#x. she says it's all a game; she trembles like a flower but in her there's a power ( cheng yu )

[d0llcuries]

I know it might be a little weird, but could you make a headcanon of what it would be like to have Tsu'tey as a father being a girl (like daddy's little princess, he's heart is softened by his daughter and his partner) and Trudy as a mother (she being a scientist and having an avatar like Grace instead of a military woman and fell in love with Tsu'tey like Jake for Neytiri) please? I don't know why but I think they would be such an amazing couple with a super cute dynamic and even better parents, Trudy is too good to be just a military woman.

Thanks so much and plis never stop writing, you are too talented for this 🥰💕

NOT ALOT, JUST FOREVER

pairing(s): tsuʼtey x fem!daughter! reader + trudy x fem!daughter! reader

summary: being tsu’tey and trudy’s daughter means living between two completely different worlds, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

author's note: beyond thrilled for this request!! it's not weird at all i think it's super creative and overall a really lovely request! i only hope i did the whole “trudy as a scientist and not an aviator” concept justice ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ).

TSU’TEY IS A WARRIOR. a warrior of few words and fewer indulgences. yet somehow, your existence has shifted the soil beneath his feet. he doesn't understand it—the way a creature so small can root him in ways no battlefield ever did, how his spirit trembles more at the sight of your scraped knee than it ever did facing his fiercest enemies. the jungle's dangers are tangible, something he can see and fight. but this? the vulnerability that sneaks up on him every time you reach for his hand? that is an enemy he never learned to face.

HE NEVER SAYS IT ALOUD, but you are his soft spot, his ache in the quiet moments. he lingers at the edge of your games, arms crossed and posture deceptively indifferent. only his fingers betray him, twitching whenever you teeter, always ready to reach out. he remembers the first time he held you—skin still flushed with warmth from your mother’s womb—and thought, how could something so small hold such power over him?

TRUDY NOTICES IT TOO. she watches, amused, as he paces along the clearing’s edge while you struggle with a flower crown, petals and stems slipping through your fingers. he catches her smirk and glares, but the edge dulls the moment you call, “daddy, help me!” his pride dissolves as he kneels, calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he threads the flowers, each petal treated like something precious, as if winning this small battle for you means everything.

HE’S NEVER LEARNED HOW TO SAY NO TO YOU. no one really believes it. tsu’tey, head warrior, with a daughter who can wrap him around her finger. it's almost comical. warriors have seen you perched on his shoulders, his hands steadying your ankles with fierce attention, as if the entire jungle’s weight depends on your safety. when the hunters tease him, it's always in whispers, for none would be foolish enough to say it to his face.

TRUDY ENCOURAGES THE MESS. she lets you dig through the dirt, muddying your fingers as you paint the bark of a tree. she’ll ruffle your hair with dusty hands, or press her nose against yours and whisper stories about the sky people, but never in a way that makes you afraid of them. she’ll hold some odd gadget in her lap, her fingers nimble and focused, but she always makes room for you, explaining her tinkering in a strange blend of science and dreams.

TSU’TEY DOESN’T UNDERSTAND IT, this fixation you and trudy have with the stars, tracing shapes and murmuring about worlds and distances that stretch too far to see. it feels impractical, frivolous, yet he cannot tear his gaze from your face, lit up by wonder. he doesn’t understand the science, no, but he understands that quiet, wide-eyed look of awe you wear when you turn toward the night sky.

SOMETIMES YOU CATCH THEM BEING WEIRD, your parents, in moments they don’t think you’re watching. trudy sidles up to tsu’tey, wrapping herself around him like ivy on a tree, grounding him in a way nothing else does. you, hidden behind a tree, watch the way his usual stoic lines soften around her, watch the way she coaxes out a gentleness he barely understands. he’s the rock, unyielding, and she’s the wind, wearing him down in soft waves. it’s strange, but even at your age, you know it’s love.

YOUR MOTHER’S LAUGH IS LOUD, STARTLING. it breaks through the quiet of the forest, raw and unchecked, and when tsu’tey looks at her, it’s with a mix of exasperation and awe, a slow smile tugging at his lips, as if he’s still in disbelief that she is his.

TSU’TEY TRIES TO TEACH YOU TO HUNT, but you’re far too much like her, curiosity spinning you in every direction but the target. you tug on his arm, asking why the plants glow, why the ikran call out at dawn, and though he sighs, there’s patience in his hands as he steadies your bow. his answers are clipped, bare—��because eywa made them that way”—and you frown, dissatisfied. HE’S A WARRIOR, NOT A POET, but he tries for you, tries to see the world through the lens of wonder you wear.

YOU’VE NEVER BEEN AFRAID OF HIM, not like others are. to them, he’s a force, quiet and commanding, silencing crowds with a single look. but to you, he’s dad. the one who lifts you to pick the highest fruit, who lets you clamber onto his shoulders despite the fact that you’re nearly too big now, who calls you his “little warrior,” though anyone can see you’re a reflection of your mother.

YOU MAKE HIM LAUGH. it’s a quiet sound, almost lost between the trees, a reserved chuckle he saves just for you. it’s there in those unguarded moments, like when you drift off mid-story, cheek pressed to his chest, breathing softly in a rhythm that seems to ground him.

WHEN THE DAY ENDS, your family is wrapped in twilight colors. tsu’tey holds you close, his arms anchoring you as you drift between sleep and wakefulness. trudy hums an off-key melody from a time long past, and beneath the canopy, the sounds of pandora settle around you, your father’s heartbeat a steady drum grounding you in his embrace.

you’ve inherited her stubbornness, MUCH TO TSU’TEY’S DISMAY. once your mind is set, little can change it, and trudy often encourages you with a grin, while tsu’tey tries to hold firm, though his resolve quickly falters under your gaze. eventually, he’ll sigh, muttering that you’re “just like your mother.”

WHEN YOU’RE SICK, tsu’tey never leaves your side, discomfort tight in his chest, unused to the helplessness it brings. trudy works calmly, hands sure as she mixes medicine from plants she’s studied, but tsu’tey watches with a taut, silent worry. only when you reach out, your small hand grasping his, does he finally relax, grounding himself in the strength of your presence.

TSU’TEY DOES NOT TRUST BOYS, least of all the sully brothers. when they come around, he watches them like a hawk, shoulders tense, eyes narrowing every time they get too close to you. even when they're just playing, tossing a ball or climbing trees, tsu’tey stands at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, every muscle on alert. neteyam is polite, respectful, but it’s lo’ak who makes tsu’tey’s jaw tighten—the boy is too reckless, too bold. he doesn’t care that they’re still young; boys grow into men, and tsu’tey has seen too much of the world to be naïve. but when you laugh, loud and carefree, chasing after them through the trees, he can’t quite bring himself to pull you away. still, his eyes never leave you, the protective weight of his gaze making sure they understand—they may play, but they’ll never cross a line.

TRUDY, OF COURSE, FINDS IT AMUSING. she’ll shake her head and laugh when she catches tsu’tey scowling from his post. “they’re just kids,” she says, tousling your hair as you sprint by, face flushed and beaming. trudy’s always been the more lenient one, the one who believes in letting you figure things out for yourself. when you ask if you can go with the sullys on one of their adventures, she’s quick to agree, despite tsu’tey’s gruff protests. “they’re good boys,” she tells him, nudging his side. but even as she says it, trudy watches you with that same quiet intensity tsu’tey has—her kind of protectiveness isn’t loud, but it’s always there, a constant force just beneath the surface.

IN THE END, YOU’VE CHANGED THEM BOTH, reshaping their edges, carving space for softness amidst the warrior’s strength and the explorer’s curiosity. in you, they find balance. and as the night settles, they hold you close, a quiet promise between them that, whatever the world brings, this—their family—is worth everything.

[geekedoutbunny]

Sun Wukong x Fem! Mortal Reader - Selfish

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Sun Wukong x Fem! Reader - Selfish

Paring: Sun Wukong x Fem! Mortal Reader

Rating: Rated E

Warning: Fluff, complicated feelings, Slight Angst, humor

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You were resting in your room, scrolling through your phone in your own world. You could hear the sound of your family talking and laughing in the front. You sighed as you lost yourself in the content before you on your phone screen.

You live a double life, to your family you're a nobody, you're a nerd, and you like games, anime, quirky music, cosplays, and fanfiction. However, they're unaware you're friends with the chaotic group.

The Monkie Kid: MK

The Horse Dragon Girl: Mei

The Noodle Master: Pigsy

The Mythology Pro and allegedly Professional Food Critic: Tang

The Blue Friendly Giant: Sandy and his sweet little companion Mo

The Fire Baby: Redson

The Shadow Monkey: Macaque

The Lotus Prince: Nezha

and The Monkey King himself: Sun Wukong

You were a strange group, but it was worth it, they were the best things that could've ever come into your boring life. You first discovered them through Mei's live streams that she would stream at the most random of times, but it was always funny to watch them goof around and sometimes it was eye-catching when a random monster would appear.

You met them by chance one day when your brother ordered noodles from Pigsy's shop, you were unaware of where he got his noodles from but you couldn't care less, you answered the door with a bored expression ready to make an exchange of money for food when your whole world was turned upside down.

You were overwhelmed with excitement when you saw it was MK himself, to say you were their biggest fan was an understatement. You fangirled, and you ranted your love to him and his friends, and he took in kind as he puffed up his chest in pride. You were able to get his number and that was a good day, then it became even better a few weeks later when he had to deliver another thing of noodles, this time he had Mei with him and she liked you instantly.

She and MK stayed at your home for an hour before she invited you to come with them to the arcade and after that, you were friends with them. Being friends with them started off normal, with sleepovers, hanging out, going to the movies or the mall, hanging out at Pigsy's Noodle shop... it was normal until you ended up going on one of their adventures due to chaos breaking out unexpectedly with you there.

Mei took this as the perfect opportunity to bring you with them on an adventure so that she could show off her and MK's powers. MK was hesitant, but it didn't take much convincing when Mei mentioned it. "You can show off your Monkey King powers!!" And he was sold instantly. You were terrified yet excited to be on the scene of the battle. The trembling of the ground, the bright glows of powers, the giant dragon, the Monkey Mech, it was all so addictive.

After that, you were always on their adventures with them, rooting them on from the side while also helping them plan out their battles. It's been like that for a few months now, and you've grown to love it. One day, MK decided to introduce you to the Monkie King, you knew of the legend of Monkie King, everyone in China did, it was a simple children's story that all children knew.

Before you met your new friends, you never believed in them, but seeing their powers in the flesh, you weren't so confident in your own skepticism anymore. So off you went, with MK, on his unstable and very quick pole. You clung onto his back for dear life as you hid your face from the winds that whipped past you both.

You and MK finally broke through the thick clouds, and you stared on in awe as you saw Flower Fruit Mountain surrounded by beautiful clouds. "Wow." You said breathlessly, MK chuckled. "YEAH!! IT'S PRETTY AMAZING, YEA!?" He shouted over the winds. You nodded silently as you stared at the view. It wasn't much longer after that when you and MK finally landed on the cliff of the mountain.

You looked around in wonderment, taking everything in amazement. You stared out over the vast lands that lay before Flower Fruit Mountain, and a small smile grew on your face. You jumped in shock when a little monkey landed on your shoulder. You stared at the little monkey in shock for a while before you smiled kindly at it. "Hey there, little guy, where you come from?" You asked sweetly to the monkey as you gently rubbed under its chin.

As you did, loads burst from the trees and higher rocks, you looked around in shock as they all surrounded you, speaking among themselves as they sat around or climbed over you. MK chuckled. "Oh, man!! Looks like they like ya, which is an extremely good thing." He commented. You looked over at him questionably as you held a monkey by its underarms.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" You questioned. He was about to answer, but another voice beat him to it. "BECAUSE THEN THAT MEANS I'LL LIKE YOU TOO!! HANDS DOWN GUARANTEED!!" His voice echoed out. You looked around rapidly as you looked for the owner, but you couldn't find him, so you looked to MK for guidance, but he did nothing as he shrugged and smirked at you in amusement.

You turned back around to ask the little monkey in your hands, but you were met with a face instead. "Hi." He simply said with a relaxed smirk. You gasped dramatically as you stepped back doing karate chops and gestures before you took a ridiculous stance in shocked defense. MK, Monkey King, and all the little monkeys stared at you blankly. Your cheeks slowly warmed in embarrassment before you quickly straightened yourself up. "Umm, ahem... Hi." You awkwardly waved at him. He arched a brow at you as he looked you up and down before he shot MK a smirk. "I like her." He said as he jabbed his thumb at you.

"AWW YEAH!! I KNEW YOU WOULD!!" MK cheered in success as he fist pumped in triumph. You nervously smiled happy to have been accepted even after your embarrassing first impression. Monkey King smirked at his student before he looked over at you catching your attention. You straightened up and he chuckled at you before he walked ahead his hand waving for you to follow him.

"Come on, let me show ya around." He said, you nodded your head before you followed after him. MK continued to rant about how he must be Monkey King's psychic. Monkey King Shook his head in amusement as he comically grabbed MK by the back of his shirt with great ease.

He carried him on, while MK continued to celebrate, you chuckled at their antics as you followed closely behind them. He stopped in front of the waterfall, you watched curiously as he held up the ranting MK to the waterfall. You stared with an arched brow as you tilted your head. He looked over his shoulder at you with a proud smirk. "Give It time and watch the magic happen." He said You nodded slowly as you watched MK rant for another 30 seconds before he suddenly spread his arms wide apart and the waterfall parted like a giant beautiful curtain.

"Woah." You whispered in amazement. He looked back at you with a smug smirk. "I know, cool right?" He asked smugly and you couldn't help but just nod your head. He walked through the parted waterfall, and you followed after him, the little monkeys all followed as well, as they ran ahead of the three of you. "So, what's the story between you two?" Monkey King asked as he walked through the cave he calls 'home', MK still in his hand as he enjoyed the ride, his legs outstretched before him as he rested his hands on his knees.

"Me and MK met through my brother by chance." You explained as you looked around the place. He nodded his head idle as he listened to you speak. MK looked up at Monkey King with wide eyes as he nodded. "Mhm, her bro wanted some noodles so I delivered it and that's how we met." He said with a little smile as he pointed his thumb at himself proudly. Monkey King smiled down at him. "Oh yeah? Great job, bud, you found a keeper!!" He said cheerfully as he rubbed his head with his other hand.

You smiled at them. 'It's like a dad with his kid, cute.' You thought.

Your first meeting with Sun Wukong was very impressionable, he was funny, chill, relatable, and very family-oriented with his monkeys and MK. It was a pleasure to see, and you wanted to come by and visit more often.

Sadly, going to Flower Fruit Mountain was a rare occasion for you, it was usually only when the world was in parel or when you were all having a celebration party after defeating a villain. It was usually during those parties that you got to hang with Wukong.

You'd laugh and play, joke, and just enjoy each other's presence. Eventually, it went from that to him coming to visit you at your family home, but he always managed to disguise himself as some sort of animal, but you told him that a cat was more favorable.

This way, it wouldn't seem weird to your family if they saw you out petting a cat, he'd usually have to sneak in at night when everyone was too deep onto their own worlds to give a damn. Some nights he'd kidnap you and would just fly you over the city, take you to some cheap restaurant, or just go to Flower Fruit Mountain.

These slowly became yours and his guilty pleasure, going out on night adventures that could last till three in the morning. It was like having a best friend that your parents considered a bad influence. MK and Mei, were your best friends, but Wukong was special.

He was your friend who was over the best friends. It was like that for a while, a few years, actually... but eventually, those feelings began to blossom into something else, something deeper and scary. You didn't want to create distance between you two over some romantic feelings, so you tried to hide them, be normal... but it was almost like he knew.

He'd do things that would make your heart flutter, or he would say things that would make your breath hitched. It was a losing battle, and you were feeling cornered, so you tried to make distance between you two. Making up false issues that would postpone a hangout, you would fake being slightly unwell to make him leave you to 'heal' for a few days... you didn't want to, but it was all you could do.

But Wukong has learned a thing or two in his age, he knew what you were doing, what you were feeling, how you were taking it, he knew better than anyone else. But he'll give you your space, give you time to realize that your feelings weren't a phase and that they were real.

He wanted you to embrace your feelings, he'll help in doing so. He'll send you flowers, cake, chocolate, jewelry, makeup, that new game you wanted, clothes, anime merchandise, anything and everything you wanted, and he'll be sure to write his initials extra large on the little tag so you'll know who it was from.

You were a wreck, he was still so close yet so far, making distance only made it worse, the gifts he'd send would make you want to be close to him... He must've felt the same way... So, with that thought, you made up your mind, you packed a couple of bags, all of your personal belongings boxed up and ready to go.

Your excuse to your family? "I'm going to donate some of this stuff and get new things, I'm ready for a new look, is all." You'd say. it took you a few days, but eventually, your entire room was packed. You had to be smart with it, leaving things out that you would use every day until the final night you'd pack it all.

You wrote a note to your family, telling them that you're going to go away with the love of your life and that they'll see you again in the far future, you'll never forget them and you'll even send them gifts and letters once a month.

Once that was done, you opened your window wide, and you waited... it wasn't a long wait, not at all, he was there within minutes. Perched on his cloud, his goody smile you love so much on his face. He reached up and grabbed a few blade furs, he blew and created 5 clones. They made quick work of gathering your packed belongings. They all jumped out the window with a box or two in their hands.

You watched them with wonderment as they worked like a moving crew, one even grabbed your bed, how that was gonna work out you didn't want to know, but he did make it shrink, so that's cool.

Once they were all gone, you couldn't help but look around your now empty room, you were going to miss this place, your family, everything... You never thought that you would be leaving your family like this one day. You sniffled as tears unexpectedly gathered in your eyes as you hugged your arms around yourself, trying to feel comfort. You flinched in shock when a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind.

You looked back, and you saw Wukong, a sweet little smile on his face as he looked at you. You smiled before you looked around your room one last time. He gently guided you to the window, he jumped out first and onto the cloud, before he offered you his hand. You grabbed his hand as you placed your foot on the window seal, but you didn't have to put too much effort into it as he hoisted you up with ease.

Once on, you fished around in your pocket and you pulled out the folded-up letter, you held it in your hand for a bit, almost like you were debating on it, but with a brief glance at your empty room, you nodded to yourself. You leaned forward and placed the letter on the window seal. You stared at it sadly, but you were happy. With one last look around the room, you slid the window close.

You leaned against the glass for a moment before you pulled away, you released a sigh, a hand on your shoulder made you perk up and you looked over at him. A small yet understanding smile was on his face. You smiled back, you stood up and you wrapped your arms around his neck while he wrapped his arm around your waist, and just like that, you were gone.

The wind blew past you rapidly as your home quickly disappeared in the distance behind you, the moon that sits high in the sky made you smile as you leaned against his shoulder. You were going to miss your family, but for once, you were going to be selfish.

[criolla-star]

Overwhelmed(Vinny x Garmadon)Part 63

(I suggest you check out parts 1-62 if you haven’t already, also my ao3 and wattpad for the chapters more organised)

(With Vinny and the others)

They all walked through the forest, Vinny avoiding eye contact with everyone. The guilt he felt knowing he was the reason they were all was overbearing, to him he deserved whatever happened to his arm.

Kai seemed to notice the cameraman who was trapped in thought and walked next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “You look blue buddy, what’s on your mind?” He questioned.

“Of course he’s upset Kai, his arm’s probably broken” Jay spoke, as he rolled his eyes.

“Shut up Jay” The fire ninja replied bluntly. It was a normal response to Jay, he would randomly tell Jay to shut up even when he wasn’t talking.

“Enough you two” Nya sighed as she watched her lover and brother squabble like toddlers.

“Alright alright…back to the questions, is anything on your mind?” Kai as Vinny who was looking away, avoiding eye contact.

“I…not really…just worried about the others…” Vinny spoke timidly as he looked at the ground, it wasn’t really a lie, he was concerned for the others, but he was mad at himself for being an idiot.

“They’re strong, if we managed to be safe this long, they’ll be perfectly fine” Lloyd spoke, “They have most of the brains of our group, other than Nya” he added, causing the water ninja to smile at the compliment.

“We can be smart” Cole spoke, Jay and Kai nodded in agreement.

“Sure you can” Nya spoke sarcastically as she rolled his eyes, causing Vinny to chuckle softly.

“When we get back we’re playing video games…” Jay spoke.

“Definitely” Cole and Kai spoke in unison.

“I still need to reorganise my side of the room” Nya groaned, causing Jay to snicker.

“Should’ve got it done when I did” The lightning ninja teased, receiving a glare from Nya.

“I swear whoever that guy from yesterday was in already a p-“ Kai was cut off as a spear flew by his face, narrowly missing him.

“What the…?” Vinny muttered as he and the others turned around to the spear which was lodged in a tree. Before they could say anything, there was two bangs on the ground that sounded like metal, and the spear exploded.

The cameraman stumbled back and fell onto the ground, his dagger falling out of his pocket, down next to him. The others managed to stay standing. Lloyd crouched near Vinny, holding his arm to help him stand up.

“Who’s there!?” Cole shouted as he banged his fists together, triggering his earth punch. Kai formed a fireball while Jay and Nya pulled out their swords.

As Lloyd began helping Vinny up, he was cut off by a harsh kick to his chest as he was knocked back into Nya, she thankfully caught him and lessened the impact. The cameraman stared back at Lloyd worriedly, but was given a thumbs up from in for comfort.

Vinny looked back in front of him, he took a sharp breathe as he felt cold metal pressed against his neck. It was a spear, which led up to a man…a cold, emotionless expression on his face…

The man was intimidating…black scleras with silver irises that pierced anyones soul just by looking at him, in this case…Vinnys’ soul…scars across his face…not as much as Rida though…a yin sign on his left cheek,…two different skin tones…vitiligo…as well as floor long, fluffy black hair that was tied up in a single bubble braid.

He wore balloon harem pants, with a short waist cloth, armour that looked like it weighed a ton, hardly any of his body shown other than his face. His armour had a flower like insignia which no doubt held some meaning. The spear had some gems scattered across it’s handle as well as the armour. His appearance was interesting…his most striking features, his hair, eyes and vitiligo…

Vinnys’ trembled as the blade of the spear was kept against his neck, he gulped, his adam apple bobbing as he done so. He noticed the mans’ eyes flick down to the dagger which was laid across the ground, a flick of recognition was no doubt in the mans’ expression, before his expression darkened.

“Where’s the dagger from?” The man spoke, it wasn’t a choice to answer he had to. The ninja watched from behind, Nya working up the courage to walk over and crouch next to Vinny knocking the mans’ spear away from his neck.

“He doesn’t have to answer you” the water ninja hissed as she grabbed the dagger from the ground and gave it to Vinny.

“N-Nya it’s fine, honestly…” the cameraman replied a little touched at the care from Nya, considering they’ve only been close friends for a few days, “I-I brought it from somewhere…” Vinny replied to the mans’ question, it was a lie, but it was what everyone believed.

The mans’ eyes sharpened as he grabbed Vinny by the collar of his shirt and pulled him up, “Lying won’t do you any good” He spoke, his voice hid no malice, no threats…no emotion and neither did his expression.

“What would you know?” Kai hissed from the back, clearly ready to fight whenever anything bad happened, the man just ignored Kai.

“I-I’m not lying…” Vinny spoke, his voice was shaking, did the man know Rida and Enji? Did he work with them? Was all that was going through his mind, he couldn’t deal with another like Enji. He looked up at the man, his expression begging for him to stop with the questions, he didn’t want the others finding out he lied.

The mans’ monotone expression faded for a second into realisation, before he sighed and let go of Vinny, and backing away. When this happened the others immediately bunched together. The cameraman let out a shaky breathe one he didn’t know he was holding once he was let go.

“Who are you?” Lloyd questioned,

“Shancai, prince and sworn protector of the Ivory Kingdom” the man spoke before he helped Vinny get up from the ground.

“Hah…that’s nice, but why’d you feel the need to attack us!?” Jay questioned, his rage not well hidden.

“You aren’t from here, technically trespassers” the man spoke bluntly, as he closed his hand around the spear and it disappeared into thin air.

“Ok cool, so where are we?” Kai questioned, as he rubbed his temples.

“As of now, Ivory Kingdom, if you were further into the forest would be the Grove where my sister protects” Shancai spoke as he dragged Vinny to follow him, making sure not to hurt his arm.

“Where are you taking us?” Lloyd asked.

“My mother, she can most likely take you back to wherever you’re from” Shancai replied as he continued walking, he kept Vinny close, glancing at him every now and then, the cameraman stuffed the dagger into his pocket.

“You’re helping us?” Cole asked.

“For now…if I find out you’ve caused trouble in your time of being here I won’t hesitate to change my mind” Shancai replied, as he gave the others a glare.

They continued walking, “I expect a truthful answer when we’re alone…” Shancai whispered quietly to Vinny causing him to take a sharp breathe and nod slightly.

This man definitely knew who Enji and Rida were…Vinny could only hope this man wasn’t working with them…

(I UNDERSTAND VINNY AND SHANCAI HAD A ROUGH MEETING BUT TRUST ME!!! IT WILL GET BETTER IT WILL GET BETTER!!! Also I love Shancai more than all my ocs…he’s so pretty🥺)

[footy-fictionist]

Forever - Karim Adeyemi

Pairing: Karim Adeyemi x female reader

Warnings: it mentions troublesome mental health, physical knee injury (acl), questionable parenting, angst, fluff, probably some badly translated German

Word Count: 1024

Note: I have been going through some things and decided to write it out in the form of something fictional. Karim just happens to be the one I feel most comfortable writing for. Remember, this is purely fiction and know that I in no way know what Karim is like in real life. If you are not comfortable reading things about troublesome mental health, physical knee injuries and troubles with parents and the way they raised you, please do not read! Feedback is always appreciated, so if I forgot anything please let me know. Please do not copy and/or publish my work (reblogs are fine).

Karim has been noticing some changes in his girlfriend lately. It all started when she twisted her knee during a volleyball game. She immediately dropped her whole body to the floor crying out in pain. At first they couldn’t see what the issue was, but eventually the orthopaedist confirmed that she would need surgery to replace her front ACL. She was gutted and broke down crying right after the appointment. She loved playing volleyball and now she’d be out for about a year. Karim knew everything about bad injuries and how awful they could make you feel, not just physically but also mentally. 

He’s been there for her every step and she seemed to be doing alright up until the 4 month mark after her surgery. She became more closed off, gave short answers and barely even greeted him when he came home. She didn’t really eat much and her sleep schedule seemed to be non-existent. Of course Karim wanted to talk to her about it, but he didn’t know where to start or how to even break the subject to her. He decided to first start cheering her up with little things. Bringing home her favourite flowers or her favorite sweets. Running baths for her after her physical therapy. Getting her a new book every once in a while. At the beginning it seemed to lift her mood a little, but slowly even that little light started to fade. 

She wouldn’t talk to him or anyone else about it. Communicating was never her strong suit. She was never allowed to share her opinion at her parents’ house and she wasn’t allowed to talk back or argue. It made sure that she didn’t communicate at all. When she left her parents’ house she started communicating more and then when she started dating Karim, it all became a bit easier for her. Karim knew that communication was key and he communicated everything with her and praised her whenever she communicated with him. He never once got angry, no matter the news. And yet, she was shutting him out now. He didn’t know why, but he could guess. But when he came home from the game against Chelsea and she didn’t say a word to him about it, he had enough. 

“Please tell me what’s going on with you! I can’t stand that you’re not talking to me. I’m here, I’ve never judged you or anything that happened before. What makes you think that I’m gonna judge anything that’s gonna come out? I just played an amazing game, scoring the only goal and you have nothing to say to me?”

She just stared back at him, almost looking unbothered but Karim knew better. He could see her mind working, her eyes showing so many emotions that even he couldn’t keep up. 

“Please, please talk to me. I’m here, always. Please don’t shut me out, Schatz.”

And slowly he could see her mask begin to break. Her hands started shaking, her lip gave a small tremble as her eyes began to water. She pressed her lips together and hid her hands behind her back, but it was no use as the tears started falling. A sob broke through and immediately Karim pulled her into him. Her arms wrapped around him too, her hands fisting his shirt so hard he thought it might rip. She hid her face in his chest, the tears flowing so fast, that they became small rivers on her cheeks. He started rubbing his hands over her back and softly running his fingers through her hair. Soft whispers of love escaped his lips whenever he wasn’t pressing kisses to her hairline. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Karim. I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want to bother you and bring down your happy mood. You’ve been doing so well the past few months. I couldn’t ruin that with my own unhappy thoughts. I started to believe it would be better to keep my distance. But now I can’t anymore. I’m sorry I’m hurting you, I didn’t mean to. Of course I watched the game tonight and saw what you did. You were incredible Karim, ich bin so stolz auf dich.”

The words came flooding out, the dam finally breaking. Karim slowly guided her to the couch and once there he pulled her into his lap, still rubbing her back whilst she now hid her face against his neck. Everything came out, her worries about playing volleyball, the pain she was in, how hard her physical therapy sessions were, how she wanted to support him everywhere but she couldn’t even go to the stadium on her own. After everything came out that she was holding back, she finally started to calm down. Her body, which had been stiff with stress and holding back, started to relax against his. 

That’s when Karim responded to everything she said, reassuring her that she was getting the best care and that she would definitely be able to play again. Telling her how much he loved her and that he appreciated all her support no matter the time or place. She could be on the other side of the world whilst watching the game and he’d know that she was supporting him. The tears stopped and she pulled back and looked him in the eyes. She leant her forehead on his, whilst taking deep breaths, their breathing in sync as well as their heartbeats. 

“Danke für alles, Karim. I wouldn’t know what to do without you. Thank you for your patience with me and for getting me to communicate. Ich liebe dich, für immer.”

“Kein Dank, mein Schatz. Ich liebe dich auch, für immer.”

He pulled his forehead away from her and slowly pressed a few kisses on every part of her face. In the meantime her hands wandered to the back of his head, tangling her hands in his curls, keeping him as close as possible. After all this, she couldn’t be more grateful for Karim. He is her everything, as much as she is his. They both knew they could get through anything together, as long as they communicated.

(Mein) Schatz: my darling/treasure Ich bin so stolz auf dich: I am so proud of you Danke für alles: thank you for everything Ich liebe dich (auch), für immer: I love you (too), forever Kein dank: don't thank me/you're welcome

[danosrosegarden]

I’m sure you’re overwhelmed with requests but if you ever have the time (╥﹏╥) Could you write some male reader/Burt Fabelman because there is literally nothing out there <\3 ! Maybe some headcanons abt what he would be like in his first relationship w/ another man?

holding to the ground - burt fabelman x masc!reader headcanons ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{contains: descriptions of anxiety with a happy ending!}

☽ I'm going to borrow a line from Falsettos: "I was sure growing up, I would live the life my mother assumed I'd live: very Jewish, very middle class, and very straight." It was instilled into Burt from a young age what he'd be: a hardworking, clean-cut man. A husband to a wife. A father to children.

☽ And he was just that for a long while. But his world doesn't spin the way it used to after the split. He can still feel the floors of the old house underneath his feet. The phantom of Mitzi's laugh echoes from the ghost-white walls. The girls are just a phone call away, but their blushing, smiling faces aren't in the next room. Nothing is the same.

☽ And there's you, of course, the new hire at work. Burt's supposed to be watching over you, making sure you don't screw anything up too royally. He's almost angry with you, though. With the way your smile beams and sparkles so gorgeously, the way your smooth voice pours into his ear, the way you carry yourself...you're so effortlessly cool and collected. So simply fun and upbeat. Just handsome and nice to look at. It frustrates him, because he can't have you.

☽ He's supposed to be a professional. He's not supposed to date coworkers. Not to mention how new the concept of being with a man was to him...it nearly frightened him. He was afraid to reach out and grasp the possibility, living in constant dread that it might prick him and drain his blood. What would his family think? His friends? The rest of the world?

☽ But he catches himself. He's always wanted the best for his children. Mitzi gave him these wonderful gifts that he could never repay her for...and what was it that she always encouraged them to do? Follow their hearts? Chase after their dreams? Burt could do the same, if he just plucked up enough courage.

☽ He decides to go with flowers. That's not too overbearing, right? They're a luscious deep red and pink and they smell like the light, airy, puffy clouds of heaven.

☽ Some of his coworkers crack jokes when they see the flowers on his desk. "Looks like someone's back in the game, huh, Burt? Who are those for?"

☽ It isn't until he asks you to stay after work that it all begins to feel impossibly real. The light coat of sweat slicked on his palms. The twist and lurch of his stomach as he grips the flowers tightly. He feels like a crushing teenager again, unable to keep calm when faced with his feelings.

☽ "These are for you, actually." It comes tumbling out in a jumbled, knotted string.

☽ He's unable to read your face for a moment, until a small smile cracks in the corner of your lips. It feels as though a trillion pounds has been lifted from his trembling shoulders. You like them. You like the flowers!

☽ All this to say, Burt might need some time to adjust to the new relationship. He's always going to be followed by the ghost of what could've been, what used to be. But with you, he feels as though he can finally breathe. Let go. Just be himself. He tries to see the good in people, see the good in the bustling world around him. And maybe with a man like you by his side, he can wake up to a world that's brighter. Lighter. With you, he can just be.

[storyblcd]

»»———— “Mmm, I’m a very HONEST person - ” Quiet laugh jolts lightly as his lips graze her pulse point, her poor best friend and his poor, scarred mind ENTIRELY FORGOTTEN - “Why, would you prefer some playing hard to get?” Pulls away slightly if to EMPHASIZE her point, only to take Lian Song’s face between her hands, leaning in - “Shake ‘em up and leave ‘em cold?” 

Grin stretches only wider as she closes last inches between them to kiss him. Whispers, low, against his lips, “Unfortunately, I think I like you MUCH TOO MUCH for that.” 

@a-mighty-thunder​ / continued

[delicrieux]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫  | autumn features (october edition)    

pairing—aemond targaryen x f!reader summary—before flowers can grow they must be nourished, and where is better if not under the gentle care of the red keep? history and prophesy mix into a trigger (29) of horrible things word count—6.7k tagging @thesadvampire​ since they asked nicely !

written for the october prompt list ♥ masterlist. ☕.  autumn features. back to part 1. part 3.  extra.

When you found the princess crouched in the gardens, her hands sullied and fingernails black from scuffling dirt, you had schooled your expression into that of politeness. The rumours you have heard prove to be true:

Prince Aegon, your husband-to-be, has idle hands and an appetite for lust.

Prince Aemond, second born son, dragon-less and meek, follows shamefully in his brother’s shadow with nothing to his name.

Princess Helaena, is, by all accounts, an idiot.

The entourage of servants behind you whisper yet one lift of your finger and they all shush, “Wait here, please.” Your voice is sweet as honey-wine, impossibly supple. It’s not an order, only a gentle request. They bow and lift their dresses cordially as you saunter over to the girl playing in the mud. In horror you watch her admiring the vermin she dug out – nasty creatures with many legs and blacker than the night. She does not flinch at the sight of them, or when they try escaping by crawling down her hand. You surpass a shudder as you kneel beside her.

It’s a sunny afternoon, warm, rosy. You tilt your head curiously with a small smile, “…Do you collect them, princess?”

Helaena startles, as if only now noticing you there. She glances at you then promptly looks away, and her tranquil composure is shattered under your watchful eye. Her fingers tremble and cheeks glow red; she releases the critter and it scurries away into the grass, “…I should never wish to harm them,” She says, and her voice is as soft as you had imagined it being, “My apologies, Lady Tyrell. I was unaware that you had already arrived.”

Truly, there had not been an impressive greeting, but only by your family’s request – you are to befriend these children, leave an impression of compassion and sincerity, and impose, onto the King, a show of loyalty.

That was all it was, a show. Having the approval of the King’s offsprings was integral for the safety and prosperity of the Tyrell lineage, of the future Queen.

“Nonsense,” You utter, airy and lovely and Helaena’s eyes bear into the dirt, ears burning behind strands of snow-white hair, “I must admit I am much fonder of meeting you so than in an exchange of curtsy at court.” Your hand finds her dirty one, holds it, “It is my greatest honour to meet you, sister.”

Her expression shifts to a one of almost panic, and both of her hands suddenly grasp yours as she stares into your eyes, “They feast on foals at dawn.”

You hear a giggle from your entourage and shoot them a sharp look. They quiet met with your ire. When you return your attention to Helaena, you offer her a most charming smile, “Come, sister,” You pull her up, glance at the hems of your dress in dismay that such expensive pretty fabric has been ruined. But the varnish does not wear, “I’d like to walk with you. Tell me more of King’s Landing and your brothers – I should love to know more of them before I meet them.”

They are training; passing blows as the courtyard full of men watch them. Aegon, taller, meaner, laughs at the attempts his brother makes to strike him – he evades easily, languidly, as if it were nothing but a game. Only Aemond takes every match as if it was his last, and the cry he lets out when he swings his sword is fearsome, if not desperate.

It’s Ser Criston Cole that notices your appearance by the Princess’ side, arms linked in solidarity. He dips his head in greeting, and hollers for the boys to stop, “Lady Tyrell.” He addresses as the princes spring away from one another. Aegon’s fingers tighten around the hilt; Aemond, in surprise, drops his sword. Distractions do not bode well in battle: his brother’s foot collides with his chest and he’s sent flying to the ground.

“…Idiot.” Aegon snickers, throwing his sword next to his gasping brother. Taking off his gloves, he flashes you a smile, “Lady Tyrell,” He approaches steadfast, though winded. Once close enough, “well met, I hope?”

“The weather is lovely and I’m in high spirits to finally be here.” Your hand steadies onto Helaena’s with a smile; she’s pleased to be included, “I had been especially—“

“--excited to meet me, yes yes, I know.” He sounds bored, seems even more so. Quick eyes wander to your servant girls and stay fixed there for long enough to consider it a slight to your honour, “We shall get to know one another quite well I think in the upcoming days.”

He’s pigly, just as you had been warned, “I look forward to it, my prince.”

He exits with that, and all is left is for Aemond to collect his pride from the ground and dust off his robes. His steps are not as steady and nor is he as composed as Aegon had been, but there’s a certain underlying charm to him, a gentleness that coats his cheeks and nose and ears in deep red. Tilting his chin up he tries to look you in the eye, but never quite manages. He’s more like Helaena, a pliant thing – getting his favour will be easy.

“Prince Aemond,” You bow, “an honour to finally make your acquaintance.”

“…Likewise, Lady Tyrell.” He utters hoarsely, still reeling from Aegon’s blow.

The boys of Princess Rhaenyra, round faced and curly haired, rush to introduce themselves – courteous, though excited. Aemond melts away, unwanted, as the boys, and Heleana, exchange pleasantries and inquire if you had the chance to taste the sweetcake yet.

“It’s good that you did not join them,” It’s your mother’s voice, a song-like, quiet tune that floats through the balmy night air; she sits on the foot of her bed as the moon hangs outside her window like a frozen tear, “for cake.” There’s a lovely smile on her lips, one you mimic often – one that, as time passes, will become your signature, a half-smile, with the corner of your lips turned downward. Faintly amused, somewhat unassuming – it’s a disarming thing, and the greatest armour a lady could wear. A smile, “Be cordial, though its best you make it clear that you came to court not for them. Though I suppose next time they offer, you must agree to avoid suspicion. Take the princess with you. These small sacrifices must be made.”

Its weeks after your ten and third name day and barely half a year into your stay. You stand by the door, with your hands hooked behind your back and a white linen dress covering the curves that are slowly moulding on your body. Hair unmade and eyes droopy, you glance at the waxing candles, the flickering flames emitting syrupy aromas that make your head spin. It’s an early hour, “But I came for Prince Aegon.”

Her face twitches, as if you have wounded her, “Prince Aemond will do.” She fiddles with the silk shawls draped around her neck, her shoulders, lets the silence stretch and sleep seep through you. Then, alerting, like a chime of a bell, “…Perhaps it’s better yet.” She stands suddenly, as if she can’t bear to sit for longer. She’s still wearing her jewellery; long fingers cast in heavy glimmering rings cup your cheeks, “A fine match, indeed.”

You scoff, “He doesn’t have a dragon.”

She tuts, “The Lord Hand had found the most…fitting compromise.”

“Father will not be pleased.”

“Father is not here to council you, child.” She reminds you, gazing into your eyes, “I am.”

“But Prince Jecaerys and Prince Lucerys have dragons,” You tell her, “surely they’d be a better—“

It’s that smile again, and her eyes sweep you like a frozen tundra, “Don’t jest.” Her hands drop from your face and she turns away, leaving a cold spot, “It’s unbecoming of a lady such as you. No, Prince Aemond is a fine match, indeed.”

“But—“

“No more of this, (Name).” She voices, “The hour is late and I am tired. You will read and play chess with Prince Aemond and ask of his interest. You will sit and marvel at Princess Heleana’s collection and you will not complain. And you should never find yourself in a room alone with Prince Aegon. The fate of our house depends on it. Such is your duty.”

Scorned, your eyes glare into the ground, “…I understand, mother.”

The funeral of Lady Laena and the quick betrothal between Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon had silenced the walls of the Keep, as if they had gone to mourning. You did not attend the funeral, and what you have heard only came from rumours whispered between prayers and ceremonies honouring the dead.

The King’s Hand had found you in the gardens picking flowers to bring to the Sept for the memorial of Prince Daemon’s late wife. The evening was golden-orange and King’s Landing was burning in the embers of the setting sun. Your entourage of servant girls were dismissed promptly upon his arrival, and when he, feigning innocence, had confessed that Prince Aemond had returned and had been injured gravely by the savage acts of Princess Rhaenyra’s children, you did not need to ask what was expected of you.

So you smiled, dipped your head in a nod, and as if sensing your retreat the maids flocked and collected white chrysanthemums and  black lilies from your hands. Another servant, one of Lord Hightower’s, appeared by his side and passed you a small, heavy box that clattered from within.

“Prince Aemond will be delighted by your company.” The Lord Hand smiled, though it was hard, stroppy, unused.

“Surely no more than I at the news of his safe return.” You said, and the words sounded so hollow, so deeply displeased underneath the sweet coat of a white lie, “Do excuse me now, my lord.”

The empty halls echo with your footsteps, and despite being alone, you feel as if you are watched: by the Lord Hand, by your mother’s all Seeing Eye, by the servants hidden beneath arches and pillars and the righteous glare of the Seven. Your pace is quick and shoulders tense, and when you reach Aemond’s door you halt for only a moment. It’s the last of your hesitation, drained, slowly, as you knocked on his door.

No guards patrolling, as if they had orders to make scarce upon your arrival. You knew that if you were to tend for Prince Aegon, then the spike of anxiety gripping your chest would be well founded. But Prince Aemond is gentle, and it is hardly the first time you visit his room on drawn-out evenings with a book in hand.

But those meant nothing, were simply part of a journey and a built-up to an expectation that was too far into the future to care.

This… is not.

The door creaks open and the face that greets you is gaunt, terrified by your appearance. Pale even in candlelight, Aemond seems to turn to stone, one good eye staring at you, through you, as his hand grips the handle tightly.

Your lips twitch into a lovely smile, like a mask pulling itself into place, “My prince…” There’s a hurtful note in your voice as you regard him, eyebrows pinching, worried, and it’s only partly untrue, “I’m glad to…” You quiet, think, continue, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Lady Tyrell.” He mutters.

You motion to the box in your hands. His gaze burns there, contemplating, before he curtly nods and steps aside.

His room is clean and well aired, dim and full of dancing shadows. Unlike Aegon’s unmade bed or Helaena’s butterfly collection, there are books and parchment scattered. A broken quill and a spilled bottle of ink lay on the floor, untouched. You take in the sight, and there’s a pang somewhere deep within your chest that you recognise as pity.

You clear your throat, set the box down not minding the ink you step on, or that it slowly soaks into the hems of your dress, “Sit, please.” You offer gently, and he does so after a moment of loitering by the door. His approach is taut and awkward, and when he takes a seat on a plush armchair, he sits rigid, “May I?”

His voice sounds harsh as it says, “You came here all this way for that, didn’t you?”

It takes you slightly aback, but you sparsely show it, “Indeed, my prince.” You murmur, lifting the lid of the box and taking out gauze and some glass bottles with shiny liquids inside, “I wished to confirm for myself that you had returned. And that the maesters treated you well.”

“Surely they’d know better.”

“That they—“

“Or do you doubt the skill of the best maesters the Citadel has to offer compared to your own?”

It’s a brash thing festering within him, one that was not roused by his brother’s taunting, but awoke after the blade—oozed out of the cut. He had not yet learned to pick his words, delighted, even, perhaps, to show his thorns. It’s a frightening thing to grow so cold overnight.

“That I do not, my prince. I know my skills can seldom compare to even a novel scribe at the Citadel.” You admit, but it’s a gracious defeat, a light-hearted statement of simple fact, “But I see no maester here, and if you would prefer him to check your wounds, I would gladly fall back and watch for all I care for is your…” You pause, “…safety.”

He hasn’t learned to master his emotions yet. They play on his features as if in broad daylight – a wave of reluctant emotions that gradually fade to submission, “…My apologies if I offended you, Lady Tyrell.” He doesn’t look at you as he says this, “It was not my intention.”

You merely hum in response, your fingers working on untying the knot on the back of his head. His face slowly flushes red, and once you gently peel away at the gauze he comments, bitterly, “It’s an ugly thing. I would rather you not see it.”

It runs deep, pulses red with barely scabbed skin, pink at the side blooming purple-green. The socket is empty, a mushy crevice that’s tender to air and he flinches once the wet fabric is discarded. Your heart stutters in your chest and the placid smile slowly draws to a thin line, “…It must hurt.” You mutter, “I’m sorry it had come to this.”

“It’s fine.” He mumbles, though clearly it is not, “I gained a dragon. Vhagar.”

“A wonderful beast, I’m certain,” You say, cleaning his wound. His fingers dig into the armchair. He trembles, but does not cry, “The biggest dragon alive, correct?”

“Yes. You should see her, she’s magnificent.”

“I would very much like that, if you were to take me to her.”

Finally, there’s a smile on his lips, one you missed seeing, and he’s gentle again, same as he had been, reluctant, almost, to express his desires, “We can go in the morrow. I’ll tell you all about her.”

“The visit can wait till morning, but I’d like to hear of her now. If you would indulge me.”

“…If you care to listen.”

“I do.”

“Then I will always indulge you, Lady Tyrell.”

You smile, “We are to wed, my prince. Surely you needn’t be so formal.”

You figured it would cheer him up somehow, remind him that your companionship is promised, that you are bound, but it does the opposite. He quiets as you finish cleaning, and remains silent when you wrap a fresh cloth to hide the wound.

Only when you put away your instruments and shut the box does he utter, “I know that I’m not the husband you wished for.” He gulps, “…And I understand that you must feel slighted.”

You don’t answer.

“But know that,” He continues, “I shall treat you with nothing but respect and I shall remain faithful to you only, as a husband should.”

You produce a smile, lovely and heartfelt and almost real—whether he notices, whether he can notice with only one good eye and no true clue to your nature, you can only guess. You snatch his hand, cradle it in your palms, “…I shall be happy to be your wife, my prince.” He stiffens at the affection of your tone. So rehearsed, so refined, yet so affective.

He made well on his promise, made no advances that would defile your honour, and the most he had asked was for your favour.

It was his tenth and seventh name day, a bright, sunny afternoon in which even the ever solemn Queen Alicent seemed joyful. Wine was passed and trays full of food were carried by servants. Lords and ladies mingled, your family among them, chatting idly, though you know they kept their eye on you.

Donned in your best dress and finally free of Helaena’s clutches, you saunter to fill your cup.

“Fancy a joke, my wife-that-never-was?”

It’s hardly a subtle jab, but Aegon had never been much for theatrics – on the contrary, you found him to be quite transparent, vile with his intentions, but he never hid behind his name or the marble carvings of his face. Nursing a cup and chewing on a grape, he leans close to your ear, “Though I suppose your engagement to my brother is humorous enough.”

You smile, “It’s good to see you, Prince Aegon.” You say lightly, “We missed you at the starting ceremony. Seems you have been…occupied.”

He snorts, taking a sip and glancing at his brother, “Not that you’d know. Has he bed you yet?”

“This joke you speak of,” You continue, “I would very much fancy hearing it.”

He grins, “So he hasn’t.”

“How would you know?” You inquire with a raised brow, “Do you spy on your brother and I when we’re alone?”

He laughs, loud, boisterous, drunk—it catches the attention of a few nobles and Aemond alike, “Please, (Name).” He snickers, “I only need my eyes to see it.” You would slap him if you could, and so your hand grips your cup just a tad tighter, “Do you like it, by the way? The one-eyed look. Does it tickle your fancy?”

“I suppose the joke had been you all along.”

He shakes his head, still grinning, “Do you know why my dearest I’m-bored-to-fuck-of-tourneys-brother decided to host one on his name day?” He bites the rim of his glass, like a cat waiting for a treat.

“Do pray tell, brother,” You mutter, noting Aemond’s steady approach, “since you seem beside yourself to speak it.”

He draws closer again, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “Because I asked for your favour on mine.”

“Aegon,” Aemond’s curt voice cuts the air like a knife. The older brother pushes back, smiling to himself, “try not boring (Name) with your nonsense. Surely she’d rather listen to something else. An execution, perhaps.” You hide your laugh beneath a poorly disguised cough.

“Apologies.” You murmur.

“I should like to speak with you, (Name).” Aemond offers his elbow.

Your hand wraps around it easily, like many times before, “Lead and I shall follow, Aemond.”

“How quaint.” Aegon comments. The two of you easily ignore him.

Out of the Red Keep’s mess hall and in the lush garden, Aemond stops, “What had he told you?”

“I would truly rather speak of the weather.” You state dully.

A smile slips onto his lips, “I imagined as much.”

He’s grown – once a boy barely reaching your shoulder now towers over you. His hair is long and soft as Helaena’s. You would know, you had spent many nights braiding it. Aemond insisted that the servants never got it right.

“Did you wish to discuss something or just save me from your brother?” You ask.

“I doubt you’d need saving, though I would not miss the chance to try.” He responds, “But there is something I wished to ask you.”

“Must be important.” You note.

“It is.”

The two of you wait for the servants to pass, dipping their heads in curtsy and lifting their dresses, offering a passing dessert or a refill for wine. All is declined cordially, though affectively. The garden is vacant, besides you, Aemond, and the flowers. So many had bloomed, opened their petals in celebration. Mother had said it is a sign of good things to come.

“I wish to ask you for your favour during the tourney.” He states.

You blink, “And I shall give it without question, you needn’t ask in advance.”

“I wish for one now, as well.”

You grin, “…I suppose princes make their own rules.”

“You shall be a princess, too.”

“Then I hope to write many decrees that work in my favour.” You say, “But very well, my prince. I shall give you my favour, and if no one asks for it during the tourney, I shall give it again.”

He frowns, “Do think that’s not what I requested.”

“And yet,” You draw closer, “that is what you shall get.”

Your hands land on his shoulders and your lips brush a chaste kiss on the taunt skin of his scar.

He does not move once you pull away – stunned, perhaps, or distraught. Reading him had become difficult. He enjoys his secrets and reveals what he’s thinking only when faced with a challenge. Your wittiness had withstood the test of time. Your mother was pleased.

“I will be most disappointed if you lose.” You tell him.

He hums, “Then I will simply not.”

In the break of dawn you’re back in the room of melting scents; the hot air sticks to your skin, makes it difficult to breathe. Once a waxing moon you slip away from your chambers quietly, masked by shadows, carrying a secret that’s weight had become heavy over the years.

“Well?” Your mother’s voice is rasp, and there are lines around her lips and eyes that had shown more over the years. She’s still beautiful, wrapped in her opulence, drowning in her jewellery and riches, “Any news?” She ceases brushing her hair, puts away the comb and smiles at you – you are no longer young enough to be fooled by it, “He asked for your favour during the tourney, surely he has paid you a nightly visit.”

“No, mother. He has not.”

“And what of you?” It feels as if she struck you, “Did you not knock on his door at midnight?”

Your throat closes – there’s shame swirling in the pits of your belly, a great discomfort that makes the hands behind your back grip tighter, “No, mother. I did not.”

A harsh exhale comes through her nose. Her reaction is expected, yet it hurts all the same. Her gaze slices you – you’re stepping on glass, “…This won’t do.”

You’re quick to speak up, “I do think he likes me—“

“It is not the question of like, my daughter.” She scolds, and suddenly you are young, six or seven, and staring into the depths of the floor where a gem had shattered from your clumsy fingers, “He must love you.”

Something’s burrowing deep within you – a doubt, an irritation – and you try to keep your chin up so you would not appear weak in front of her. She has asked you for many things over the years, but now you feel as if you are privy to knowledge that had been kept from you, part of an unravelling scheme that you had not been an active participant to, but rather a passive rook pushed by an omnipotent hand in the direction of victory.

“What does it matter if he loves me or not?” It was supposed to sound hard coming from your lips, a displeased grunt let out from between the teeth. But it’s pliant, confused, childish. You had outgrown your old dresses, but it seems you had not outgrown this.

“Be wise, daughter.” Have you not been anything but? “A man in love is a man that listens. And there may soon come a time when a request will need to be heard.”

“A husband will support his wife.” You state with quick, anxious blinks.

“A husband will not care for her if he loves her not.” She bites back, and you have never seen her so visibly restless.

Your throat feels scratchy. Nails bite crescent moons into your palms, “And what of honour? My honour, as a lady?”

“And what of duty?” She inquires, “Of sacrifice?” She steps closer and you would step back if the door was not already ghosting your fingers, “Or do you plan on sabotaging what we have spent years trying to create?”

There’s a crack somewhere – your jaw from a harsh bite or perhaps your heart – one that shows through a treacherous tear that rolls down your cheek, “…No, mother.” You reply hoarsely, eyes red but head held high. You stare onward somewhere behind her shoulder, unable to look at the face that looks too much like your own and not enough, “I have no such plans.”

“Then we shall speak no more of it.”

It’s a sombre dawn, wintry – pale and unforgiving, as though the sun reflected from a glacier. Once out of your mother’s bedchamber you release a ragged breath, fold into yourself, and grip at the linen underskirt. She sits there, behind the carved wooden slab, unperturbed by your shakiness, and it feels as if one of her silky shawls had wrapped around your throat and kept you leashed.

You move cautiously after you collect your bearings, mind reeling, tears still falling, and you wish you could gather them for her – she would, in her hands, crush them, cool them, make them into pearls for her to wear, or perhaps give them to you as a token of misery. Had you not done enough? Had it not been years of playing servitude to these lords and ladies, prince and princesses? They adore you, all of them, just as it was meticulously planned, laboriously executed.

Perhaps it hurts because you had grown to love them – the Targaryens and Hightowers and the in-between; perhaps this feeling is but a passing spell and will abate once you’re fully rested, and you’ll be able to think clearly once more.

You move in the direction of your chambers quietly, aching and lost in thought, and you had always been keen to note the mistakes of others and even more so of yourself. This playground is dangerous, and distractions end in losing one’s head. Yet you fail to hear the jarring steps of an approaching knight, and only notice him once he calls you over.

Ser Criston Cole seems rested. His armour glints in the rising sun and his eyes promptly shift from your form to the wall beside you, “It’s an awfully early hour, my lady.”

You are aware of your state of undress, the unmade hair, and waxen eyes; aware of the tremble in your body, both from the cold and from the despair clawing from within. And for the first time in many years, you stare at him and your mind draws blank of an excuse, numbed from shock. But silence frames culprits, and when a smile lifts the corners of your lips your back straightens along with it, “Indeed. I could not sleep after such festivities – and what better way to call forth sleep if not to actively dismiss it? Do excuse me now.”

“Allow me to take you back to your bedchamber, Lady Tyrell.” And he moves with conviction, still not gazing in your direction.

“A kind offer, but surely given the hour you need to meet your own matters. I shall have no trouble navigating the Keep on my own.”

“I insist, Lady Tyrell.” He says, “You must be tired. It would be unwise to wander in such a state.”

He may frame his words as care, though he lacks the poise to make it believable. He is set to make sure you wander nowhere else. He’s not an escort, but a guard, and the hilt of his sword glimmers as a warning. Surely he would not draw it, not unless he felt that you were a threat to the sanctities of the royal family.

You have heard much of him and his shield of righteousness – behind it hides a vexed, easily tempered man. A wrong push and there may be your blood coating his hands soon enough.

“…Very well, ser.” You concede, walking beside him, “You are most generous.”

“I am from the Queens guard,” He starts, and the pride in his voice is unmistakable, “and the Queen cares deeply about you. It would be a terrible misfortune if something were to happen.”

A terrible misfortune.

“It brings me great joy that the Queen cares for me, as I for her.”

“You have her trust,” He says, “and certainly a lady such as yourself would never think to break it.”

“Careful, Ser Criston,” You remind tartly, “for if I were not a lady such as myself, I might mistake your tone for suspicion.” But you smile, “Though, surely it is not for a White Cloak to speak with such insinuation.”

“Forgive me, Lady Tyrell,” He utters, “it must be the hour. I did not mean to offend you.”

He did, and once you are safely in your room he will run with his tail between his legs to tell the Queen all about this encounter. The conclusions they will draw will be anything but the truth, and none will be in your favour.

You had never been more glad to see the entrance to your gilded prison.

“This is where I leave you.” He mutters, bowing, “Rest well, Lady Tyrell.”

You say nothing, already half-way shutting the door.

You are neither cornered nor executed. Weeks pass, and you almost convince yourself that the encounter with Ser Criston was nothing but a waking dream, an omen of what was to happen if you did not focus, entirely conjured by a frightened, sleepless mind.

“Do you ever wish you could go home, sister?” It’s Helaena’s voice that draws you way from the game of chess. Carefully, you move your knight to A6. The marble figures clatter as you strike down Aemond’s pawn. She’s stitching by the window, under the warm afternoon sun, “Back to Highgarden, that is.” She bites her lip, sets down her needlework, “I must admit!” There’s such light, carefree enthusiasm in her voice – you envy it, “I would like to visit Highgarden. We never visit it enough.”

“It’s a long journey, my princess,” You tell her. Your eyes shift to Aemond, “though, I suppose it is considerably lessened on dragonback.”

“Would you go? On dragonback, if we were to organise a trip?” Helaena inquires, “I sure would love to visit Highgarden. It’s so beautiful.” She turns back to look out the window, “Much more beautiful than King’s Landing, I think…” She adds to herself, going back to her stitching. This rendition is of a pale rose, “White from fire.” She says.

Aemond is silent on the other side of the board, contemplative. He assesses the pieces, and his brows are crinkled in concentration. The sun turns his hair to liquid in its glare. He’s beautiful, almost impossibly so.

“Perhaps.” You say, “But I’m not ashamed to admit that Vhagar frightens me.”

Aemond glances up from the board. You meet his gaze with a smile.

“Oh come now,” Helaena laughs, “Vhagar wouldn’t hurt you. Aemond would never allow it.”

His gaze then slides to his sister, and by now you know him well enough to realise that something is amiss. He is resigned to silence often, but with Helaena he has words to spare, and often many. He’s quick to entertain her, mostly for the sole reason that no one besides you does. His silence and the tick of his jaw unnerve you slightly.

“…Helaena,” His tone is light, but the way he regards you implies trouble, “would you give me and my betrothed a moment?”

Tension spikes in the air. Helaena’s laughter slowly dies in her throat as she moves, uncomfortable. Still keeping a cordial smile, she stiffly sets down her embroidery and, before leaving, declares, “I should check on Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. There’s never enough time.”

You stare at the rose she left, the game momentarily forgotten. Aemond moves his bishop across the board, “Would you consider yourself a traveller, (Name)?”

“I would not, no.” You say easily, your palms brushing out the creases of your dress, “I get sick on ship and terribly bored in a carriage.”

He picks up his queen, bone-white, almost the colour of his skin, and admires her for a moment, “…See, that’s not what I heard at all.”

Your smile does not waver, but the warmth in your eyes dissipates, “I did not expect you being interested in idle gossip.” You grasp your pawn and when you set it back down the sound echoes bleakly, like a crack of thunder, “I figured it was beneath you.”

“Where else would you like to go, Lady Tyrell?” He leans back in his seat, watching you closely. He seems genial almost, if not for the smiting look in his eye, “No need to exhaust yourself with options, let’s stick to the King’s Landing. Or better yet, the Keep. Especially on the hour of the owl when everything’s so…” He looks around, “…quiet. It must be quite curious, no?”

“It can be calming after the calamities of a day at court.”

He smiles – it’s a sharp, harsh thing, “I would seldom know since I stick to my quarters. Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

“Of what?” You raise a brow, “A walk to clear one’s head? The maesters recommend it, even. But surely you know that already, my prince.” You try to soften him, appeal to the nature that you know hides behind a hard shell that rarely ever opens. But the varnish is coated in layers and hard and long since dried – your pliant hands can’t do away at it, and your words move him even less.

“Humour me.” He says, “Pretend I don’t know that. Tell me, what is there to see at the Keep when the rest are sleeping.”

You sit just a bit straighter in your chair, “The lonely corridors, silent halls, deaf statues and others of the sort. There’s a certain splendour to it all on late nights or early mornings. Like a vacant Sept. It can almost be…eerie, but I suppose even that eeriness has a dangerous charm to it.” Your eyes don’t leave him, “Frightening, in a way… though undoubtedly beautiful.”

“And this beauty you speak of…” He draws in, “is it tied to a particular location?”

“There’s no one part. It’s all of it. All of that cold loveliness. You wouldn’t understand.”

He hums, tilting his head to the side, “…Perhaps you are correct, Lady Tyrell. That I wouldn’t. But I am curious to what sort of secrets you uncover late at night, if you were to indulge your betrothed still.” He slowly comes to a stand.

You crane your neck to look at him, “Unlike some, I prefer my secrets to be mine alone.”

“Surely you don’t mean me, Lady Tyrell.” He says as he moves closer, so casual that a stumbling servant may think that you’re simply discussing the weather.

“Of course not, my prince.” You breathe out, “It is only…an expression. One I hope did not offend you.”

“I believe that all words coming from a liar have a certain offence.” He halts suddenly, and before you can blink, his hand grasps your jaw harshly. Your heart thunders in your chest, eyes wide, “I would speak now, Lady Tyrell. While I still had my tongue.”

“My prince—“

“You must admit that your secrecy is a cause of concern, no?”

“Aemo—“

“Tell me, where were you headed, undressed and untidy like a common—“

“Don’t.” The voice that leaves your lips doesn’t sound like your own. It’s angry and sharp, like a whip. He swallows down what he had almost uttered, and his grip loosens, enough to wrestle free and come to a stand, “As I am well-mannered, and endlessly forgiving, I am willing to forget what you have just done. But know that if you are ever to treat me so again—“

“What will you do?” He questions, “You’re a lady from a noble family, one of many—“

“Then you are free to marry whichever one of them, seeing as there’s a line of them waiting for me to be replaced.” You state, “I have served in your court for years and never slighted you. I have done all that was asked of me and more, and even now, faced with such contempt, I chose to forgive you, for we are to wed. But so be it. Call it off and I shall return home and you can find yourself a lady one as I from the Stormlands, or better yet, if it’s a common whore you fancy, no need to exhaust yourself with options, my betrothed. For you are sure to find even more of those in the Keep and beyond it, as your brother had.”

He smiles, but it seems cold, cruel, defensive, “…Even cornered you don’t lose your composure.” There’s a hint of admiration as there is a hint of mockery. He stands tall and imposing, but he does not move to touch you again, “Though you insist on playing dumb. Very well, then. Act dumb all you please, it is sure to humour my brother. But you must know, Lady Tyrell,” He’s close now, by your ear, “that now I see you as you are.”

It seems as though from that day forth, you and Aemond had engaged in a different kind of chess – one that’s stakes seemed almost endlessly higher.

notes: thank you everyone for the kind comments! <3 and yes, before you ask, when reader was describing the vacant halls of the keep and their almost sacred beauty, she was actually talking about aemond

also im president of i hate ser crispin club

[sumsebien]

how i won the war (2/3)// the darkling

part 1 // part 3 // masterlist

summary: general kirigan’s plans backfire. sun summoner!y/n finds herself torn between love and country, truth and deception. (the show but with a twist.)

pairing: the darkling x fem sun summoner! yn

warnings: mention of blood, spoilers for the show

word count: 3k

a/n: the response to the first part was absolutely overwhelming in the best way possible!! so a huge huge thank you to everyone for reading and for your support🥲💕

Y/N slumped her shoulders, trying to understand what was happening. The man who had been nothing but gallant to her was the Black Heretic? She racked her brain, tracing back to every thing he had ever said and done. All of them could simply pass as thoughtful gestures, as nothing more than just him being nice. How could she have known that it was all part of a cruel game?

Baghra kept her voice calm, knowing how much of a shock this must have been for the young girl. “He wants to turn the Fold into a weapon, take over the world. And he will be able to do it now that he has you.”

It was ridiculous how important everyone seemed to make her out to be. Y/N could summon the lights just like an Inferni could summon fire and the Darkling could summon shadows. How would she being here make any difference to his plans? “Me?”

“You. You are everything. With your power and his, nothing can stop him.”

“What if I don’t agree to help him?”

Baghra shook her head. “Unnecessary.”

Y/N cocked an eyebrow. What?

“The stag’s bones can do more than just amplify. They can merge powers. After he finds and kills the stag, he will try to do so, which is where you come in.”

...

When Aleksander returned to the room, Y/N was still there, sitting on the desk just where he had left her. The sight oddly soothed him. He could get used to this.

Y/ N heard the door click open. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest and she prayed he couldn’t hear it.

She wiped the tears from her eyes quickly and put on a small smile. If she was to do the right thing, she was going to have to keep up her naivety and make it look believable.

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning at dusk. Apparently that was when the Tracker found it,” he said, walking around his desk towards her. “I think you had better get some rest now.”

“Yes,” she said, unable to fully meet his gaze without feeling her hands trembling. She pushed herself off of the desk, keeping her eyes on the ground. “General.”

He slipped his hand into hers. His touch still brought fire to her skin. “I never told you my name, Y/N. I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” she shook her head. She would rather not have another lie spoon-fed to her. What was he going to say? Dominik? Igor? Maksimilian? Said he never revealed it to her because it brought shame to him? Because he got it from his long lost predecessor, the Black Heretic?

“Aleksander. Call me Aleksander.”

Four words that spun her into a spiral. He told her his real name. She looked at his hand in hers, his long fingers covering hers. And then she gathered the courage to look him in the eye. His gaze hadn’t changed. Nothing had changed for him. At least, not that he knew of. Yet.

But for her, everything had changed, twice in a matter of moments. Her world ripped in two, leaving her hopelessly torn. She nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Aleksander.”

...

That day, Y/N managed to ignore him. Normally, it wouldn’t have been so easy. He was everywhere, behind every door, on every balcony, in every shadow she saw. But the newly arisen hunt had him busy, probably in the war room strategizing his plans for tonight, for her.

He had sent flowers to her room, though, apologizing for not being able to join her for breakfast and made a promise to see her as soon as he could. For her sake, she hoped that he broke it.

She took her alone time to prepare herself, practiced summoning her light and did her best to remember Baghra’s words. But she would be lying if she said that was all she did.

He was on her mind the entire time, as much as she tried to push him away. There were moments where she wanted to rip her hair out, thinking how much easier it would have been had he lied to her last night before she left.

Things became increasingly harder for her as they began their carriage ride. He kept her in his arms the entire time. It got colder and colder as they neared their destination. Winds rattled the windows, slipping past the gaps, turning the glass foggy and their breaths into smoky clouds.

Her kefta was not enough to save her from shivering. But he was. For a shadow summoner, he was surprisingly warm. And sweet. He made sure she was alright every couple of minutes, offering to stop at every town. She only caught a break when he dozed off. Head tilted back against the leather seat, occasionally tipping towards her. She watched him, her eyes tracing the handsome features she was supposed to despise.

He had been the perfect gentleman. And that worried her. More than ever, she wondered if she should be plotting his demise when all he wanted was to protect her. He wanted her warm, well-fed and safe. And that was more kindness than anyone had ever shown someone like her.

But if she was wrong, there’d be consequences. Fatal ones that would cost countless lives of people all over the world, not just in Ravka.

As she looked out of the windows, the fate of millions weighing on her shoulders, Aleksander woke. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly, pressing his cheek against her temple.

“I’m alright.” Her lips stretched into a small smile, disguising her troubles.

He held the lapels of her kefta, straightening them as he stared into her eyes. His dark eyes the color of the velvet night sky. “Not too cold?” She was about to say no again, stop him before he could suggest another detour. But he continued, “Because if you are, there are a couple of ways we could get you warm again.”

Her gaze leveled with his pink lips which were slightly parted as small puffs of air blew from them.

It was wrong. She should hate him for the things he had done to the world, for what he was going to do.

He inched his face closer, one of his hands slid under her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek, “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

“General-“ she began, the words dying on her lips as she got lost in his hypnotic touch.

“Aleksander,” he corrected, lowering his eyes to her lips for an extended moment.

“Aleksander, I want you to keep me warm.”

Aleksander bowed his head. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. “As my lady commands.”

And he brought his lips to hers. Her doubts cleared, with his hand pulling her closer by her waist, all she could see was him. She forgot the guilt that weighed on her conscience, all she could feel was him.

When he ran his tongue ran along her lower lip, the world held its breath. In that moment, she understood him when he said there were only the two of them in the world. No one else. Believed him wholeheartedly.

And then, the carriage stopped. Like all good things, their kiss came to an end. Aleksander slowly broke away but his eyes and hands remained on her. He didn’t look like he wanted to let go of her any time soon either. “I adore you, Y/N,” he said, a glint in his obsidian eyes. She focused on it, noticing how the darkness didn’t swallow the spark, rather enhanced it. Could that be them? Her light enhanced by his shadows?

Ivan appeared at the door, knocking against it with an announcement: “I think we’ve found it, sir.”

A quiet sigh escaped his lips, like the thought of leaving her was so burdensome to him. “I’ll go check. Stay here and be safe,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

“No! I’ll come with you.”

Aleksander chuckled, nodding his head when she practically leapt out of the carriage after him. “Stay close behind me.” He made sure to get a nod from her before beginning to walk away.

The night had completely befallen upon Tsibeya. Clouds of fog descended on the ground, illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Shadows of skinny, weaving branches printed itself on the stark white grounds.

Aleksander spoke in hushed tones with his Heartrender a couple of steps ahead. Y/N foolishly believed that him distracted would give her the relief she needed to collect herself and make a decision she would not regret. But it only made things worse. If she thought the internal debate she had with herself this morning was bad then this should be considered wholly unbearable.

Whatever came over her moments ago, she had no control over it. It was just a natural, almost instinctive response to his touch. That was scary. If he had that kind of effect on her, how was she going to do as Baghra asked? Should she even be considering it in the first place? There was the possibility of him being an immortal threat to Ravka’s freedom but he could very well be a misunderstood man, her soulmate.

Then she heard it. A crunch in the ground so subtle it could have been lost to a breeze.

Y/N held her breath, turning her head slowly, silently. And there it was. Behind of a tree walked out a magnificent stag. Its antlers formed a circle over its head, mimicking the branches on the trees. In this light, its fur looked almost white, its jet black eyes shining. It looked ahead, towards her. It was so hypnotically beautiful that she could not help but admire like one would a masterpiece in the gallery. She wanted it alive. No she knew it should be kept alive.

Behind Y/N, pistols were being drawn. Sounds that could very well stir the silence and shoo away the stag. Y/N looked back, about to tell Aleksander’s guards to stand down but found that he had already ordered so with the wave of his hand.

She smiled. He didn’t want it dead. He didn’t want to claim its powers. He was a good man. He was her soulmate.

Y/N turned back, feeling safe enough to take one step closer. The stag wasn’t afraid of her, approaching slowly, dipping its head. Confidently she reached out her hand and the stag closed its eyes, allowing her to place her hand on the side of its face. Upon contact, out from around her came the most magical web of light. Much more powerful than she had ever been able to produce on her own. She felt a burst of life coursing through her upon feeling the warmth under its fur, its breath on her hands. This creature was as real as she was. Not a myth or a weapon. And most certainly not a possession for anyone to claim.

She turned around to see Aleksander admiring the light, right behind her, in the force field with her. She gazed at his hands laying on either sides of him and held out her own, wanting him to feel what she felt right then. But as soon as she took hold of his hand, the stag stirred. Startled, it reared, hitting her hand with its hooves and scratching her palm. It made her jump backwards, hitting Aleksander’s chest in the process. A bit of blood spilled from the gash but it didn’t hurt, not did it worry her.

What he was going to do worried her. Filled with anger, he held up his hands, shadows gathering between them. Her eyes widened in absolute horror as she yelled for him to stop. “No! No! Aleksander!” She wanted to take ahold of his hands, ask him to look at her and have mercy for her sake.

But it had already been done.

In a flash, the Cut hurried itself towards the running stag, slicing it in half before it could make its getaway. Its head fell upon the ground, antlers pushing into the snow while its body laid limp, lifeless, bloody against the ground.

Y/N held up her hands to cover her eyes, tears streaming from them as she twisted away. The sight was too gruesome. He was gruesome. Aleksander’s arms wrapped themselves around her shaking frame. And she did everything in her power not to flinch.

“Get me the antlers,” he said, lifting his chin and angling it towards the stag. Her heart fell. He was going to do it. He was the Black Heretic after all. She heard footsteps around her, rustles, grunts as his guards picked up the stag, presumably.

Aleksander pressed his lips to her forehead, still holding her. “Are you alright, darling? I am sorry you had to see that.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat, blinking away her tears. “I am alright,” she lied, wiping her face with the back of her hands.

“Did it hurt you?”

She shook her head, hiding her palm from him. But it was no use anyways, as he had ordered his Healer over to take a look. After her skin healed, not even a scar left behind, Aleksander turned to watch David dissect the antlers. Y/N did too. However difficult it may be, she forced herself to see them saw off two pieces from the stag’s antlers.

“Would you like to wait, sir?” Ivan asked, accompanying David as they brought the antlers to Aleksander. The rest of the stag discarded like a piece of trash. They discussed their plans, plans which she had been warned against by Baghra. They talked about her as if she wasn’t there at all.

She knew what she needed to do. He was not planning on saving this world.

“I think we should. Y/N’s hurt-“

“I am ready,” she said, causing all of their eyes to focus on her. She was ready and she was going to do this tonight no matter what.

Aleksander placed a hand on her back, rubbing some warmth back into her. “Are you absolutely certain? It is late. We can do it in the morning. Anytime you’re ready.”

It was difficult as it was, now with him being all sweet and kind did not help. “No,” she shook her head firmly, looking away from his eyes. “I am fine. I want this now. Please.”

Aleksander blinked. Meanwhile, Y/N gave David the order to go ahead with a simple nod of her head.

“This will enhance your powers greatly,” David explained, balancing the antler on her collarbone. It weighed on her like shackles to a prisoner’s legs, dragging her down with guilt. On the back of Aleksander’s hand was a rounded piece of antler.

Y/N listened to David. Or rather pretended to. Anything to keep herself busy enough not to look at Aleksander. He was watching her, worry clouding his eyes as though he had just watched her getting shot. And she was shot right through the heart, just not by bullets or arrows.

“Both of your powers.”

“Are you ready?” Aleksander asked, receiving a quick nod from Y/N.

David touched the antlers, closing his eyes and began the ritual.

Y/N’s voice was shaking as she repeated Baghra’s words. “Merge powers?”

“He will be able to control your light. But you won’t be able to control his shadows.” She sucked in a dry breath, suffocated by the notion that he wanted to own her. He said she was his equal...Or was that a lie too?

“Unless you resist. Mentally.”

Lights were being drawn from her. Just as before, the beams weaved into an elaborate web, dancing around her. She felt the air knocked out of her lungs, leaving her chest burning. The skin around her collar bones were stretched over the antlers, leaving her raw and itchy.

She shut her eyes, seeing the stag before her like before. But it kept the distance, backing away slowly. She could feel it slip away from her grasps.

“Resist it. Fight him. It cannot be done without consent knowingly or unknowingly.”

She opened her eyes, seeing Aleksander reaching out to her with his other hand. The sight stabbed her in the ribs, a sharp pain coursing through her when she saw his eyes. Loving, trusting and naive. He was just like her when she first met him. And she was going to be just like him.

She closed her eyes and summoned his shadows with all that she had inside. She saw the stag again, its head beneath her touch. And she could hear painful gasps. His painful gasps.

When she opened her eyes, it had been done. The antler had been healed into her bones, her skin covering it as though it was a part of her. She felt stronger than she had ever been but there was a sinking feeling. His burden was now all hers to carry just as his powers were hers to control.

Aleksander fell to his knees, his hands clutching his chest as he heaved breathless breaths. He coughed, his entire body trembling.

“What have you done?” Ivan demanded, rushing to clutch David’s neck, not even bothered to use his powers.

Aleksander looked up at Y/N as though directing the same question to her. His eyes were paler, weaker. They lost the glint she had loved once. Now they were filled with hurt, pain and confusion. And she knew she had lost her soulmate forever.

“I didn’t do anything!” David held up both of his hands, gasping for breath in the tight grip of Ivan’s.

“Liar!” Ivan growled.

“No! He’s right. He didn’t do anything,” Y/N held up her hands. The entire forest darkened, the moonlight slipped away into the shadows, black smoke covering the snow white ground. Aleksander clutched his chest, his eyes clamping shut in pain.

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I did.” And I am sorry.

taglist: @milkbaer @swthxrry @tartiflvtte @keepdaydreamingbb @remugoodgirl @stargirl76 @kawaiimarshmallow @fultimefangirl @5hundreddaysofsummer @bookscoffeandotherstuff

i have no idea why i couldn’t tag two of you :(((( but do let me know how i can fix that

[roger-that-cap]

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader 

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park. 

yet another au by me... 

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened. 

  “S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand. 

  “What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.” 

 “Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

  “Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see. 

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife. 

  Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously�� irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms. 

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them. 

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it. 

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings. 

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea. 

 You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream. 

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch. 

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you. 

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom. 

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose. 

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.” 

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world. 

 But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt. 

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut. 

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime. 

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once.  He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.” 

  His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?” 

  “Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.” 

 Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand. 

“‘I’m Bucky.” 

  For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.” 

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back? 

 “She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her. 

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.” 

  Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” 

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.” 

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.” 

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-” 

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”  

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see. 

 “She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.” 

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.” 

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth. 

  “I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

  She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention. 

  “Wanda.” 

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face. 

  “You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.” 

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic,  and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock. 

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.” 

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand. 

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.” 

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie? 

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power. 

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.” 

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?” 

“I think she will,” Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.” 

 Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.” 

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different. 

 It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather. 

  It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand. 

 Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

  “That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.” 

  “I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?” 

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Are you into herbal healing?” 

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?” 

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.” 

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

  With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

 He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”  

You frowned. “What girl?” 

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.” 

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup. 

  There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes. 

  If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you. 

  You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck. 

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger. 

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was. 

She was silent. 

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second. 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?” 

 That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-” 

 “Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember. 

  “I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-” 

 She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin. 

  For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours. 

  You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it. 

   You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all. 

Wanda. 

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace. 

  “I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.” 

  The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you. 

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” 

  Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.” 

  “Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

   “A new life will do that to you.” 

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were. 

  She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.” 

[lilyofthestyx]

I saw request we’re open for RE8. Could I please have a fem! reader who tries to get rid of Ethan Winters because he keeps causing distress to her wife, Alcina? Please and thank you.

yes. yes you most certainly can have this.

i have been DYING to write about some alcina x fem!reader for the sole reason being that i have NEVER questioned my sexuality so hard since this damn game came out so yeah.

ps: wrote this in first person hope that's okay!

pps: there is some major plot deviation because.... i felt like it. idk. it fit??

DISCLAIMER: I do not claim to own Resident Evil or its characters or plot. CAPCOM please don't come for me.

here you go love >:)

word count: 1.57k

"Girls!" I call, closing the door behind me. "My darlings, I'm home!" Shifting the grip on the parcel of items from the village, I look around.

Usually one of the girls would've answered by now. Bela is usually here to greet me.

She's probably with her mother.

I shrug off my fur coat, handing it to one of the maids. She takes it and lays it over the back of a chair. I can tell by the large, gnarled scar on her forearm who she is "Marienna," I mumble, staring up the stairway. "...where're the girls?"

Marienna's face pales as she stares back at me. Her mouth opens and closes like a trout. "Well?" I snap, "D'you know where they are or-?!"

A crash resounds down the hallway. Alcina's voice tears from her bedroom, followed by a shuddering sob.

I'm hurrying up the stairs in seconds, abandoning the parcel. My body collides with the door- forcing it open.

Our bedroom is destroyed- the vanity broken to pieces. Alcina's soft hands cling to the golden wood, thumb rubbing against the varnish. Slowly, her eyes trail up to me. A smile nearly as broken as the vanity crosses her painted lips. "...I loved this damned mirror," she mumbles, eyes turning down to the broken pieces again.

"What happened, darling?" I coo, stepping over the pieces to stand beside her. My hand on her shoulder, I turn her face gently towards mine. Tears are streaming down her face- leaving jagged streaks of mascara. "Are you alright? What happen-"

Alcina's body tenses under my touch. Trembling, her grip tightens on the wood. It cracks before being wrenching in twain in her hands. "It was that stupid manthing!" She hisses, standing back up to her full height.

"...what 'manthing'?" I ask, "Your brother?"

Alcina ignores me, leaning back down to pluck one of the larger fragments before throwing it across the room. "He laid his filthy paws on our daughters!"

My mind races as it struggles to understand what the hell is happening.

Manthing.

It's not Heisenberg. He'd never lay a finger on the girls.

Some brutish village slug- that's got to be it.

But why? Why on earth would they...?

It doesn't matter.

As Alcina leans down to grab another bit, I grab her hand. "...are... are the girls okay? Where are they?"

A shuddering sigh passes her lips. "...they're all together," she whispers, wiping tears from her face hastily. "Bela... she was... that disgusting beast, he nearly killed her!"

"What?" I mutter, eyebrows drawing together as I step back. "...what... well is she okay? What happened? Is she going to be alright?!"

Alcina sighs again. "...she'll be alright," her hand wraps around mine gently. "Her sisters found her. Brought her to me."

"Where is she now?," I ask, tightening my grip around her finger. "My baby girl... where...?"

Alcina smiles warmly, getting down onto one knee. Her fingers brush back the hair from my eyes. Tears fall quickly down my face as I realize what could've happened if Cassandra and Daniela weren't nearby. "She's with her sisters," she answers gently. "Resting... waiting for her mother to get back with the flowers and silk from the village."

A cold laugh passes my lips before I sniffle. "...her mother should've been there. Should've never left."

Alcina's face tightens. "You can't blame yourself, darling," she mumbles, turning my chin up so I can face her. "No one knew this... Ethan Winters... would be so hideously vindictive."

I nod slowly, wiping the tears from my face. "...can I see her?"

"Of course, my love," she says, leaning in to press her lips to my cheek. "Of course."

The two of us walk down the halls to the center of the house. 'Safest place for her' Alcina had told me.

She had spoken to me the entire way over here, trying to get me out of my own head.

Bless my beloved wife for trying.

But that name. It just keeps buzzing around my mind.

Images of my hands, covered in thick blood, gripping the handle of a sickle play through my head. The blade going through the jugular of this 'Ethan Winters' and popping out the other side. Him desperate for air, choking on his own hot blood, as he watches me loom over him.

His last words will be for mercy.

His last view will be my blade.

My breath is bated as I watch him stalk through the darkness of the courtyard. In the moonlight, I can see is head is down, eyes wary as he keeps a fair grip on his pistol. The cool air lets me see him regulating his breathing- keeping him steady, keeping his pistol steady.

He's experienced.

My grip on my own weapon tightens as he stops in the gazebo. His eyes narrow as he turns around, his pistol raised. I watch in mild amusement as he whirls around, looking for something to shoot.

He's experienced, yes, but still not experienced enough.

I tug the fabric around my face higher along the bridge of my nose. Gripping my sickle, I balance on the balls of my feet.

Ethan finally relaxes, dropping his arms with his back to me.

A small smile creeps along my lips under the mask. A foolish move made by an even more foolish man.

My body slides underneath the stone railings for the stairs leading into the center of the courtyard. Untucking one of the smaller knives from my belt, I pinch it between two fingers and flick my wrist forward.

The knife goes flying- landing right between Ethan's shoulder blades. A guttural yell comes from him as he spins around to face me. In a blink, I'm up in front of him, nose brushing against his.

I can see the fear in his eyes.

I can't help my smile growing beneath the dark fabric.

Ethan raises his hand, pistol in his palm. With a tut of my lips, I shake my head and stab his hand through with my sickle. "...no, no," I mumble as he continues to scream and thrash against my hold. "There'll be none of that, I'm afraid, Mister Winters."

His teeth gritted, he hisses as my sickle is pulled from the inner part of his wrist. A bitter laugh bubbles up from my gut as he stumbles back onto the floor of the gazebo, now holding the pistol in his shaky left hand. "You can't be serious!" I giggle as Ethan pulls the trigger.

A wet squelch hits my ears as the bullet tears into my stomach. I sigh dramatically, looking down at the gushing hole in my dress. "You didn't think I was human- did you?" I ask, twirling the sickle in my hand.

"Wh- what?" Ethan mutters, eyes fixated on the bullet wound in my torso.

"I'm not," I continue, stepping closer to him as he tries to back away. Another gunshot echoes through the courtyard- the bullet landing in my left shoulder. "Not entirely, anyways."

"What the hell are you?!" Ethan yells, firing three more shots. One in the crook of my neck, one just barely grazing my temple, one lodging itself in my hip.

My jaw tightens as I hurry forward, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him back into the center of the gazebo. "I!" I snap, grabbing him again and gripping his wrist. "I... am the mother of the girl you almost killed!"

I pull another knife out of my belt. Trailing it down his lips, I smile. "And the wife... to a woman scorned." With a single swing, the knife digs into the flesh of his palm and nails it to the gazebo.

Ethan yells in pain. As I step back, his other fist cracks across my face. I stumble back. Grabbing at my cheek, I chuckle darkly. "Oh, Ethan," I coo coyly, grabbing my sickle. "You really shouldn't have done that."

I swing and watch with what could only be described as 'glee' as the blade pierces his throat. Covered in blood, the blade glistens crimson in the pale moonlight. Ethan's choked pleas are drowned out by my laughter.

"Why?" is the only word able to leave his lips without being smothered in a gush of blood.

"Because, Mister Winters," I hum, my nose brushing against his as I watch the life in his eyes flicker. "You should never have touched my family."

BONUS ENDING:

"What is that delicious smell?"

I turn around to see Alcina bending down to peek outside. A smile crosses my lips as I gesture to the mutilated corpse with the end of my sickle. "Dinner, my love," I hum, wiping off the blade with the fabric I had used for a mask. "Sorry it's not the cleanest."

Alcina scoffs and waves me off. "It's fine, _________. I'll just go let the girls know their mother brought dinner...," she pauses, eyes flicking over the gushing body. "...who was that? He smells... familiar."

"Just Ethan Winters," I answer nonchalantly.

"...y-you..." Alcina stammers, eyebrows weaving together and lips pursing. "You... when did you-?"

"He must've been tired," I continue with a small smile. "He was not nearly as difficult a kill as I thought he'd be."

"...I'll... I'll be going now."

"Okay, love," I chirp, "I'll drag him in in a second. Love you!"

Alcina's eyes are still wide, mouth slightly agape as she steps away from the doorway. "...love you too... darling."

can you tell i had a lot of fun with this?

yeah. because i did.

i hope you enjoyed! writing lady d is so much freaking fun i kid you not.

big vampy lady make brain go brr

[husbandohunter]

Hello may I request albedo x shy reader where albedo and reader has feelings for each other but reader is too introverted to do anything and albedo doesn't want to tell as he thinks he scares her as reader always gets red and is stuttering when he talks to her. Klee finds out about this and makes it her mission to get albedo and reader together.

Klee gets albedo to play hide and seek with her and invites reader to play together with her. Albedo is counting down while klee and reader hides. Klee and reader hides in a location that klee always hides in so albedo would find them quickly. While they're hiding where albedo is within hearing distance, klee ask reader about whether she has feelings for albedo or not. Reader then admits to having feelings for albedo and makes klee promise not to to tell him. Albedo having heard all this comes behind reader and says why not, proceeds to bring reader to a private location and tells reader his feelings.

If this is too detailed a shy reader x albedo headcanon is enough.

I Found You [Albedo x Shy!Reader]

Synopsis: For someone as meek and reserved as you, love with Albedo was a game of hide and seek...literally!

Genres: Fluff

(A/n): Ahhh what a cute idea, don’t be afraid to be detailed at all! I love hearing people’s ideas. Buuut kinda went overboard with this one since I am in the narrative mood, hope you don’t mind >//< Word count_2.3k

----------------------------------

Albedo wonders if he had done something wrong?

Three weeks, four days, sixteen minutes and twenty five seconds. To this moment he had counted down every tick of the clock since the day you began avoiding him. That's how he sees it at least. You weren't always deliberately doing this on purpose, as Lisa's personal helper, there were times when you were given a chance to converse with the Chief Alchemist after dropping off the books he requested for research purposes. Albedo would ask how your day went, trying to find out if you wanted to take a short break and drink some of the tea Noelle had prepared for him. Your response was a modest one but he didn't mind, he eventually came to enjoy your tranquil prescence after a long day of work. 

But something changed. Those moments where you came in during your free time have gradually faded to nothing more than swift bows and small greets coming from the door. Every attempt he made to invite you for another tea session you left as quickly as you entered. At first he dismissed these moments, thinking that you were probably too busy with no time to stop by. Albedo was a busy person himself, though, that didn't prevent him from noticing your odd behaviour whenever he saw you in the hallway. Just as he was about to call your name, you avert your eyes and take a sharp turn until you were out of sight, leaving him perplexed and alone. The alchemist couldn't help feel neglected. Compared to everyone else, he was the only one you couldn't approach with ease. It bothered him immensely.

Did he accidentally say something to upset you? Albedo was well aware of his straightforward attitude which might have caused a negative affect on your contrasting, rather delicate personality. But he always felt that he had taken great consideration on how to approach you. Or what if it was the time when he happened to eat the last bite of Noelle's shortcakes? Remembering the afternoon you sat in his office, he recalls that there were exactly five instead of four treats left on the plate. Little by little, they began to disappear, you only ate two while he devoured three. Was this the reason why? No, that can't be it. You were the one who offered and refusing would only be impolite. Unless you felt pressured to do so when he told you that he was very fond of sweets….

Albedo heaves his shoulders and lets out a breathly sigh. He became very melancholy since then, staring out the window from the second floor when there were still unread research reports lying on his desk. His mind was so cluttered that he couldn't bring himself to focus these days. How troublesome. If only he were more adept with the ways of socializing, only then he can figure out what triggers you to be so nervous around him, why you tend to shrink when he gazes into your eyes and how is it that he feels so bitter when seeing you act the complete opposite with someone else.

"Big brother?" asked Klee. She hops off her stool before throwing the box of crayons to the side. The young girl prances her way to where Albedo stood and tugs on the hem of his coat, "Is there something wrong? Why are you sad?"

"Klee," Albedo turns his head in reponse. A pair of oversized cherry orbs looks at him with concern while the girl's bangs falls sideways to frame her petite face. He felt the white fabric crinkling within her grip as she signals him to come down. Placing one knee on the floor, Albedo gently smiled, speaking in his soft and brotherly tone, "Don't worry, I'm fine. Have you finished your drawing?"

"Mhm, almost done!" She throws her hands up and cheers, "But can you help me with the backgrounds? Klee doesn't know how to colour them."

"I don't see why not," agreed the alchemist, "Come, I'll teach you."

Just when Albedo was leading Klee back to the little space he set up for her, a knock was heard on the door. He ushers her to stay put and Klee tries to peer over his shoulder to see who the visitor was. When she recognized you standing at the frame, her smile grew wide in excitement.

It's big sister (Y/n)! Did she come here to play with us too? Oh please please please!

"(Y/n), you're here," Albedo couldn't help the apparent surprise on his face, "What brings you? Is there something I can help you with?"

"Ah sorry to bother, I-I have the documents you requested from the library!" You nervously handed him the folder.

Huh? Klee brings a finger to her chin, That's wierd...Why does she look so scared?

"Thank you (Y/n)," Albedo slips them out of your trembling grasp in the same fashion he would handle old relics on the verge of breaking. It was so long since you last visited him and he didn't want to startle you, "I appreciate you for bringing them here."

You shook your head in response, "It's nothing much…"

There it was again. You were avoiding to look at him in the eye. At this rate the next thing to occur would be you taking your leave and he didn't want that. Not when he finally gets the chance to fix his mistakes. Using his calculative mind, Albedo tries to formulate the best approach to soothe your worries. He thought of the first step, something that would make you more comfortable. Perhaps he could try smiling? Yes, that could do it. They always seem to have positive affects.

"(Y/n)."

He calls you. The sound of your name on his lips brings you out of your frenzy state and you subconciously lifted your gaze, daring to take a small peek over his countenance. 

"I'm very glad to see you again, truly."

Oh!

You froze into place. Your brain stops working and the whole world comes to a halt. It was the sight held in front of you that stole every last breath away leaving you with nothing but butterflies fluttering about. They spread their wings, voraciously swarming from the pit of your stomach, desperate to burst along with the pounding of your heart. Never in your life have you witnessed or even fathomed the idea of how Albedo would look if he smiled but here you were, mesmerized and captivated like a butterfly entranced by the flower's glow.  It blooms. So brilliantly that you couldn't stop yourself from being drawn. Eyes you fought so hard to tear away from, sparkled just for you, crinkling from the impact of his evergrowing smile. It was the feeling that made you fall for him. The same feeling that pushes you to run somewhere far far away, knowing if you flew too close, the outcome would risk everything you were trying to protect. 

"(Y/n)?" The alchemist tilts his head in confusion. He noticed the redness seeping into your features and immediately brings a glove hand to press against your forehead, "Your temperature is rising. Are you feeling sick? You should have told me earlier."

"I can't…" 

"Hm? Why not?"

"Ah I just remembered there's something I need to do!" Taking a step back you gave him a stiff bow, "Good luck in your research Sir Albedo!"

Given no chance to reply, Albedo watched you dash away before disappearing around the corners. He could only stare blankly at the empty space in front of him before dropping his arm back to his side, contemplating; where did I go wrong?

"Does that mean (Y/n) doesn't want to play with us?" Klee said dissapointedly.

"…I suppose."

"Big brother?" Upon hearing Albedo sigh, Klee finally figured out what caused him to falter these days. Perhaps not entirely being the small child she was but there were enough clues to let her know that the relationship between you and Albedo was somewhat strained. To Klee, she saw you both as the bestest friends! And it was only natural that friends play together right?

----------------------------

"Eh? You want me to play hide and seek?"

The Spark knight nods heavily as she grinned up at you, "Uh huh, and with big brother!"

"Klee, don't force her if she doesn't want to, it'll be fine with just the two of us," Albedo scolded lightly and folds his arms over his chest.

She only returns him a pout, "But it's fun with more people!"

"Klee-"

"It's okay Sir Albedo, I don't mind," you chimed in at last. You were just taking a stroll near Starfell Lake after you finished organizing the bookshelves in Lisa's stead (as always, she naps while you worked away). All of a sudden, Klee waves over from the otherside and proceeds to drag you into a friendly game for little kids. You weren't sure why she seemed so desperate but…

"Yay!" While jumping side to side, the girl did a little mini dance while waving her arms in the air, "You're the best (Y/n)!"

It was hard to refuse someone as cute as Klee.

"So for the first round, big brother is going to be the one who counts to twenty while you and I go hide so he can never ever find us," Klee informs enthusiastically. 

"Alright, that shouldn't be a problem," said Albedo.

You followed suit with a giggle, "But considering it's you Albedo, I don't think twenty seconds is enough."

He quirks an eyebrow, shocked from the way you referred to him.

"Ah, I-"

"Let's go!" Klee interrupts which you were thankful for, "And no peeking!"

Turning to face the Statue of Seven, Albedo counts down monotonously while you and Klee scrambled for an ideal hiding place. This was not the first time you indulged in one of her many activities, in the past it had almost become part of your daily routine to assist the alchemist in entertaining his little sister. Even Klee was capable to be the seeker for several rounds and Albedo would lead you to a spot nearby yet discreet, just the right amount of difficulty for her to handle.

He wouldn't think of this area again, would he?"

"Six...five...four..."

Eeek! Better hide.

You hopped into the crevice formed between the mountain rocks and crouched down, huddling your knees together against your chest to blend with the shadows. You let out a soft sigh, pleased that you were able to make it in time.

"Wow big sis, I didn't know you would be here too."

The screech nearly escapes when you were startled by a pair of ruby eyes gleaming at you innocently. Klee signals you to stay quiet and you nodded, bringing down the hand that you used to cover your mouth. From a distance you spotted the chief alchemist shifting his footsteps against the grass, though he was far enough on the otherside to not notice you and Klee together in the same room. You beamed softly. He was purposely holding back.

"Pssst! Big sis?" Klee whisper-shouted, "Are you angry at big brother?"

You returned a curious glance, slightly taken aback by the outlandish statement she made, "No of course not. How could I?"

(If anything, it was the contrary).

"Then why are you always running away from him? You guys used to be really good friends, Klee misses you and big brother misses you that's why...that's why he's always sad when you're gone.

"Oh...I-I had no idea..." feelings of guilt begin to emerge when you realized what your action seemed from a different prespective. You were so caught up with being cautious that it prevented you from seeing how Albedo would react on the recieving end. Without knowing, your true colours began to reveal themselves as you could no longer stand the thought of making Klee (making him) upset, "I'm sorry, I'm just not good with words."

The little girl cocks her head to the side.

"Ever since I was little, I never found it easy to make friends. Until now when I finally became Lisa's assistance, I still can't approach other people and they tend to shy away from me since I am...difficult to hold a conversation with..."

Hugging your knees even closer, a fond expression graces your features, "But Albedo was kind to me. He was patient when I didn't know what to say. Whenever I made a mistake, he would always be there to teach me the correct steps. I have alot to thank him for."

"Huh...?"

"I think it's also on of the reason why I fell for him too. But I will never have the courage to say it. I don't want to ruin the friendship we have so I chose to keep it to myself. Though, I guess it only made things worse. So promise me that you won't say anything okay? I'll apologize to him later."

Klee did not respond. She only stares past your shoulder and you immediately spun around to see Albedo standing at the entrace with an expression equivalently shocked as yours.

"(Y/n)...."

"I...I-" you stammered. The embarassment was so unbearable to the point that tears began to form at the corner of your eyes.

"Wait, don't cry. There's no need to because-"

You thrusted your way past him before he could finish his sentence, sprinting to the distance while yelling, "I'M SORRRYYYYYYYYYYY!"

"Wait!" The alchemist chases shortly after, "Come back!"

--------------------------------------------------

You groaned at the pain throbbing against your skull as you pushed yourself upright. A fallen branch, it was. One you didn't catch before tripping over your steps and tumbling down the hill while landing harshly on the sensitive pad of your elbow. The surroundings seemed unfamiliar to your memory since you never travelled too far from Mondstadt, your vision was filled with nothing but the endless columns of trees and bushes nearby. There were no signs of anyone else within the area.

"I'm lost," you announced in a defeated tone. Something cold taps against the tip of your nose and you realized that the clouds have already gathered over your head, violently spilling the rain down to where you sat. You crawled to a dry space where the tree branches were thick enough to keep the water out. You stayed there, waiting. But waiting for what?

"I can't go back," you meekly say, "I can't see him."

The air was cold and you shiver in response. You hated how much of a coward you could be sometimes. You were always so weak, never having the strength to be courageous for once. Albedo was a beautiful man, he was smart and he was popular, he was everything you're not. There's no way that he'd return your feelings.

However...

"I found you."

Why did he come back?

"Thank goodness you're alright. Are you hurt?" Albedo lowers himself to meet your level. Up close you could see the strands sticking from the side of his golden head and the residues that marred his features. Still, he looked beautiful. Your heart soars from the intense gaze he kept on you, drawing lower until he caught the scrape at the side of your arm. Albedo pulls it forward so that he could examine them at nearer proximity, "Hmm this doesn't look so good. We should head back so I can treat your wounds immediately. Can you stand?"

You nodded. 

"Good. Here, take my hand," he offers his gloved fingers and pulls you up to your feet. You could tell that he was trying to be gentle from the way he adjusted his stance so you wouldn't wobble. Kind. He was so kind.

"Why did you come for me?" You started, "I don't understand."

Albedo frowned. There it was again, the expression he hated. The one where you wouldn't look at him in the eye.

"I just don't want to-"

He didn't even bother with what you wanted to tell him. Instead, Albedo removes his coat almost within an instead and threw it around your shoulders. He wraps you gently, making sure that the rain didn't touch your bare shoulders before bring his arms around your figure and trapping you in his embrace. You could feel his fingers raking against the strands of your hair as your vision was blocked by the star on his neck. A little voice thanked the archons for this particular position, for two reasons in fact. The first being that he wouldn't be able to see your expression, knowing you must've looked as if you ate a bowl of raw Juyeun chilis. The second reason, well, you were simply overjoyed. 

"Do you understand now?" 

Closing your eyes, you succumbed to the grasp of your beloved, "Yes, I do."

"You won't run away?"

His tone was almost a plead. You reassured him by moving your head to the crook of his neck, how foolish for you to assume all this time, "I won't, don't worry."

"Are you sure?"

"I promise."

"Good," Albedo's eyes soften in response as he pulls alway to see your face, "I love you too (Y/n)."

Alas the butterfly and the flower finally united as one. Like nectar, he was sweet. How bold of him. It seems that not only was he able to steal your heart but your first kiss as well.

[amjustagirl]

Broken Compass Outtakes - Wedding

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x f! reader  genre: fluff! wc: 655  warnings: tooth rotting fluff!

Sakusa Kiyoomi usually works until he gets what he wants.

But that logic doesn’t seem to apply, even on his own wedding day when all he wants is to see his lovely fiancee before she walks down the aisle to him, because for some reason, all her bridesmaids (including one very harried Miya Kaiyo who stormed past him, hissing something about needing to steam the flower girl’s dress again - he surmises that Atsumu didn’t do that fantastic a job of keeping his daughter still, then) seem to be conspiring to keep him apart from his lovely soon-to-be bride.

He just wants to see her. It’s not that big of an ask.

Motoya is utterly useless when he solicits his help, his cousin’s eyes crinkling in that absolutely irritating way that for some reasons all the v-league fans go crazy over as he pats his back and amiably suggests he just wait for his bride at the end of the aisle, like most grooms. Atsumu has his hands with Shino running off to play a game of tag with Makoto, Shoma still strapped and gurgling to his chest. And if he resorts to asking Bokuto and Hinata, he’s not sure if the venue will remain standing after whatever deranged antics they might choose to pull.

Meian on the other hand – yes, dependable, sturdy, trustworthy Meian Shugo, ex-captain of the Jackals who has a soft spot for romance might just work. And he does, spinning stories to the bridesmaids about the florist somehow using the wrong colours that makes them all flee her side with the promise of stern retribution on their faces that the hapless florist does not deserve (he’ll tip her double later for her troubles), allowing him to slip into her room like a shadow, mouth immediately drying when he catches his first glimpse of her in her white gown that reminds him of snowflakes falling from the sky –

“Omi?” A confused flutter of lashes, wings taking flight. “You’re not here to tell me you’re leaving me at the altar, are you?”

“Gods, no”, he recoils, almost snarling in indignation at the thought because he isn’t Iwaizumi Hajime, who doesn’t appreciate her worth. “I just wanted to see you”, he blurts out, a little mortified at how desperate he’s acting, so different from his usual cool, collected self. “I know it’s supposed to be bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding but I just – I just wanted to see you - ”

Warm hands cup cold cheeks.

“I’m here”, she says, with a smile softer than the petals of the blossoms in her brow. “Kiyoomi, I’m here.”

“You’re here”, he echoes, trembling hands over hers. She understands what he says without the need for much explanation.

(if my heart were a compass, it’s broken. it’d always point towards you)

The clock strikes twelve. “Will you help me with my veil?”

His hands are shaking as he lifts the delicate netting, pinning it carefully to the dark waves of her hair. He straightens the creases with damp palms, and with the air of a child seeing snow for the very first time, watches in awe as it falls over her face.

“Thank you”, she smiles. Peach blossoms bursting through snow – the beginning of spring.

“Thank you”, he answers, with a rare smile of his own that’s becoming more common by the day.

He treasures their words, both spoken and unspoken, promises to be made, never broken. He’s not leaving her – not for anything, and she’s here, about to slip a silver ring on her fourth finger because she loves him. This is the grace that the universe has granted to him, to them, this is the treasure that he will protect to the end of his days.

“Are you ready, Kiyoomi?”

Her hand is warm and steady in his.

“Always.”

m.list~ taglist.~

a/n: you can find the original longfic broken compass here!

[dracowars]

Hi could you write something where the reader is on the place of Hermione on the manor during DH1. And Narcissa sees her memories and finds out she's with Draco and how happy he looks with her. Happy ending please🥺 also Hufflepuff reader

daffodil | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

word count: 2,3k

summary: where narcissa is y/n's last hope

a/n: rip helen mccrory <3

warnings: angst, torture, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

Trying to suppress your tears, you have to helplessly watch as your close friends Harry, Ron and Hermione are pushed away from the large, dark room to the basement, leaving you alone. Not actually alone, but in the sense of everyone who remains in this room now, will not help you out of here. It all began so well and was going smoothly.

Your plan was almost perfect, it should not have failed. Nevertheless, you were caught by Death Eaters and taken to Malfoy Manor, the mansion of the Malfoy family, which ironically also includes your boyfriend. Draco, of course, did not know about your plan, otherwise he might have accidentally given something away. You wanted to tell him, but you could not bring yourself to do it. You did not want to disappoint your friends and risk your plan. Anyway, it seems like Draco does not know what his own family is up to either.

“So, you are the pathetic little Hufflepuff girl who sniffed around in my dungeon in Gringotts and stole, huh?”, Bellatrix directs her sharp words at you after she made sure that her sister safely locked your friends in the cellar. “Speak!”

“I do not know what you are talking about”, you lie to her, your whole body visibly shaking in fear. You have heard numerous stories about Bellatrix Lestrange, and one was worse than the other. She is merciless and will not stop until she gets what she wants and that is exactly why you are not quite sure yourself why you suddenly have the audacity to lie directly into her face in this moment when it is obvious that you definitely know what she is talking about.

“Do not lie to me, you cheeky brat! How did you get my sword!?”, she furiously screams at you all of a sudden, anger in her eyes, making you shrink back a little. With her crazy sparkling eyes, she takes another step towards you until you retreated so far back against the wall that you have no way out, no way to escape her.

Before you can answer, however, you already feel the tip of her wand against your throat and you have to swallow hard as she drills it deeper, an insane smile on her pale lips.

“Well, if you do not want to speak, I will gladly force you to speak”, she giggles wickedly and before you know it, she harshly grabs you by the arm and forces you onto the cold wooden floor. You can intercept your fall with your hands in the last moment. Scared, you turn around to face her, your gaze falling on Narcissa, who watches the scene unfold in front of her without a word, just like her husband.

Nobody in Draco’s family knows about your relationship and so far, it has always been better that way. Even so, you do not come around wondering what if they did know about it right now. What if his mother knew about your undying love for each other? What if you would tell her right here, right now that you were the one who was always on her son’s side when he felt bad, that you cheered him up in his darkest times and supported him when no one else did. You were with him after he was declared a Death Eater and you were there when he decided against murdering your headmaster. You were there for him all this time when his family was not.

You can’t continue your thoughts when Bellatrix suddenly kicks you in the abdomen and you softly groan in pain, curling up on the floor.

“I will not ask you a second time: Where did you get the Gryffindor sword from?”, Bellatrix interrogates you again and harshly turns you on your back with her foot, using all her strength to prevent you from moving. Slowly she makes it hard for you to breathe and you desperately try to free yourself from her grip – without any success.

Since you still have not answered her question, she ends up pointing her wand at you threateningly again and before you even have the chance to admit anything, she puts an unforgivable curse on you.

“Crucio!”

Your body writhes in pain on the floor, screams escaping your mouth louder and stronger every second. You try to defy the curse, but you are too weak and can’t defend yourself, having to suffer the worst pain you have ever felt in your entire life.

And despite all of this, your thoughts go back to Draco. His smiling face appears in your mind and his gentle laughter echoes in your ears.

“D-Draco”, you gasp in pain and suddenly all of the pain disappears at once. Bellatrix has now lowered her wand and looks at you in confusion. But not only does she, but Draco’s parents as well.

“I did not ask about Draco!”, Bellatrix freaks out again in a matter of seconds and finally crawls over your weakened body, your faces so close to each other that you can feel her breath on your skin. “You have played enough games.”

At her words, you feel this unendurable pain again, but this time it feels different. It does not come from within you, you can still feel your body as a whole, and it feels a lot more realistic until you suddenly feel her rip open your arm with a sharp dagger inch by inch. Screeching in pain, you try to throw her off you, but she presses you onto the hard ground with all of her might and strength.

Exhausted, your head falls to one side, your body twitching at every painful touch on your arm. Tears flow down your already damp cheeks and you look at Draco’s mother through your blurry vision. She has averted her gaze from the terrible scenario.

“D-Draco.. I-“, you stutter out, the feeling of weightlessness from being on the verge of passing out obfuscating your words and thoughts. Still, you know that there is only one last chance that may get you out of here alive, even though you may regret it in the end.

“I love him”, you cry out in a heartbreaking voice which Bellatrix does not seem to mind at all. Narcissa, however, lifts her head in an instant and looks directly at you, her eyes full of sadness as far as you can tell by your restricted vision. Your eyelids are getting heavier by the second and just when you are about to pass out completely, you notice how Narcissa finally comes closer and thus puts an abrupt end to your unbearable pain.

“Legilmens”, her soft broken voice whispers and the world around you begins to spin, to transform.

And suddenly you are peacefully lying in a bed that is all too familiar to you, your gaze focused on the door that is opening at this very moment, revealing none other than Draco himself. You feel strange, weird, as if you have experienced all of this before. As soon as Draco enters the room with his head hanging low, you uncontrollably run into his arms. You speak to him with calming words until everything starts blurring in front of your eyes and you find yourself in a different place.

You are in a flooded bathroom, a slim and fragile figure trembling from crying from the bitter sobs at the sink in front of you.

“Draco”, you hear your own voice softly speak up and he jolts, turning around to you, his eyes red and swollen, his face completely dejected. Not another second goes by and you lie in his arms again, comforting him.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. It hurts so much”, Draco’s echoing sobs ring in your ear as he rolls up the sleeve of his white shirt, revealing the Dark Mark. “Please help me.”

However, you are not able to help him because you are forcibly torn away from the moment again and land in a large, wide meadow of flowers. Warmth created by the burning sunlight flows through you and the exclamation of your name from the distance brings a happy smile to your face immediately. Not far from you Draco runs up the hill towards you, a smile as bright and wide as yours decorating his beautiful facial features. Quickly, you get up from the soft picnic blanket that you have placed in the meadow and greet him with a firm hug.

The next moment, you lie on the blanket, hugging and looking up at the clear starry sky after the sun has already set hours ago. Draco repeatedly points to different shining stars which form a constellation, telling you everything he learned in astronomy, while you can’t take your eyes off him.

When he finally notices your gaze, he turns his head towards you so that the tips of your nose are almost touching. Neither of you say a word and you just stare into each other’s eyes lovingly.

“I love you”, your voice carefully confesses and your heart hammers against your chest.

“I love you too”, Draco replies, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss.

The safe and happy feeling suddenly gets teared away from you and you find yourself back in the dark room of the Malfoy Manor. Shocked and not so sure about what has just happened, you straighten up. Only now do you realize that Bellatrix had let go of you in the meantime and is now looking down at you with widened eyes, standing closely behind her sister.

It hits you like a train when you realize that Narcissa has just used Legilimency on you, which caused you to be subjected to a rapid succession of passing memory scenes and in some cases even made you briefly lose consciousness. Thus, not only your expressed thoughts or perceptible feelings were revealed to her, but also your hidden feelings and experiences as well as your most secret desires.

An extremely uncomfortable silence arises in the room while all eyes are on you and only you. Lucius and Bellatrix seem rather angry at something, with Narcissa looking at you with pity and sadness.

“Take my hand”, Narcissa breaks the silence first, but because of her words you only look at her in confusion when she extends her hand to you. Looking back and forth between her outstretched hand and her face, for some inexplicable reason, you realize that she actually wants to help you.

As soon as your hands touch, everything around you blurs again and the next thing you know everything goes black. You feel pressure on your body from all directions and you find it difficult to breathe until everything around you takes on its usual color again, allowing you to breathe in deeply.

You feel the ground beneath your feet and notice that you are standing upright. And you notice that your and Narcissa’s hand are still connected. Startled, you pull your hand out of her grasp and look around.

“Where did you take me?!”, you angrily ask her, the place where you are now not seeming familiar to you and the fact that she just kidnapped you after invading your privacy makes you feel even more confused.

“To safety”, Narcissa replies shortly and it seems she wants to add something when her gaze suddenly slides past you, to something hat has now apparently appeared behind you.

“Mum?”

“Draco?”, you breathe out in relief when you hear his voice behind you and immediately turn around to him. Tears well up in your eyes and you run into Draco’s arms at lightning speed, but Draco seems to be quite perplexed. After all, he does not know what happened.

“W-What?”, he tries to form meaningful words while still not returning your hug, standing there rigid and tense.

“She knows about us”, you whisper in his ear while sobbing and his posture relaxes from one second to the other and he wraps his arms tightly around your trembling body without hesitation, his face disappearing in the crook of your neck.

“What happened?”, Draco asks you worried as he gently loosens the hug and takes your face between in his hands, not understanding why you are crying. With a shake of your head, you indicate that you do not want to talk about it and he understands, giving you the space you need, before his gaze falls back on his mother, who is watching you two silently.

“I am sorry”, Narcissa finally clears her throat, causing you to look at her as well. Tears have now also formed in her eyes, but her lips are adorned by a gentle smile as she looks at you. “It should never have come to this.”

“Why did you do that? Why did you help me?”, you want to know and step closer to her, your hand intertwined with Draco’s.

“I was inside of your head and saw all of your memories”, she explains and while she nervously plays with the long black sleeves of her beautiful dress, she looks up from the ground again. “I have seen how happy you make my son. I could not let them harm you or it would break him. You- You are too important to Draco.”

You are speechless at her words and Draco seems pretty stunned by what his mother said as well. Before either of you can comment on it though, she speaks up again.

“I will make sure that your friends get free”, she adds, letting her inner conflict reflect in her soft voice. “Stay with Draco. You are safe here until I have clarified everything. I will come back.”

“Mum-“

“I promise you that everything will be fine”, she gently smile at him, giving both of you a loving hug, before she disapparates into thin air and probably reappears where she has just saved your life moments ago.

[pasteljeon]

sincerely, yours (m)

summary: in which you return to an apartment full of 7 horny boyfriends.

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings: pining, dirty talk, heavy petting, sexual tension

length: 2.9k

notes: this is another blm commission written for the amazing @/himbeaux-joon. thank you so much for your support and donation! i hope you enjoy n forgive me for the wait.

.

.

.

“You’re fucked.”

You pull your phone away from your ear out of pure disbelief. Squinting at the screen, you’re assured you’re speaking to the right person when your friend’s name peers back at you.

“Sorry?” 

She said it so casually and offhandedly you do a double take. Your luggage rolls noisily behind you, a hefty and rather rickety thing, though you don’t quite have the heart to rid of it just yet. It has character, stickers and stamps collected from your various travels scattered on the cover. Some are fraying and others greying and half-peeled. Some are new, recently added to the collection and sparkle almost obnoxiously next to your dying ones.

“You are so fucked,” she laughs. It’s less of a laugh and more of a cackle. You check your phone again. Still her.

“Are you going to elaborate on that?” You say dryly as you finally wheel yourself out of customs. The last month has been hectic, your job and position requiring you to fly overseas for the past three weeks. You would think your boys would have been used to the asynchronistic nature of your schedules considering how busy they usually are, but they did finish the last leg of their tour just as you left. Your company offered another two weeks of paid vacation is a thank-you for the generous contract you just signed. Your boys protested and pouted but you took it, adamant about finally taking that much needed break.

They reluctantly let you go, faking tears but understanding, their jobs equally as, if not more, stressful.

“Nope.” She pops the p with some dark sense of satisfaction, and you repress the shiver that crawls down your spine. “But I can say it’s a good type of fucking. You know, the one where you bend Jungkook over the—”

“Okay, got it, thank you,” you cut her off hastily, holding a hand over the speaker to muffle her voice that rises into a sing-song, glancing around discreetly to ensure no one’s eavesdropped over your rather scandalous conversation.

“You ever notice how whiny your boys can get when you’re away?” She teases when you return to the line. Rummaging in your purse for some change, you scan the airport café for some iced coffee, chuckling, “Yes. You have no idea.”

“You know all the boys have a chat exclusive for their very not safe for work thoughts?” she tells you. It makes you choke and laugh simultaneously, the cashier eyeing you strangely as he takes your order.

“I don’t know how they make it sounds so hot,” your friend continues blandly. “Normally it sounds so greasy. But they’re usually so well-behaved and polite. I was so shocked. I had no idea that Jimin liked—”

You yelp, staring down at your shirt. Luckily, it’s dark enough to hide the stain, so you mop it up sheepishly, thanking the server who offers you some napkins, clucking sympathetically.

“What?” You hissed, pulling to the side. You’re whisper-shouting into your phone now. “They did what?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Didn’t Rhys tell you? He was rolling all over about it,” she snickers. You splutter. Rhys is a close friend to the both of you, and often spent nights gaming with Jungkook and Taehyung. You knew your boys had a group chat with your other male friends but … “But they’re usually so polite,” you exclaim.

Your friend clicks her tongue. “Cue exhibit A. Anyway, good luck girl. You’re gonna need it.” Without waiting for your reply, she ends the call, her cackles cutting off into an odd ringing in your ear.

“Oh dear,” you say to yourself, staring down at your drink. “What am I walking into?”

.

.

.

Your friend’s call is lousy warning, if you’re going to be honest.

Only the maknaes are able to pick you up from the airport, with the remainder of the boys caught up in the photoshoot. They were able to wrap up before your flight landed.

They’re a ball of hazed energy. Dressed casually, face masked and caps donned, they somehow manage to blend in with the crowd of receivers. Your breath catches. In the short time away, you’ve forgotten just how little justice pictures and videos do for them. They’re beautiful.

They watch you like hawks, glazed eyes dark and you’re genuinely a little concerned for Taehyung. The outline of his length presses insistently against his black slacks, but he pays no attention, half-lidded as he peers at you through thick lashes. You’re shocked no one’s carded him for public indecency yet. The image alone is enough to make your core to clench.

There’s no fanfare, no glee, no innocent excitement, no cheerful, “noona!” you expected from the youngest. Instead, Jungkook silently reaches over to relieve you of your luggage, fingers grazing your palm. He pulls down his mask to kiss the corner of your mouth. He visibly tears himself away, and you can see the way his veins pop under the pressure, jaw clenching hard. Electricity sparks down your spine, making you shiver.

“Heart. Welcome back,” Taehyung rumbles as he tips your chin up. His voice is more of a growl, the sound reverberates from his chest, low and incredibly sexy it makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

“I missed you,” Jimin pushes his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. He catches your hand when you reach for him, steadying your shaky knees. You clutch at the sleeve of his turtleneck, his palm cupping the back of your head as his nose skims the column of your throat.

“G-guys, we’re in public,” you manage in a faint whisper, and Jimin’s grip tightens briefly before he reluctantly pulls away. Jungkook takes your other hand, Taehyung leading the way to the car.

They brush your concern off easily, not even bothering to scan their surroundings in case anyone’s recognized them. You do a cursory sweep anyway, but find the airport still relatively empty, the crowd occupied with their own arrivals. Suddenly, you’re once again struck with a profound sense of appreciation for Namjoon’s forever careful scheduling of your flights so this could be possible.

The underground parking lot is quiet, and you exchange no words as Jungkook’s Mercedes comes into view.

The sexual tension is, as they say, palpable.

You move to follow Jimin into the backseat, but Jungkook grabs your wrist, twirling you around. The cool metal meets your heated skin for a brief moment before he pulls you close. “Noona,” he murmurs, bringing your arm to his lips. He fastens his mouth over your pulse point, suckling gently. His lashes tickle your inner wrist.

“Jungkook,” you say breathily, his leg coming to push your thighs apart. You nearly collapse onto him, and he releases you with an agonized sigh. The mark blooms darkly, and he lets out a long exhale.

“Gguk.” There’s a warning in his tone.

“I know,” the maknae bites back. He lets you down slowly, hungry gaze raking over your form one last time before he lets Taehyung help you into the car.

He walks to the driver’s side, forehead pressing against the hood fleetingly before sliding into the seat. It does nothing to settle the heat stirring in his stomach. He can’t bring himself to regret it, though, despite the way his pants dig into his hard cock.

Just a little longer. His fingers grip the wheel tightly, knuckles whitening as he pulls out of the lot.

.

.

.

They can hardly keep their hands off of you, glued to your side the entirety of the ride back.

Jungkook wants to scream out of pure frustration. He can hardly concentrate, though it is the crack of dawn and traffic is sparse.

He can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick sounds of your makeout sessions. He resists the urge to check the rear-view mirror for the nth time. He knows one glance is enough to make his thighs clench.

He hears your soft, melodic sighs between kisses, lips likely beautifully swollen and plump from their coaxing. He knows that Taehyung is sweet, and that Jimin is eager, a little rough. It's downright pornographic. His eye twitches.

“Mmm, Chim,” you mewl.

That's it. He growls. “Guys, knock it off. Otherwise we’re taking her in the back of my car.”

“Wouldn't be such a bad idea,” Taehyung murmurs, and Jungkook risks a glimpse, only to see Taehyung mouthing at your neck, one hand down your pants. You're a vision, sprawled on Jimin's lap, head tossed back against his neck. Back arched, shirt halfway unbuttoned, bra peeking out and hair disheveled.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook barks. He’s a second away from breaking the wheel. Red light. He watches Taehyung suck a blooming flower against your neckline. He pulls away reluctantly to admire it.

“It's fine,” Jimin pipes up, and Jungkook swears he pops a vessel with the way the older slides a hand up to cup your breast, thumbing your peaks from under the silken material. “We're here.”

The maknae parks the car hastily, all too relieved to be home. He practically yanks the hinges off the passenger door open. Jimin groans, almost falling flat on his ass at the sudden momentum. “Jeon!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, stepping aside for Jimin to step out. Jungkook catches you, stumbling with trembling legs and poorly adjusted shirt. He sweeps you into his arms without another thought, moving briskly towards the entrance. His strength makes you squirm in his hold, clutching his tensed bicep.

“Smell so good,” he groans, and he has to pause at the door, letting you down only to pin you against the glass, kissing you hard.

“Taste so good,” he pants, unable to stop himself from grinding against you. He wants you close, craves you. Your hands snake under his shirt, pushing it up impatiently to flatten your palm against his toned stomach, the other fumbling with his belt.

The sound of the leather and metal coming undone makes him hiss, hips jerking. “Sensitive baby,” you murmur teasingly, fingers digging into his v-line. Jungkook’s breath stutters, cock throbbing unwittingly.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” he moans, slumping onto you as you give his clothed length a tentative squeeze. He’s so incredibly hard it’s painful. The blood rushing to his dick is making him dizzy, a little breathless.

Before you can reply, the door is abruptly wrenched open. You gasp, Jungkook nearly toppling over, but he braces you under his arm, catching you easily.

“Told you he wouldn’t make it in before he succumbed.” You look up to see Hoseok gazing down at you with those strong brows of his, studying you with an intensity that has your body flushing with heat again. Even upside down he’s gorgeous beyond reason.

Jungkook flips you back up, and Hoseok’s lips quirk when he catches you floundering.

“Bet he came in his pants.” Namjoon walks forward, hands in his pockets and his tone is casual, like he’s discussing the menu from your favourite diner.

“Colour me shocked the neighbours haven’t carded the two of you for public indecency,” Yoongi drawls, smirking when Jungkook blushes darkly.

“I’m going to develop abandonment issues if you keep forgetting about us like that.” Jungkook rubs his neck, embarrassed, as Taehyung and Jimin step in with mirroring looks of disgruntlement. Taehyung walks over, lips quirking wryly as you slide your arms over his neck.

“Don’t tease,” you chastise, but he ignores you in lieu of pulling you close, swaying slightly to the sound of his quiet humming. His hands are hot, burning through the thin material of your shirt as he presses you flush against his body.

“Romantic,” you whisper, smiling. Taehyung smiles too, eyes still closed.

“Welcome back, beautiful.” You startle at the sound, but smile at the familiar voice, leaning into his touch. Taehyung allows you to slip from his hold, the newcomer twirling you around.

“Hi, Jin,” you say shyly, biting your lip. Seokjin beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Missed you so much,” he says softly. “Was about to lose my sanity if you were away any longer.”

You laugh aloud, and Seokjin looks a little awestruck at the sound, watching you with that soft, adoring look in his eyes. “I thought you would’ve enjoyed the peace while I was gone.”

“Hardly. I was left in a house full of horny kids. The testosterone levels were crazy,” he sighs dramatically. “Pass.”

Somewhere in the background, Namjoon snorts. “Please, hyung. You act like you weren’t jacking off three times a day to her pictures.”

Seokjin squeaks, Hoseok roaring in laughter. Jungkook claps a hand to his mouth, trying and failing to hide his mirth, sexual tension momentarily forgotten.

You loop your arms around his neck with a coy smile. “Is this true, Jinnie?”

“Don’t tease me,” he mumbles into your neck. He feels the shaking of your silent giggles and groans. “I hate you, Joon.”

“If it helps, I’m flattered, you know. And the feeling is mutual, in case you were wondering,” you whisper to him.

“It wasn’t just that,” Seokjin grumbles, glancing away as the tips of his ears darken. “I always want you around. You’re my home, you know.”

Your heart swells, fingers tingling. “Jin,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks. He looks everywhere but at you, complexion mirroring a tomato alarmingly fast. Seokjin, who can dish out sweetness but never take it, mood maker but so shy. Seokjin, who is kind and charming and gorgeous and has a big, beautiful heart.

“I love you so much,” you whisper. He looks at you wonderingly, as if mystified by such an all-encompassing sentiment.

“___ … You have no idea how much I adore you,” Seokjin breathes, a little giddy, a little lightheaded by that fond, warm expression you’re regarding him with.

“Not more than me.” The two of you jump at the sound, jolted from your secluded bubble, to see, shockingly, Yoongi pouting behind the eldest. The composer has his arms crossed, brows knitted and cheeks puffed out.

“Did you forget about us again,” Yoongi says, petulant. You and Seokjin look at one another, stunned, before bursting into laughter.

Namjoon and Hoseok join the rapper, crowding the two of you from the sides, sporting similarly roguish grins. Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook share a mischievous look, squishing in close.

“Guys,” Seokjin complains, broad shoulders being quashed by the sheer force of Jungkook’s biceps. Your face is pressed uncomfortable tight against his – impossibly solid and strong – chest.

“Can’t – breathe,” you yelp, voice muffled. A hand grabs your wrist and pops you from the throng.

“Hello again,” Hoseok grins.

“Hoseokie,” you gasp, a little winded but still incredibly grateful for a breath of fresh air, something the dancer himself seems to embody.

“Sunshine,” he says happily, reaching for you. Before he can wrap himself around you, Namjoon comes slamming in, dimples and all.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed our little reunion, my dick is hard and throbbing and the obscene amount of times I’ve simultaneously cried and jacked off to the sound of your voice is absurd, my cock should’ve wilted at the pure ferocity and angst I’ve poured onto the poor thing, and I am beyond ecstatic to have you back – so much so that I need to rail you against the our skyline balcony, lest I implode within the next two minutes. So! Let’s move to the bedroom, shall we?” Namjoon says matter-of-factly.

“Good idea,” Hoseok beams, completely unfazed by their leader’s rather lewd confession as he scoops you up easily, your boyfriends quickly following suit.

Hoseok sets you down onto the centre of the king-sized bed, silk sheets bunching beneath you as you sprawl over them. You move to sit up on your elbows, but Jungkook hovers over you, pressing you down instantly.

His dark eyes rake over your form unabashedly, one hand popping the surviving buttons of your top and the other pulling off his shirt.

“Greedy maknae.” Jungkook readily ignores Seokjin’s disgruntled mutter in the background as he leans down kiss you.

“Missed your taste,” he murmurs. Your hand trails down his bare chest, retracing every memorized groove and dip of his unfairly gorgeous body.

“Jungkook.” He tears himself away, panting heavily, to glance at Namjoon, who sends him a warning look.

“Don’t be selfish,” the rapper chastises. Jungkook drops his gaze to where you lay splayed out beneath him, hair mussed and lips swollen, chest heaving as you recover from his ministrations.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound apologetic at the least. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, growling once before he slides off.

“You’re in for a long night, beautiful,” Hoseok tells you, cupping your face and thumbing your cheek slowly, revelling the heat that tinges your skin. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you. And not just this.”

“I missed you all too,” you whisper, smile soft.

Yoongi closes the door.

Your phones blow up the entire night, left collectively buzzing beneath the couch cushions.

[03:21] rhys: damn, y’all still banging? it’s been 4 days

[04:28] rhys: i need a gf

.

.

.

“Mmm. Tickles.”

“Good morning, gorgeous.” You smile into the pillow, eyes still closed, turning your head to the side expectantly. You know your expression is a little blissful, and you hear his fond chuckle.

“Love you,” you mumble. Someone presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Love you too, heart.”

[rumblelibrary]

Kinky stuff you said?

so... i have this idea

I know we all collectively as a fandom have decided that Andrea is a fluff ball lmao

but I'm rooting for him because...I don't know, like when he got angry when he found out about the letter and started to play the violin all annoyed and how he raised his voice and there is also the look that he gave Olga he gives me the feelings like~

Andrea spank me with that violin bow (we can buy a new one later)

Something like Teach me a lesson sweet boy

Dancing the dance [Andrea Marowski x Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Smut (fingering, spanking, mentions of cheating)

Author’s note: Do I have to say something? I mean the request is amazing enough

It was just a day like any other in the little village, you opened your bookshop, a small little thing that your uncle run and you were proud to call it your precious jewel. 

You worked hard to keep it afloat, you went by bicycle to the bigger cities nearby to get the best books yourself or the classics, you were determined not to let it die on you, but it was every day harder.

It was almost the end of your day when you saw Mr Barnes come inside, he was a war veteran that suffered terrible injuries, but also an avid reader who would come even twice a week.

“Don’t you tell me you have already finished it, James”

You smiled at him and he shrugged, his playful smirk running over his lips. “I like this Agatha Christie author and her Belgian detective, what can I say?”

He was a player, you knew it and didn’t expect anything less from him, he is handsome and he knows it. But you never took him seriously and even less since a certain shipwrecked violinist made his way to your heart, but truth to be told, you indulged him. Sure, he was a passionate reader, but he loved to come and flirt with you and you need him and his coins to call it a day.

“Well, what’s next then?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, you’re the bookworm, aren’t you?”

His smirk was playful but you ignored it and smiled only moving away from the counter, making your away around the books to try the one you were meaning to offer him next. You always planned one in advance, or even two, just to make sure to give him enough attention but not too much.

“What about…” you begun, your tongue sticking a little put as you’re focused, eyebrows furrowed as you read the titles.

“You’d look even more the part with glasses” he interrupted you and you chuckled 

“I know, I know, I should wear them but..”

“No, I mean that you’d look even more attractive with them on”

You kept quiet as he moved closer, his arm leaning against the shelf in front of you as you mumbled a thank you.

He stared at you following your every move, your hand picking a thin book and handing it to him.

“The Great Gatsby” he read out loud “Is it new?” “No, just American, it was published in 1925”

He nodded looking at it as he moved page after page, his lips pursed in concentration as you tried to move past him, but he just stood still and board in front of you.

“What do you do after work?”

“Oh, well I have some chores to do at home, study new purchases for the shop”

“You always do” he said closing the book with a loud snap making you jolt in your spot

“Let’s have a date night, we could dine at the tavern and you can tell me more about those orders you always have to do” he said taking a step forward as you mimicked him taking a step back.

“Y/N” he murmured “we are dancing this dance from a long time, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what you mean”

You replied only as you tried to move past him

“You’re very attractive, still unmarried, incredibly tempting for every man in town, you should expect it”

The truth was that you weren’t completely far from anything love related, but Dr Mead advised you to keep your little ‘entanglement’ with Andrea s secret for the time being. Most people still didn’t get the difference of him being Polish and not German and it would only make your life harder for no reason. So you obliged, you closed the curtains at night when he sneaked into your room, you visited him often with the excuse of bringing him books, you pretend not to wish his touch on you every time of the day.

“I said I can’t already”

You took the chance to move past James and take the broom to clean.

He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as his eyes travelled on you. He was patient, but not that patient, nevertheless you were a delicious eye candy to his eyes. He put his hand to his pocket still holding the book into the other one. He pulled out some coins and left them on the table, there was also a tip from you.

“I like this game Y/N” he said bluntly to you and he looked at the book “also. such a small book makes me think you want me to come back soon”

You looked at him, you matched his smirk, oh he loved to be kept on the edge, didn’t he?

“See you next week” you only said and he gave you a light military salutation to you saying something about being at your orders.

You smirked biting the inside of your cheek as you enjoyed the game for sure, or the dance as he called it, but you were realising how you had to probably tone it down. He was liking it a bit too much and going over the simple play, plus you were losing the plot of it since Andrea came into the picture.

After you closed the day, recorded all the sells and cleaned the shop you wrapped yourself up in a coat, taking an easy children book for Andrea to practice with. On your way out you noticed some scattered flowers on the ground, but you didn’t pay much attention to it.

You made your way to Ursula and Janet’s house, the violin being played out loud, a very dramatic and strong melody going off, almost violent.

As you knocked at the door Janet welcomed you quickly.

“Oh Y/N, please try to talk to him, at least you know German” she said and you looked at her confused “he went out for a walk and came back so angry, he shouted at poor Ursula, she is so bumped, I can’t look after the two of them” Janet said in her own way that made it sound almost funny, if not sarcastic.

You nodded taking off your coat and hat, you walked upstairs holding the book with you, the music getting louder as you took the stairs until his room, you got inside without knocking because it would be impossible for him to hear anyway. The first thing you noticed was his back wrapped in that white shirt and the pants kept up by his suspenders. You still remember vividly the first time you pulled those suspenders off his shoulders, it is still one of your favourite things to do as a prelude of what is about to come.

“Andrea” you called him as you closed the door behind your back, locking it just because you know how much Ursula likes to peak in.

He turned around suddenly, almost scaring you off as he held his violin in one hand and the thin bow into his other hand, his eyes on fire, jaw clenched and his back straight like a soldier.

“You bezwstydny” he shouted at you and you looked at him even more confused “schamlos” he said then in German.

“Shameless? Why?” You asked frowning, you had the luck to know German because your family immigrated to Cornwall before the WWI to join your uncle’s business, but that didn’t help when Andrea was so mad to decide not to tolerate any other language by his own like now.

“I saw you” he said spitting venom “You think funny?”

“But what?”

“You with that man in bookshop!” He growled putting down the violin because it was at serious risk of being thrown on the floor.

You parted your lips in shock as he said that, so those flowers were his? 

“Did you come to pick me up?”

He nodded but his lips pressed against each other in disgust.

“Andrea, don’t make that face, he is just a client acting up”

“You act up”

You looked at him shaking your head “you don’t understand” you said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“oh no, I do understand”

His voice was different, his accent thicker than ever, there was no trace of the usual sweet smile, almost mischievous, that he always had on his lips.

He sat down on the chair were Ursula watched him for nights on “on my lap”

You frowned “no”

He raised his eyebrows “I think you not understand” he said threateningly “Are you playing with two men?”

You shook your head vehemently “You know it is not like this” you stated “I want only you”

He didn’t seem impressed, he pursed his lips in disbelief and let out a sarcastic chuckle twirling the bow between his fingers.

“Then prove it”

His accent hitting you again, you loved it, but the way he said it, that didn’t feel comforting.

You stared at him, you didn’t want to argue with him, he was already too mad and to hold a conversation was to ask too much.

So you obliged leaving the book aside and making your way to his lap sitting on it.

“No this way” he said wiggling underneath you to make you stand up

“gebückt” he said in German waving the bow to you. Oh, so he wanted you bent over it?

You stood uncomfortable for a moment but then you nodded again, you needed to get past this crisis, no?

So you moved your dress a bit to make your way onto his lap, you wanted to ask what now but then you felt distinctively the way he pulled your skirts up.

“Andrea” you hissed at him but by now he held you in that position pushing your panties down, the cold air hitting your bum, your cheeks bringing from embarrassment.

“You like play, so you get to be punish like little kid”

You blushed even more if possible, you wiggled but he held you down firmly until you stopped struggling and settled in the position he wanted.

“Repeat numbers in English for me” he said and you whimpered as he smacked that bow onto your ass earning a gasp, your shoulders trembled inward as it was more painful than expected.

“Number?”

“One” you replied immediately, how much do you have to count, you wondered.

You whimpered as other two snaps to the stick followed very quick together

“Andrea, please stop” “If you wanted me to stop you’d not act to earn it” his words an hiss between his teeth “we begin again now, you didn’t count”

You groaned but another slap reduced you to a forced obedience “one”

He smirked widely as he twirled the bow in his hand, you could’t see him but you could ear the way it cut the air around.

You obeyed and counted all the three snaps that followed, your breath itching and your hands trying to reach out to the floor to gain some advantage in the positioning, which still felt too embarrassing, the constrictive exposure of your bottom making you feel uneasy.

Andrea saw that movement and he reached down with his free hand clasping onto your jaw making you look up like some animal in need to be tamed. Another whip hit you.

“Five” you groaned as now your position felt even more humiliating, you shivered as he chuckled

“Now you will be good during more strokes, if you manage to come to dziesięć then you’ll be free”

You groaned, how much is that? The confusion in you was showing as your body stiffened. The unknown scaring you, your core clenched shamelessly, your wetness revealing a pleasure that was evident, a dirtiness of your own that you didn’t expect to meet.

“Only five more”

He whispered and smacked your ass again, you whined squeezing your eyes

“Six”

Oh, to see you so obedient.

“You like to be a tease, don’t you? You love it, showing off like a whore to that man, to all the men, you sell them the whole experience for few coins? You make them believe they can fuck you?”

He smirked hitting your ass again, your hips buckling against his leg as you were looking for relief from that desire

“Seven”

“You love it, you love to be desired by many don’t you?”

“Eight”

“You want them to dream of you at night, to desire to fuck you and smack your ass like I am doing now, these skirts only making them dream more”

“Nine”

You were sobbing by now, his hand on your jaw making it hard to breathe and speak

“Who is a whore?” “I am”

“Who is my whore?

“I am”

He smirked, he was pleased giving you one last whip, the hair of the bow falling down as some of them broke, oh you know too well how much that will cost you, Andrea wasn’t one to easily ruin something like that.

“Ten!”

You almost shouted it, your thighs trembling and knees kept closing and parting trying to find some relief.

Andrea leaned down kissing the back of your neck as he gave you time to calm down, let the humiliation sink in.

“Andrea” Ursula’s voice rang from behind the door “Are you quite alright? Dinner is almost ready”

“I am! Y/N and I need a moment” he said, his voice completely different and far from the dark threatening voice that poured over you a second before “We will be down in ten!” As he spoke he touched over your wet slit, how shamelessly you were patching his pants with all that excitement, so slowly began playing with you, you winced biting on the fabric of his tailored cloths trying to hold back any sound while those skilled violist fingers kept scissoring inside of you. “We haven’t done yet”

Tagged @cazzyimagines​ @lieutenantn​ @handmaiden-of-mischief​ @thesunflowersutra​ @zemomybeloved​​ @fictionlandslanddreams�� @charistory​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @apparrio​ @hb8301​ @whatawildone​ @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl

Let me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

[storyblcd]

"The kids are going to be named Eggo and Kelloggs, right?" Donghua picked up a magazine off the table and flipped through it.

»»————Tongue sticking out the corner of her lip in CONCENTRATION - she launches and cheers when the little discard wrapper airplane sails valiantly through the air and settles comfortably, making its new nest in Donghua’s hair. “Don’t be STUPID. What kind of parent names their twins after waffles? You have to be more creative - like, ice cream flavors, maybe. I got a DOUBLE SCOOP, I can’t waste the chance - ”

@a-mighty-thunder / i hate it when donghua’s kinda right