boy. He let out a sharp cry, writhing against the ethereal chains that now ensnared him under your control.
“Be careful!” Hiramu cautioned, moving closer to assist. “He's the source, he's entwined with that cursed spirit!”
You nodded, your focus undeterred by the boy's struggles as you tightened your grip on the energy that bound him. The spectral chains glowed brighter, each pulse of light strengthening the hold over the chaotic spirit within him. Your uncle's warning echoed in your mind, reinforcing your burning resolve to act with both precision and caution.
The boy’s eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and confusion, met yours. You could see the turmoil swirling within him, the innocent caught in the grip of something far beyond his control. “Hold on, just a little longer,” you murmured, your voice a blend of firmness and reassurance intended to pierce through the haze of his panic. A faint smile blossomed from your lips. “Trust me, okay?”
Hiramu understood the gravity of the situation—they were dealing with a phenomenon that was both a danger to the boy and to all those attending the festival. The cursed spirit needed to be dealt with delicately and decisively, for the safety of the boy and the peace of the community. There were too many people here that would not understand what was going on.
There was no need to make a bigger ruckus. With this understanding, Ryomen Hiramu pressed on, his resolve hardened, knowing that he and you must act swiftly to intervene and dispel the darkness that had taken hold of the young boy.
As Hiramu closed in, the cursed spirit sensed the threat and began to lash out, manifesting as tendrils of dark energy. You, realizing the severity of the situation, knew immediate action was required. "Start the purification ritual!" Hiramu shouted over his shoulder as he dodged a swipe from the spirit. "I'll hold it off! Just go and do your job!”
You crossed the tips of your fingers, your eyes narrowing deeper into the soul of the boy. You began to chant softly, the words of an ancient purification rite falling rhythmically from your lips. The boy looked frightened by all means, as the white light did what it could, purging one dark fabric from the boy one after the other.
The air around you seemed to hum with power as your words wove through the currents of energy emanating from your firm hands. The glowing chains tightened further, and the dark aura around the boy began to dissipate, sucked away into the void created by your spell. But as with all things, it tried to keep alive.
Meanwhile, Hiramu engaged the spirit, his sword movements precise, each strike intended not to harm the boy but to distract the spirit and weaken its hold. The sound of the boy’s screams pierced through over and over again, the cursed spirit overlaying against each agonizing echo. He could see the ritual's glow intensifying, the light beginning to engulf the boy, binding and suppressing the dark energy around him.
With a final, desperate cry, the cursed spirit dissipated, expelled in one painful grip. All of a sudden, your white cursed energy also disappeared. You gasped out loud as your shaking knees fell to the ground, weary from it all. It was the first time you had used that purification technique. But it seemed that it had finally worked. You looked at the empty depth of your palm.
As the ritual reached its climax, your voice rose in a powerful cadence, your tender hands outstretched towards the boy, directing the flow of purified energy. The cursed spirit writhed and howled and fought over and over, its form becoming unstable under the ritual’s influence. Sweat permeated through your sleeves, your teeth gritted, your eyes narrowed, over and over the ringing of each of your ears continued as the boy continued to fight for his life.
Your eyes shined. You had done that. Hiramu looked at you, rushing towards you. But you stopped him, coughing as you regained air. You pointed to the boy, sprawled on the pavement. Hiramu sheathed his sword back. Soon enough, Hiramu could only lift the boy in his arms.
The boy, now freed from the spirit’s grasp, collapsed, exhausted but unharmed. He was perhaps trying to catch his breath. He must have been exhausted. You, having returned to the plane of reality, rushed to his side, your own energy spent. You were certain that there was no bigger word than relief as you eagerly confirmed that he was safe. His eyes were both soft and weary as he looked at that boy. He lifted his head at you.
Hiramu's eyes remained narrowed, the wrinkles at the corners deepening as he surveyed the scene before him. Despite the successful expulsion of the spirit, his instincts told him there was more to uncover. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight that drew your attention immediately. "Something is still not right," he said, his tone heavy with unease.
You nodded, understanding the depth of your uncle's concern. You gently placed your palm on the boy's forehead, feeling the residual heat of the ritual. "He's warm, uncle," you observed as your voice echoed tinged with worry.
"Purification techniques are painful to the body," Hiramu responded, his voice a low hum, soothing yet solemn. "It’s purging the worst of the soul, after all. Still, it must be said. You did well, little niece."
The corners of your mouth twitched into a slight smile, a rare break in your usually stern demeanor. "Such praise is rare, uncle."
Hiramu let out a soft snicker, his usual stern facade momentarily giving way to familial warmth. "I compliment you all the time," he claimed, though his smile betrayed the playfulness of his exaggeration.
"That sounds like a lie, uncle," you retorted, your weary eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection.
"Yeah, yeah," Hiramu dismissed playfully, but his attention quickly returned to the matter at hand as the boy began to stir. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden movement. You had been so focused on your exchange that the boy's awakening caught you momentarily off guard.
"What do you intend to do with this boy, niece?" Hiramu asked, his tone shifting back to the gravity of your situation. His question hung in the air, pressing you for a decision, reminding you of your responsibilities. “You’re the only one who can decide the lad’s fate.”
“Uncle—”
“You are my better, even if I am your elder and uncle.” Hiramu added, watching you become flustered as he watched the young lady shift in her position. “What do you think is right?”
You took a deep breath, your gaze shifting from Hiramu to the boy who was slowly regaining consciousness. You could see the confusion and fear flicker across his young face as he came to grips with his surroundings. He seemed disoriented, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of what had happened to him.
Your voice rang out with a firm resolve, words carrying an air of unwavering determination. You met the older man’s gaze with a steady intensity, your expression betraying no hint of doubt.
"We'll bring him back with us to the manor," you declared, leaving no room for argument. "I'll send word ahead to let them know."
Hiramu's response was laced with a sense of foreboding. "They won't like this," he cautioned, his words heavy with the weight of tradition and expectation. You understood exactly what he meant—the elders, with their adherence to protocol and rigid adherence to tradition, were unlikely to approve of your deviation from established norms. But your determination remained unshaken.
"That is a matter I will handle myself, uncle," you asserted, your voice steady and resolute. You were acutely aware of the potential consequences of defying the elders, but your concern for the boy's well-being outweighed any fear of reprisal. "Do not worry."
Hiramu sighed, a reluctant acknowledgment of your determination. Despite his reservations, he knew better than to stand in your way when your stubborn mind was set to its desires.
"Very well," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. At that moment, he placed his trust in your judgment, knowing that you would do whatever was necessary to ensure the young boy’s safety and well-being, even if it meant challenging the traditions of your elders. “What else?”
“We might stay a day longer, to make sure that this is the only concern.” You retorted back to him, pursing your lips together in a tight line. “I shall head off and see to it that barriers are strengthened. There need not be any more situations like this one.”
“Very well. I’ll go ahead and take him to our inn.”
“Make sure he’s well fed, uncle. And that he’s alright.”
Hiramu snickers. “You act as though I didn’t take care of you or your brother.”
"I’ll check on him when I return. We need to ensure he's truly free of any residual curse," you said tenderly towards the older man.. "We also need to understand who he is. How did he get here at all, past the barriers. And how did he get this powerful. This puzzle requires quite a bit of effort.”
Hiramu nodded in agreement, his face reflecting his approval of your thorough approach. "Very well," he replied, "We should also see if we can help him find his way. No one should be left to wander alone, much so not one who has been through such an ordeal."
You knelt beside the boy, offering a reassuring smile. "Can you tell us your name?" you asked gently, hoping to ease him into conversation.
As the boy's gaze met yours, his initially wide eyes began to soften, a subtle shift that hinted at his growing realization of safety in your presence. Despite this reassurance, he remained silent, a reaction you attributed to the lingering shock and confusion from the events he had endured. Understandingly, you accepted his quiet, knowing well that pushing him to speak before he was ready could only cause further distress.
You addressed him with a gentle, reassuring smile, your tone soft yet imbued with an underlying strength. "Take all the time you need, little boy," you encouraged, your words floating warmly in the cool air, offering him the space and time he might require to recover from his ordeal. Your smile, kind and patient, was meant to communicate that he was under no pressure to reveal anything before he felt comfortable.
Straightening up, you prepared to continue your duties, aware of the responsibilities that still awaited your attention beyond this encounter. You glanced towards your uncle, who had also been through a trying time, his vigilance unyielding as he supported your efforts.
"Get some rest. You too, uncle," you added, acknowledging his fatigue and your appreciation for his steadfast support. "I’ll return with haste."
As you turned to leave, the boy's eyes followed your every move, wide and contemplative. In the quiet aftermath of your promise, his gaze lingered on your retreating figure, a mix of newfound trust and lingering uncertainty playing across his features. His eyes, filled with a depth that spoke of both fear and curiosity, seemed to hold a thousand unasked questions.
As he watched you disappear into the crowd, there was a palpable sense of wonder about whether he could find his voice, not just to speak but to share his thoughts, fears, and perhaps his hidden stories. The boy was silently grappling with the idea of opening up, of letting someone else into his secluded world.
You, aware of his watchful eyes, felt a twinge of responsibility and hope. His silent scrutiny did not go unnoticed, and it reminded you of the delicate task ahead—not just protecting him from external dangers but also nurturing his trust and confidence to the point where he would feel safe to express himself. The boy's quiet contemplation as you walked away hinted at the significant role you would play in his life, potentially being the first to hear his voice when he finally chose to speak.
As you melded with the festivities, the distance between you growing, you carried with you the weight of his unspoken thoughts, hoping that when you returned, the boy would be ready to break his silence, allowing you into his world. Until then, he shuts his eyes. He lets the sleep take him to the nether world, where nightmares still come to follow.
HIROMI THINKS THAT SLEEP WAS ALL THAT WOULD FIX THINGS. Hiromi returned to the heart of the festival, your task of reinforcing the protective barriers around the periphery completed. Your work, involving the meticulous weaving of energy to strengthen the existing magical defenses, had left you sharp and attuned to even the slightest disturbance. The process was arduous, as you needed to locate and neutralize any lingering curses that could threaten the festival's sanctity. Each of these encounters, a dance of skill and arcane prowess, tested not only your abilities but also your mental fortitude and resolve.
The challenges were varied, ranging from minor nuisances that were swiftly dealt with, to more stubborn, malignant energies that demanded all your focus and power to dispel. Yet, you managed each with precision and control, your extensive training and natural aptitude shining through. With every curse you unraveled and every barrier you chose to further fortify. As Akimu ensured the festival grounds remained a safe haven, you would do the same. This land must always be free from the influence of dark forces.
This vigilant defense was crucial, not only to protect the attendees but to maintain the balance of energies within the festival area. Any breach could lead to chaos, potentially unleashing harm on the unsuspecting revelers. Your successful fortification of the area thus served as an invisible shield, one that allowed the festival to continue in joyous celebration without the shadow of malevolent interference.
As the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn, you continued that prideful vigilance, keeping a watchful eye on the worshippers gathered for the festival. Amidst the joyous celebrations, you remained ever alert, scanning the crowd for any signs of disturbance or danger. It was in the stillness of the early morning hours that you noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.
Despite the dim light of dawn, you sensed a presence nearby, a stirring of energy that caught all of your attention. Instinctively, you turned your gaze toward the source and saw the pink-haired boy, his eyes open and alert. You approached him quietly, your movements fluid and deliberate. You could sense that something had changed, that your encounter earlier had left an impression on him. With a gentle smile, you greeted him, your voice soft but reassuring.
"Good morning," you said, your tone warm with genuine concern. "How are you feeling?"
The boy's gaze flickered between curiosity and caution as he studied you, trying to parse the intentions behind your unexpected approach. Despite the swirl of doubt clouding his young mind, there was an undeniable sense of comfort that seemed to emanate from your presence—somewhat a stability in the tumultuous sea of his current experiences. Sensing his hesitation, you understood his reticence; after all, to him, you and uncle Hiramu were nothing more than strangers who had suddenly entered his life under unusual and likely frightening circumstances.
However, you sensed a deeper narrative woven into the fabric of the boy's aura, a story that extended beyond his current fear and confusion. You were determined to unearth the role he played in the festival's strange occurrences, driven by a conviction that his involvement was not merely coincidental. This was uncharted territory, a situation that neither you nor the festival had encountered before. Yet, you believed that new challenges were always opportunities for growth and understanding, reminders that there is always a "first time" for every occurrence in life.
Respecting his silence, you chose not to press him further for answers. You recognized that trust needed to be earned, especially in such delicate circumstances. It was then, in a moment of frailty, that the boy's strength seemed to falter, his body leaning as if he might collapse. Reacting swiftly, you stepped forward, kneeling to catch him, your movements guided by a blend of concern and readiness to support him.
As he rebounded slightly, stabilized by your quick intervention, he blinked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. In that brief exchange of looks, a silent understanding began to form. Your actions spoke louder than any words could have; they conveyed a promise of protection and empathy, laying the groundwork for a trust that might soon allow the boy to share his story and perhaps reveal the mysteries surrounding the events that had drawn you all together.
As you extended your hand toward him, he hesitated momentarily before his eyes blinked in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Observing his uncertainty, you offered him a tender smile, softening your expression to ease his apprehension.
"Are you alright, young one?" you asked, your voice low and soothing, cutting through the noise of the surrounding festivities.
In that moment, the boy found himself unexpectedly captivated by your presence. There was something almost ethereal about you, a radiance that seemed to emanate from within, casting a gentle, enchanting glow in the soft light of the festival’s lanterns—ones which still light up the dark morning glory. Your form appeared haloed by this light, lending you an otherworldly grace that was both comforting and awe-inspiring.
Your eyes, warm and inviting, seemed to draw him in further. They were deep pools of compassion and understanding, reaching out to him across the void of his own confusion and fear. As your eyes met, he felt a profound connection; it was as though you could see into the very depths of his soul, understanding his fears and yearnings without a word spoken.
The world around both of you seemed to pause, creating a bubble of serenity amidst the chaos. To the boy, this wasn’t just a simple meeting; it was a pivotal moment that would redefine his understanding of safety and hope. Even before he knew your name, Hiromi, he saw in you not just a protector or a higher power, but a guiding light, a beacon of hope illuminating his darkened world.
"What's your name?" you inquired gently, noticing his silence but undeterred by it.
When he remained mute, your smile broadened, radiating kindness and patience. "It’s okay if you have no name," you reassured him, your voice a soft anchor in his stormy sea of thoughts.
Upon hearing this, he looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of amazement and relief. Here was someone offering not just help, but a place and a presence in the world.
"I’ll give you one," you promised, a simple offer that nonetheless promised him a new beginning, a sense of identity and belonging that he had long craved. This simple gesture of naming was more than a label; it was a gift of a new life and a fresh start under your protective gaze.
You smile warmly at him, feeling the weight of the moment as you prepare to give him a name—a simple yet profound gift that could anchor him to a new beginning. When you smile at him, he thinks he found heaven. monsters like him do not deserve heaven. Yet the goddess you were, embraced him in the warmth of tender night. Names were important. In the family, it was. Sensing the importance of the choice, you think carefully, choosing a name rich with strength and history. The family histories had such good names to choose from, you think.
"Would the name Ryomen Sukuna suffice for you?" you ask gently, observing his reaction to gauge whether it resonates with him. “Now that you are with us, you will gain two lives. The past and now the future. Will you accept it, little one?”
The boy looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the name. It's clear he is unfamiliar with its origins or meanings, but there is an undeniable flicker of intrigue in his gaze. Ryomen Sukuna, a name that carries echoes of a mystic and power to it. Entirely opposite of what he had known. The boy, now Sukuna, thinks this could imbue him with a sense of might and courage, perhaps reflecting the new path he might choose to follow under your guidance. And then, maybe then, he can serve you. With this new name.
For a moment, he remains silent, contemplating the name, rolling it over in his mind. Then, slowly, a tentative smile begins to form on his lips. It seems to suit him, or at least, he is willing to step into the mantle it could offer.
"Ryomen Sukuna," he repeats softly, testing how the name feels as it comes out of his mouth. His voice is unsure at first, but with each repetition, he seems to grow more comfortable, more accepting of it.
Seeing his acceptance, your smile broadens. "Yes, Ryomen Sukuna," you confirm with a nod, affirming his new identity. "It’s a strong name, one that I believe can help guide you to become whoever you wish to be."
The boy nods, a sense of new identity beginning to settle within him. The name, though ancient, now starts a new chapter in his life, one filled with potential and promise. You extend your hand to him once more, this time as a gesture of warmth. A future worth looking forward to.
"Now, you must be hungry, Sukuna," you suggest warmly, ready to introduce him back into the celebration, not as an orphan lost amidst chaos but as a newly named participant with a protector by his side. “There’s still some stalls open. Some are not yet done with the festival. Do you want something to eat?”
He looks at you for a moment and then tenderly nods. As he takes your hand, his grip is firm, and his initial hesitance seems to wash away with the rising sun. Together, you walk back towards the heart of where the fullness of the festival had been, your steps synchronized. Ryomen Sukuna, newly named and newly empowered, walks beside you, no longer just a passive spectator but a young boy with a nascent but growing sense of belonging and purpose.
Your role as his protector, and now the giver of his name, has created a bond between you, one that promises not only safety but also a future filled with the potential for transformation. As you both step into the bustling festival, the early morning light casts long shadows, yet for Sukuna, illuminated by the glow of the lanterns and buoyed by your supportive presence, the world seems less intimidating.
You had given him a name, securing a place for him in this chaos—a gesture simple yet profound. This act forged a tentative bond, knitting a fragile sense of belonging into his young heart. And now, for the first time, he truly belonged somewhere. On this transformative night, his heart was full of nothing but hope. He had a name—a name that was uniquely his, one his mother had never given him.
As you walked side by side, he looked up at you with eyes shining with admiration. Sukuna adored his new name, not just for its sound or its meaning, but because it was a gift from you. It symbolized a new beginning, a sign of your faith in him. In that simple name, he found a deep sense of identity and purpose. He hoped beyond hope that this newfound connection would last.
Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.
This rebirth was not just about a new name but a whole new existence shaped by the promise of guidance and protection under your watchful care. As the festival carried on around you, with its myriad lights and shadows, Sukuna walked confidently by your side, secure in his new identity and the journey ahead.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x oc#jjk x oc#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x oc#sukuna ryomen x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen x oc#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#sukuna x reader#ryoumen sukuna#sukuna#jjk ryomen#sukuna x you#sukuna jjk#ryoumen sukuna x reader#kayu writes ! ! !
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the kook's girl [rafe cameron]
pairing - rafe cameron x kook reader
summary - being the only girl in the kook friend group, you were always taken care of. especially since you and rafe started dating four months ago. safe to say, everyone on the island knew not to mess with you if they valued their life at all. so, when the tourons came to town in the summer, the kook boys always got their bit of fun.
warnings - swearing, fighting, just our fav protective!rafe
"Sarah, it's our song!" She slurred, grabbing onto her best friend's hand, pulling her onto the dance floor.
Rafe and Sarah are never on good terms, but Rafe knows no matter how much he hates his sister, she'll always be his girl's best friend. He's grateful for it sometimes, as annoying as it can be, it's just one more person who cares about her and is always looking out for her when Rafe can't be.
But tonight, as both kook girls are drunk off their asses, Rafe keeps a close eye. He spots John B doing the same from across the club as he sits next to Kiara, still keeping a close eye on his girl, Sarah.
Rafe sits in a booth at the club, nursing a glass of whiskey in his palm. Topper and Kelce sit next to him, talking about things he could not care less about at the moment. For example, the girls on the dance floor they want to take home, golf, etc.
No, Rafe's attention is solely on the girl who lights up the dance floor in her sparkly pink dress which Rafe bought for her just three days prior. Her gold necklace with the letter 'R' hanging from her neck shines brightly as the club lights hit it. Her baby pink kitten heels travel her elegantly across the floor as her arm remains tightly latched onto Sarah's as they dance in tune.
He barely even notices the slight smile etched onto his lips in affection as he takes a slow sip from his glass.
"Yo!"
Rafe's attention is abruptly moved from his girl to his dumbass friends as Topper pulls on his white half-way unbuttoned shirt.
"What?" Rafe spits, rolling his eyes at their antics.
"Tourons, 12 o'clock." Topper warns.
"What the fuck? I think they're looking at Y/n and Sarah, man." Kelce points out, suddenly sitting up straighter as they both snap out of their previous conversations to keep an eye on the situation.
This catches his attention as he clocks the three sun burnt tourists waltzing in wearing khaki shorts, polos, and flip flops. Idiots. He notices one of them point in Y/n's direction as the other's snicker, laughing as they spoke to each other.
Rafe’s eyes dart back to Y/n, oblivious as ever, in her own little world.
"I've almost been waiting to pick a fight," He confesses. "Just wait till they get too close."
The three morons make their way in the direction of Y/n. One particular guy, wearing a blue tropical button up, comes up behind Y/n, tapping her shoulder. Rafe is just close enough to overhear the conversation.
“Hey, I’m Ethan,” he smirks, hungry eyes looking her up and down.
She turns around, her smile slightly fading at his stare. “Um, hi.” She spins back around, grabbing onto Sarah.
“You two are pretty little things, out here by yourselves.” He chuckles, his hand moving to her shoulder.
“You gonna go out there man?” Topper asks, getting anxious for the girls.
“No, just wait. I want a real excuse to kill em’.” Rafe responds, his fists clenching.
Ethan’s grimy hands near Y/n’s neck, his index finger latching onto her gold ‘R’ necklace. “What’s your name, hm? R…?”
“You’re gonna regret that,” Y/n whispers, her eyes meeting Rafe.
Rafe stands, marching over to Ethan. Rafe’s fist latches onto the back of his collar, pulling him back as Y/n’s necklace slips from his grasp. Rafe turns him around, knocking a punch to his jaw, blood spurting from his lips onto Rafe’s face.
Rafe lets go aggressively, the boy falling to the ground forcefully. Rafe smirks, his ringed hand coming up to wipe Ethan’s blood from his jaw. “The ‘R’ stands for Rafe. Her boyfriend.” He states before knocking one more punch to the boy’s cheek.
“I-I’m sorry,” He pathetically whimpers, begging for mercy.
“She clearly had zero fucking interest in you, yet you continued,” He chuckles. Rafe leans down, pulling Ethan’s neck up by his collar. “You better hope your flight out of here is tomorrow morning. If not, watch your back man.”
Topper and Kelce come into view, peering at the man below Rafe, only inciting more fear into the poor tourist. Ethan’s two friends quickly pull him up, scattering out of the club as fast as they can.
Rafe turns to Y/n, his demeanor immediately turning soft, a side of himself only she gets to see. “You okay, baby?” He asks, his eyes scanning over her face for any discomfort.
“I’m okay, just some asshole tourist.” She rolls her eyes, manicured fingers grasping onto her necklace.
His eyes flick down to her hand, she only fidgets with her necklace when she’s uncomfortable or nervous. He feels more rage and anger boil up inside him thinking about how that guy ruined her night of fun with Sarah.
“Wanna go home, baby?” Rafe whispers softly, fingers pushing her hair behind her ears.
She bites her lip in debate, turning toward her friend Sarah. Sarah nods her head, “It’s okay, I’m gonna have John B take me back to his place too, it’s getting late anyway.”
“Yeah, okay, let’s go home. I’ll text you Sarah, we can hang out tomorrow, yeah?” Y/n feels guilty, her and Sarah haven’t gotten to spend as much time together ever since she started dating John B and hanging out with his friends more.
Y/n had nothing against the pogues, she thought the rivalry was stupid and childish. She actually found them quite nice, but she spends every minute with her best friends, Rafe, Topper, and Kelce.
Rafe slings his arm around her shoulder after giving his goodbyes to Topper and Kelce, walking you to his truck. He opens the door for you without a word, buckling you in and shutting the door.
When he gets in on his side, starting the truck, he looks over at his girl at her sad eyes. “What’s wrong, angel?”
She sniffles, “I just miss Sarah. Wanted to hang out with her tonight but those guys ruined it.”
Rafe’s hand slips around her thigh, patting it lovingly. “I know, hon. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure Sarah gets her ass off the cut tomorrow to hang out with you, okay?”
She smiles, her hand finding comfort atop Rafe’s. “I love you.”
“I love you more,” he leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.
#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron#outerbanks rafe#outer banks#obx fic#rafe obx#rafe cameron fluff#protective rafe#rafe x reader
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i missed you {j.hale}
Pairing: Jasper Hale X Fem!reader
Summary: Reader has to stay with Esme when James decides to kill Bella — fortunately he didn’t scented her. Jasper and reader realise they can’t stand staying away from each other.
Warnings: English isn’t my first language, fluff!
I don’t own the pictures, found them on Pinterest, so credits go to their owners!
Esme was gently caressing Y/n’s hair. The human wanted to wait for Jasper, but when she got told that it would perhaps take a while, she fell asleep. Although she didn’t want to miss him coming back, Esme promised her she would wake her up.
Jasper and Y/n had known for a while now. She was the first person to not be afraid of approaching the siblings at school. They were new, and she wanted them to feel welcomed into the school, not like she did when she first arrived. Jessica used to make fun of her, until Rosalie talked to her. Y/n ignored what she said that day, but at least, Jessica left her alone. At first, Jasper thought she was an idiot. Of course, she didn’t know they were vampires, and that she could possibly be harmed. But soon enough, he found himself being calm around her. He didn’t feel her blood, nor feelings, and it was a welcome feeling for him, it was peaceful. After a few encouragements from Rosalie, he went talking to her. And from that moment, they were always together at school. Everybody could tell there was something romantic going between the two, magical, even. Y/n couldn’t believe one second that a boy like Jasper was in love with her. And she was wrong. Terribly wrong. He loved her more than his own life — even if he was dead. He knew that, no matter what, he would always protect her, cherish her, make her smile…
Telling her he, and his family were vampires, was a huge step in their relationship. After that, Y/n asked questions about it, grew closer to him. Jasper fought the opposite would happen.
“Why aren’t you afraid?” he asked her as they were sitting in the forest, observing the sunset. “Why are you staying with me?”
“I am staying with you because we’re friends, and that I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me that.” she declared, braiding a curl of his messy hair. “I don’t want you to feel alone.”
And like she knew he was back, Y/n’s eyes immediately opened. She heard a car’s door slamming. Esme chuckled as she looked at the little human clumsily running to the garage. The door flew open, and the sight of him, she threw herself into his strong arms. If he was surprised, it didn’t last. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, inhaling her comforting scent, and put her down on the floor.
“I missed you.” she murmured into the crook of his neck. Jasper’s hand caressed her hair.
“I missed you too.” he smiled, genuinely feeling welcomed and happy.
#jasper hale x reader#twilight renaissance#twilight#jasper whitlock x reader#jasper cullen x reader#jasper cullen imagine#jasper hale imagine#jasper whitlock hale#jasper whitlock#jasper cullen#jasper hale#jasper#twilight x reader#the twilight saga#fluff
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I've been doing a lot of thinking...and I feel like I need to scream this out somehow even though I'm sure it's been talked about before (and I'm putting it under a readmore because it gets long).
No matter what, in any playthrough you do and any timeline you create.
UNDERTALE is a game about guilt.
You have Toriel, so guiltridden she couldn't protect her own children that she devotes herself to never letting another child leave again. And then they do!! over and over again, that guilt compounds until it's the center of her life and every choice she makes!!
And obviously Asgore, so guiltridden that he couldn't protect his own children from humans that he spends the rest of his days trying to get out and get revenge on them--as if that will stop the voices in his head saying, if you had been out there with them you could have stopped it, you could have stopped those humans from killing your children, and maybe he could have!! Or maybe not!! He'll never know and it eats him from the inside out!
Alphys, oh my sweet summer child this fandom does not deserve you!! Alphys, so guiltridden from her own perceived failures as a scientist that she began to try anything, anything to make the King happy, and it seemed to be working at first, and then it was so everlastingly worse, how can you cause something worse than death?? without even trying??
And it shows up in little ways, silly ways, too! Ways you wouldn't even think about as guilt! Undyne! She feels guilty that she won't let Papyrus join the Royal Guard so she gives him cooking lessons instead! Papyrus feels guilty that he's not in love with you after one date so he'll "keep being your cool friend and act like this never happened!"
SANS MY BOI don't even get me started. His guilt isn't as physically obvious but he made a promise to toriel, he promised her he would keep the human safe, and in timelines where you save everyone he follows you pretty much all throughout the Underground (even if he doesn't do anything to help smh) because he'd feel guilty not doing it, and in timelines where you kill everyone he feels guilty for not stopping you, AND in those SAME timelines he feels guilty for stopping you because it means he's breaking his promise to Toriel to keep you safe I!!! This boy can fit so much cosmic guilt in him!!!!
Asriel! FLOWEY!! Do you ever wonder if he feels guilty about being the one to wake up again? The one to survive, when Chara had to die twice?? He sits at their grave and he will do anything, anything to drown out those thoughts so he befriends and kills and torments and it's all the same and it's all useless!!
And their guilt compounds each others'! Toriel makes Sans make that promise because of her own guilt, which increases his! Asgore's guilt is what pushes Alphys so far past the limits of ethical science, because he increases hers!
And all of this, all of this, ALL OF THIS pales in comparison to you!!!
You!! The player! You return to the Underground after maybe accidentally killing Toriel or a few others because you didn't know, you never wanted to hurt them!! You listen to Flowey and you come back and you save them all!
You! The player!!! You cry at the ending and you'd feel guilty, so guilty about letting them all go, wouldn't you? So you ignore Flowey's pleas to let it alone, and you come back again, you say hello to your dear friends but this time it isn't the same, this time you kill them all because you want to see everything this game has to offer, might as well get your money's worth, the fights are cool, right?? And then you get hit with the most unsatisfying atomic bomb of an ending and the only thing left is your own reflection staring back at you from the black screen of your computer as the horror dawns, what have you done???
YOU!!! The player! You go back again even though there is no Flowey left to tell you to, and you save them all again because I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, nobody deserves what I did to all of you, and it's all good, nobody remembers, and then you get to the end. The game knows what you did!!! It never forgot, and it'll make certain you never forget either!! Guilt!! Guilt, guilt!!! It's baked into the code of this game!!
Anyways tl;dr, maybe it actually did make sense to give this game to the pope
#undertale#unhinged ranting#sans#papyrus#flowey#others#ughgh so mentally unwell over this#like i'm sure other people have said this more eloquently but i am sobbing over this today#and i'm making that everyone else's problem
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The Princess and The Pogue | J. M.
Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader
Summary: Your daughter comes home from school telling you about a local OBX fairytale. It turns out it’s about you and your husband.
Listen to But Daddy I Love Him for full experience
Requested by @idontevenknowbsblog
A/N: This turned out way longer and more angsty than I had anticipated but I’m a sucker for the angst. I just can’t help it. I’m sorry this took me a million years to finish!
As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.
Warnings: allusions to domestic abuse, controlling parents, forced engagement, so much fucking angst, only kinda proofread
Word Count: 3.5k
~
Your daughter’s tiny feet press against the back of your seat as you head home after picking her up from school.
“Mia, stop kicking,” You laugh, “Mommy’s trying to drive.”
“Sorry, Mommy.” Your daughter giggles. “I’m just so happy today!”
“I’m so glad you're happy, Baby.” You smile at the five year old in the rearview mirror. “What did you do at school today?”
“We got to draw all our shapes today and we sang the alphabet song a bunch of times!”
“Ooh sounds like a fun day.”
She claps excitedly. “Oh and Kylie’s older sister told us a fairytale at recess!”
“A fairytale? Very cool. What was it about?”
“Did you know a princess used to live here? A long time ago. She ran away with a pogue because her evil king father wouldn’t let them be together.”
Your eyes widen at her words, a small smile forming on your face as she tells the story that takes you back to what seems like a lifetime ago.
-
“Mom, I’m headed out,” you yelled through the foyer.
“Ok, hun.” Your mom poked her head over the stairwell. “Just don’t stay out too late. We have that business lunch with the Cameron’s tomorrow and it’s very important that you be there.”
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” you promise, “besides I’m just going to hang out with Sarah.”
“We just love that you and Ward Cameron’s daughter are friends. It looks so good for your father’s business for the families to be close. Especially with you set to inherit the company someday.”
With Ward Cameron being the biggest real estate developer in the Outer Banks and your dad owning the biggest construction company, the two men worked closely on most of their deals. They were also the closest thing to friends that either of the men had. The two richest men in the island made for a powerful team.
“Glad I can help you keep up appearances,” you muttered under your breath.
“What was that, hun?”
“Always happy to help the family.” You gave your mother a forced smile and made your escape, slipping outside and into Sarah’s waiting car.
“Ready to go see your man?” She grins at you and you return the gesture.
“God, yes.“
-
You hadn’t expected to fall in love with JJ Maybank. Considering the very different lives the two of you led it was surprising the two of you ever even crossed paths, but that was one of the perks of being Sarah’s friend. When she fell in love with John B and got involved with the pogues she dragged you along with her.
It wasn’t like you had anything against the pogues. In fact, you had admired them from afar your whole life. Their freedom and adventures were something you envied, forever stuck in your kook bubble. You didn’t have a choice but to follow the plan your parents had created for you.
JJ, on the other hand, hated kooks with a passion. He had a hard enough time with Sarah joining the group and when she brought you in, arguably the even bigger kook princess with the even bigger kook king of a father, he vowed to himself he would never accept you. After all, you represented everything he hated, the life he always dreamed of but would never attain.
He would sneer and call you “princess”, his voice dripping with disdain, doing everything in his power to piss you off, but you didn’t mind. You loved his passion and the way he would do anything to protect the people he cared about. You ignored his insults, treating him just as well as you would anyone else.
Before he knew it, your soft words and beaming smile had softened JJ. He began to actually look forward to your presence in the group, feeling sad when you couldn’t get away from your parents to spend time with them. Then, one day the two of you were the only ones to show up to a pogue hang out. You ended up spending hours just talking and getting to know each other. The rest was history and you had been together from that day forward.
Unfortunately, you knew that your parents would never let you spend time around a pogue, let alone be in a relationship with one. So, like Sarah and John B, you and JJ had to keep your relationship hidden. Thanks to the help of the pogues, the two of you had been successfully seeing each other behind your parents’ backs for over a year.
-
“I’ll be back to pick you up at 8:00,” Sarah reminds you. She pulls up to the little cove where you and JJ liked to meet. “We only have a couple of hours tonight because of that lunch tomorrow. Don’t want our families to get suspicious.”
You nod. “Got it. I’ll see you then.” You slip out of her car. “Tell John B I said hi.”
“Will do.”
She pulls away as you make your way around the rocks hiding the entrance to your spot.
“Hi, princess.” Your boyfriend grins at you in the orange light of the sunset, pulling you into a hug.
“JJ,” You breathe him in, soaking up the comfort he gives you. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, baby. Four days without you is four days too much.” JJ leads you over to the blanket on the sand, sitting back so you can settle between his legs.
“I know. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t get away much this week. My parents are going crazy about this lunch tomorrow.”
“Aren’t they always crazy?” JJ jokes, poking your side. You squirm a little bit, trying to escape his prodding.
“I mean, yeah. They’re just extra crazy this week.” You settle further into his chest, JJ giving up his attack in exchange for wrapping his arms securely around you. He nuzzles his head into the side of your neck. “But, it’s okay because at least we have right now.”
“How long do we have until Sarah comes back to pick you up?”
You let out a sigh. “Two hours.”
“That’s it? Damn.”
“I’m sorry, J.” You look back apologetically, but he just shakes his head.
“Hey, don’t apologize. We just have to make the most of the time we have, like usual. It won’t be like this forever.”
“Right.” You give him a small smile, turning back to face the sunset before he can see the doubt in your eyes. You hoped JJ was right, but you had no idea how things would ever change.
As expected, your time together flew by too quickly and before you knew it Sarah was back to take you home.
JJ was reluctant to let you out of his embrace. “We’re still on for tomorrow night, right? After you finish up with all your kook business?”
“Of course, baby. I wouldn’t miss it.” You give him one last goodbye kiss, distracting him long enough to slip out from his arms. He pouts, but lets you go, knowing if it was your choice you would never leave.
-
You stare numbly at the wall, unable to will yourself to move from your position balled up on the bed. You aren’t sure how long you've been laying there looking at nothing. You didn’t feel anything, having cried out all your tears hours ago. A buzzing sounds from the other side of the room, your phone going off once again, but you don’t pick it up. It’s probably Sarah calling again to see if you’re okay after what happened at lunch. You’re not.
Having sat in silence for so long, you jump when you hear a rattling at your window. It takes you a minute to clamber over to the window with the lights out in your room. You hadn’t realized how dark it had become outside.
You peek out warily, trying to determine the source of the noise. “Shit.” You mumble under your breath as you realize JJ is perched in the tree closest to your room.
You unlatch the door so he can climb inside, turning away from him quickly. You’re thankful for the darkness in that moment as you scramble to make yourself look presentable, flattening your hair and wiping at your face. You pull down the sleeves of the massive sweatshirt you’re wearing, one you stole from JJ months ago, making sure you are completely covered.
“JJ, what are you doing here,” you whisper, “What if someone sees you?”
“I was worried about you. You were supposed to meet me hours ago, remember?” He sounds frustrated.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” You run your hand down your face stressed. “I didn’t mean to stand you up.”
“You forgot? Y/N, I’ve been calling and texting for hours.” JJ moves closer, but you step back. “I thought something bad had happened.”
He takes another step back. Again you back away, trying to keep him from seeing your face. Brows furrowed, JJ moves towards you again. This time you can’t move away fast enough, bumping your dresser as you try to get away.
“Woah, wait.” JJ takes your face in gentle hands. “Have you been crying?”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you off that easily.
“Baby, what’s going on? Is it something I did?” The worry in his eyes brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You shake your head, willing them not to fall.
“No, no. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Something with Sarah?” You shake your head again.
“Your parents?” That stills you. “It is your parents. What is it? Did something happen at lunch?”
You don’t answer.
“Talk to me, baby. I can’t make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong.” JJ’s voice is so sincere and his touch so soft. He really thinks he’ll be able to fix whatever the problem is.
You gather your strength and gently pull away from him, not wanting to see the look in his eyes when you tell him.
“My father and Ward Cameron have decided that it is in the best interest of their respective businesses for our families to be officially joined.”
“What on earth does that mean?”
You feel like you're going to be sick, but you force the words out anyway. “I am set to be married to Rafe Cameron.” You keep your eyes on the floor, waiting for JJ’s response. He stays silent.
“I had no idea they had this planned until my parent’s announced it at lunch.”
“What do you mean you’re marrying Rafe Cameron?” He tries to keep his voice calm. But you can hear the venom behind his words anyway. “You can’t just marry Rafe.”
“I don’t have a choice, JJ. They practically signed my ownership papers over to Rafe right there.”
JJ is pacing your room now, hands constantly running through his hair. “He can’t just do that. You’re an adult, Y/N. Tell him no.”
“I can’t tell him no JJ.” He stops in front of you, the look on his face half shock half anger.
“What are you talking about? You can’t just tell me that your father is marrying you off to Rafe and not even try to fight him on it.” You turn from his intense gaze, unable to handle it any longer.
‘Y/N-” JJ reaches for your arm to turn you around and you flinch back hissing in pain. Your sleeve rides up, revealing a number of dark bruises.
“I tried talking him out of it, JJ. He made it clear saying no wasn’t an option.”
JJ seethes, body tense with anger. “He hurt you.” It’s not a question which is just as well because you have no response.
“I’m gonna kill him.” He growls.
You lay your palms flat against his chest. “No, you’re not. We can’t make this situation any worse than it already is.”
“He can’t just get away with this!” JJ’s voice rises with his anger and you shush him quickly, looking back at your door.
“Please, Y/N.” His voice cracks on your name. “Things can’t just end like this.”
The pain in his words breaks your heart. You let the tears fall freely, unable to hold back the emotion any longer.
“I’m so sorry, JJ.” He cradles your face in his hands like he did at the beginning of the night. “There’s nothing either of us can do to change this.” JJ brushes his thumbs against your cheeks, brushing at the tears. “You should go.”
“No, Y/N.” He has tears running down his face too. “I can’t leave you like this.”
“Please, JJ. You have to go before something wakes him up. I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds you here.”
JJ’s eyes flit down to your wrists, taking in the bruises once more before he nods slowly. He won’t be the reason your father hurts you again. You lips press against his slowly, both of you pouring all the love you have for each other into the kiss.
“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.
“I love you, too. Always.”
With those last words, he slips back out your window, closing it quietly behind him. You watch as he climbs back down the tree and crosses the property. As he finally fades out of blue, you sink down to your floor, your knees unable to hold the weight of your body as it’s wracked with sobs.
-
You don’t leave your room for days. All you can do is lay in your bed and cry, mourning the loss of the man you love and the life you had planned.
If it was up to you, you would never leave that room. Unfortunately, your parents have other plans. They parade you and Rafe all over town, making sure everyone on the island knows the two of you are “madly in love” and engaged to be married in the spring. The whole pageantry of it makes you sick.
The cherry on top of the whole ordeal is the engagement party that you parents planned for the weekend. They rented out the whole club and invited every kook on the island. You’re pretty sure it’s your own personal hell.
Sarah pins one last curl to your head. “Done. You look beautiful.”
You give her a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Sarah.” You were dressed in a white sundress that your mother had bought for the party and Sarah had done your hair and makeup to perfection. The whole look was stunning, but you just feel like a trophy being shown off.
Sarah gives you a sympathetic look. “You ready for this?”
“No. But I have to be.”
It takes everything in you to keep a smile pasted on your face as Rafe takes your hand and leads you out to the throng of people. Everyone smiles and hugs you, offering their congratulations. You do your best to seem gracious and excited, but all you feel is emptiness and the faces move before you in a blur.
You make it two hours into the party before you can’t take it any longer. The panic that has been creeping up your throat all night takes hold and you have to break away. You excuse yourself from Rafe, claiming a need to run to the bathroom. He gives you a harsh look and makes you promise to hurry back, but ultimately lets you go.
You hurry away from prying eyes, not letting yourself break until you get inside. Chest heaving, you gulp down air like you’ve just run a marathon. One of your hands is pressed against your chest, the other braced against the walls to hold you up as you stumble towards the bathroom.
Before you can make it more than a few feet an arm catches you around the waist, pulling you into an alcove you had never noticed. You stumble back, trying to pull yourself together, not wanting whoever grabbed you to see your harried state.
“Hey, hey. It’s just me.”
Familiar hands rub up and down your arms, grounding you. You look up to see the blue eyes that you love so much.
“JJ,” you whisper, breaths still coming fast and hard.
“It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.”
JJ holds you close as you will your body to calm, feeling safe for the first time all night.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you, talk to you.”
You sigh, looking at him with sad eyes. “As happy as I am that you’re here, you have to go. If anyone sees you. My father, or Rafe-”
“What if you didn’t have to worry about them anymore?”
“JJ, we’ve been over this. I can’t break this engageme-”
“What if we just left? You and me. Right now.” His eyes bore into yours, willing you to see the possibility.
You can’t act like you haven’t had the same thought yourself, but you just didn’t see how it would be possible. “How would that work, JJ? My father controls my whole life. My money, my future, everything.”
“You don’t need anything he has to give you, Y/N.” His voice is pleading.
“JJ…”
“We can figure it out. You have a degree, I have experience. We’ll get jobs. We’ll make it work.” He reaches a hand into his pocket. “I know I can’t give you a life like this-”
“I don’t want a life like this.”
“-but I will do everything in my power to give you a good life, to make you happy.” He holds up a simple, beautiful band of silver. “Will you marry me?”
You stare up at him with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Say you’ll marry me. We can leave right now. I have a plan to get us off the island. Your parents won’t know until it’s too late. Just say yes, please.”
“Yes, yes.” You nod vigorously. “I’ll marry you.”
You rip off the gaudy ring currently on your hand and JJ replaces it with the silver band. He kisses you so deeply you think you see stars.
“I love you, JJ Maybank,” you whisper when you part.
“I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N, so much.”
You could stay in that moment forever, but you both know you don’t have time to waste. JJ begins to pull you to a side exit, but you stop him. There’s one last thing you have to do before you leave.
You find a piece of paper, scribbling out a few quick words and titling to your father.
Have fun explaining to the Cameron’s that your daughter ran off with a pogue
Y/N Y/L/N
You set the folded paper on the center table, placing Rafe’s ring next to it.
“Ready to get off this island?”
You grab JJ’s hand. “God, yes.”
-
JJ was right, the two of you figured it out. You both found jobs on the mainland and created a happy life for yourselves. You and JJ got married a few months after you ran off and Mia came along a few years later.
You had kept in touch with the pogues of course and they let you know when your father and Ward Cameron’s businesses had come crashing down, forcing the two men off the island. They had no power anymore, so eight years later you decided to move back to your home. People had gossiped at first, but they moved on to the next big thing when they realized that neither you nor JJ cared what they had to say. You wanted to be in the place where you grew up and fell in love, and you wanted Mia to be surrounded by the friends that you called your family.
Mia was just about bouncing in her seat by the time you got home. You hurried to get her out of her carseat so she could rush inside and see her dad. Friday’s were always her favorite because JJ got off work early and was already home by the time you brought her back from school.
She pulled you along by the hand as she continued on about her fairytale. “The evil king disappeared and they lived happily ever after.”
JJ scooped Mia up as the two of you entered the house, making the little girl squeal in delight.
“Daddy!”
“Who lived happily ever after, Mia-mine?” She giggled as he burrowed his face in her little belly.
“The princess and the pogue!”
JJ’s eyes met yours over Mia, giving you an intrigued look.
“Kylie’s older sister told her a fairytale at lunch about a couple that used to live on the island.” You tell him with a knowing grin.
“A fairytale? That’s awesome, baby.” JJ lowers Mia back down to her feet. “Hey, why don’t you go wash up and Mommy and I will make you a snack.”
“Okay, Daddy!” The little girl runs off happily.
You make your way to the kitchen, JJ coming up behind you and snaking his arms around your waist. “So the princess and the pogue, huh?” He smirks as you turn to face him.
“Who knew we’d become an OBX fairytale?” You reply.
“It makes sense. It doesn’t get much more ‘happily ever after’ than this. Right, princess?”
You give him a gentle kiss. “Right, pogue.”
~
Writing Masterlist
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank fic#jj maybank angst#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank x y/n#obx x reader#obx fic#obx fanfiction#obx#outer banks#outer banks x reader#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks fic#stars writes#starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies
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Hiii! Can I request headcanons on what vox would be like as a father of a teen daughter? I feel like he'd be great to gossip with and would tell her to slap any boy that hits on her
Vox absolutely fucking would do this, and he is that type of girl dad to loudly brag that his Princess is cuter than every other father’s! Vox be like: ‘You wish your daughter was as cute as mine’
Vox- Baby Laptop
Vox is extremely doting and loving but extremely protective. Like, he has cameras and drones following you, his fourteen year old human life and demon life daughter, around all the time. You can’t leave the tower without him knowing and he won’t condone you walking around Hell without ALL his bodyguards escorting you
Vox is a bragger. He brags and he flexes what he has so when it comes to you, he is one-upping every known mother and father in the Pride Ring and flaunting his precious babygirl with no hesitation. You’re beautiful and Hell deserves to bask in your presence… according to Vox
Remember, your dad is the technology Overlord. The one in charge of every device in this city, so of course, he is kept to date with everything and he always gives you the latest models his slaves team create. He spoils you since it’s a symbol of his love
Vox is basically your best gossip buddy and no matter how busy he is, he’ll make time to talk to you. Call him, he’ll answer and whilst he works, he’ll listen to you and he remembers it. He has a good open ear and a good sense of ‘fuck you all’ so he’ll get rather into your gossip pieces and consider asking Velvette to spread them through her social media influence
Vox is more than capable of getting sweet, soft and emotive with you. He always proclaims to you, with his whole heart, that he puts you out because he’s proud of you and adores you and he wants you to have everything when back on Earth, he could barely give you anything
Yes. Vox loves you MORE than he likes messing with Valentino so if Valentino dares to hit you, your father is bolting across the room at mach speeds to make his on-and-off boyfriend regret putting his hands on you. You’re his spoiled little princess and nobody touches you! You’re too valuable!
Vox has a picture of you in his wallet and in his suit pocket. So, whilst he is working tirelessly throughout the days and hasn’t seen you in a while. He’ll pick either photograph out and admire it. Both are direct recreations of photographs he owned when both of you were humans
Like Carmilla Carmine with her two daughters, Vox likes to have you occasionally work for him and occasionally means occasionally. Vox only cares that you’re happy so if you want to spend all day everyday in your big fancy room in his tower free of stress, he lets it!
However. Vox, of course, teaches you important life skills. He didn’t get a chance to when both of you were humans on Earth so he is now. Every night, he teaches you to cook recipes, he teaches you to do basic chores, he teaches you how to balance any money you earn
Vox almost views you as the cute babygirl he had back on Earth. The little five year old that was so happy to see him come home after so long of working so hard as a TV salesman in the late 1940s. The little girl who needed him to go to sleep at night, the precious darling who claimed she’d grow up and become a saleswoman too!
Vox does baby you and he doesn’t regret it. He coodles, he snuggles, he baby talks, he coos. He does all of it because he loves you dearly, you’re the single thing that drove him to become a Overlord, you’re the single thing that motivated him to become one of the strongest Overlords in Hell, you’re the single thing that even brought him to work with technology
Vox had always taught you; ‘if a boy or a girl hits on you, slap them’ and that became your norm. You come home, Vox asks what happened and you tell him. He is always happy to hear that you don’t let anybody bother you
The only criticism or advice Vox will take for his products is you so when you say something doesn’t work or needs improvement. He takes it and throws it as his workers so they can fix up what you said. He doesn’t care what his clients think, he cares what his own flesh and blood thinks
Vox loves how you have his TV head and even gets you to wear a matching outfit with him as a cute father-daughter joke. He likes it, it’s adorable. You look like such a badass business lady! He is that type of dad that will embarrass you with how much he loves you
Talking about a father-daughter situation, Vox has the weekends booked all for you. Two father-daughter days out so you two go to the shops, get drinks, gossip more, talk shit about Alastor, go egg the Hazbin Hotel, get some shopping then go to visit the Vees to chat then pick up a movie suggestion to go watch a movie together! Vox loves these days since he is truly himself with you
Vox legit has you in his contacts as the following; ‘My precious darling princess’
“Darling, Princess. It’s time to wake up, we’re going out together! Yes. To the movies and to the shops. I heard that old timey prick is in a Hotel so let’s go egg it once we’re done, ‘kay? Great, I’ll be waiting for you, pumpkin”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel au#hazbin hotel characters#vivziepop hazbin hotel#vivziepop#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel imagines#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel vox x reader#vox x reader#hazbin vox#vox#father vox#hazbin vox x reader#father vox x reader#headcanons#father headcanons#father daughter moments#fluff imagines#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin hotel overlord#overlord vox#teen dad vox#cute fluff#parent headcanons#cute parent stuff#cute imagines
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Rage, rage | two
prologue | one | two | three |
Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC
Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she knows who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.
Warnings: violence, injuries, description of injuries, PTSD, bad language, again The King of Hybern...
A/N: so here it is, the second part. I really hope that you're all liking it. It's starting to settle, our protagonists are meeting and it's getting more interesting!! As always, any kind of support would be greatly appreciated! Thank you all for your time❤️
Nimue stands in the middle of her enormous room: a chamber so deep within her father's castle, it is carved directly into the mountain rock. She doesn't see natural light, hear the ocean waves, or watch birds fly.
Not that she has ever seen them. She simply knows they exist, how they sound, how they smell, because the Cauldron has told her so.
She observes her own reflection in the huge mirror on the wall. The girl she sees is truly beautiful. She possesses an ethereal beauty that seems to emanate from within her, as if she were imbued with the same magic that created her. Her long, silky hair falls in wavy cascades of silver, with flashes of light that seem to dance with every movement. Her eyes are of a hypnotic color, like the whitest of pearls, shining with ancient wisdom and fierce determination. Her skin is pale as the moon, yet it gleams with a radiant glow that seems to illuminate even the darkest night. Her figure is slender and elegant.
The reflection the mirror returns is that of an ancient, wise, powerful being.
However, she only feels like a child, surrounded by things she knows from others' words.
When her father isn't listening, Nimue asks the Palace cooks to recount to her what the world beyond the walls is like. In particular, it's the words of old Ferlan that she enjoys hearing the most: she describes the landscape beyond the cliffs on which the castle stands, the dense enchanted forests, the fertile plains where people live in beautiful villages, the beaches of black sand and cold water, the cliffs where giants were said to have once dwelled...
It's those stories that comfort Nimue's lonely heart, that shed light on her shadow-filled world.
Before she knows it, she's wandered so far in her daydreams that she doesn't even know what time it is.
That's when she feels it in the air, even before hearing it. That sweet scent that accompanies The Voice...
"You have everything in your power to be free, child," it whispers in her ear. The scent, the presence, like a smoke-shaped entity, swirls around her, caressing her cheeks and tucking strands of hair behind her ears. "No one would dare stand in your way. Once you decide, the world will bow to your will. Your father will submit to your will..."
Nimue violently shakes her head. The Voice steps back, but when she becomes still again, it clings to her skin once more.
"But father... what has he done to me?"
The Voice laughs, and Nimue feels like she's going to be sick.
"What has father done to you? You're foolish, child. Foolish. Foolish. Innocent. Foolish," it spits out word after word, and Nimue feels them like daggers.
"Father brought me into the world, father gave me life. I owe everything to father, and he asks me to fight in his name. To protect my people from those who wish us harm."
Nimue clings to her own words like a mantra.
"Father loves me..." she whispers into the air, for The Voice is no longer there with her. She wonders if it was ever really there at all, or if it was just feverish imaginings to soothe her own loneliness.
Father loves her. But she knows he's not a good person. Nimue knows what lies beyond, and she longs to see the sunlight, to see the sea, to feel the rain on her skin...
Nimue knows her father isn't a good person. But neither is she.
She knows she has to kill her father. But where will she find the courage? She only knows these four walls that surround her. What will she do when she kills him? Will the Cauldron be angry with her? What kind of child kills their own father?
She spins, and spins, and spins with the same questions for years. Since the moment she gained enough awareness in her fae body to realize that her "father" wasn't the hero of the story, and she was just another puppet in his conquest game.
The only thing she was sure of was that she wouldn't be the good one either. That she wouldn't let her father win that game.
With light steps, she leaves her room and decides to wander around the castle for a bit. Curiosity is what moves her.
In these past weeks, her father's castle has been filled with various guests of all kinds, a very diverse selection. The legions of the attor, her father's elite soldiers, the highest-ranking officials, there were even two males from Prythian and a few simple humans.
Humans. Nimue had been smelling them for weeks in every corner of the castle. That stale stench that seeped into her pores.
She wondered what reasons the King would have to bring humans into the cleanliness of his castle, but as always, even if she asked, the answer would be the same: politics is not Nimue's concern. Nimue only fights, fights, fights.
However, today the hallways were surprisingly empty. Empty of humans, attor, and even the guards.
Where was everyone?
And it was right at that moment, in that desolate and gloomy hallway, that Nimue noticed the silence.
There were guards all over the castle. Magical guards isolating something, someone. There was something blocking her senses, and no matter how much she extended her magical perception, she couldn't feel the Cauldron.
The Cauldron.
Her heart skipped a beat when she realized she was alone without the presence of the Cauldron. If until then she had felt lonely, she realized it was nothing compared to the pressure she felt in her chest.
What was happening?
She began to run, like a lost child in an enchanted forest.
While she had never seen the Cauldron after she emerged, she had always lived with its constant presence in the castle. She knew it was there, it comforted her, it kept her company. Sometimes she even believed that The Voice she heard was the Cauldron itself, seeking to keep her company.
She kept running, and running, and running, not knowing where to. As she turned a corner, she felt the need to grip the white stone wall so tightly that she felt a nail break.
What was that pain in her chest? By the Mother, she had never experienced an arrow to the heart, but she imagined that's how it must feel. What was happening to her?
As soon as she caught her breath, she continued running somewhere, with that throbbing pain between her ribs.
And she heard it:
My creature, my sweet creature.
She stopped abruptly, all senses alert and panting like a racehorse.
Come, princess. I have gifts for you. Follow my voice, sweet girl.
Nimue almost sobbed. That voice, sweet, like a mother's... The Cauldron was calling her.
She finally saw it clearly: she knew which doors to open, which stairs to climb, which corners to turn. She saw it so clearly that for a moment she was blinded by all that power that the Cauldron emanated.
"I'm coming!" she cried, desperate.
She knew which door it was behind, and when she opened it, the wave of power that greeted her completely stunned her.
And then she began to process her surroundings: in the throne room, there were all the guards, all the creatures that formed her father's court. All surrounding a truly grotesque scene.
Nimue put on the intimidating mask she had practiced so much, while her gaze danced from figure to figure: an Ilyrian (an Ilyrian male, she hadn't seen any!) lying on the floor, its black and powerful wings now nothing more than torn limbs and patches of skin. A little further away, another Ilyrian male (by the Mother, two in one day!), this one with an arrow lodged in his chest and kneeling in a pool of his own blood, next to him a beautiful blonde female with tears streaming down her face.
She kept looking, there was everything in that room. When everyone recognized her presence and turned to look at her, she felt as if time stood still as she advanced, making her way among the guards' armors. With her head held high and her curious gaze, she tried to calm her own nerves and continued observing.
There were humans there, those women her father had once called queens. Queens of what? Also that hateful Jurian, with whom she had coincided a couple of times, enough to decide he was nothing but trash. And two females...
Her gaze returned to the group beyond, where behind the Ilyrian she found a pair of fae, and unwittingly she recognized him, his darkness.
Rhysand.
She frowned and continued walking towards her father, circling the whole scene while feeling all eyes on her, following her graceful movements.
Come, child. And look at the gift, look at it...
And she set her eyes on the Cauldron.
She forgot about that phantom arrow lodged in her chest, and stopped next to her father, her gaze fixed on the Cauldron.
She felt her father's accusatory gaze on her, but putting that aside, he spoke:
"You arrive at the perfect moment, my dear daughter," and after those words, she felt as if everyone in the room breathed again after her untimely interruption.
What the hell was going on there? What was the High Lord Rhysand doing in her castle? Who were those accompanying him?
"You arrive at the perfect moment to witness the miracle of the Cauldron. To witness the demonstration these humans will perform for it..."
Her father continued speaking, but Nimue completely ignored him. She just stood there, next to the King of Hybern, and analyzed the whole situation.
The two fae males who had been hanging around her house for weeks, the blonde and the redhead, bound by her father's magic. Weren't they allies? Why was her father imprisoning them?
A little further away, the two guards holding one of the two human girls began pushing her towards the Cauldron.
She heard screams, pleas, denials from all sides. The King spoke, the human Queens, the fae female next to Rhysand, some of them shouting at each other.
But Nimue only had eyes for the poor human they were pushing towards the Cauldron.
What were they going to…?
And as if she were a feather, they lifted her above the edge of the Cauldron and submerged her in a single motion, plunging her until she lost sight of her.
Nimue felt pure terror. Memories that weren't hers flooded her.
Skin dissolving, bones breaking, desperate screams.
She screamed into the air, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that escaped her chest. Her father stopped her by pulling on the leash, even before she had thought of throwing herself towards the poor girl.
Rage, rage, rage, rage, rage.
Everything that happened afterward was like a blink.
The Cauldron spat the girl onto the flagstones as if she were a fish out of water.
Look, child. I have given you a sister. I have created a sister for you.
Nimue breathed so fast she thought she was going to faint.
The people present were saying things, shouting, crying, laughing.
The other human fought tooth and nail against the guards, her screams piercing Nimue's eardrums, who only let herself be infected by the rage of that poor human.
Her rage. Rage. Rage.
The rage that boiled in every nerve of her being. It bubbled at the tips of her fingers, beneath her skin, in her eyes, everywhere.
If she opened her mouth, she felt like her own rage would burst forth in torrents, like a river after the snows.
Her rage was going to burst out, all over her father.
The second human kept fighting. Nimue never imagined the human spirit could be so untamed.
And the hand of that woman pointing at her father made something change in the air.
Nimue felt her leash loosen, felt her father getting a little nervous.
And she saw the moment.
She saw the weakness in the air, the King's doubt.
And she embraced it.
The second human emerged from the Cauldron, transformed into something.
And Nimue exploded.
A beam of white light burst from her chest, throwing her father backward. The King's head hit one of the columns, and everyone present in the room recoiled at such a wave of power.
What rage. What immense rage. It consumed her inside, burned her. So much, so much rage.
She raised an arm and pointed at her father, feeling how, again, energy rose from her feet to the tips of her fingers. She struck the King again with all that rage.
"You're a monster!" she shouted. She shouted it again and again, while feeling that with every pulse of power she directed towards him, she was gradually breaking down his shields.
However, the King of Hybern laughed, kneeling on the flagstones and trying to regain his composure. A venomous, disgusting laugh that made bile rise in Nimue's mouth.
In a last attempt to take control of the situation, Nimue raised a shield in the center of the room, around the Cauldron. In two agile leaps, she positioned herself next to Rhysand.
"Show me a place," she demanded. Rhysand clung to the brunette female beside him, tears streaming down his face. His gaze jumped from Nimue to the Ilyrian males, from the Ilyrian males to the new fae females, and back to Nimue. "Tell me a place and I'll get you out of here! Quickly, show me!" the princess demanded again.
The guards pounded Nimue's white shield again and again, and behind her, she felt the King of Hybern standing up.
Her gaze met Rhysand's again, and the male, trembling, took Nimue's hand.
"To Velaris," he managed to whisper.
Nimue didn't know how, but as soon as she heard the name, she knew exactly where it was, what it was. She chose whom to take: the two Ilyrian males, the beautiful blonde fae female, the two girls who had been submerged in the Cauldron, the female clinging to Rhysand, and finally Rhysand himself, whose hand Nimue held when she let her magic transport her and everyone else away from there. Away from Hybern. Away from her home.
To Velaris.
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#azriel x oc#azriel imagine#azriel x reader#azriel#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#acotar#rhysand#cassian#azriel x female!reader#azriel x you
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writing dean winchester is like. he’s hideously selfish. he’s the most selfless person in the world. he’s pathetic. he’s strong. he’s completely clueless about his feelings. he feels everything too much. he hates himself. he’s the cockiest son of a bitch you’ll ever meet. he ignores his fear. his fear consumes him. he’s protective. he wants someone to protect him. he’s controlling and possessive. he’s soft-hearted and kind. he wants to bear the weight of the world because it’s the only thing that makes him feel useful. he doesn’t want to feel responsible for everyone and everything. he loves the hunting life. he just wants to be normal. he loves his brother. he hates his brother. he loves his father. he hates his father. he loves his mother. he hates his mother.
and writing sam winchester is like. he’s never fit in anywhere. he just wants to belong. he wants to get away from his family. he doesn’t want to let his family down. he’s full of anger. he’s the gentlest man in the world. he’s never had the ability to choose. he’ll do anything to preserve other people’s ability to choose. he’s a good hunter. he wants to be anything else but a hunter. he’s defiant. he’s complacent. he’s ashamed of the things he’s done. he’s proud of himself for who he is. he doesn’t ever want to kill. he’ll kill anything that threatens someone he loves. he feels suffocated by his brother’s love. his brother’s love is the only true thing he’s ever known. he hates his father. he loves his father.
everything about these characters is a contradiction. how can you not want to eat them alive, absorb them into your blood, and then spend the rest of your life trying to write them into a world where every single one of these things is true at the same time??? i’m absolutely. insane
#screaming crying throwing up#truly TRULY!!!!!! the characters of all time#no one will ever top them#spn#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#wincest#samdean#sam and dean#fanfic
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Dungeon Meshi has fully consumed me, especially a certain tiny union man, and I want to ramble about Chilchuck's traumatic backstory for a bit. Mild manga spoilers under the cut.
The first time I read the manga I missed this bit, since I was reading an online version that didn't have all the extras included. Since I've come across this litte omake, though, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It just explains so much about why Chilchuck is the way he is.
First, at a surface level, it's interesting that this backstory only comes out in the framework of talking about a monster. Chilchuck is offering basically an anecdote about succubi, adding to the conversation he and his party are having about a monster species. It's all very casual and offhand. No one even remarks on what that experience would have meant to Chilchuck on a personal level, and he doesn't dwell on it, either. You have to wonder if Chilchuck would have ever mentioned it at all if they weren't specifically talking about succubi.
But holy heck, just think about this for a moment. On one of Chilchuck's first outings as an adventurer, possibly the first time he joined a party, his fellow adventurers were planning to feed him to a monster. He's only alive now because he had the instinct that something was wrong and had the speed, wisdom, and stealth to run away. He could have died. He could have been murdered. And it's implied that this happens to half-foots frequently in this world.
How traumatizing would that have been for a young adventurer? The people he should have been able to trust to have his back were literally planning his death, all for monetary gain. He was treated as disposable, a resource to be exploited, not a person. Not only is there the trauma of narrowly escaping death here, there's also the trauma of being mistreated and abused by other thinking, intelligent beings.
No freaking wonder he has trust issues. He's been working with Laios and his party for three years at this point and he's never shared a single solitary personal detail about his life, not even his age. He can't bear to allow any vulnerability to show, because he can't allow himself to be taken advantage of again. No wonder he's so prickly and wary. No wonder he's so sensitive to being viewed as anything other than a capable, skilled, fully realized and autonomous adult. No wonder he shies away from affection and any hint of closeness, especially in the early chapters of the manga.
I'm amazed that Chilchuck had the strength and fortitude to stay in the business at all. He considered his options and took steps to keep himself safe, including only accepting pay in advance and starting a union to protect himself and other half-foots. (Another tidbit you don't get at first in the story--Chilchuck is not just a member of a union or the leader, he started the whole dang thing to begin with.)
But what's so lovely, and wonderful, what makes this story take over my brain so completely and utterly, is that Chilchuck doesn't stay this way. Over the course of the manga, he opens up more and more. He allows himself to be emotionally vulnerable; he shares more and more details of his life. He treats Marcille and Izutsumi like daughters, Laios and Senshi like brothers. He loves them and allows himself to be loved in return.
And that's one of many reasons that Dungeon Meshi is one of the best found-family stories I've come across in a long, long time.
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