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munsons-hellfire · 25 days

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Lost Part 1 | Cassian

SUMMARY: You were the princess of the Spring Court. But you no longer wanted to follow behind your brother. When Feyre decides to leave, she takes you and Lucien. But with the discovery of your mate and a war on its way you start to feel so lost.

PAIRINGS: Cassian x Tamlin!Sister!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, mfw, part 1, I might have missed something but I don't think this really has a lot of warning in this part. Enjoy!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I ended up turning this into a few parts. There are a few points I want to touch and I don't think it would've been a good idea to do one whole part. If you wish to be added to the tag list for this please let me know down in the comments. The sumary will most likely stay the same I'm not sure yet.

WORD COUNT: 2.0K

It felt like forever. The torture you faced under your bother’s ruleing. It wasn’t protection as he liked to call it. It was a prison, Tamlin had taken over after your father had been killed. You hadn’t been able to shed a tear when it happened, you always assumed that you weren’t meant to be in the Spring Court. When Feyre arrived as a human, you knew she was your chance for an escape.

So when she took the opportune moment to leave, you followed right behind her. Currently you didn’t understand how you had found yourself in this situation. You, Feyre, and Lucien had been on the run from the Spring Court. Little cuts littered your chest, arms, neck, and face. It was so cold, you didn’t know if you could hold on any longer. One of Lucien’s brothers was on top of you, holding you against the ice.

He lifts your head up and slams it down into the ice hard. Stars are dancing around your eyes, as you struggle to keep the blade from going into your throat. Your hand was on the blade, blood dripping onto your neck. A whimper escaped your lips as he stared down at you with a malevolent smile.

“You make such pretty sounds, I wonder what else I could get out of you.” He whispered, his tongue licking up the side of your chin all the way to your pointed ear.

You tried to push the male of you but it was no use. He was far stronger than you, and right now you were too weak. You couldn’t access your power considering you were drained. There were plants all around you even in the Winter Court but that was the last thing on your mind. It also didn’t help that you had never learned to fight. Tamlin had thought it was best you learn how to be a housemaid, how to be a mother, how to take care of your future husband.

Whatever the case may be you learned everything except how to fight and how to use your powers in a situation like this, it was biting you in the ass. Where Tamlin could shape-shift, you could manipulate the plants around you. But your brother didn’t know that, you knew better than to tell him your secret. Just before he could do further damage to you another male flew into him knocking him to the ice.

You turned to your side, a wince leaving your lips as you watched that same male throw a punch into his face. He continued to do so, he hadn’t been able to stop until someone had pulled him off Lucien’s brother. He wasn’t dead, you knew that he was knocked out cold. Your breath was shallow, as the male turned towards you red siphons glistening in the darkness of the night. He was leaning over you, hazel eyes searching you.

He gently picked you up, resting your head to his chest while he cradled the rest of your body. You stared up at him, when he looked back down at you, it snapped. Just before you closed your eyes you felt the gold thread tied around your heart. The mating bond had snapped, you were tied to the male that had just saved you. Now that you were safe you could close your eyes and that’s exactly what you did.

☾

Rhysand stood next to his brother as Madja worked on you. Cassian had his arms crossed over his chest, he was leaning against the door. The male was trying his hardest not to hover over Madja while she worked on his mate. But it was excruciating not to be next to you to hold your hand while she healed you.

“Are you positive?” Rhysand asked again, finally looking over at his brother. Feyre was at the end of the hallway, with Azriel as well. Lucien was also there but Cassian didn’t care much for him, his brother was responsible for the injuries to his mate. He wanted to kill him so they were standing guard in front of Lucien.

“Yes. The Princess of the Spring Court is my mate. I know she felt it too.” Cassian explained again, saying the same thing he’d consistently said when they had arrived back home. Cassian paused, staring briefly at his brother. “Do you really think she has powers?”

“Feyre believed it, and I know what I saw when we were under the mountain. Tamlin didn’t see it but Amarantha did. She protected herself in a cocoon of vines. Whatever she can do, she’s more powerful than she believes herself to be.”

Cassian had heard mentions of the story about how you’d protected yourself to avoid the affliction of pain at the wrath of Amarantha. She loved your older brother, but she hated you. So she’d made your torture just as cruel and wicked as Feyre had gone through. She even locked you up with Feyre, keeping you distanced from the only family you’d ever known. Tamlin. Lucien.

Rhys had told Cass that he had done everything in his power to keep you safe. But when that happened, everything changed. He knew eventually you’d be in his court. Tamlin would destroy you, and it looks like he’d already done just that. Finally Rhys looked back at Cassian again.

“We need to keep her safe.”

“She’s my mate, I won’t let her go back to that bastard of a brother. She’s safe here.” Cassian stated calmly. He caught Rhys looking down the hall to Feyre who gave a nod.

“Then you both need to accept the bond officially, Tamlin will demand her back. And if it isn’t accepted we have no choice but to hand her back over.”

“I’ll discuss it with her when she’s awake. Until then I can’t do much.”

Rhys gave a nod of his head as Madja walked up to them. “She is healed, though she might be out for a few days. Everything was drained, powers included. She needs time to rest.” Madja explained.

“Thank you.” Cassian said, stepping past the healer and walking into the room. He grabbed a chair and set it next to your bed. Then he reached for your hand, holding it in his. Cassian would wait days for you to wake up, as long as you came back to him.

☾

You held onto that thread when you thought you might die. Slowly you blinked open your eyes, a groan escaped your lips. You looked around the room noticing that you weren’t in the Spring Court. Then the memories of what had happened came flashing back into your mind. Panic started to rush through your body, however a hand gave you a comforting squeeze. You turned your head to see the male that had saved you holding onto it.

Just like you remembered he had red siphons on his body. Seven of them to be exact. His black hair was shoulder length, some of it was tied back in a small bun. He looked sexy with his hair that way. A smirk covered his lips, he must have seen what you were thinking was plastered on your face. His golden-brown skin made him look just as handsome. You could see some tattoos peaking through his shirt.

It was a gray shirt and was fitted perfectly to his upper body. You wondered what everything looked like underneath his clothes. Your mind started to drift, thinking of what he’d feel like against you, naked. His pulling of the chair brought you out of your thoughts, you decided to pull yourself up slightly so you could lean against the headboard. You felt the golden string that connected you to him. It was such a pain to not be closer to him. You needed him closer.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice was soft as you asked the question. He stared at you, the confusion was there only for a moment before it switched to understanding. You watched as the male stood from the chair, removed his boats and climbed into your bed. He leaned you forward gently, sitting behind you.

When he settled down into the bed, he pulled you towards his chest. You had noticed that somewhere in between him joining you on the bed he'd taken off his shirt so you could feel his warmth. You rested your head back on his chest, and closed your eyes feeling the bond shine brightly at the touch.

“I’m Cassian.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence.

“Y/N.” You paused, pulling his large hand into yours and entangling your fingers together. You didn’t understand how you’d gotten so lucky to be blessed with a mate provided by the Mother. “So you really are my mate?”

You questioned finally. Maybe this was all a dream, and you’d wake back up in the Spring Court. You didn’t want that though, you’d known you had finally gotten away from your brother's temper and you couldn’t go back to it. Things had gotten worse for you when you’d all returned from under the mountain.

“I am.” Cassian’s words were so comforting as he said them.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get a mate. I… Tam said I’d never experience this. That I’d be marrying off to someone who would never be my mate.” You felt your mate tighten his grip around your waist, his jealousy was evident but you didn’t mind it. Oddly enough it felt comforting, you’d been missing something like that for a long time.

Cassian clenched his jaw at the mere mention of what your brother had in store for you when the time was right. He nudged his nose into your hair. “I can assure you mate, that’ll never happen. I will not allow your brother to take you away from me.”

“But Tam, he’ll try to get me back. I am the princess of the Spring Court after all. He’ll try to call a meeting, to call for a battle against this court.” The worry was evident in your voice as you spoke the words that Rhys had mentioned a few days ago.

“If we accept the mating bond, your brother can not do anything about it. We can accept it then see a Priestess.”

You wanted to reject the idea of accepting the bond so quickly, but you knew that was a lie. Cassian was your mate, and you were his. This had to be done, and it had to happen now. A war loomed over your heads because of your brother. He’d chosen the wrong side and you wouldn’t stand by anymore. Not with what you could do.

“Let’s do it.” You spoke finally. “I need a day, and we need somewhere where it can be just the two of us. When we come back we’ll see a Priestess.”

“I have a place in mind for privacy.” Cassian said, a smirk on his lips. “I can give you a day as well. But after that you’re mine forever, princess.” You only gave a nod and closed your eyes leaning further into Cassian’s chest. It wasn’t until you were finally asleep, breathing evenly that Cassian called to Rhys in his mind.

“How is she?” It was the first question he had asked when the conversation started.

“She’s fine.” Cassian paused, he glanced down at his mate. “She wants to accept the bond.”

“Good. That’s excellent news brother. I think we could all use that right now.”

“We’re gonna head to the cabin for a few days, then we’ll see a Priestess when we come back.”

“Sounds like a plan. When you both come back we’ll discuss what to do in case Tamlin does try to do something. I want to help her learn her powers if she’ll let me.”

“I think she’d be more than willing to learn. I think it would be great to start training with her as well even if we don’t get far into it.”

“Good idea, brother. Both of you get some rest. I’ll let Feyre know she’s doing better.”

With those words Cassian felt his High Lord leave his mind. When Cassian looked back down at you he noticed that you were asleep. The fae lights in the room dimmed down allowing only the moonlight into the room. Cassian held onto you tightly as you slept on top of his form. This wasn’t the best of circumstances, how he found you. But he was so glad that he’d found you when you needed him most.

#cassian #cassian x reader #acotars #cassian x you #reader insert #x reader #tamlin #lucien #feyre #rhysand #mates #azriel

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starogeorgina · 2 months

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𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen OC , Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen OC

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.03

“If you come to Dragonstone with me, I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Your lower lip wobbles. You wanted to leave with him, but realistically, it wasn’t plausible. “And what happens once we arrive at Dragonstone? Your mother and Prince Daemon just accept me with open arms?”

Jacaerys looks down at his feet. He knew they wouldn’t trust you, nor would they likely wish for you to be in their home. “No, they wouldn’t at first,” he gulps down. “But we could make them see you played no part in the plan of usurping my mother's throne.”

“I didn’t even know my father had died until servants were sent to help me get dressed for Aegon’s coronation. How can I prove that?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Whatever road I take, I’ll end up in the same situation.” Feeling uncomfortable, you unconsciously pick at the skin surrounding your finger nail until it bleeds. “If I return home without Stark’s backing Aegon, I will need to face the wrath of being a failure and disappointment to my family. If I go with you to Dragonstone, and I bend my knee to Rhaenyra I’m leaving my sister and her children with the vipers.”

Suddenly your hands are pried apart. “Stop hurting yourself.”

The authority in Jacaerys tone takes you by surprise. Like most dragons, he had a fiery temper, but this was different. It was as if he was putting all his built-up rage aside to protect you. Meekly, you say, “habit.”

Jacaerys inspects your fingertips, frowning as he takes in the older cuts along with the newer ones. He turns your left hand over and runs his thumb over your palm. “I remember playing outside in the gardens when you fell and cut your hand. I’m surprised it didn’t scar.”

“I remember…” Despite your eyes becoming glossy, a chuckle escapes your lips. “My mother somehow blamed you for my falling, and you hid in your quarters for days.”

“I hid in my quarters because Ser Harwin saw me attempt to kiss your hand; I thought my mother and father would be mad when he told them.”

You smile; this was the first time you heard his version; all you remember clearly was your mother yelling in the privacy of her apartments that the ‘eldest bastard’ was to blame. “I’m guessing they weren’t?”

“Once I explained that I wanted to comfort you, she went to visit King Viserys and proposed our betrothal.” He lets go of your hands and moves his own up to gently cup your face.

“Things could have been so different if my grandsire hadn’t gotten into my mother's head. Do you think we would have been happy?”

“We still could be.”

You feel as if the air has been sucked from your lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Wh-what do you mean?” Jacaerys couldn’t possibly be implying what you thought he did. “What do you mean we still could be?”

“Marry me, here in Winterfell.”

“You have more courage than any knight I know for even posing such a thing.”

A smile curls on his lips. “It’s not a joke. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember; if you say no, I will respect that. But if you agree, for the rest of my life, I will spend every day loving you and keeping you safe. Nobody will ever be able to hurt you again.”

His eyes follow your movement as you bring his fingers to your mouth and plant a gentle kiss on them. “My sweet prince, we cannot. Aegon told me, If I betray him, then it’s your life he will take.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

—

Since Northern wedding vows were shared in front of a weirwood tree in the presence of the old god that they believed in, you wanted to be careful not to offend them with your Old Valyrian custom, so Jacaerys purposed you did the ceremony yourselves, outside, surrounded by nothing but the moonlight and your dragons flying above.

You cut each other's lips with a blade made of dragonglass. Jacaerys cuts his hand and rubs a mark on each of your foreheads to signify the continuation of your bloodline. You pledge to each other, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

“I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao.”

“My sweet Jacaerys, I feel the same way.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and saying everything you wish becomes difficult. Jace leans down, pressing his cold lips against your own. An electric spark you’ve never felt passes through you; it was strong enough to make the snow nipping at your skin momentarily disappear. You wanted this; you wanted him. Jacaerys finally being yours felt surreal—a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

When Jace pulls back slightly and mumbles against your lips, “We should go back inside. I don’t want my bride to catch a cold.”

—

Nervously, you walk towards the bed covered in layers of fur and find yourself almost digging at your nails again, but when you feel a gentle kiss pressed to the back of your neck, the tension you're holding eases slightly, but the butterflies in your stomach aren’t completely gone.

“We don’t need to do anything,” Jacaerys says quietly. “We are married now; there is no rush.”

You did want to be intimate with Jace, but now that you were standing here, you felt unworthy of him. Bruises from Aegon holding you down still linger on your skin, and it made you feel disgusting.

“I do, but... I’m afraid of what comes next,” you admit. “The repercussion of—”

He cuts you off with a kiss and says, “Whatever happens next, I’ll protect you.”

For once you hold your tongue, not wanting to loudly question how impossible that would be, You sigh, “I wish I could turn all the thoughts in my brain off, even for a short time, so I could revel in my husband's warmth.”

“I could help with that.”

Curious, you lock eyes with him. “What do you mean?”

“I could make you feel good without having sex, but only if you wish it.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan was, but you trusted Jace enough to follow through with his words. Taking your hand, he guides you to lay back on the bed. He kisses down your neck. “Promise me, you’ll tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Promise.”

Jacaerys kisses down your clothed body until he reaches your thighs. He pushes your skirts up to your waist, then slowly pulls your small cloth down. You await the stinging stretch of Jace pushing his cock into you at any second, but instead you feel his hot breath on your core. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“I’m going to make the sweetest thing the gods ever made.”

“Do you mean—oh fuck!”

Jace spreads your folds open with his fingers, then dips his tongue inside of you.

“Gods, that feels good!”

One of your trusted ladies in waiting once told you that a gold cloak had ‘eaten her cunny’ and shared how good it felt. Ever since you had been curious about the act, this was far better than anything you could have imagined. Jace hooks his arms around your thighs, holding you in place while turning his attention to your clitoral area and flicking over it with his tongue.

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as the coil in your stomach snaps, and you reach the first climax a man has ever given you.

Jace wipes his glistening lips and chin with his sleeve before moving up the bed and laying beside you. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then gently caresses the soft flesh of your thigh. “We don’t need to go any further.“

“I want you, Jace; I want this.”

Hearing those words fall from your lips, he quickly lowers his breeches until his hard cock springs free. Jace rolls over, lines himself up with you, and slowly begins to push inside you. His thrusts are gentle as his touch is soft, making you feel cared for, almost safe. Jace peppers your neck in kisses while bringing his thumb to your clitoral area and starts to rub it, taking great pleasure in how tightly you squeeze him. “Gods,” he moans. “You’re so perfect, Ness; I think you were made for me.”

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, but you fight to hold them back, not wanting to ruin the moment. Jace notices and immediately stops his movements. “Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, keep going, please, please!”

Slowly he starts to thrust into you again; he seems unsure until you wrap your legs around his waist, which encourages him to go faster again. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak for the second time, and Jacaerys isn’t far behind.

—

Your fingers glide over Jacaerys bare back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The both of you were sticky with sweat, but you’d stopped caring hours ago.

While being so caught up in making love, Jacaerys hadn’t noticed the bruises on your body until he collapsed, panting and gasping beside you. If it wasn’t for exhaustion overtaking him, he would still be expressing his fury.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, his voice laced with sleep.

“How the sun is rising.”

Looking out the window, you can see the orange and pink hues of the sky, and the snowfall is becoming heavier. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool morning air fill your lungs.

Whatever happens next, you must remember that you’re the blood of the dragon, and you must be strong.

I’ve always loved you — I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao

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pilot-boi · 3 months

Note

How specifically do Ren and Nora react when Jaune finishes his story of being the Rusted Knight?

His brother looks tired.

It’s the only thing Ren can think as he listens to Jaune and team RWBY explain what happened. The words are just washing over him, he’s listening but he’s not hearing. He can’t stop staring at his brother.

It was back in Beacon when they first called each other that, and Ren said it partially out of jest. Partially to get Jaune to leave so he could put a gods damned shirt on.

It wasn’t until he was standing next to a screaming-crying Nora and he could see the petals of his own grief swirling in the air where there once was a portal that he really realized what it meant to have a brother.

His brother looks tired.

He’s tall, and he’s confident, and he’s sure of himself, and he looks like a strong wind might bowl him over. There are white streaks in his hair, and his eyes hold an age that Ren has only seen in Oscar’s too-old eyes.

Jaune’s hands won’t stop shaking. Ren can see it, even though his brother is clearly trying to hide it. He keeps clearing his throat when he speaks, looking faintly surprised every time his own voice exits his mouth.

“-and then we were in Vacuo, and you guys found us,” Jaune finishes. His smile is the same as Ren remembers, blinding and sheepish in equal measure.

Ruby is talking about something, but Ren can’t stop staring at Jaune.

He’s never known Nora to be so quiet.

His brother is staring at him.

“Can I…” Jaune interrupts Ruby. “Can I just have some time with my team?” Ruby doesn’t even blink, just nods. The rest of her team follow her out of the room.

Then it’s just the three of them. In a silence so tense he could cut it with his father’s blade.

Jaune is just standing there. He reaches up to brush something out of his eyes, finds nothing there, and drops his hand back to his side. He doesn’t invite them to sit, he doesn’t even sit himself.

It’s like he’s forgotten how to be a person.

“I…” Jaune’s voice creaks into the silence, he trails of. He clears his throat, frowning. Tries his voice on again, like an old coat that hasn’t been worn in years. “I’m sorry I didn’t…” Shakes his head again. “I really missed you guys.”

Ren nods absently. Nora is stiff at his side, her hand as cold as the Solitas tundra in his grasp.

“Were you safe?” Ren asks.

Jaune shrugs, grinning sheepishly. “Mostly,” he concedes, and that’s probably as good as they’re going to get. Bright smile or not, Jaune seems more fragile now than even his spiral in Mistral.

“Were you happy?” And Nora’s hand tightens in his grasp.

Jaune’s eyes widen, and his hand twitches at his side. Ren wonders why he doesn’t grab his sash.

When his brother hesitates further, a shuttered look crossing his face, Ren blinks into gray scale.

Conflict, grief, confusion, joy, rage, sorrow, pain, pain, pain

“I was the Rusted Knight,” Jaune says, stiff as the armor of his title. “It didn’t matter if I was happy.” If I die buying them time it’s worth it, they’re the ones that matter.

“But were you happy??” Nora asks. Her voice is steady, calm, but her whole arm is shaking in Ren’s grip. Scars from lightning cracking across her shoulders, echoing white streaks in his brother’s hair.

Oh the way a person is marked by thinking they’re only worth what they can do for others.

Was he happier? Did he wish he was still there? Did he not want to come back? He was the hero he always wanted to be, a literal beacon of valor and bravery. He was making a difference.

Ren always preferred the Cat, personally, (and how that stings now) but the Rusted Knight was adored. In the books scrounged from drop-offs, and the storytime sessions in libraries, every kid cheered and wept for the brave and cheerful knight. You couldn’t find a better storybook role model than him.

How cruel that his brother had to crumble to dust for the character to exist.

“I was alone,” Jaune creaks eventually, voice as rusty as his armor, as if that’s enough of an answer.

And from anyone else it wouldn’t be. But from his brother, who lives and dies for the people he cares about, no sentence could be more telling.

#rwby #jaune arc #lie ren #nora valkyrie #mine #asks #canoncorps #my writing

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ktsumu · 5 months

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THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

pairing: childe / tartaglia x f!reader wc: 4.4k

choosing to love him is choosing endless bloodshed; all of it is yours.

(alternatively — the metamorphosis of a god through the eyes of his keeper.)

warnings: suggestive / mentions of sex, nudity, profanity, angst, mentions of murder / death, ambiguous ending i think, almost canon compliant

note: 4.4k words and i don't think even this has a plot. WHO CARES dedicated to @shoyostar bc i never stop talking and @crysugu :3 here he is!

Before he was ever Tartaglia, eleventh of the Harbingers, he was a timid child.

He feared the simple things — speaking to neighbours, strangers, the mailman. He never went to the market alone, not without his parents, not without his older brother to hold his hand. Neighbourhood boys called him names and you called him sweeter things, bringing him in for hot chocolate because of his red eyes, holding his frozen hands in a lukewarm basin.

Your town was on the coast but he rarely saw the water; he was afraid of drowning and even more afraid of sinking, even though you could see the ice was six inches thick through the sides of the fishing holes scattered everywhere. Not even the men would crack it, fathers that ate at the head of the table, yet he thought he’d be the one. Nor did he trust anyone to save him.

Childe was Ajax before he was anything for anyone else, his name from myth. Eagle. He was born a Greek tragedy; hero, for most.

He was fourteen when he disappeared. Your mother said he’d come back home, kids get mad. Your father said a bear got to him, a weak thing like that — your whole neighbourhood looked for him after he vanished.

He was gone three days in the woods but he told you he’d been gone for months. He was underground; you asked if it was Hell but he said it was much more. When he crawled back up to Morepesok, he was a different person.

He looked you in the eye and told you he was finally ready to fight.

You didn’t believe he was lost for three months until you watched him hold a sword.

By the barrels on the fishing dock, boys fought with wooden blades. Girls would watch and sit on box crates, swaddled up to their ears, cheering on whichever one they liked that week. They’d watch as they hit each other, splinters snagging on coats, knuckles gone white from the cold and how tight they held their handles.

When Childe stepped up for the first time, they snickered at him. The boy who ran away from home, coming to join the sword fights. It was a joke and they laughed.

(You saw something in his eyes that day and it scared you. There is nothing more terrifying than a child with bloodlust.)

He beat the kid so badly that they put thirty stitches in his forehead, and you were left to do patchwork on the bomb.

Cutting coloured wires, you dabbed Childe’s red cheek with a warm cloth, wringing it out in the bowl of water that separates the two of you. He was calmer then, in front of you. Not that he wasn’t before; it was less of not being calm and more of craving victory, more of a test of his newfound gift.

“I told you to stop,” you mumbled, “hitting him, I mean.”

“I stop, he starts. I won.”

“What did you win? Where's your prize?”

Childe looked at you dumb, with his dumb childish eyes that no longer held hate. Maybe it was somewhere, hidden, beneath the water you drown in, but instead the surface held a glare of wonder. He was Ajax again, always hopeful.

He hissed when you dabbed his skin with something other than water, something that stung. “I—”

“No one wins in war, Ajax,” you scolded. “You’ll see someday.”

“I won’t be in a war.”

You scoffed, your hand gripping his jaw when he tried to run away. “We’ll see.”

You’re seventeen when he stumbles inside your house, the wooden door cracking against the wall as he slumps to the floor.

Your feet are cold when you step away from the wood stove in your living room, dropping to your knees, holding his face in your hands that are always so much warmer than his. They cradle his flushed cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead; he’s gripping at a pulse in his ribs.

“I’m fine,” he assures you, before you start to cry, “just tired. I’m just tired.”

He eases the door shut, his head tilting back against the wall. His hand rests on your knee, squeezing it like he’s grounding himself, counting on the fabric of your pants to do it for him. You touch the icy veins that run over his knuckles and he comes back to life.

“What happened to you?” you rush, your family asleep down the hallway. You turn the dial on the oil lamp beside you, watching the fire reflecting off of his dirty cheeks.

He laughs, pulling your wrist off when you smack your hand over his mouth with a lousy ‘alright, alright’ and a glance towards your parents’ bedroom. “Me?” he coughs out.

“You should see the other two.”

(You don’t know what told you first, but you remember going cold.)

“What do you mean?” you whisper. You can’t stop whispering, you can’t stop shaking. “Ajax, what did you do?”

Childe’s smile tilts itself crooked. “I killed them,” he says.

His voice is so quiet it cracks under the pressure to not be heard.

(He’s smiling, but he’s crying. It doesn’t look like he means to. He doesn’t know he is.)

You want to run. You notice the smear of blood on his jaw again—is that even his? His hand still clutches your knee but you only now notice the red his palm stains it with, the red on the side of his torso. You want to run.

(You should run.)

You don’t run. Because it’s Ajax, and he’s tired of running tonight. Why would you?

“It’s okay,” you say with a nod and a shiver, like shutters in a hurricane. You’re both crying, and he’s against your chest, and he’s still so fucking cold that it’s migrating to you. “Stand up. Ajax, stand up—”

“I can’t,” “You can, you need to get in the bath.”

“I’ll wake your—“

“If you were ever worried about that, you wouldn’t have come here, so Ajax would you please—“

He breathes out, muffling his groans as he staggers to his feet. You’re not of much help but at least your hands, your shaking hands, are telling him you’re there. And that’s enough.

“I love it when you say that,” he grimaces, shuffling towards the hallway. “My name.”

Childe misses your eighteenth birthday by ten minutes.

You ate dinner with your family at your favourite pub, his siblings wrote you cards and pulled your ears, you tied your hair loose and flirted with the pretty guy who fed the boat lines. You don’t like him all that much, but he looks nothing like your neighbour and for you, that is a fine enough reason to talk.

Stones hit your window at ten past midnight, and Childe stands in the snowy alley outside of your bedroom. He wields another pebble and tilts his head.

Your window’s too old for you to ignore me.

You pull on your coat and boots, scarf too because he talks too much, and head outside into the night, creeping out the back door. You cross your arms, walking over to where he stands just outside of the lamplight.

“Hiding?” you ask, stopping in front of him.

Childe laughs like nothing’s wrong, digging through his back pocket with his gloved hand, handing you a box. “Happy birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday."

“Belated.”

You glance between his rosy cheeks and the box before you take it, looking towards the end of the alley to avoid his stare. Because guys like Childe don’t look away — you know better than to look back.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tucking your hands back into the warmth of your pockets.

Childe nods; you don’t open gifts in front of him, you know better than to do that, too. He knows better than to think you would.

You look at his hands, eyebrows furrowing. “Leather gloves?”

“So you noticed?”

“How? You couldn’t afford long johns last year.”

Childe grins. “I got a job.”

“At the tank house,” you say, crossing your arms. “Which, you had last year.”

The look in his eyes tells you he’s in deep — he doesn’t seem to care about it as much as you do. “I’m a Harbinger, now.”

“You—”

“I’m the youngest—” “You’re the dumbest,” you grit, sticking a finger in between his ribs. “You're eighteen — what kind of achievement is that?”

He takes a deep breath, his lungs pushing your finger back until it falls defeated. “I didn’t expect you to be happy, believe me.”

“Why,” you whisper, “would I ever be happy to watch you sell yourself to killers?”

“You know I’m no better,”

“Oh, Ajax, if you think that’s what I know then you’re more stupid than I thought.”

There’s no real reason to excuse the blood on his hands other than the fact that they’re so gentle when they hold yours.

There’s a voice down the alley and two drunk men in hats and coats wave your way. You grimace, but Childe waves back.

“This is why you’re outside. You don’t want them to know where you live.”

“Or where you live.”

You grit your teeth. “Yes, because it’s great that your allies are a threat your family.”

“You’re not my family,” he says, “that’d make things weird.”

Your eyes well and you swallow, looking back at the men who stare at both of you. They murmur amongst themselves and you try to ignore them, but it’s hard when Childe won’t look away.

A breeze of snow from the rooftops drifts over you, and you look at him one more time. The last, you try to pledge to yourself. “Don’t leave with them.”

“It’s too late now and you know it.”

“How the fuck would I know it?”

“Don’t cry,” he tells you, much softer now that he knows you didn’t realize it yet, “I’ll come home, I’m not gone forever. If anything, I’ll come back richer. No one will sleep cold.”

“You’ll come back to spoil your family with blood money?”

“I’d spoil you, too,” he adds, “but I know better than to try that.”

There is a heavy silence between the two of you. It isn’t the weight of his gold or the weight of him not coming home; it is the weight of lead, of gunpowder. The weight of the bullets that his two new friends that wait in the street have loaded.

Childe takes your arms, tugging your hands from your pockets, frowning at your white fingertips and cracking knuckles.

“Take these—”

“I don’t want your dirty paws,”

“Well, I don’t want your dry hands. And when I come home, I’ll need them.”

Childe drives the knife deeper, twists it through your chest, and slips off his gloves. He places them in your hands and just snickers when you pocket them. “No worries, I’ll just get a new pair.”

“Great.”

He nods, starting down the alley. He knows you well enough to understand that you don’t want to say goodbye, not when you know you’re saying goodbye to how things were before. Instead, he just calls over his shoulder.

“See you at Christmas?”

“Why even come back?”

“Right,” he chuckles. “I wanna see your gift next time, though.”

Then he leaves, and he doesn’t look at you again. You suppose he’s been trained to do that, but then again, you can’t remember a time where he has looked back at you, anyway. He’s never looked back at anyone before the end.

He comes home every Christmas, just like he promised.

Each time he does, he drags you out to a cabin outside of town, one so hidden in the woods that you almost thought he built it, and he fucks you like he missed you before he was gone. Not enough to leave the Fatui, but enough to come home once in a while. And once in a while is all you're gonna get, so you don't let it go.

He comes home, tells his family all about his life as a businessman, a toy salesman you once heard, and then sneaks you out so you can love him as loud as you want. Then, you eat the fish you bring, he tells you how much he missed the sturgeon in Morepesok, and he's gone before the sun comes up.

Childe lets you go with a tired breath, watching the fire beat against your glistening skin as you sit on the edge of the bed. The warmth of him courses through you like a river current and you fix your hair with weak hands, biting the tie that was around your wrist. “I feel your eyes, you’re not subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he says simply. “You’re beautiful. More beautiful now.”

“You said that last year.”

“Next year, too.”

You roll your eyes, back straightening when he looms behind you, his naked body against yours. His hand sneaks around your waist and his lips press against your shoulder blade, kissing until he gets to the juncture of your neck and collarbone.

“Ajax,”

“I know,” he says against your skin, “gotta eat.”

“You’d think they would feed you in the castle.”

“Hardly a castle, sweetheart."

“That belt says otherwise,” you mumble, standing, making him let go. You pick up your underwear from the floor, too hot to wear anything else. “It’s custom.”

He snorts, flopping back down on the bed. “Birthday gift.”

“From who?”

“Ooh, jealous?”

“Of someone who doesn’t know who you are? No.”

Childe hums a laugh, giving a look in agreement to the ceiling that you catch out of the corner of your eye. He rests a hand on his chest, watching you sweat in the heat of the fireplace, smiling at the life he has for the next four hours.

He clears his raspy throat. “You finally wore it. The gift.” He snickers, “I only waited two years.”

You look over your shoulder at him, pulling your cami over your head. “I wasn’t gonna let money rot.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“What?”

“The stone. Do you know what it is?”

You stare, face hot. You’re partially embarrassed to not know, never having left Snezhnaya and let alone your town, but you’re curious enough to shake your head. Childe smiles like he knows that you wish you knew enough to say yes.

(You hate that he’s travelled the world you used to tell him you dreamt about. The one you made him dream about, too.)

He scoots up to lean against the headboard, and you take the invitation to come back to the bed. You crawl onto the mattress again, sitting beside him as he moves the clasp of the necklace to the back of your neck, and the stone to the front.

“They call it Cor Lapis,” he says, “it’s in Liyue.”

“Oh.”

He lets go. “It’s not rare, but I like it.”

“You spend a lot of time in Liyue, it makes sense.”

“So you do read my letters,” he says with a grin, cocking his head and holding your hand. “What else do I say?”

“What about the necklace?”

“Huh?”

“If it’s not rare, why get a custom-made necklace?” you ask. “Expensive for such a simple stone.”

Childe’s eyes drop back down to the necklace, holding it out from your neck and in line with the light of the bedside table lamp. It glitters in his eyes and you’re sure it does in yours.

“Cor Lapis is dull,” he tells you. “It doesn’t actually glow until it’s cracked open.”

You look at the cut edges of the stone, framed in gold. It’s small, but it’s something that looks like Childe gave it to you. When your mother saw it, she said it was beautiful and asked when he was home last.

You focus on the fingers that hold it.

“I found it a lot like you,” he says, his voice lower, his eyes finally looking up to face you head-on. “Heart of gold.”

“I don’t need to be cracked open."

“You have been,” he corrects, “you are right now.”

He’s right. He’s so fucking right that it hurts your head to think about and hurts your chest to acknowledge.

Childe’s hand runs up and under your shirt, showing your skin. “And you’re glowing.”

You sit in the silence inside your open ribs and give him a small smile, standing up to shake his hand off of you.

“I’ll let you tell me that next winter, too.”

Next Christmas, you stay in bed. Childe cradles your necklace again but doesn’t tell you about Liyue because you don’t ask, too proud to ask twice.

Instead, you lay against his chest, littered with brand new scars you didn’t see last time. Some you watch, others you look away from because they run too deep for you to need to know how he got them. Year by year, you get more quiet.

Childe does, too. He hasn’t lost his boyish charm but it shares his body with something else now.

“Why don’t you come home before Christmas?” you ask. “Once, even. Teucer’s birthday?”

“It’s not that easy. If it was, I’d be there for every birthday. Yours, theirs.”

You purse your lips, rolling onto your back to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. “Right,” you whisper.

“Don’t do that,”

“Why do you say that like I’m fishing for empathy?” you ask casually, scoffing a laugh. “You used to have some, you know. Before you were a fucking hitman.”

“You have no problem fucking said hitman, so please, if you now raise any sudden changes of heart, I should probably know.”

You look at him coldly and he shakes his head. “It’s not like I want to hurt you.”

His arm gets heavier around you, weighing you down against his side. You fight it off when you sit up, turning to look down at him. Déjà vu washes over you both.

“Do you honestly think that I’m talking about me?” you say through laughs. “I’ve gotten used to your wounds, Ajax, it’s not about me.”

“I—”

“How about your family?” you say. It shakes the cabin walls, even though you weren’t loud at all. “You have younger siblings who idolize you and older ones who know better than what you tell them. Do you think they’re dumb?”

He stares at you. You ask, “You remember them, don’t you?”

“I remember my siblings, yes, thank you for aski—”

“Did you know Teucer made a sword?”

Childe’s next sentence fades into a sigh, and his lips purse as he shakes his head.

You cross your arms. “It looks just like yours.”

“Brotherly love, toys are harmless.”

“Who do you think will stitch his eyebrow? Or sneak him into the bathroom after he comes down from his first kill—”

“I never asked you to be my keeper,” Childe says, the grip on your hand tighter than it was before.

“And look how it turned out, anyway.”

Childe leans back against the bed frame and thin pillows he’s stacked up, looking anywhere but at you.

He’s older now and hardened into someone you can’t recognize, but he resembles a lot of the boy he was born as. He still doesn’t look you in the eye when he apologizes, not when he means it.

“Do you want me to leave?”

You stand, finding your clothes on the floor. You’re too hot, so you put on your underwear and shirt and leave it at that. “I brought fish. Rest while you can.”

It’s July, and Childe comes back to Morepesok in the middle of a blizzard.

Glasses rattle in behind the bar and you dry the ones from the sink, since the hot water ran out an hour ago. The pub’s empty but your shift still stands, even though no one dares to go outside when the storms are this bad, and it’s only you and a few stragglers left to pray the windows don’t shatter when the breeze hits you from the coast.

Every time you catch yourself in the counter’s reflection, you see your necklace, and you wonder what the beaches in Liyue are like. You can’t swim here without freezing to death and you can’t dream in relentless snow, so you let yourself think of him sometimes.

(Warm, swimming in streams. You wonder if he ever got over his fear of drowning when he realized he wouldn’t sink.)

Air whistles through old panels and teases the fire that burns in the seating area, and there’s a quiet hum of voices that dim the crackle of the logs you throw in every half-hour. A glass slides off the counter and breaks in the wind.

You gasp and jump, stepping back, stepping forward when you hit something — someone. You turn around and Childe stares back, snow on his eyelashes and his hair damp from hail and the sweat beneath his hat.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, you’re so welcoming. Need help?”

You scoff, kneeling with a brush and pan, guiding the glass back into a pile. You don’t answer his question. “They don’t really mean it when they say 'Christmas in July,' you know.”

“You were the one who told me to visit more, right?”

You nod, standing again, dumping the glass into a bin. “Outside the bar, staff only."

Childe slowly raises his hands in surrender, stepping quietly out from the back and rounding to face you again. He leans on the freezing counters, looking around the room. “You work here?”

“A normal person job, yes.”

“So boring.”

“Why’d you come back?” you ask, going back to washing glasses. “When do you leave?”

Please, stay. Just for once, stay.

“Tomorrow.”

“Do they ever let you off your leash for more than a day? Or do you just hate snowstorms that much now?”

“They have gotten worse since I’ve been gone,”

“Or you’ve just been gone long enough to forget where you come from,” you suggest, glancing up at him again. “The Fatui do still operate here, right?”

“Lower your voice, eh?”

“Sorry. Forgot.”

Childe purses his lips, looking around again. He lowers his head. “The cabin’s open.”

“There’s no way we can make it through the trees blind.”

“I can get us there.”

“Do you remember you got lost in those woods once?”

He grins when you look up. “Well, you know you don’t learn without getting lost. I know them now.”

You crack a tiny smile back, one that probably gives him way too much hope. He watches you put glasses away, he relaxes when he sees the necklace you still wear; even if you started wearing it two years late.

You shake your head. “I’m not coming to the cabin.”

“Why’s that?”

“You should spend the day you have with your family.”

“You—”

“Don’t make things weird.”

The moment is bittersweet and Childe isn’t stupid enough to challenge it, so he just laughs. You try to but it comes out funny.

“So that’s it?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “It’s always been your decision, not mine.”

And nothing you have ever done has been anything I’ve wanted.

Childe nods, biting his cheek. He knows that people who live in the woods often die there, too. He never really made it out. “Show me out, then?”

You give in, walking him the short distance to the door. He rests with his hand on the knob, gently moving you away from the door so the breeze doesn’t freeze you in place. He tugs his hat on and notices the gloves he gave you years ago hang by your coat on the standing rack.

“When should I come back?”

He watches you breathe in, he watches you breathe out. “Come back when you’re coming home.”

Childe doesn’t try to reason or to ask what you mean, because he knows what you mean.

Don’t.

With a nod, he smiles. It shows with a weakness that no Harbinger should still have with them; you think this might be the death of it.

“I’ll see you around, then.” He opens the door.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Bye, Childe.”

The door shuts. You don’t hear the snow crunching beneath his feet until a few seconds later, and you keep your ear against the door until you don’t hear them anymore.

Before he was ever Tartaglia, Childe, eleventh of the Harbingers, his home was in the woods he got lost in. Not underground, but in a cabin, with strong windows and shutters the colour of your eyes.

It’s the second Christmas you haven’t seen Childe or the woods. You haven’t checked if he’s stayed there and the stories Teucer tells you are old, but there’s a chance he’s still burning a fire and laying in bed, glowing with heat.

Either Childe hasn’t come back, or he just hasn’t told you he has. Either way, you don't make an effort to know.

Somewhere in Liyue, there’s an ore mine with your name carved above the entrance. The men talk about you when they wheel out carts of jade and ore, wondering how you reached so far up to tell them you were there.

In Mondstadt, an outpost sings a folk tune about a girl who heals wounded soldiers.

In Inazuma, a village calls a seashell by your name. It started with the kids, who said a man from a different place told them all about it. An expert on it, they said. They haven’t called it anything else since.

In Sumeru, your laugh runs through the river.

In Natlan, a painting hangs in a bar of a woman dressed in fire, a ribbon on her wrist and her hair everywhere else. When asked, the artist says he was inspired by a man who spoke of a girl with a heart of gold.

In Fontaine, they serve grilled sturgeon, only cooked by wooden stove.

Childe sits down in a town in Snezhnaya, far away from Morepesok, and he sits in front of five kids who look just like the ones back home. Freezing, and curious.

He lets them fawn over his attire, bug him for all he’s worth while they’re tucked inside of a barn to avoid the cold. He answers every question about his job selling toys with enthusiasm and without guilt, promising to someday come back with some for them. Then, they ask him to tell them a story — one they haven’t heard before.

Somewhere in Snezhnaya, far away from Morepesok, a tale is told about a girl who travelled the world.

#this was so random #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe angst #childe x reader angst #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #kit writes

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year

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Hi! I love your writing style and I'd love to see your take on the villain's backstory as they tell the tale of their parent getting murdered by the king for having or using magic when it's banned. Have a lovely day :)

"Are you traumatised, little princeling?" the villain asked.

The teasing nickname felt more like a nightmare now; the memories awash with betrayal and gore.

They villain settled themselves down on the throne; all elegant menace and crackling power. The crown that formed on their head was a thing of magic, shimmering and uncanny, swallowing light. It matched the pitiless hollows of the villain's eyes.

The prince's jaw clenched, his breathing hard and ragged. Bile clawed up his throat. He pushed himself shakily up off the ground, onto his knees. He was surprised he got that far. His whole body trembled.

But everyone else...

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "You got what you wanted. Kill me too."

The villain smiled, faintly, and considered him. There wasn't so much as a speck of blood on them but the polished throne room floor and the prince's hands were slick with it.

"You didn't answer my question, little princeling."

The prince bared his teeth, but couldn't quite master diplomacy in that moment. It was all he could do not to scream, or cry. "Who wouldn't be? You - you-" He couldn't quite articulate the horror of it. He closed his eyes but the memories flashed through his mind all the same.

His body moving through the throne room on someone else's command. A puppet of a prince. A slaughterer.

The magic had felt so good while it ensnared him, even as it was saturated by the nauseous inability to stop, the terror, the merciless guilt.

"You're a monster," the prince rasped.

His hands curled into fists. In an instant he was on his feet after all, body broken, sword in hand as he charged towards the villain.

He got as far as getting the tip of his blade to the villain's throat, and then his body locked. He could not kill nor retreat, nor do much of anything at all. Frozen.

The villain blinked at him, lazily almost, a they tipped their head back like the sword was actually a threat. No. Not lazy. It affected laziness, but it was...

"I was traumatized," the villain said, in the same light and mocking tone of voice as before, "when your father killed mine."

Their eyes met.

The prince willed his hand to move, to cut, to kill.

He didn't. He couldn't.

"And that excuses all of this?" the prince managed. "I am not my father. I am not - I wasn't even alive - I would have -".

The villain could have waited, could have let an old man die with some dignity, could have taken a higher ground, and the world would have changed. The change didn't have to be taken in blood and pain.

The prince didn't even agree with the magic laws. Ever since he'd met the monster in front of him, he'd...

He'd heard bits of the story before. Not the king, but some random attackers in some village, and how the villain had escaped only because the attackers had thought them a child dead already. How the magic had saved them.

The prince had thought of phoenixes, then. He should have thought of the ashes.

The villain flicked a dismissive hand and the magic curling around the prince yanked his arms back behind his back, roughly, forcing him to let go of the blade. It hit the ground with a clatter.

The prince landed on his knees, a stifled cry of pain on his lips, tears stinging in his eyes. Not for the hurt of it, not for that small bit of control, but all the rest.

The villain settled a clean hand atop the prince's dishevelled head, like a cruel and gentle benediction.

"Of course," the villain said, as if the prince hadn't spoken, "he didn't do it personally. A man like your father never bloodied his own hands when he could use someone else's. It was his guards. He..." The villain wet his lips, "watched though. I think it made him strong, killing magic users. A man-god, clinging to his false power, when he'd never even tasted what real magic felt like. Real power."

The villain's gaze flicked almost idly around the room, around all the royal guard - the prince's friends and mentors and protectors - who the prince's puppet body had killed.

The prince swallowed. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.

The magic, that taste of real magic, still swirled around him. Oppressive and heady and awful and enticing. Dangerous.

The villain's attention fixed on him again. They caressed the prince's cheek as the prince shuddered.

"So, you understand, that if this was personal, it was only personal in the way that it was personal to your father," the villain said softly. "You were born to this and it was always going to be your fate."

"Then kill me for what I was born for. Be just like he was!"

"I did think you were just like him when we first met." The villain's hand moved down further still, wrapping almost curiously around the prince's throat. "But you've proven quite interesting. Not enough to change anything, but..." the villain shrugged.

The prince flinched, recoiled. "I wish I'd been more like him. Then I would have killed you before you ever did this. Before you even got the chance!"

The villain laughed. The sound didn't reach those eyes. The prince had seen the sadness in them, the loss, and he'd thought...well, it all felt stupid what he'd thought, with all the devastation behind them, with that terrible crown twinkling abyssal night atop of the villain's head.

The prince had been told since the moment he was born that magic was dangerous, that magic users were too dangerous to live. He'd thought there was a middle ground. He'd thought that it couldn't be all of them.

Maybe it wasn't all of them. But maybe it only took one. Maybe that was what his father had known when he'd ordered the deaths of two palace gardeners and their five year old.

The hate tasted like rot and hellfire in his mouth, but it felt better than the grief. The howling pit of what he'd done. Of what the villain had made him do.

"I should have killed you." The tears came then; wracking, poisonous things that he didn't want the villain to see and enjoy, but which he couldn't quite stop. "I should have killed you before you killed all of them."

"You know, my little princeling." The villain pressed the prince's head against their lap; a gross caricature of comfort, and bowed their head down too to whisper. "I remember thinking exactly the same thing. Look how far we've both come."

#antagonist and protagonist #villains #magic #writing #creative writing #fic #ficlet #story #short story #villain #fantasy

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witchthewriter · 8 months

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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I didn’t specify if reader was Targaryen, but reader is of the blood of Old Valyria as they have their own dragon.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Your wedding was a traditional one, from Old Valyria. The sharing of blood (cut each other’s lips with a fine blade of dragonglass), the drinking of special wine.

・You both wore the traditional wedding gowns of Old Valyria; white tinged with red that blended to the bodice

・Rhaenyra knew she was going to marry you the moment you met. But you did not have the same opinion of her. You thought she was haughty and much too hot-headed.

・And yet, over time you got to know her. You got to know the real Rhaenyra.

・Your relationship started as a best friends with benefits. It was a secret; sneaking into one another’s rooms and trying not to get caught in the mornings.

・No one was supposed to know but some started to figure it out - Rhaenyra still had the mindset that she was royalty and nothing bad could happen to her. It was an arrogance that Alicent was right about - but every royal has it.

・It wasn’t until you had been sent home that Rhaenyra changed

・In those years you were gone, and where you found Silverwing, Rhaenyra cut a deal with her father.

・Since you had bonded with the mighty and gracious Silvering, the King saw you in a different light. But all he wanted was the best for his daughter.

・With you having your own dragon, the beautiful mount Silverwing, who was originally bonded to the Good Queen Alysanne. She was known as one of the greatest Targaryen Queens ever to exist and brought about a lot of good change, specifically for women in Westeros.

・For you to have bonded with Silverwing, she had to see you as worthy. Very worthy. And as a person who was destined for greatness.

・So, the King knew this as well. Viserys understood how important it was that he keep you close to the council. Because this solidified the fact that you were going to do amazing things.

・And that meant he had to physically have you close as well.

・He allowed you back into King’s Landing, to Dragonstone, to anywhere near his daughter

・And your relationship grew.

・So much so that you had a hidden wedding on Dragonstone, where Viserys named Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone (a great honour). Which gave you a whole castle to do as you pleased.

・Including secretly getting married.

・You adore her hair. The length, the colour, the braids the servants create. You got a particularly skilled servant to teach you how to do them

・And then you surprised Rhaenyra by brushing and braiding her hair the next day. She was so happy that she couldn’t stop smiling.

・You have your own cute relationship with Syrax. Although it’s forbidden for bonded dragon riders to ride other dragons, that doesn’t mean you can’t form a connection with another dragon.

・Sassy, fierce but affectionate - that’s how you see Syrax.

・And since Silverwing was such an open-minded, gracious and kind dragon (the kindest one there ever was), she never minds when you talk to Syrax

・You never liked the thought of keeping Silverwing in the Dragonpit whenever you visited King’s Landing. But Rhaenyra promised you that nothing would happen. (Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, but you didn’t like knowing that men with pointy spears might hurt her)

・You had a strong bond with your dragon, and it was almost like whenever one of you got hurt, the other could feel it. You wondered if Good Queen Alysanne felt it as well?

𝑰𝒇 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝑭𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆/𝑭𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈:

・Then your marriage between Rhaenyra and yourself is hidden

・Everyone thinks you’re just really good friends

・And Alicent was very jealous of the relationship between the two of you. It’s what she wanted.

・So the tension between the Blacks and the Greens grew even more (while you were away - you had been gone a long time. 10 years, and in those years Rhaenyra had her sons with Harwin)

・Laenor knew of your relationship and was happy to play along as the husband in official events

・You have a different relationship with each of Rhaenyra’s sons. With Jace, it’s a tad stiff, since he’s caught on to the truth. But you’ve asked him if he wanted to meet Silverwing and have a fly with you. The first few times he denied, and Rhaenyra was so upset.

・But after making him laugh and standing up for him in front of his cousins, he grew warmer to you.

・And then he agreed and it solidified your relationship with Jace as protector.

・With Luke, that boy was the sweetest thing to ever exist. He brought both you and Rhaenyra flowers. And often asked to see Silverwing. Even though all three boys had dragons of their own, none were trained like yours. Who was absolutely brilliant with other people.

・Silverwing is actually a very social dragon and loves to be in conversations and to be doted over.

・Oh and she absolutely adores being petted, to the point that she has a favourite spot to be rubbed.

・And little Joffrey, oh he was so young when you first met him. He sees you already as another mother, even if you haven’t said to think of you as that.

・You had said to the boys - I will always be there for you. I will protect you no matter what, and whatever problems you have, you can come to me.

𝑰𝒇 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒆/𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒆𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈:

・Then as the same as above, when you were sent away, it was for a long long time.

・Rhaenyra had her three boys with Harwin, but his place was effectively taken by you when he died.

・You weren’t like Criston Cole, where you had to have a true marriage to Rhaenyra. You were happy being her ... side piece.

・But Laenor could see how happy Rhaenyra was with you, how you two would be the perfect King and Queen of Westeros.

・So, he asked Rhaenyra to help him run away with his lover and make it look like he had been killed.

・She agreed, only because she loved you so much.

・When you had heard, you were shocked. Shocked that you weren’t consulted or included. That they had lied to you.

“I’m telling you now, though!”

“But you were sneaking behind my back. And now your aunt has no children!”

・It took a few days but you forgave her. Only because you realised how far she would go to have you. As her King.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Give Me All Your Love by Alabama Shakes

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

"You wear the pants in this relationship" (You say to Rhaenyra) x "oh I wish, I cannot control you at all" (She replies back)

Two damaged, vulnerable people, swearing to each other no matter what

Accidental confession during heat of the moment/fight.

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Undying Loyalty

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 🔞 no one under 18 read past this point!

・Your wedding night was like any other - you had been entranced with each other from the very first time you met.

・Secretly meeting in each other’s bedrooms since you were 18, you knew one another’s bodies well.

・You knew what the other liked, what names you liked to be called and how you lusted to be touched

・Rhaenyra liked to be both dominant and submissive; letting you take control, biting her neck as she rode you, doing what she was told, waiting for your commands.

・And other times she liked to pull your hair and hear her name shouted from your mouth

・She loves to rut against your body, any part of your body. Especially if you’ve been in a fight, and she wants to make it up to you or wants you to make it up to her.

・Rhaenyra loves her nipples played with - especially them being sucked and nibbled on. She has the most glorious pink, puffy breasts that you day dream about often.

・They’re the same colour as her lips, as well as her cunt. On some days you’ll back her against the wall in your bedrooms and widen her legs and pull up her dress

・Once your mouth connects with her sex, she melts and all the worries fade away

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apocalypseyoshia · 1 month

Text

I can’t stop thinking about yandere dad Kars with a energetic kid reader so fuck uni work I’m going to write it

Yandere dad kars x reader

(Small update; i wrote this at 4 am in a melatonin high soo if you see any mistakes, no you don’t.)

You where probably a child found by his tribe after a fight. None of the elders thought you should stay, you where from a different tribe, you where their enemy, you shouldn’t have the luxury of living on especially when your tribe had lost.

Kars back then was a fighter he had earned himself a high rank high enough where it’s respectable but he still got to fight on the battlefield, he had heard of your existence but he was neutral on the matter, after all why would he care about an existence of a child? That is until he had met you.

You where crying for hours with no sign of stopping anytime soon, he was polishing off his weapons and your insufferable crying had gotten to him, how bad is it to stop a child from crying? Why is it taking this long? how come your tiny vocal cords haven’t given up?

All these questions had infuriated him so he went to see for himself and what he saw shocked him, you had been crying your little lungs out, to the point where your face was practically blue. He had to respect how strong you where to hold out like that.

He calmly walked over to you and the moment you saw him your cry’s died down till they eventually disappeared, maybe it’s because kars reminded you of your own father or you felt he had no malicious intent towards you unlike more than half of the tribe, but it didn’t matter you had finally stopped crying and the people who were taking care of you had to seize the opportunity.

You know that feeling that first time father’s say they feel after holding their child for the first time, as if they wanted to protect them from the cruel cold world, like they always wanted to keep them by their side and never let them leave? now multiply that feeling by an unimaginable number that was how kars felt as he held you for the first time.

While kars held you for the first time while the others had trying to get you to eat since from when you came to them till now you had not eaten a thing. kars had to admit after finding this out he was angry, no anger wasn’t even close to what he was feeling. I mean how absolutely how could they let a baby as small as you go hungry! Do they just not have a working brain are they stupid! yea that’s it they are all Incompetent he can’t let them take care of you, if he did he would be a horrible fath- caretaker he meant caretaker.

He took the spoon from them and looked at them angrily as of to say ‘don’t you dare come near us’ they took the hint and took a step back to scared to interrupt him, they knew better. Kars slowly being to feed you, you where small on the edge of malnourishment, he fed you even more than necessary he didn’t want to see you that malnourishment ever again he would never let that happen.

To the others distain he had grown fond of you, assigning himself as your father, and god as your father he made everything so much harder to deal with. he was insisted on feeding you, he refused to let you sleep away from him and it took you longer to walk because he had thought that you should just rely on him, the other kids where five and running, while you where five and learning how to stand up without grabbing onto something.

You learned everything late because your father was scared of you growing up too fast, he was definitely the reason you where held back in development, many tried to convince him to let you learn by yourself but they where always met with a swift cut from one of his blades, most of the time it wasn’t lethal but it was deep enough to hurt… most of the time

But he never took anything out on you, you didn’t know better, you where a child, his helpless, weak, soft child, how could he ever even think about taking it out on you?

You grew up to be a vary curious, energetic child with vary strong ideologies. You wanted to explore and hunt, look around and discover. You where the closet with satans and you often bonded over your shared interest in humanity, not that your father ever let you look into your interest.

“It’s too dangerous, human’s are savage creatures that have no respect for evaluation.” Why did he have to bring up the same point again and again was beyond you, but it didn’t stop you from snooping, taking books from the elders, taking anything that was left behind from human travelers, any information you could get your hands on

But unfortunately your father caught you a couple of times (thanks Esidsi) and he punished you accordingly, a month of not going out without him, he also might have fought the elders, how could they give you a book about human?! They should know better than to give a child ideas, as for all your little trinkets consider them confiscated

As you got older it seemed to be harder and harder to keep you in check, you could no longer stay still and your absurd interest in humans and other feeble creatures showed nothing but growth, that was until they where instoned…

After they where reawakened, the first thing kars did was look for you and check on you whilst Esidesi and wammu dealt with the pest’s (Joseph and Caesar), after they left and found a place to lay low for a few days, as they tried to understand what had happened in the years they where cemented in stone

Kars wasn’t interested in the human’s until he found out they where the reason for his ‘hibernation’, after he figured it out he was beyond pissed, how dare they! They could have taken you away from your father, you could have been raised by those idiots from the tribe, you where too fragile for that! And those idiots didn’t know how to take care of you, not like how your father does.

You could have been hurt or even worse you could have left him completely! He was going to make them pay. You however where thrilled! Just look at all the new invention’s, so many bright lights and vibrant colors! It was pure bliss, you needed to see more

#platonic yandere jjba #jjba drabble #jjba x reader #jjba kars #fluff #sort of #platonic yandere #gn reader #child reader #no romantic relationships #yandere jjba #yandere jojos bizarre adventure #platonic Jjba

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frankcastleonlyfans · 2 years

Note

Dad!Daemon as a disciplinarian and head of household

Do you think he has a hands on or off approach to parenting and discipline/teaching? (From the last ep it was def hands off … actually neglect but idk what the writers were doing). And how do you think he works with his partner in teaching and raising their children? Does he run his family with his same aggressive-“my way or the Highway”-behavior he shows in his earlier years or has children made him do a 180?

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. i hope you like it!

author's note: I'm in writing process of other dad!daemon requests stuff, but listen, your idea is AMAZING!!! And it fits really well in headcanon format. So here's what I think about Daemon's parenting.

gif by @daenerys-stormborn

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

During your first pregnancy, Daemon found himself in a crisis.

He had no idea how to be a father.

He was a ruthless warrior, for gods' sake! He never took care of children before.

He wasted time trying to remember some of his brother's actions when Rhaenyra was young, but that was no example for him.

Viserys is a king, so it was never expected of him to take care of his daughter, or even educate her. And he never did.

Daemon remembers his father really well. He was 20 when Baelon passed away, and that's the only example of parenting he had.

Daemon knew in his heart he had a great father, and that's what he wanted to be for his children.

You were a few moons away from giving birth, and your husband couldn't stop babbling about baby names, and picking a good dragon egg to place in the crib, and fantasizing about taking the child to meet Caraxes, and...

Honestly, you couldn't wait for the child to be born.

And when Rhaegon finally arrived into your life, Daemon became everything he said he would be.

He was terrified at first. The man had no idea how to hold a child, he only held swords in his entire life.

But eventually he figured it was easier than it looked like.

Years later, Daemon learned that taking care of a child and raising a child are two completely different things.

Rhaegon was three when you had your baby girl, Alyssa.

Daemon fell in love. And when her little hands touched his face for the first time, he felt loved.

The Rogue Prince couldn't be burned by fire, but time was the thing that made his heart ache.

Alyssa was growing up quickly, and Daemon felt the years passing by like a sharp valyrian blade cutting through his skin.

In the eyes of her father, Alyssa Targaryen was perfect. She had your beauty, your delicacy, but she also had his temper.

"But I told you not to play in the dragonpit!" Daemon scolded her while washing her dust stained platinum hair.

"Aegon said it would be fun!" Alyssa retorted.

"Dreamfyre is not to play with, she could have burned you. And, you shouldn't be with Aegon, I don't want you near him again. He's much older than you."

"But why is it a problem?" The little girl protested.

"Because I said so."

"But why?! Aegon is funny, and Rhaegon doesn't let me play with him and Luke and Jace. At least Aegon doesn't make me wanna smack his face like Rhaegon does." Alyssa murmured.

"Alyssa, don't say that! And certainly, do not hurt your brother. Listen, I'm gonna talk to him, okay? But you need to promise me that you'll never listen to Aegon again. Do not trust that kid, none of them."

Daemon couldn't bear the thought of his eight year old daughter hanging around the thirteen year old prince. He knew Aegon was some kind of pervert, and he did not wanted that boy near his little girl.

Daemon never lost his temper with his kids.

He feared that someday they would be scared of him.

But he knew how to lecture his children.

"Your sister told me you don't let her play with you and Rhaenyra's boys. Mind tell me why's that?"

"She's a girl! She could be playing with Helaena, why do I have to play with her?" Rhaegon rolled his eyes.

"Because she is your sis– Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Daemon stared at his son with a menacing gaze that immediately made the boy shake.

"N-no...?"

"I think you did. I think you rolled your eyes at me, Rhaegon." Daemon gave one step ahead, and his giant form towered the boy's body.

"I'm sorry, father. I'll ask Alyssa to play with Jace, Luke and me."

"You better, boy." Daemon said with a stern voice before leaving the room.

You tried not to interfere in Daemon's way of scolding the kids, but if you thought he was being too much, then you would say something.

Sometimes he would make the children eat alone in their chambers if they'd misbehave.

Sometimes he would make them do chores.

Sometimes he would just ground them in their rooms.

But he never, ever, raised his hand to touch one of his children.

Daemon had killed so many men in battle, but had never hurt a child in his whole life. He intended to stay that way.

Daemon Targaryen could be many terrible things, but he certainly was not a bad father.

He would rather die before hurting one of his children.

And when Maegon was born, he couldn't wait to go through the beginning of parenting all over again.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen imagines #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen drabble #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au #dad!daemon targaryen au

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dragonking10 · 5 months

Text

Jaune The Black Knight

An AU where Jaune and Ruby decided to say Fuck the world, got married after going rogue (they left Beacon after being betrayed by their friends) and had a daughter together named Olivia.

Salem was watching everything through her Grimm and decided to personally invite them to join her faction in turn they will get their revenge. With nowhere else to go they accepted now Ruby leads a battalion of Grimm with Jaune as her Second in Command.

And yes Salem cares about these two adorkable couple and vowed to never let anyone hurt them ever again.

I have baffled long enough, let's get this show on the road.

This particular day Salem ordered for Ruby to get some needed rest after capturing a few villages in her name, Jaune got up from bed and got ready for another day of spreading fear around the world

He showered, brushed his teeth, puts on his black armor, his wife changed Crocea Mor's color scheme, instead of a white shield it's now black with a gold outline and their combined family symbol, instead of a blue hilt it's now blood red, instead of a silver blade it's now a black sword (like the one Sokka made from Avatar the Last Airbender)(As for Jaune's armor, it's the Rusted Knight armor but it's polished and the color is black and gold, helmet included)

Jaune walks into the kitchen where his wife made him some food to go, he grabbed the bag, kissed his wife and turned to leave when suddenly his wife stopped him

Ruby: Wait Jaune, do you know what day it is?

Jaune: Uh... Wednesday?

Ruby: No dummy it's take your daughter to work day!

Jaune: Uh I don't think it's a good idea to bring our daughter to our kind of work, at least not yet.

Ruby: I know, but she has been wanting to come with us for a while and since it's take your daughter to work day I figured now is the best time, plus she'd have my big strong dark knight as her protector~.

Jaune: Well yeah but-

Ruby caressed his face: Jaune you RoseArc-promised.

Jaune sighed: I did didn't I?

3 Hours Later

The scene shows a metal door to one of Atlesian's military bases exploded with Jaune rushes in while holding his daughter's hand but hit his head on the top of the door-way

Jaune holds his head for a second before activating his shield protecting his daughter amd himself from the bullets from the AK's

Jaune: Keep your head down Olvia!

Olivia holding a stuffed Ursa toy: Okay daddy-Whoa!

Jaune quickly dragged Olivia to cover but Olivia lost grip of her best friend.

Olivia: MR. CUZZYBOTTOM!!!

Olivia was about to run out to grab her friend but her father stopped her

Jaune looked down to his daughter and saw her pointing at her stuffed animal which is laying on the ground near the Atlesian Knights

Jaune sighs and looks at Olivia: I'll get him, you stay here where it's safe.

Jaune rushes out of cover, raised his shield and charged at the robot knights

Jaune quckly cut and sliced through the knights, grabbed the toy and rushed back to his daughter

Jaune out of breath and his daughter her toy: Here you go baby.

Salem: Who's the little girl?

Jaune nervous: Oh Lord Salem! Uh... it's bring your daughter to work day and uh I'm sorry for bringing, but my wife says we barely had time to spend together and let's be honest she's right, okay she's right!

Salem:...

Jaune even more nervous laughs a bit: Do you have kids? Cause heh I mean they change your world.

Salem:...

Jaune facepalms and mutters: Ugh I'm probably gonna get either fired or killed for this but... Fuck it.

Jaune grabs his daughter's hand: I love my daughter!

Salem brought her fist to her chest and smiles a bit: That really hits me where I'd live.

Salem noticed a survivor and used her powers to grab his neck

Salem: What have you done with those plans!? Jaune here never gets time to spend with his daughter because of PEOPLE LIKE YOU!!!

Salem snaps the survivor's neck and quickly realized there was a child present

Salem raised her other hand to her mouth: I'm so sorry you had to see that.

Salem drops the body

Salem kneels down to Olivia's eye level: Are you having fun being at work with your father?

Olivia gets nervous because she doesn't like talking to strangers and hides her face behind her father's leg

Salem chuckles: I know I'm pretty scary.

LATER IN MENAGERIE

Jaune was holding his daughter's hand as he and a White Fang goon was patroling a town looking for their targets when suddenly they come across an old man (Ozpin) wearing a hood with Weiss, Blake and Yang behind him also wearing hoods

Jaune stops them: Hold up you all seem familiar.

Ozpin uses his magic: These are not the students you're looking for.

Jaune: These are not the students we're looking for.

Olivia: Yes they are.

Ozpin: Move along

Jaune: Move along!

Ozpin and the three bitche- uh I mean students moved along going into the tavern for intel

Olivia: Daddy, You're not even trying!

Jaune: Honey, It's 110 DEGREES IN THIS CONTINENT!!! I CAN'T HEAR IN THIS THING!!! *points at his helmet* I WAS JUST REPEATING WHAT I THOUGHT THE GUY WAS SAYING! IT'S NOT LIKE IT'S MY OWN MOTHER FUCKING THOUGHT IN THE MATTER, OKAY!?

Olivia runs off crying and Jaune realized what he had done

Jaune feeling guilty and runs after his daughter: HONEY!!!

White Fang Goon: See? That's why I don't take my daugher to Jack Shit!

FEEL FREE TO ADD MORE IF YOU WANT

#rwby lancaster #lancaster #jaune x ruby #ruby x jaune #ruby rose x jaune arc #jaune arc x ruby rose #evil lancaster #rwby evil lancaster #villain jaune arc #villain ruby rose #villain lancaster #jaune arc #ruby rose #salem #Olivia RoseArc #rwby #lancaster4life #guess the reference

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mediapen · 2 years

Photo

and i think... i think that’s what a father is - a blade that never stops cutting.

the new york times, ‘carlos sainz jr learned early to be the hunter, not the prey’ ++ e. schwab, the invisible life of addie larue // marla miniamo, ‘sea salt’ // hermann hesse, demian // frank bidart, ‘the third hour of the night’ // katherine angel, daddy issues // [x] // leah horlick, for your own good // hera lindsay bird, ‘mirror traps’ // mario puzo, the godfather // andrea gibson, ‘i sing the body electric, especially when the power’s out’ // [x] // [x] // deaf havana, ‘caro padre’ // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // rachel mckibbens, blud // [x] // [x] // ocean vuong, ‘someday ill love ocean vuong’ // molly brodak, ‘bee in jar’ // eleanor hsieh, ‘the last scene in the movie’ // andrea abi-karam, villainy // the national, ‘blank slate’ // rainer maria rilke in a letter to lou andreas-salomé // etel adnan, ‘untitled’ // [x] // [x] // [x] // myther, SPEAK FOR YOURSELF, OR SOMEONE ELSE WILL // [x] // [x] // rainer maria rilke, letters to benvenuta // richard siken, ‘little beast’ // erin slaughter, i will tell this story to the sun until you remember that you are the sun // [x] // sigmund freud, die traumdeutung // rachel mckibbens, blud // silas denver melvin - nov 4 2021 // desireé dallagiacomo, ‘origin story’ // james baldwin, ‘they can’t turn back’ // [x] // traci brimhall, come the slumberless to the land of nod // natalie diaz, ‘grief work’ // alain de botton, essays in love // [x] // richard siken, ‘the dislocated room’ // sylvie baumgartel, song of songs // ocean vuong, 'dear peter.’

#web weaving #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz sr #m #z #fuck it. WHAT use are the six versions of this in the drafts for a month. post #'he was too nice' 'bite or get bitten' 'that advice changed my career' [meets lando]. the thesis as written by a maybe-sports journalist #the successor to the Other One. which i will return to with another in-progress look at deifying the construct of your own father. love #literally the thing about doing this grunt work is i thought the spiritual parallel was charles/bobby. it's carlos/bobby. of course it is.#w

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cannibalpup · 2 years

Text

“And I think that’s what a father is / —a blade that never stops cutting.”

Desireé Dallagiacomo, Origin Story

#abigail hobbs #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal fan art #hannibal lecter #will graham #mine

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matts-k1tten · 2 months

Text

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝

summary: y/n’s life is a roller coaster and can never catch a break when she needs one. Until she meets the boy that easily calms her nerves who she thinks is the most perfect person in the world. But does she know his secret?

warnings: ‼️abusing‼️, ‼️mentions of s/h‼️, heavy angst, I think that’s abt it? Lemme know if i missed anything.

*Not proofread*

*No color coding this series*

———————

“Why do you always do this every night?!” I scream at my father.

“C-cause you’re a pathetic p-piece of shit and you’re ungrateful for every t-thing i’ve done for you!” My father yells back at me slurring his words his voice obviously laced with alcohol.

I stay quiet as he gets up from the single couch and now is face to face with me.

“Get. Out. My. Face.” I whisper sternly.

Now that he’s closer to me I can examine his features.

His mouth slightly parted as he breathes out his mouth onto my face letting me smell the alcohol in his breath, his eyes heavy as he stares at me.

“You don’t tell me what to do you fucking bitch!” He screams in my face and slaps me, his force pushing me down on the floor.

He leans over to me on the floor and grabs my collar.

“You’re the reason why your mother left because she knew how much of a fucking idiot you were!” He screams in my face.

I feel tears streaming down my down my face.

“That’s not true! She left because of you! Of how much of an alcoholic you are and how you get when you’re under the influence!” I yell my voice shaking.

His face changes. His breathing starts to pick up rapidly.

His eyes widen and I can see the rage build in his eyes.

He suddenly lunges at me and puts me in a chokehold.

My mouth falls open as i struggle to breathe as he squats above me. “See, look at you now under me looking like a helpless fool-“ he cuts himself off by chuckling subtly. “Why can’t you just leave my the fuck alone!” He yells in my face shaking me around like a rag doll.

I gather all my strength and kick him in his “sensitive” area. He immediately drops me and falls over holding his area.

I immediately gasp for air and skedaddle to my feet rushing upstairs to my room.

“I hate you! You piece of shi-“ I cut him off by slamming my door.

I lean against the door and sag down to the floor. I break into tears and bury my face in my knees.

I sob uncontrollably as I shake and start to hyperventilate.

Suddenly, I get this strong urge to hurt.

I drag myself to my nightstand and open the drawer. I pull out a small blade.

“This is wrong.” I whisper to myself.

I drop the blade back in the drawer and push it closed. I stand up and walk to my closet.

I need to distract myself. I thought to myself.

I grab a hoodie and a pair of cargos and get dressed. I grab my phone, wallet, and pepper spray and jump out my window.

I run away from my house without looking back. I just need to clear my head.

Crying while walking down the sidewalk of my street, I check the time. “7:09pm”

Still super early.

I continue walking and find some stray cats. I stop in my tracks and slowly bend down to pet them.

They accepted my affection and started rubbing against me, meowing.

They cheered me up a bit as I wipe away my tears and stand back up.

I was to the end of my street where there is a huge plaza across the street.

I walk to the plaza and walk into a Starbucks.

“Hello there! Welcome to Starbucks, what’s the name for the order?” The worker asks.

“Hello! Um the name for the order is Y/n and I’ll just take a strawberry açaí refresher and a muffin please and thank you.” I tell her.

“Will that be it today?” She asks. “Yes that is all.” I assure her.

“Okay! That’ll be $9.47, cash or credit?”

“Credit.” I say as i hand her my card. She swipes it and hands it back.

“Your order should be out soon have a goodnight!” she smiles. “You too!” I smile back and go to sit down at a table.

I pull out my phone as I wait for my order.

I look up hearing the most pretty voice i had ever heard. There he was. Standing there, the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth. Matt Sturniolo.

Matt is a guy from my school and is gorgeous, I’ve always had a thing for emo guys..

I stare at him with my mouth slightly parted.

He suddenly turns around and catches me staring, he looks concerned for a second but then smiles at me and sits at a table across the room from where I am.

“Order for Y/n!” The worker yells.

“Oh! That’s me! Thank you!” I say as grab it and walk back to my table.

I pull out my phone and start to mindlessly scroll through instagram. When 2 taps snap me back to reality.

I flinch and turn to the person who tapped me. It was Matt.

My eyes widened as he speaks.

“Hey is this seat taken?”

“N-no not at all.” I manage to get out. He smiles and sits across from me.

“You’re y/n, right?” He asks pointing at me. I nod stupidly with a smug smile not being able to form words.

He laughs and the sound send chills down my spine.

“I saw you looking at me earlier. I couldn’t help but wonder if you’re okay?” He asks.

My face visibly drops.

“What do you mean?” I reply. “I mean you have a black eye and your neck is really bruised.” He states pointing out my injuries.

“I-uh” I take a deep breath in. “It’s my father, he’s really abusive when he’s under the influence. It happens often when he drinks to much, he gets angry for no reason and picks a fight with me and it always ends physically.” I say as my mouth just spits out words.

I gasp.

“I-I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said anything!” I speak again looking at him.

He looks shocked as he stares at me. He shakes his head, “No! it’s alright! I won’t tell anyone i’m just glad you told me I can help you.”

I look at him surprised. “How can you help me we just met.”

He stays silent.

“Umm. Hello?” I ask and seem to take him out the trance he was in.

He shakes his head. “I-I can help you and support you, when you wanna get out come call me!” He says smiling once he finished.

I smile back at him as he hands me his phone.

I take his phone and put my number in it, labeling me as “y/n the best person ever”

I hand his phone back. He takes a look at it and laughs.

He puts his phone back in his pocket.

“Let me walk you home.”

I laugh out loud as Matt tells me about this experience he had with a girl.

Matt laughs “A-and then she tried to lean in and kiss me and I leaned back and she fell!”

I smack his arm as we both laugh on the walk back home.

We continue walking when he brings up something unexpected.

“Y’know, I’ve always admired you from a far.” Matt speaks softly.

I look at him speechless.

He doesn’t look at me as we continue to walk.

“I-I-“ I clear my throat. “I’ve always admired you to, I never had the courage to talk to you.” I look back at the road.

I look at him and see a smile plastered on his face.

“Really?” He questions.

“Yes, I always thought you were so fi-“ I get cut off by a stray cat clawing at my feet.

Thank god for the cats, I was about to say something I would regret.

I quickly bend down to pet them as Matt watches me with a smirk.

Once I’m done petting them, they run away and I stand back up. I look over at Matt and see that smirk.

“What?” I say with a smile.

He just stares at me. “Nothing.” He replies and starts to walk again.

I quickly follow him.

“What were you gonna say back there?” He asks.

“Uh-“ I try to think of an excuse.

“Nothing.” I say as we finally make it to my house.

“I had a good time with you tonight.” He smiles down at me.

My face lights up.

“I had a great time with you too.” I say looking up at him.

We stare at each other for a moment.

“Well, I’ll see ya tomorrow!” He says and bends down to kiss my forehead.

My face immediately becomes flustered as I freeze not expecting that. He smiles and begins to walk away.

I look back at him walking until he disappears into the distance.

I smile to myself as I start climbing up to my window.

Once I get into my house I quickly change and hop into bed.

I get a text from him.

It reads “goodnight, cutie.”

I smile again and reply.

“goodnight, pretty boy.”

He laughs at my message and I turn off my phone.

He makes me feel so much better. I can’t wait to see him again.

————————————

a/n: soo first ever matt series?? dw abt watch me pt.3 yet guys i’m workin on it

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo angst

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imisskacchan · 9 months

Text

Little Princess

Part: 1

TW: Violence, Torture, Non-con Elements, Kidnapping

You were perched on your favorite cliff watching the sunrise over the sea. It was a foggy morning, sort of eerie. You had a feeling something amazing was going to happen today.

You didn’t know how wrong you were.

You lived on a small island, as the chiefs daughter you would have to marry someone from your village so his position could be inherited. Your mother and father had tried but after you they couldn’t have anymore children, much less the boy your father wanted so badly. You’ve sat through countless lectures about how it’s your duty to marry a strong man so he could lead your people.

Why couldn’t you lead them? Most of your time was spent watching your father. You knew the ins and outs of how he worked. You could be chief with your eyes closed, but no one would honor a woman as such. Your village was the only inhabitant of the island you settled on. The men didn’t have a lot of experience in fighting and defense. They mostly hunted, fished and tended to the crops so your people wouldn’t starve through the winter. So when you heard the battle horns sound you knew today would be anything but amazing.

You ran as fast as your legs would take you. You were on the far side of the island trying to make it back home. Your body was aching but you couldn’t stop, you had to go help.

You reached your village and stopped in your tracks.

Fire consumed the huts. Kids were screaming at the sight of their parents lying lifeless on the ground. It smelled of death and despair. You balled your fist, tears welled up in your eyes.

Who could do this? Why?

Your question was answered when you saw them walk from your house. It was the only one still standing. There were two men, a blonde and a red head. They were covered in blood and soot. The blood of your people. They did this, they killed your tribe and they were gonna pay.

You waited until the bigger one had left, leaving the blonde alone. You clutched your knife to your chest. Your breathing evened out and you took stance ready to attack. You peeked out from behind the tree you were using as cover. He was gone? You didn’t hear him leave, how did he vanish?

You made sure the coast was clear as you emerged from your hiding spot. You felt your heart break as you walked inside your house. Your mother laid dead at your father’s feet. Her neck was slit and her fingernails were torn out. Your father was sat at his throne. His fingers were cut and his body was littered with wounds.

They tortured them. What kind of monsters were they? You dropped to your knees and held your mothers lifeless body in your arms.

“Mama, i-i’m so sorry” you sobbed as you hugged her. “I should’ve been here, I could’ve... I could’ve saved you” you whispered into her hair.

“Tch, wouldn’t of made a difference princess. They’d still be dead.” A voice boomed behind you. You jumped up pulling out your knife. Turning around you saw vermillion eyes scanning your figure. It was the blonde from earlier.

“Who did this? Your chief?” The blonde just chuckled. You had enough, him being here was enough to sign his fate. You charged at the man pinning him to the ground. You caught him off guard. Even as you held your knife to his neck his smirk never left. He was mocking you. He didn’t think you would kill him.

“What’s so funny?” you spat gripping your blade tighter. “Nothing. Just thinking about what you said” he replied calmly. Confusion graced your features. What was he talking about? “If you were here we might’ve spared your family and your shitty ass village” he continued. “We’re here for you” Your face went blank at the realization. They tortured your parents when they wouldn’t tell where you were. You dropped your knife as you got off the man. You fell to your knees sobbing. You didn’t fight when you felt your hands being tied together. “Found you princess” the blonde whispered before throwing you over his shoulder.

The blonde struck a match and flicked it into your house. Flames engulfed it in minutes. You could only watch as your home was destroyed. The man brought you onboard their ship and dropped you on a bench. “Move and i’ll break your legs” he threatened walking off to talk to the red head he was with earlier. You couldn’t move if you wanted to. Even if you could where would you go? You had no one and nothing left. They took everything from you and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

You watched the shore disappear into the horizon. All that destruction, all that death, and for what? One meaningless life. Your head shot up when you heard someone say ‘chief’. It was the redhead... The blonde was their chief- he did this and you let him live. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

You tried to break out of your binds using the corner of the wooden bench you were placed on. The rope had almost snapped when you heard footsteps approaching you. You quickly moved your hands back to your lap hiding the frayed part. The blonde sat next to you, watching as your eyes fixed on the ocean again.

A green haired man with freckles and scars came to talk to ‘Bakugou’ before his attention strayed to you. “Ah you must be Y/N” he said cheerfully. “I’m so glad Kacchan found you” You stared at the man blankly.

Who is Kacchan?

“Oh I doubt he introduced himself, this is our chief. You’ve probably heard others refer to him as Bakugo but I call him Kacchan” he stated motioning to the blonde next to you.

“You’ll call me Katsuki” he said pulling your arms towards him to check your ropes. “Don’t touch me” you hissed trying to get out of his grip. He chuckled darkly before you heard the ‘crack’ of your wrist breaking. You let out a pained cry and gave in as he retied your arms.

“Whatever’s going on in that dumb little head of yours princess, I suggest you reconsider. Anything you try will fail and I have no problem punishing you. Fighting me only hurts yourself.” he said cockily.

Oh how you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

“Fuck you” you growled. You turned your back to him choosing to watch his comrades. These men walking around happily completely disregarding how they slaughtered an entire village of innocent people.

Disgusting.

#viking bakugo #bakugou x reader #minors dni #bakugo imagine

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