#good omens x labyrinth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monsterloverxxx · 7 months ago

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Minotaur x fem!reader

Plus sized Minotaur

MDNI

POV you have been sent into the minotaur’s labyrinth as a sacrifice, but your offering isn’t one of blood.

Monster-fucking/teratophilia, breeding kink/pregnancy kink, size kink/macrophilia/CNC

Groping, fingering, repeated PiV sex, pushing cum back in, some dom/sub dynamic.

Horror, gore

Dub-con (some non-con groping and grinding, wanted sex and consent but you’ve been put in that situation)

2080 words

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Offering to the Minotaur:

Nobody knows how long the beast has cursed them, some say he has been there since the beginning of civilisation, others the dawn of time; either way he has always hunted these lands.

Mostly he hibernates; but every time the fire-star lights up the inky sky he awakens for 12 moons. An insatiable hunger to consume controls him, a bloodlust only slaughter can satisfy.

To contain his devastation the leaders of these lands long ago decided to gift him sacrifices, offerings to an old brutal god. Innocent souls sent to death to appeal to the mercy of the monster; a barter for their people to be spared.

You look up at the crimson glow in the night, an omen for the blood that would soon spill from your veins. Praying to your deities will do no good, you will soon join them in the heavens and drink moonbeams from golden chalices.

It is dark and cold inside the labyrinth; you can feel the chill in your bones; or perhaps what you feel is fear, terror that curdles your insides.

Tall walls once white marble are now green with slime, moss and mushrooms growing on water that has degraded stone for thousands of years.

It is a maze, and you are already lost. You feel trapped, claustrophobic yet overwhelmed by the infinite expanse. Each step cannot be distinguished from the last, you are roaming in endless circles.

Your legs ache from running, the breath inside your chest burns, your heart pounding. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. You turn every corner aimlessly, hoping it will not be your last.

You could hear the others, their echoed footsteps like ghosts, screams of terror and cracks of bones as they were butchered one by one. But now you hear only deafening silence, you know you're the last one standing, it’s your turn to die.

You slip and land on jagged rocks, broken off ruins. Smearing mud on the bottom of your white dress and scraping your tired knees. As you pull yourself up you see him looming over you. Eight foot tall, the head of a strawberry bull, torso of a burly fat man and solid cloven hooves.

You’re frozen in fear, your brain screaming for you to retreat but your body unable to follow. He grabs you and picks you up like a ragdoll, throwing you over his shoulder. The ground is so far below you if he dropped you, you would crack.

“Please don’t kill me” you beg over and over, tears flowing down your cheeks onto his hairy naked back.

“Your offering is flesh” he responded in a deep leather voice as he carries you to his lair

You try so much to wriggle your way out of his arms, even though you know the fall will maim you.

He grabs you around your ass to keep hold of you, his big hands up your dress gripping your underwear. You still try to escape his grasp; but how his hand rubs up against you when you move, you don’t want to admit how that feels.

You believe he’s going to feast upon you. Cook you in a stew with the others, suck sweet meat off your bones, drink your brains out of your severed skull. You pray he would kill you first.

He throws you down onto a pile of straw and furs: his nest. Your head rings from the impact, your bones jolting.

Before you can crawl away, he hops in beside you. He snuggles up next to you pulling you into him, enveloping your body completely with his, his fur and fat keeping you heated. Your face is nestled into his sweaty chest, he smells like rot, the scent of the slain is suffocating.

You wonder if he did this to the others? Gifted them comfort before pulling them limb from limb and devouring their bodies?

He falls asleep cuddling you, snoring loudly. You try to worm out multiple times to no avail. Eventually you give into his soft warmth and fall asleep. How can a creature so brutal feel so plush and tender?

Even though you have no sense of time your body wakes up naturally to the dawn. So had he, you glance around the room, he is nowhere to be seen. Part of you misses his embrace but this was your chance to delay your inevitable end.

You get up and flee his throne room, bolting as fast as your bruised legs can take you. But you do not get far before you need to stop and catch your breath.

As you lean against bloodstained bricks, you can hear him charging you, a great thunderous sound of hooves. He snatches you up, swooping you into the air and over his shoulder once more.

You know it is over now, this was the conclusion of your life, you give up. There’s no point fighting anymore, ‘just kill me quick’ you think, at least grant you that.

He places you back onto the nest gently this time “Stay” he orders

You will.

“Eat” he demands hurling you a bone; you didn’t want to know what it came from or who.

“I’m not hungry” you lie, you are famished but not desperate enough

“Eat” he repeats again “You’ll need the energy”

“For what? So you can hunt me like a hound?” you ask

“No” he responds.

He locks a metal collar around your neck attached to a short chain “Stay, I will return, then you eat, you need energy”

As soon as he leaves you pull at the metal, it is taut and chaffing, rust from many hundreds of years crumbles off in red chunks. You don’t try to get it off, you don’t have the strength.

You wait for him patiently. It is probably close to dusk when the beast returns dragging a deer carcass behind him. The stag's mighty antlers scraped along dirt.

He tears its body apart like it is a simple piece of bread, guts spilling everywhere. He cooks it over flame and feeds it to you. You are ravenous gorging yourself on its flesh like he had done to your fellow sacrifices.

When you are done, he climbs back into his furs again and wraps you up once more. But this time is different, he isn’t there to rest, he craves another thing.

You can feel something pressed up against you, you recognise it. You realise what your purpose is, what he wants from you: something warm and tight for him.

He grinds into the outline of your ass, his face is nowhere near you, but you could hear huffed breaths from his bull ringed nostrils. The way it drags into you sends shivers through your body.

“What is my offering?” you ask

“You are a priestess” he responded petting your messy hair “Your body a vessel for the gods. I am your god.”

“Vessel for what?”

“My pleasure and my offspring” he answered

Your flesh wasn’t to consume, it was to use and abuse, to play with like a toy.

He pushes his hand up your dress, it brushes slowly against your skin, up your body until he roughly grabs one of your breasts, fondling it callously, you can’t help but sigh at his touch.

The white dress that hugs your curves so well, you now see is a wedding gown. You had been gifted as his wife, a slave to him, for his arcane desires.

Your fate is not to dance in the clouds to songs of starlight harps, it is to be split open night after night by a monster's cock, to birth his demonic calves.

He shoves you onto your back and hangs over you, he is massive compared to you, a giant. He grabs the top of your dress and rips it in half, stripping you down, naked and exposed for him.

You are scared yes, but part of you tingles, the wet between your thighs could not lie. He is a beast, he was going to tear your body apart from the inside out, but you have not felt the touch of a man since you had committed to the temple, and oh gods was he a man.

He removes his loincloth; you can’t help but stare at his magnificence. You feel a feral hunger for that huge thick rod hung between muscular legs, hard as the stone around you, dripping with tears of yearning.

“I want to mate with you my little priestess” he strokes your face; his hand is the size of your head.

You don’t know if that is a question or a statement, either way you aren’t going to try and stop him. Maybe it would kill you, but maybe it is worth the risk just to feel him inside you.

“Yes” you responded

“Beg” he ordered “Beg for your god to take you, beg for him to fill you with his seed”

“Please” you plead, pathetic “Please breed me, I am your toy, I am your slave, please use me, please ruin me, I want it so bad, I need you so bad, please”

“Good girl” he grabs you by the hips and flips you over pushing your face into his animal skins. He spreads your legs open as wide as they could go revealing the sweetness between them. He runs a large finger through your folds, gathering slick as lubrication, forcing it inside. You gasp at the penetration followed by soft mewls as he pushes it in and out, going down to his knuckles, checking how much you can take. If this is how good his hand felt, you salivate at the idea of what would come next.

You are so hungry for it by the time he pushes the head to your entrance. He struggles to fit, but he is not gentle, ramming it inside of you with great force skewering your tight cunt. He did not take time to get you used to his size slamming straight into your cervix. White hot pain clouds your head but is soon replaced with carnal ecstasy as he pulls most of the way out and rhythmically thrusts into you.

You take him so well, your walls stretching around him. It’s like your cunt is designed for his cock, the god’s constructing your body specifically for your beast husband, perhaps he had created you for this use. You do not care; you are happy with this fate.

He continues to rail into you, holding your body firm so he doesn’t break your small frame. You are full of him but only half of his shaft is inside. He wishes he could fully stuff you, that he could bottom out inside and his balls could feel your heat as well. But he has stretched you fully out, you cannot physically take any more of him, but he can still try.

He fucks you for what feels like eternity, your body and mind in the heavens. Both of your loud moans are a symphony, a song of lust for only the spirits to hear. Your eyes roll back as your walls squeeze so hard around him, he can’t stop himself from filling you up. His seed drools down your thighs as he pulls out of your spent hole. He catches it with his fingers and pushes it back inside to save it.

His digits in your bruised entrance stings, but when you whine, he starts fingering you again. You rock into his hand, 2, 3, 5 fingers work you open. His own cum escapes down his arm onto the straw.

He trades his hand with his meat again swollen from your arousal, pounding it into you until he has replaced his wasted sperm.

He takes you over and over, again and again, so many times you lose count. Your body is jelly, your mind mush, your pussy is throbbing. He stops only when you pass out from exhaustion, and you fall asleep nuzzled in him.

And then when you wake, he starts again, he’ll keep going until he knows you are with child, carrying his young. And he will use you for his pleasure until he hibernates once more. Maybe he will gift you immortality so you can be his wife for eternity, or maybe he’ll dispose of you when he grows sick of your pussy and your womb, you do not know...

#monster fucker #monster fudger #monster fuqqer #monster lover #terat0philliac #terato #monster smut #exophelia #minotaur #minotaur smut #macrophilia #fem!reader #minotaur x human #minotaur x reader #dubc0n #fatboy #fat belly #18+ mdni

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jeonginsleftcheek · 7 months ago

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Stray Kids with an S/O who is a huge horror movie fan

pairing: ot8 x gn!reader

genre: fluff

disclaimer: this is as always just my opinion :)

a/n: as a huge horror movie fan myself, I had to write this! enjoy!🩷

Chan:

As he said before, it's not like he's scared of horror movies, he just doesn't think they're interesting to watch. But, you're interesting to him and he loves you so he will definitely try for you. He also thinks he won't get scared cause 'nothing scares him' but oh boy was he wrong. You have to promise him extra cuddles because he's not gonna be able to fall asleep that night. Will also try to dissect the plot with you after the movie, and try to find meaning in the story just so it's less scary to him.

If he was never really invested into the horror genre, you could show him the classics like The Shining(1980), The Omen(1976), The Amityville Horror (1979), Psycho(1960) and then also some newer iconic movies like Get Out(2017), The Ring(2002), Sinister(2012), Hereditary(2018) and The Conjuring(2013).

Minho:

Loves it. Loves to try and scare you while you're watching a movie together. At first, you're so happy that you can share your love for horror with your significant other. And you know he really doesn't like jumpscares, so you try to find movies that don't have many of those. But if they do and Minho predicts a jumpscare, he'll grab you at the same time it's happening, making you jump out of your skin even though you saw the movie already. You kinda start regretting watching horror movies with him because he annoys you on purpose. He thinks you're so adorable when you're mad at him, but he wont push too far and he'll always make it up with cuddles and kisses later. Overall, 10/10 experience.

I feel like he'd watch almost any horror movie cause he's a curious cat (hehe) and you'd both share your favorites.

I don't know why, but I also feel like Minho would appreciate good old silent horror movies. I just think if he's a horror fan he may enjoy seeing the roots of horror. Like The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari(1920), Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde(1920), The Phantom Carriage(1921), Nosferatu(1922) and Häxan(1922).

Changbin:

I don't think he's too scared of them but I think he doesn't really care for them too much? Though, if you have some interesting thriller or detective movies to recommend he will definitely wanna watch them with you. I think Changbin likes a movie that has an intelligent story with a plot twist. He likes to guess what's gonna happen next and when he's actually right he'll be so happy and proud. He'll keep talking about how he guessed the plot and how smart he is and how you have to give him extra cuddles now. Either way, you're cuddling and snacking the whole time while watching and it's just nice and cozy.

I think he'd enjoy thrillers like The Game(1997), Fracture(2007), The Machinist(2004), The Double(2013), Shutter Island(2010), Zodiac(2007) and 1408(2007).

Hyunjin:

Miss him with that shit cause he ain't watching it unless you manage to coax him into it. It's gonna take a lot of persuading until he finally gives in but you have to be careful in choosing the right movie for Hyunjin. He doesn't like loud noises and he doesn't really like to feel scared. He'd rather watch something for the story, especially if it's an emotional one, and he also likes character driven stories.

I think he could watch artsy or slow creepy movies that are more drama-like but have elements of horror like Pan's Labyrinth(2006), Dark Water(2005), Windchill(2007), It Follows(2014), The Eyes Of My Mother(2016), I'm Thinking Of Ending Things(2020) and Case 39(2009).

Jisung:

Okay, with this one you can go crazy. Any weird horror movie, anything kinda disturbing, deranged or unhinged will be right up his ally. As a horror and anime fan himself, he's seen some pretty weird stuff so experiment, I guess. I also feel like he'd like fun horror movies, idk how to explain but ones that are disturbing but fun at the same time, like you can't look away even though you're looking at a train wreck.

Movies like Funny Games(2007), The Ruins(2008), Suspiria(1977), The Perfection(2018), Perfect Blue(1997), May(2002), Audition(2000), Saw franchise and Terrifier series would be fun for him. Also, since he mentioned Paranormal Activity, found footage horror movies would be fun to watch with Jisung too like Creep(2014), REC(2007), Unfriended(2015) and Cloverfield(2008).

Felix:

This is just not happening unless you can bribe him with cookies, gummies or any other sweets and ofcourse many cuddles and kisses, even more than you share usually. You'll have to practically beg him to watch a horror movie with you or make some kind of compromise that you'll participate in some activity he likes more than you later. He's not gonna sleep all night if you make him watch anything too scary, actually he wouldn't even be watching that. He'd probably be hidden in your neck the whole time and even the creepy sounds coming from the tv will give him nightmares.

The only way to make him watch horror movies is if they're mixed with comedy or they're so bad that they're funny. Like the Scream franchise, The Cabin In The Woods(2011), What We Do In The Shadows(2014), The Happening(2008), Tucker & Dale vs. Evil(2010), Housebound(2014) and ofcourse zombie comedies like One Cut Of The Dead(2017) and Shaun Of The Dead(2004).

Seungmin:

Kind of indifferent towards the scares but I think he gets annoyed with plot holes and characters acting stupid. Rolls his eyes at every over used trope or cliche sentence. You actually end up laughing while watching horror movies with him because he's too cute when he's annoyed.

"How is this killer still alive? He's been run over by a truck ten times, this is stupid!" or "Okay but why is he going towards the sound? Is he that dumb, he's gonna die!"

He does like dry humor though so he'd like some black comedy movies with horror elements like American Psycho(2000), Parasite(2019), The Lobster(2015), The Menu(2022) but also if you want to annoy him on purpose (because he's cute when he gets worked up) show him slashers like the Halloween franchise, Friday the 13th franchise and Black Christmas(2019).

Jeongin:

With Jeongin, I feel like it can go either way and it definitely depends on the theme of the movie. Also, he will probably try to act brave in front of you (until he jumps at a loud sound and then gets embarassed). For some reason I don't have an exact subgenre of horror for him but for some reason I feel like he'd like newer horror movies like Us(2019), Nope(2022), Last Night In Soho(2021), His House(2020), Host(2020), The Invisible Man(2020) and Fear Street film series.

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pricelessemotion · 6 months ago

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Labyrinth | Javy "Coyote" Machado

pairing: Javy "Coyote" Machado x fem!reader (prev Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!reader)

summary: [4k] Jake may be gone, but Javy isn't. The two of you navigate your lives and your grief. Together.

warnings: jake is dead, RIP jake, grief and mourning, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, sickfic moment, friends to roommates to ...?

a/n: coming out of my writer cave to post a tgm fic that nobody asked for. idk why I became obsessed with the idea of jake's widow!reader falling in love w javy but here we are! enjoy and lmk what you think <3

read on ao3 | navigation

Lieutenant Commander Jacob Michael Seresin died on a Tuesday morning. At least that’s what they tell you, you don’t remember much of the days and weeks surrounding his death.

You flip the funeral card in your hand, over and over and over again. No expense was spared. It’s textured cardstock with fancy but easily legible cursive font. It reminds you of your wedding invitations. The back is a picture of him in his dress whites, face unsmiling. The same dress whites he’s going to be buried in.

Lieutenant Commander Jacob Michael Seresin was called home

Funeral to take place at Graham's Memorial Home

Reception to follow

Called home. It’s such an interesting phrase. It suggests that he’s meant to be wherever he is now. That the house that you bought together, the plans that you made were all just a waiting room until Saint Peter called his name.

You never considered yourself particularly religious. Jake, being born and raised in Texas, was a god-fearing Christian man. He believed in heaven and an afterlife. You’ve always been on the fence.

The day of the funeral, there isn’t a cloud in the sky. You want to scream and laugh at the same time but the only sound that escapes your mouth is a strangled gasp that has Javy taking you into his arms. It had rained on your wedding day. Poured would be a more accurate description. The officiant said he had never seen that big of a meteorological turnaround in all of his forty years of weddings. Due to California existing in a near-constant state of drought, there simply wasn’t the infrastructure in place to support the torrential downpour. Most of your guests had been left stranded in other states, their flights being put on a constant loop of rescheduling and then cancellation.

You thought it was a sign. An omen. Now you wonder if maybe it was.

Jake had simply shaken his head and laughed. He was never one for superstitions. It’s what made him a good pilot. He relied on skill and instinct. He said that there was no way in hell that a little water was going to get in the way of him marrying the love of his life.

His mother lightly smacked him on the bicep for using such language in a house of god, before subsequently melting and muttering how she must’ve done something right.

You think that this unnatural weather must’ve been his doing. It had been overcast and depressing all week. Or at least, as far as you could tell from your brief moments of lucidity before descending back into a fugue state. You know that he always hated the days that were few and far between when the weather would be too bad for him to properly run drills or train new recruits.

You loved the man more than anything. He always reminded you of the sky, the way he took you to heights that you had never even imagined before. Still, despite the thrill and the rush of adrenaline, all you could think about was the fear of falling.

Husbands and children have been left back in Texas. Jake’s mom and sisters have taken over the house. There’s not a dish left unwashed nor a basket of laundry left unfolded. You've eaten more casserole in the last week than you have before in your entire life. The fridge is filled to the brim with tin foiled pans that people will probably want back but won't bother asking for if they don't. Despite the array of choices, they all taste the same. Ashen and tasteless is the I’m-sorry-your-husband-died special.

The house is more lively than it usually is, with four Seresin women milling around. You see him in them. In the quirk of their mouths, the tilt of their heads when they’re thinking about something, the hard line of their jaws when they hold back their tears. You can barely look his mother in the eyes because they’re his.

They try to take you everywhere with them. Trips to the grocery store and walks around the neighborhood are treated as milestones when you spend most days unable to get out of bed.

On one of the drives, you can’t remember which one or even where you were heading to they all seem to blur together in the end, you passed by a car wash. Jake would usually handle all the car stuff himself, but he told you to go here when he was on deployment because it was the only place that didn’t upcharge for ridiculous shit. They have one of those inflatable tube men outside. Waiting at the intersection for the light to turn green, you’re stuck looking at him.

When they do finally leave, it's with little fanfare. They remind you of the food in the fridge and the local bereavement group they found. Kisses on cheeks are exchanged and you stand like one of those inflatable tube men at the end of the driveway, mechanically waving goodbye.

Once the cars are gone from view, it’s like someone’s turned off the fan that’s kept you upright. You crumple to the ground.

–

Javy tries his best to decode the text that you sent him while his phone had been in his gym locker. The series of texts seems to get more and more incoherent as time went on. He was used to this by now. He had told you that you could talk to him about your grief at any time and that he would always be there for you.

Which is how Javy comes to find you here.

You’re on the ground outside. Green California grass caresses your fingertips, despite the near-constant state of drought. You know you came out here to look at the stars but closed your eyes when you could feel the Earth spinning.

You feel like the two-headed calf because there are twice as many stars as usual. The Earth spins at a rate of 1,000 miles per hour. You swear, right there in the grass, that you can feel every single mile. You’re holding on for dear life.

“Jake said that when he was a kid, he used to believe that stars were actually holes in the sky. The white light that came through was Heaven. He used to sit on the grass and look up and dig his fingers into the dirt. ‘Said he was scared that if he let go he’d float away.”

Javy only hums in response. Slowly, his left hand nudges your right one. The warmth of his palm covers you and despite yourself, despite marring and ripping apart the beautiful meticulously cared-for lawn, you let go.

When your hand rises to meet his, it’s not without a few casualties. Blades of grass are plucked from the ground making snapping sounds like muffled guitar strings. It’s the saddest sound you’ve ever heard.

–

“I’m thinking about selling the house.”

The words hang in dead air. There’s a slight pause in Javy’s movements. From behind, you can see the muscles beneath his flannel tighten up before they relax again. He resumes stirring his coffee, the spoon hitting the sides of the ceramic mug with muted ting ting ting sounds.

The mug itself is UT Austin merch from many moons ago. It’s Jake’s favorite. Or at least, it was Jake’s favorite. The mug used to remind you of quiet Sunday mornings and waffles for two. Now it just reminds you that he drank from it and put it in the dishwasher, thinking that he would get another Sunday, another cup of coffee.

You’re not mad at all that Javy is using it. On the contrary, you’re glad that the mug is being used for its purpose. That it’s not being memorialized and thus, rendered functionally useless. It drove you crazy to see it sitting in the cabinet collecting dust, but you refused to be the one to drink from it. It’s good that this memory of him is momentary and not a monument.

Javy takes a long sip from his mug, cradling it in both hands as he leans into the kitchen counter behind him. “When you say thinking what do you mean?”

Javy knows you too well. He knows that if you’re telling him about it, then it’s pretty much already decided. You’ve gone about every major decision in your life this way. You research and refine results until you’re sure that the way you’ve chosen is the only way forward. It’s how you decided that being with Jake was worth the risk of losing him.

You never said that it was a foolproof system, just that it was the system you’ve always used.

“I mean that I’ve already gotten the house appraised and have been talking to a realtor. She thinks we could list it and sell it before the year is out.”

Javy blows out a breath, puffing out his full lips. He swirls his coffee cup once, twice before taking a sip and asking, “Are you sure that this is what you want?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I can’t–” Your voice thickens until it breaks, the words brittle. I can’t keep living in a haunted house.

Javy nods, taking another sip before setting the cup down on the counter and saying the last thing you expected, “Move in with me.”

–

Moving out occurs with very little fuss. The other daggers drop in and out, taping boxes and dropping them off at Goodwill per your request, but everyone seems to be keeping a respectful, yet unnecessary distance.

Before you even touched a single cardboard box, Javy went from room to room and photographed everything. From the arrangement of the magnets on the fridge to the clutter on your bedside table. He insisted that one day these would be memories to hold back on. That it wasn’t the house's fault that it was haunted. That sometimes ghosts don’t have to haunt you.

You’re beyond the point of sentimentality anymore. If you were, you’d still be catatonic on the couch, refusing to sleep in the bedroom you once shared with your husband. Everything is objective. Every dish is just a dish and not the first real set of glassware that you bought for the house after eating off of paper plates when the movers accidentally dropped the boxed marked kitchen FRAGILE off the side of the truck.

You’re glad that all of the Christmas ornaments are still boxed up in the attic. There’s one in particular that you loved. The one that you put on the tree first every single Christmas. It was the ornament Jake got you when you first got together. A silly little reindeer.

You’ve mostly gotten everything out of the kitchen now. The shelves are bare and now you will once again have to resort to paper plates and plastic forks until this move is over. You haven’t seen your new roommate–God, it’s still weird to think of him like that–in a while so you tentatively call out his name.

“Javy?” Your voice is rough from hours of speechless focus. It cracks and breaks the silence of the house like a pebble on a windshield.

He doesn’t respond. You call out again, removing your gloves and moving towards the staircase. The door to Jake’s office is left ajar. Javy volunteered to pack up the room and you let him without a fight. Jake didn’t spend too much time in his office when he was home. Honestly, you think it might’ve saddened you more to see his legal pads and his sticky notes with reminders that he’ll never get the chance to forget.

You knock, easing the door open and softly calling out Javy’s name before you stop. There he is in the middle of the floor, head to his knees, back shaking with silent sobs. You crumble immediately. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and feel his wet face causing the fabric to stick to your collarbone. You don’t care.

It occurs to you that the roles have finally been reversed. All these months, you’ve been so grateful for Javy’s steadiness. His immovability. You thought his lack of tears had been because he was processing his emotions in a way that was different than yours. You thought maybe he was better at compartmentalization than you were. And maybe that was true.

You look around the room, hoping to find the catalyst for what caused this breakdown. Maybe there was a picture from the good old days, or an old card that Jake always meant to give him but never remembered to. But looking around, you come up empty. That’s when you realize that it’s not one single thing that set Javy off. It’s everything. It’s the dust on the keyboard. It’s the stale air. It’s the way the calendar on the wall has an X drawn through every day and then stopped in the middle of June. It’s the World War II book that has a bookmark placed so close to the end, you wonder if Jake was leaving the epilogue until after he came home from work.

It’s been hours since Javy made his way up here. The two boxes he brought with him sit flat behind the door. They haven’t even been folded out.

So you just sit there with him, rocking slightly back and forth. This continues until he leans back and spreads himself out on the carpet, not unlike the way you did all those months ago in the backyard. You burrow into his side, your ear pressed to his heart, paying attention to the furious tempo. You lay there until the hiccups in his breathing cease and the rise and fall of his chest is as rhythmic as waves crashing on the San Diego shore.

–

“You can lay down, y’know? This is your couch after all.” The gray L-shaped sectional is more than big enough for both you and Javy, who has been trying and failing to stay upright for the past twenty minutes.

“First of all, this is our couch. Second of all, I will lay down thank you for offering.”

He starts out perpendicular to you. His large frame takes up most of the sofa cushions. Though it can’t be comfortable for an extended time, he stays propped up on his elbow, making jokes about whatever's on TV. His exhaustion starts to take over and his elbow slips, one, two, three times. He always catches himself before his head drops too far, agile and responsive even when fighting sleep.

You know you can’t outright offer it to him, so you go for the next best thing. Leaning back, you shift your position until your blanketed thigh is touching his bicep. From there, it’s only a matter of time until Javy gives in to the sands of time and his head falls into your lap.

You’ve missed this, you realize. There are a lot of things that you miss about Jake, specifically. But this, the simple act of being close to someone. The simple choice to be there for someone else to lean on. Joy and guilt are like lightning and thunder. When one comes the other will soon follow.

You think about this from the outside looking in. Javy coming home, kissing your cheek, telling you about his day. Him cooking dinner while you do laundry. You doing the dishes while he does the crossword. The two of you, lying down on the couch after a long day and watching television together. The scene is exceedingly domestic in a way that makes your cheeks tingle and your chest ache.

Your left thumb instinctually goes to caress the base of your ring finger, only to come up empty. Your heart drops to your stomach. Then, you remember. You always take off your rings when doing the dishes. It was best practice, to make sure that the delicate gems wouldn’t get unnecessarily tarnished. You’d never once forgotten to put them back on, though.

You linger on the absence of the rings and the presence of the man sleeping soundly right beside you. Joy and guilt. Lightning and thunder.

–

There are large hands around your waist. Lips flush against the skin of your neck, murmuring and muttering words of praise and astonishment. Those hands slip lower and lower, rucking up the hem of your nightgown to your waist. Calloused fingertips brush the junction of your thighs and you feel heat licking up your center.

Look at me while you come for me, baby.

You do look up, mind overtaken by heat and lust and longing. Your breath catches in your throat. You know this jawline. You know these lips. You know that voice.

Say my name.

Your mouth goes to form the word but you lose yourself in huffs of breath and twisted sheets. You wake, just as you hit your peak. The sound that was so difficult to make in your dream state emerges from your mouth, watery and wanting.

Javy.

–

You spend the next three days locked in your room. You take all your meals to go, even though you can see the disappointment on Javy’s face every time you do. Disappointment you only see when you are confident that you can look at him without bursting into flames. The opportunity is few and far between these days. He’s always in the background. Asking if you’d like to accompany him to the store or go on a hike. Your answer is always the same.

Your forced solitude only lasts for another two days before Javy politely knocks on your door and enters your room. You mumble out a lackluster greeting barely looking up from your laptop or your desk. There’s a water stain near your left wrist, a circular ring that matches the bottom of your favorite mug.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re avoiding me?”

Maybe you should get a coaster. Civilized people used coasters, didn’t they? Civilized people used coasters and went hiking and did not have sex dreams about their dead husband’s best friend.

Javy says your name. It sounds weary. Like he’s approaching a wounded deer, hoping that she’ll let him near her before she goes running off into the forest to bleed out alone.

He sighs and sits on the edge of your bed, keeping a respectful distance. The mattress dips under the weight of him.

“Is it because we’re living together now? Do you—“ He clears his throat and suddenly, despite being well over six feet tall, he looks small. “Do you regret moving in together?”

You realize now that you’re not the deer. Javy is. He was living a fine and peaceful existence before you showed up with a shotgun and a need for flesh.

His question is tentative. Bleeding out in a forest alone doesn’t sound so bad, all things considered.

“No!” You blurt out your answer so fast it almost startles you. You take a moment, “No that’s not it at all.”

“Then what is it? Is it something I did?”

“Not exactly.”

“It’s just–God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this–I had a dream.”

“Like a nightmare? You know you can talk to me about those–”

“Not that kind of dream.” Javy had been helpful with nightmares in the past. He knew how to calm you down, especially when you realized that waking up didn’t necessarily mean that the nightmare was over.

He sits there, earnest and sympathetic and terribly understanding in a way that you don’t deserve and don’t know if you can handle right now.

“It was a sex dream.” You breathe out, cheeks hot and fists rumpled in your bedsheets.

“Oh. Oh.”

You both sit in silence for a moment. Javy decides to break it.

“Was it– Was I–” He tries so hard to make the words come out, but nothing does. His hands rest on his thighs and he furrows his brows and directs his gaze to the carpet.

“I think it was because we’ve been around each other so much. And obviously, it’s been a while.”

Javy agrees with you because of course he does. You try to breathe some lightness into your tone, anything to battle this heaviness that’s sunken into the conversation. “It’s crazy how the human brain works, right?”

Javy’s eyes drop to your lips, but only for a second. He smiles politely and bows his head in subtle agreement. “It is crazy.”

–

Flu season passes through San Diego like a plague. It seems every week, another one of your coworkers is out, whether it be their own health in distress or their children’s. It was only a matter of time before it came to you.

Despite having gotten your flu shot, you experience probably the worst bout of sickness in your life. You’re bundled up on your bed, fluffy robe with the drawstring pulled tight. Javy is hovering in the hallway–because that seems to be his neutral state of being these days, hovering. He dares not to open the door because of your self-imposed quarantine. You’ve created an imaginary moat of used tissues and dirty clothes, all to protect the fire-breathing dragon that is your feverish body.

“If you don’t go, I will strangle you.” You threaten, though it comes out weak and nasal.

“I can always reschedule–”

“You’ve been rescheduling on this girl for two weeks! I’ll be fine, I promise! I’m probably just going to watch old episodes of New Girl until I pass out from exhaustion.”

“Fine, but if you need anything–anything at all–just text me or call me.”

You verbally push Javy out of the door with more assurances and less thinly veiled threats. Things have been awkward between the two of you since your confession. You’re almost relieved at your sickness and the way it has allowed you to avoid more unnecessary face-to-face contact. At least that’s what you tell yourself. But when you hear the front door shut and the sound of Javy’s engine starting up, you look around the room. Running your hands over the wrinkled bedding, a feeling almost like loneliness settles over you.

–

It was an unfortunate ending to a mild evening. A broken Javy crackled over the speaker before he was speeding his way across town.

You’re shivering by the time he reaches you. Which makes no sense because you’re so hot that Javy hisses when his palm touches your clammy forehead. He’s about to scoop you up and load you into the back seat of his car when you come to. You murmur and whine and he tells you that he’s got you and he’s here. He explains that he’s gonna take you to the hospital and that seems to be the only thing that breaks you out of your feverish state because you open your eyes and tell him No hospital.

He’s lucky that the upholstered lounge chair in the corner of your room is as comfy as it is because that’s where he stays for the rest of the night. He holds a cold damp cloth to your forehead, murmuring apologies when you whimper at the disorienting change in temperature. He routinely uses a thermometer, because damn your wishes if it means that you die in this bed on his watch. Your fever stays just below the concerning range and it isn’t until 4 am that it finally breaks.

Only then does Javy let himself fall asleep.

You wake up weak and disoriented. Javy pulled up the chair from the corner of the room to right next to the bed. After a bowl of soup, he convinces you to take a bath and changes out your sweat-soaked flannel sheets for fresh ones straight from the dryer.

“Oh my god, your date! I’m so sorry—“

Javy waves you off with a wave and a gentle dismissal. He insists it’s fine. That there was no spark anyways.

It’s not until you’re tucked under the covers with half a cup of tea on your nightstand that he slips into the hallway and sends out a text.

Had a lovely time last night.

I just don’t think I’m in the right headspace for a relationship right now.

I hope you understand.

#top gun maverick #javy coyote machado #javy machado x reader #javy machado #javy machado fanfiction #jake seresin angst #jake seresin x reader #javy machado oneshot #javy coyote machado oneshot #javy coyote machado x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction

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witch-hazels-musings · 1 year ago

Text

Chivalry

warning: princess!reader, knight!character (slight AU* Prince and Princess) | sfw | age mention: 23 (Reader) | angst* (due to different social statuses, reader confinement/isolation, reader is kidnapped & rescued (bound, eyes covered, put in a small box), kaeya is beaten T.T), comfort* (happy ending yayayay) | forbidden love | pre-relationship | kissing!

Knight!Kaeya x fm reader | anthology (Albedo, Jean - coming soon)

You hung your head low, avoided the piercing eyes of the nosey, curious bystanders who happened to be around every time you were. Your life was placed on a pedestal, cast in a light so bright you wanted to shed your skin and melt away.

To the kingdom you were its ‘gift from the heavens’. A miracle, a good omen. A precious gem whose luster should never be tarnished. And for that you were locked away.

You were more like a prisoner than a princess. Albeit a gilded one.

You were already trapped but as you walked to the grand hall with an escort of polished maids, you were headed to suffocation.

“Sir Kaeya Alberich, do you vow to fulfil your duty of protecting the Princess no matter the stakes.” You watched as the King, your father, towered above the blue-haired knight who knelt before him. You hardly paid attention. Instead, you put on your practiced face while your mind ran through the fields of the kingdom you’d never see. Something moved to your right. Automatically you straightened your back and lifted your head at the feeling of your mothers sharp eyes.

“My vow is my seal, your majesty,” the knight spoke. His hand moving to his chest but he didn’t raise his head.

“You are not originally a ward of my kingdom, for this reason I see fit to mark any failure as punishable by death.”

His statement hung heavy in the hall. Murmurs from nobles passed around ivy decorated pillars, gasps rose in front of golden dishes holding food no-one touched. Your chest tightened; why would anyway agree to those terms. One person couldn’t possibly be that important. You frowned and hoped your mother didn’t notice.

“I understand,” the knight said and you fought back an expression of disgust.

“So be it,” the King snapped his fingers and the room stilled. You rose from the cushioned chair beside the Queen while a maid fussed with your long, elegant dress. “Rise, Sir Alberich.”

Kaeya Alberich lifted off his knees and you took him in for the first time. His complexion was tanned, he had waist-length hair that was tied off to the side, the ponytail falling over his left shoulder in waves of cobalt and azure. His armor of silver reflected the dangling crystals that hung about the gold-lined windows in the hall. Over his right eye was a black eyepatch that was shrouded by his bangs. Kaeya was, without a doubt, handsome, and you found the juxtaposition of his hue against the narrow, red rug beneath him striking.

The knight made eye contact with you so you looked at your hands.

The King called for you to stand at his side. As trained, you moved like fluid to reach him, made sure your expression was serene like the paintings of your likeness lining the castle walls. “From henceforth, you will be the sword, the shield, the protector of our kingdoms greatest asset. Should harm befall her, so too shall it you.”

“I will guard her with every breath,” he affirmed with a nod but when he lifted it just enough to look your way, you swore he winked at you.

The room erupted in polite applause. You felt the hand of your mother against your back as she glided down from her seat as if to display her love for her daughter. You, however, looked on and did your best not to cry.

After the ceremony ended, you were escorted back to your bedchambers with one extra in tow. Your new personal knight walked silently behind the entourage of attendants. His armor clinging and echoing in the hall was the only indication he was even there.

The labyrinth between the main castle and your hidden quarters made the already oppressive atmosphere thicker. Your gown was thin but you felt weighted down by it.

“Wait here,” the head maid instructed your new guardian before she closed the door in his face and assisted you with changing. Your mother had instructed them to never keep you in the same clothes for long. There were days you’d have on upwards to nine different outfits just to satisfy her. The Queen’s own personal doll.

When they were finished, you were wearing a flowing gown that spilled out behind you when you walked. It showed bits of your back, which you hated, and had strands of translucent fabric coming off your chest connecting to golden bracelets around your wrists. It was a hue of your least favorite color. You looked at your reflection and tried to be happy.

The head maid shooed the others to other duties while she took it upon herself to let the patient knight back in.

“You are not allowed to be close to the princess,” she barked as he stepped into the room; too far for her liking. Kaeya looked down at her which made her fluff up like a mother hen. If there was anymore more protective than Lila, you didn’t want to know.

“It’s alright, Lila, I’m sure he was vetted thoroughly. Were you not?” You appeared from behind a tall, viridian green divider that had carved scenes of landscapes you’d seen only in picture books. The shoes one of the maids tied to your feet clacked against the marble floors, drawing the knight and your maid’s attention. Sir Alberich took you in for so long you had to cross your arms and cough to get him to answer you.

“I can assure you I will bring no harm to the Princess,” he answered, more to Lila than to you but his focus never left you. Suddenly, he bowed for a proper introduction, “Kaeya Alberich, pleased to make your acquaintance. As professed prior, I will ensure your safety or my life take me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Please, I’m not worth that level of commitment.”

“Princess!” Lila screamed as she rushed over to you. She took your hand and smacked it, “do not say such things,” she hit your fingers again making the tips sting. “I will not hear it! What would your mothe-”

You watched as Sir Alberich snatched Lila’s wrist before it could fall one more time. The action stole your breath and made both you and your maid stumble.

“Ah-ah, this won’t do,” he tisked, a gentle smile on his lips even though the eye you could see said something different. “I can’t let you continue with such violent actions. If you wish to hit someone, I will take her place,” Sir Alberich offered his hand by placing it above your own. Lila, understandably frustrated and taken aback released you before taking several steps away.

“I-I will check on your mid-day meal ,my lady,” she huffed, adjusting her skirt as she stumbled toward the door.

“None for me?” He called to her but she was already gone. “How cruel,” he chuckled, turning his attention to your warm fingers. Using a gentle touch, he lifted them. One palm above and below and soon the heat started to fade into a cool, localized chill.

“How’s that?” He asked. You were painfully aware how close he was to you. A shiver ran up your arms.

“F-fine.” You’d never met someone who could manipulate the elements like this. Of course you’d heard of vision users, but no one you’d come into contact with held one. If they did, it was kept a secret.

“Delightful,” he hummed as he looked at you. “Mm, that’s better,” he said as he removed one of his hands so he could see your fingers. He had gloves on but you could still feel the warmth of his palm.

“T-Thank you, Sir Alberich.” Pulling your hand to your chest, you tried to hide the way it trembled. When was the last time a man touched you?

“Kaeya,” he corrected, catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Kaeya, Princess,” he explained, emphasizing a little too sweetly on the title you had. The corner of his mouth lifted higher the more uncomfortable you became.

“I ... That would be improper. B-Besides,” you shook your head, taking another step back not noticing you were nearing the shallow steps that led further into your bedroom. “I barely know you.”

“Hmm, that may be true,” he said taking a step toward you. Rubbing his chin, he thought for a moment. “A compromise then.”

“... compromise?”

“In public you can address me however you’d like. Sir Alberich, Sir Knight, my loyal protector,” he teased, playfulness written all over his face. He chuckled and your cheeks grew warm, “but in private, call me, Kaeya.”

“I couldn’t --” you stammered, moving backward as he approached. It was strange, you didn’t feel threatened but you somehow knew it was dangerous to let him get closer.

“It seems we are in private right now, Princess,” he noted, scanning the room. “Come on, give it a try.”

“Sir - Sir Alb-” you put out your hand as you fell backward, tripping over the steps you forgot existed. Unsurprisingly, he caught you. His hand wrapped expertly around your arm, the other pressed against your lower back as he pulled you away from danger. When you were stable, he let you stand on your own.

“What were you saying?” He smirked, not letting you escape even though he technically wasn’t holding you hostage.

Your fingers dug into the fabric about your chest. Your heart was pounding and you felt light-headed. Nervous, you scanned the room but found it was only you and your knight.

“K-Kaeya,” you mumbled. Saying his name felt like a violation of etiquette. It made your ears ring but when you stole a peek at him, your world shifted color.

Kaeya reached for your hand, his thumb brushed over your fingers, the fingers he had protected moments ago. “My Princess,” he whispered above them before placing a kiss to the tips of your nails. He lingered there for what felt like forever. You found it hard to breathe. “There, easier than you expected, hmm?”

He rose to his full height and you pulled your hand away. The sound of rushing footsteps, no doubt belonging to your head maid, echoed just outside the hall.

“If y-you’ll excuse me,” you stammered and practically ran to the washroom praying, for once, someone would give you five minutes of privacy.

Day’s turned into weeks, weeks into months, and you and Kaeya settled into an easy rhythm. Or as easy as it could be. Most of your days were boring. You weren’t allowed to wander around the castle without permission. Even going to the private library had to be passed through channel after channel. You thought getting a personal guard would make it easier for you to live a ‘normal’ life; what a lie that turned out to be.

You hated the rules, hated the expectations; so, naturally, a person born without them would find this secluded lifestyle miserable - Kaeya never complained. Not once did you see him huff or roll his eyes at the state of your life. Instead, he moved about it with ease. Made jokes and had fun even if you found it difficult. He seemed to even have fun with you. The days didn’t seem so lonely with him around.

Maybe whatever duty he had before being whisked away to be your knight was tedious or dreadful - this, probably, seemed like a walk in the park.

Nothing bad ever happened save for an accidental cut when being fitted for a new dress, of which twenty new ones were on their way, or a burn from eating something too hot. Otherwise there were rumored threats that came your way. Threats you weren’t aware of until your father dished out hoards of the kingdoms wealth on a suitable protector for you. Kaeya was not the first knight you were given in your life.

Once, you stumbled on one of the ‘so-called’ letters when you were waiting for your mother to finish getting ready. It was sticking out of the edge of her journal. Your heart was racing as you read it, not because of the contents, more for being caught with something you weren’t supposed to see.

Your parents shielded you from every possible threat but they couldn’t understand how that level of protection harmed you mentally. Their obsession with your safety had turned into chains, their promises of a good life were rose-tinted and flimsy. They wanted a child so badly, but they forgot why the moment you were born.

Slowly, you pulled your attention away from the book in your lap. You’d read the story multiple times, ran your fingers over the pages that had been stolen so you wouldn’t be hurt by the scenes that played out on them. You tried to imagine what the characters went through, what occurred during their forced time-skip. Your ideas changed over the years until you realized it didn’t matter anyway.

Gazing through the thick, crystal glass in your conservatory, you watched sheets of water glide over the other side. You reached out and touch it but felt only cold. Around you the aroma of exotic flowers filled the space, forgotten food lay untouched on a silver tray. There were ample places for you to sit, but you always chose the one closest to the windows. Maybe one day you’d finally break through them.

“Princess,” Kaeya’s voice interrupted your thoughts. When you twisted to look at him he froze in the doorway. His brows bunched up, eyes narrowed as he made his way toward you. With ease he sat in the empty space in front of you. The long day bed creaked at his weight, you moved your legs to avoid touching him.

Kaeya pulled off his glove.

Your gaze grew distant.

Kaeya cupped your cheek and slowly brushed away your tears.

You faded away.

And while you slept beside him, he looked through the distorted glass as his bare fingers brushed through your well-kept hair.

On the night of the new moon, everything changed.

You awoke to find yourself tied up and alone, headed to a place you didn’t know. The threats that were just rumors had finally come to fruition. While the kingdom slept, infiltrators acted their plan.

You overheard their conversations through the bindings they tied around your head. Bleeding arguments seeped through the wrappings you were sure had torn out chunks of your hair. For a while you thought it was a dream until rough hands picked you up and threw you against splintering wood. Whoever they were, they were in a hurry.

“L-Lock it already!” One stuttered, their tone tense and anxious.

“I’m trying,” another said and soon you heard the sound of a lock falling in place. Lifting up, you rammed your head into the celling and fell back down with a heavy thud. Were you in some kind of crate? You stretched but couldn’t extend your legs completely. If your hands weren’t tied behind your back you might be able to feel around. For now you’d do your best to loosen the bindings.

“-- money --!”

“Hahah, we’re --- good for ---”

“--- keep her who knows --- much - make -”

Straining to hear, you picked up even less of their conversation than before. From what you could gather, they just wanted to hold you long enough to get a hefty ransom. You hoped that’s all they wanted. At some point you began to shiver the longer the cart you were in rocked back and forth.

“-- that?” The cart slowed causing you to roll into the side of your small enclosure.

“huh?”

“-- hear th-- AH!” Horrible cries erupted around you. The world outside was so foreign to you that every nightmarish thought you ever had ran through your mind. Their screams grew louder, more guttural, until they stopped as soon as they started.

Tossing in the small space, you wondered if you should make noise or not. If these thieves were attacked by other thieves, would they search the cart only to find you? Would they look over whatever container you were in and let you die alone and afraid. You struggled against your bindings - if it was another threat, having your hands ready might give you the edge you needed.

The cart jostled violently. The creak of a door sounded more like metal bending by enormous force. The lock you heard earlier strained against something before shattering. You scratched up your arms but managed to free your hands. Shifting to your back, you prepared your legs and hands for a fight.

A gust of chilly night air hit you and you launched forward hopeful you were attacking whatever had come to steal your life. Strong hands grabbed you so you thrashed against them.

“GET OFF! LET GO OF ME!” You shouted in the darkness until something ripped the binding off and you could see the face of your attacker.

Kaeya’s face appeared in the shade of the night sky. His complexion looked wrong, unlike him, there was panic in his eyes that didn’t ease even when you said his name. You relaxed, looked past him and saw an arm extended in the dirt.

With expert strength, Kaeya scooped you up. His body shaking as he held you to his chest, as he walked away from the cart so you couldn’t see what he had done to those who stole you from him, as his hand pressed against the back of your head. Your feet dangled over the musty earth while your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You’re alright,” he breathed against into your hair. Repeated the words until they became nothing but mumbling noise.

“You came for me,” you said and tightened your grip.

“You thought that I wouldn’t?” His question had the cadence of a joke but his trembling voice betrayed him. Carefully he set you on the ground and began to look you over. His jaw clenched when he saw the state of your wrists, his eye turned a shade darker when he noticed the cut on your cheek.

“They’re just small injuries, that’s it,” you tried to reassure him but that didn’t seem to work. He was raging, you could tell.

Tenderly, you brushed the hair on his brow. You meant to comfort him but instead you did something else. Kaeya pushed you back until you bumped into the sturdy tree-trunk. His fingers snagged your wrist before brining it to his lips so he could kiss the bruises starting to form.

“... kaeya ...!” you pushed against him, confused and overwhelmed by the sensation. He had been touchy with you before. A wandering hand at your back, a playful shake of your head as he held your chin when you didn’t listen, sat a bit too close while you were working on something, but this. Never this.

Kaeya grabbed your other wrist. Bounced back and forth with his affections while you slid further down the tree.

It was difficult to breathe. Why was he doing this?

“ ... sir ... sir ka-”

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, appearing in front of your face so fast your head bounced back, startled. “Not yet,” Kaeya leaned in and kissed you, his hands holding your own to his chest while he pushed into your lips with his. You felt dizzy, heart fluttered.

When he finally pulled back you were gasping. It was so hard to focus on anything but him.

“I serve you --” he whispered above your lips, the caress of them as he spoke tickled and made you shiver. “Tell me to stop.” A shock went down your spine. Looking at his face you noticed how his gaze was locked on your lips. “Tell me -” he pleaded, desperate, desire dripping of him. You knew what to say, knew what was expected but knowing the feel of his lips made your will distorted.

“d-- s-stop --” the words bubbled on your lips. You heard them but it didn’t sound like you; that wasn’t what you thought you’d say. Kaeya moved closer only to pull back moments later. You stumbled at the absence of him and tried to catch your breath.

Kaeya, jaw clenching, ran his hands through his hair before turning his back to you. For a moment, the two of you were silent. Composing yourselves with whatever strength you had.

“We aren’t far from the castle.” He eventually said, voice back to normal. The honeyed tone covering each word. “We need to return now before the King sends out his whole army.” He turned, extending his hand toward you. “Can you walk?”

“ ... yes.”

“Ready when you are,” he said and you took his hand even though it was torturous to your heart. What did his actions really mean -- and how could either of you go back now that you knew what the other tasted like?

The two of you returned you to the castle in the early morning but the comfort of the stone walls soon turned into a nightmare as royal guards ripped the two of you apart and drug Kaeya to be reprimanded while you struggled in vain to stop them.

Your mother held your bruised wrist so tightly you swore it would break all the while you’d be forced to watch as several guards beat Kaeya. You weren’t supposed to be here, you’d broken every rule to fight your way to him but he - he was worth it.

“STOP!” You shouted, clawing at your mothers wrist, tearing beads and jewels off her sleeve. “FATHER STOP THIS!” Lila, tears in her eyes, rushed toward you to try and pull you back through the door you burst through moments ago.

She was conflicted by rules and love, “Princess, you mus’nt.”

“He didn’t hurt me. FATHER PLEASE!”

Your heart was shattering, you felt weak and strong at the same time. Like a caged animal who sees the light of freedom, you shook against the hands that held you back.

“Mother, please --” you gazed up at the Queen whose expression was twisted. She was the only one powerful enough to stop the king but in the twenty-three years you’d known her, she never once went against him. “Mom, look at me please,” she did, the corner of her eyes glistening, “If you care for me at all -- please.”

You could hear the sounds of every contact, every brutal landing against Kaeya. He never made a noise.

Torn, conflicted, your mother’s grip eased which gave you the chance to make a break for it. Without thinking, with cries and screams chasing after you, you ran toward the man who gave you his life so you could give him yours.

Shoving past the guards as they swung, one of their blunted weapons made contact with your shoulder but you didn’t care. Kaeya’s eyes went wide. You threw your arms out toward him. He did the same and caught you and brought you below him, shielding you from the blows that followed.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!” Your fathers voice echoed, causing you to tighten your grip around your knights neck. He pressed his bloodied palm against your back and lifted his head. You peeked to look at him only for your your blood run cold at the expression on Kaeya’s face.

His eyepatch had fallen off. You could see the sharpness of his eyes. One rich in royal blue while the other a paler white, an old scar slowly turning red from a cut at his hairline. He had a split lip and another cut against his nose. You bit back a sob at the sate of him while everyone else took several steps back.

“Release my daughter,” the King rumbled, stealing a sword from one of the guards.

“She came to me,” Kaeya bit back, aura growing darker at the sight of the weapon.

“Daughter.”

“I won’t leave.”

“Enough of this! Do as I say or I will --”

“Will what?!” Everything boiled up at once. The floodgates opened and you let them flow, “Keep me in a cage for the rest of my life?” You adjusted so you could look at the royal family, at the guards who were unsure what to do, at the maid who raised you hiding behind her hands, but wherever you looked, you never let go of him, “My life is already one of a prisoner. Do what you want with it! I was certainly never the owner of it - so take it! Take my life!”

“Hu-husband,” your mother took a tentative step toward your father but he shook her hand away.

You continued even though your throat was tight, even though your arms trembled and you could feel the sticky , sickly heat of Kaeya’s blood seep into your gown, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is - I will be obedient but, please, let Kaeya go.”

Everyone fell silent, even Kaeya who’s breathing was ragged in your ear. He opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted.

“Why would I do that?” The King asked, knuckles turning whiter the longer he held onto his sword.

You choked down a sob, “Because I love him.”

The truth was a weight off your chest but would it make a difference? A princess falling for a knight -- there was no precedent for it.

“You - love - him?” Your father swallowed every word.

“I do, father.”

The king scoffed but before he could lift his sword, your mothers palm pressed against his chest, “what about you, knight?”

Kaeya, without warning, moved to stand and you helped him by pressing your hands against his chest being careful not to touch the bruises he had. Fear and worry gripped you - what was he doing?

He wrapped his arm around your back and held you too him while he crafted a sword out of frost in his other. He panted, wheezed and spat out blood from his mouth but through it all his chin remained lifted.

“Give me nothing but her love and I will revel in it for the remainder of my days.”

“You love my daughter?”

“With every breath.”

You couldn’t stop the tears as they cascaded down your cheeks. You thought it when he kissed you in the dark, hoped it meant what you wanted, but hearing him say it ---

Desperate, you looked toward your mother.

The Queen stepped between the King and the two of you, her eyes softer than they’d ever been. For a moment you recalled the warmth of those eyes as if her arms were holding you once again.

“Sir Alberich, you are herby unbound from your duty. The vows you once took are dissolved.” She held up her hand, her husband held his tongue. “For your service, and the rescue of our only he- for the rescue of my beloved daughter, I will grant you one request. Whatever that may be.”

Kaeya dissolved his weapon, you adjusted under his arm to keep him steady. He was let go of his vows. Relieved, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Kaeya looked at you then back to the Queen and the supportive, if not by force, King.

“You will grant me anything I wish?” Kaeya confirmed and the Queen nodded. Grabbing your hand, he took a step forward, “Release her.” He said with determination as he pulled you in front of him.

You twisted, shocked at his request, “Kaeya --?” Confusion washing over your face, he didn’t hesitate to explain himself.

“Ah, you haven’t realized it yet,” he mused as his thumb ran across you the cut on your cheek, “all your life you’ve been viewed as something to be won, a commodity, but that’s not what you are. I do not want you caged, bound like some trophy to put on the shelf. I will have you, Princess, but by your choice alone.” Searching his eyes, you landed on every bruise, cut, and scrape he accrued for your sake. “Let her live, that is my wish,” he doubled-down as he gazed at you the way you always wished someone would.

Kaeya saw you ---

“Granted,” your mother’s voice broke and when you looked toward her you saw her crying. All the fear of losing her daughter was finally outweighed with the understanding that holding her with bars of protection had nearly done just that. “Whether you wish to keep or throw away your title, I will - I will support you, whatever you wish to be. We will be here,” she expressed through her tears.

You never knew the bite of real shackles but you swore your arms and legs felt lighter at her words.

You were free. Free.

Stepping toward Kaeya, you made your commitment, “you say it is my choice,” you repeated with a glistening, cheek-straining smile, “but, I believe, Sir Alberich, you must know the choice was never my own. Certainly, my heart would surely break if it didn’t belong to you.”

Kaeya leaned toward your lips, “I thought we agreed on Kaeya, hmm?”

“You’re right, Kaeya.”

“That’s better,” he hummed as his lips pressed against yours and you were filled with the overpowering taste of iron and utter devotion.

The story is your own - however you want to have it

Just remember to live

Live to the fullest

The both of you --

You, and your beloved Knight, Kaeya Alberich.

#hazel works #genshin impact #genshin x female reader #x fm reader #genshin impact x fm reader #kaeya x fem!reader #kaeya x female reader #genshin kaeya x fm reader

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mischieviem · 1 year ago

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Figured I'd share some of my good omens x labyrinth art here too

(I posted more on my Instagram)

(Do not repost)

#good omens 2 #good omens fanart #good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #ineffable idiots #ineffable partners #labyrinth #david tennant #david bowie #michael sheen

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bowieswiferael · 5 days ago

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Hi names Maggie as said in my bio and here’s some things about me :3

Age: teen

Fandoms: DAVID BOWIE, Labyrinth, The Muppets, Weezer, The Beatles, Queen, Gorillaz, Blur, Black Christmas, South Park, Gravity Falls, Tally Hall, Homestuck, Doctor Who, And the furry fandom, and good omens🎀

I will most likely not make friends on here so please don’t ask😔🙏

I will take Art request cause I’ll post my art on here :3 BUT NO ABSOLUTELY NO ASKING FOR: R34, 18+, ANY MINOR X ADULT, OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT.

DNI IF U ARE A: P3do, Z00, OR SUPPORT/ANYTHING PROBLEMATIC.

#the muppets #doctor who #gorillaz #bands #david bowie #the beatles #queen band #60s #70s #80s #good omens #furry fandom #silliness

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katyspersonal · 7 months ago

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Hey guys, remember how I said that I'll stop being obnoxious about model overview videos?

youtube

Okay OKAY, this time even though the video is long there is not much to see as I've already seen most of this (and in even better quality, like that one infamous Blender watching video by Sinclair Lore) However, a few funny things:

Not only Labyrinth Warrior is modelled under these clothes, but also he is jacked as fuc fdjsjhsdf

This is also a REALLY rotted body :/

Abhorrent Beast is not only a Wallmart Omen, but also has TWO tails, strangely enough! At very different layers!

Since the Bloodletting Beast that still has head also has its back torn, maybe something similar happened and whatever escaped the back was the source of that second tail?

This creature

Again, concept was waaaaay more sick!

Labyrinth Madmen are also fully modeled under their clothes! THEY are twinks tho, but have some interesting wounds

Also REALLY cool detail of their swords being broken version of the swords that Labyrinth Warriors are wielding!

Also twink

@jarognieva Already posted compillation of good shots from this video of Yharnam in this ( x ) post for anyone who wants to draw her, just in case!

I REALLY adore the detail that her bloody attack does create Frenzy Spear though! Makes sense, since these ARE made of blood!

#bloodborne #screenshots #bloodborne reference #bloodborne observation #pthumerians #videos #bloodborne enemies #abhorrent beast #Youtube

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p1nkwitch · 1 year ago

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Alright end of the year fic rec list of my works from this year before i forget about it. All lonelyeyes themed of course.

Choke and swallow down my heart A hanahaki fic mixed with a different flavor of soulmate tattoos. Its a bit of an urban fantasy but it covers the canon story of the podcast. Had a lot of fun with that one, a lot of flower meaning with it too.

Who is that that i see? Peter suffers from Prosopagnosia and cannot recognize faces. Quite the ordeal for a relationship when you never mention it to your husband.

Tower of sins You know how its Jon and Martin who walk through the apocalypse in season 5? Well what if the eye did not reward Elias at all and he was forced to move through the wasteland with a Peter. Alternate take of events of s5, mind the tags.

Take me to Church My Big Bang fic! A TMA x Bloodborne fusion, i am very proud of that one and the art i got for it was lovely!!! Really mind the tags here. No need of previous Bloodborne knoweldge to understand i made sure its all self explanatory but still you probably will catch some references. Peter is a hunter having the worst time of his life with Elias the demon along for the ride.

Heat haze days Timeloop fic where Elias just cant stop dying and Peter has to repeat the same years over and over again trying to fix it while having a constant mental breakdown.

Repair my heart Afterlife fic with Peter waiting on Elias while fixing a house. The house is a bit of a metaphor. Kind of bittersweet but with a happy ending.

I want to break free Good Omens Au! An angel and a demon lose the antichrist and pine for each other for 6000 years now with Tma characters.

Buttons and Keys A Coraline Au with Jonah as the main character. It has two sequels covering Paranorman and Labyrinth if you like the verse. A personal favourite of mine because Coraline is one of my favourite movies.

They are only human The Magnus archives but with supernatural creatures hiding in plain sight, turns out Gerry was wrong and there are more creatures than just the fears going around. Peter is very aware of it, unfortunately Elias is not.

God damn you got me in love again Urban Fantasy somewhere else. Peter is a witch and Elias is demon working on a flowershop and tatto shop respectively.

There are a lot of more i could mention but these are some fics i really love.

#lonelyeyes #peter lukas #elias bouchard #tma #the magnus archives #myficf #flurby fics #rec list

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veliseraptor · 1 year ago

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twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by @feralkwe - thank you! I feel like I've done this before but if I have it's been a minute so

1. How many works do you have on AO3? across pseuds I have 1,010 works. with my "current" one I'm at 607. that is more or less my entire oeuvre, though there's a fair number of short fics on tumblr I haven't gotten around to crossposting though I'd ostensibly like to at some point. eventually. maybe.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 4,873,723. aYIKES. but hey closing in on 5 million! wonder when I'll hit that. I bet I would if I posted my unfinished wips for the mcu tbh

3. What fandoms do you write for? ever or currently? the list of fandoms I have written at least one fic for (not counting ones where the one fic was a crossover) is [deep breath] the mcu, the untamed/mdzs, supernatural, the silmarillion, a song of ice and fire, black jewels trilogy, wheel of time, doctrine of labyrinths, death note, the caliban leandros series, avatar the last airbender, kinnporsche, doctor who, buffy the vampire slayer/angel, gentleman bastard sequence, marvel comics, harry potter, temeraire, good omens, code geass, realm of the elderlings, greek mythology, dragon age, sandman, dexter, lymond chronicles, the firekeeper saga, lucifer (the tv series), crimson peak, kushiel's legacy, the x men movies, chronicles of narnia, twilight, and a couple other small book fandoms.

i used to be a lot more multifandom than i am now in terms of what i wrote for, and have been writing fic for which is how this happened.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Not my favorite fics, for the most part. They are:

Life in Reverse (MCU)

With Absolute Splendor (The Untamed)

some good mistakes (The Untamed)

half a league onward (MCU)

The Villain Wrangler (MCU)

5. Do you respond to comments? I do not. I feel bad about it, but (a) I don't know what to say, (b) I feel unbearably self-conscious/self-important trying and (c) I already have too much I'm trying to do in my limited time/too many obligations I have placed upon myself to add another one that will just stress me out. Again, I have all kinds of guilt about this, though, which probably kind of defeats the (c) purpose of not doing it.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Almost certainly Mercy, though it's possible I could dig up others; that's the literal murder-suicide one, though, and I'm pretty sure I've only written one of those. I've written a lot where one character dies but another survives and has to live with the grief, which is arguably worse? but I still think Mercy wins. once there was a way to get back home might give it a run for its money, though.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I've actually written a fair amount of fic with happy endings! just mostly they have to suffer to get there. but trying to think of fic with a straight happy ending...I feel like I wrote some fairly fluffy fic in Black Jewels Trilogy fandom that I don't want to link to because I don't think it's very good. Maybe Life in Reverse, honestly? That's a fic where I tied up most things and resolved them in a pretty happy way.

Oh, or actually With Absolute Splendor might qualify.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I have in the past! Not a lot, but it happens every so often. Usually I just delete it, tbh; it doesn't feel worth leaving it there and I'm certainly not going to respond to it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Sure do, primarily for pairings that are dysfunctional in one way or another, and for the most part I want the sex to say something about the inner life/psychology of the characters I'm writing. truly plotless smut does happen but I find it weirdly difficult. I have to do so much pre-justification work for my smut, at least in my head if not on page.

a lot of what I write at least has a little bit of kink or D/s flavor to it even if it's not explicitly written as such (and a lot of it is at least a little explicitly written as such). I also like to write about power dynamics (in sex) and sex that's sublimating some other emotion or desire, if that latter makes sense.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I used to, but not anymore, and I probably won't; I don't know why, but I'm just generally not a crossover fan these days. But I did write a Lord of the Rings/Cthulhu Mythos Morgoth/Cthulhu fic back in the day. No, I'm not going to link it, you can find it if you really want.

The Scarlet Pimpernel/Black Jewels Trilogy might be objectively weirder but it was because of an RP and therefore feels more reasonable to me.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I had forgotten about it until just now, but yes, actually. Including one that actually got reposted on AO3, which takes a particular kind of guts that's not the same as reposting on Wattpad or the like, imo. (I've also had fic scraped off AO3 and reposted on other sites.) The person took it down when I called them out on it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I have been fortunate enough to have a number of fics translated into a few languages! I was curious which ones so I went and looked, and it looks like I've had fic translated into Russian, Chinese, and Japanese.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I've started co-writing a fic but never finished one.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Might have to give this one to xuexiao, though there's a lot of room in my heart for many ships! that's just one that hit an incredible number of my favorite things squarely on the head several times, leaving me concussed and helpless. It's so much, you guys.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? There's a number of my MCU wips that I look at and am like "yeah what I have of this is good actually, too bad I'll almost certainly never finish it", among which is Dead Superheroes Walking, the fic about everyone who died in Infinity War being trapped inside the Soul Stone and having to work together to fix the ensnappening from the inside. I have about 3/4 of it written if not more and the remaining quarter will probably remain unfinished. It was Wanda POV and a lot about Wanda and Loki bonding.

another one is the one where Hela decides instead of fighting Odin to strategically back down and plan to overthrow him later, and therefore is around while Loki and Thor are growing up. I really liked what I had of this one, and really enjoyed writing Hela's POV, but again. don't think I'm going to end up finishing it.

I have a whole folder called "MCU Salvage" that's basically my MCU wips that I parsed out because I was like "these are pretty good actually, maybe someday I'll have the motivation to return to them", which is probably delusional but, well. one never knows.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm pretty good at dialogue - I love to write characters having conversations, probably to a fault - and, when it comes to fanfiction, characterization.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Worldbuilding for sure is one. I hate it, I don't think I'm very good at it. also description - I feel like I lean heavily on dialogue in fic and tend to go light on descriptive language. this is probably partly because I'm not a very imagery-focused reader, so I don't think a lot about creating a "visual" with my writing, but also because I just don't like doing it as much as I like writing about internal thought processes and interpersonal verbal exchanges.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I almost certainly would not do it, as someone who is monolingual and has zero confidence in my ability to do it right in a way that wouldn't read absolutely awfully. The one exception to this is in Lymond fic, and that's because the canon did it first, so it is fully justifiable for me to have this guy spout off in five languages in one fic. Otherwise...not since I tried writing a fake Phantom of the Opera fic mocking bad Phantom of the Opera fics.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I always say Wheel of Time because that's the first fandom of my heart but technically I wrote a crack Harry Potter fic before I wrote for Wheel of Time. But in my heart it was Wheel of Time. That was certainly my first fandom in any meaningful sense of the word.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written? This question is my nemesis. My favorite fic I've ever written changes at least once a month. I have a series for this on AO3 that I'm going to link to as a lazy answer to this question even though that's sort of 50 of my favorite fics, so sue me, I've written a lot of things over the years and I actually do like a fair number of them, even if you have to make me say so.

tagging uhhhh @highladyluck, @curiosity-killed, @ameliarating, @gloriousmonsters, i'm not sure how many people i'm supposed to tag for this but if you want to do it, go ahead?

#lise memes #confessions of a frustrated writer

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