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thedeerman · 7 months ago

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RadioApple fic:

Do You Want To Know?

Chapter 1

Ch2: Admire

Sitting through morning meetings and Charlie’s exercises is a necessary evil. Being there for any hotel related meetings was his job, and he took his job quite seriously. Much more seriously than originally planned, but all the best entertainment comes from hard work. Whether it be taking down overlords, forging eternity-long deals, or just simple sinner watching. Alastor loved people watching in life, and in death it’s no different. Only better. In life, people followed standard moral codes when they knew they were amongst other people. It was only after spending many hours, sometimes days, watching from the shadows that he would finally see one’s true, awful self emerge. In Hell, there are no social codes that must be followed while at the bottom of the ladder. Overlords and politics were a bit different, but even here in this welcoming environment that Charlie had designed, there’s plenty of sub-human filth to keep him occupied.

Until Charlie comes up with yet another odd distraction for them all to partake in. This one didn't seem terribly troubling. Alastor didn't mind writing, and being able to finish the exercise on his own without needing to sit in a room full of other sinners felt like a blessing. The whole thing seemed like it would come and go without much thought until he opened the paper he was given during the meeting. The paper that would tell him who he was to be writing to for the next week. His smile never wavered, but he felt his ear flick in irritation. Lucifer. Just my luck. Alastor glanced over to where the fallen angel was sitting on the other side of the meeting room, but the idiot looked lost in his own thoughts. As was typical.

It gets even worse when he sees what the writing prompt for the day is. There, at the top of the piece of paper that Charlie had handed him on his way out of the meeting, lies the instructions: “Name two things about your person that you admire and why.” It’s surrounded by little stars and smiley faces that make Alastor want to throw the thing away and forget he ever agreed to do it. Instead, he folds the paper neatly and places it in a pocket for later. He brews himself a cup of coffee, hoping that the caffeine will help dull his early morning irritation and sits in one of the seating areas of the hotel’s lobby to take a moment for himself. Almost immediately after, the devil himself comes walking out of the meeting room with a genuine smile on his face, the kind that only his daughter ever manages to put there. Alastor quickly looks away, but not before seeing Lucifer’s face fall into a frustrated, irritable look. The demon decides to keep his eyes off of the devil for now, ignoring him as he stormed past. He only snuck a glance when Lucifer’s back was turned, quickly heading out of the lobby and towards his tower on the far end of the hotel. How am I supposed to even tolerate anything about him, let alone admire him? As he drinks his coffee he wonders how many indirect insults he can put in each letter before being called out and put in mandatory group therapy. He hums an old tune while he ponders how to go about antagonizing the king without facing consequences. After some time, he drinks the rest of his coffee and decides it’s time to go off and tend to his duties for the day. He’ll think about this writing prompt nonsense later.

And he does think about it, but by the end of the day he’d spent so much time thinking about it that he hardly cared anymore. He had an entire week of this letter nonsense, he may as well play nice for the first letter or two, lest the king figure out who was writing to him too quickly. He wonders if there really is anything that he admired about the king. His power, perhaps. His ability to create such gaudy, showy nonsense with the flick of his wrist. Alastor didn't care for his lack of style, but the potential for that power was unmatched. Alright. That's one. What else could there be? He pulls the folded paper out of his pocket and sets it down on the desk in his room.

“Name two things about your person that you admire and why.”

The demon sighs. He pulls off his coat and sets it aside as he sits at the desk. Best not stick to my typical handwriting, thinks the demon. Lifting his pen, he adjusts his writing style as he starts to write.

One thing I admire about this person is his raw power. It has a lot of potential.

Alastor looks at the words on the page and finds that they’re true. True enough, objectively, that anyone could have said it. That’s the goal. Keeping the recipient guessing on who the sender was. That was Charlie’s strict rule, right? Alastor chuckled. He won’t have a clue. He continued to write.

Another thing I admire is

He paused. What else could be considered admirable by that nuisance of a king? He hasn’t backed down from any of Alastor’s antagonizing, despite it clearly being in his best interest. But what could be admirable about being bullheaded and quick to fight? Alastor takes a moment to think.

Another thing I admire is his determined unwillingness to back down from a challenge.

Alastor looked at the page in front of him. That seems sufficient, he thinks. Chances are, the king would assume that the writer is referring to his battle with Adam, which Alastor wasn’t around to witness. Satisfied with his work, he folds the letter and puts it in the envelope Charlie supplied. Hopefully tomorrow’s prompt will give him more to work with. This little game was beginning to seem like it might turn out to be a bit of fun after all.

Lucifer sat in his room, at his desk, for two hours trying to write the letter assigned to him. What the fuck could I possibly say about this guy that isn’t negative enough to put me in therapy jail? He stared at the paper, decorated with little drawings that were certainly Charlie’s personal touch, and reread the writing prompt again.

“Name two things about your person that you admire and why.”

One thing was going to be hard enough, but two?? Shit. Maybe he could just not do it. Yeah! Maybe he can beg Charlie for a pass on this one. But if he doesn’t participate, he’s definitely going to group therapy again. Even if it isn’t meant as a punishment, it’s not something he wants to have to participate in. Just two things. Damn it! He looks at the paper for what feels like the 10,000th time and finally picks up his pen.

Alastor,

He cringes at his immediate instinct to format the writing like a formal letter. Well, too late to back out of it now.

One thing I admire about you is

Lucifer pauses to think again, racking his brain for something nice to say about the radio demon. What’s something that he does well? the fallen angel wonders. He took out tons of overlords apparently, but that’s not really great... He then remembers how Alastor had not only used his power for destruction, but protection. He protected the hotel from loan sharks, from the exorcists, from...

He lifts his pen again.

One thing I admire about you is your willingness to use your power to protect this place, even if you don’t completely believe in it. Even facing a danger that could have killed you.

Lucifer looks at what he wrote and nods. He continued writing.

Another thing that I admire is your ability to get people to listen to you. No matter where you are, or who you’re speaking to, people always tend to listen.

Lucifer squints his eyes for a minute. Did I just write that? He shakes his head. Whatever. Technically it’s true. He then thinks about how he might be the only one in the hotel ‘family’ that wasn’t present for Alastor’s fight with Adam. Ha! He thinks to himself, No way he’s gonna think this is coming from me! Lucifer grins, satisfied that he’d finished his daughter’s project properly. He folds the paper and stuffs it into the provided envelope, finally done with it. Glancing at the time, he accepted that his day wasn’t going to go far. Still a few hours before ‘family’ dinner, he turned to his workbench. Rolling up his sleeves, he started sketching out some new ideas. Maybe if I make something nice for Charlie, I can get out of the next ‘activity’...

By dinner time, Charlie’s starting to feel exhausted. She was up late working on the new activity plans and was too excited to sleep in. The participants didn’t seem thrilled, but she was. She’d been working on this nonstop for a week, taking every spare moment to jot down notes or bounce ideas off of Vaggie. But now that it’s been put into motion, she has a TON to catch up on. Meetings to attend, people to get in contact with, but mostly just planning. Tons and tons of planning. Charlie couldn’t do everything, so she had a complex system of tasks and staff, when each thing had to get done and by who. It’s more of a volunteer thing, everyone was glad to pull their weight when they could. But keeping track of it all to keep everything running was quite a job.

After doing everything that needed to be done for the day, Charlie looks at her chart to see who’s responsible for dinner tonight. Looks like.... Cherri! She smiled brightly. Cherri was who she was going to be writing her letters to, so she hoped that she would have an opportunity to learn more about her. This was a convenient surprise, seeing as the names were each chosen randomly. Well... Most of them, Charlie thought. She may have felt a tiny twinge of guilt for the little lie, but hopefully, the outcome would be more than worth the trouble. Only time will tell! She thinks with a smile, ready for whatever happened next.

Chapter three below!

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #fanfic #mine #Do You Want To Know

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waterdeep-weavemoss · 3 months ago

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My darling,

T– my ally has kept me quite busy as of late. I’m sorry I haven’t had a moment to write. It reminds me of my old life, you know – being bogged down with old parchment and books in a dusty old room and making too many assumptions educated guesses. I took note of the poem and have been raking through every text I can find.

Has our ally told you? About Gale, I mean.

We think he’s…well, we all but know he’s become…a lich.

Actually, not entirely – not yet, I hope – but mostly, a lich. If he hasn’t yet created a phylactery - a soul fracture hidden somewhere safe - then we should be able to get through to him. I’m sorry I haven’t caught up on our correspondence; my eyes grow quite weary after hours of roving over pages and pages of words I can barely make sense of. If he’s figured out a phylactery, however, we just have to find whatever it is that’s holding it, and destroy it. It will weaken him only for a moment, but then he’ll be ours for the taking.

Do you understand what this means? Doe – we’re going to get him back.

If I never read another book about these wretched creatures again, I’ll be quite content. I’d go so far as to say lich are nasty sorts of creatures, feeding off the somewhat living, but it seems I have no room to judge that matter, lest I start referring to myself as the proverbial ‘pot’ to a rather wicked kettle.

One thing my studies have turned up is that their names are vital. Not what they choose to call themselves when they come into, but who they were before power. In one particularly dusty tome, it said this: “speaking a lich’s true name could endow the speaker power over it, rendering the lich’s attention wholly on the speaker. It is only then that one can communicate with the true self which lies at the core beneath the corruption.” I assume this means, should Gale go through yet another crisis of his identity, all we must do is call out his name. If it were me, I too would react viscerally if I was addressed as ‘Gale of Waterdeep.’ Eugh.

Another text mentioned ‘twilight’ as being a time when the veil between what is the material and the immaterial is thinnest. Whatever dark power he’s gotten himself wrapped up in, it has to lurk in the inbetween; this kind of power isn’t welcome anywhere else. Wherever Gale is, a part of him must be stuck on both sides. That’s why the name is so important – it’s his tether, his lifeline. It’s the way to bring him back – back to the light. We just have to break the hold, which is where you come in.

Our ally is convinced you’re the key to all this. I’m inclined to believe they're right. Have you any idea how frequently they refer to someone else as being more fit for a task than themself?

Get back to me at your earliest convenience if you happen to find any hint of a phylactery about. I hope the devil’s been treating you well, but not too well. Don’t forget, I’m still waiting for you to come back to me, my darling. Still hoping I might be the one to take your hand at last.

I hesitate to admit it, but I think I feel hope, Doe. Hope that we’ll make it out of this. Hope that we’ll get Gale back, and make the bloody fool see sense. It may not be what you want to hear, but I understand why he did it – I don’t agree, but I understand. Because, if given the choice to wield an ungodly power in order to keep you safe, I wouldn’t think twice.

Anyhow, so sorry to keep you so long, I just…missed you. And I feel so sure that we will be close again, and soon.

I love you.

–A

~ She reads the letter once, twice, thrice, finally drops it with violently shaking hands. The living dark swirling in her chest is so cold. So freezing it makes her want to sleep.

'It's me,' she whispers, clutching her hands together in an effort to stop them shaking. Her heart lurches, black spots encroach on her vision. 'Astarion it's me...'

Gods, if you knew. I'm the vessel.

What the fuck do I do now?

#astarion anon #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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dessertgeek · 1 year ago

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The Mari Lwyd Twitter saga (2021)

This is part of my efforts to transcribe @seananmcguire's annual holiday Mari Lwyd Twitter threads/poetry battles. The hashtag for now is #Mari Lwyd Project, the first post is here, this thread's source is here.

This round is Seanan + @tkingfisher back for another round of cheese and rhymes! And 2021's is the one that inspired me to work on this, as the non-Twitter versions I could find, though there be plenty, were all screenshots.

As always, credit to the authors/poets/cheese protectors. CWs for food and caps. Settle in for a read. (And if there are more 2021 poetry battles can someone please link me or transcribe and send me a link? I'm not finding more yet.)

Seanan: HELLO MY SWEET, IT'S BEEN A YEAR. I KNOW YOU MISSED ME: NOW I'M HERE. YOU HEARD MY BELLS UPON THE BREEZE. I HOPE YOU'RE WELL PREPARED WITH CHEESE.

Ursula: I’ve blockaded the pantry, I’ve bolted the door I’ve piled up the padlocks ‘til they’ll padlock no more, It may be quite churlish, but this cheese I’ll defend From equine depredations ‘til the cold bitter end.

Seanan: THE WIND THROUGH MY BONES HAS BEEN FREEZING AND CRUEL, IT BLOWS DOWN THE CANDLES AND KINDNESS OF YULE, AND I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D BE QUITE THIS UNKIND. YOU'LL SPARE NOT A CRUMB, NOR A SLIVER OF RIND?

Ursula: If you asked me for money, I’d write you a check, And the clothes off my back, I’d pile on your neck. But my cheese—! I’m sorry, but that is the bar, I’m all for charity, but you’re going too far!

Seanan: IF YOU HAVE MONEY, CHEESE IS SIMPLE: IN YOUR ACCOUNT IT LEAVES NO DIMPLE. IT'S HARD TO SHOP WHEN YOU'RE JUST BONES, YOU'RE MET WITH LOATHING, STICKS AND STONES.

Ursula: In that case, my friend, I will now blow your mind For cheese can be had, from the curd to the rind. With the power of the internet, your torment will end, If you’re a skeleton, online shopping’s your friend!

Seanan: AND YET I FIND THAT SHOPPING'S HARD WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE A CREDIT CARD FOR "WINTER SPIRIT'S" MY PROFESSION, BUT PUTS NO CASH IN MY POSSESSION.

Ursula: That seems like a problem, I freely admit, The solution, I fear, not within my remit. But if your profession’s not a matter of choice, Have you tried sending Winter some kind of invoice?

Seanan: THE SOLUTION FOR NOW IS RIGHT THERE IN YOUR HAND: OFFER ME CHEESE, DOESN'T MATTER WHAT BRAND, AND I'LL SPEAK TO THE SPIRITS OF COLD AND OF FROST AND ASK THEY SPARE ROOTS, LEST YOUR GARDEN BE LOST.

Ursula: So we’re moving to threats now, is that what I hear? Menacing my garden which you know I hold dear? It’s on now, bone horse, forget the Brie— You mess with my plants and you’re messing with ME.

Seanan: I OFFER NO THREATS, BUT THE BLESSINGS OF SPRING: FOR FROST COMES WITHOUT ME, IT'S THAW THAT I BRING. I ASK FOR A TOKEN, ONE YOU CAN REPLACE, AND MOVE WITH THE WINTER TO SOME OTHER PLACE.

Ursula: This type of wording is really quite damnable Like a Mafia Don saying “This places looks...flammable.” Leaving my garden so the frost won’t attack it? Cold bone horse, you’re running a protection racket!

Seanan: YOUR POINT IS VALID, THAT SEEMS PLAIN, AND YET IT SEEMS I MUST REMAIN. I'LL SIT HERE IN MY CHEESELESS CORNER, AND SO THE YEAR WILL GROW NO WARMER.

Ursula: It’s true I long for Spring’s return Yet Necessity must sometimes burn Seems to me this vein’s untapped… What happens if I keep Winter trapped?

Seanan: YOUR PATHS STAY SLICK, YOUR WINDOWS FREEZE, AND ALL BECAUSE YOU WON'T SHARE CHEESE. YOUR FIELDS ARE FALLOW, GRASS UNSPROUTED WHEN YOU WON'T LET ME BE RE-ROUTED.

Ursula: Ah, but think of Winter in Summer’s home— The savings on AC alone! A captive winter’s a useful tool, Just much climate could you cool?

Seanan: NOT QUITE AS MUCH AS YOU'RE NOW THINKING, AND I'D FAR RATHER JUST BE DRINKING, IT'S EASY TO BE FREE OF ME. JUST GIVE A SINGLE BITE OF BRIE.

Ursula: I don’t fear winter’s icy blast When it’s 72 and overcast But consider this with empty eyes How about a compromise?

Seanan: ...WHAT COMPROMISE ARE YOU PROPOSING? IT'S NOT LIKE I'LL BE DECOMPOSING. BUT AS THE SNOWFLAKES GLEAM AND GLISTEN, THIS I SAY TO YOU: I'LL LISTEN.

Ursula: I’ll write the word “cheese” on the back of a napkin And slide the note under this door you’re attackin’. And don’t argue with me that the cheese is synthetic— The best magic always has been sympathetic.

Seanan: WHILE IT STILL SEEMS A TAD BIT MEAN, IT SUITS ENOUGH TO MATCH THE SCENE. THE THING THAT'S WRIT THE THING IN FACT, AND SO I'LL GO...BUT I'LL BE BACK.

Ursula: Goodbye, bone horse, the season moves Its icy wheel beneath your hooves. And as I devour this cheese with chives I feel I should apologize. ‘Twas wrong to plot to see you imprisoned— But there’s no ethical consumption in capitalism.

#Mari Lwyd Project #Mari Lwyd #seanan mcguire #t kingfisher #wow this took a bit #I was worried there that I might hit the text limit #But still #that ending #fantastic

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allianettemie5 · 5 months ago

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I was away on vacation when the 'platy learns about RPF' stream happened and I saw people posting lamenting it and I was like 'surely these people are overreacting? It was probably so funny and a short bit' and after watching the stream. Yeah I fucking hate what happened. Like Jeremy I can respect for seeming a little less mocking in his remarks but Platy fully fucking crossed a line. It's disheartening to watch a creator go from "there's fanfic of me and my friends?!" To "these fanfic writers deserve to be mocked, and their writing held up as a joke" it was so fucking embarrassing knowing that I am/was one of those people who read/write RPF. The first time I ever read fanfic was when I was like 12 and watching the video where Ze and Chilled read out fanfic! I had some ideas for PR1 fanfic floating around in my head but the chance of my writing it at all has plummeted, let alone publishing it. Idk sorry to just rant in your inbox a little but it's just like... i forget sometimes how niche fanfic is?? Like how do you not understand the concept of it, and mock it like that? Idk. Platy already kinda left a bad taste in my mouth sometimes but this is different.

I find myself not really worrying about publishing stuff, mostly because it's going to be a long time until that happens. I have a few ideas, I try my best to write stuff down, so it's all sitting in my wip folder waiting for its hour

I can give you this advice: write no matter what, lest you lose your inspiration for these ideas you have and they get lost forever. You don't have to publish them just yet if you're fearing a backlash, wait it out until the dust settles and Platy gets his head out of his ass, as well as his fans hyperfocus on something else. You don't write fanfics for others, you write them for yourself in the first place, and it doesn't really matter what anyone else says about it. You pick the characters you want to write about because you like them as a character, not because you want to appease someone or become popular or anything

If you get an itch to share your works with someone, just send them to one of your friends, although I do understand that your friends might not get it as much as you do they might not be a PR1 person, and it sucks so much. Another option is joining Emrys' Discord server, we have quite a lot ff writers there sharing their progress

*inhale...exhale*

You mentioned that ff-reading video... I think that video painted fanfiction in the same one-sided light, and it's mocked and cringed over. I wanted to say 'I am glad that the two of them don't care about fanfics' and remembered the TOS vods, but when I watch these vods I don't really see mockery or disrespect. They laugh over their own little thing and move on

Reeny read fanfics on stream once, and I remember how pessimistically ficwriters reacted back then, although iirc she was genuinly interested

Cheesy and Ozza seem to be regular readers, but not once they let out a disrespectful comment towards us, Cheesy even defended us before the entire vc. Em and Pasta read fanfics too, but they don't really call it a bad thing either

No one from PR1 group has ever come that close to the 'I am so pissed at him I'm never mentioning him anymore anywhere' (Several people fell over this line straight into 'Fuck no, I'm deleting everything that has his name', if you know you know). Platy's biggest problem is his f'ed up sense of humour that turns him from a fun guy into a bully here, but he does not exacly understands that he's doing something wrong

#allianettemie5 original #allianettemie5 ask

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regallibellbright · 2 years ago

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[ID: A Twitter thread showing a battle between writers Ursula Vernon and Seanan McGuire from December 29, 2021, representing the Mari Lwyd, a wassailing tradition from southern Wales performed around Christmas in which a troupe with a horse skull on a very tall pole bedecked with ribbons go door-to-door and ask, through song, to be let into their neighbors’ houses and be fed. Neighbors will try and make excuses not to let the band in, leading to essentially a freeform rap battle as the Mari Lwyd and neighbors do battle. Seanan McGuire is performing the role of the Mari Lwyd and types her sections in all-capital letters; Ursula Vernon is playing the neighbor.

McGuire: @UrsulaV Hello my sweet,

it’s been a year.

I know you missed me,

Now I’m here.

You heard my bells upon the breeze. I hope you’re well-prepared with cheese.

Vernon: I’ve blockaded the pantry, I’ve bolted the door.

I’ve piled up the padlocks ‘til they’ll padlock no more. It may be quite churlish, but this cheese I’ll defend

From equine depredations ‘til the cold bitter end.

McGuire: The wind through my bones has been freezing and cruel,

It blows down the candles and kindness of Yule.

And I can’t believe you’d be quite this unkind,

You’ll spare not a crumb, nor a sliver of rind?

Vernon: If you’d asked me for money, I’d write you a check.

And the clothes off my back, I’d pile round your neck.

But my cheese--! I’m sorry, but that is the bar.

I’m all for charity, but you’re going too far!

McGuire: If you have money, cheese is simple:

In your account it puts no dimple.

It’s hard to shop when you’re just bones,

You’re met with loathing, sticks and stones.

Vernon: In that case, my friend, I will now blow your mind.

For cheese can be had, from the curd to the rind.

With the power of the internet, your torment will end,

If you’re a skeleton, online shopping’s your friend!

McGuire: And yet I find that shopping’s hard

When you don’t have a credit card

For “Winter Spirit”‘s my profession,

But puts no cash in my possession.

Vernon: That seems like a problem, I freely admit,

The solution, I fear, not within my remit.

But if your profession’s not a matter of choice,

Have you considered sending Winter some kind of invoice?

McGuire: The solution for now is right there in your hand:

Offer me cheese, doesn’t matter what brand.

And I’ll speak to the spirits of cold and of frost,

And ask they spare roots, lest your garden be lost.

Vernon: So we’re moving to threats now, is that what I hear?

Menacing my garden which you know I hold dear?

It’s on now, bone horse, forget the Brie -

You mess with my plants and you’re messing with ME. (Capitalized, for emphasis.)

McGuire: I offer no threats, but the blessings of spring:

For frost comes without me, it’s thaw that I bring.

I ask for a token, one you can replace,

And move with the winter to some other place.

Vernon: This type of wording is really quite damnable

Like a Mafia Don saying “This place looks... flammable.”

Leaving my garden so the frost won’t attack it?

Cold bone horse, you’re running a protection racket!

McGuire: Your point is valid, that seems plain,

And yet it seems I must remain.

I’ll sit here in my cheeseless corner,

And so the year will grow no warmer.

Vernon: It’s true I yearn for Spring’s return

Yet Necessity must sometimes burn

Seems to me this vein’s untapped...

What happens if I keep Winter trapped?

McGuire: Your paths stay slick, your windows freeze,

And all because you won’t share cheese.

Your fields are fallow, your grass unsprouted,

When you won’t let me be re-routed.

Vernon: Ah, but think of Winter in Summer’s home --

The savings on AC alone!

A captive winter’s a useful tool,

Just [how] much climate could you cool?

McGuire: Not quite as much as you’re now thinking,

And I’d far rather just be drinking,

It’s easy to be free of me,

Just give a single bite of Brie.

Vernon: I don’t fear winter’s icy blast

When it’s 72 and overcast

But consider this with empty eyes

How about a compromise?

McGuire: What compromise are you proposing

It’s not like I’ll be decomposing.

But as the snowflakes gleam and glisten,

This I’ll say to you: I’ll listen.

Vernon: I’ll write the word “cheese” on the back of a napkin

And slide the note under this door you’re attackin’.

And don’t argue with me that the cheese is synthetic -

The best magic always has been sympathetic.

McGuire: While it still seems a tad bit mean,

It suits enough to match the scene.

The thing that’s writ the thing in fact,

And so I’ll go... But I’ll be back.

Vernon: Goodbye, bone horse, the season moves

Its icy wheel beneath your hooves.

And as I devour this cheese with chives

I feel I should apologize.

‘Twas wrong to plot to see you imprisoned -

But there’s no ethical consumption in capitalism.

End ID]

Ursula Vernon & Seanan McGuire in a Mari Lwyd style rap battle on Twitter (pt 1).

#long post #christmas #food #cheese #mari lwyd #welsh #wassailing #seanan mcguire #ursula vernon #I wonder if they'll do one this year on Twitter or migrate to Tumblr or what

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lilac-5ky · 2 years ago

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some kissing headcanons for your faves in genshin? some juicy slight nsfw would be much appreciated :)) Also, happy pride month! If you feel comfortable, could you also include beidou? Thank u so much love, hope you're having a wonderful day!

A/N: Happy belated pride month! Figuring out which ones to write about was a bit of a struggle because I have soooo many faves ;-; I ended up picking a couple of them according to random inspiration. This did turn out a bit messy because at first I thought I should make some sort of small scenario type of kissing headcanon involving them, but then I realized it wasn't quite what you asked for so I ended up adding another section that's more like it near the end. Sorry for the trouble and I hope it turned out good enough, especially since it's the first time I'm writing about some of the characters and about female characters in general too.

Characters (m): Xiao, Childe and Heizou

Characters(f): Beidou and Yae Miko

Xiao

The sun had just set behind Wanghsu Inn, yet the stars had already spread across the sky when the not-so-young adeptus caught you off guard. Xiao was an elusive being, hiding out of common view as if his goal was to avoid everything and everyone. Perhaps that was the case most of the time, with him only showing upon request. For him to be so casually standing before you, without you calling out to him was a first.

Without saying a thing other than "Follow me", Xiao led you to small hill by the Inn. An assortment of objects was sprawled there; a blanket, a basket and a couple of plates, the fragrance of which could easily be traced back to Smiley Yanxiao.

"What's this?" You asked, your eyes widening in wonder.

"Food. Eat it." Xiao said as he took a seat on the blanket, patting for you to sit by his side.

Even after you had gone through the first plate, you were having a hard time believing that he had prepared such a surprise for you, a picnic, on top of that. He was never the type to pull such tricks, lest for a mere mortal. Perhaps there was more to the adeptus than met the eye, you thought to yourself.

Unsurprisingly, Xiao didn't touch any of the other dishes, other than his beloved Almond Tofu, that was. His eyes were glued to the moon while he ate, his mind most likely traveling elsewhere. He was always quiet, though you couldn't help but note how excessively quiet he was being right now. First he had prepped this dinner and now he was keeping to himself.

At the end, curiosity got the better of you. As you were about to ask him what the meaning of all this was, Xiao finally turned towards you, his amber eyes glowing underneath the moonlight.

"You haven't called me in a while." His observation sounded more like an accusation in his icy tone.

"Well, nothing dangerous went down. I figured that saying your name for no reason would be unwise. Don't wanna hear another speech about how us mortals have no respect for the adepti."

"You can call my name even when you aren't in danger."

"Hm?" You tilted your head, unsure of what he hinted at with his words.

"What I'm trying to say is..." He paused, glancing at the grass, the stars and then back at you. "Just..." Shaking his head dismissively, he let out a low grunt. "Forget about it."

"What? Tell me!" You demanded, desperately searching for an answer, though Xiao, once again, chose to ignore you.

"Xiao, you can't say this and then-"

Erasing your words with his mouth, Xiao rolled on top of you, pressing your wrists with his hands and your lips with his. Your eyes widened, a soft gasp coming out. You used to think that Xiao's kisses were like butterflies, feathery light and tender, yet this time it was different. The way he pursed his lips against yours, was full of frustration, anger perhaps too. It was as if he meant for you to understand what his words failed to deliver and by the time he pulled away, you did.

"Xiao"

His lips briefly curved upwards to what you could have sworn was a smile, one that disappeared just as fast as it appeared. He looked away, seemingly oblivious to the fact that both his cheeks were tainted red.

"Xiao." You called out again, unable to hide your own smile.

Maybe adepti weren't as complex as humans made them out to be.

Childe:

I actually had a different idea for Childe, but then the Harbinger teaser dropped and I had to re-do it. In reality, I could probably write a dozen headcanons about kisses (and not only) involving this man.

It was a cold winter night in Snezhnaya. You traveled all the way there just to surprise your favorite Harbinger. It had been so long since you'd last seen him, that you could barely remember your final encounter. The call was abrupt and sudden, and so was his departure. In no time, he was on the first boat back to his homeland, while you were bidding him farewell from the docks, wishing him a safe journey. Soon, he was out of sight, but not out of mind. You missed him and you bet he'd miss you all the same. So why not hop upon the first ship and pay him a visit?

That sounded like a great idea, though soon enough you came to realize that you'd made a grave mistake. Snezhnaya wasn't the same as Liyue, for its frigid cold was enough to make Dragonspine look like Child(e)'s play. You'd barely remembered to bring a coat with you, not that it mattered much. Even the finest fur from Liyue was deemed useless and flimsy in this frozen land.

"Oh? But you are shivering!" Childe exclaimed when he finally wrapped his arms around you.

The frosty wind of the docks gusted through your skin, threatening to rip your body into shreds. Even with the warmth of his body, you couldn't stop shivering. It felt good to be with him at last, but you needed more than that not to turn into a popsicle.

"Here, let me show you the third best way to warm up."

Before you even knew it, Childe pressed his lips against yours, letting his hands hungrily claim your entire body. The way he touched you was frantic and greedy, his palms lapping over your neck, your waist and lastly, your thighs. You couldn't tell whether he intended to warm you up or seduce you, though you couldn't complain whether it was one or the other.

With the tip of his tongue poking at your bottom lip, Childe pried your mouth open, eager to get a taste. You hummed in delight, pressing your own body tighter against him. The combination of snowflakes and fire water was an add one, yet it remained intoxicating enough for you wish you could take a sip right out of him.

Even when the two of you still stood in the middle of the port, he didn't seem overly concerned over the prying eyes of the people around him. After all, who could deny a Harbinger what was rightfully his?

"What was the first and the second way?" You asked when he pulled away, the heat of his breath following him the second he took a step back.

Bringing a hand around his neck, Childe carefully undid his crimson scarf, the pale shade of his complexion standing out between the thick layers of his winter coat. With the scarf still in his hands, he moved closer to you, wrapping it securely around your own neck.

"Fighting of course. It gets your blood pumping nicely. As for the second one..." He chuckled, a gloved finger tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. "You'll get to see for yourself when we reach home."

Yae Miko

Still salty that I lost the 50-50 on her banner .-.

"Hm? What is my cutie reading?" Miko's voice caught you off guard, forcing your back to jolt against her. "My, my, did I startle you?" She cooed into your ear, entertained by your reaction.

"Miko! Quit sneaking up on me like that."

"As they say, old habits die hard." She smirked, taking a seat next to you.

It wasn't rare for the Guujji of the Grand Narukami Shrine to roam the streets of the city, neglecting her duties or rather assigning them to the unlucky shrine maiden of the day. Everyone revered her, admiring her ability to run a business as well as oversee the shrine, yet as her employee and partner, you knew better than that. She was as sly as she was lazy. Still, it was the duality of her nature that made her all the more exhilarating to you in the first place.

"Slacking again?" You sighed, glancing over at her.

"Guilty as charged. So what is it that you are reading?" Miko asked, peering at the book on your lap.

"It's one of the books from the new batch! The protagonist gets isekai'd to a land full of beautiful and omnipotent kitsune ladies."

"Is that so? Are you not satisfied with the beautiful and omnipotent kitsune lady before you?" She teased, her smirk remaining throughout the conversation.

"That's.... That's not it! Besides, you've never even showed me your tails, fake kitsune lady!" You pouted.

"In that case, how about we fix that?"

Miko moved closer to you, so close that her hair was now tingling your nose. She had that look in her eyes, the one that could only mean she was up to no good. Her purple orbs had narrowed into two perfect slits of amethyst, her eyelashes slowly batting upon her half closed eye lids. Even when you knew of her vile intentions, it was too late for you to resist her allure. At the end, all you could do was repeatedly done, utterly bewitched by her.

"Then... look closely."

Before you could realize what was happening, a pink cloud manifested out of thin air, engulfing the both of you in a welcoming warmth, one that faded into her touch. Having no choice, you closed your eyes, a delighted hum evading Miko as she nullified the distance between you.

Her kiss was as elusive as she was, her lips coming into contact with yours before she pulled away, over and over again until you could feel yourself shuddering with anticipation. Even when her tongue wet your bottom lip, Miko didn't do as much as to slide it in your mouth, merely toying with you as if you were her prey.

"So? What did you think?" She asked, her question sounding more as a taunt while she studied your frustrated form.

"Wh-What?" You were lost, unsure of what she was talking about until you remembered. The tails! "That's cheating! You tricked me, I didn't get to see anything!"

"I warned you, it's not my fault that you closed your eyes."

You kept on pouting, giving her the cold shoulder. She was incorrigible.

"Fine, fine. If you buy this and a couple of more novels, perhaps I wouldn't mind showing what these tails can do... in private."

Heizou

I've literally known him for one day and he's risen to become one of my favorites. He deserves the world and I deserve TO ROLL HIM.

"There you are!" You exclaimed, wiping the sweat off your palms.

At last, this game of hide and seek had come to an end, after more than two hours of scouting the wilderness of Chinju Forest. When you set out this morning, all you wanted to do was check up on Heizou, wondering where he'd disappeared to these days. It wasn't uncommon for him to wander off, chasing after a lead or one of his infamous 'intuitions'. Still, finding him quite literally in the middle of nowhere was not what you expected.

"Oh? If it isn't Y/N!" He grinned, moving past the bushes and the trees. "Have you come to see me? Did you perhaps miss me ?"

"...Yes." You sighed. "You have any idea how long it's been?"

"Four days three hours and fifteen minutes?"

That... was oddly accurate.

"Are you surprised that I kept count? You know I'm a true romantic at heart." Heizou said, his smile softening up once he stood before you.

A couple of twigs and leaves nested in his hair, though he didn't see to mind and truthfully, neither did you. If anything, the disheveled look quite suit him.

"So, what was it this time? Apprehending a wild tanuki?" You joked, earning a giggle from him.

"Something like that."

Unless he planned on revealing his intentions, no good would come out of you questioning him. Besides, he was always like that whenever he took on a new case.

"Are you coming home tonight?"

"Once I catch myself a tanuki, I will." He assured.

"Well then, I'd better get goi-"

"Wait." Placing his index across his lips, he took a thorough look at you as if he was inspecting you. "My intuition tells me that you have something for me."

I do?

"I'm afraid you're in the wrong this time. I came empty handed." You turned your pockets inside out for him to see.

His eyes momentarily darted at your coat, before he shifted his attention back to your eyes. Taking a step closer, he forced you to stumble upon the trunk of a tree, your hands grasping at the rough surface behind.

"Y/N, have you yet to understand that my intuition is never wrong?"

Without giving you the opportunity to protest, Heizou leaned forward, his lively chuckle getting caught between your lips. His hand fell onto your hips, pulling you against him while he bit down playfully, his rough grip contradicting his teasing. You sighed, your fingertips gnawing at the tree, relishing the feeling you'd been so depraved of. It had been so long, too long, you realized.

Heizou always kissed you as if he meant to prove a point and this time was no exception. He was right, you came to realize. There was always something for you to give him, whether that something was your heart, your body or even all you had to give.

Breaking off the kiss, you caught a glimpse of his green orbs glimmering with mischief.

"What else does your intuition say?"

"My intuition tells me that..." He crooked his finger, tapping it lightly against your nose. "I should charge you with obstruction of justice."

"What? Why?"

"Hm? You came here to seduce me, didn't you?"

"I did not!" You were unable to hide your surprise, your jaw nearly dropping at his accusation. He was unbelievable.

"I'm leaving, bye!"

"Damn, that's unfortunate. Very unfortunate." Heizou pouted. "I wouldn't mind turning a blind eye, but if you must go..."

Somehow when you returned home that night, you felt even more frustrated than before.

Beidou

"Has the woman of the hour decided to make her appearance?" You arched a brow, watching as the brunette made her way inside the storage room, a half finished bottle of wine rattling in her hands.

Though you were unsure what the occasion was, the whole crew seemed to be in a great mood. Even when you were in the lowest part of the ship, you were still able to hear the hearty laughter and the rowdy noise from above. With our without her, the party seemed to be going strong.

"Mhm, aren't you glad that you can have me all to yourself?" Beidou exclaimed, closing the door behind her.

" I'd be more glad if you took better care of yourself. You reek of booze!" You frowned, nodding towards the bottle. Even if she could hold her liquor, such great amount could do more harm than good.

"That's just my natural odor! Besides, why shouldn't we celebrate our successes? Come on, Y/N, don't be such a buzzkill. Here, this should help you loosen up." She swung the bottle, ushering for you to take it.

With a sigh, you ended up complying. If the price of getting her to stop drinking for the night was you taking a sip, then perhaps you'd be able to live with that.

Throwing your head back, you felt the sweet taste of dandelion wine along with its welcoming warmth flowing through your body. She was right, it was quite good.

"So what are we celebrating here?" You asked, holding the bottle outside her reach.

Momentarily, you caught sight of Beidou's eyes darting between the bottle and a couple of crates in the far back. Come to think of it, you did inventory every day, yet this was the first time you spotted these ones. That's odd, you thought to yourself as you approached them.

"Is it behind these crates?" You placed a hand on one of the lids.

"No, Y/N, wait!"

Before she had the time to pull your fingers off the box, you were able to take a peak at its contents; more unregistered Inazuman merchandise.

Making the most out of your stunned expression, Beidou snatched the bottle back from your hands, pursing it tight against her pursed lips. A dark red shade dripped onto her chin and clothes, with the majority of the liquor failing to find its target.

"Now what should we do to silence you?" Though a silly smile trembled across her face, her scarlet orbs gleamed with a certain determination, one that had you wondering what her true intentions were.

Freeing her hands of the bottle, Beidou soon had you trapped between the crates and her body, her knee pressing right between your thighs. You gasped, a grave mistake considering how easily you gave her access to your parted lips, her tongue sliding right between.

With one hand wrapped around your waist, she kept you in place, making sure you got to taste the foul taste of the alcohol you detested. However, coming from her lips, you had to admit; it tasted rather sweet. You closed your eyes, forgetting all about the cargo and her illegal activities, merely focusing on how good her tongue felt upon yours.

It didn't take long for her to get carried away. Soon, her other hand had joined the knee between your legs, her fingers kneading at the soft skin of your thighs, crawling higher and higher, until she had your mind spiraling.

"B-Beidou, that's the opposite of silencing." You complained, sighing to her touch.

The sound of her chuckle forced your eyes to open up, peering at her pleased expression.

"I'll let you be as loud as you want to, if you can keep this our little secret."

Bonus? Kinda! Like I said, I'm not sure if I misread your request by doing it in a small scenario kind of way, so I'll include some headcanons here ;-;

Xiao:

He is usually hesitant to kiss you. Doesn't take initiative most of the time, allowing his fears of tainting you to take the better of him. On the rare occasion he does, it's full of frustration, directed at the world, the gods, himself and yes, even his feelings for you. Mostly that.

Also, most definitely all of his kisses have a romantic backdrop, considering they mostly happen underneath the moonlight or generally out in the open.

Xiao is especially fond of kissing your back and shoulders. He is shy and kind of inexperienced, so when you have your back on him, it gives him the freedom to do as he pleases.

Childe:

He can be pretty cheeky with his kisses, demanding that you pay attention to him wherever you are. The world doesn't matter to him as long as you keep your eyes at him and your lips against his. Though he can be very generous with his teasing, he is also plenty affectionate, especially when returning from one of his trips. Possessive and playful, it's not surprising that he can be like an actual child.

One of his favorite spots to kiss, is your collarbones and neck. He loves decorating you with pretty hickeys that are sure to stay, and if you complain about it, he won't mind wrapping his scarf around you. The idea of you wearing his clothes is exhilarating to him.

Yae Miko:

Speaking of cheekiness, Yae probably invented that. She uses her kisses both to reward, bribe, and also to tease you. She loves seeing your flustered expressions, seriously, the more you blush, the cuter you appear to her. Enjoys being the one who takes the lead, although if you try mixing things up, she won't say not to that. If anything, she might praise you too.

Absolutely loves kissing you between your thighs and breasts. She tries many things on you to see what induces the best reaction. Sometimes it can be ticklish, as she might chuckle against your skin, or let a couple of her tails loose in the heat of the moment. She only does such things for you though.

Heizou:

He is the kind of guy who acts as if he is going to kiss you, builds up an entire mood around it and then just leaves you hanging. Loves his mind games and as long as you can keep up with him, he'll be glued to you. Sometimes he can be teasing and overly flirty, even in public, but if you are the one to kiss him, he'll melt. Even if it doesn't show, Heizou can be emotionally attached and will almost always greet you with a kiss.

Okay yes, his hangout event got to me but, neck / ear kisses. Doesn't mind moving slow and taking his time, considering he finds entertainment in making you guess what he'll do next. With his face buried in your nape, you can't see what he is doing. You can only feel his hot breath against your skin, his teeth gently grazing your lobe as they nibble against it and of course, his lighthearted chuckle. After all, he is quite giddy.

Beidou:

She is quite assertive and it shows. The majority of the time she kisses you, she does so with her entire body. Beidou likes to keep you close, cupping your face with her palms or wrapping her arms around your waist and shoulders. She doesn't shy off physical contact and that's why sometimes her kisses don't seem too innocent to the ones around. Not that she cares, after all, you are her most prized possession on board.

When away from prying eyes, Beidou loves to kiss your stomach and your thighs. Your skin is particularly soft there and your taste is better than the finest alcohol she could get her hands on. She is someone who'd prioritize making you feel good and would probably try her best to do so.

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 2 years ago

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Toddler and tiara: Meghan Markle STILL throwing tantrums about royal family By Maureen Callahan August 29, 2022

Lest anyone remain in doubt, Meghan Markle’s latest interview makes one thing clear: This woman has nothing to say. She has nothing to offer, no original thoughts or guiding philosophy, no earthly reason to be taking so much money from, and so much space in, the mainstream media she so clearly reviles.

You know, just as she reviles the British royal family, even as she clings to her title and accepts money from her father-in-law, the future king, who reportedly subsidized her and Harry’s $14.5 million mansion, purchased for their privacy.

Still, yet again, the Greta Garbo of Northern California sits for another major profile, this time for New York magazine. [not NY Magazine, A New York Magazine: The Cut.]

Forget the People’s Princess — now we’re saddled with the Petulant Princess, one whose preferred crown is perpetual victimhood. For the past three years she’s had a global platform, yet all she does with it is complain that she’s been censored, silenced, shut out. Meghan Markle has been a public downer longer than she was a working duchess. It’s long past time for a new talking point.

I must concede her lone accomplishment here: Just when you think Meghan Markle can’t get any more delusional, she outdoes herself. Her self-regard runs in direct opposition to her waning relevance. She clearly has no real friends left — or even decent publicists — because anyone with an iota of common sense would say, “You know, Meghan, it’s probably best not to compare yourself to Nelson Mandela.”

Reader, in this profile, Meghan Markle compares herself to Nelson Mandela. Settle in.

“I had just had Archie,” she says. “It was such a cruel chapter. I was scared to go out.” But go out she did — alas, there’s no keeping Meghan Markle down — to a performance of “The Lion King.” After, a South African cast member, she says, “looked at me, and he’s just like light. He said, ‘I just need you to know: When you married into this family, we rejoiced in the streets the same we did when Mandela was freed from prison.’ ”

Oh, this piece is full of howlers. Enjoy it. Savor the details. Don’t read it with your mouth full.

Anyone who’s read Tom Bower’s recent book knows that Meghan is an inveterate liar. But here we have the duchess in her natural habitat — a soulless mansion, Meghan “backlit by the late-morning light in a scene that looks like a Nancy Meyers cinematic interior, Town & Country, Goop, and Architectural Digest had an orgy” — and this only frees her up to reveal her most authentically inauthentic self in all her resentful glory.

We begin with the “invisible” help [sounds more like black magic seance] lighting a scented candle from the members-only Soho House — the founder, Meghan says, a friend. Annual dues run a little over $4,000. But remember: even though she wants to be known as a humanitarian, a feminist and a renegade, what’s equally important are all the famous people she knows and the exclusive, rich-people-only places she has access to.

Meghan opens the interview with the most millennial of revelations: “Do you want to know a secret?” she asks. “I’m getting back . . . on Instagram.”

Stop the presses, indeed!

Or . . . not? Meghan doubles back on that bold announcement almost immediately: She’s not sure, she says. She might not. Lots to consider.

What those factors are, she cannot say.

Oh — and this moment: “At one point in our conversation,” writes Allison P. Davis, “instead of answering a question, she will suggest how I might transcribe the noises she’s making: ‘She’s making these guttural sounds, and I can’t quite articulate what it is she’s feeling in that moment because she has no word for it; she’s just moaning.’ ”

This might be the single most insane thing I’ve ever read in a celebrity profile. Truly, it’s Charlie Kaufman-esque: Meghan evincing such pain she’s non-verbal, yet verbalizing why she’s ostensibly non-verbal to her profiler, who Meghan says should tell us that Meghan doesn’t know what she’s feeling because Meghan told her, in Meghan’s own words, that there are no words for it.

It’s celebrity profile by way of Kafka, and it says something that the hundreds of reader comments on New York mag’s site — a self-selecting group of self-identified feminist social justice warriors — mostly proclaim her phony, delusional and vapid, if not an outright liar.

What will make Meghan happy? Hell if she knows. The only solace she finds from this existential torment, it seems, is sitting for fancy photo shoots and talking to friendly journalists.

“When the media has shaped the story around you,” Meghan whines, “it’s really nice to be able to tell your own story.”

Here’s something this self-styled brilliant mind seems to have missed: A little thing called social media has long allowed for unmediated, unfiltered communication between celebrities and the rest of us, the great unwashed who still, despite Meghan cawing and crying on Oprah, or among starving African children (“nobody asks if I’m OK”), or her new podcast (more on that later), still don’t get how hard it is to be Meghan Markle, unappreciated duchess in exile, transcendent representation of rare greatness.

Why won’t we all just adore her?

Gwyneth Paltrow, consider yourself dethroned. We have a new Queen of All Things Insufferable.

“One of the first things my husband saw when we walked around the house was those two palm trees,” she says, touring her grounds with our ink-stained wretch. “See how they’re connected at the bottom? He goes, ‘My love, it’s us.’ And now every day when Archie goes by [the trees], he says, ‘Hi Momma. Hi, Papa.’ ”

Archie is three.

A note about that podcast: A lot of people listened to it, I know. I also firmly believe those ratings are the audio equivalent of rubbernecking. If the first episode — ostensibly an interview with Serena Williams — is reflective of the rest, this is really a podcast about Meghan Markle.

She leads with her oft-reported origin story [🤣] of Feminist Meghan, standing up to corporate America as an 11-year-old (a story Tom Bower surgically took apart as false), then asks us to marvel at her longtime friendship with Williams and endure another tall tale in which the royals and their staff do not care that baby Archie almost burned to death in South Africa.

The conversation is everything one would expect, Meghan going on about her “lived experience” — is there any other kind? — her “dear, dear friend Serena,” and the “labels, boxes and archetypes” that women still suffer. “Women” being proxy for Meghan, “archetypes” such as: Spoiled brat. Ungrateful. Delusional. Hypocrite.

Now, I will also admit that I didn’t think Markle could surpass the moment when, as a working royal, she spontaneously wrote inspirational messages — “you are strong,” “you are loved” — for sex workers. On bananas.

But here, we see a totally spontaneous and sugary everyday school pick-up — “She scoops [Archie] [child actor] up in a big hug so full of genuine emotion that both close their eyes” — turn into a teachable moment about the homeless.

“At a stoplight, [Meghan] reaches into the trunk and produces a brand-new black backpack and hands it to her security detail to give to an unhoused man on the corner.” [Because she's so concerned about her "security" she couldn't keep the bag inside her vehicle or ask her security to keep the bags inside their vehicle. Nope MM had to (roll down her window) jump up out of the vehicle to be seen. Poor homeless person was probably a paid plant.]

Yes, young American royal-non-royal Archie: If you want to give some food to a starving homeless person — peanut-butter crackers and granola bars, no whole meals or cash or the like — have the help do it. No need to get near poverty and filth yourself.

And then back we go to the Montecito manse, where Meghan has another ready anecdote about the grand piano Tyler Perry gave her as a housewarming gift, instructing her to “write the soundtrack for your life,” she says. So relatable. [Of course she must learn to play piano better than Kate😉.]

Meghan winds down by returning to her other favorite subject, forgiveness. Even though she won’t forgive her father, whose main crime has been talking to the media, she wants the royal family to know that someday, maybe, she might forgive them. She, of course, has nothing to be forgiven for. Why would one even ask?

“I think forgiveness is really important,” Meghan says, adding that she has “a lot to say until I don’t. Sometimes, as they say, the silent part is still part of the song.”

Meghan Markle, two very weary nations beg you: Please. Be that silent part.

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twistedmusings · 4 years ago

Text

Wake Up From Your Dream

A/N: I don't even know what I can SAY to this one except...I think I was so angry at not writing that I wrote smut outta SPITE? Can I be so angry with myself that I write Malleus smut to just get something out there? I guess I can. Anyways this ask certainly let my imagination fly q wq

Warnings: Non-con making its way into dub-con, manipulation, impregnating sex and Malleus realizing that family is really important.

You needed to find your way back to Night Raven College.

It has been so long since you’ve been back there, laughing and walking around as if there was no trouble in the world. Nevermind that you weren’t anywhere close to home and nevermind that your family was seeking you out.

As long as there was a possibility of you finding your way home, you had pretended that everything was going to be alright.

You were still a stranger to this world, you had no ties to this world and there would be no reason for you to stay once Crowley found your way back home. It was wonderful making friends with such a variety of people and watching them all grow in their own way. The way you knew you would grow from this experience as well.

Watching Ace and Deuce really come into themselves and their Unique Magic, watching the dorm leaders step into their positions of power and truly start to make a name for themselves that would help them out in their own version of the ‘real’ world. Riddle had gotten a wonderful position befitting of his family name, Leona was actually graduating, Azul was said to open a Monstro Lounge in the Coral Sea while Kalim had started investing time in his father’s trade without having Jamil help him. Even Idia was starting to take strides in his own field!

And you were proudest of Malleus. One simple conversation outside of Ramshackle had turned into a friendship you thought you would never forget. It was so wonderful to see him interact more with students, shyly following after you as you pushed him to talk more to others despite his position. That was what college was for, right? To experience new things and find your future--

You just didn’t think that Malleus would take it that far.

Was it because he was spoiled? No, even though he was born in a monarchy he still did his best to remain kind to others, especially his subjects. You were sure he was going to make a kind king in the future, even if you never got to see with your own two eyes.

You pull the hood over your head as you enter a bath house, the fae receiving you with a curious look and a smile as you hand her 2000 madols.

“Will you be booking a room tonight as well?”

“Just a simple shower and bath, that is all.”

If you were to make a guess, you were in the borders of the Valley of Thorns, a more rural area compared to the now rather modernized capital. You had stolen enough money to get you by for a few trips and you knew that places like these were the best at getting you directions. It had been a bit of a grueling trip, testing your knowledge of the fae language as well as avoiding questions about who you were and why you so desperately needed to make your way back to such a prestigious college. In a sense, you kept it minimal.

You needed to get back home.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

The mantra you kept repeating to yourself was whispered under your breath as you removed your articles of clothing slowly, still looking around to see if anybody had followed you in. But this is what was raising all of the hairs on your body, wasn’t it? This constant vigilance that didn’t let you sleep at night. You needed to relax, no one else would come this far.

You feel the fatigue melt as several days of walking are washed right off your body, a smile slowly creeping up on your face as you wash the dirt and oil from your hair.

It would be fine.

You would make it to Night Raven College and sneak into the Hall of Mirrors before wishing yourself back home. Crowley had said that they had pinned down the world you lived in and only after you make your wish would the connection be broken. This most likely meant that the connection was still intact since you didn’t even get a chance to to look at the mirror before you were whisked away.

Everything was going to work itself out, that’s the most you could promise yourself.

The bath is heavenly, the temperate water cooling you down from the hot shower as you look around.

There were no other patrons.

“Good.”

You lean back and press your head against a soft pillow of towels, enjoying the silence as you feel your worries soften while thinking back to what you would do when you were back home. It had been so long since you’ve seen some of your friends, your family was probably worried sick and you still had your own plans you wanted to get through.

If you had time, you could maybe drop by to see how your first year friends were doing?

Or were they in their third year now?

Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?

Your eyes close as you let yourself relax entirely, almost succumbing to sleep.

Only for a hand to grab your throat, the other covering your eyes as you hear a familiar chuckle that tenses your body up and breaks your heart.

“I am afraid we will have to postpone this shower.”

Tears well up in the corner of your eyes as you hear the sound of footsteps into the area, most likely the royal guard.

“Lilia--”

“You’d do well to stay put lest they chase after you.”

The hands covering your eyes pull back as you see a teasing smile looking down pitifully at your fresh set of tears.

“It has taken far too long to find you, Your Majesty.”

-----

“HUMAN!”

“[Y/N]-san!”

Lilia smiles as he leads you by the hand, the royal guard following close behind as Sebek and Silver join him.

“He might have already woken up, Father.”

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? DO YOU KNOW WHAT MY YOUNG MASTER HAS GONE THROUGH?”

“Sebek.” Lilia looks at his charge, “Quiet. Malleus might still be sleeping.”

Silver takes one peek at you, trying to meet your gaze but pulling away when he sees that the veil Lilia had put on you is blocking anybody’s stares from seeing your face. In fact, the second in command had put you in one of the traditional outfits for fae royalty, complete with a light veil that flowed down from the silver circlet placed on your head.

“Excellent.”

Lilia turns his attention to you and laughs.

“He has been absolutely miserable since you left. It was quite a surprise to all of us when you managed to leave the palace walls. None of us thought that you had really done it, especially him, and it really was a hassle to search the palace up and down to see just where our little human had run off to.”

His voice drops to a whisper as he brings your hand up to his lips.

“I’ll make sure to punish you for that later.”

The older fae leads you along as you finally reach your destination, smiling as he knocks on large wooden doors while pushing you slightly to stand in front of everybody.

An answer he was going to get by the end of the night.

“Malleus.”

No answer. He tests the doors and nods when he sees they are unlocked, opening them as he leads you to step inside so that you both could see the figure drenched in moonlight, looking out the window as if awaiting for an answer.

Lilia waits for his other charge to say anything but shrugs as he looks at you with a smile and a bow.

“We are glad to have you back, Your Majesty.”

The door closes with a loud click as you turn your eyes to look up at the imposing figure, your nails digging into your fingertips enough to draw blood as you try to hold back from screaming and shouting at him to stop acting like such a child. Yet you do not wish to anger him, at least to save yourself from any sort of harsher punishment.

So instead you make your way over to the bed--

Only for the fae to turn around, grab your wrist and slam your back into the rough stone wall. Bright green eyes glare down at you as you wince in pain, still looking away from him but letting out a yelp when Malleus’s fingers grab your chin and force you to look at him in the eye.

“Why did you run?”

He really had no idea, did he?

“Because I don’t belong here--”

Malleus tightens his hold on your wrist.

“We’ve discussed this before, child of man, you belong here just like anybody else, you are my Queen--”

“Malleus wake UP!”

You push against his hold but the fae’s hold gets tighter, most likely leaving a mark. But that wouldn’t deter you, not anymore, you were going to tell him.

“I’m not from this world! Coming to Twisted Wonderland was just an accident! A stupid, stupid accident that no one bothered to fix! And just when we were close to making it right you---you--!”

Shit, you’re crying again.

“I have people waiting for me. Just like you had a family waiting for you. I came to the Valley of Thorns thinking that I was supporting you during your coronation but you just--made a decision entirely by yourself and announced me as yours! Why did you lie to me? To them?!”

Malleus’s hold softens as you finally let your tears flow freely, wishing to wipe them away only due to how weak they were making you look.

“...did you not say you loved me?”

“I did! I did but--Malleus after what you did I can’t--”

He lets go of your wrist only to cup your face as he leans down to press his lips on your cheek, his tongue licking up the warm tears as you grab hold of his wrists to try and push him away.

“Do you miss your family?”

You nod as he moves to kiss the corner of your eyes.

“More than anything…”

The dragon fae hums, letting his lips stay where they were a few seconds longer before chuckling as he pulls you close.

“I see--I really have been cruel to you, haven’t I?”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat at his words, hands clutching at his robes as you quickly nod. Maybe this was it, maybe it had taken you breaking down to let him see reason?

Please. Please!

“...A family.”

Malleus’s words are like dripped honey as a thought formed in his head, the thought taking shape and form as his hands clutched you tighter.

“Then we’ll just need to make a family of our own…”

-----

Hands clutch at his sheets as Malleus takes in the shape under him.

How beautiful could you be? How complex? To him it was as if not a day had passed since you first met. What had been mere curiosity had delved into deep affection and blossomed into a love that Malleus would only read about in fairytales. The sort of books that led him to believe in soulmates, in happily ever after’s and the possibility of spending the rest of your life with the one you loved.

And yes, you weren’t a fae, but the power of his magic was grand enough to keep you tied to him for the rest of eternity.

His lips can’t help but seek out yours as he thinks about how he is the one who will decide when you die.

This love hadn’t started out like this. What he felt for you had been a bit more relaxed, a lot softer and dreamier. You had confessed to him after his Overblot incident and he had gladly accepted your feelings. He was still keen on finding you a way home and promised himself to not let any moment be wasted in thinking how you soon would be far away from him.

Every day was spent happily with you, the rest of the school year flying by as you both enjoyed the time you still had together.

But Malleus was still a dragon at heart, a fae that yearned and longed to take and take.

So when thoughts about you leaving started to make their way to the forefront of his mind, not even your constant love and affection could keep him from his instincts.

You would leave him to go back to your world. Go back to the normal and the familiar. As you walked your path, you would eventually find someone that enchanted you the way he had, all ending with you walking down a beautiful aisle to your now beloved.

A person that wasn’t...him.

As the days of his third year started to run to a close, his hold on you had become a lot tighter, his kisses a lot more possessive and in the end he had invited you to watch his coronation as he entered his fourth and final year.

With his announcement of making you his Queen.

“Malleus! Please I can’t--I’m not ready--!”

He let Lilia make up some story about you not returning to Night Raven, fooling Crowley into believing that you had found your future in the Valley of Thorns with him. The announcement of you taking up the role of Queen had been surprising but Malleus had woven the story in such a way that there had been talks of having it printed for others to read.

It was a wonderful ending to your love story, you ending up in his arms. But something was missing…

Malleus was glad that you had given him the answer.

Both of your knees were on either side of his waist, your hands clutching at whatever they could as his cock buried itself deep into your cunt. The veil was long forgotten as his robes and your own are thrown carelessly around the room while you wail and scream at being broken into by such a thick length. The small sight of blood on his cock made Malleus smile as he pushed in further, the tightness that was pushing him back slowly opening up for him as he watched you do your best to fit him inside.

It would be fine, you would be fine.

With a growl he finally bottoms out, two hands holding your hips and forcing you down to take all of him as the tip of his cock pressed right under your womb--

He shivers as you tighten up again, leaning down to lick up the trail of tears on your cheek before eating up your tiny whimpers with a hungry kiss.

“Here...right here is where our family will start.”

A large hand takes yours as Malleus puts it right over the small bulge on your stomach, your eyes growing wide as you realize just how deep inside he is. He kisses you again, not daring to break away as he lets a trail of saliva dangle from his lips to yours, the clear liquid disappearing into your mouth as your body relaxed and your eyes grew hazy.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

It was a simple question, but your brain seemed muddled from his kiss. Dragons tended to excrete a certain liquid as they got ready to mate, the experience painful even within his own species but being eased with the help of saliva, sweat or cum.

And with the way he was pressed against you, his sweat matted on your skin as he let more of his spit drip down his tongue and onto yours...surely the answer would come the more you two worked to start your family.

Malleus hardly gave you any time to recover as he started to move, his eyes entranced with the way he disappeared into you with each thrust. Your mind was still muddled but your body was already eagerly accepting him, your legs wrapping around him slowly before locking him in place as he repeated the question.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

You open your mouth but the only word that comes out is a plea for him to go faster.

Which Malleus gladly listens to.

It didn’t take long for him to start pounding into you at a brutal pace, every thrust having the tip of his cock slamming against your womb as your toes curled from the pleasure of taking him so deep. His cock disappeared inside your tiny cunt, shaft now coated not just with blood but with your arousal as well. The bed creaked in protest while the sounds of the bed frame hitting the wall helped him keep time, Malleus leaning back down to kiss you again as your lips this time part eagerly and sucked on his tongue while your hands clutched his shoulders and horns.

Cries turned into happy moans, your sad and abandoned look now one of pure ecstasy as your pussy flutters and tightens around him, pushing him to go harder and harder so he could---!

“[Y/N]--!”

Your legs close tighter around him as you bury your face on the crook of his neck, your orgasm being ripped from you unexpectedly as Malleus halted his movements with a stiff body. He drops his head on your shoulder as your legs keep him in place.

“Malleus...ah--!”

He groans as he paints the inside of your walls white, the warmth of his cum filling your womb to the point that what you hadn’t taken merely dripped out onto the now stained sheets. Malleus lifts his head to look down at you, smiling as he sees your eyes staring up at him eagerly despite how much you had protested before.

“A family…”

You smile as Malleus nods, your hands going all the way to your stomach as you feel the warmth start to twist your brain even more.

“A family with you…how wonderful…”

Arms wrap around him as Malleus kisses a trail from your shoulder to your lips. He just needed to ask you one last time.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

With a hum, your answer is whispered into his ear as Malleus closes his eyes as he realizes that this is where his happily ever after would finally start.

“I love you Malleus, more than anything else.”

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst mc #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst smut #twst imagines #fem reader #twst x reader #adult section #requests #//and to those who have been sending me nice messages #//thank you q wq

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mothandpidgeon · 4 years ago

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REPUTATION - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Words: 3615

Rating: T

Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n

Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.

A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.

Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.

And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.

MASTERLIST

You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.

Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.

You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.

Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.

“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.

Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.

“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.

“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”

“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”

You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.

The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.

Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.

It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.

But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.

For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.

You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.

You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.

You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.

Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.

You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.

Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.

Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.

“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.

You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.

Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.

“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.

Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.

“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”

Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”

“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.

Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.

“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.

“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.

Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?

“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.

“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.

“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”

You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.

“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”

“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.

“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.

It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.

Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.

“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.

“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”

You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.

“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.

“No, of course!” she scoffed.

“What was he like?” Julia asked.

“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.

“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.

You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.

“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”

“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.

“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.

This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.

“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”

You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.

“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.

You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.

But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.

After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.

Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.

You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.

“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”

The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.

“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.

You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.

You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.

Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.

On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.

You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.

There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.

“Hello,” you said to him.

He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.

He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.

“What’s that?”

The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.

“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”

The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.

“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.

He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.

Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.

This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.

That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.

“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.

His jaw clenched and he nodded.

“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.

His head tilted just slightly.

“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”

You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.

“Ebba!” he cried.

You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.

“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.

His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.

“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”

You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”

The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.

“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”

He turned to go back up the path.

“Wait!” you called.

You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.

The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.

“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.

Your chest felt tight.

“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.

--- Chapter 2

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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illusion

— does one dare wake up from the illusion of love?

meal order: 🥞🍷 + 20, 58 (assassin! reader, oblivious! noritoshi) + 13 (thigh riding) + love at first sight + “wait, are you flirting with me?” + “have been since the beginning, thanks for finally noticing.”

warnings: attempted murder, sexual content, character death, angst, dark themes of violence, unedited fic

note: thank you for the request! it was really challenging to write this but i’m all up for trying new things!

word count: 4k+

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re slacking.”

You glared at the dark haired man before you who was greedily sucking on a cigarette, the cloudy puffs of smoke breathed into your face. “Shut up, Toji,” you pressed your lips before waving your hand to get rid of the smoke. He was so rude, but because he was stronger and a far more skilled than you were, you wouldn’t dare fight back or complain. He knew this too; a smug smirk painting his dark, handsome features. “I’m just struggling, is all.”

“You, struggling?” his head tipped back in laughter, “Weren’t you so arrogant that you’d do anything for money?”

“And I still will. There’s just a sudden change of circumstances.”

“Such as?” he raised a brow challengingly, huge arms crossed over his equally muscular chest. Leaning over your window like that with the lights dimmed low, Toji looked absolutely threatening. You had no qualms that he’d rip your head off if given the order and enough money to do so, so you had to be careful with your words lest you wanted to die – or worse; he becomes a victim of this merciless man.

You narrowed your eyes, fists bunching up to your ripped black jeans. “A change of mind.”

“It seems like you had a change of heart too,” he noted, and you cursed inwardly. Fuck, of course he’d notice. Before you could come on the defense, Toji pushed himself away from the window with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “But whatever. Good luck, kid. I’ll just hope that you get to kill your target before the bosses kill you first.”

“I’m not going to die. It’s not like I changed or anything.”

“Yeah, not like you’re giggling just down the hall staring at your target’s picture,” he rolled his eyes, snorting to himself. “Because that’s totally normal for us assassins, right?”

“Oh, shut up, Toji. Don’t you have better things to do than annoy me?”

“I’m never missing the opportunity to mess with ya, kid,” you held back a groan when he messed up your hair, your precious untouchable hair. “Oh, and the boss called. He said if we still don’t have the head by tonight, I’m being sent in,” your heart dropped at his words, silence coating the room. Nothing but your frantic heartbeat pulsed at the tip of your tongue as your hands grew sweaty and slippery, but Toji’s next words had you looking up at him with wide eyes. “Go and get your precious lover before I come around, kid. I’m not going to be nice just for you.”

Was it a warning? A threat? A heads-up? Fuck, nothing mattered anymore – you had to finish your mission before it was too late.

The sound of Toji slamming the door behind you finally snapped you from your dazed state. Greeting you was the sight of your dark, lifeless room – empty and gray like how you were. Before you met him. But things were different now; in your mission of bringing death and shedding blood, you came across the person who gave you life and meaning to this…this bland and pathetic excuse of a life.

If you didn’t move sooner, it would be too late.

Teeth gritted, you were quick on your feet as you swiped up your handy blade, bandages wrapping around your fists for protection before you followed Toji out, only this time, the man was already gone.

You needed to move. Now.

Noritoshi stepped inside his room with a soft sigh, eyes closed and pretty, masculine hands loosening his inner shirt. Perhaps it was because his window was still kept shut and not a sound could be heard from his room that he let his guard down, and nothing but a slight hiss fell from his lips when you lunged at him, blade pressed against his neck.

He was unable to move with one of your arms keeping his arms pinned to his own body, the other holding the blade firmly to his delicate skin. A slight trickle of blood dripped down his porcelain skin when you edged it a little harder, the shaky inhale from Noritoshi causing your mind to fall into ruin. But not now – you wouldn’t give in right now. You had a mission to finish; one you had to complete successfully like you always did.

“What are you doing?” He asked calmly, voice soothing and still so gentle even as you breathed hard on his ear. There was no trace of anger or even malice – just the usual doting kindness Noritoshi always gave just for you. You hated it; hated every single about him. “How did you get in here?”

“I need to kill you.”

“You’re still going through with that?” his fingers caressed your thigh, eliciting a soft gasp from you when Noritoshi only leaned closer to your touch, tilting his head so he could peer into your blazing eyes. “I thought we were past this already.”

You laughed at his words before sneering, “This doesn’t change anything. I will kill you somehow, Noritoshi Kamo. And when I’ve got your head in the palm of my hands, I’ll be filthy rich.”

“Then why don’t you get it over with?” he stepped closer to the blade itself, almost pushing you to the edge with his movements. “Come here and see if you’re strong enough.”

You growled threateningly when more blood trailed down and stained his shirt. Instantly, you shoved your blade away from him until it switched to one of his tied side bangs, the hair falling onto the ground with a thump. “Testing me, huh? Are you doubting my skills, Kamo?”

“Not the least bit, no,” he shook his head, refusing to move from your suffocating hold. If anything, he made himself comfortable in your arms, a lopsided smile on his annoyingly handsome features.

You’ve heard rumors that your target was popular among his people and even had countless marriage proposals already; one you didn’t believe until you met the man himself, and as if reminding you of the difficulty of the situation, you just had to be one of those women who nearly fell at his feet. But could anyone blame you? Which sane person would be able to uphold their mission when Noritoshi Kamo leaned close like that, the tip of his nose brushing yours and the warmth of his breath kissing your lips?

“I’ve heard of you – you’ve got quite the reputation,” his dark eyes trailed over your lips that were fallen open, your breathing still hard and ragged. Noritoshi hummed to himself, his tongue darting out to moisten his pink flesh. “Which is why I can’t seem to comprehend why I’m still alive. Could it be there’s something else that you want more than money?”

“Perhaps I do,” you smirked, trying to ignore the way you felt like you were the one being held captive this time. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Choose the intelligent option, of course. I’ll negotiate with you.”

“And if what I want is unattainable?”

His response came as a reflex: “Nothing is unattainable with money.”

“Always the confident one, huh, Kamo?” you scoffed with a ‘tsk’ of your tongue, “One day, I’m going to break this noble leader act of yours. Soon, you’ll fall into this same trap of hell as I have, and maybe then we’ll both be a little crazy,” at your suggestion, Noritoshi only raised a brow, tilting his head to the side as he released a soft sight. You couldn’t read his face and it irked you to no end, a grin masking your irritation as you twirled the blade around your fingers. “What’s wrong, Kamo? Cat got your tongue?”

“Hmm. You really are beautiful, you know that?”

“Huh?” you stepped back as you fell aghast, your jaw dropping while Noritoshi only smiled. Fuck that smile – he had no business being this gorgeous, and you only sneered louder when his skin began to heal. “You out of your mind, Kamo? Are you forgetting who I am?”

“The pretty assassin who’s been out to get me for months now but still hasn’t killed me for whatever odd reason?” Your face burned at the way he nonchalantly said it, but Noritoshi didn’t give you time to recover as he stepped forwards, closer, his hands brushing up against the pads of your cheek. “No, I haven’t forgotten who you are. I could never forget you – not when you’ve been chasing me and we’ve been playing this game of chase for who knows how long.”

“Careful, Kamo. What would your precious elders say if they find out you’re fraternizing with the enemy?” you chuckled at the image of Noritoshi having his ear talked down by those annoying, traditional elders, but the smile fell off your face when Noritoshi continued to stare at you. “Wait, did you just call me pretty? Like, as in, pretty pretty?”

“Yes, and now you’re blushing like crazy,” he booped your nose, firing up the bubbling anger inside you. How dare he mock you like this! Your feet planted on the ground as you prepared to lunge at him when Noritoshi stilled, his strong arms wrapping around your wrist tight enough that even you froze at how strong he was. Had he been holding back on you this whole time? Could he have really easily fought back against you but chose not to for whatever messed up reason?

Before you could get your answer, Noritoshi’s eyes slid over to yours, this time wide with worry. The smile left his face. “You should leave. They’re coming.”

You blinked back up at him helplessly, your body almost turning limp. Seeing that you weren’t moving fast enough, Noritoshi frowned, wrapping your fingers tighter around your blade before pointing to his window where you’d broken in a while ago. “You need to go. Now.”

“C-Can I see you again tonight?” you found yourself asking, legs already perched on the windowsill. You knew it was pathetic, to have trembling pouty lips when you were seconds away from making a deadly fall and yet you were more worried about him. The thought of Toji coming the moment he heard you still hadn’t killed Noritoshi made your hands and legs shake, heart clenching painfully with fear. Noritoshi may be strong, but he was nothing against Toji. “I want to see you again,” and again and again and again – for as long as you were allowed.

Though you’d never tell him that.

Not that you needed to, though, because Noritoshi could read you better than yourself, and he only smiled, never making fun of how vulnerable and horrible you were at keeping your feelings a secret. You were too easy to read sometimes, or maybe he just had a skill of knowing everything that ran in your mind.

“Would it stop you if I said no?”

“Of course not,” you frowned, then looked out the setting sun that held an ominous vibe to it now. Eyes closed and a sad heart begging to be closer to him, you buried it all deep within, turning to Noritoshi with an aching smile. “Live your life to the fullest, Kamo. This might just be your last day.”

Noritoshi chuckled softly to himself. “I’ll keep the windows open, then.”

It was way past midnight, and neither you nor Toji came around. He’d already heard that someone else was sent for him due to his precious little lover falling in love with him at first sight that caused her to fail her mission, and Noritoshi paced around his room, arms folded on his chest as he thought of the different ways they could’ve executed you already.

He hadn’t known you for a long enough time to know everything about you. It didn’t help that you weren’t the most open either, refusing to tell him more about your life and the people you worked for whenever he asked.

Noritoshi understood your discomfort when it came to sensitive topics like that.

It wasn’t easy, after all, to talk about the countless people whose lives you’d taken for money prior to meeting him. Noritoshi was well-aware he was another name on your hit list that could be crossed out had it been under different circumstances; circumstances such as him easily defeating you on the first day you met him before he had you pinned to the ground, both your bodies panting heavily.

One thing led to another, and Noritoshi grew an obsession with you.

It was fucked up, to say the least – that he actually looked forward to having you jump on him out of nowhere, bringing different weapons and techniques for various ways to kill him this time.

There was one time you both went out on a date, glasses covering your eyes and hats pulled over so no one would recognize any of you walking into the dark movie theatre. None of you could pay attention to the movie when you placed yourself in his lap, and suddenly he felt so thankful he bought the whole theatre for himself because he sure as hell couldn’t keep his voice down while you rode his dick like he was just a mere plaything.

Your hands then travelled around his neck as you pulled him in for a searing kiss. Second by second, his vision grew faint with his head dizzy, the air being knocked out of him as you crushed his windpipe with increasing pressure.

He wasn’t surprised that you would try to kill him while cumming around his cock – you were the most painful pleasure that could kill him, literally – and he had to push you off so hard your head hit the ground until you were knocked out.

Noritoshi had lost count of the times you tried to kill him, purely because you always tried to seduce him one way or another.

He believed it was one of your strategies into luring your prey right into your trap, which he fell for every single time. The rational part of himself (which wasn’t that much when it came to you to begin with) told him to increase his security, to always be prepared and have some sort of weapon or blood readied out to defend himself, but him being him, he always kept the window unlocked.

Noritoshi was reminded of his mistakes when his back was harshly kicked, his arm painfully bent and pressed to his lower back while your knee planted itself onto his spine, your sweet laughter bouncing from his ears. “Wasn’t expecting me, Kamo?” you teased, twisting his arm hard enough that he winced at the pain. “I thought you’d be ready.”

“I’m never ready for you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Even in his slightly limped state, Noritoshi managed a smile. “Why? Does it make you want to kill me less?”

“Oh, you’re vermin, Kamo. My blood boils every time I see you!”

Perhaps you weren’t any better than him. You let your guard down too easily when it came to your emotions flaring up, and before you knew it, Noritoshi had pushed himself off the ground and flipped you under him, knee planted between your legs and your arms pinned to your side.

Your blade fell with a pathetic clang on the floor.

You struggled against his hold despite the comfort of having him above you like this, his gorgeous muscles displayed through his poor excuse of a shirt. Noritoshi only slammed your arms harder on the ground to keep you immobile, his words gentle and too sweet in comparison to his roughness.

He leaned closer, eyes filled with adoration and lust staring down at you. You thought he would kiss you when his lips suddenly turned the other way, his tongue prodding on the lobe of your ear that had you gasping underneath him.

The sound of your breathy whines had his blood shooting straight up onto his cock, pressing his now hardening erection against your heated core that he’d had the privilege of fucking and eating countless of times before – though he’d never get tired of it; he would never get tired of you.

“Then why do you keep coming back?”

“What else, idiot?”

Your irritated response had him pulling him back, his brows furrowed as he loosened his hold on you. Just like that, Noritoshi let go of you, his back hitting his bed frame as he frowned, pointing to himself in disbelief. “Wait, are you flirting me?”

That earned him a roll of your eyes in response. You pushed yourself up from the floor and glared at him, massaging the bruises that would form into your skin soon. “Have been since the beginning, thanks for finally noticing.”

“I thought getting me to bed was one of your ways to kill me,” he scratched his head, and he really shouldn’t be looking that cute. “I don’t know whether to be afraid or flattered—”

Noritoshi wouldn’t stop rambling on and on about how this whole time, he had no idea you liked him back and he’d endlessly chastised himself for falling for an assassin. Quite frankly, you had too much of his endless babbling that you pushed him until he fell on the bed, not wasting any time before you planted yourself on his lap and sitting on it like a throne.

“Shut up and kiss me, Kamo.”

When you grinded on his erection, Noritoshi lost it. He no longer had control of himself before he kissed you madly, his hands bunching your shirt up and helping you fling it to the side. Pupils blown wide as if he’d never seen you bare before, Noritoshi pushed the cups of your bra above your breasts, his lips latching onto a perky nipple while his other hand tweaked it between his fingers.

Your head fell back in pleasure as you let him ravage you, soft little gasps leaving your lips while you rode his thigh.

Noritoshi groaned into your breasts at the sight of you eagerly fucking yourself on his thigh, moaning louder when he clenched and you bounced you above his muscle.

“If I’d known you’d look this beautiful riding me like this,” his mouth left your lips before he settled onto your neck instead, nipping and tugging at the skin until he was sure he’d have you marked black and blue. “I would’ve opened my windows long ago,” he cupped your breasts, his cock twitching in his pants as you rubbed your clit all over his pants, mewling when one of his fingers rubbed at your clothed folds. “Do you think it’s fate?”

You laughed through the drunken state of pleasure, “You’re asking me if it’s fate that I’m sent to kill you but I’m fucking you here instead?”

“That’s one way to word it.”

“I don’t know, I don’t care,” your head fell on his shoulders as you clenched around nothing. Noritoshi took it upon himself to tug your panties to the side, his cock only hardening further because you wore a skirt for him tonight, almost as if you were expecting to be fucked senseless by his dick.

Well, if that was your wish, then who was he to deny you?

The feeling of you sliding down his length had you both moaning and groaning, the stretch of him feeling you up to the brim too magnificent to describe. Noritoshi pulled you closer until your tits were right at his face, free for him to kiss and worship. You whimpered when Noritoshi’s large hands cupped your ass to bring you upwards, your moan shattered and shaky as he let gravity drop you down his thick length, the pattern of you bouncing onto him sending heat all over your body.

“One thing’s for sure,” you managed through gritted teeth, “It’s definitely an unfortunate curse that I can’t kill you because I’m so in love with you.”

Noritoshi stopped with his movements, letting you rest at the base of his cock instead while you caught your breaths. Your eyes were closed, fingers clenching tight at the material of his shirt. Noritoshi didn’t need for you to tell him more to understand that you were risking a lot more than he was for falling with one another, because you’ve failed your mission, and a failed mission always guaranteed a most painful death.

“Hey,” Noritoshi tapped your cheek, “Hey, look at me,” he grabbed your chin to force you to look at him, and his gaze softened when tears shone into those pretty eyes of yours. You’ve never let him see you cry before, but you couldn’t help it, teeth sinking into your lip to stop the tears from flowing while Noritoshi’s strong arms wrapped around you comfortingly. “I’ll protect you, okay?”

“You say that as if I can’t look after myself.”

“I know you can. You did just nearly break my arm, so I’m not worried,” you both laughed, and he smiled wider upon seeing that you’ve livened up a little bit. That was all he wanted to see – to see you smile. “But I mean it. I’ll protect you – take care of you. You can abandon your old life and just live with me.”

“But I’m a regular, boring human. You’re about to be head of the Kamo Clan – what could I possibly offer?”

“Everything and nothing, but know that I’m not asking or expecting anything from you,” his thumbs were gentle as he cupped your cheek, “Just stay here. With me. We’ll work it out.”

You fell silent, unable to process the gravity of his words. The more you thought about it, the more it enticed you. No more killing, no more crying yourself to sleep or trying to hold back a scream as you washed the blood off your body, no more images of the people you’ve killed haunting you everywhere you went. Instead, you could live a happy life with Noritoshi. He was powerful and influential – he could easily give you a life.

But it wouldn’t be a life if you failed your mission.

You knew that much – no one escaped from the higher-ups and no one got out unless they were killed, either during their mission or by defecting. Not even Noritoshi could protect you from that, but he gazed up at you so hopefully, so lovingly that you wanted to bask in this glow and illusion of happiness a little longer.

So you smiled, rubbing your nose against his that had you both giggling like lovesick teens. “You’re so cheesy it’s disgusting, Kamo. I really regret not killing you now.”

“You wound me,” he placed a hand over his chest before pinching his cheeks, “But I suppose it’s only fair – you quite kill me with your cuteness too.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

For now, while you could still have him the way you wanted him, while he was still safe, you allowed yourself to drown in pleasure. Limbs tangled with one another and names breathily spoken while he marked you as his own, his seed painting your womb that you eventually lost count of.

This was love – the illusion of it, at least.

You stared at Noritoshi as he slept soundly beside you, his hair splattered everywhere. He was too exhausted to notice you slowly slipping off the bed, wiping the mixture of both your cum away with a towel before tugging your clothes back on. Glancing one last time at his still sleeping form, you lifted up a tile just under his study, pulling out the heavy and deadly weapons you’d planted long ago just in case.

Your heart dropped in your chest when the door suddenly opened. No creaking sound indicated that it did, but the slight gush of wind entering the room made the hairs on your arm prickle up.

On instinct, you wrapped a hand around your special gun and aimed it at the person smirking down at you. His eyes travelled from Noritoshi safely tucked under the blankets to your defensive pose just before him, the safety of the gun flipped open. This time, your hands no longer shook, and your eyes were hard and determined as you matched the dark look on his face.

“Step away, kid. You don’t want things to get messy.”

“I won’t let you hurt him, Toji,” Toji was surprised when you suddenly dropped your gun on the bed, palms raised beside your head in surrender. “I, Y/N, member of the Dark Shadows organization therefore surrender my title and submits to the punishment I must receive. As a last wish from a lifelong loyal member of your organization, I humbly ask that you respect my wish to keep Noritoshi Kamo safe from your missions. Forever.”

You could never live a happy life with Noritoshi, but there was still a way you could keep him safe; one that came with the price of your death.

The Dark Shadows was a shady organization with nameless and faceless leaders, the members like you and Toji blindly following orders from a “messenger.” You were born into this organization with a random name given to you as an assassin title. You always hated it, but you also didn’t know what life without being an assassin was like, so you followed them until the end. It just never occurred to you that you would use your last wish this way, for everyone always had a dying wish that the organization had to follow.

Toji’s eyes darkened; clearly, he believed you were doing a mistake. But the more you thought of Noritoshi’s smile, his laughter, his future – it was all worth it.

“I, Fushiguro Toji, a witness of your death, hereby respect your last wish.”

The sound of desperate crying – the first time you’ve cried ever since you were born – stirred Noritoshi awake from his slumber, but before he could catch your falling body, a gunshot had already fired in the air.

507 notes · View notes

sparkle-hwa · 3 years ago

Text

at your service

summary: patiently waiting for your boyfriend to come home turns out to be quite the treat.

pairing: dom!hongjoong x sub!female reader

genre: smut

TW: none (but please let me know if I need to add any)

CW: dom/sub, name calling, slight degradation, unprotected sex

Word count: 2,366

A/N: aahhhh!! this is my first fanfiction that i wrote for ateez EVER and my first one I’m ever posting! i hope you all like it! please feel free to send any feedback :)

________________________________________________________________

You sat on the couch, headphones in, trying to concentrate on writing your term paper. The semester was almost over and you needed at least a B to keep your solid academic standing. Better grades now meant more scholarship opportunities for graduate school in the future and that’s what mattered most. Rewriting the same sentence over and over again didn’t seem so bad compared to endless loan payments. Pulling the blanket up higher on your chest you snuggled in and decided that thirty more minutes of writing would put you in a good place to finish and edit it tomorrow. Your entire week had been consumed by school and you were not about to let your Friday night get taken up by this. Hongjoong, your sweet, caring boyfriend would be home soon and you wanted a clear head for what you believed to be in store for you.

He had been sending you picture after picture on snapchat almost all of today. To the outsider viewer, it probably looked like he was taking simple selfies; after all, he had been at his internship all day. But the added captions were definitely for your eyes only. He detailed just what he wanted to do with you - to you - tonight and it was enough to make you squirm in your seat during class and turn the brightness all the way down on your phone. Recalling it now, you could feel the heat rise in your body and you subconsciously swallowed hard. Some say you can’t remember pain, but you definitely remembered how difficult it was to get yourself situated in your 8am lecture last week, the welts still red on your backside. Shaking your head and adjusting your earbuds, you got back to work.

—-

Hongjoong parked his car outside of the apartment complex and slumped in the seat once he cut the engine. It had been a long day. His internship had him working twice as hard, copying and filing, delivering reports, and filling coffee cups. He counted his blessings every morning though. He was chosen from hundreds of applications that flooded in from the university and this on his resume was sure to impress future employers. Sighing, he thought about what would have happened if you hadn’t convinced him to apply. You were so good for him.

With a smirk, he sat up, grabbed his laptop case, and opened the car door. He walked briskly to the front door and opened it slowly. Hongjoong first saw you sitting on the couch and then noticed the headphones placed securely in your ears. With a devious smile, he quietly set down his bag next to the end table, loosened his tie, and quietly padded across the foyer to the living room.

—

You were none the wiser to the fact that your boyfriend had just walked in the apartment. Seventeen was blasting loud in your headphones and in retrospect, you probably should have just played it from your laptop, lest someone who wanted to rob you had walked in instead. Bopping your head along to the beat, you felt really accomplished as you saved your final rough draft. Suddenly, you felt something coming down over your head. Before you had a moment to think, Hongjoong’s tie was tightening around your neck and you gasped at the sudden change of events. Leaning your head back, you saw your boyfriend standing over your with a look in his eyes that frightened you but also made you excited.

“Good evening babygirl,” he cooed at your lovingly.

“Good evening sir,” you replied, batting your eyelashes.

“Ooh someone remembered her manners. You must really want something from me.”

“Anything for you…” you trailed off as he stroked your cheek and you shut your eyes. As quickly as he was sweet, he smacked your cheek hard enough to make you gasp. Hongjoong tightened the restraint around your neck more.

“Get on your knees,” he growled at you, dropping the end of his tie and letting it drop down your back. Obliging, you dropped off the couch and sank down. You gazed down at your knees and heard Hongjoong walk around the end of the couch sit down.

“Mmm.. so pretty down there, sunk down just for me,” he purred, palming his cock through his work pants. You continued staring at your knees, feeling the heat pool at the bottom of your underwear. His praise was affirming to hear, even if you couldn’t respond.

“Hands and knees now,” he ordered. You put your palms on the hardwood floor and pushed your body up. The tie slipped down your side and grazed the floor. Hongjoong grabbed it and pulled at it slightly.

“Scoot closer.” You crawled closer as he pulled you by his tie and he pushed on your ass to make you move sideways.

“I’ve been dreaming of this ass all day. Work was so boring and I needed something to stimulate me,” he said, rubbing your ass over your PJs pants.

“I’m here for you, sir,” you dared to say. You were sure he wouldn’t care if you spoke without permission if it meant you were validating the fact that you were his and only his. Using the tie, he jerked your head so close your temple thumped against his knee.

“That’s correct. You are here for me. I’ll make sure you never forget that.” In one swift movement he pulled down your PJ pants and smacked one of your pale asscheeks. He pulled them down farther and you moved just a little so he could remove them completely along with your underwear. Once he rid you of your pants, you dropped back onto your feet and he slipped your sweatshirt off over your head. You obviously didn’t have a bra on since you had been home alone for the past 2 hours and you heard him murmur a curse quietly under his breath. It was cold on the hardwood, yet the more you thought about being completely naked in front of Hongjoong with only his tie around your neck the warmer you got.

“Let’s go slut,” he practically snapped at you and jerked the restraint tightly upward causing your head to jerk forward. Crawling on your hands and knees you followed him back to your bedroom where he told you to remain on all fours. He wasn’t noticing but you silently dared him to look over and make eye contact with you. You bit your lip and did your best to look as sexy as possible. At just the right moment, Hongjoong turned around and looked right at you. His gaze was penetrating, dominating, and you could feel the wetness of your heat spread slightly to your bare thighs.

“Come here baby,” he purred and you crawled slowly over to your lover, arching your back so that your ass stuck up higher and your tits stuck out just a bit more. When you reached him, you kneeled down at his feet and Hongjoong sat on the end of the bed.

“So you’re going to sit there like the good girl you are and you’re going to watch me jack off as I think of your tight wet pussy and then I’m going to pound you so hard you’ll have trouble walking in the morning. Sound like a plan?”

You squirmed on your feet, hoping to find friction somewhere to help relieve the wet aching you felt. “Yes sir, that sounds delightful,” you said, shooting him a glance that was somewhere between sexy and scathing. Hongjoong unzipped his pants and removed them with his undergarments. His cock sprung free. You quietly moaned as you saw his length unclothed. Swiftly he grabbed the end of the tie again and pulled you closer to him.

“Hmm I like this little leash I have on you,” he said with intense eye contact that made you melt. “Makes it easy for you to do what I want you to.” He winked and stuck his thumb in your mouth, pushing down your tongue. You welcomed the intrusion, happy to have some sort of physical touch to focus on. Wrapping his other hand around his cock, he started to stroke it. Hongjoong let out a gravely moan.

“Suck,”he ordered. You happily did as you were told, lifting up a bit so he didn’t have to lean down so much and sucked on his finger. He sped his pace up and pushed around in your mouth. You wanted desperately for him to replace it with his length. You moaned around his finger, hoping he would take pity on you.

“Aw does baby girl want more?” Hongjoong cooed at you. You nodded and he removed his finger. Hopeful, you gazed at him. Instead, he shoved you back down to your feet.

“I wonder what getting what you want is like?” He growled back. “Guess you’ll never know.” Winking he leaned back and continued to rub his dick, completely ignoring your pout. Closing his eyes, Hongjoong let his lips fall open. He heaved a heavy breath. Hongjoong seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself.

You however were not pleased. You were the slickest you had ever been and were fed up. Teasing you was one thing, but neglecting you for his own pleasure made you scrunch up your face. You watched your infuriatingly handsome boyfriend jack off and felt the displeasure rise. Your pussy ached. You slipped a hand down there to give some much needed pressure to your swollen clit. You decided to let out the loudest, sexiest moan you could muster to get his attention. Snapping up, Hongjoong made direct eye contact with you. His cock was still in his hand but he had stopped stroking and was watching you with a penetrating gaze. You continued to rub yourself and made direct eye contact right back at him. He scowled at you and you winked back at him knowing that that was either the best or the worst decisions you had ever made.

“Excuse me,” he growled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting what I want,” you countered. You brought your fingers to your mouth to suck your juices off. “Is this what you want?” You eyed him seductively.

“Damn straight,” he replied. “Get up here?” He said it like a question but you knew it was a thinly veiled order. He was playing it safe. Somehow that turned you on more knowing that you had almost won.

Hongjoong laid on his back and you situated yourself so that you were on all fours beside him. His weeping cock lay flat against his pubic hair. You took it in your hand. Using the precum as a lube, you sped up quickly knowing that he hadn’t been going fast enough earlier.

“Uuuuugh” came a soft moan. You leaned up and bit his lower lip, just enough to lengthen his moan and turn it gravely.

“I love your sweet noises,” you cooed softly. “But I think it’s about damn time I started making those.” Dropping his cock, you rolled to lay on your back. Spreading your legs felt so good as the rush of cold air caressed your wet cunt. Hongjoong rolled onto his side and immediately stuck two fingers into your entrance. No warning. No announcement. Nothing, as he shoved them as deep as he could manage. It was enough to make you yelp out loud and remind you that you were still in trouble for disobeying.

“Fuuuuck,” you moaned.

“Mmm still my little babygirl,” murmured Hongjoong. He started to pump in and out faster. You were left breathless and clawing at the fitted sheet on the bed.

“Is babygirl going to cum?” Inquired Hongjoong as he clearly had no intention of slowing down.

“Y-yes sir. D-do I have permission?” You answered. Desperately hoping he would let you, you arched your back, hoping his fingers would stretch you out more.

“I suppose you could,” he said. “It’ll have to be on my count though.”

“Yes sir,” you moaned out breathlessly.

“One…. two… three…” he began.

“Uuugh,” you began. “You never told me what number I could cum on, sir”

“Good,” was the only response he gave to you. “Now where was I?”

He frustratingly began counting at four again. you felt the pressure building up in your lower abdomen. Either way, you were going to cum. It was either going to be when you were supposed to or you would break the rules. Somehow a dick would end up inside of you and you weren’t mad about it. Choosing the number ten, you achingly waited for his voice to reach the final number.

“Ten…” and everything else faded away as your pussy clenched around his finger. Hongjoong latched onto your nipple and bit down fairly hard. The sensation added to your orgasm and you enjoyed every moment of riding it out. Fucked out, you shivered as he removed his fingers.

“Nasty slut,” Hongjoong said and he wiped his moistened fingers onto your breasts. “Time for you to get properly fucked.”

He centered himself over you. In true fashion, your boyfriend wasted no time bottoming out in your already fucked pussy. His swift movements caused you both to moan at the same time. Hongjoong locked lips with you and shoved his cock in and out of you.

“Lift your arms up,” he moaned. You obliged and he clasped your wrists above your head.

“You look so good under me,” he growled at you. “Stick your tongue out.” Once again you did as you were told and he removed his hand from your wrists just for a moment so you could suck on his fingers again.

“Fuck baby I’m gonna cum,” he murmered in your ear. With one final stroke he spilled inside of you. Your pussy clenched around him again as he pulled out and you sighed as you felt his wetness inside of you.

“Lemme go get something to clean you off babygirl,” Hongjoong said with a quick kiss. He hurried back with a damp washcloth and proceeded to clean you off. Once he discarded it, Hongjoong slid beside you on the bed and snuggled close.

“So…. how was your day?”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez hongjoong #ateez hongjoong fanfiction #hongjoong smut #ateez fanfiction #ateez hongjoong smut

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heartsofbeskar · 3 years ago

Text

pulsing star

one — decay

physicist!reader x din djarin

warnings: possible language

words: 3.3K

series masterlist | writing masterlist

a/n: so sorry this took me so damn long to finally publish! it has been burning an absolute hole in my mind for well over a month now, and im so happy i finally had the inspo to finish the first part! so many thanks to jess @pedros-mustache for inspiring me and letting me bounce questions off her❤️

The taste of metal and some foreign plastic filled your mouth as you chewed gently on the end of your pen.

Girl, you’ll give yourself metal poisoning that way.

You could hear your former mentor’s voice in your ear, despite the nearly empty cantina you sat in. The bar droid slowly worked its way through cleaning glassware from the night before, the rhythm of the light tinkling providing a steady background to your work.

Papers were spread out around you, notebooks thrown open haphazardly, some with half finished theorems or calculations, before you’d be interrupted by yet another thought you had to instantly write down, lest you forget it.

You hadn’t been on Nevarro long, and you swiped at the back of your neck, where sweat had gathered. Maker, you found yourself having to shower every day you were here, the combination of sweat and dust creating an uncomfortable film that settled on you by the end of each day.

It was better than the standard month you’d spent on Hoth, you supposed. And there was no denying the geophysical characteristics of Nevarro were fascinating, with active lava flows and geothermal anomalies. It made your stomach do flips thinking about monitoring the temperature gradients and flow patterns. You’d not seen anything comparable in the Mid or Inner Rims.

And, maybe, the truth was that you preferred the Outer Rim for more reasons than untapped research avenues. Maybe you enjoyed the way you could travel for miles and miles and not see another sentient being. Maybe you enjoyed the isolated towns that seemed to exist within their own version of a universe, separate from the one you knew and studied. Maybe it was how settled some of the people in the Outer Rim appeared to be, how at home this part of the galaxy was for them; a peace they exuded that you could never quite grasp.

You didn’t look up as there was a loud scrape of the stool against the concrete floor of the establishment immediately to your right. The thought occurred to you a moment later that your papers were probably strewn over the bartop there, however, so with a slight twinge of annoyance — the cantina was practically empty for Maker’s sake, why did someone sit right next to you? — you reached forward to gather your materials that had spilled over to that area.

With a start, you saw who had sitten down there. You recognized the armour instantly, the distinct lines of the chestplate, the mechanical structure mounted on the forearm, the characteristic visor inset into a chrome helmet. A Mandalorian. Your hands stilled where they were reaching over the multitude of papers, mouth falling open slightly.

Thoughts ran through your head like fathiers on a racetrack, pulling up a dozen paragraphs from galactic historical texts and war documents you had spent nights pouring over.

Culturally a clan-based society, composed of members from various species, some of whom are brought into clan groups as children. Clans are bound to a common culture through a ‘Creed’ they typically swear at the entrance to adulthood.

Many Mandalorians met a gruesome fate at the hands of the Galactic Empire during what is deemed as ‘The Great Purge.’ Many beskar reserves were stolen, as well.

It seemed surreal that a Mandalorian was sitting beside you, now, in this dusty Nevarro cantina. And you … were staring at him.

“Can I help you with something?” A voice emerged from behind the helmet, low and rough and modulated through an obvious vocoder. You weren’t sure what you had expected, but the sound sent a jolt through you, energy shooting from the top of your scalp to the very tips of your fingers, down your legs, to the soles of your feet.

The Mandalorian was waiting for a response.

“Oh, um … sorry!” You shook your head, continuing to move to gather your papers. “It’s just I’ve never seen a Mandalorian before. Not in person, I mean, of course I’ve seen lots of holo-images, the armour patterns between clans specifically is such an interesting study, and the history of course is just so rich. That’s real beskar, right?”

You were pointing towards the shoulder pauldron nearest you, which shone like the rest of the pieces of armour he wore, and was adorned with the side profile of a mudhorn. The familiar pleasant tingles of curiosity were firing inside your brain as you took him in, and you suppressed the urge to reach out and touch the material.

The Mandalorian tilted his head forward in a nod rather than speaking. You could feel how wide your eyes were as you took in all the details of him, but you really couldn’t help yourself.

“Do you know the melting point?” You shuffled the papers with little care onto whatever you’d just been working on, leaning in closer to the man beside you unconsciously. “I have read some super interesting studies put out by the Coruscant Engineering Society on the potential durability of it as a superconductor in ship cores; how it could really improve the lifetime of engines in general. Really cool stuff, though all theoretical work so far.”

“It’s beskar,” he said simply. “It doesn’t melt. Not that I’ve seen.”

“Right,” you nodded. You searched for a blank paper in the chaos, pulling the first one you found towards you. “Do you have even an estimate of the maximum temperature exposure you’ve seen it hold up under?”

He leaned back into the stool, arm relaxing somewhat as he seemed to consider it. “Probably … a few hundred standard degrees?”

Eyebrows raised, you scribbled some notes down, folding over the paper and tucking it into one of the notebooks piled in front of you. The Mandalorian’s helmet moved marginally, visor tilted towards your spread of work.

“I’ve got a couple of friends on Coruscant, and even just a lower limit of heat resistance should be super helpful for them,” you chatted excitedly. But the next second you froze, hands stilling again as you looked at the man with a concerned expression now. “Unless that’s … not okay? I can get rid of that if it’s—”

He cut off your rambling with a wave of his gloved hand, a huff from behind the helmet. “No, it’s … it’s fine. What … are you working on? It looks like a lot.”

You beamed at him, smiling wide and almost bouncing in your seat as you unearthed the latest pages you’d been working. “Well, Nevarro has a ton of interesting volcanic formations, there’s nothing like it in the galaxy, really. I’d love to do some mapping of the underground flows surrounding the city — I just need to get a speeder bike so I can get out there, which has been more difficult than I expected, frankly. And then there’s already been some studies of the radioactive formations around—”

Again, he cut you off. “You’re telling me you plan to go out into the lava flows on a speeder bike? Alone?”

—

That was how you ended up on the back of a speeder bike, arms tentatively wrapped around an armoured Mandalorian.

He was a strange macrocosm of contradiction; hard and unyielding beskar atop soft and warm flesh, and you tried to stop your hands from wandering along the edges of where metal met man, to study the contours of him as he fit together with his shell.

It was hot.

You were ultimately grateful he had extended such a generous offer to drive you out to the flats. The sun beat down in a harsh high noon glare, and the horizon watered ahead of you in the tumultuous air currents that liked to play tricks on the human eye. You were quite sure it would have been exceedingly easy for you to get lost on your own out here.

A bead of sweat blazed a steady trail down your back, journeying from the nape of your neck, bursting from the small gathering of hair that had escaped your ponytail, immersing itself into the thin fabric of your tunic to settle between your shoulder blades. It was joined there by others, and you fought the urge to reach a hand to pull the material away from your skin, but you knew if you let go of the man driving you surely would risk flying off the speeder all together, embarrassing yourself in front of him even further.

His hands — clad in leather gloves, their colours long ago faded — flexed on the handles.

Riding a speeder behind a Mandalorian was somehow not even the strangest part of your day. No, that particular distinction had to go to the fact that the Mandalorian … had a son.

He’d gestured for you to wait not long after you’d left the cantina, your supplies haphazardly stuffed into your burlap duffel bag. The man made a beeline for a group of children playing in the nearby school yard, and as surprised as you were to see none of them cower to his imposing presence, so much larger than any of them, you’d been even more surprised when he’d crouched down, far down, and picked up one of said children. He was so small you hadn’t even seen him at first, miniature green arms outstretched to the Mandalorian, who he was clearly familiar with and fond of. He nodded at some of the children, even patting one gently if not a little awkwardly on the head. You smiled, watching. As a clan culture, you knew Mandalorians were family oriented, children placed in the highest regard … but you also knew from reading that they were isolated now, Mandalorians scattered across the galaxy like dust to the wind.

It was nice to see at least one who had managed to compose a semblance of family again.

You were, as usual, bursting with questions. You tried your best to let them out at somewhat appropriate intervals as you made your way to the edge of town with him and the small being he held tenderly.

“Are you the same species?”

“Does he have heightened hearing sensitivity, or is the size of his ears mainly cosmetic?”

“Can he see outside the visible spectrum?”

“Or wait— is it the opposite? Does the size of his eyes necessitate a restricted spectrum, so as not to overstimulate his optic nerves?”

Finally, “He’s my foundling.” So, not the same species, you presumed. Not that you would hold it against him to be green under all the armour. That’d be more interesting than other humans you came across, at least.

It was clear that was all you were getting, so you bit your tongue, and vowed to yourself to try and be unintrusive. Try.

You peeked back at the small being. He was secured tightly into the rear basket of the speeder, long ears flapping comically in the increased wind. It didn’t seem to bother him, though, a smile exposing a row of tiny teeth inside his mouth. You had to giggle at the sight. As you turned your head forward again, you thought you saw the helmet of the man in front of you turn slightly to the side at the sound. But, maybe you just imagined it.

The wind slowed around you as he brought the speeder to crawl and then a stop at the coordinates you had given him. He didn’t speak as you, somewhat awkwardly, clambered off of the back of the vehicle, carefully avoiding the now babbling child attached to the side.

A large outcrop of rock rose from the ground, a sharp interruption to the barren landscape, and you squinted into the sun as you circled the formation, looking for the best access to the top.

You clambered up an uneven incline. Rocks and sand displaced under your hands and feet, but you maintained a balance as you climbed.

Until a particularly large rock, which had looked immovable, broke loose, sending your leg reeling down with it, and your entire body sailing backwards through the warm air, hands untethered as you’d searched for a hold. You tensed, eyes closing, bracing yourself for a collision with the sharp, hot rocks that made up the planet’s surface.

It never came.

Instead your back met suddenly with a solid, flat expanse, and it didn’t take even a moment for you to know it was the Mandalorian’s chest. Broad and unyielding, you heard a low chuckle from the modulated helm.

“You should be more careful, you know.”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, and the space between his breastplate and the rock seemed to be rapidly closing in. Your hands were slippery as you tried to find purchase again, and you struggled to find your grip a second time.

He shifted behind you, an arm coming up to frame yours. The leather glove covered your sweaty skin, guiding your hand to a stable gap between rocks. Your fingers wiggled easily into the space, allowing you to pull yourself forward from the man supporting your weight.

“Thanks,” you breathed out. Your own voice sounded lightyears away, floating past your ears from some distant galaxy with things unknown.

He didn’t answer you, unsurprisingly. As you pulled yourself further up the incline, re-established now in your footing, his hand slid smoothly to your waist, lightly holding there until you’d ascended past his position. You repressed a shiver. His son cooed distinctly.

The top offered an expansive and brilliant view of the surrounding area, jarred rocky edges and smooth fresh cooled magma contrasting one another for miles around. You could see the speeder down below, looking miniature now. You took a moment to collect fresh air into your lungs. It was dry, crackling on the journey down your windpipe.

With a grunt, your Mandalorian companion smoothly joined you. You half expected to see a sheen of sweat cling to his armour as if it were his own skin, but neither sweat nor heavy breath gave away his recent physical efforts. You looked away.

His eyes seemed to bore holes into your skin as you set up your equipment; an unsophisticated semblance of boxes and wires you balanced haphazardly on the uneven surfaces. How you could feel his gaze, a secret he held, meant to be hidden behind a visor of pitch black glass, you weren’t sure. It didn’t make much sense. You supposed it was a psychological effect, your own senses so unused to having any company.

But you could still feel it.

His son toddled over, short legs resulting in equally short strides and combined with his burlap tunic that met the ground, he seemed to positively glide towards you. You smiled at him, and he returned the expression. His head tilted adorable to the side as he surveyed your area, and you watched him idly from your peripheral vision as you continued, only giving a start when he reached for the small capsule you’d just unwrapped.

“No, no, no!” you chastised, lunging forward. His eyes grew, startled at your sudden moves, and he didn’t resist when you plucked the calibration source from his small claws, where it had hovered perilously close to his mouth. “That’s radioactive, we don’t want that in your mouth, okay?”

He just stared back at you, eyes wide, unblinking and clearly not registering any understanding. You glanced at his father, but he stood tall and impassive to his son’s action, helm scanning the landscape idly. Maybe… mischievousness was a characteristic of the green species.

With the Mandalorian clearly more at ease — did he ever get relaxed, really? Maybe you could ask — you dared to lift the small being from the dusty ground, and his face remained quizzical as you tucked him against your arm. Still, your companion didn’t stir in discontent. The baby giggled happily.

You spoke to him in a low tone as you finished your set up, describing in detail your sensor and dark tent as you maneuvered it to sit as evenly as possible.

“The magma flows below the surface contain heavy concentrations of an element called iridium, have you heard of that?” Another blank head tilt. “It decays into carbon and nitrogen products with a gamma ray of this signature energy, so by looking for events that peak with that energy exactly … I can try to trace the flows even when they’re all the way down in the ground!”

He cooed in delight, though you knew it was likely only in response to the excitement in your tone.

The afternoon swept by, as you adjusted and readjusted and adjusted again, slowly and methodically making your way across the surface of the rocks. The ground was warm under your hands, borderline hot, but it was only a trickle in the faucet of your mind as you worked.

The Mandalorian’s son had grown tired where he’d been nestled in the crook of your arm, ears drooping and eyelids shutting in a way that made your heart seize in your chest, electrical impulses of the organ abruptly stopping. You set him down in a nest of soft items, and you saw from the corner of your eye the Mandalorian lean down and adjust it a few times.

Sun dipping lower and lower in the sky, eventually you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder, fingers squeezing firmly but not tightly.

“We should head back,” he said, not unkindly. Your eyes skimmed the horizon, startled to see the sunset you had thought to be so many hours off. A drop of guilt formed in your stomach as you glanced back at his sleeping son.

“I’m so sorry!” you blurted, trying to keep your voice low as you could. The baby didn’t stir. “You should have told me sooner, I just— I get so focused on these things, you know?”

He nodded, but you weren’t sure he did know. You scrambled to once more pack away all of your equipment, and he leaned down to help you. His hands hovered, unsure, over the various components, and when he picked them up it was with a gentle touch uncharacteristic to his appearance, obviously afraid to break what he touched.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. You held up a semi transparent block that had spent most of the time hidden under the completely opaque black cloth you began to wrap it in. “This is the only delicate piece; it's a manufactured single crystal scintillator, it’s what responds to the radiation from the metals in the magma.”

His head tilted almost imperceptibly to the side. It was a curious mirror of his own, you thought to yourself.

“Why do you … do all this?” he asked. His voice was rough, rougher than it had been only moments ago, and your brows drew together as your mind reeled to understand the change.

“I just… I don’t know,” you said with a sigh. It was the honest answer. “I want to know, I suppose.”

And that want to know had spurred you on for as long as you could remember, from when your tiny infant feet first hit the hard ground. You were always searching, looking, longing …. for something. You weren’t sure if it was something you would ever find, and sometimes — when you were alone in the dark of a hotel or a borrowed bedroom — you worried you would never find it in all your life.

“Are there scientists on Mandalore?” you asked, voice quiet. You didn’t want to overstep.

His fingers flexed over the cord he was wrapping into a loop. You worried you’d made him angry but when he spoke, his tone was soft. “I don’t know. I’ve never been.”

He didn’t speak again as he helped you load the speeder for the return to town.

🪐🪐🪐

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assassins-and-hidden-blades · 4 years ago

Text

Miracles -- Part 3

07/04/2021: Here it is!! The one, the only, the... 6.1k words of purely self indulgent protective!Jacob (lowkey been doing it for everyone and their mother except for when with the reader and idk why bc i dig that shit too)

I really hope you guys enjoy this, because I loved writing it!! There's a chance I could sneak in a last chapter if people wanted that? Feedback would be greatly appreciated!! This is super long, so sit down and get comfy :)

Pry these commas from my cold, dead hands tho. Also, I HC Jacob to be predominantly left-handed, but that's just me aha.

Warnings: Bit of violence, swearing, corporal punishment, arson (without giving too much away)

Tagging: @marshmallow--3 // @missingfrye // @ct-5445 // @iceboundstar // @rahdaleigh // @pink-polarfox // @b3k1720 // @itseivwhore // @sofiewithat // @missbenzayb

Assassin's Creed Mobile Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption 2 Mobile Masterlist

Part 1 HERE, Part 2 HERE

The night was cold.

You retreated further under the blankets, turning to rest your head on your beloved’s chest. You wore an oversized shirt, and he wore a loose pair of breeches. His arm pulled you closer, fingers stroking your bicep. In turn, you traced the Rook painted on his chest. “Jacob?”

He turned to gaze down at you, lips inches from your forehead. “Yes, my love?”

“My family have written to me; they would like me to visit them in Warwick.”

“Your family lives quite far,” Jacob remarked, smiling adoringly at you. “Will you and Lily be alright travelling by yourselves?”

You sighed. “That’s the problem.” Sitting up, you gently grasped Jacob’s hand, playing with his fingers. “They don’t know that Lily exists, and I have no chance of telling them that I have a child without the status of ‘wife’.”

“I see…” Jacob watched you trace the lines on his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Propose, you idiot.

“Could you look after Lily while I’m away?”

“On my own?” His fingers tightened around yours.

“I trust you with her, Jacob. You’re the only one I can trust her with.”

He sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”

“Stop doubting yourself.” You kissed his temple. “Besides, she adores you; she’ll listen to you.”

“Alright then. It’s decided.”

��Thank you, my love. However can I make it up to you?”

Sensing the humour in your tone, Jacob winked. “I can think of a few things.”

You laughed to yourself as you blew out your candle, the darkness enveloping the room as you pulled yourself closer to Jacob, the security of his arms lulling you to sleep.

----------

Before you knew it, you were packing a carriage with your luggage, setting off for the journey ahead. Jacob was standing in the doorway of your house, Lily resting on his hip. “Mama, do you have to go?”

“Sweetheart, if I don’t, then horrible Aunt Susan will come marching all the way down here herself, and we don’t want that, do we?” Lily shook her head, giggling.

“She’s not the only one who’s going to miss you.” Jacob wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. Smiling, he dipped his head to lock his lips with yours.

“Yuck!”

The both of you pulled apart, chuckling.

“Well, I best be going. Don’t get into any trouble; I know what you both are like unsupervised.”

Sharing mischievous looks, they began to wave as you got into the carriage.

“Bye, Mama!”

“Safe travels, my love!”

You watched as they recede from view, the picture of your perfect family playing in your mind as hooves against cobblestone played in your ears.

As soon as the carriage turned the corner, Jacob turned to Lily. “What do you fancy doing?”

Lily giggled. “I have school!”

Jacob mockingly rolled his eyes. “That is the worst answer I’ve ever heard.”

“Are you saying I can skip?”

As much as he’d want to say yes, you would have punted him six ways from Sunday. “‘fraid not, love.” He took her inside. “But I can promise that afterwards, I’ll take you to get iced cream.” Lily cheered in victory before she hopped down, scurrying to collect her things for the day ahead.

----------

Jacob walked Lily to school that morning, keeping her on his left and away from the curb. He grasped her hand firmly, lest she get lost in the rushing crowd. When he approached the building, he saw various parents saying goodbye to their children, as well as some children arriving on their own.

He knelt down to her height, tidying her windswept appearance with a reassuring grin. “You have a good day, alright?”

Smiling widely, she nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Papa.”

Wait, what?

Jacob’s breath caught in his throat. Lost for words, he kissed her head and returned the hug tenfold. “I love you, angel.”

“Love you too!”

The bell rang moments after, causing Lily to pull away. “Don’t be late!” Waving, she ran to catch up with her friends and disappeared into the building. Standing up, Jacob cleared his throat and tugged on his waistcoat to compose himself, though he could barely stifle his grin. The warmth in his heart engulfed his chest. He walked past the rest of the parents as if he were walking on clouds, his happiness fixed for the day.

----------

“What’s got you in such a good mood today?” Evie asked her brother, watching incredulously as she found him tidying his train carriage.

“Oh, nothing.” Although his tone was dismissive, his face told a completely different story.

“Did you… have a good night?”

“Oh, no.” Chuckling, he sifted through the papers on his desk. “Y/N’s headed to Warwick.”

Puzzled, Evie tilted her head. “Free beer?”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘P’.

“Come on, then; what is it? You can’t expect me to keep guessing forever.”

Restraining himself from jumping for joy, he turned to his sister. “Lily called me ‘Papa’.”

Evie’s face lit up. “Oh, Jacob, that’s lovely! Does this mean you’ll…” She mimicked opening a ring box.

Blushing, he nodded, a toothy grin plastered on his face. “I’m excited, Evie. I… I need to sit down.”

He leaned back on the sofa, tossing his hat beside him. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. “Are you alright?” Evie took a chair to sit opposite him.

“I… I’ve never felt this much joy in my life.”

“Jacob Frye, you’re practically speechless.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“You have to buy the rings before Y/N comes back.”

“I will. Maybe Lily will want to come with me. Not yet, though; I don’t want to spring the news on her immediately.”

Evie began to talk about the type of engagement ring you would find the most appealing, but Jacob had all but zoned out. He was fidgeting with the iron band on his right index finger, engraved on the inside with the Assassin’s Insignia. Barely thinking, he removed it and switched hands, sliding it on his ring finger.

He was going to get married. You were going to be his wife.

“What if she doesn’t say ‘yes’?” A sudden anxiety clutched his heart as he looked up in worry.

Evie was stunned into silence. “What are you talking about?! Of course she’s going to say yes!”

“She has a child to think about; what if she doesn’t want to get married at all?”

“Jacob,” she sighed. “She knows you’d do anything for Lily. You’ve done it right from the beginning.” He shifted in his seat as a phantom pain clutched his side, remembering his tussle with Thomas Lynch. “She would be insane not to want someone like you as a husband, and as a father to her child.”

“When did you learn to talk like that?” Jacob smirked.

“When you’re the eldest, you learn a thing or two.”

“Bullshit.” He scoffed, but wordlessly thanked her for the reassurance.

“Knock knock.” Eyes fixed on the doorway as Henry peered around the corner. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need some papers from Jacob.”

“Right; which ones?” He stood up and closed the two meter gap to the pile of half sorted paperwork.

“The ones on James Brudenell.”

“Who?” He frowned.

“Lord Cardigan.”

“Oh, that prick…” He thumbed through the various files, quickly getting to the end with no sign of the desired intel. “I must’ve left it at the house. I’ll head off there now and bring them to you tomorrow.”

“Can you not come back straight away?”

“I need to get to the school; there won’t be enough time. I’m taking Lily out for that new iced cream.” Evie quirked her lips into a knowing smile. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she shrugged.

Shaking his head, Jacob grabbed his hat and opened the door, watching the train slow into the station. “See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget the--”

“The papers, yes, I’ll get them!” By then, he had already jumped onto the platform, disappearing into the crowd.

----------

On the stroll back to the house, Jacob checked his pocket watch, planning his time accordingly. He’ll find the papers, finish the paperwork that should’ve been completed two weeks ago, and head to the school.

The street seemed unusually quiet at this time in the afternoon, but Jacob only grew concerned when he noticed a lack of Rooks. Usually, there would be more and more scattered around the closer he grew to the house, but so far he could count them all on one hand. A scuffling from behind him pricked at his ears. He spun, brows furrowed, but the road was empty, save for a carriage calmly trotting past. He used it as a reassurance that he was probably acting paranoid, and continued where he was heading, albeit at a faster pace.

The secure feeling he felt upon approaching the house eased the weight on his chest. Pulling out his key, he wasted no time in disappearing inside. It was quiet without you, and there was the familiar longing he felt in his heart. Sighing, he mentally crossed off another minute until he could hold you in his arms again.

He moved upstairs and into his study. At the prospect of spending more time with him, you jumped at the chance to make a spare empty room a working office. He hung his jacket and hat on a coat rack, taking a seat at the desk. The natural light coming through the window landed perfectly on the wood, illuminating the workspace without the need for candles. Jacob searched his drawers, finding the file with relative ease. He grabbed a dip pen, opened an ink pot, and quickly began scrawling details down.

He was lost in thought at the memory of his encounter with Lord Cardigan when a crude knocking hit the door downstairs. Jacob froze, focusing on the noise outside. All business was kept around the train; he sternly told Evie and Henry not to give out the address to anyone. The only other people who would have had an idea where he was were the Rooks stationed around the street, but they were loyal -- were they not as trustworthy as he thought? Who was at the door?

Harsher thuds against the door made his heart leap. He moved slowly; inch by inch, he stood and crept towards the door, pulling out the cane from his coat as quietly as he could. His boots barely made a sound as he headed down the stairs, hand calmly turning the knob to open the door.

On the other side stood two gentlemen, waiting almost expectantly. “Can I help you?” Jacob asked, tone laced with suspicion.

The two exchanged looks before one started to speak. “Pardon me, sir, but would you be interested in purchasing some humbugs? We’re opening a new shop not too far from here. We thought we could go from door to door to begin our business endeavours.”

Eyes flitting between the two, unease began to set in. “No, thank you.”

“Understood. Have a nice day.” The other tipped his hat and turned to leave as Jacob slowly shut the door again.

“What…?” He’s had bankers act more persuasive than these men. They did not seem that interested in sales. His eyes scanned the room, as if that would give him answers to a most peculiar interaction. In a second, his heart jumped as they landed on the clock. If he didn’t leave now, he’d be late to pick up Lily. He grabbed his coat and hat from upstairs and burst out of the door, rushing in the direction of the school.

----------

He made the journey by the skin of his teeth, jogging almost the entire way. As soon as he approached, the bell rang, and children began to flood out of the doors. He stood by a tree and scanned the children as they continued to rush out. A few moments later, Lily emerged, nervously clutching her hands together as she scanned the adults around her. Jacob frowned and walked towards her, concern growing. He could see the upset growing as she at first couldn’t see him. “Lily!”

As soon as she heard her name, her gaze immediately landed on the source and took off running towards him. He knelt just in time for her to jump into his arms, face hiding in his neck. “Hey, are you--” He was cut off by the sound of sobs. “Okay, alright, it’s alright, angel.” Confused, he picked her up and went to sit on a bench overlooking the playground, shushing her gently.

Cradled in one arm, Jacob used his free arm to reach into his pocket, bringing out his flask. “Take a drink, sweetheart.” She gingerly took the container, taking a few gulps of the fresh water inside. “Now, tell me what happened.” He tried to speak softly, to not provoke more tears.

“I didn’t do it! They think I did, but I didn’t!”

“What didn’t you do?”

“Throw a rock.”

“Even if you did do that, it’s only a rock.”

“It hit the teacher!”

Jacob was silent for a minute. If they thought she pelted a rock at the teacher, there would have been harsh punishments…

“Please believe me; I promise I didn’t do it!”

Shocked, Jacob pulled her closer. “Of course I believe you! Why wouldn’t I?” His eyes landed on her fists, which have barely opened since he saw her, save for the flask. “Can I see your hands?”

She nodded, and Jacob shifted her against his shoulder so he could use both hands as he slowly uncurled her fingers. Her palms were a stark red, the clear markings of a cane riddled her skin almost completely; and they looked like the instrument hit hard. He quietly asked for the other one, inspecting them with the care one would give to a newborn, brows furrowing at the sight. Lily watched his eyes moving constantly across her hands. The thought of letting her father down ushered tears to the surface. Jacob’s eyes caught hers watering. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love. Do you know who really did it?”

Nodding slowly, she pointed to the playground to a boy who was laughing by a group of children who were playing with marbles. “Oliver.”

“Okay.” The two of them stayed there for a while as Lily continued to calm down.

Just as Lily began to smile at Jacob’s conversation, a shadow overcame the both of them. Jacob felt her recoiling into his side. He looked up to see a weathered looking man with a styled moustache and a stiff looking suit, a hand against the back of his head. “So, she’s yours.” The slight tone of disapproval channeled an urge of protectiveness inside him. He sat Lily behind him on the bench as he stood toe to toe with the teacher.

“Is there a problem?” Jacob’s eyes assessed the man from head to toe, noting the thin cane that he leaned on.

“You should be ashamed of your daughter’s behaviour.”

“Why? She did nothing wrong.”

“On the contrary…” Turning around, he removed the cloth on his head, revealing a jagged cut along the back of his head.

“It wasn’t me, sir! It really wasn’t!” Lily was begging for her teacher to believe her.

“Then who was it?”

Lily stood up on the bench still hiding behind Jacob’s shoulder but managing to equal his height. “Him.”

Her finger showed Oliver laughing at someone who had tripped over a skipping rope.

“Do you really think that she would do something like this?” Jacob raised an eyebrow.

Neither agreeing or disagreeing, he instead gestured with his cane. “I’m watching you, Y/L/N.” Jacob narrowed his eyes. “I would be mindful of your attitude towards my daughter.”

Grumbling, the teacher turned and walked away. “Oliver!”

“Th-Thank you.” A sniffling from behind him softed his face and melted his heart.

“Let’s go, angel. There’s some iced cream with our name on it.”` He hoisted Lily on his hip and headed in the direction of home, hoping that the anger would dissipate with each passing step.

----------

The house came into view shortly after Jacob left the sweet shop, two cardboard pots of the cold dessert in their hands. “This is delicious!” Lily was almost her normal self again over the journey home, relinquishing details of the day as they closed the short distance to the house. Placing Lily on the floor, he took out his key and pushed it into the lock, turning the knob. Without turning the key, the door opened. He must’ve forgotten to lock it when he left the house earlier. Brushing it off, he opened the door the rest of the way and stepped aside for Lily to enter first. He checked the rest of the street one more time for anything out of the ordinary before shutting and locking the door behind him, acting safe rather than sorry.

A slight smell filled his nose as he walked into the room. It was barely there, but he could smell something. Unfocusing his eyes, he watched as colours flooded his vision. Looking around, he couldn’t spot anything strange right away, but the smell was in the air and it set him on edge. Shaking his head, he rubbed his eyes. He had felt more emotion in one day than he had for a long time, and his body had worn him out. “Are you hungry, Lily?”

She sat at the kitchen table. “A little bit.”

“Anything you particularly fancy tonight?”

“Hmm… Sausages and potatoes!”

Jacob chuckled at her excitement. “Consider it done, my lady.”

----------

Dinner was over and done with by the time the sun set below the skyline. Jacob helped Lily get ready for bed before tucking her in. “When’s Mama coming home?” she asked, playing with Jacob’s hair.

“Hopefully in a few days; Warwick is surprisingly far, even by carriage.”

“Thank you. For believing me.”

Jacob smiled sombrely. “I will always believe you. That also reminds me…” He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a small pot of salve. “May I?” Lily offered her hands, and Jacob gently rubbed the ointment over her raw skin.

“It’s cold.”

“It’s supposed to get rid of the pain. How do they feel?”

She nodded. “Good.”

As he returned the salve to the table, he took a breath, steeling himself to give either the best news or the worst news.

“How would you feel… if I asked your mother--”

“To marry you?!” Her eyes widened, her smile reaching her ears. “Yes!”

She jumped out of the covers to hug Jacob tightly. He reciprocated, closing his eyes to savour the moment. “Please ask her,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Giggles filled the air as he pulled the covers over her again.

“Thank you, for letting me in.”

“You make Mama happy. That’s all I want.”

Jacob sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re wise beyond your years.” He leant down to kiss her forehead. “Goodnight, angel.” He stood up and blew out the candle.

“Goodnight, Papa.” Lily didn’t miss the way Jacob’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, shutting the door quietly.

He poked his head into his study, sighing when he saw his half-finished paperwork that needed to be handed to Greenie the next morning. Every fibre in his being resisted, but he knew his procrastination would catch up to him eventually. So he sat down, lit a candle, and tried to wrap everything up in as little time as possible.

About half an hour went by before Jacob finished the long overdue paperwork. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he went downstairs to the spare room he kept his bedclothes in. He fell backwards onto the bed. “Just five minutes…” he bartered with himself, resting his eyes.

----------

A scream made his blood run cold.

Bolting upright, Jacob immediately noticed plumes of smoke coming in from underneath the door, the burning smell inviting a cough from his lungs.

The house was on fire.

He lunged for the doorknob, the metal quickly searing his skin. His fingers clenched around the knob reflexively. “Ah, fuck!” He shook out his hand, watching as the flesh blistered in front of his eyes. Turning around, he dug around in the chest of drawers for extra clothes to wrap around the knob, turning and pulling swiftly before the heat travelled through the fabric. The door burst open. Jacob ducked as the flames whipped around the open space, newly fed by the released oxygen. Fresh smoke engulfed the room; Jacob inhaled a lungful as it blew towards him. He cleared his chest as he fanned the smoke away. Wrapping the clothes around his arm as a guard, he braced himself and ran upstairs, only one thing on his mind.

“Lily?!” The flames had almost completely engulfed the lower floor; he was surprised and relieved that he had managed to dodge any falling debris. “Lily!” He covered the metal with the clothes as he reached her door, slowly peeling the door away and slipping through as small a gap as he could, avoiding the mistake he made earlier. He closed the door behind him, the air luckily cleaner in her bedroom. “Lily, where are you?!”

He checked under the bed, and began to grow panicked when he couldn’t find her. He heard the scream, but nothing else. What if…

He swallowed, trying to ease the tight band in his chest.

Opening the wardrobe, he practically collapsed in relief when he saw Lily cowering in the corner. “Come to me, angel.” She dived into his arms, quivering in fear. “It’s alright, we’ll get out. I need you to be brave for me, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice was shaking.

He looked around for a quick exit, eyes landing on a window. He led Lily over and unlatched it, pushing it with his uninjured hand, albeit with difficulty. Leaning out, the air cleansed his lungs. He hoisted Lily onto the windowsill to give her fresher air, holding her to make sure she doesn’t fall out. She clutched onto him tightly. He noted how it opened into an alleyway. He heard the bells of police and fire engines around the front of the house.

“HEY! OVER HERE!” A man peered around the corner. “HEY! HELP!”

“We can’t fit the ladder through here! You have to go around the front!”

Jacob blinked. “Have you gone mad?!”

“There’s a small window around the front, looks like the landing. You better make a move before it’s no longer an option!”

“Can’t you just climb down?” Lily mumbled, mind in shock.

Jacob inspected his blistering palm; it felt as if he was still holding the doorknob. Slowly, he put pressure on his hand against the windowsill. The pain immediately bubbled up his arm. Biting his lip, he tried to pull himself onto the windowsill. With his weight, it was maybe possible, since he could drop higher than normal and roll once he hit the floor. With Lily, that wasn’t an option.

“I can’t risk it.”

“Well?!” The man was still there, watching him.

“Be ready!” Jacob pulled Lily into him. “I need you to breathe into this, alright, angel?” She nodded slowly. He gave her one of the shirts wrapped around his arm. “Close your eyes.”

“Should I count to ten?”

“It shouldn’t take any longer, love.”

Taking a second to compose himself, he wrapped his hand up and opened the door, squeezing through as little as he could before shutting the door again. He made a beeline for the end of the hall, dodging the flames as they grew nearer, licking the edge of the wooden floor. Reaching the window was the easy part. The hard part was opening the damn thing. It felt heavier than it usually did, and he strained his free hand to push it to the top. Outside, firemen were already level with the window, waiting for the two of them to emerge.

“One of you at a time.” Without hesitating, Jacob leaned out of the window, one arm reaching Lily out of the window, while the other stopped him from falling out himself.

Just as the firemen approached, Jacob heard a crack above him. “Take her. Take her now!” The urgency in his voice paid off, as he jumped out of the way of a falling support beam, blocking his way out. He hit the floor, covering his face as embers flew around him

Lily crying out caused his heart to flip, but he managed to catch a glimpse of her safely in the arms of the firemen. “No! PAPA!” His anxiety eased slightly, but only just. He scrambled to his feet just as the beam crumbled completely, blocking the window from view.

“Shit!” Coughing, Jacob looked around for another exit. His mind thought back to Lily’s bedroom; he could probably climb down carefully one-handed if he was quick enough. His study also seemed to be the furthest from the rest of the flames.

However, he was on borrowed time.

Downstairs was fully demolished; there was no way out there. Upstairs was closing in on him fast, the heat beginning to singe the hair on his arms and sear his skin. He ran for his study, narrowly avoiding falling debris. As he slammed the door shut, he was relieved at the sight of the room being unscathed. For now. He looked over the papers; they were definitely worth taking.

He emptied his desk of the files and stuffed them in a satchel that hid under his desk. He worked tenderly with his burned hand, careful not to aggravate the wound more than he already had. He coughed some more as he slid the satchel over his head, tightening the strap so it would lay fast against his back. As the cold leather touched his skin, he hissed. The flames must have licked him on the way in. He turned to check how much time he had left.

The fire had crept inside the doorframe, taunting him in a turbulent tango.

Jacob hurried for the window, looking for the latch. His fingers felt around the edge, but he couldn’t feel anything. He tried pushing, with no luck. Does this window not even open?!

Frantic, his non-dominant and uninjured hand went for the first thing that he could always rely on.

Two wide shots rang out, cracking the glass in a spider-web mosaic. He moved to shatter the glazing, but the world began to spin. Knees wobbling, he fell against his desk, hitting the floor. Coughing hurt, breathing hurt, thinking hurt.

But he was so close.

He blinked away the world that spun around him, shakily getting to his feet. He threw the force of his whole arm into the window, the gun providing the force to break the shards completely. Clearing the way for his hands, Jacob holstered the gun and slowly began the climb onto the roof.

He wasn’t dying. Not today.

Wincing every other second, he pulled himself half-heartedly onto the tiles. Jacob took a second to try and stabilise his vision, securing extra fabric around his hand. He manWeuvered his way around the burning holes, hoping instead to find a way down that doesn’t involve jumping or falling.

Unfortunately for him, that choice was made for him.

A tile came loose under his foot. He slipped, the edge of the roof coming almost too soon for him to react. His fingers grasped the gutter, which did nothing but snap under his weight. Upon hitting the ground, Jacob managed to roll, but instead of ending on his feet, he slumped across the floor. Groaning, he lay still as he recollected himself. To anyone else, he looked dead.

A pained cry set his heart pumping again, yet he didn’t realise at first that the cry was because of him, not for him. Light footsteps rushed over to him. “Pa? Papa?” He felt fingertips dance across his cheek. “Please wake up!”

He reached for the source of the voice. “I’m okay. Are you alright?” He managed to open his eyes to check over Lily’s state. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin was dirtied in soot, and one of her hands was bleeding. “Has anyone said they would help you with this?”

She shook her head, the worry not leaving her face. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be; it’s over now.” He began the arduous process of standing up; from his stomach to his hands to his knees to his feet. Offering his hand to her, Jacob led the two of them out into the street. When everyone gathered in the street saw them, they cheered. Rooks quickly came to assist Jacob and pick up Lily, but he waved them away. He limped his way to the ambulance wagon waiting in front of them. Lily was hoisted onto the end while Jacob leaned heavily against the side. Lily faced him for reassurance.

“Mr Frye, sir!” He tilted his head as little as he could to get a view of who was calling his name. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine; just a bit singed.” He tried to joke, but the pain in his face betrayed his laidback attitude. He grasped his ribs, as if it would ease the burn on the inside. “Where’s Evie?”

“As soon as we heard what happened, we sent for her. She should be here any minute now.”

“Lily goes with Evie. As soon as she shows up, take her to the train. She’ll be safe there.” Another hard cough shook his chest.

“With all due respect, are you sure you’re well?”

“I’m… I…” The floor was ripped from under him. Jacob’s knees buckled as his vision went black. After a few seconds, he came to. The Rooks had caught him on the way down. Disorientated, he blinked, trying to process what was going on around him.

He heard a familiar voice. “Where are they?” Rooks wrapped Jacob’s arms around their necks, pulling him to the edge of the wagon. He barely registered arms pulling him from behind to lie down. He noted how he was staring up at the stars.

“Evie!” A young, panicked yell drove Jacob to sit up, but hands pushed him back down against the wood.

“You don’t want to make things any worse, Mr Frye.”

His body jolted between consciousness and unconsciousness as Evie came into view. She also looked worried. “Jacob? I’ve got Lily; she’ll be safe. I’ll come to the hospital as soon as I can.” Lily was snuggled against Evie, a bandage wrapped around her hand.

“Let’s hope I don’t fall off.” It was weak and hoarse, but there was humour in his tone.

“You better not.”

“Take the bag.” He gestured to the leather satchel underneath him. Slowly, she undid the strap and pulled it out from under him, barely able to avoid causing a wince. She looked inside to find the papers in impressive condition. “It’s the paperwork Greenie asked for.”

Jacob’s smile was weak as the wagon began to drive away. The rocking of the cobblestones was rough, and although jarring, also brought comfort. He fell in company with the stars as his consciousness left him yet again.

----------

The next time he became lucid, he immediately noticed that he could breathe better; oxygen was easier to take in than before, and although not perfect, kept the lightheadedness away. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the light. The feeling of rough gauze was not unfamiliar to him, so he assessed the wounds on his back based on how rough it felt to lean on.

He brought his burned hand up to see that it had also been wrapped neatly. Although that was the majority of his wounds, his entire body ached. He leaned back into his pillow and closed his eyes, assessing the situation. Approaching footsteps made him roll his head to the side, and a doctor appeared with a clipboard. “How are you feeling, my boy?” He asked with a pencil in his mouth, flipping through the various pages.

“Like I’ve been run over by a carriage. Multiple times.”

“I’m not surprised; you inhaled half a factory.”

Jacob prepared himself for the question he knew he had to ask but would hate the answer to. “How long has it been?”

“Oh, a few days, give or take.”

“How many days are we giving or taking?”

Just then, a door opened on the far end of the ward, a few people rapidly approaching. As they turned the corner, Jacob’s heart sank a bit. You were hurrying towards him with the look of a mortified wife, but he dreaded what you thought would be more mortifying: your house burning down, putting your only daughter’s life in danger…

“Thank God!” You swerved around the bed and kissed him, one which conveyed a hundred different emotions, the most evident being relief. After the initial shock, Jacob’s fingers came to your jaw, lightly directing as he kissed you deeper.

He slowly pulled away, worried eyes scanning your face. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I haven’t the foggiest what happened--”

“You’re both safe; that’s all that matters.”

“But the house…”

“I’ve been prepared for disasters like this for a while. Everything I couldn’t stand to lose went in a fireproof box. There’s nothing gone that I can’t replace.”

“Papa!” Your eyes widened as you exchanged an impressed look with Jacob. Lily had crawled onto the bed and nestled her way into Jacob’s arms.

“Are you alright?” Without speaking, she nodded, deciding to play with his hand, fidgeting with his fingers and tracing the lines. Jacob looked to Evie, who followed her in.

Shepulled a concerned face, coming up to her and putting her hands over Lily’s ears. “She’s been crying herself to sleep, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night calling for one of you, sometimes both. She’ll heal, I’m sure, but for now I think time needs to pass. I investigated what could have happened that night; it wasn’t you.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were Templars; pisses me off though.” He turned to you. “If you hadn’t visited your family…”

“Don’t ponder the ‘if’s, Jacob. It leads to all sorts of grief.” You threaded your hands through his hair.

Evie nodded. “All I know is what happened, not necessarily who did it.”

“Go on.”

“The house was rigged to burn down. Someone must’ve broken in, set down some oil or gas, and set it alight. It all happened very quickly -- it’s a miracle you got out when you did.”

At the explanation, Jacob ran a hand down his face. “The fun never stops.” He shifted to stand up.

“What are you doing?” You put your hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to find whoever did this, and I have a feeling I know exactly where to start.”

“Not in this state you’re not.”

He stood up, much to your protests. “Honestly, Y/N, I’m…” His vision went black immediately, blood rushing to his head.

You quickly caught him. “‘Fine?” Sitting him down again, you brushed his hair out of his face. “Just take it easy.”

“I have errands to run.”

Evie whispered something to Lily, who gave the couple a mischievous grin. “We can do it!”

Jacob smiled, catching on. He leaned down to Lily’s ear. “Pick something Y/F/C,” he whispered. She nodded, grabbing Evie’s hand and running away.

The both of you laughed as Evie was dragged out of the ward. “What was that about?” You raised an eyebrow at the secrecy.

“It’s a surprise.”

Rolling your eyes, you joined him on the bed. “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

Jacob smiled to himself, the familiar excitement climbing. “I won’t.”

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed x f!reader #jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye x f!reader #jacob frye oneshot #x reader #assassin's creed oneshot #assassin's creed imagine

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infernalrevenge · 3 years ago

Text

A Self-Made Man (Karl Heisenberg Trans Headcanons)

(CW: mentions of gender dysphoria, misgendering, unsafe binding, and other unsafe transition practices.

Also, PSA: DO NOT try binding with bandages or duct tape. Use a proper binder that is correctly sized for you. Do not be like Karl here, who will eventually learn from his mistakes.

Anyway, enjoy!)

Figured himself out around the time he hit puberty, more specifically when he heard about what AFAB people had to go through during it.

Basically his thought process about it was "What the fuck? What the fuck?? I don't like this, I don't like where this is going, mission abort, MISSION ABORT--"

Had to deal not just with gender dysphoria but also the painful Cadou experiments Mother Miranda imposed on him. HOW FUN.

Even when he wasn't on the table being picked and prodded, when it was time to "go home" and recover, he could barely even look at himself without feeling like himself.

It was pretty much only by the time he was (physically) 15 that he had had enough. If he was going to suffer under the bird bitch, he better at least be seen the way he wanted to be.

He insisted on being referred to as a man, and wasn't afraid to correct anyone who either made a mistake or deliberately does so.

If they did it on purpose -- and he knows if they did -- then he starts yelling. Just fucking screaming. Very loudly.

If they keep trying to talk without using the right titles and pronouns, then he would yell over them. Repeatedly. Without fail.

He doesn't have full control of his magnetic powers yet so this was the best he could do. And it's not like anyone would dare to try anything physically with him, not with Miranda on "his side".

As soon as they get it right though, he's just quiet and nodding, though with a seething glare that said "Don't ever try me again, fucker."

It was very effective.

The huge baggy coat that he still frequently wears was sort of just his version of a "dysphoria hoodie". It did the job.

When he was younger, he got his hair cut short every chance he could. He thought it made him look more manly that way, and people would take him more seriously as a man with short hair.

Did a lot of dangerous things (unknowingly) while trying to medically transition on his own. It was mostly because he was too impatient to do actual research then.

Tried binding using the tough bandages the Benevientos kept around their house because he wanted his chest to be AS FLAT AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.

Moreau and Donna had to talk him out of it when they found out, only after he kept passing out during every family meeting since he started.

Donna instead gave him a proper binder when she did her own research on trans essentials. Karl thinks it doesn't get him as flat as the bandages did but at least he could breathe now.

He still wore it for days at a time though, which was also very terrible. He was incredibly lucky that his healing factor helped him not get fucked up in the long run.

Obtained testosterone from the Duke, who for some reason didn't question it, but without proper prescriptions so he just started injecting willy-nilly all because he did some cursory research about how it can masculinize bodies.

Once again had to be talked out of by the Duke and Alcina (back when she still cared about his well-being) when the former found out about what he was doing with it.

Was forced to see a doctor close to the village lest he lose his supply of boy goo.

Isn't afraid of injecting himself when necessary. One time he tried using his powers to do it with no hands. He almost missed and didn't do it again after that.

Has a few tattoos that inconspicuously also served as marks for his injection sites.

Definitely tried performing top surgery on himself. Alcina had to wrestle the scalpel out of his hands.

Like he was READY, he had an anatomy book on one hand, he had already marked on himself what and where to cut. He looked at a mirror and thought "okay titty go bye bye"

But alas, Alcina had to ruin everything. (She didn't ruin anything, Karl would've probably given himself an infection if he tried slicing himself open.)

In a way though, he found out that his "siblings" cared about him and how he approached his transition. It was kind of sweet.

Mother Miranda cares so little about Karl that him transitioning was no big deal at all. As long as she could still use him.

(He thought it was kinda funny but also sad that she had no regard for him whatsoever that she ended up indirectly supporting him instead. It was a weird way to look at it.)

When he finally did get surgery (safely and legally), his mutation helped him heal ridiculously fast. What would've been a few weeks of recovery and months of scar healing instead lasted just under a month.

Which was great for him because he wanted to get back on his feet as soon as possible. When he was up and running just two days after surgery and could remove the drains and post-op binder, the doctor was too bewildered to even speak.

Whenever he was alone in his factory, you bet your sweet ass he's shirtless 99% of the time. Dude didn't threaten a surgeon pay for surgery not to show off his nips.

Like most things in his life, his name was actually something he never thought of during his transition.

He didn't have that big of a problem with his deadname surprisingly, and he just kind of relied on everyone referring to him by his family name. Even Miranda only ever called him Heisenberg.

Though the thought of distancing his old self from his new self was appealing. Getting people to forget who he was before and being known as someone else, as who he was now -- yeah, that sounded good. So he decided on...

Karl.

Short, simple, and a name that pretty much no one could fuck up saying. It was perfect.

He rarely ever heard it when he was called, but finding it scrawled on Miranda's notes while he was snooping around one time almost... made him smile.

(Did she care? Or did she also just think it was easier to write than his deadname? Meh, oh well. Best not to dwell on it too much.)

Doesn't care for getting bottom surgery, but does want to get a hysterectomy. The potential for periods is always going to be a bitch.

Started growing out his hair when his beard was filling out. He thinks long hair is quite high maintenance though and he doesn't want it to get in the way of his work so it never goes past his shoulders.

Loves talking just because he loves how his voice sounds.

Proud of who he is and his journey to get where he is today. He only learned the term "transgender" recently, and once he did, he thought "Hey that's me!"

If anyone tries to be even the slightest bit disrespectful to him and his gender identity...

...they're getting thrown down the cellar with Sturm.

"It was your choice to be an ass, it was my choice to see you sliced to bits. Have fun!"

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re8 #karl heisenberg #lord heisenberg #trans karl heisenberg #i may or may not be projecting onto this funky metal man #thought he sounded like an elvis impersonator at first #he still kinda does #but he's grown on me in a way i didnt expect #trans headcanons #karl heisenberg headcanons #ftm karl heisenberg #ftm headcanons #cw gender dysphoria #cw misgendering

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