#Charlize Theron characters

[romancingromanoff]

Second Death

Andromache the Scythian x f!reader

I decided to create a series for Andromache (my beloved). Here’s part 1, part 2, and part 3

Summary: Your first mission does not go according to plan

TW: Violence, major character death, somewhat descriptive gore, getting shot in the face, head explosions (kinda), ANGST

Words: around 3,000

A/N: Aside from being very difficult for me to write, this is probably the darkest I've ever gotten in terms of physical violence. So, uh, Happy Halloween I guess?

The plan was based off Buenos Aires 1822 (not 1922 as you had incorrectly assumed at first) which was a reference you obviously didn’t understand but was being explained to you in the most hectic way possible.

“Wait, so Nicky was decapitated-”

“Half decapitated. I didn’t actually die!”

“But you were quite light-headed for the rest of the day, my dear.” Joe feigned concern, brushing the back of his hand across his partner’s forehead and smiling like a fool.

Your leader was having none of it.

“Can we be serious please?” Immediately, the entire group’s focus shifted back to the Scythian. She certainly wasn’t going to admit it but she was apprehensive with this being your first mission. For months, you’d been doing nothing but training and begging her to let you in on the action until she was finally forced to give in. The instinct to keep you safe gnawed at Andy while it became increasingly difficult to ignore how your desire to prove your worth would only continue to grow. She recognized the same frustrations in a much younger version of herself and remembered how reckless it drove her to be.

“I’d rather we didn’t repeat that portion this time, agreed?”

You all nodded.

They laid out all the details about the traffickers and the group of people you were meant to rescue. It was an estimated 25-40 women and older girls being smuggled through for undoubtedly unpleasant purposes Andy didn’t get too detailed with. She, Joe, and Nico planned to storm the ship when it completely docked and most of the crew was on land retrieving supplies and weapons. That would leave only a few guards standing between them and the captives, who were most likely being held somewhere below deck. Once they find them, you and Booker would bring in the truck to help get everyone out. It sounded simple enough, but the fact that it was meant to go off without a hitch somehow doubled the amount of pressure you were applying to yourself. They had all done this at least once before, so if things went south then it was all because of you.

A few hours passed and you sat next to Booker in the passenger seat of the truck parked a couple of meters away from the ship and near a loading dock. With the engine off it was starting to get increasingly cold, but you didn’t even mind the chill at that point. You needed to be as alert as possible for what was to come.

Booker clearly sensed your apprehension. “It’s okay to be nervous, we’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.” He kept his voice low and his eyes glued on the dock entrance while you tried to do the same. 

Your mind was wrapped up in much bigger concerns. “I’m not worried about that. What if something goes wrong because of me? If I get hurt then so be it, I just don’t want to endanger anyone else when their lives and freedom are at stake.”

“You’ll be fine. Trust your training and lean on your team if you need help. That’s what we’re here for.” He offered you an encouraging smile that you attempted to return the best you could, yet you also wished he wouldn’t look at you with so much sympathy all of the time. As much as you appreciated everything they had done for you, you longed to show the others that you were capable of carrying your own weight and didn’t need someone to hold your hand constantly.

The two of you settled into a silence that was occasionally filled with a comment or two about nothing in particular. It didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You watched as dozens of muscular men left in packs, each one armed with at least a pistol that Booker taught you how to spot. He translated some of the French he could hear them speaking, which was mostly crude, misogynistic banter that made your jaw clench up.

“Good to know that men are pigs in basically all cultures,” you murmured mostly to yourself and tried to get your jaw to relax. Surprisingly, it earned you a gratifying laugh from the Frenchman and you were relieved when he didn’t take your comment too personally. 

“For the most part, I don’t disagree.”

“How will Andy and the others know when all of them have left?” You changed the subject upon the realization that the rest of the guard was hidden somewhere no one would see them, not even you. It was still difficult to imagine they had a better scouting position than the near-direct view you did.

“Don’t worry, they’ll know,” Booker assured you in a slightly amused tone. Some secrets were still too complicated for you to know about yet, you supposed.

Almost a half hour later, three heads eventually peered up through the shadows and Andy, Joe, and Nico lifted themselves up onto the ship. Perfectly lit by hues of the full moon, they danced towards their destination, the sheer coordination and skill reminding you of just how experienced they were. With Andy leading the pack, they silently began making their way up the vessel as a single unit. No words or other body gestures needed to be shared when they occupied the same hive mind. The group only came to a stop when they reached a door and huddled around it, trying to listen for anyone that might be on the other side. When you assumed everything was clear, Andy swiftly kicked it open and entered with her gun aimed and ready. 

Not even a minute after all three filed in, the sound of a gunshot suddenly shook you. You immediately turned to Booker, whose face gave away the slightest look of concern at the noise. This must not have happened in Buenos Aires. No more gunshots followed, thank goodness, but there were sounds of a struggle going on below deck which had the two of you on high alert. You prayed that nobody else close by could hear the commotion.

Things began to steer away from the original plan when Joe emerged from below far before he should have, struggling to keep another figure under control as he held their arms in a twisted position behind their back while continuing to firmly push them forward. Even in the dark, you could just make out how young the kid appeared to be. He couldn’t have been older than 16 and you assumed his reason for being on the ship was because he had an older relative in the crew. You relaxed when you realized that meant how unlikely it was that he’d be trained in how to fight. Joe would definitely keep from harming him unless he absolutely had to. Stupidly, you also forgot about how reckless young boys can be.

Everything fell apart in a mere matter of seconds. As he appeared to calm down, Joe eased up on the grip he held the boy with and he it didn’t seem like he would move at first. But in an instant, the scraggly kid darted from his grasp and sprinted around a corner and out of your line of sight to the completely opposite side of the ship. Booker reached for the door handle as a precaution while the rest of his body remained seated. A bead of sweat rolled down your neck despite the chill in the air and the gradual understanding that Book might be preparing to leave you on your own stilled your body completely. All of the careful planning you had fought to carefully commit to memory melted into mush.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched whistle that rang through the air and your eyes quickly followed a bright red light travel up into the sky before it burst into a large display of lights and smoke. Time seemed to slow down and your heart sped up. Of course, if there wasn’t going to be another pistol going off, it had to be a goddamn flare gun. Yelling, alarmed Frenchmen could then be heard scrambling towards the dock and Booker cursed under his breath.

“Stay here, I’ll go help the others!” Booker leaped out of the vehicle, throwing the keys which hit your petrified figure. Part of you wanted to speak up and stop him but you could only squeak out an indecipherable sound of concern seconds after he was gone. Looking back at the ship, you caught sight of Nico peeking his head out from the door they entered through. He exited with a determined look on his face and was followed by a line of women. You itched at your sweating palms when twenty women or so had piled out and there was still no sign of Andy. 

The men hurrying in from the opposite direction quickly diverted your attention. Squinting your eyes, you were able to spot a figure in the distance headed straight towards your vehicle. You nearly panicked but caught yourself, uncertain if you were dealing with the traffickers or possibly random dock workers that had been alarmed by the flare and merely wanted to check out the situation. Either way, you decided it was still too risky to start up the engine just yet. At least, you told yourself the others probably wouldn’t want you to give away your position.

That’s when you noticed a faint movement in your side mirror. A tuft of matted blonde curls belonging to a distressed woman’s face peeked over the top of one of the crates not to far behind you. She must’ve spotted something concerning, because her eyes went wider than a trapped mouse’s and she disappeared back down, ultimately causing the crates to shake. You ground your back teeth together and prayed it was only you who had seen her. But then right on cue, the blinding glow of a flashlight landed directly over the area where the woman was hiding. The man you had spotted only moments before, his flashlight lit up a devious grin on his face that urged you to hold in your breath. He even sounded like the devil when he spoke. It didn’t take a high level French skills to tell that he began goading the poor woman like it was some sadistic game to him. 

He approached the crates ever so slowly, savoring the anticipation which laid before whatever unspeakable plans he had for his victim. It then occurred to you that she was most likely paralyzed with the same fear that had struck you.

And yet, she was the one currently being hunted while you were poised to sit and watch it unfold. You, protected by both your position and inexplicable gift of immortality. None of it seemed remotely fair and your body began to stir at the simple thought.

“Under no circumstances should you be engaging in combat,” Andy had firmly laid down the law several times leading up to this day. You’d never wanted to disobey anything she said so passionately before and here it felt like you scarcely had no other option but to go against something she forbade. 

The adrenaline rushing through your veins threw your body into action before you could debate any further. Barely aware of the forces taking hold of you, you tumbled out of the door and landed directly behind the attacker who continued to stalk forward towards the woman’s hiding place. He slowly began to raise his gun, something with barrels much longer than your forearms, and it was like you didn’t have the time to properly assess whatever danger lie at the other end. You just didn’t want it pointing at her.

Without a hint of hesitation, you drove foot into the back of the man’s left knee and he immediately crumbled down to about a third of his height. You were ready for him with your knife once his face spun around and an overpowering sense of rage guided your arm to make a clean cut from just below his right eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and finally through the center of his left eye. 

Something solid and heavy smacked the front of your head and you could hear the woman behind you scream in horror before everything went black.

Horrific violence was nothing if not a sheer constant to Andy. She had both experienced and caused enough to fill the oceans with blood, yet nothing made her seethe with rage more than watching yours spill from your head like a geyser. A thousand lifetimes stained with death could not have prepared her for the sight of your limp body hitting the ground, to which there was no question as to whether or not you were dead. Even if you had been wearing some type of protective head gear, a shotgun firing within five inches of your face would have been fatal. 

She was usually a pro at keeping her emotions under control until the mission was completed and never steered away from the plan without first calculating the absolute best course of action. The other teammates she had and the terrified group of women she was meant to protect called upon her to uphold her position as the leader, a task she had shouldered over a million times before despite whatever her personal feelings demanded. Absolutely none of that mattered now. Getting to you, killing that bastard, and wrapping you up in your arms became the only course of action she was capable of taking. 

Her first priority was taking out the son of a bitch that dared to touch you before anyone else got hurt. She handed off the little girl she had been carrying to Nico before barreling over a crate and launching herself over the side of the ship, rolling smoothly to break her fall when she hit the the dock. 

Despite how fast she ran, she seemed to move at a cursedly slow pace. She was still too quick for the man, his blood leaking from the fresh gash you had tore across his face, to notice her. He didn’t even get a chance to run before the warrior drove her labrys straight into the already-open wound. Andy could only revel in the brief taste of satisfaction for a moment before her emotions began swarming once again, the anger she had held for that man was now aimed solely at herself.

“Booker, get her into the back!” She barked at the Frenchman to take care of the hostage still hiding while rushing over to where your body collapsed. Up close, the sight was even more gruesome as blood, flesh, and bone were splattered all across what used to be your face. It would have been generous to call what was left of everything above your neck a simple stump. She knew she needed to get you out of there fast but hated to leave behind any parts of your head that might have been salvageable. Even saving something like an ear or significant chunk of your skull could aid in speeding up the healing process. She knew it would be excruciatingly painful for you to grow back yourself. 

She desperately grabbed at fistful of what she hoped was your brain before scooping you up in her arms. It was the fact that you were so much lighter than usual which made her wince, though she couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved when it meant it allowed her to run faster on her feet. Cautious yet quick, Andy made a beeline for the passenger’s seat of the truck and cradled your body in her arms while you continued to bleed out. It wasn’t a sight she wanted any of the hostages to witness and it’s not like she was letting go of you anytime soon anyway. 

“Drive!” One word was all she needed to command whomever was at the steering wheel to get out of there as fast as possible. It didn’t even occur to her to look up and check to see who she was sitting next to, as she immediately began trying to pick up any movement in your chest or a sign of a pulse in your wrist, anything that indicated the resurrection process was in motion.

“Please, please, come back to me,” she pleaded as your warm blood began to pool across her lap.

“Give her a second.” She realized it was Booker currently driving. “It’s only her second time and will probably take longer than expected.”

The women they had freed were now crammed together once again, only this time being in the back of a dark loading truck as it sped through the dead of night was probably far more merciful than them being forced to witness the transformation you were currently undergoing. Andy, however, couldn’t tear a single string of her attention away from you throughout the entire process. 

Each noise you made followed by the eventual cries of her name from your lips, once your mouth and airways had completely reformed, tore at Andromache deeper and deeper, in ways that no physical pain she had ever endured could compare. She bit down on her tongue till it was bloody as you repetitively squeezed her hand throughout the entire process. The same ones you often used to delicately recreate precious moments on paper broke more than a few of her bones. But Andy barely noticed and didn’t have the capacity to care. All she was focused on was you.

For the first time in centuries, the Scythian invoked the words of an ancient prayer and resurrected a long dead language as she tried to soothe your pain. She stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago but couldn’t shake the truth that repeating those words made her feel anchored to something even larger than her life or her immortality. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t try if it might possibly bring you a sense of comfort, which she actually prayed may happen. 

[multifandommilfs]

Reunions

Relationship: Elaine Markinson x Reader

Summary: After pining for Elaine throughout college, you realise the feelings are mutual in a reunion party after graduation

Word count: 4131 characters

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Who in the right mind would think of hosting a graduation party? It was practically the end of an era, there was nothing else to talk about without building up relationships for it to fall away a year or two later, there was never a time where people actually stayed in contact after years of bustling careers and families, at least that was what your parents told you.

Despite that, you just had to see Elaine one last time, to preserve whatever memory you could of her before you left it up to fate, perhaps only it'll only be a fleeting glance, a recognizing wave that would lead to a false hope of another gathering. "You should call me sometime," someone would eventually say and no action would be taken or perhaps you'll simply never meet altogether.

With that in mind, you still walked past the multicoloured string lit doors, the sharp smell of liquor knocking the life out of you, someone slapped you on the back, hollering something inaudible amongst the blasting rock music, the revolving disco ball threw a glare straight at your eye and someone split foul liquor right on your shirt.

"What the fuck?!" You screamed but only heard of retreating trail of laughter. "Goddamn this-" A drown out call of your name to your right captured your attention, the tone all too familiar and sent a shocking pang to your chest.

You pushed past the dense welcoming crowd of people, the vile odour of teenagers coercing you to hold your breath.

"I heard from Richard that you wouldn't come- oh what happened to you?!" Her eyes raked down your damp t-shirt that was plastered to your skin which you pinched away. "An oscar winning welcome happened." You deadpanned but you were already trailing after her to the bar, your hand clasped in hers in a loose grip, her scent that blew into your face tinged with the sweetness of wine, it was no surprise that she was already tipsy before you could even have a good look at her.

You bumped into her back as she halted abruptly, her hair spilled more wisps of wine into your face than your damp shirt did as she whirled around in the barstool, lips rich in deep red that brought out the dreaded urge of grappling her into a long-awaited kiss right that moment.

"A bottle of red!" Her voice slurred and hauled you out of your reverie, you averted your gaze the bartender. "No can do lady." He gestured briefly to the limited storage of liquor with a curved thumb off his shoulder.

She let out a noise of annoyance, eyes slipping to you, the curl of her lips sent your heat rising up your face. "Give me the strongest icebreaker you have." She said it with a sultry growl, eyes aimed dangerously on you, tongue wetting her lips, extracting a ladened breath from your chest.

In another moment, shot glasses were served up on the counter disgustingly peppered with unknown crumbs and splay of sauces that was pink, green and blue all in different seconds.

You glanced warily at the concoction in contrast to her downing the drink and tsking deliciously with a quick cock of her head. "Drink up, isn't that what you're here for?"

_____

So there you sat, your vision moving a second slower than where you hoped your eyes would land, everything seemed amusing, from the way people were dancing to the way she slurred her words for it was muddled, filtered through the liquor that suffused your complexion a deep red blush.

Then in the next second, you were spinning with the world, there were hands grappling you on the length of a couch, the stench of wine soaking your consciousness, you knew it was her without seeing her, you tasted her lipstick, felt her cold hands dragging up your waist with slight scratch from her nails. You felt as if your skin wanted to tear away from your skeleton and claw into hers as her bitter sweet lips and sharp teeth clashed against yours fervently. She extracted every last breath out of you before you parted.

Each inhalation made you all the more drunk on her, yet the answer to her previous question laid sober in your mind, only to be squished off with another press of her lips, her lipstick fading off layer by layer, embedding along the expanse of neck and smearing right by the corner of your lips.

When you tore away from her, chest heaving with breaths, your senses torn apart with wine and her fragrance, you spoke your mind with a "no," in a complete daze. It was only when she glanced sluggishly at you that you truly unraveled yourself to her. "I wasn't here for the liquor."

It seemed that something formulated in her, blocks and pieces swirling together before you thought you caught a spark of realisation in her eyes, then her lips clashed with yours again, muddling out your thoughts yet it was diffident this time, her touch trembled upon your bare waist, she hid it, securing her grip on you. She couldn't say it, not here, not in the spur of the moment, when her senses were blurred out. Perhaps when the glare of the sun enlightened her on the matter once more, her decision would charge head first into her unrelentingly, to stay or to stay.

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Here's a link to my masterlist ^^

Comment, reblog, drop an ask! Feedback is greatly adored!

[rowanmeierotto]

Fury Road sketch dump

[sersi]

MAD MAX: FURY ROAD (2015) dir. George Miller

[yourbasicqueerie]

When someone try's to flirt with me but I'm staying loyal to my girl (a actress that doesn't know I exist, 36 years older than me, with a husband and 4 kids)

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hi, I love your writing sm! I was wondering if you could do prompt 20 with lesso. Kinda thinking that lesso has a big crush on reader but doesn’t know how to show it. So she acts like a jerk bc she’s so bad at flirting. I just thought the prompt is totally fitting for her!

You Misunderstand Me, Baby ~Lady Lesso xFem Teacher!Reader

Heyyy anon!! Thank you for the request, dear. I greatly appreciate them 🥰 So, here a little Lady Lesso fic to your ask. Hope you Enjoy! 💋🖤

Mommy… Master List

Request & Prompt-List

#20. “Then why are you such a constant asshole?!”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, semi-public sex, fingering, clit stimulation, implied oral, light teasing, fighting, light angry sex, etc.

Enjoy (;

“What’s your problem with me?”

“I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Yes you do.” You insisted.

“No I do not.”

Lesso practically snarled back, stalking towards you and pushing you up against the closed door of your classroom.

“Then why are you such a constant asshole?!” You exclaimed.

Lesso’s eyes widened but she gave no verbal response. Before you could say another word, the red head’s lips were on yours.

You gasped into the kiss, frozen. Lesso grabbed your waist and swiveled you back to your desk. She effectively trapped you in between her and your desk, while your kiss got more and more heated. Her lips warmed you back up, and you happily leaned in further to deepen the kiss.

Once out of breath, you pulled away from the woman.

“What the actual fuck Lesso??” You gasped and chuckled, placing a hand in front of your mouth in shock.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear…” the redhead purred wickedly.

Lesso picked you up and placed you on the edge of your desk with ease. You yelped as her cold fingers ran underneath your trousers and found your underwear line. With a quick snap, your panties broke. And the next thing you felt was the woman’s cold fingertips glazing over your wet folds. Your hips bucked forward into Lesso’s hand desperately.

“Oh fuck—!” You whimpered, “m-more please…!” You immediately pled with the woman.

“Want me to take you right here…?”

“Yes god yes please—”

Lesso smirked coyly at your words of consent and slid two of her fingers knuckle deep into your cunt with ease.

“Oooooooh fuck—!”

You lunged forward and grabbed into the woman’s shoulders with your hands for stability.

“F-ffaster Lesso please…!!”

Lesso happily obliged, fucking you at a newfound and brutal pace. Your hips buckle violently into the red head’s hand. Your mind started to get all fuzzy and cloud over.

“K-keep—oh god—going!” You exclaimed, your mouth hanging open with pleasure.

The whole desk was shaking at the quick paced fucking this woman was giving you. Lesso watched you intently, taking in every little reaction that she pulled from you.

“Put pressure on…shit—on my c-clit…!!” You gasped in desperation, continuing to sloppily rock your hips against Lesso’s hand.

Lesso hummed and placed her ring finger firmly against your clit. You let out an unabashed moan at this action, your hips jolting violently forward.

She continued her direct pursuit of your high, and the red head had you crashing over your climax in record time. You gasped for breath as your walls clenched around her fingers.

Lesso helped you down from your high, afterwards then slowly pulling out of you. She brought her coated fingers up to her lips, licking them clean right in front of you. You gulped. That brought a whole new wave of arousal in between your legs, even while you were still desperately recovering from your last high.

“That clear enough for you…?” She chuckled, still twirling her tongue teasingly around her fingers.

“I—yes!” You breathlessly exclaimed.

Your eyes followed the woman’s tongue in eagerness and need.

“But… maybe you can better explain it still…?”

Lesso smirked at your needy tone. She dropped to her knees and split your legs open with ease.

“With pleasure.” She purred wickedly.

~~~

Lady Lesso Masterlist

[reginamillls]

idk if you're looking to watch something to soothe a recent breakup

but may I suggest The Old Guard (2020)

[spookie-bitch]

Perfect To Me

Pairings: Lady Lesso x Fem!Reader Contains: Comfort, fluff TW: Age gap (legal ofc), perfectionism AN: Requests are open <3

You would've never considered yourself a perfectionist, or even an overachiever. You knew that nothing was perfect and that people made mistakes. Despite this, your subconscious seems to exclude you from said people, and your school work from said nothing.

Staring at the bird pecking in rankings, you’d usually be surprised that you went down a rank. However, today was different. You absolutely flunked the challenge in Professor Castor's class. You were so tired you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but stare in despair.

Your name next to the 2 felt like a punch to the gut. The first to lose. The longer you stared at the rank, the more it sunk in, and the worse you started to feel. Anxiety started to wrack its way through your mind.

“Did everyone know?” “They probably thought I was pathetic.”

You ran your fingers through your messy hair, your hands shaking. The sleepless nights spent studying are shown in your disheveled appearance. You might have normally cared, but right now, you had bigger problems.

As you walk to your dorm room, every hushed voice and whisper felt personal. They were talking about you. They thought you were a failure. You felt like a failure.

Closing the wooden door behind yourself, you feel tears of shame and irritation build in your eyes. You refused to let them fall—crying wouldn't fix it.You leaned your back against the door, sliding down until you were sitting on the cold floor. The room was silent, but your mind was anything but. A million thoughts raced through your head, each one louder than the last.

You buried your face in your hands, trying to steady your breathing. You couldn’t let this break you. You had to get up, keep going, prove that you weren’t a failure.

Pushing yourself up and off the floor, you grab one of the textbooks on your bedside dresser. As you plop down on the bed, you open the textbook to the page marked by your notes. You spend the whole night going over them. Hours tick by and the pages start to blur together into a heap of meaningless words. Despite your best efforts, you can't seem to retain a single thing you've read.

Your eyes grow heavy and begin to burn as the first rays of morning light shine through the window. You hear the soft hum of activity outside your dorm room as the campus starts to wake up. You shut your eyes tightly, rubbing your forehead in a worthless attempt to soothe your oncoming headache.

You get up with a groan, putting your books back into your bag. You change into a fresh pair of clothes, not bothering to brush your hair or really do anything else. You were so drained that you didn't care how disheveled you looked.

“At least now I look how I feel,” you thought to yourself, glancing into the mirror.

A few minutes later, you make your way to your first class of the day, your mood only worsening by the looks cast in your direction. The day only got worse from there, if that was even possible at this point. By your fourth class, you were ready to quit.

“Let them turn me into a tea kettle,” you thought, “at least nobody would expect anything of me.”

You found the corner of the dimly lit hallway, your shoes clicking on the stone of the floor. You did not want to deal with Lesso today. You always felt weird around her and you didn't like it.

Sitting in your seat near the front of the class, you were almost sure she would comment on your appearance. She was blunt, and spoke her mind, but to your surprise, she said nothing. She merely glanced at you, something you couldn't recognize flickering behind her emotionless eyes.

“Probably disgust,” you thought to yourself, your eyes lingering on her for a moment longer.

Five minutes into the lesson you zoned out so hard you could no longer hear the clicking of Lesso’s cane as she paced around the front of the room. What you did hear, was the loud thwack of the cane hitting your desk, pulling you out of your daze.

“Pay attention, Miss y/n,” scolded Lesso, the only noticeable emotion detectable in her voice being mild annoyance. And then she went on with the lesson. You’d expected her to send you to the doom room or something, but you were let off with a gentle scolding.

You zoned out again, wondering why you hadn't gotten in more trouble. Lesso wasn't exactly known to be nice, or even lenient. You were more than sure she saw that you still weren't paying any attention, but she didn't acknowledge it.

You didn't hear when the wolves howled, signaling the start of your trek to your next class, too busy in your own head.

A quiet voice broke through the fog. “Shouldn’t you be heading to your next class?” You looked up, blinking as Professor Lesso stood before you, her gaze sharp yet strangely soft.

“Oh, I’m- I'm sorry professor, I-”

“Are you okay?” She cut your stuttered out sentence off with three words you never thought you'd hear from her lips. You could hear something alien in her voice—concern. It was faint, but it was there. You started to feel weird, her presence starting to fully register.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the question press down on you. Your chest tightened.

“I'm- I'm fine,” You finally said, your voice barely a whisper. It didn't sound believable, not even to your own ears.

“You don’t look fine.” Her tone wasn't harsh, but it was firm. You could tell by the way she said it that she wasn't looking at you, but rather in you. It made your face flush, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable.

“I just…” you started, your voice wavering as you tried to find the right words. “I’m tired. I messed up. She knelt slightly, bringing herself closer to your level, her posture uncharacteristically open.

“You push yourself so hard, y/n. Too hard,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The way she spoke your name made your breath hitch. There was an unexpected protective edge in her tone that made your heart skip a beat.

She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. You found yourself wanting to lean into the touch, but you resisted the urge. Lesso’s thumb grazed your skin, and you could feel your pulse quicken. She was so close, closer than she’d ever been, and you could feel the tension between you, thick and electric.

Her touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as though she was unsure if you’d let her in. The contact was soft, but charged with something unspoken.

“You don't have to be perfect,” she murmured, her thumb tracing gentle patterns along your cheek. You found yourself learning closer, pulled in by the intoxicating blend of strength and gentleness that made you feel both safe and unsteady all at once.

Her breath fanned softly against your skin, your heart pounding.

“Lesso…” you whispered. You weren't exactly sure what you were asking for, but the way she looked at you—like you were something precious and fragile—made you want it more. She didn't respond with words. Instead, she closed the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss.

You melted into her, your hands finding their way to her collar, pulling her closer. With her hand still on your cheek, she cups your jaw and tilts your head back ever so slightly, deepening the kiss. Her touch was gentle and soothing, so much so it brought tears to your eyes.

As Lesso's lips left yours, the warmth of the kiss still lingering on your lips, you felt a tear trickle down your face. Then another, and another. Lesso gently wiped the tears with her thumb, her face softening. With her other hand, she gently grabs your wrist and tenderly tugs you out of your seat, standing up straight.

She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her chest.

“It’s okay,” she whispered into your hair, her voice gentle and reassuring. You let your tears fall, silently sobbing into her chest. After what felt like forever, but you were sure it was no longer than five minutes You sniffled, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“You’re perfect to me,” Lesso whispered, her thumb grazing your cheek again. Her arms tightened around you, as if trying to shield you from everything. “You're enough, sweet girl.”

[cosmicanemoia]

Alone Together

Cipher (Charlize Theron) x reader

SUMMARY

You met a woman. She met you.

First meet. (The Fate of the Furious)

You were hiking, enjoying your time alone, away from everyone. Suddenly, a blonde woman who came from the sky falls right in front of you. You were shocked as hell. You smile at her and scoffed and shake your head sideways, which pique her interest, she removes her parachute, she then ask you "what the hell are you smiling at" as you walk pass her, she grabs you and puts a knife to your throat. You both breathe heavily, you look her in the eye and smile more as you hold your eye contact. You move closer to her face, making the knife cut your skin.

"Is this supposed to scare me? Cause this kind of shit just turns me on. This is the stuff of my fantasy. Tall, gorgeous woman with spacey eyes holding a knife to my throat, heh. If this is a dream, I don't wanna wake up yet. But if you wanna kill me, do it then," you stare in to each other's eyes, you said "I didn't think so," she decided to put the knife down and took a step away from you, she let's her eyes to wander the vastness of the woods, you walk past her and after a couple of steps you look back at her and said "well, aren't you coming?" She looks at you and you nod signaling her to come with you when she finally catches up with you, you said "Not that I'm complaining, you just made one of my dream came true. if you needed help, you could have asked for it." You smiled at her

"What are you doing alone in the middle of nowhere?" She questioned. "What everyone who would go alone in the middle of nowhere do. Be away and alone." You answered and questioned her in turn."What were you doing falling from the sky?" She didn't answer. She just kept trailing behind you as if she didn't hear you say anything, "I see. You don't have to tell me anything." She scoffed and chuckled.

You were actually on your way back to the cabin when she fell in front of you. As you came nearer and nearer to your cabin, she asked, "You're not one of those serial killers or psychopaths are you?" You grinned at her amused by her query. "What? Good one, even if I am, I'm sure you could handle yourself. Everyone's a psychopath, and most just play along with the system," "That is not a no." She commented, and you're just looking towards your destination and continue walking.

"We're here. Make yourself at home." You welcomed her, and she is hesitant but eventually decided to go in the cabin with you. She thought that you were right. She could definitely protect herself from anyone.

You went in and paid her no mind. You just went on your daily routine as if she had been there for a long time. You didn't offer her anything, and you didn't treat her like a guess. You said she could sleep wherever she wants, and she just nods at you, sitting near the fireplace.

Later at night, you make your way to bed and you saw her lying comfortably there, reading something, you said "that's my bed" and she said "you said I could sleep wherever" you look back on your words earlier and you agreed and said "fine" you slip on the little space on the bed and nudge her to move a little to give you more space. "Hey!" she said, "what? You can sleep wherever and I can't? This is a king-sized bed, stay in your corner, and I'll stay in mine." She rolled her eyes at your remarks, gave you some space, put her book down, and went to sleep.

Morning came along and she didn't see you beside her, you already got up, so she gets up and went to look for you, she sees you eating your breakfast outside the cabin just right in front of it. You turn your head and see her. "Sleep well?" You asked, she think about it for a couple of second and she did in fact slept well, the best she had in a long time, but she didn't admit it and simply said "yes"

"I'm going back to reality. You can stay here as long as you want but don't tell anyone about this place. You and I are the only people who know about this place. It will be our precious secret. "

"Wait--" she said. "Oh-- right. There's a motorbike at the back and extra gas, enough to get you to a small town. You'll manage." You informed her. "That's no-- That's - I, uh- thanks," she mumbled and thanked you. "See you when I see you, miss gorgeously strange badass. I hope" you winked at her then walk away.

You gave her your name but she didn't return the favour. Now she thought she should have.

You are hiking to the nearest motel and take your car from there. You have always left it there before you went to the cabin, and then you drive home.

She spent a month at the cabin enjoying the solitude, but after some time, she got bored and got a little creep out by the silence and the old-fashioned place. She needed her techs.

Next meet. (F9)

After a year, you came back to your cabin. You open the door, and as you step a foot inside, someone grabs you and pins you to the wall while holding a knife to your throat.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," she said with heavy breaths, and you could see her smirk.

"Agree to disagree. I hope We don't." You smirk back.

You both stay in position for a hot couple of minutes just staring into each other's eyes, exchanging heavy breaths. As she let you off and pulled away, she scoffed, and you frustratedly scoffed, too.

"Have you left, or have you been here since?"

"Course, I left. What would I do in this dump for a year? I just came back, I've only been here for a month."

She was waiting on you to come back, she figured you come back to the cabin once a year, so she came back a month earlier, after a year of meeting you there, hoping to see you again.

"You've been staying at this dump for a month. Huh." You said, and she replied, "What? It's so old fashioned, there's no Internet and I have to bring my own techs here" you look at her with disappointment written on your face "that's the whole point of all of this" you shake your head unimpressed.

"Is this all of it?" You said as you look at the coffee table with all the technology too advanced for you to understand. She confirmed and you move and took it all and lock all of it in a treasure chest, and throwing the keys amongst the other keys on the drawer near the chest, she couldn't even protest, too baffled by the sight. "What was that for?" She finally spoke. "You'll get them when I leave," you said as you raised your eyebrows up and down at her. "And when is that gonna be?" She asked frustratedly. You look at her with a stoic face, and she gulped, caused by the view in front of her, giving her goosebumps. She's never felt like this before.

You smile a few seconds later and phrase in a seductive voice, "I just got here, and you already want me gone. That's not how you treat your lover who just got home, my love, you know better than that" "That's not what I mean-- I'm not--" she defended but you quickly cut her off "Let's get some fresh air. The air in here is a bit thin. " she rolled her eyes as you walked out.

She searches for the key in the drawer. With no luck she didn't find it, there are a lot of other keys in the drawer. Sighing in defeat, she followed you out and saw you sitting at the front porch. You were looking as far as your eyes would allow you into the woods, she walks over and sat next to you.

There was silence for an awkward moment until you decided to break it, "Do you want to be cuddled?" Her eyes widened, and she scoffed in shock, "What?" She laughs nervously and you repeat yourself "I want to cuddle you, it's so cold here, and I don't wanna go in yet" "then let's make a fire" she offered and you refuse "that would take a lot of work, come here" you stretch your arms out and welcome her in to your embrace but she complains and whined "why do I have to be cuddled when you're the one who's cold, I should be the one cuddling you" she kept protesting.

You stand up, and she looks up at you. You stand behind her and sit down, your arms and legs wrapped around her. "What are you doing?" She asked,"keeping both of us warm, " you answered.

She shakes her body, "get off me," she commanded. Your embrace loosens, and she misses the contact. "Okay," you started to get off of her, but she muttered "fine" You embrace her tightly as the cold air brushes your cheeks.

She could just throw you down if she really wanted to, but there's something about your embrace. It's warmth - that stops her from doing so and instead keeps her wanting more.

Three days you live together, almost like an old married couple, endless bickering, madly flirting (on your part). The domesticity of it all made both of you forget the worlds you live in are burning. But all good things come to an end rather quickly than bad things.

You made a pack for your hike at the nearest motel and got ready to leave after you've eaten breakfast.

"Bye again for now, Ms. GSB" You bid adieu, "I have a name, you know, " She said in response, "No. I don't know." You told her, and she mumbles, "Wha-- That's not what I---" you cut her off, "So. Tell me." "My name is Cipher" she thought you'd ask more question like 'who is named cipher, just cipher' but you pulled her out of her train of thoughts and hugged her tightly "Hi. Cipher, It's been great spending time with you." You pulled out of the hug, but she aches for more, but she knows better than that or so she thought.

As she watches you leave, a wave of longing comes crashing on her already, she went inside and sat down, she sees the treasure box still locked, she'd forgotten about her beloved techs, she smiled to herself. Her mind brought her to look back on the conversation she had with you.

"What are you grinning at?" She asked as she looked at you, already looking at her with a wide grin plastered on your face "Sorry I just can't help it. I think you look like a coconut husk.-- A beautiful and brilliant coconut husk, " you said as you winked at her at the end of your sentence. She slightly blushed. "You're so cheesy." She said and shrugs, trying to brush the blush off.

After a few seconds of admiring her beauty and getting lost in her eyes, you asked her, "You okay? You seem pretty mad or something, but pretty nonetheless" you raises eyebrows up and down at her, trying to lift her spirits up " I swear I will just smack you out of nowhere one of these days" she said sarcastically and literally. "Looking forward to it," you replied with the same tone she just had. She looks at you with disbelief and amusement. Your face turns into a frown when she looks away from you.

"Seriously. How are you?" You requested to know, and she just said,"I'm fine. " "Sure you are. But, are you okay?" You insisted in knowing how she is, she took a deep breath and looks at you affectionately, after a few seconds of staring at you she said "I am now" she smiles at you genuinely. "Fine. Don't tell me." You let it go and you chuckled "I see what you did there, that's good" you complimented her, "learned from the best" she responded, and you both let out a loud and boisterous laugh.

Her flashback ended, and she's smiling ear to ear like a silly teenager. She sighed and said, "I want to be alone with you." Out loud, the person who she wants to heart it, already gone.

Third meet (Fast X)

You came back to your cabin hoping to be welcomed by a gorgeous woman, but there's nobody there when you arrived. You just shrug it off and think 'she has a life of her own', you exhale and find your keys.

After a couple of days of settling in, you're accompanied by hot chocolate and a book in your hand, and then someone knocks at your door rapidly. You rolled your eyes and groaned, frustrated by the disturbance of your peace.

When you open the door, worry washes away your frustration. You would say you're glad to see the badass in front of you, which you are, but she's seriously beaten up. You invite her inside and she drinks your hot chocolate, not asking for permission, not that she needed it, she just always do it, Eating out of your plates, drinking out of your cups, wearing your clothes, and you just let her all the time.

After she's settled in and got some rest. You break the silence, "Did you run into a car, or did a car run you over?" You asked, trying to lighten her mood. "I met the devil himself." She said loud and clear, you thought she was joking and that she wants you to leave it alone, so you burst out laughing, you see her at the corner of your eye not laughing with you, your laughter dies down, and realisation hits.

"Oh. You're not joking." You said after you cleared your throat."I wish I was." She replied, exhaustion in her voice is now more evident, "Tell me about it, " you requested.

She tells you the story.

After hearing the end of the story, you think to yourself for a moment, and you said, "So. You have no friends." She smiles at your response to the story she told. "That's what you get from all that?" She questioned, and you took her hand, "I'm just kidding, babe. From what you describe, that doesn't sound like the devil. Trust me. I know, cause I've met them." You nod and try to take your hand back and let hers go, but she tightens the grip, not wanting to be deprived of your touch.

"What do you mean you've met them?" She asked, but you just ignored her. "He just sounds like a total scum who didn't have a mother that loved him." You added to your last statement, and she asks again, "How did you meet the devil?" But you just keep ignoring her."Your guy just needed to be taught a lesson or two, " you added again to your last statement.

"Stop ignoring me!" She shouted, frustrated of you who kept ignoring her, "Okay... chill.-- Damn!" You chuckled nervously, a little scared for your life, but also somehow turned on. "What do you wanna know?" You inquired, and she said,"Everything. Tell me everything." Her eyes fixated on you. You look up at the ceiling, contemplating. "Okay, but there's a catch. I tell you everything, you do the same. No lies. No holding back certain truths to manipulate the story." You commanded, and she took a breath and huffs. The cabin is filled with silence until you both speak at the same time.

You said, "I didn't think so," she said. "Okay, fine. Deal"

Your eyes widen by what she said and ask her to repeat her sentence just so you could be sure you heard it right

"I said, fine. I'm willing to tell you everything if you tell me everything"

You told her who you really are. You put it plainly, not sugarcoating anything, wishing she'd look at you the same after everything.

You're a serial killer. A Stalker. You hunt your prey with the help of your job. A journalist. You were once an investigator, but they black listed you, saying your emotions get the better of you, and they concluded you're not fit for that job. You stalk them, investigate them, and with enough concrete evidence, you know that won't hold up in court. You took matters into your own hands by punishing them yourself. Torturing and killing them if they don't go to prison. Your prey are usually rapist. Physical abuser. And pedophiles.

She tells you her story and everything. How she wants to destroy or rule the world or something entirely different. She told you. She wishes the same thing as you are, for nothing to change, yet everything is.

"I guess we actually do, have a lot in common. We're both killers. We both think we're making the world a better place, but really, we're just making ourselves feel better. --Two silly and lonely humans playing god," You said, and you sighed, and she sighed in return, "Yeah. I guess so, too."

There was complete silence for quite some time.

She looks at you endearingly and smirks, "I was right. You were a serial killer." You both chuckled at the same moment. "Yep," you replied and looked back at her. "So, did you do a background check on me?" She asked curiously, wanting to hear your affirmative, but you didn't give her the satisfaction."No. I always thought you were just a hallucination." "What?" She asked and you continue to speak "but then I think, my mind could have not made up something as badass and intelligent as you" "and, there it is.--" They both burst out laughing, a tear escaping their eye from the joy of it all.

You're now cuddled up in bed. Her head resting on your stomach while you play with her hair. "I hope you still like me after all that" She said out of the blue "I hope you still like me after all that too" You said in response wanting to let her know you feel the same way she do.

"we're insane," she stated, and you agreed, "indeed we are"

She moves up, and her face now hovers on top of yours. She placed a gentle kiss on your lips, and your hand rested on her waist. You're now looking eye to eye, you move your head up and kiss her back, but not as gently, more desperately, missing her tongue on yours for a year, and thinking she wouldn't be back again. Here she is, as desperate and as hungry for you as you are for her.

In the morning, you're now the one resting your head on her body. You look up hoping to watch her sleep, but she's already looking at you. "How long have you been staring at the back of my head?" You asked lethargically, "Not long enough, " she answered, and she planted a kiss on your forehead, and you hummed by the contact.

During lunch, you couldn't keep your eyes off of her. Her stunning features just simply capture you, and then you speak your mind, "Now that looks more you. Miss gorgeously strange badass." You complimented her new look. "I already told you my name. Don't tell me you've forgotten." She said, still fazed by your constantly out of the blue flirting, "How could I forget such a cool name. Cipher, " you said her name in a seducing tone. She shakes her head and turns to look away cause she knows she blushed by the way you said her name, "Whatever." That's all she could say.

After having lunch and constantly teasing her, you rested. You took her hand and led her to a lake. You told her to take her clothes off, and she didn't move, "Is this the part where you kill me?" You didn't answer her and just look at her with a smirk on your face. You walk closer to her and start to slowly take your clothes off teasing her. She gulped, and you moved closer to her with no clothes on, all in your nakedness, you hover your face on hers, and you brushed your lips to her, then you ran towards the water.

She stood there dumbfounded, all worked up, and turned the hell on. She quickly took her clothes off and followed you. She wants you to finish what you started.

[flameobitch]

Hi, I really like your dovesso content, your arts and headcanons are just great. Can you write some funny sketches of how dovesso’s daughter spends time with her moms, evers and nevers? I really hope that I will see more arts with Rowena❤️

Royal AU

Little Princess Rowena didn't understand why everyone was so afraid of her mother's counselor.

By all accounts, Lady L, the formidable obese adviser to Her Royal Majesty, was a terrifying and creepy person, and those who dared, allowed themselves to describe her as crazy and out of this world. She towered above the world, allowing herself to kneel only in front of her queen, Clarissa the Great, bright and rather naive, but who doted on her, Rowena.

Rowena liked Lady L. She allowed her to call her L, combed her hair and helped her with homework, and if she behaved well, she read her a book before bed. L knew a lot of fairy tales and stories, she had the same curly, disheveled hair like hers, and Rowena didn't understand how you could call L creepy.

_______

Rowena dreams of becoming just like L. Also dress on a par with men, fight and make soldiers cry. And never cry yourself. The princess dreams of becoming great, like her mother, and just as generous. And never be sad.

But L was crying, and Mom was sad. Rowena saw it once, when accidentally opened the door without knocking. Lady L was clinging to her mother's legs, sitting on her knees, and burying her face in a golden dress, crying abruptly. And her mother stroked her hair and wiped away a lonely tear. Rowena would swear to that.

It was what the maids described as "broken." But Lady L or Mama couldn't break down, they smiled and laughed, got angry and annoyed, shouted and were silent. They behaved as always, as if they weren't crying in the dark silence of her mother's chambers.

Rowena dreams of finding her love and that she would be like them.

_____

• Lady L is a witch, but has never used magic to harm Clarissa;

• Clarissa is a widow. Her husband, Rafal Mistral, was killed during the mutiny;

• Anemone is a duchess from Clarissa's retinue and the only one who can openly criticize her. And she's Rowena's godmother;

• Rowena got into a fight with the son of a court lady because of his words about L;

• Clarissa, contrary to everything, is not Rowena's mother, but Rowena is indeed the sole heir to the throne and the daughter of Rafal;

• Lady L had personal motives to kill the King during the rebellion;

• Clarissa knows about it, but has never brought it up;

• Rowena runs around the castle with the palace dogs and gives strange names to objects;

• Lady L teaches Rowena to fight and Clarissa is very worried about her little baby;

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Offer me the deathless death”

Andromache the Scythian x Female Reader

request ( found here ) by @nightly-polaris

|･ω･) go wild, you said and go wild, i did. i included as much of the provided details as i could. hopefully, you’ll find it agreeable

cw : 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ // dubcon-ish // ✂️ ✂️😼 // overstimulation

casually quoting hozier for all my andromache fics. that fight scene on the plane and the way she grabbed nile by the jaw tho 😩 wanted to incorporate it in a fic ever since i saw it, and fucking finally did

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Hallucinations. A fever dream.

Anything but reality is what you tell yourself, and what a job you have been doing thus far! Fantastically foolish if nothing else. Cocooned in a bubble of lies that spill forth none other than your lips, and illusions that are carved by your very mind itself, you harbour not a droplet of doubt that the reality in front of your eyes is nothing but bona fide.

People after all are the most masterful at fooling themselves.

Ensnared in a web of deceit weaved by your fingers lie no hapless preys, but you, yourself, who revel in the sweet taste of false security as you do in the richness of the creamy warm chocolate drink that coats your tongue.

Even though business in your shop today is notably satisfactory if not the most profitable, it is not the digits that matter to you the most. Your little shop is borne purely out of your profound passion and desire; obligation is out of the picture. It is where you feel the most at home, doing what you love while bathed in the aroma of freshly ground coffee and cocoa.

Amidst brewing a cup of americano as per the order of a customer with stylish sun-glasses and a striking jawline, your dress is accidentally soiled. Little do you know, the scatter of black and bitter constellations along the pristine white of your sleeve is merely the dawn of a darker, more bitter happening.

──────── ༻✿༺ ────────

Finding you has been relatively easy.

When the familiar dreams begin plaguing her usually dreamless nights, a telltale sign of a new immortal on the horizon, Andromache has half a mind to ignore them altogether. Had she not seen the places that stoke recognition amongst the wild tapestry of images, she certainly would have. But alas, her target, as it so happens, is no stranger to her. By no means does the Scythian know you. Nor you, the Scythian. New immortals bring together with them an assortment of risks, one of them being the exposure of their secret. It is with such knowledge in mind that Andromache feels obliged to set out for you despite her reluctance. You living in the neighbourhood of her temporary place of residence only makes the search all the more convenient.

Being a warrior for many a millennium has developed a vast array of tactical traits into personal trademarks. Those that once upon a time had had to be mindfully exercised, now occur as easily and effortlessly as breathing, involuntary more often than not. Beneath the dark shades of a spectacle perched on a well-defined slope of a nose lies a pair of sage green eyes, scanning the vicinity of wherever she goes like an eagle on a hunt. They have landed on it then, during her visit to a store, standing adjacent to it is a cafe in the name of “Trouvaille”. The Scythian is not one to be easily intrigued, but what a lie it would be to say that the charming building with its vintage air and curious name had not tickled her fancy. Or its owner whom she has noticed is all sweet smiles and dulcet eyes.

Eyes which she has only seen from afar then, now she stares directly into them. Protected by the shades, the intense greens study you with brazen openness, roaming all over your frame, from the tiny clips that decorate your cascading hair like colourful Christmas lights to the butterfly pendant that dangles from a simple silver chain, hovering directly above the dip of your throat, from the little flower prints on your dress, the skirt of which softly caresses your thighs, to occasional glimpse of seemingly soft flesh that teases the Scythian, left uncovered by a pair of white thigh-highs.

It is retrieving you that is the hard part.

Immediately upon arrival, Andromache has read your features for perhaps a trace of recognition. You paying the Scythian a visit in her dreams can only mean one thing after all: that she, too, must have appeared in yours. Yet, no widening of your eyes greet her, only a smile that does not waver.

“Hi, welcome to cafe Trouvaille. What can I get you?”

“Americano will do. Hot.”

Beside the fact that it is broad day light, a few people roam the place. As capable as Andromache is of manhandling you, it is not in her best interest to attract attention. The situation calls for patience. Rushing will spell only more trouble at best. Wait she must, and so, wait she does.

Leisurely, the Scythian sips her coffee, studying you periodically as she does so. It is after some minutes have ticked by, the cup of coffee sitting on the table, empty and cold, that she decides to fish a book, leather-bound and well-worn, out of her backpack. Thumbing through old pages, Andromache spends the better part of the wait indulging in literature, until one by one, people start trickling out of the shop.

In due time, it leaves only the Scythian and you.

The sky has taken on a deep orange hue by the time she stands to approach you. She eyes you surreptitiously, and upon confirming that she is not at the receiving end of your attention, the Scythian moves to lock the door. Ever the diligent wielder of caution, she does not forget to flip the little dangling plate. The letter “We’re closed.” that is carved into the wood will help ward off potential visitors.

Even as she walks towards the counter, you do not seem to notice her for you are kept occupied by the book in your lap, fingers busy scribbling onto paper. It is the tinkle of porcelain on marble as she drops the cup and saucer atop the counter that finally has your eyes zeroing in on her. She watches you watch her. Backdropped by the sunset with her shades finally tucked away into the pocket of her jacket, the sight of the Scythian brings about a subtle shift in your mien. Although fleeting, the furrow of your brows that must have been imperceptible to others, does not go unnoticed.

“Hello, again. I hope you’ve had a good time.”

The smile that you give her is sweet, if not the most genuine.

“Why don’t we save the pleasantries, hm?” The smile that touches her lips, in contrast, has a hint of sourness. “You’ve seen me before.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe I have.”

Your answer only brings about a twofold increase in the Scythian’s irritation. Judging by the slightest delay in your response, she knows that you are well aware that she has not meant it as a query, and so, she says as much.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have mistaken me for someone else.”

The adamant denial from you has strong, slender digits tightening around the strap that is slung over one shoulder.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? You died, and then you woke up, saw a bunch of people you had never seen before in your dream, including me.”

“But, that was- No. Surely it was-.”

“Look, kid-” Forming into a thin line are Andromache’s lips as she takes a moment to compose herself, slowly huffing out an exhale through flared nostrils. “-I know you’ve got questions but I need you to come with me first.”

“No. No, I don’t think so. This isn’t real. None of this is real. Leave, please. I need you to leave.”

Lips that slowly curl into a smirk and a chuckle that comes out dark and dangerous. “It’s cute that you think you have a choice.”

Battered boots that come to rest just shy of polished loafers.

“You know…your folly is, dare i say, commendable. Reality is not just something you can rewrite, and yet, you managed an impeccable job of tricking yourself into thinking what you believe to be the truth is the truth.”

One foreboding frame that looms like a predator and the one that cowers like a cornered prey.

“Alas, I almost feel bad for shattering your little illusion. But then again, I’ve done a great many questionable things in my life having lived as long as I have. What significance would it make to add another?”

“What I saw in my dream. They really happened.” It is a question albeit not being voiced like one. The Scythian does not find the need to answer. Why bother when the answer already lies in your hand?

At her silence, a look of horror dawns on your features. “You’re a murderer. You and your friends. I’ve seen them. I- I’m not- I can’t.”

“Oh darling, a rose without thorns is but a weed, easy to be plucked, to be trampled on. You’re one of us now. You will come with me whether you like it or not, and you will do so this instant.”

Every single step you hesitantly take back is met with an immediate footfall of boots as they fall right onto the place that your loafers have just vacated. It goes like this for a while, you actively ruining the close proximity, and Andromache rectifying it, until there is nowhere for you to flee, and your hips collide with the counter edge.

“Why me?” She parries your plea with a nonchalant shrug, face impassive. “Beats me.”

“Please, I-” Tears glisten in your eyes, murmuring beseechingly. “Let me go. I can’t kill. I know nothing about fighting.”

While her hands grip the counter on either side of your waist to cage you in strong arms, her lips lower to the shell of your ear, breath warm as she speaks. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You can kill. In fact, anyone can. You just have to listen to me.”

“No! Let me go! I don’t want-” Yells dissolve into a yelp by way of digits seizing your jaw.

“I’ve gone out of my way to exercise great forbearance, but it is running terribly thin. It would do you well not to try it any further.” She husks threateningly, feeling the softness of your cheeks giving under the roughness of her battle-hardened fingers. Salty droplets drench her digits as tears start spilling in rivulets down your cheeks.

“Go on, bite me with those baby teeth. Scratch me with your little paws.” She taunts. “Why, would you look at that! All bark and no bite. How pathetic.”

It is as she says this that your teeth sink into the palm that is pressed tightly against your mouth. The unexpected retaliation has her stance faltering, and although you manage to break free from her bodily confines, the Scythian, being far more nimble and dexterous, hardly has to break sweat in recapturing you.

“You're a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? Two can play that game, although don’t say I didn’t warn you. Breaking men, after all, is considered one of my fortes.”

Wrists locked behind your back in her iron grip, and body bent over the marble counter, Andromache revels in the quavering of your body beneath her own as one wicked hand, like a sneaky serpent, slowly slithers up your thigh.

“Are you-” A whimper flies past your lips when your arms are pulled taunt, shoulders craning uncomfortably. And then, she yanks, hard and unforgiving, until you are forced onto your feet, back colliding with her front. “Are you going to kill me?”

Andromache cannot help but laugh at your question, a rich throaty sound that brings about the erection of soft little hair on the nape of your neck.

Your wrists are released at the cost of your cheeks bearing the brunt of her ire as rough fingers dig into your flesh. They flee from their cage between the two of your bodies to take sanctuary on her forearm, soft fingers grasping the sleeve of her jacket. “Where’s the fun in killing you when I can just have my way with you, hm?” Her hold around one of your thighs remains unrelenting while the hand on your jaw coerces you into craning your neck. Your head rests on her chest with a grunt, and you drown, held spellbound by the intense green of her eyes. “I’d rather enjoy the view of you crumbling beneath me than watch you bleed out only to come alive again.”

Although it douses you in shame, you have to admit that you are not entirely immune to the woman. How can you when she oozes charisma, frighteningly beautiful even as she looms over you with all the grandeur of a great menacing panther.

And then, too many things happen all at once; fingers that crawl into a forest of hair to grab a fistful, with a yank to the side, a throat that is bared for the predator above to conveniently sink her teeth into, the frenzied little flutter of a pulse beneath the flat of a warm tongue, chocked sobs that dissolve into a strangled gasp as a cold hand journeys into the waistband of an underwear.

Previously, your hands have found home on her thighs, fingers grappling fabric, but upon feeling wandering digits inside your underwear, one of them flies towards the offending hand, locking around a wrist.

“N-no. You can’t.”

“You would do well to remember that I am in control here.”

The Scythian’s growl is not only heard, but also felt on your skin as teeth nibble, mouth suck, and lips soothe the stings that afterwards will linger on your body in the form of dark blues and bright reds.

Horror and humiliation dance a wild tango whereas fingers waltz delicately along your folds, a condescending tsk echoing off your nape when they come away wet. Betrayed and backstabbed by your own body, mortification colours your face as not one but two of her sizeable digits sink into your heat with little to no effort. Although sudden, it does not hurt, though it stings, leaves you breathless still. Dewdrops bloom on your lashes and they drop down your cheeks when fingers in your core bury knuckles deep, abuse your tightness. You feel them in the very depths of your body, filling you so deliciously that when they wiggle so much as a little, it is more than enough to sucker-punch a breath out of your lungs.

Between her hot mouth kissing your neck all rosy and sore, her fingers cleverly caressing your insides, and her hand toying with your breasts beneath your dress, it is no surprise that your undoing greets you with a tidal wave of pleasure.

It is, however, a surprise to find yourself being shoved back-first onto the table, legs being pulled wide by fingers twining round your thighs. You are still suffering through a series of aftershocks from your first orgasm when her mouth attaches itself to your quavering folds, that wicked tongue immediately slithering into your hole. It does a cruel little nudge and your fingers wind up entwined in her hair. Instead of a reproach, it is a hum of satisfaction that you earn as the Scythian grabs a handful of your buttocks and devour you like a starved man.

By the seventh one, you are well beyond exhausted, brain foggy courtesy of being fucked into oblivion, and body agonisingly sore, littered with deep hues and teeth marks. Somewhere between third and fourth, if you recall correctly, she has stripped you bare, bar your thigh-highs, and completely rid herself off clothes, magnificent muscles coming into display. You have ogled them with barely restrained awe until your attention is swayed elsewhere by her mouth leaving traces of herself all across the expanse of your body.

Now, once again, you marvel at them, entranced by the impressiveness of her muscles that ripple with every roll of her powerful hips.

You barely recognise the face that is staring right back at you, reflected in the surface of sea green eyes, or the sounds that are oozing out of your lips. Sweat clings to the forehead of the woman towering over you as it does to yours. One of your legs is slung over her shoulder, and the other lies limp and useless between her thighs, as she rubs herself into your core with wild abandon.

“I- I can’t. Too much. It’s too muc- ah!”

“Yes, you can.”

She has taken the hand that goes to rest on one of her hipbones only to weave her fingers with yours. Now, they hover in the air, tightly intertwined, suddenly made much tighter by the white knuckled grip of your hand.

“Slow- nghh please! Be gentle.”

“You do as I say. Not the other way round. Is that understood?”

The desperate nods of your head is met with a bite to the succulent inside of your thigh just above the brim of your sock.

“Answer me.”

“Yes!”

“My word shall be your command, and you will dance to my every desire, won’t you darling?”

“Yes! Yes, I will.”

“You are mine after all, aren’t you? Mine to do with what I please. Mine to use how I see fit. Don’t you agree?”

“I’m yours- ngh- all yours.”

“Good girl.” She moans, movements escalating from lazy strokes to untamed gyrations.

“Andy.” She rasps breathlessly. “I want to hear my name dripping down those pretty little lips when you fall apart.”

And hear she does. Andy. Andy. Andy. Andy. Her name is all you can cry out as your juices mingle with one another’s, the combined essence soiling your thigh-highs as well as the couch beneath you.

Back curving, toes curling, you soar high, high into heaven, swimming amongst clouds, drowning in euphoria. And then, you plummet, down into the pit of hell, down into another one of those little deathless deaths. An intense blinding white replaced by an absolute dark.

When you awake, it is to the heart-melting sensation of lips softly caressing your forehead. You find yourself on the same couch that you have passed out, cocooned in toned arms, face tucked snugly into a warm, musky throat. Reflexively, you begin nosing the soft underside of her jaw before you are startled by fingers wandering down your very naked thigh.

“Look at me.” Obediently, you oblige, reluctantly leaving the pleasant warmth of her neck to do what she desires.

“What have I told you?” All too delicately, or as delicately as the callouses on her hand will allow, the pad of a thumb grazes the apple of your cheek.

Fighting against the urge to slip your eyes shut, you sigh dreamily instead. “That as long as I remain a good obedient girl, no harm will befall me.”

“That’s right. And are you?”

A nod as an answer prompts a pat of a forefinger on your cheek, and then, another. You know what she wants, so you give her just that.

“I’m a good girl.”

Not only do you see the smirk on her face, but you also feel it on your skin as she leans down to drag her lips across yours. “You forgot to mention whose, darling.”

“I’m a good girl, Andy. Your good girl.”

“And will my good girl obey my every command like she had promised?”

“Mmhm.”

A breath catches in your throat as her lips journey down down down, admiring the traces of none other than herself until that ravenous mouth adjourn to your hip, sucking the tender spot on your hipbone to make it all the more vibrant.

Although it has not been the main purpose of her doing what she has done, it is without doubt that Andromache gets a sick sort of pleasure out of seeing you covered in her marks. Every inch of your body and soul, all irrevocably hers.

You have said it so yourself, willingly given yourself up to her. That being said, it is purely her own greed that has her craving more and more and more of you. The scent of you that is sinfully sweet, heady and uniquely yours, makes her ache. The sight of you, like the dewy petals of an exquisite flower, pretty and pulsating, makes her mouth water.

It is with this insatiable hunger swelling inside of her that the Scythian sinks to her knees between your luxuriously smooth thighs.

“One more, darling. Give me one more before we leave.”

And you do, oh how you do even as one bleeds into two and two into three, because a good girl does what she is taught, does she not? And you are a good girl, Andy’s sweet little good girl to do with what she will.

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[romancingromanoff]

Secrets & Sketches

Andromache the Scythian x f!reader

I decided to create a series of loosely related one shots for Andromache (my beloved). Here’s part 1 and part 2

Summary: You were always staring at her, not knowing she was staring back.

TW: None?

Word count: +5,100

Author's Note: Hi y'all. Here's some slightly domestic fluff before the action happens and the stakes skyrocket through the roof.

Despite never having lived with four strangers before, it turned out that your new situation offered you far more privacy than you had ever experienced while living with your mother.

The woman had a compulsive need to control every aspect of your life, from what you wore to what you ate. You were barely even safe in the bathroom. The years had taught you to lie with your words and carefully crafted smiles. Knowing what she wanted to hear from you and how you could appease her temper was like mastering a second language. Your skills in the craft became more and more refined throughout the years and your confidence ultimately grew. But you underestimated your mother and made the greatest mistake of them all.

“I know you’re lying to me! What are you trying to hide from me, you ungrateful whore?”

A picture frame nearly collided with your head, chipping the door frame instead of scratching your face. The glass shattered on the floor and your body jumped twice, once at the sound and another time when your eyes settled on the damage and found that your favorite childhood photo with your grandmother was destroyed. 

“Whatever you did, I will find out! You cannot lie to me, I am your mother!”

It was one afternoon you had wanted all to yourself to go see the movie Roman Holiday after school. The charismatic Audrey Hepburn, riding on a Vespa with the largest smile you had ever seen, caused strange feelings to stir in your stomach when you had first watched the trailer. She was a princess masquerading as a commoner in order to freely experience the wonders of the Eternal City. Oh, how you envied her character. Your mother, however, could only focus on how short her hair was. The shortest your hair had ever been was when you were a fresh newborn. Once it grew past your upper back, you were never allowed to cut it, despite all the other girls you knew being able to short styles. 

“How disappointing.” She scoffed when a clip of her getting her haircut played. “Such a beautiful young woman and she wants to make herself look like a man? I really don’t understand your generation, you’re all confused.”

When you arrived home late that evening, she refused to believe the lie you had produced about giving some tutoring lessons after school. It was only two days later that she found the proof she wanted. While snooping through your journal she came across the movie ticket you had pasted next to your latest entry. She burned the entire thing as only one portion of your punishment.

How your mother could predict your actions, anticipate your every move, and see through every single one of your lies you did not know. It was like she knew you and how your mind functioned but could never truly understand how suffocated you felt by the twisted ways she expressed her “love” for you. She was your mother, the closest kin you had left after your grandmother’s passing and the woman that had known you for your entire existence. The fact that she birthed you was one she’d never let you forget, yet you knew she would spend your entire life trying to mold you into something you weren’t if she could. If she could never accept you then how could anybody else?

Then you met Andy, who always seemed to be in tune with whatever you were thinking. Hell, she could practically guess your thoughts word for word without even really trying, yet not once did it ever feel like she was violating your mind as your mother had. You were almost completely certain that she was fully aware of the times when you were drawing her. It was impossible not to see the art in her movements. She’d be doing something mundane yet slightly active such as washing the dishes and you’d pull your sketchbook out. The moment you put pencil to paper she would slow down ever-so-slightly. A plate that needed maybe two wipes suddenly took four or more to clean. She must have known what she was doing to you, softly smirking as she folded laundry 

But did she know what it was doing to you? How intensely you felt about her and as more than just an art subject, more than someone you merely admired. Pages full of sketches, varying in detail and design, became dedicated to capturing the alluring domestic side of the ancient warrior. Every angle, every shadow was carefully reconstructed (to the best of your ability anyway) as if to preserve each moment and time so that your eyes may never forget what she looked like chopping onions on a rainy Tuesday evening. A brief moment that might be incredibly insignificant for a being that has walked the earth for thousands of years, but one that was still so precious to you. The time you spent together, even the moments everyone else might consider to be dull, were filled with color all because of her.

Why she allowed you to draw her so frequently was something you couldn’t quite figure out. This rather untraditional dance the two of you engaged in was never spoken about in words. There was no doubt that Andy would have said something much earlier had she been uncomfortable being drawn by you. A part of you enjoyed entertaining the idea that, perhaps in some small way, Andy might actually return your feelings. But at the same time, you didn’t want to be wrong and come off as an artistic creep trying to invade her privacy.

The good thing was you never had to worry about any of the others looking through your sketchbook. The one time Joe had asked if he could take a peek it hadn’t even crossed your mind that you could have said ‘no’ to him. But the smallest bit of hesitance that he had seen in your eyes as you prepared to hand over your most personal and sacred treasure immediately stopped him.

“Y/N, you don’t actually have to show me anything if you don’t want to. I was merely curious but no part of me would be offended if you want to keep your art to yourself. I will always respect your privacy first.”

His words were almost foreign to you, like ones you had only ever read on pages and later discovered were pronounced completely differently when you finally heard them spoken out loud. Still, you knew Joe meant everything he said. Though all of your new companions were certainly capable of it, none of them had ever once tried to deceive you or keep you hidden from the truth. Previously living with a pathological liar had taught you all the signs you needed to know and not once had you found a single one since joining the old guard.

It was a bit startling how safe you already felt with these few strangers you had only met a few short weeks ago. You could talk to all of them about (almost) anything, although you did worry that your endless amount of questions might annoy any one of the unnaturally older beings. Sometimes you nearly cringed at the thought of how ignorant and stupid you must have appeared in their eyes. It mostly motivated you to contribute where you could. Cooking and cleaning were not tasks you necessarily enjoyed, but it felt nice to make some type of contribution to the team. Still, you longed to prove yourself as something more, to help save lives and make Andy, Booker, Joe, and Nico proud. And maybe, just maybe, if you became worthy enough of someone like your rescuer, she might look at you differently.

┊ ┊┊ 

It was nearing morning hours and your endless thoughts hadn’t allowed you to sleep yet. There was a buzzing in your body, making it impossible to fully relax, even though you knew you had a busy day of training ahead of you and you needed the rest. You tried to conjure up the comforting sound of Andy’s steady heartbeat as you imagined her lying next to you, only to grow even more anxious when you began feeling guilty for indulging in such thoughts. 

Did she even like women the way you did? You certainly had your suspicions and noticed the way her heart seemed to break anytime there was a mention of Quynh. The necklace that never left her neck also appeared to hold a great amount of pain and significance to her. But even if you were right, Andy had never brought up any details regarding her love life and you were determined to respect that undiscussed boundary. The tossing and turning was just an unfortunate side effect that eventually had you cave in and get up to grab a drink from the kitchen. 

“Can’t sleep?” The voice of the very person you had been thinking of came from behind you as soon as you had turned on a small lamp. You let out a nervous laugh and kept a steady hand on your chest when you caught her smiling directly at you. It made you take some extra time while getting your glass of water so that your heartbeat had a chance to settle.

Andy sat at the bar sipping on a mug of coffee. Even with the light being so dim, you didn’t need it to tell her beverage was completely black. 

“I still don’t know how you’re able to drink that. Every time I try it it’s like trying to swallow hot liquid dirt.”

“Really?” The Scythian chuckled and you prayed the darkness would hide your melted expression. “That’s surprising considering how you drown yours in milk and sugar.”

“Hey, we can’t all be as tough as you.” 

“No one said you had to be. No one said you weren’t already.” You supposed you were tough in the context of being able to override death itself, but besides that, it wasn’t a character trait you ever considered yourself to have. Even the immortality thing was basically a fluke. 

The dark haired woman gestured for you to sit down and you awkwardly lowered yourself into the chair across from her. Your glass of water looked silly standing next to her more refined drink. “Yeah, that’s me. I got tough hands covered in paper cuts and callouses from drawing.”

“Art is tough for a lot of people. It’s tough for me. I could never quite get the emotional vulnerability part down and I feel like all the best art pulls from that. I would say you could probably teach me a thing or two about drawing but you have something more inborn than that. It can’t be taught.”

“But you’ve never seen my work?” Had she? You didn’t think she’d go through your things without your permission but there was definiteness in her tone that told you her words were true. 

“No,” she shrugged. Nothing in her seemed to waver. “I don’t need to. There’s this look you get in your eyes when you’re completely focused on drawing that seems to transport you to this different world. I always wonder where you go but don’t want to tear you away when you’re clearly inspired.”

You had been staring at her for so long believing that she was merely tolerating your strange behavior. You assumed she simply felt unbothered. The idea that she might have been secretly staring back never once crossed your mind. 

“You… You watch me?” A beat passed and your brain short circuited, unsure of what kind of answer you even hoped to hear. If she did then was it with the same unspoken desire you held in your heart that you could be worthy of her one day? No, it had to be something far from that. Your awkward, uncoordinated behavior could only be considered entertaining at best if Andy didn’t find you pitiable. You imagined it was like watching your neighbor’s beagle after they arrived home from a medical procedure at the vet. The poor thing was so loopy yet unaware that he couldn’t walk in a straight line. Every few steps he took he’d also crumble to the floor before eagerly trying to get back up and making another attempt with the same results. That’s what she must see whenever she saw you trip over your own feet. Or how silly you looked the other day when Booker tried to show you how to hold a pistol and you shook so hard that it fumbled out of your hands.

Even with all the time in the world, it was a struggle to see yourself ever truly earning your place among the rest of the guard one day. You not only lacked combat experience but had been thoroughly sheltered from the world by your mother. She hadn’t allowed you to participate in any sports, not even the more feminine ones like dance or golf. The result was barely being able to do a push-up and having the wind knocked out of your lungs after only a brief jog. 

The others had started you off with some basic self defense techniques, which caused you to wake up with sore muscles you hadn’t even known existed. Everyone was extremely patient with you, stressing the importance of slowly building up your strength and reminding you that there was no rush to suddenly reach their skill level when they’d been fighting for longer than some of the strongest empires had lasted. But then you’d watch them training together or listen to one of them recount several of the missions they completed while you were stuck waiting in the safe house. They were out there saving lives, as well as literally sacrificing their own, while you could only hope to one day do the same. 

In the back of your head you could hear your mother berating you for having such ridiculous dreams. If she could see you struggling to learn a pull up she would certainly laugh at your miserable attempts. But Andy didn’t look at you like you were “perfectly pathetic” as your mother often described. No, she seemed to stare at you softly, which made you feel like you were the only person she was thinking about. 

“I find you interesting. More specifically, it’s been a pleasure to watch you grow into yourself these past few weeks. You look much more relaxed.”

You were fairly relaxed, aside from the fact that your heart was currently threatening to jump out of your chest. Or if physicists could somehow harness its energy then it could power the entire world. She had just admitted to finding you interesting and you were supposed to answer back in words. You took a painfully slow drink.

“Well, it has been nice being able to make my own decisions and not have someone constantly looking over my shoulder.” You think back to an instance where you were recently baking a lemon glaze cake for the team and some icing stuck to your fingers. Immediately, you went to wash your hands as your mother would have insisted upon when it occurred to you that she no longer had control over you. Licking your fingers after that had never felt so satisfying. “Even the little choices I’m able to make now are kind of exciting. Is that strange to say?”

“Not at all.” Andy shook her head. “It’s a beautiful thing, seeing how far you’ve come in such a short amount of time. Not to mention how glad I am that you feel safe enough around us to be yourself.”

A pang of guilt ran through you. What must she think of you if you were keeping cryptic drawings of her a secret? “I really do, which is why I don’t want you to believe I’m trying to hide things from you! Not forever, at least. I trust you, and perhaps it’s more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else. But with my drawings… I suppose it’s rather complicated and I’ve never willingly shown them to anyone before. They’re nothing inappropriate, though! I would never do anything like that.”

Before you could completely melt into a puddle of despair, Andy reached for your forearm, anchoring the two of you together while helping to calm you down. Her hand was warmed from holding her hot mug.

“Hey, it’s alright, I trust you too. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I’m flattered about the drawings and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can wait until you’re ready to show them to me when you feel comfortable doing so.”

It was completely vexatious how patient Andy could be with you, or how she always seemed to know the right thing to say to make you feel better. She possessed the ability to soothe the fears you understood intimately along with the others which you had tried to suppress and nearly forgotten about. You simply weren’t used to being treated in such a way. 

“How are you so patient with me all the time?” Your question came off more irritated than you intended, making you cringe inwardly. You weren’t even sure what you were really asking about.

In the few moments it took Andy to start processing the question, your thoughts finally began to come together and spill out all at once.

“I’m deeply appreciative of how understanding you’ve been, don’t get me wrong, but when I imagine myself in your position, it must be frustrating. You do so much for me, all four of you do, but you especially. I’m always needing your help with countless things even though I have nothing of use to offer in return. You’re all incredibly worldly people, capable of doing more than I ever have even before your first deaths. I’ve been kept sheltered my entire life and probably wouldn’t last a day on my own. Having me join the team probably feels a lot more like babysitting than anything else, yet you never complain about it.”

Even though you knew it wasn’t in her nature, sometimes you wished she would allow herself to be angry with you. Or if she even expressed the slightest bit of irritation then that might make you feel better somehow. You waited for Andy to tell you that you sounded ridiculous, or to make another comment about your tendency to overthink things. Nothing like that ever came.

In one swift, breathtaking movement, her hand carefully tilted your chin up towards her face so that you were caught in her stare. The skin of her thumb was rough and her green-blue eyes bore into your own, tender yet determined as they searched for something deep in your soul. Though her touch was completely innocent, it was also intensely intimate from your perspective at least. You wanted to bear your entire being to her, consciously preparing your mind and body to take in whatever words she was about to say.

“Y/N, listen to me. There is nothing you owe me. Relationships aren’t transactional and I enjoy being able to help you. You also didn’t choose this life and I can’t hold what you don’t know against you. I won’t lie and say patience comes to me easily. Truthfully, when you get to my age everything is frustrating. I’ve seen… far too much in my life aside from any type of explanation for it all and it has made me bitter. But you don’t deserve any of that and I don’t want to be that type of person anymore. I don’t ever want to turn my back on people I care about again.”

Her eyes glossed over with the hue of a haunting memory, something from her past clearly bothering her. She let go of you in the crest of the emotion and you nearly whimpered when you lost her touch, but found the rare opportunity to offer Andy the comfort she needed. 

“I may not know much in the grand scheme of things, but I know you’re not bitter. Truly bitter people try to tear down everyone around them because there’s nothing misery loves more than company. You’re nothing like my mother, she wanted to control me and keep me trapped in a life where I could never have my own happiness. You set me free. Anyway, it would be hard to live as long as you have, see the things that you’ve seen, and not become discouraged with all of the wickedness that has happened throughout history. What matters is that you’ve continued to fight for others that wouldn’t normally stand a chance on their own. If you were actually as bitter as you think, you could turn your back on everyone without a single care in the world. I see how much you care for others, Andy. Bitter people only care about themselves and I don’t see how you can believe you’re one of them.”

The fact that you were so young was partially why Andy felt the need to hold herself back and take things slow with you. Although your life would never be normal, she wanted to give you the chance to choose your own path and chase whatever dreams you fancied. Right now, it was crucial to prepare you for the world and to teach you how to keep your shared secret safe. But she knew you’d want to adventure out on your own at some point, and that you’d probably want to experiment with other partners closer to your age. Andy was aware of the baggage she carried, as well as the fact that the nature of your relationship meant she held a type of influence over you. She would never allow herself to take advantage of you like that.

But one thing she couldn’t let you do was downplay yourself, not when your words touched her in ways she hadn’t felt in thousands of years.

“Do you really believe you’re of no use at all and have nothing to offer? Y/N, I’ve traveled to every corner of the world and met the wisest individuals that still led directionless and unfulfilled lives. They thought of themselves too highly, pushed others away, and in the end their knowledge meant nothing when they were unable to make meaningful connections. You have all the time you need to perfect your knowledge and learn every skill that exists or will develop in the future.” 

Your head tilted in perplexity. 

“What? You think we had phones or electricity back when I was growing up? I didn’t learn how to drive a car until late last century. It was really like the blind leading the blind in those early days.”

Imagining a Victorian era Andy accidentally crashing a motorized carriage or angrily shaking her fist at experimental drivers from atop of her horse was certainly entertaining. You wondered if the two of you would ever share a similar experience together.

Temporarily distracted by your smile, Andy nearly forgot the importance of the message she was trying to convey to you. 

“Y/N, you’re right that you’ve never really been given the chance to grow before all of this. None of that was your fault. The wonderful thing now is that you’re on your way to becoming smarter, like anybody else can when given the right tools. What you already have, your emotional strength and intelligence, is far more rare and valuable in my eyes. You teach me to look at things from a different perspective even when I’ve felt stuck in my ways for hundreds of years. Don’t overlook how much of an impact you can make or how much we all appreciate you.”

“Andy… I… Thank you.” You try not to cry, though you know she wouldn’t judge you if you did. Viewing your emotions as a strength is something that you never considered before. They were always a weakness back when you experienced nothing but misery, and now everything couldn’t be more different. Your new life was full of evenings spent getting tipsy and laughing at the stories your friends told you of places and times that sounded unreal. It was wanting the taste of more, the promise of the adventures that lay before you and the people you would get to share them with. It was a life you could hardly believe was real and you got to spend every single day with a woman that made your heart race with a single smile. Even if she never felt the same way about you, there was no chance that you’d trade your time with Andy for anything or anyone else. “Thank you for everything. I’m glad I get to experience all of this with you.”

She almost let her resolve crumble upon hearing your words. The grip around her drink tightened, heating up her flesh to a tender sting but she persevered through it. She knew that if she touched you again then it would all be over. There would be no way she could let go.

“As exciting as everything can be, I can’t help but feel nervous for what’s to come. I worry that no matter how hard I train I won’t be prepared. No matter how much I learn, there is bound to be something I overlook.”

How right you were.

“One thing I can tell you is that there are some things you’re never ready for, even if you spend centuries preparing. People, history, and almost everything I’ve encountered follow some type of pattern maybe 99% of the time. But all it takes is that 1% chance of randomness to make life unpredictable. Even the most meticulous of plans can end up going sideways. At the end of the day, I always ask myself why I’m here or why certain things happen and I’ve never been very close to an answer. There are questions I’ve carried with me for even longer than I can remember.”

It would have been quite terrifying to hear those words from anyone else besides Andy. If she still struggled to figure things out then you were practically cursed to be clueless for the rest of your existence. Although strangely enough, it was actually comforting to hear that she shared a similar sense of existential questioning. Both of you were human even if your lifespans or biology no longer were. 

“Okay, but you must have a guess for when we’ll see flying cars at least. Or do you believe people will really be able to walk on Mars one day?”

A smooth attempt to cover up her broadening smile by lifting her coffee up to her mouth might have gone unnoticed if you hadn’t been so enamored by each one of Andy’s actions. She had a harder time hiding her eyes, which playfully rolled at your question. 

“Sure, I suppose it’s possible. Hey, maybe you’ll be the first one and you can tell us all about it.”

“While the prospect of accomplishing something you’ve never done is intriguing, I wouldn’t want to do it without you.”

The words left your mouth, leaving only your pair of eyes holding hers throughout a deep silence. It wasn’t often that Andy looked like she was at a loss for words but this was definitely one of those times.

Quickly, you tried to cover up your confession with a stupid excuse. “I mean if there really are man-eating martians up there they’ll want to eat you first. You have way more muscle.”

“Right,” Andy laughed in agreement. “I guess that’s all I’m good for besides being a model for your artwork. Are you fast enough to draw me up there in time before I get turned into alien food?”

“Maybe.” You blushed and tried to go for Andy’s move to cover your face with your cup, only to realize that it was practically useless when it was made of glass. 

“I, uh, really wanted to get some sleep tonight before waking up for early training but I guess I’m not doing a very good job at that.”

“Sleep in, you deserve the break. You’ve been pushing yourself really hard and should get to sleep in for once. There’s no need to overexert yourself.”

“Wait, aren’t you leaving for your mission around sunrise?” Andy was planning to look for some intel in the city and you knew she might be gone for up to a few days. “Wake me up before you go so I can say goodbye.”

For a moment, all the Scythian can do is try to memorize the look on your face, wishing that she could permanently sketch the vision on paper like you could. You gazed up at her with such innocence and devotion in your eyes, as if she was simply running to get milk from the grocery store the next morning. The team had actually glossed over the more important details about Andy’s assignment and what it would entail. It wasn’t that you were unaware of Andy’s brutal past and countless killings, but you still had yet to witness such violence. She couldn’t help but worry that witnessing that side of her would not only change how you saw her, but also influence your own self perception when the time came to take another life yourself. It was painful to imagine the countless amount of years you might spend plagued by inner turmoil, hating the person you would become even if it was inevitable. She’d die in a million more excruciating ways if it would shield you from such a curse.

“Andy, are you alright?” Your voice of concern brought her back to the present. There was a slight look of worry between your furrowed eyebrows that she wished to smooth out herself, but she practiced self restraint. 

“Sorry, I guess I’m a little tired too. If you want me to wake you before I leave then I will.”

With a satisfied smile on your face, you nodded and rose from your seat. The urge to ask Andy if she might join you tugged at your heart. You always slept more soundly when it was in her arms. Your nightmares were much more infrequent by now and it had been some time since you had been able to fall asleep while breathing in her scent, snuggling deep into her chest. The temptation to voice your request was almost impossible to resist, save for the fear of jeopardizing your friendship and making her uncomfortable by revealing your feelings. 

Eventually, you found yourself back in bed alone and replaying your conversation. One specific realization you couldn’t get over was that Andy had undoubtedly expressed some type of interest in the art you made of her. Sure, it’s possible that it might have been in a completely platonic sense, but you held onto the fantasy of it meaning something more and decided you’d keep it to yourself, for now.

[multifandommilfs]

COVETED

Relationship: Cipher x reader

Word count: 2987 characters

Warnings: blood, knives, gun, death, Cipher stuff, jealousy?

Summary: Jealousy plagues Cipher after finding out one of her (expendable) assassin makes moves on you (not expendable), she has to put them back in their place.

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"So let me just recap whatever the fuck happened yesterday. You tried to kiss my assassin. Compromised the mission. Caused a statewide hunt for us from your little romantic stunt- in the fucking getaway car!" She blew out a trembling breath, shoulders rigid from rage, knuckles white from gripping the edge of her desk. Then in another moment, she steeled her features, sitting back into her the chair that pushed against the underside of her knees.

"You know why I chose you for this mission?" She swiveled on the ergonomic chair pacifically, her elbows propped up on the armchair, fingers toying with the end of her plaits, no matter, her eyes never wavered from both you and your colleague who stood a life-fearing distance away on the other side of the table.

Her rhetorical question left an ominous stretch of silence where your colleague dug her nail into the base of the thumb, heel snuffing anxiously upon the floor, teeth piercing her bottom lip, she conveyed a gaze of unobscured panic through her eyes to you, so much for an assassin. How could you forget the deafening awkwardness when Cipher's voice came in through your earpiece during the ride home? Her tone shooting bullets after bullets into your minds defining the thinned out tolerance, it was understandable considering the shaft of sunlight burning into your lap that rooted from another assault resulting in an unintentional gunfire from your hands.

Cipher let out an exasperated breath. Leaving the slowly spinning chair as she rounded the table, her forefinger trailing over the smooth edges until she was right in front of the both of you, hands clasped before her as reclined back on the desk.

"I hired you to kill off that pest, that-" in a swift movement gripping your colleague's neck, you flinched as your colleague let out a choked yelp, hands shooting up Cipher's wrist in a backfiring attempt to loosen the grip.

"That was your one and only objective." She whispered with a sneer, downward curl by her lips, before her eyes locked with yours, a superior ferocity exuding, you caught the race of your heartbeat, the heat that ran under the layers of suit and skin caused perspire to prickle, you swallowed down your sympathy for how your colleague must fell, your eyes skimming to the silently brandished knife by her hand.

"Yet you blatantly defied orders, can't you even remember the contract you signed?" Suddenly the honed tip pierced the tender flesh of her underjaw, eliciting a whimper, fresh blood sliding down the blade. "I don't pay you to flirt with my prized assassin."

Then the blade withdrew and she approached you, her hot breath suffusing on your skin, a trail of goosebumps dragging in its wake. Her lips captured yours tentatively, nimble fingers traiing down your jaw as she relished the deliberate decision to make known her claim to someone who didn't know their place.

You gasped when a gunshot rang out in a cacophony, flinching away from her as blood splattered all across your cheek, seeping between your lips was salty and metallic, you retched instinctively, your heart wracking unrelentingly in your ears, heightened by the ladened thud at your feet. It revealed the shooter to be Connor in all his red bearded glory, the gun still directed right at you, hazy smoke curling off the muzzle.

You caught how her hair tinted with a weaving crown of red speckles before it passed your gaze. "Way to ruin the moment Connor." She drawled, spitting out the same blood you swallowed, her lips nipping your lower ones one last time, statement unmistakable to the unfocused audience dipped in blood.

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[perhaps-perhaps-not]

FANTOBER DAY 2 - FURIOSA

INSTAGRAM / COMMISSIONS OPEN!

[ssunkissedsunflowerss]

“Home is found within her arms”

Request by @camilaxmartin

hii! i'm not sure if your requests are open but if they are i've got a fluffy idea. maybe you could write something about reader being lady lesso's student and dating her in secret. (of course she's at the age that it's legal for her to date lesso) but one day reader is just in a terrible mood so lesso tries to make it better (in her own way) and maybe like not care anymore that they should be hiding their relationship and just wants to help the reader feel better? (I'm thinking about lesso not caring at the moment that a lot of students and even teachers {just dovey probably} notice they have something going on) i literally adore your writing and all of your fics. i hope you have a great day/night! love you! <3

funny story haha (frankly, i’m pissed) acupofqueercoffee is still shadowbanned and it being shadowbanned was like rain on my parade. now normally i love me some rain but this? geez it sucked me dry of motivation, and subsequently all the inspirations i’ve had for some of my fav characters too went down the drain 🙃

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Everyone has those kinds of days. Such days where the sweet serenades of birds may sound a little too boisterous, so you wake up feeling awfully groggy. Then, a cup of your morning coffee which is usually your saving grace may have been a little too hot, and since the universe has decided to make a mockery of you anyway, why not entertain her by burning yourself too?

So, instead of black orchids and dark butterflies splendidly backdropping you, storm clouds hang gloomily above you as you sit in class on a not-so-fine morning.

In the meantime, Lady Lesso is finding it odd and maybe a touch- oh who is she kidding, awfully unbecoming that her little vixen is not paying her any attention. You are completely immersed in the subject at hand, or so you appear to any onlooker. The evil dean, having mapped a good few inches of your body with her lips however, is not just anybody, far from an onlooker, and so, she knows. Your usual cheeky little grin along with a wink here and a blow of kiss there whenever the two of you lock eyes has been absent the whole morning. By the time the sun is directly overhead, and you have yet to maintain unabashed eye contact with her, let alone, blow her a kiss, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

When you find a bouquet of your favourite flowers on your desk, if only for a moment, your mind travels back to the conversation with your professor-girlfriend. It is the same conversation that eventually leads you to the conclusion that this beautiful and overly conspicuous bundle of sweet fragrance cannot have been from her. She has made it abundantly clear after all that your relationship is to remain strictly private. Although the flowers are rather painfully charming, and the scent, heavenly divine, the giver not being your lover takes all the glee and giddiness out of the equation. You do not want it if it is not from her, honestly cannot care less from whom it is. Hence, out the window and down into the moat, it goes.

It has come out of her lips themselves that public display of affections is highly inappropriate and therefore, strictly prohibited. And yet, here she is, finding it even more unacceptable the fact that you are making do without your sly little displays that are meant for her. They have wormed their way into her heart as have you. She is craving, according to herself, the very inappropriate itself. The irony is an eye-roll worthy.

During lunchtime, the dean deliberately plants herself in front of you, subsequently blocking your path out the main hall, but her intention may have flown over your head, for you navigate around to leave.

Uncaring of the many eyes observing the two of you, she catches you with the hook of her cane, pulling you back until your bodies collide.

“Something’s wrong. Now, speak.”

When the all too familiar voice that oozes charisma caresses your ears, your back is pressed against an equally familiar body. You look up, gaze into those arrestingly beautiful eyes.

“I’m in a terrible mood today is all.” Your sigh is received with a scoff. “Welcome to my world.”

A befuddling silence has befallen the hall. A silence so profound that if a pin is to drop, it will echo through the whole chamber. When you peek around the dean’s body, you understand why. All eyes in the hall are on the pair of you.

Immediately, you are jolted into action, moving away, or rather, trying but failing miserably to yank yourself out of firmly fixed arm that is twining round your waist with stubborn determination.

“What will remedy that?”

The query colours you slightly dazed.

“Wh- huh?”

“Your terrible mood.” Her voice is smooth when she explains, and smoother still as she repeats. “How can I remedy that?”

Thinking is not necessary. Your answer is immediate.

“Oh, well, you will not find my needs agreeable.”

“Oh?” Not only do you hear her voice, but you also feel it on the very tip of your ear. “Test me.”

“Forehead kisses and a hug. A hug alone is fine too, but preferably both.”

Although you are secretly hoping that she will meet your needs, a part of you is adamant that she will certainly refuse any kind of affectionate displays especially in public. All thoughts leave your head when she surprises you by swivelling you in her arms. And just like that, you find yourself engulfed in an embrace. She has as good as swept you off your feet, for only the very tips of your loafers remain touching the ground. Almost instinctively as if it is where it belongs, you bury your face into her chest, breathing her in, the scent of home. Your home.

“Are the flowers not to your liking?” She asks after a moment.

“Hmm, what flowers?” It takes you a while to think, but, as soon as the monstrosity of a bouquet comes rushing back into your head, so does the realisation. “Oh, no!”

The urge to dive into the moat and search the bouquet is all consuming. And you almost do, trying and yet again failing to disentangle yourself from your woman.

“Leave them be.” She says, cages you in her unwavering arms.

“But, they’re from you!”

“These, too,…” You feel her lips descending onto your forehead, peppering one, two, three kisses before you feel them move once more. “…are from me.”

As Lady Lesso stands with kiss-stunned little you snugly enveloped in her arms, she catches Dovey staring at them, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Her good counterpart seems to be totally oblivious to the fact that her teacup is overflowing with the tea that keeps pouring out of the teapot in her hands. There, too, sits Anemone moving to stop the teapot that keeps making a mess of their table, but once her eyes follow her friend’s and lands on the two of you, the evil dean watches, eyes teeming with cheeky amusement, as her jaw falls comically open.

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[vertigoartgore]

Charlize Theron as Furiosa in George Miller's Mad Max: Fury Road.