#and if i read through it a billion times to make sure i have everything i'll see a spot where i can make one of them say something else

[edgeofn1ght]

all you conceal, let out: ch. 1

After the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, in his grief, takes off on a mission half-cocked to find a lost holocron on Jedha. The next thing he knows, he's waking up injured on a planet he's never seen before, surrounded by calm and an unsettling quiet. Then, after passing out again, he wakes up in a strange home, patched, clean, and safe. And his savior is someone he loved who he didn't think he'd ever see again. Will he be able to get back to his own universe, and does he even want to?

i finally managed to fill another square on my @obikin-events bingo card well after the event was over 🫡 (i tried my best to finish it before it ended, but oh well)

alternate universe travel • obikin • 5.1k words • read on ao3 instead

Anakin knew his mission wouldn't be easy. He was warned against going, specifically going alone, but he insisted on taking it anyway. He needed to be away from the Temple, from everything that reminded him – 

“You still need time to mourn!” His own padawan had cried out in the hangar as he strode away from her, his responsibilities, and any bit of sanity he was still holding onto. 

Death is a natural part of life, he thought bitterly as he jogged up the Twilight's ramp, followed quickly by Artoo. I guess you forgot that lesson. 

If he had bothered to turn back, he would have seen Ahsoka's deeply troubled countenance, but he wasn't concerned about that. He had a mission to carry out – one that had been important to Obi-Wan. And he would see it through.

But as Anakin slowly lifted his head out of the dirt, he was no longer so sure he could see it through. He didn't even know where he was anymore. His head throbbed as he became aware of the blood rushing through his ears, drowning out all other noise. Not that there was much to hear anyway – no blaster fire, no clankers yelling in their tinny, robotic voices, no shouting clone troopers, no explosions… nothing.

As he became more aware of his being, his whole body ached, hurting so much he wouldn't have been surprised if every single bone in his body was broken. If Obi-Wan were here and could read his thoughts, he would have undoubtedly told him he was being dramatic.

‘Get up, my young padawan, you’re not so old yet.’ He heard his master’s voice so clearly, just as if he was standing right next to him, looking down at his old padawan with a wry grin and his hands on his hips. He frowned – wishing Obi-Wan was here wouldn’t make him appear, no matter how much Anakin wanted it. He turned his head left then right, searching for his ship, for Artoo… for anyone or anything, but he was completely alone. 

Anakin gingerly pushed himself up and made it halfway before his arms gave out and he dropped back into the muck with a disgusting squelch . And that, too, was different. Last he could recall, he had been on Jedha, surrounded by orange dust and sand as far as the eye could see, even inside the old temple ruins. But as he looked around now, there was nothing but vibrant multicolored trees, green grass, and a brilliant blue sky. 

So where the hell was here? 

Anakin really had no chance to think about his location or predicament because, unsurprisingly, he had passed out again. He didn’t know how long he was out, but when he awoke, he was still on the mystery planet and dusk was settling on the land. It was just as quiet as before, but now the silence was punctuated by the sound of night coming to life. 

He always found the night strangely unsettling when wasn't at home. Coruscant’s night never deviated from its day – the ecumenopolis was a constant hum of traffic and pulse of billions of lifeforms. And Tatooine’s night had been… well, when it wasn’t eerily silent, it was a howling sandstorm or some other form of danger such as raiders, Hutt cartels, or baying creatures that could eat you whole. 

He’d forgotten the true sound of silence, the feeling of it. The way it crept into your bones, enveloped your senses, and made you feel uneasy and cold. Not long after the war began, they all became quickly accustomed to being constantly surrounded by dozens, sometimes hundreds of other beings all the time, whether on board a star destroyer or in battle. Then add to that, life on Coruscant, in the Temple, and pair it with his own constant loud thoughts, feelings, and anxieties, and he really couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced a true quiet like this. Had he ever?

Anakin summoned enough energy to roll over with a grunt. His face was covered in muck and dirt, he could feel it in the pull of his skin when he winced. His cloak was wet, but he still used the voluminous sleeves to wipe it away. All his clothes were wet as it turned out – not exactly soaked , but damp enough to be uncomfortable and annoying. He became more aware of every pain in his body – temples throbbing, joints aching, and most inconvenient of all, the sharp stab of pain in his side. It was most likely a fractured or bruised rib… he hoped anyway. 

As he continued to lie supine in the grass, he took stock of the rest of his body, curling and straightening his fingers then rolling his arms across the dirt to test the movement. Next he tried wiggling his toes inside his boots then flexed his calves, and finally pulled up his legs to bend his knees. Nothing seemed broken. He finally pushed himself up until he was in a sitting position, swaying a bit as his vision swam. 

Forgetting about all his physical aches, his gloved hand moved to his belt, searching for his communicator, but it was nowhere to be found. Then it flew to his left hip where his lightsaber usually sat, a comforting weight always at his side, but it wasn’t there either. 

"Shiiiiit," Anakin whispered. He looked at the ground around him, blinking, his eyes straining to see anything at all in the grass in the low light. It could be anywhere. He would find it – he would – but he couldn’t focus right this second. He scrambled to stand but it was too much, too soon and he fell back into the dirt. 

He groaned long and loud into the rapidly darkening night. 

But then, he heard the most beautiful sound to his buzzing ears – the sound of help. Help was on its way in a beaten-up X-34 landspeeder, which sounded like the combustor of the axial compressor needed to be replaced. He’d never been so happy in his life to hear the low rumble of an engine that needed some serious maintenance, or more happy that he had not completely forgotten everything he knew. 

A wave of dizziness and nausea came over him, but he leaned forward and stretched out his arm as the speeder rumbled closer.  “Help?” He could barely muster the single-syllable word. Not that he could be heard over the noise of the engine anyway, but he had to try. 

Then, unfortunately, he blacked out once again.

Anakin slowly came-to, aware of warmth, comfort, and a voice, calm and gentle, like home . He suddenly remembered being lifted, a hand on his cheek, his forehead, the cool night air then – 

Nothing more.

For the third time in less than half a day, Anakin awoke from slumber. Except this one had been much more fitful than the others. He still ached, but at least he was no longer lying face down in mud in wet clothes. Instead, now he was lying on a sofa under a blanket, his head cradled in a soft pillow, and he was clean and comfortable. The thought was concerning, but he'd get to that later.

Golden sunlight filtered in through the room’s shades. It was certainly no longer night, and it seemed rather bright, but he had no idea what time it could possibly be. He squeezed his eyes tightly and tried to remember… He could recall nothing at all of how he got here – on the planet or in this room. He had been on Jedha with Artoo and a couple of troopers from 501st (who showed up at Ahsoka's insistence), combing through an old excavation site. It was the last-known location of an unknown holocron, apparently buried amongst the ruins, and looking for it had felt like searching for a single star in a nebula. 

When the Jedi first learned of its existence (or ‘ potential existence’ rather, as Obi-Wan had insisted), neither he nor Obi-Wan had truly believed in the presence of such a holocron on the planet. Something like that would surely have been recovered long ago! Obi-Wan’s incredulity echoed in Anakin's head.  But t hey were instructed to at least look, as it would have been rather foolish to allow something like that to languish untouched with the potential of falling into anyone’s hands. And if the rumor was true and they did find such a thing, they could study it. Incredulity aside, Obi-Wan wasn't very good at completely hiding his interest (or at least not to Anakin), and he had remarked several times on how he'd love to study it and learn all its secrets. Anakin had adored the way the older man’s eyes lit up just talking about it. He wouldn't have dreamed of ever telling his old master that.

Then he would never get a chance to. Obi-Wan became one with the Force, leaving Anakin behind forever, and he was forced to go on, to live the rest of his life without his best friend and master. It had been three months, and the wound was as raw and as fresh as the day Obi-Wan was taken from him. He couldn't find peace no matter what he did or who he talked to. They weren't Obi-Wan. 

Master Kenobi’s loss was felt keenly by all the Jedi, but Anakin was sure he didn’t mean as much to them as he did to him. His master was gone and Anakin would never have peace again. 

So Anakin had gone to Jedha on a half-cocked mission to find the holocron, because Obi-Wan had wanted to find it, and Obi-Wan wanted to study it, and that was a last wish Anakin could honor even though every fiber of his being cried out for the loss of the man he loved. 

Perhaps the holocron held secrets to eternal life. Perhaps there was a way to see or speak to him again. Feeling delirious with the prospect, Anakin had run headlong into the temple ruins built inside a cave mouth of a large plateau, feeling as if he was getting close. The pull of the Force was strong, like a nexus of power. He remembered a thrumming and buzzing in his head then nothing at all after that. 

And now he was in some house he didn't know, on a planet he didn't recognize. 

He carefully stretched out with his senses and found that all was calm. He reached further looking for someone, anything , but didn’t get much beyond the general course of life on the planet. Then suddenly, on the edge of his consciousness, a single life form appeared, close… It was inside the house with him.  Anakin should be on high alert, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be. Perhaps he would come back to the why later. Wherever he was, he felt safe and not in any danger. The life form felt calm, relaxed, and slightly amused. Then suddenly he heard a low humming, but not like the humming of the Force, but a living being softly humming a tune. It wasn’t in the room with him but it was close. Then it stopped. 

"Ah, you're awake."

Anakin whipped his head in the direction of the voice. THAT VOICE. A voice he knew better than anyone else's. A voice he had heard most every day since he was nine years old, a voice he'd grown to love more than anyone else's. He twisted around to get a better look, hissing when his side and back protested, clearly still in no shape to move so quickly. 

“Take it easy!” The voice warned. 

He watched in disbelief as the source of the voice set a tray down on the small table in front of the sofa. As he took in the man before him, his chest constricted and tightened and his breathing shallowed. He stood on the precipice of a panic attack with no way to ward it off. Because here was Obi-Wan Kenobi in the flesh, standing in front of him, whole and alive . 

He was older than Anakin knew him to be at the time of his death – by five years or so, maybe more. His hair was longer, not quite as long as it was right before the start of the war, but long enough so the ends curled around his ears and sat on the collar of his shirt. There were more strands of grey threaded throughout his hair and at his temples, more lines etched into his face, particularly around the eyes. His skin had taken on more of a golden hue than Anakin had ever seen – like he spent most of his time outside – which also meant more, darker freckles dotting his forehead, cheeks, and the bridge of his nose. 

He was wearing a light colored work shirt with the buttons undone to mid-breastbone and the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His trousers were the color of rust and he wore tall, brown boots. The clothes hugged his strong figure as if they were tailor-made specifically for him. Anakin couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Obi-Wan in anything but his loose, cream-colored tunics, robes or under blacks and armor.

He looked like a man untouched by war, healthy and content. Anakin had forgotten that once Obi-Wan did look like that, but it was long ago. He stared, slack-jawed, as he thought of Obi-Wan’s pale face and lifeless, clear blue eyes as he held him in death. This was Obi-Wan as he could have been – should have been. Anakin's heart clenched in his chest. 

"I brought you some breakfast," the man finally added, still hesitant and wary of what Anakin would do next.  

Feeling panicked at the strange normality of it all, Anakin attempted to fully sit up so he could defend himself if needed, but he was still in quite a bit of pain. He grabbed his side and winced as the aching muscles in his core contracted. Then his fingers came in contact with a large bandage stuck to his left side. 

"Careful now!" Obi-Wan rushed over to grab Anakin's arm and steady him. The touch was like a brand in his skin. He ripped his arm away and stood quickly, hitting his shin on the small table as he stumbled away from the strange Obi-Wan. He blindly reached again for where a lightsaber should be at his hip, only to find it still wasn't there. 

Instead, Anakin brandished the knife he'd grabbed off the tray in his haste to distance himself from the imposter. "What kind of trick is this? Who are you?"

Not-Obi-Wan put his hands up in a half-hearted surrender. "I'm not really thrilled about being threatened in my own home. Even if it is with a dull butter knife. I can assure you, I am unarmed."

"Obi-Wan… what… what are you doing here?"

Confusion colored the man's features, but it was there and gone just as quickly. "It's just Ben,” he said, slowly putting his hands down. 

Anakin's eye brows pinched as he frowned, “Ben? I– nevermind!” He thrust the knife out in warning and Ben's hands flew back up. "Where am I? How are you here??"

"Well this is MY house, and you're a guest in it, though I have half a mind to throw you out now for threatening me."

This ‘Ben’ was so much like his Obi-Wan, it took his breath away. The way he talked, even if the accent was slightly less of the clipped Coruscanti, and more of a slight brogue, then right down to the casualness with which he handled Anakin's threat… But behind the light-hearted jest, there was a definite wariness, a bit of fear for this complete stranger in his home. Because Ben clearly didn't know him. Anakin meant nothing to him. This wasn't his Obi-Wan. 

Anakin blinked as he tried to remember anything before he woke up, trying to make sense of this situation. Maybe he was actually lying in a cot in a tent in the middle of a dusty desert on Jedha. Or perhaps on a moderately comfy bed in the Halls of Healing back inside the Jedi Temple. Or maybe he was floating inside a bacta tank – injured, knocked out, and healing. Yes, that was it. He was asleep and this was a dream, and in his great grief, he'd conjured up this older Obi-Wan. An Obi-Wan who was not only alive, but content, happy, and healthy. Of course he would – that's what Anakin wanted for his friend and the man he loved. He had created a life that Obi-Wan didn't get to live.

Tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes. He squeezed them shut tightly and willed himself to wake up. 

"You seem to be very hurt," the voice spoke again, and Anakin opened his eyes. "Why don't you eat something then go lie down?"

"Maybe I am hurt, but this isn't real, you're not real," he said resolutely. "I am hurt, yes. But I'm at home, in the Temple." Maybe if he said it forcefully enough and without any doubt he would make it so. 

Not-Obi-Wan stepped towards him and Anakin stepped back. 

"I have no intention of hurting you, I think you need to lie down before you hurt yourself," Ben stepped towards him again, one hand extended, palm up as if he was trying to settle a wild nexu.  

“You know that I could hurt YOU,” Anakin said, his voice wavering. The knife in his hand trembled. 

“You won’t though.”

Their eyes fixed on each other as Ben stepped closer. Anakin didn't know whether he wanted to fight or flee, but he felt immobilized so he did neither. 

Before he knew what was happening, Ben lunged forward and wrapped his right hand around Anakin’s wrist, gripping it tightly, forcing him to drop the knife, then another arm came around Anakin’s neck and squeezed. 

“Sleep,” was the last word Anakin heard before he did just that.

Anakin dreamt of Obi-Wan. 

But not the Obi-Wan he had known since he was nine years old. It was an Obi-Wan he'd known for maybe nine minutes.  

In his dream, this Obi-Wan looked exactly like his Obi-Wan, he dressed differently but otherwise moved and talked like him. His gestures, jokes, and smiles were the same, even down to the lingering sadness behind his eyes that Anakin had always noticed when Obi-Wan thought he wasn’t looking. But in his dream, he was still on this other planet, and not Coruscant, and Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi, but a farmer. 

Anakin was inside a small house which sat in the middle of several acres of land covered in trees and lush fields. Directly behind the home was a large garden where the older Obi-Wan currently stood amongst many kinds of plants, small and large. He was naked to the waist, and the sinking sun's rays reflected off his sweat-shiny skin, making it glisten. Ben was a bit thicker than Anakin remembered ever seeing Obi-Wan, but he was still strong and lithe. The muscles in his back and arms flexed as he dug into the earth and bent down to plant new seeds. Obi-Wan finally stood and turned, wiping sweat from his brow with a bit of cloth he pulled from his back pocket. 

“Anakin,” he said with the loveliest smile Anakin had ever seen. 

This Obi-Wan loved him. Anakin knew it somehow. 

Anakin’s eyes flew open, he was sweating and his breathing labored. He sat up quickly, blankets pooling at his waist, and looked around. Daylight was fading, but it was enough to illuminate the room and he could see it was homey and cozy. He was now in a small bedroom he didn’t recognize in a very comfy bed. Far more comfortable than anything he'd grown used to in battlefield tents and aboard Venator destroyers. He looked to his right, wondering if he’d find Ben there, since this was surely his room, but when he found it empty, he exhaled, strangely relieved. 

The bed was a modest size, easily large enough for two, but not so big that two people would never meet in the night. A dresser sat pushed up against the wall opposite with a small mirror resting on top. From where he sat, Anakin could see there were some trinkets and other items there as well, but he couldn’t make out what they were. A large chair sat by the window with a blanket haphazardly thrown over and a discarded datapad in the seat. On the small bedside table next to his side of the bed, there was a lamp, and surprisingly, his communicator and his lightsaber. 

Anakin pushed away the covers and swung his legs over the side. He picked up his lightsaber to feel the familiar and comforting heft. Ben had undoubtedly found it, but it was a bit surprising that he had actually returned it to him. Maybe he didn't know what it was, didn't know what Anakin could do with it. Well, at least he'd be spared the 'your lightsaber is your life' lecture, though Anakin would have given up his lightsaber forever just to hear it again. 

He was still wearing only a pair of sleep pants and he was glad to find that the glove over his mechno-arm was still in place. He wiggled his toes then slid off the bed and stepped onto soft, cool carpet and stretched away some of the stiffness. It felt like he had been asleep for days. At the window, he pulled back the curtain slightly to peer outside. The sun was setting in the distance behind the foothills, painting the sky in soft pinks, oranges, and purples. The landscape was bathed in a soft yellow, but none of that beauty compared to the man standing in the middle of the large vegetable garden. 

Just like in his dream.

His heart rate picked up again. 

Was he even awake now? Or was all of this a dream? 

Suddenly small flashes of what he thought were recent memories returned to him – a pair of strong arms wrapping around his back and under his knees, the feel of a warm, wet cloth being dragged across his face gently, humming in another room, then Anakin threatening to stab this beautiful man with a butter knife. He flushed, hoping against hope that that was also only from his dream. 

He dropped the curtain and made his way through the house and out onto the back porch. Ben was practically glowing in the evening sun. It only took a second for him to look up and smile. 

“Hello there.” Ben thrust his shovel into the dirt, then rested his elbow on the handle. Anakin’s mouth suddenly became very dry. “Oh, I’ve hidden all the butter knives,” he added with a slight twist to his mouth. Anakin's face fell – so that one was true. “However, that thing I put on the bedside table seems like it could do much more damage than a knife.” Ben huffed as he pulled a cloth out of his back pocket and wiped his face. 

“That 'thing'??” Anakin scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. His still-bare chest, he was reminded. Maybe from that distance Ben couldn’t tell that he was blushing. “That thing, Ben, is my lightsaber. MY LIFE. You are… were always so fond of reminding me.” Ben chuckled but said nothing else. It felt so odd for him to say nothing at all about it. 

They stood and stared at each other for a few moments. Anakin allowed the stillness and quiet of the evening to envelope him once more. Was this really his current reality? Or was it possible that his mind had actually created some world so tangible, so intricate and detailed? An Obi-Wan who was both Obi-Wan and not simultaneously, and who had no clue who Anakin was.

Ben pulled his shovel from the ground and walked towards the house. He stopped below the porch and stared up at Anakin. “You must be hungry, would you like latemeal?”

As if right on cue, his stomach growled. “Yes, okay.”

“Let me get cleaned up and I will get it for you,” Ben said with a nod and passed by Anakin without a second look. 

Anakin sat at the small table in the kitchen and watched as Ben deftly moved around the space preparing the meal. It was strange how everything seemed so familiar, from the way he stood and held himself, to the way he drank from his own mug, even down to how quiet and focused he was on the task. It was strange to know and love the man so well, but to not know him at all. Because this still wasn't his Obi-Wan. No matter what his dream told him. No matter what he wanted to believe and be real. But he was so like him, it made his heart ache. He knew a mind consumed with grief could create fantastical things, believe the unbelievable, especially if it brought back loved ones. He'd also heard stories of beings traveling through time and space, but that’s all they were supposed to be, stories – ‘wistie stories' his mom told him before bed or outlandish yarns spun by his fellow padawans as they shirked their duties.

But if that was true, and he'd been flung into another time and universe… Where was Anakin Skywalker here? And why wasn't he with Obi-Wan Kenobi?

He snapped out of his reverie when Ben set some food down in front of him then took his own place in the chair across the table. It was intimate, but Anakin couldn’t think about it too much because he was starving and the food smelled amazing. It was a needed distraction. 

Between sips from his mug of tea, Ben finally spoke up. "I didn't see a ship. Or a speeder, for that matter."

"Uh well, I didn't have one," Anakin said as he pushed the food around on his plate. "At least not here." He shoved a large chunk of fried tuber in his mouth. 

Ben narrowed his eyes, "I'm not exactly close to the nearest town, are you saying you walked?" 

“No,” Anakin said around a mouthful of food. "I just ended up out there.”

Ben frowned, "How do you mean ‘ended up’?” 

"Just that. I was on Jedha then I woke up in a mud puddle… I think."

Ben took another sip of his tea. "You've still not given me your name. What do I call you?"

Anakin felt like sulking, "You really don't know it." It wasn’t a question.

"Well, I… you seem to talk a lot in your sleep, and I thought maybe you'd mention it, but strangely, I only heard my own name over and over.” He looked down then cleared his throat. “But I can't really understand how you know my given name.” He stroked his beard.

Anakin felt as confused as Ben – or actually Obi-Wan. But he did know he didn’t like the way that sounded. He couldn’t remember any part of his dreams except for whatever vision that he had of Ben in the field before he saw him out there. He was now afraid of anything he might have said. 

He toyed briefly with giving a fake name, but then decided against it at the last minute. This was Obi-Wan… some Obi-Wan, and with him he was always Anakin. “It’s Anakin.” 

"Anakin," Ben repeated softly. 

He ducked his head and continued eating, hoping that the older man would find something else to stare at for a little while. But he could feel his eyes still on him. 

After a prolonged silence, Anakin spoke up again. "I'm not from here, wherever here is." Ben stared at him but kept silent so Anakin would continue. "I'm from Coruscant. Well, that's where I live anyway… In the Jedi Temple."

Ben’s eyebrows raised briefly then he looked down into his mug. “You’re a ways from Coruscant.”  

Well now they were getting somewhere, and at least Coruscant existed in this universe. "And where is here?"

"Stewjon," Ben said as he sat back in his chair.

Of course. Of course! It was so obvious now – he’d been sent to Obi-Wan’s birth planet for some reason. Maybe it would be a starting point for figuring out the how and why. 

"And what of the war?" 

"What war?"

“What war?” Anakin huffed, "THE war, Ben, the war against the Separatists!?"

Ben shook his head in response. "I'm afraid I don't know it. I try to keep up with news from the Core Worlds as much as possible, but I've never heard of a war or the Separatists. Though, from the name alone, I can possibly figure out their platform.” 

Anakin leaned forward, settling his elbows on the table. "When I say I'm not from here, I mean, not from HERE – this universe." It was out there – now it was up to Ben to decide what to do with it. Ben's brow dipped slightly, but he remained silent. "I am a Jedi, a general in the Grand Army of the Republic, I was your…" He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Did he even know the Jedi? He certainly wasn't his master here. "I was on a mission on Jedha, then… then, I woke up here."

Ben sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't believe him. Anakin could tell even though he said nothing. 

He huffed again and ran a hand through his hair. "I want to get back, I need to get back. I don't belong here." Even if he could be at Obi-Wan’s side again, where he did belong. 

Ben stroked his beard in thought. "Anakin, what you're saying… it's impossible. You can't hop to another universe. You can't travel through time or to another reality."

Anakin stood quickly, nearly upsetting the chair. "But I did it! And I’m here talking to you! An Obi-Wan who… who doesn't know or care anything about me!"

"Anakin, come now, that's not–" Ben started but Anakin wasn’t staying to listen. 

He left the kitchen quickly and headed back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He threw himself down into the bed, wanting to scream into the pillow. 

If he couldn’t even remember how he got here in the first place, how in the hell could he find a way back? And Ben clearly wasn’t going to help him. Anakin had no holocron here or a way to get back to Jedha to check. He couldn’t even get back to Coruscant, to the Temple. Maybe others like Mace and Yoda or Plo Koon existed here, even if he didn’t. Maybe they would know and could help him.

Anakin closed his eyes to keep the tears from slipping free, but they fell anyway, wetting the soft pillow underneath his head.

#obikin #obikin bingo #my writing #never a jedi au #alternate universe #universe travel #obi wan x anakin #fanfic #if you saw me reposting it #you probably didn't cos it wasn't showing up anywhere 😭

[ellies-enrichment]

oh my god my editor for this fic is the slowest editor that has ever existed

*i am the editor for this fic*

#the problem is i dont know how to end a story so i write and i write and i write #and it's been a week #and i'll no doubt write even more if i hate the ending when i get down to it #i live in a constant state of not wanting to forget a stupid comment made by either tommy or ellie #and if i read through it a billion times to make sure i have everything i'll see a spot where i can make one of them say something else #i prommy its coming #its oddly so connected to graceland too which was not the plan at all but i guess somewhere in my mind while i slept #i was like tommy & ellie graceland too arc #and now i have that in my mind #so my silly fluffy fic turned into something i actually cared about a lot more #because graceland too is special to me #graceland too tommy & ellie arc right before the kyoto joel & ellie arc #anyway theres your obligatory update #its still coming im just slow

[opens-up-4-nobody]

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#theres this feeling i get sometimes. i find it very hard to articulate. its part despair and part awe. dispair at how beautiful the world is #all those intricate little process coming together to organize the chaos. i dont kno y i feel it so deeply or y it hurts so much #because its just. no matters what horrible things r going on in the world. ur body is this miraculous collection of chemicals and reactions #mobile containers of water with a history that spirals back billions of years. and you can hear and see and experience and reflect #and when you die the world goes on spinning without you. if we as humans destroyed this planet past the part of our ability to inhabit it #it wouldnt even matter. there would be continued life past humanity. cosmically we r tiny and insignificant and we dont matter #but were beautiful and wonderful and infinity complex and knowing that leaves me in agony. because i want to kno everything right now but #mind is too small and i walk around with the disorientation of someone whos just been hit in thr face ans i cant focus enough to read #cant make the words make sense and i cant justify the time it would take to try. so i sit on my deck. in the sun. crying as i think about #how the light hit the grass in my front yard the last time i was home. how the cliffs in the backyard are ringed with red lines of iron #separated out as the water leached through the sandstone. how every avaliable surface is stained green as organisms reach upward toward #the sun. and its beautiful and i dont kno y im crying. maybe its bc i cant just throw everything aside and chase that feeling. im not #allowed to feel it. im not allowed to talk abt it in the way i want. bc im afraid no one cares as much as me in the same way. bc when i #talk abt what i study its obscure and academic and so far from what most ppl think abt that they get intimidated and dont try to understand #so i just try not to talk abt it. or maybe im just afraid. bc i have my 1st TA meeting tomorrow and i meet with my new advisor friday #and im worried and im afraid i wont b able to do this in a way that doesnt make me feel like im dying. bc i like to b busy and i like having #a strict schedule but if u throw me that knife im going to stab myself with it bc i dont kno how wield it as a tool without hurting myself #sure ill get the job done. but at what cost? whatever. ill try to b better this time. try to hold tight to the wonder. but that feels like #reaching out into forever. knowing ill never make contact. not knowing what im reaching for. #the closest approximation to the feeling i can find is that scene in the terror. where go0dsir is asking if god is there. any god. and it #doesnt matter bc he can see god in the landscape. in an environment that's so harsh and barren that its killing him slowly in the worst of #ways and its beautiful. its still beautiful to him. there is wonder here. and im wasting my time laying in a dark room crying bc i put #myself into a container so constrictive that the surface snaps and i come spilling out as an angry liquid. smearing away into nothing #unrelated

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| you're here! Word count: 5317 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig This fic on AO3

— You’re really quiet, little princess. 

König isn’t ashamed of staring at you the whole horse ride. He isn’t ashamed of touching you, his precious treasure – cupping your breasts through that pathetic excuse of a corset, trying to feel of your legs through the billions of skirts, his touches sprawling across your skin like bruises. He is a soldier in all regards – his touches are far from gentle, far from how he should behave with his bride. You feel like a piece of meat being presented for him to devour. Like an unwilling sacrifice for a benevolent god. 

— Should I scream then?

Snarkiness isn't something that the princess should have – but it's the only weapon you have, although you are not sure if you can even use it. Emperor is laughing, and it is supposed to be a good thing – you were trained to receive such reactions, like a little dog standing and doing tricks on command; you were taught to strive for smiles on the faces of others. But König doesn’t allow you to see his smile, but König laughs all the time while describing to his soldiers the things he wants to do to you. It is almost surely, that he doesn’t think you know his language – you wish you didn’t know. 

— I can give you a reason to scream. — You shall not threaten a… — I’m not threatening you, kleine Katzen. With a good time, maybe. — What are you referring to? — That I would love nothing more but to rip your skirt off and show your cunt a royal treatment, princess.

Emperor has a foul mouth, wandering eyes, and grabby hands – he behaves like a drunk man in a tavern, even though you have never once been in a tavern, and the only drunk men you barely saw were the castle guards on various celebrations. He doesn’t act like a glorious king from the romance novels – and you don’t think that you ever read a novel about a king or an emperor, not about princes and glorious knights. People with this much power don’t deserve love, they already have everything they have – so why would he kidnap you? 

You turn away from him, the obscenity of his mouth makes your whole face burn. You are trying to hide yourself in your hands, you want to grasp something like a little fan or a handkerchief – everything to sustain your dignity. You are wearing the princess’s name and you have to behave like her – even if you don’t think that she would care about how you are behaving yourself. The dread of being exposed lingers in your chest, the only thing that doesn’t allow you to scream and launch on him like a wild cat. Rules and modesty tie you down stronger than any corset could. 

Like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s trap – you steal looks at the nature around you, excited and terrified to see it for the first time – not the perfect greenery of the castle garden, but an untamed nature. You saw the city for the first time – your capital, not burned and agonized under the empire’s boot, but eerie quiet. The city doesn’t know your face, the princess was hidden, kept in the tower as a means to escape the burden of marriage proposals and possible wars for the sake of securing her beauty. Nobody here knows you for your face, and for them, it’s just the empire’s knights, a power from a country too foreign to be worried about, and a random kidnapped girl in a dissarranged dress and tears streaming down her face. 

A hand on your waist secured you in place. No matter how much you squirm and cry, try to forget all the filthy nonsense he is whispering in your ear, you are forced to listen – and you want to cry every time his face hovers over yours. His hands are touching you, too much for comfort, your are still wrapped in his cape, but it’s a very small mercy for your torn dress and fragile body. 

The road is long and short at the same time. Your kingdom was bordering one of Northern Empire territories, but it’s days away – you never once thought that having the Empire right on your border would be such a nuisance, that it would allow them to simply take whatever they want from your tiny country – the rules of politics are never applying to those in power and, unfortunately, you found out the worst way possible. The road is treacherous, with people surrounding you, with soldiers going through the beheaded country like it’s nothing. You were biting your lips the entire first day of the ride, trying not to cry – you do not want to give him the pleasure of seeing your distress, but you can’t help but sob every time he exits the cabin to yell at his soldiers or laugh at something. 

You are not tied up, they trust you too much – they all know you would not be able to run, seeing just a helpless princess, a little war trophy of their emperor. The war trophy without the war, just a doll for him to enjoy. You steal a few glances at him – his spread legs that make you wonder how the poor horse even can handle him riding it, his mighty body, and his muscular arms. He could wrestle a dragon, you think – he could lift up the whole carriage and bring you back to the capital like this. He is a cocky bastard, not even having his sword in his hand whenever you move too much – too confident that this weak princess would not be able to resist him. You don’t want to fall from the horse and so you freeze in your tracks, even when they hit a small pause on the journey.

You can’t, of course – your hands are trained to hold clothes, to braid hair and, sometimes, fetch the water buckets – but you are mostly proficient in holding books, turning pages and embroidering. You can make tea, you can support the conversation, you can faint dramatically whenever the right opportunity occurs, but the ride has been happening for a few hours already, and you fainted three times – for specific reasons, of course, but fainting now would surely be a bit too much. 

— Is little princess too tired to hold herself straight? 

König chuckles in your ear, hands pushing you against his body. You don’t want to say anything, you’d rather continue your ride until you’re completely exhausted – books were never talking about how hard it is to ride a horse, that your rear would feel numb after the first hour, and your head would be bouncing on every little bump on the road. You never thought that the roads of your kingdom were so terribly maintained – and never thought it would be such a problem. 

You grit your teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of confirming just how weak you are – but he stops his horse once you are not responding, a hand slides under your hips to help you get out from the damned animal. You swear to god that you will never ride this foul creature again – but the god, as always, stays silent. 

— What is it? 

— Princess isn’t used to long detours. We’d have to stop before dawn if we want to keep this a secret for now. — Could travel for a few more hours before it’s too bright.

His second-in-command is a weird man, no doubt. Tall, broad, wearing armor with tiger prints all over the metal – although you never saw a tiger in real life, only on various illustrations of the books you were reading for the Princess. He is painfully informal in a way that makes you wonder how he can keep his head on his shoulders – surely, if he’d talk this way to a king, he wouldn’t be such a profound member of the army. König only shakes his head, pointing at you as the reason to stop – as you begged him to get off this bloody thing. — I need my princess with all innards intact. Especially the soft ones.

Emperor laughs, cupping your ass through the skirts. He somehow managed to grope your softness without breaking the corsage, and you’d feel thankful for him, but the dress was ruined anyway – all the hard work of redoing it over and over, every time you had to manage to squish the princess inside of the harsh corset and billion skirts, every little detail you were thinking through together…it feels somehow suitable, to wear a destroyed dress. Fake princess deserves fake luxury, but even the modesty he allows you to have with his coat wrapped around you feels forced.

Stopping right now, when you feel numb and your legs are getting weak and squishy like that weird transparent foreign delicacy, is very considerate of him. So much so you don’t even want to acknowledge it, hoping he’d just continue to go forward until all the traces of your past are gone. You’re too tired to consider anything from escaping to even opening your eyes. Suddenly, being on a horse of this size doesn't sound like something out of a fairytale. Suddenly, you realize that the horses are tall. 

— What’s wrong, princess? 

— I’m not going down.

You are sitting, frozen on top of his horse. One of your hands is keeping his coat wrapped securely around your body while the other squeezes the reins, hoping not to fall miserably to the ground. You hear soldiers laugh – the embarrassment spreads around your cheeks when you understand that a true princess would have horse riding lessons. You two never did – it would give you too much freedom, and your castle would never accommodate to large grounds of free roaming to keep a princess and her loyal maiden entertained. You can only hope they won’t think that the absence of your riding lessons would be too suspicious – and you also hope that he would just allow you to never jump down to the ground that feels horrifyingly far from you. 

— Do you wish to run with my horse? 

— Yes, your Highness. — Run, then. I’ll be waiting, little princess.

There is a laugh in his voice – you squeeze the reins and try to holster them, maybe kick the foul creature to the side so it would take the hint and start running in the direction of the nearest forest. Maybe you would get lucky, and the horse would drop you in front of the house of a kind forest witch that would take you as her student – you can cook, and you can read, so, naturally, any witch would be happy to have you as a disciple. Maybe you will get even more lucky, and the horse will kick you in the head after dropping you, finishing your misery in a tragic road accident. Not a honorable death, but a quick and interesting one. The horse remains frozen in place – just like you. König gently caresses its face, giving it something to eat – an apple, perhaps, a nice and tasty fruit, or sugar cubes, the delicacy that the princess would often indulge in but never gave you, or something of a…ah, this is it – you are starting to get jealous of his horse. Mayhaps, death is the only choice for you now. 

— I will run. 

— Of course you will. 

— Sir, should we prepare the archers? 

— Don’t know it yet. Maybe the princess escape would be too swift for them. 

You feel your whole face burn – they laugh, they all laugh, looking at you like a piece of meat, a funny joke between them. You don’t want to fall from the horse, and you don’t want to stand here either – but every time you look down at the ground that is so, so far away, you can only shake in your seat. You feel like crying once again – and this is what brings you to the edge. With a deep sigh and shaking hands, you jump down swiftly, your eyes closed and your legs getting tangled in the various skirts, dragging you down. ***

The emperor had an understanding of what he was getting into when he kidnapped a princess. Princesses, pretty and young ones especially, are mysterious creatures that should be carefully studied by the imperial scientist in order to determine how in hell they can even exist without killing themselves on something stupid three times per day. This one, however, was a crowned ruler of weird girls – sometimes throughout the journey, he was thinking about returning her to the king and choosing another one. Then he remembered that he beheaded the king – and so, the bloody dot was sealed in the history of relationships between Northern Empire and this tiny shithole in the middle of nowhere. 

Besides, the princess was too adorable to really throw her out. She is smart – for someone like her, anyway; her snarkiness combined with the primal fear of him and his men made him feel strong, more significant than before. It’s funny, in a way – König had defeated countless great warriors and spent his life turning the tiny Empire into the most powerful nation on the blonde, and yet, he never once felt this achieved as when he held the princess in his arms. The emperor never thought of marriage as a necessity, his whole magic endeavors securing that he would never have to worry about leaving an heir or having someone else to rule – but the loneliness can hit you like a royal stallion bred for the purpose of battery ramming into castle doors, and you can find yourself yearning for something that you never thought you’d want. Speaking of royal horses…

The princess is cute, the princess is dumb, and the princess is the most weird and perfect creature in the whole wide world. Makes him wonder just what was you doing in your little castle with your little servants, running around like ants under your dainty heel. You are snarky to him when you know that he is too busy to strike you and too tired to care about his opinion – he likes that about you, little yawns and feeble attempts to appear strong in front of him. He doesn’t, however, like the way you are frozen on top of his horse. He needs his wife helpless, yes, dependant on him in everything – and he also needs her to ask for help when needed, not…well, not jumping from the height of a royal horse in that stupid dress of yours. 

God, hive him strength. 

König, the ruler of the Northern Empire, biggest royal regime on the globe, thought that he overcame his anxiety when he was young, so long ago, he forgot how fast his heart can beat when the situation is going out of his control. He remembers this dreadful feeling now when that stupid brain of yours has decided that jumping from a horse is a good idea. He is fast, swift enough to catch you before you fall to the ground, and he squeezes your hips enough to hear the crack of that stupid dress construction. 

He has to stop himself from yelling. From putting you in your place and slapping you across that perfect face of yours – never the one to beat women, König feels like spanking the shit out of you now. His eyes are flashing with anxiety, and he grabs your shoulders, putting you in front of him – you can’t see his face, covered by his mask, and it’s a small grace for someone like you. He is scary when angry, nostrils flashing with rage when he thinks that you’d rather break your neck than ask him for help. 

— Made others set the camp for tonight. 

Horangi is as perfect as a knight can be – his friend, his partner in crime, one of the only ones who still can survive his temper and not be intimidated by it. He can see the worry in his eyes when König is pushing the little princess down to his hold, draping the various skirts across his hands to rip them away – and he quickly yells at the other soldiers who produced the operation, making them run in various directions to collect wood, stones and set up the tents for tonight. They have to move away from the popular roads, even though nobody in this kingdom would be strong enough to hurt them anyways – but this operation should be a secret, at least relatively, until the princess is secured as his empress, and her body is sprawled across his sheets, withering from pleasure and…

Ah, Scheisse. König cannot stay mad at her when the mere thought of her smile makes his dick twitch in his pants. He survived through horribly throbbing erection against the metal plates of his armor for the whole ride, the small mercy of not having her soft body press against him directly. It didn’t stop him from wanting more, from whispering filthy things, completely undeserving of your virtue. You are bringing him down to his knees – even an emperor is just a man when a pretty girl looks at him, and even at is age, he could feel like a young lover searching for his bride’s hand. 

Oh, but König would love something more than just your hand. 

He should be thankful to his knights for how quickly they made a tent for him to secure the dignity of the first moment between a man and his sweetheart. He usually does everything himself, not wanting to make a lady in waiting out of his knights, but he enjoys their help now – he surely won’t be able to prepare for sleep with his wild cat of a bride in his hands. You are unusually active for a princess, trying to get out of his hands, kicking him with your adorable legs, still wrapped in a ruined skirt. Perhaps you were so mad at him for destroying your dress – he gets it, knowing how sensitive ladies are about this. He’d buy you a new one right away, but, for your stupidity, you deserve to wear only his coat until they are inside the borders of the Empire. 

— Did you hit your head before I got you, princess? What were you thinking? — You told me to run. I did, Your Royal Highness. 

He pinches his nose through the mask, not believing just how arrogant you sound – he wants to push you down, to open that dumb skirt of yours and give your precious ass a few spanks before setting you down, making you sit on the ruined muscle until you’d learn your lesson. The king was definitely not punishing you enough if you still think that you can talk to your betters (and elders) like this. 

— I dared you to run. Thinking you’d accept the consequences with the dignity of a royal lady. 

— Why don’t you kill me then? For belittling your dignity. 

You look too snarky for his liking – he can see how terrified you are, little shakes of your hands and tears in your eyes. You are provoking him, picking the dragon with a stick so he’d burn you to a crisp. König knows that the customs of your kingdom value a good death over everything and just how much you’d love to fall into the grasp of a common tragedy. He also knows that he will not bury his bride before they are even married. 

It’s only natural that the emperor grasps the front of your dress, the edges of the corset you tried to tie down to save some of your dignity. The fabric rips with ridiculous ease, all the gold spent on making it runs with the speed of a thread being torn. Suddenly, your front is exposed, even the underwear is not enough to conceal your privacy. König indulges in the view of your open skin, glossy from sweat and so, so delicious in dim magical light erupting from an artificial candle. He knows that he is playing a dangerous game, that not touching you now would be his greatest accomplishment and greatest torture at the same time – your body meant to be touched, you look like a doll and like a statue, like the greatest treasure and the most desirable slut he ever laid his eyes on. 

The emperor is a man in the end – a war dog, closer to death than to the start of his life, a perfect incarnation of a horrible match to a young princess like you. Too wrathful, too arrogant, with more chips on his shoulders than the hair on your head, and yet, he holds you closely, putting you out of the torture device you are calling a dress. 

You breathe for the first time in forever, and your mouth is shaking from unspoken tears and spoken pleas. He holds himself back from cupping your face in his hands and crushing your lips in a kiss, not because he doesn’t think he deserves it, but because you deserve better than to be fucked on the ground of his tent without proper preparation and some relaxing oils for your body. One kiss would never be enough for him, and he hadn’t touched a woman in far too long to handle himself properly now. 

You look like you need to be ravaged – the greatest temptation König ever experienced. 

— I can do so much to you, little princess. More than you could ever imagine. 

— i’m not…n…not little. Your Highness. 

— You are, compared to me. Should be scared, not snarky. 

— I’m not snarky. 

Just for this, he loses control – your voice, shaking with tears but never losing that arrogant edge, that delicious drawl that cannot be described as something that belongs to a princess, makes him lose all of the composure he had. König had prepared himself for a lady who would fall in his arms and cry the whole night long, he prepared himself for a fierce fighter that would try to kill him immediately – but you are soft and vengeful at the same time, too weak to resist him, but not too helpless to not run his mouth. You speak before you think, and it’s an adorable quality for a princess and horrible – for an empress. good thing you would be his regent, a pretty thing like you should never be annoyed with politics and mingling. König pushes you across his lap, his free hand is tearing through various skirts, and what is left from that awful strick construction you tried to pass as a skirt support. He never understood why anyone would live through this torture – you’d look way nicer in his shirt and nothing more. Or, even better, nothing at all, chained to a bed in his bedroom until he’d think that you are tamed enough to be shown in public. 

You yelp in surprise, precious dumb thing. Just like a princess, you are not accustomed to the consequences of your own actions – you think that you can just run your mouth or do dumb things without his wrath falling upon you…and, little princess, you’re in for quite a shock. Your emperor doesn’t have enough patience for this, even though he did want you as his wife and knew what chaos it could bring. He just never thought that he’d have so much pleasure in looking at your adorable bottoms, all modest and long. Your underpants are adorably white, not stained from multiple washings, crisp and new – he feels the fabric with his fingers and almost thinks to not rip them away, just to appreciate the fine silks that went into constructing it. 

His mercy is cut short by that sweet whimper of yours. You plead with him not to touch you – like you have a saying on this. König defiled the death itself, so why would he even consider such silly things as chastity before marriage? He certainly had enough women in his bed to forbid him from ever going to heaven, and robbing you of your innocence would be a small crime against all the countless sins he already committed. 

But, he doesn’t want you to hate him – and you would, certainly, not in the fiery and passionate way he might enjoy, but a quiet, broken anger. He doesn’t want to turn this fragile thing into the broken shell of the betrothed princess, even if you need to be taught a harsh lesson – and you deserve much better than having your cunt destroyed on the harsh floor of his tent. 

— You’re lucky, little princess. 

He laughs, taking down your underpants – a harsh hand on your bottom, rough fingers that almost burn you without a glove to conceal his touches. You whimper when he lashes on the sensitive skin, stroking sensitive skin. If you knew how hard you make him, you’d run away with his horse already. 

— How am I lucky? You…you killed the king, you destroyed my country, you…

— I killed your father, yes, but I left you alive. 

— To make a show for your soldiers, I assume.. 

— If I wanted to leave you to waste, I would allow them to bounce you on their dicks a while ago. 

— How d…

— You’re lucky because you’re mine, little princess. Not going to share you with anyone. But…

— But? 

Your voice has finally gone down. he can almost taste the dread in your tone. König was burning down villages, destroyed his enemies with nothing more but a rusty sword and hatred in his heart – but he truly feels like a monster when he slaps your ass for the first time and sees your tear-filled eyes staring at him. God, he never was faithful, but hurting you feels like defiling an angel. 

And he loves every second of it. 

— You need to learn a lesson of respect, little princess.

It’s a small grace that he doesn’t make you count his slaps – he simply pushes you down, makes sure that your face is lying on his cloak, just for something soft to rely on, and gives you enough slapping to make the rest of horseriding as painful as possible. Maybe, it would teach you a lesson that if you need help, you’d have to ask him, to beg him for this – and not try to hurt yourself by doing it on your own. You’re awfully independent and resilient for the princess. 

It took him at least five strong, harsh lashes of his hand on your rear to make you cry as loud as he wanted you to. He cups your face in his palm, forcing you up his lap – and smothered your lips with a kiss. König knows he is overstepping; he wouldn’t be able to let go of you after devouring your lips like that, but he doesn’t care, at least for now. He wants to be your everything, to push every thought out of your head and fill it with himself. 

He adores the thought of being your first kiss, your first everything – you’re so inexperienced, so fragile in his hold. Never once thinking of himself as an appreciator of all the thighs dainty and artsy, he wants to worship that pout, your closed eyes, and little prayers of mercy you whisper between each kiss. Your body feels too enticing in his hands, a treasure he needs to keep all to himself. It’s a miracle he didn’t push your underwear down and took you all the way – as much as he wanted to touch you. 

König smiled when you cried into the kiss, trembling in his hold like a caged animal. Never once he thought he’d have this much fun without taking some plumpy woman on his dick, but you are full of surprises. Another five smacks on your ass left you with a bruised bottom and tear-strained, wet face. The look of misery in your eyes made him cackle – god, you were adorable. Continue like this, and he’d spend the rest of his life with you on his lap. 

— We will sleep now. The Empire borders are still days away, and you don’t look like you could handle the road right now. 

You pout, pushing yourself off his lap. Even the hard floor of the tent was better, the cold fabric made your butt sting a bit less. You still couldn’t sit straight, still miserable, with a burning feeling in the depths of your tummy – hate, perhaps, that made your hands shake and your thighs feel a bit too wet and warm for your liking. There is a knot in your lower stomach that makes you feel weird, anxious, that makes you squeeze your legs shut as you push through the pain and get your underpants on again. The soft silks of the princess’s undergarments made you feel a bit better. 

— I’d love nothing more but to run away while we’re still at my home, Butcher.

He smiles under his hood, pushing his hand on your backside. You freeze as he rolls you over, making you fit perfectly against his broad chest. He is a horrible, disgusting human being, clingy and warm around you – his bear-like hold is too strong on your limbs, making you freeze completely. 

— I’m sure you are, Liebling. And I would love to catch you and spank your rear again. 

— I will…you won’t catch me. 

— Someone will. I’ll pay handsomely to any knight or wandering hunter to bring my wife back to me. 

— I’m not y…your wife. 

— Yet. 

You turn away from him – try to, at least. He squeezes you against his chest makes you calm down in his hold like a wild cat he picked up on the side of the road. You don’t want to admit it, but he is warm, cozy, and even the harsh fabric he threw on the ground to make you a bed feels nice compared to the castle floors where you spend so much time. You still squirm, trying to find a good position to lay next to him without feeling like a toy in the hands of a grabby kid. König feels your wounded, perfect ass grinding against him – out of most of his armor, he can’t contain his erection now. Oh, how the strong emperor wished he’d have 

— Stop moving, princess. Unless you want to consummate our marriage early. 

— I’m not…I’m not moving. 

— You are squirming. Is the ground not to your liking?

— I must prefer sleeping in a grave with my papa. — Can’t promise you this…but isn’t sleeping with the Death himself would be enough? — You’re not death, your highness. A blight, maybe. Or a plague. — You’re making me blush, little princess. There is a smile in his voice. You feel your cheeks heat up again, but you can’t say anything. Too many nights sleeping by the princess’s bedspot, always being the first one to greet her at sunrise and the last one to tell her stories before going to sleep. Like a loyal dog on the wooden floor, with a pillow under your cheek for comfort – all of her other handmaidens, precious ladies from good families, had their own quarters and rooms. 

You had a cot by her bed and her endless affection. 

Compared to this, sleeping on the floor of a rich tent with an emperor by your side isn’t as bad. You have to remind yourself that you are sleeping with a murdered, pillager, kidnapper and colonialist – you shouldn’t feel warm by his side. But, he hugs you like a lover. But, he buries his masked face in your hair and inhales your scent – sweet fragrances mixed with the blood and sweat of a long journey. 

You fall asleep in his arms before you can think of something smart to say. 

König doesn’t fall asleep until hour later – too busy looking at your precious form, wrapped so perfectly in his arms. 

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere #konig x you #konig x y/n #cod x y/n

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER day 4

pairing: witch!wanda x fem!reader

summary: trick or treat? definitely a treat!

warnings: smut!!!, dark!wanda, dubcon!!, anal, overstimulation, edging, grooping, kinda voyeurism, inserting tentacles, over all dark themes! if you find anything else - I’ll add it!

words count: 3.6k

an: to be honest im not really sure what i did here, umm this fic was written with the biggest block ever, so I do apologize, also it wasn’t proofread, so yeah

(italics = your thoughts)

!MDNI!

Enjoy this spooky time and be safe!

"I´m coming! Just a minute," was heard on the other side of the door as soon as you knocked. Every second bring your body more anxiety, so you try to shake it off by fidgeting with your ring.

After few minutes the door finally opens - and a pretty tall lady, with red hair and aboslutely georgous black dress smiles at you. Your eyes scan her whole look under a second and you look back into her eyes. Her emerald green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, glisten with a captivating emotion. Her gaze is drawing you in with a mysterious charm. These stunning green eyes seem to reflect the beauty, but also the mystery that comes with the readhead infront of you.

"Trick or treat!" you say as you smile back at her.

"Oh sweetheart," now it´s her turn to look you up and down. Her smile is raplaced by a confusion. "um... and what are you supposed to be?" The redhead tilts her head.

"I- uh a witch." You try to answer with confidence, as you bring your wand up to show her your full fit.

You wouldn´t win an award for the best costume this Halloween, but you tried and everything is homemade, so you should definitely get some bonus points for that. Full black outfit with some spider webs around your torso sounded like a good idea, but maybe it was really hard to tell who are you trying to be.

"Oh- i see now." She nods, but you can see the disappointment in her face. She throws some candy into your bag, but you notice right away that it was only a licorice sweets, which is the worst thing she could give you. "Where is the rest of your group?" She asks as she looks behind you as if she´s waiting for someone else to come.

"Uh... it´s just me. No one wanted to go with me, since they think my outfit sucks." You sigh as you look down, deep down feeling like they might be right.

"Oh no, sweetheart. None of that." She steps closer and her soft fingers touches your chin, lifting it for you to make eye contact with her. "How about I´ll help you with your outfit and at the end of the night you´ll have every candy you ever dreamed off?" Her fingers gently caressing your chin.

"Really?" Your eyes spark with excitement. So much excitement.

"Come on in." The redhead let go of your chin and steps away from the door so you can come inside.

"Thank youuu-" Your eyes met hers again.

"Please call me Wanda." She smiles.

"Thank you, Wanda." You smile back.

As you come inside you can notice that her house is magnificent, everywhere you look you can see architectural details and many ornate decorations, especially on the stairs. It feels kinda like a labyrinth of richly hued tapestries, ornamental vases, and mirrors that capture the light just perfectly. Every corner of the house is a organized, with towering bookshelves that look like a billion dollars worth collection of books, with lots of knowlage in them. The overall ambiance is like a old charm, a sensations of history and elegance. To be honest you wouldn´t be shocked if an 150 old lady lived here, not a beautiful young lady like Wanda.

"Ohh so you like witches too?" You look through her library, reading some of her book titles.

Spells - and everything that comes with them, Spreading your power, Flying around the world: positions, Potions - third edition (extremly addicting)...

Wanda hums as she watches you being interest in her books. "I wrote most of them myself." She says, her voice was still sweet, but you could hear the little harsh tone she added to it, raspy growl with an accent, once subtle and charming, and now pronounced and intense. But you couldn´t put the accent anywhere, maybe somewhere in Europe? East? West? You really didn´t know where to point.

"So you´re an author?" You turn to her.

"You could say that, yeah." Wanda nods.

"That is so cool," you mumbled as something weird and pitch black caught your eye. It was a really dark book, more like a journal that definetly had some history, "what´s that?" you took it from the shelf.

"That is a something like my personal journal." The readhead steps closer to you.

"Oh sorry, I didn´t meant to invade your privacy!" Her hand fall on yours as you wanted to put the book back, where you took it.

"It´s okay, I don´t have any secrets. You can read it." Wanda smiles again.

As you open the book you notice that even her handwriting is so neat and beautiful. It suits her somehow, but as you continue to flip the pages her writing went from tall and pretty to harsh and short. Reading few sentences seem like a good idea, since you had Wanda´s approval. Your face went from smile to confussion real quick. But then it hit you. The woman infront of you you, known as Wanda, is a witch. Despite this revelation, you find yourself not scared but rather intrigued by the truth.

This whole time Wanda was looking at you, waiting for you to speak first.

"So... you´re also a witch?" You try to ease the situations by a joke.

"Also?" She chuckles. "Darling, this poor outfit looks on you more like a trash bag then a costume." Her words hurts. More than you want to admit.

Is my outfit really that shitty?

"Do you want an honest answer, sweetheart?" She steps closer.

Oh so she can read minds now, great.

"I can do more than just read minds." Her accent is very strong by now.

"I- can you not read my mind?" You look at her, noticing she got really close to you.

"Your thoughts are really loud, sweetheart. It´s kinda hard to resist." She almost whispers.

Are they? I can´t think- how do i stop thinking? Oh she´s really close. I don´t mind that. Fuck. (Y/N), not now. I would take her. On a walk, definetly on a walk. No in other way.

Wanda just laughs at your poor tries at calming down your thoughts. "Im glad you´re not afraid of me. That will ease things."

What things? Am I afraid? No. Maybe a little. Who knows? She does.

"Well helping with your new outfit, silly. Which will also help you make more sweets throughout the night."

"Oh! Right!" You nod, immediately following her to her living room, you guess.

You both enter the living room, a space illuminated by the warm, flickering light of few lit candles. Your eyes caught a few wine glasses, each bearing the mark of different shades of lipstick on the enormous wooden table. However, your attention remains fixed on Wanda, who is eager to assist you in making your new Halloween costume.

"Sit over there and I´ll bring some stuff." Wanda smiles and with that she leaves the living room.

You get bored very easily so not even after two minutes you´re on your feet again, glancing around the room. Your eyes are drawn to a paintings adorning the walls. Each canvas is a totally different theme. A dark landscape with rolling hills and a small lake makes you to step into its peaceful scene. Beside it, a bold, abstract burst with vibrant colors, evoking a sense of energy and excitement, which is something you definitely wouldn´t put in a place like this. The figurative portrait of a dark figure seems to watch over the place, which freaks you out a little, since you feel like it´s watching every single one of your steps, even though you can´t really see its face. As you watch these paintings, you don´t even hear Wanda come back.

"I thought I told you to sit over there." Her tone was once again very harsh, which made you feel like a kid that didn´t listen to their mother.

"Sorry, I was just admiring art." You shrug as you sit back, where you were in the first place.

Wanda didn´t say anything, she just started to take things from her bag and list through a book. "Here it is! This will definitely earn you bags full of sweets." She looks at you. "If you´re still in?"

"Yes, of course!" You nod and before you even fully stand up Wanda push you back down with her magic. "Oh wow, that was... so cool." You smile as you notice the red mist flying around.

Wanda smiles at your fascination and comes closer to you. "I need you to close your eyes and trust me, can you do that?" She tilts her head.

"Yes, Wanda. I can do that, if I´ll have a lots of sweets by the end of the night, I will do it!" Your eyes are sparking with bigger excitement than before as you imagine all the chocolate you will eat.

"Okay." She helps you lay down on the couch, which feels really soft on your skin and it makes you close your eyes instantly. "Good, just no matter what, I need you to have your eyes closed, I want it to be surprise." Wanda´s whispers trailing right down your spine.

"I love surprises, I will keep my eyes closed, I promie. Pinky promise!" With your closed eyes you held out a pinky. Almost punching her in the face, but she quickly dodge it. Wanda just smiles at your antics and extends her pinky to make a promise with you.

It took you one more shift on the couch to feel fully comfortable. "I´m ready." You mumble to let Wanda know, even though she can read your mind. Right after the magic start to float around once again.

You feel a lot of silly sensations right away, it feels like a tickling, which in fact makes you giggle out loud. "Tickles!" You say between the laughs.

"I know, it will be just a minute, darling." She smirks, knowing that the tickling feeling is just her magic taking your clothes fully off. At the same time Wanda reagulates your body tempeture with her spells, so you don´t feel even the slightest changes.

The ticklings stops and you fully relax on the couch again, taking a deep breath in and out. Nothing is happening for a few minutes, so it´s very tempting to open your eyes and look what´s going on.

Did she left? Um... should I-

"Absolutly not! If you can´t keep your eyes closed I´ll help you with that too, since I believe you can´t do anything on your own." Wanda scoffs and slides a blindfold over your head. Even if you tried opening your eyes now, you would see pitch black.

The spells and magic start to float around again, red mist tangling around your body. Wanda just sits in her fluffy chair on the other side of the living room. Glass with red wine in her hand as she watches you with hunger in her eyes.

As you open your mouth to talk, you let out a moan. You suddenly feel a warm rush of embarrassment wash over you, your cheeks turning a shade of crimson. It's as if a spotlight has been directed on your momentary lapse, and you can sense the weight of her eyes on you. You fumble for words and wish for a way to disappear into the floor, but the awkwardness lingers.

You feel something touching your body, something that is soft, yet very hard. A delightful sensation begins to spread across your entire body, as if invisible hands are gently caressing your skin. It's like a soothing, expertly executed massage, relaxation and comfort. This wave of bliss sweeps through you, releasing tension and stress with every touch, and you surrender to the embrace of calm that envelops you.

What the hell is that?

"What is what, darling?" Wanda asks, you can hear her voice on the other side of the room, so she can´t be the one touching you. "Oh that? It is just measuring spell, for your outfit to fit perfectly, sweetheart."

"O-okay." You kinda whine out. "I thought that-"

"Oh don´t be silly!" She laughs. "Just stay still." She adds with her raspiness again.

You´re staying still as much as you can. The sensations coursing through your body are unraveling the knots of tension that once held you captive. Muscle melting into a state of pure relaxation. Each touch seems to release a sigh of relief from deep within, and you sink further into a state of blissful repose. "I need you to be relaxed, otherwise it´s not going to fit, darling." Wanda adds.

Fit? Fit what?

"All the accessories." Once again she answer your inner question.

Wanda felt like you were ready and like you can and will take whatever she give you as a addiction to your costume.

You can feel something spreading your legs a bit and moving you little of the couch. The warm feeling never leaving your body, it´s the other way around actually, it´s just increasing. It’s weird how come you can feel a touch all around your body, when Wanda is on the other side of the room. You can hear her cutting out some cloth and time to time her soft humming.

"Oh my god-" you yelp as you can feel something wet between your legs.

How come I´m this wet? Did I pee myself? Oh my god! What is going on?

"Everything okay, darling?" Wanda asks as she´s looking at your hips, slowly going up and down. Your pussy is leaking and she didn´t even touch you.

"Yes! All good!" You´re hoping you´re just feeling things, but Wanda would already say something if things wouldn´t be okay. So it is just silly feelings. Oh you know what it is, it´s the little axienty from being blindfolded, now it make sense. You’re just anxious.

Wanda listen to your thoughs as she´s having the time of her life. It´s time for the actual fun to begin. She extends her hands, conjuring four crimson, ethereal tentacles of pure energy. These serpentine tentacles undulate, glowing with the passionate and dangerous red hue, slowly extending toward their target, you. It's a captivating display of Wanda's magical skills, a vivid manifestation of her power.

As each of them lay on you, you can feel a little wetness, that sticks to you right away. It feels... good. Really good. Whatever measuring device this is, you want to feel it in you-

'Your wish is my command' is Wanda´s first thought. One of the tentacles are slowly teasing you on your inner thighs. Moving slowly up and down your leg. "I need to measure your thighs, darling. Just to make sure your costume is the perfect size. Just give me a moment." She say from the other corner of the room, sipping on her wine.

How come I can feel her, when she´s over there?

Your thoughts are quickly swap away as you feel something really hard enter your already drenched pussy. And before you can think things through, you felt absolutely nothing in your head, just pleasure. The world seems to align perfectly with Wanda´s and yours desires, creating a warm and euphoric feeling, gentle you could say. Or moan at the current state your in.

You feel like your in a dream. A very good one may Wanda add.

The enormous thing is going in and out of you like it was nothing. Wanda´s eyes are on you as she watches in awe how you didn´t resist at all. How naive you´ve been the whole time. How come little thing like you survived for such a long time in this cruel and scary world by yourself? It´s a miracle and Wanda already knows she can´t risk your well being any much longer. It is just the right time for someone to take care of you. And she´s doing a really good job at it.

As you think nothing can make you feel better, you feel the same wetness that is going in and out of you, sliding up and down your ass. Subconsciously you move, so your in better position for whatever is coming. And trust Wanda, there is always something coming.

It´s way slower and more gentle. Your mind is waiting only for one thing, a slight push. But Wanda wants to tease you for little bit, she wants your body to beg for it, when your head is too foggy to do so. You don´t feel embarrassed anymore, you don´t care. You need everything that Wanda will give you.

Wanda is still sipping on her wine as she watches you struggle, but she is feeling generous tonight, especially when she found you in this poor state, scared, weak, but mostly alone with no one who would saved you, but that will change, starting tonight at this moment.

She let her magic finally push in. As one tentacle is going in and out your pussy at the speed of light, the other one is sliding out of your ass so slow, that you start to move your hips for more. The third tentacle is slowly making its way to your clit, making you feel overstimulated.

And if Wanda was afraid you´ll be overthinking too much, now she knows you won´t ever think again. The sight of you, ruining her expensive couch with your juices is something she will make you do often. Because this is what you´ve been made to do.

You´re close and your voice is cracking from all the screaming you did tonight, Wanda finally stands up, putting her glass on the table and walks over to you, her hand finally touching you and going up and down your stomach as her red tentacles doing their own job. When her hand touches you, it's like a soothing embrace, that is also very harsh. You can feel the warmth radiating from her touch. In that moment, the outside world fades completly away, leaving you with the sensation of her touch.

She knows your close and she would love to see you fall apart, but she knows she can´t rush things. So after few squeezes of your tits and light pinch to each of your nipples, she stops. Completely. Everything. All of her magic disappearing and she makes a step back.

If you´d had any energy left you would scream, but right now, you´re just shaking on her couch. As the cold sensation envelops you, it's as if a thick dark fog descends upon your mind. The chill seeps into your thoughts, causing confusion and a sense of detachment. This cold, fuzzy feeling blurs your senses and creates an unsettling disconnect from the warmth and clarity you once knew. This is totally different from your fuzzy mind before, because at that time you were in pleasure, but now? You don´t have even that.

After a few minutes of you just laying there Wanda takes off your blindfold and you´re back in some clothes, that feels very soft. You blink a few times.

"What´s wrong, darling? You don´t like the new costume I made you?" She shushes you and wipe your falling tears. You look down, touching your new outfit, that honestly looks way better than the one you made yourself. You've got a long, black, flowing dress and a purple cloak with cool silver designs next to you. "I assumed you wouldn´t want a hat, since you didn´t had one earlier. But I made you this..." She gave you a small version of her pitch black journal.

"I- um..." You´re still shaken up from what happened before.

But what even happened before?

"You fell asleep, silly. It was hard to put those on, but look at you now!" Wanda smiles.

I slept?

"You had an intesne dream?" Wanda looks at you with concern and all you could do is just nod.

After a few minutes of complete silence Wanda comes back with a big bag full of sweets.

"Oh my god!" And your little mind is now occupied with sweets. Everything is good now.

"It´s all yours... like I´ve said. Your new outfit will make you bag full of your favorites." Wanda smiles and hands you the bag.

"Oh my god, thank you!" You take it without a beat.

"No, I thank you, darling. You know where to find me if you want more." Wanda winks and you feel this ache between your legs.

"I- uh huh." You nod once again.

As Wanda closed the door behind you, she knew right away, that you will be back soon. She needs you to come back by yourself, if she captured you now, it wouldn’t do a single good. And till that time, her magic will follow you everywhere, to make sure her new thing is safe. And that your mind is always occupied by really important things.

Wanda comes into the living room to clean, she looks at the couch that is still very wet and as she´s in her head a group of people appears behind her.

"How the hell do you always do this, Maximoff?" A tall blonde asks with jealousy in her voice.

"You always have the most naive ones and they literally come to you!" Other lady snarks.

Wanda smiles and turns around. "Well I think that this one will be open for some sharing. Literally." She smirks at her own joke.

Knock knock.

Wanda opens the door and to her surprise it´s you.

"Hai, um... i was thinking- I really like this one chocolate, but i found only one in the bag you gave me so uh, do you have maybe another one? I can trade it for something!" You smile at her.

Wanda is just looking at you with smile on her face. As you came way sooner and she doesn’t know what to say.

"Of course! We have plenty of those here and we will happily trade it with you for something else!" The blonde one almost pushed Wanda out of the way.

"Great! Thanks!" You happily walked back in.

Let´s just say, that after that night you had every sweet you ever wished for. And they had their own.

Oooof this was something. I need to get my writing spirit back, cuz this ain’t it.

Anyways thank you for reading!!!

#adele writes #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #kinktober 2023 #day four #witch!wanda #marvel universe

[rainba]

What's Rightfully Mine (Yan. Kairos! x GN! Reader)

A/N: OOuuuhh... I've read over this a billion times and I figure I may as well go ahead and upload it. ^^;;;;;;;;;;;; Matching artwork with the story...! Woohoo! (*´▽`*)

TWs: very graphic depictions of violence, disturbing yandere behaviors, mild gore, kidnapping, 18+ content....... Kairos being Kairos. Slight mention of virginity (but it's just Kairos' virginity) MDNI.

Wordcount: 2300~

((And thank you @x-v0id-x for reading over the fic for me before I posted it!!! ☆:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:☆ ))

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Kairos never meant for this to happen. 

He swears up and down that he never wanted to do it– he promises that he never intended to hurt anybody.

But he did anyway.

However… Can you blame him–?

You are Kairos’ one and only, his soulmate, his beloved, the reason he breathes, the reason he wakes up every morning, the reason why he’s still alive– you’re his everything! Was he supposed to just let you run off into the arms of another man without even attempting to fight back...?!

The way you looked at that filth– that disgusting, foul, no-good other man… It made Kairos sick to his stomach.

What even was that guy’s name...?

(####)? (######)? (######).

Yes, that’s his name, Kairos is sure of it.

It repeats itself in Kairos’ mind over and over again, piercing his skull like a blade that twists and twists until he’s left screaming for mercy at the top of his lungs.

“G-get out of my head! Get out! Get out get out get out! Leave me alone!”

Countless nights end in him violently waking up from the same nightmare– a nightmare where you and (######) run off together while he helplessly watches. And in the nightmare, you smile so brightly, but you’re only smiling at that bastard. It’s like Kairos is invisible as he desperately crawls towards you. He’s sobbing and begging for you not to leave him, but it’s as if you can’t hear him.

However, (######) can.

(######) spits on him, jeers at him, then laughs as he carries you far, far away.

In Kairos’ nightmares, the other man stomps on his neck as he spits out callous remarks.

“Nobody could ever love you.” He sneers.

“You’re nothing but a disgusting freak.”

Kairos knows he’s heard these things before– but he can’t remember who once told him that.

He feels so powerless when imagines you with (######) as he sleeps, and he can’t stop himself from thinking about it when he’s awake– it’s a never-ending tragedy that haunts every second of every day. The bags under his eyes have grown horrifyingly darker. Kairos had to make this stop.

He was desperate.

Kairos didn’t have a choice as he broke into that man’s house, sneaking in through the first-floor window and trudging down the darkened halls.

Kairos didn’t have a choice as he crept into the shadowy bedroom with a silver blade placed firmly in his hands, his back pocket harboring a rag soaked in chloroform.

The two of you were sleeping together so peacefully– you and that disgusting bastard.

That man looked so carefree; his chest rising and falling at a perfectly even pace. His arms were wrapped so warmly around you, holding you close in a tender embrace. The blankets covered your lower halves, and the man’s face was buried in the back of your neck.

The scene was so peaceful. Way too peaceful…

With tear-stricken eyes, Kairos couldn’t help but wonder: “why can’t that be me?”

Why does this man get to live a happy and carefree life, but not him? Why does this man get to hold you tightly in his arms, and not him? Why… Why… 

Why does Kairos never get what he wants? 

This feeling– this god awful feeling that Kairos is constantly haunted by: envy.

Envy… The one emotion he’s all-too familiar with. He doesn’t want to feel this way anymore– for once in his life, he wants to have something, and not just yearn for it.

In this moment, he knows that the only way to obtain happiness… 

Is simply to take it by force.

Kairos had to be fast– because if the man woke up before he could stun him, then he’d be quickly overpowered.

Before he focused on taking him out, Kairos tiptoed over to your side, his gaze softening for just a moment. He pulled out the rag from his back pocket and placed it gently under your nose, covering all your airways. He knew he had to wait a few minutes– he had to make sure that you won’t wake up any time soon. So, while he stood there, he lovingly petted your hair and left little kisses on your forehead. When he was certain that the chloroform settled in, his heart started to tighten in his chest.

Adrenaline struck him like lightning as he snuck around the side of the bed, his purple eyes locked in on his target. For the first time in his life, Kairos was no longer the victim.

Nervous sweat dribbled down the sides of his face as he held the blade up high, positioning the pointed end towards the man’s exposed throat. Kairos could have turned back– he could have easily put the knife away and let you both go free. But he loved you too badly. He needed you too badly.

This was it.

He jabbed the knife deep into the man’s neck, hoping that would prevent any screams.

And it worked.

(######) jolted awake in horror as his mind raced to figure out what was happening. He threw his hands onto the wound and tried so desperately to stop the bleeding, but it was futile. It was so, so futile. Gurgled sounds bounced off the walls as a bloody rampage ensued right beside you.

Seeing the red gushing out flipped a switch in Kairos’ mind. He doesn’t know why he lost control– he doesn’t know how it happened– but it did.

Kairos’ vision went black as he fully jumped on top of the bed, plunging the knife into (######)’s body over and over and over again.

Slash, slash, slash.

A horrifying symphony: the sound of flesh being sliced apart.

The man’s muffled cries were like music to Kairos’ ears.

He choked and he gagged, whimpered and wailed, but coherent words of pleas were unable to escape his mouth. Every time he tried to kick Kairos off, Kairos would stab him in his legs. Every time the man tried to push him off, Kairos would slash the palm of his hands. Kairos thought for sure that he’d be overpowered, but the adrenaline in his veins gave him strength that he never knew he had.

And there was blood.

Blood everywhere.

“M-mine, mine, mine… They’re mine...!” Kairos mumbled manically under his breath, his focus flipping back and forth between you and his victim. But– it wasn’t just Kairos that looked over at you. Your partner did as well.

His shimmering eyes stared at you longingly– so lovingly... Too lovingly.

It made Kairos’ blood boil.

Through gritted teeth, he spat out, “n-no, you don’t get to look at them...! Don’t look at them ever again!”

Then… Slash.

The silver knife plunged deep into his eyes– thick blood spewing out from the wound.

Kairos can barely remember what happened after that. All he knew was that, eventually, the man ceased to struggle.

His black hoodie was now soaked in blood- his quivering hands completely red. It dripped from his cheeks and onto the corpse beneath him– the entire world was spinning dizzyingly fast.

(######)’s body was painted in deep lacerations, and his face was disfigured to the point of him being unrecognizable. Something about it was so… So…

Exciting.

 It was done now. It was over.

There was nobody in this world who could take you away from him.

And the thought of that made him smile.

Kairos laughed– he laughed so joyously, laughed so carefree.

Kairos’ mind was an incoherent mess. A horrible, horrible mess.

And he doesn’t know why it happened– he doesn’t know how it happened– in one moment, he was attacking that man, but in the next…

“M-mine… Mine… You’re f-finally mine!”

His pale hands were shaking as they savagely tore away your thin clothing. Kairos pushed your ex-lover’s corpse onto the floor as he kissed your lips with the intensity of a starved animal.

Your lips were so much softer than he imagined– so much sweeter, too. He couldn’t contain his excitement anymore– after all, this night marks the beginnings of a new and wonderful life!! 

And now, he also just gave you his first kiss! 

The silver light of the moon was glowing on his face, illuminating the dark red blood that stained his skin. He was a monster– a selfish freak that craved your love more than anything else.

There really was no rhyme or reason to anything Kairos was doing. At that moment, he just wanted to feel good; he needed to feel your warmth.

In one second, he was desperately humping your leg while holding your hips in place. In the next, he was kissing your stomach and fervently licking your chest. He knows that you can’t feel it, but that’s beside the point– he uses this time as practice, so that when you are awake, you’ll be feeling nothing but bliss! And besides… You just taste so good; he can’t help himself.

Kairos kisses and bites at your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a faint trail of needy marks. Without thinking, he pulls out his cock and begins to jerk himself off. He parts his mouth and rambles to himself.

“I’ll… I’ll m-make sure nobody finds you! Nobody!”

Kairos sticks out his tongue and licks over your left nipple; he does it a few more times before fully sucking on it. The lewd act sends a shiver down his spine.

It’s so hot, so naughty, and ultimately entirely new to him. He’s never been so turned on before.

“W-we’ll live happily together, alone in my apartment! And you’ll be s-so happy!”

He speaks as if you can hear him– and deep down, he almost wishes that you could. Kairos crawls up further onto the bed and digs his knees into your shoulders, the shadow of his cock looming over your perfect face. It’s so close to you– so, so close– god, he still wishes you were awake right now. But he knows you’d fight him off if you knew what was going on.

“I’ll f-feed you every day, and– And I’ll learn how to cook for you! I– I can watch videos online… I promise I’ll learn… J-just for you!”

He strokes himself even faster, soft wet sounds echoing off the bloodied walls. Kairos lifts the chloroform rag away from your mouth but keeps it over your nose. He presses his tip against your lips as he keeps going, his precum slowly dribbling down your chin.

“W-we can make love every single night...! I’ll… I’ll make you feel so, so good… I…” A shiver runs up and down his spine as a whiney moan escapes him.

“M-my virginity… It’s… It’s all yours...! Ahh…” 

His eyes squeeze shut as a hot sting of pleasure surges through him.

“D-doesn’t that sound wonderful!? I’m all yours, my love!”

Kairos pushes his cock a little closer to your lips– but he does it a bit too aggressively, the tip of it scraping against your teeth. God, he would give anything for you to suck on it– even if only for a fraction of a second.

“Th-then we can have a family one day!! I’ll– I’ll get my job going, I… I’ll m-make more money! Lots of money! W-we can adopt… We can…”

With his one free hand, Kairos reaches down and begins to stroke your hair, leaving blood stains all throughout it. 

“J-just us two, only u-us two… Nobody… Else!” 

The pace of his hand quickens as his head starts to tilt backwards, his breathing growing out of control. His chest heaves as he erratically chases his high, yearning so badly to feel it hit him all at once.

He can’t help but imagine how wonderful the future will be– your all's future together. Then he imagines the way you’ll be all tied up in his bed, completely naked and vulnerable for him…

Just like you are now.

“F-fuck..!”

It’s all too much– Kairos’ cock twitches as he cums all over your face, some of it pouring into your mouth and on your cheeks. He squeezes as much of it out as he possibly can, craving to see you drenched in it. Throughout it all, you still sleep so peacefully… All thanks to the chloroform.

He can’t help but think that you look so cute when you’re knocked out and covered in his cum.

Ah… if only he could draw you in this state.

Even though he so badly wants to collapse by your side and cuddle you, he knows that he has to move. There is quite literally a dead body in the room and blood on his hands– he has to clean up.

And he also has to find a way to sneak your body to his broken-down car outside.

Very reluctantly, he kisses you on your forehead, smiling sweetly. “I’ll… I’ll be back, my love!”

After a while of stumbling, he finds himself entering the bathroom.

When he looks in the mirror, his eyes widen partially in horror. Kairos knew this side of himself existed deep within him… He knew there was a disgusting monster that laid dormant in his chest, but he had never before seen it come out so fiercely.

His pupils were small, his purple eyes hauntingly beautiful. And on top of that, he was grinning.

It was the first time he had genuinely smiled in weeks– maybe even months.

Kairos turned on the sink to wash off his face, but he only seemed to be making more of a mess. Blood streamed down the sides of the sink and pooled in the drain. Despite how macabre it all was, he just couldn’t stop smiling– because now he has everything he could ever want: you.

All to himself… Forever.

Until death do you part.

#teehee #silly kairos moment #yandere oc x reader #yandere #yancore #yandere male #yandere fic #male yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere x darling

[1d1195]

Love and Dryer Sheets III

Sorry for the wait. Hope you like it :)

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

Just under 6k words

Warnings: emotional cheating, physical cheating, toxic relationships, arguing, etc.

Of course, she wanted to know his deepest thoughts. His desires. She wanted to know what his lips felt like on hers. How he took his coffee and whether he liked to sleep with the window open or closed. But that wasn’t her job to know. They had these moments in the laundry room and that was enough.

For now.

True to form, Harry continued to do the most inane loads of laundry. At one point he had just a towel, a T-shirt, and a sock. Hiding his odd loads of items from her—so he wasn’t so obviously following her to the laundry room so often—was the hard part. Fortunately, she never seemed to notice. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything.

Maybe she wants to see you, too. Harry’s heart had developed its own independent voice. He could feel it and hear it when he was around her. It was much kinder than his conscience and was all for Harry falling in love with the woman in the laundry room. He was burning through his jug of detergent. Ava paid no attention to it as much as Miss Sunshine paid no mind to his weird array of wash. Harry was lucky because Ava still brought her laundry to her mum’s house when she visited on a fairly weekly bais, so she didn’t have to sit with her laundry in the communal room. So, she didn’t have a clue about Harry’s laundry partner.

It was also how Harry had kept Ava’s presence a secret from his personal, human-form of sunshine.

You’re an idiot.

Harry ignored his conscience completely. As if it hadn’t whispered a thing to him.

Over the course of the next few months, Harry watched her read no less than six books and they chatted about most of everything and anything. Harry hadn’t felt so at ease around someone in ages. It made him so...confused. It felt like all the tension in his body released at once when he was around her. He doesn’t remember the last time he wasn’t tense for such substantial time periods.

Maybe if she hadn’t offered to share her laundry detergent, he would have continued to feel tense. If she wasn’t so nice, he might not have even noticed her sitting on top of the washer. He wouldn’t think about how soft her hair looked and how he wanted to slide his fingers through it. There wouldn’t be a thought about her giggle and how every time he saw The Wizard of Oz on the cable line up, he wanted to head down to her apartment to let her know—or ask to watch it with her.

“Have y’ever seen Wicked?” He asked her during one of their reading and waiting sessions. She placed a finger on her page making sure not to lose her spot.

She shook her head with a knowing smirk. “It’s on my list, but I can’t justify the cost right now.”

“They don’t pay y’a billion for being an angel at the hospital?” He asked with a smirk.

It felt like Harry was winning a competition he didn’t even know he entered every time she laughed at his jokes. “No, not really,” she shook her head. Their books were nearly forgotten so quickly. They were mirroring one another sitting on top of their washers. Her heels lightly bumped into the front of the machine, and they were just smiling at each other like they had been friends for their whole lives. They didn’t have to talk. He simply enjoyed her happy, sunshiney company.

Jesus Christ. His conscience was still trying even though he stopped listening to it. It was futile. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop how he felt. Even if it was wrong. Harry would simply push the feelings back as much as he could. However, his heart—with it’s independent voice—would only let him push his emotions down so much.

Harry found himself heading to the laundry room before she got there some days. It took some time to map out her schedule, but he seemed to find a pattern of every three to four days she would be lugging some of her stuff down to the basement. Fortunately, his conscience had gotten through to him to say he shouldn’t be stalking the laundry room. It should be a little more of a chance of finding her there and so he began doing at least one load a week without her.

“Hey munchkin,” her light voice nearly sent a shiver down his spine as she entered. It took Harry all the willpower in the world to not spin around at the sound immediately. Instead, he smirked at the little nickname. It was fitting of course, that she would choose it. It was ironic, as Harry was tall and far from a munchkin. But it was as adorable as she was, and Harry would respond to it for the rest of his life—especially if it came from her lips.

Easy. His brain continued to warn him, despite Harry having not acknowledged the voice of reason in months. But even Harry recognized it was dangerous to let her get so attached. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her because of his own idiocy.

“What d’you mean y’don’t like fried cauliflower?!” He ran his hands over his face like this was the worst grievance she could ever muster. Maybe it was. Harry was certain someone was lovely as she was couldn’t truly make someone annoyed. He couldn’t imagine fighting with her the way he fought with Ava.

Stop. His brain tried to remind him that thoughts like that weren’t okay. He shouldn’t be thinking about Ava and Miss Sunshine in the same wavelength. It was bad, number one. But it was also a slippery slope to being an absolute disaster of messing up a name and he needed this calm for a little while longer. The catastrophe of emotions Harry had raging in his heart and mind was overwhelming. He was going to mess up; he could feel it. If he didn’t miss this calm, this warmth, the sunshine so very much he would have worried more about the impending storm.

“If I’m being honest, I had the taste buds of a picky ten-year-old for the longest time; so I haven’t tried fried cauliflower in a long time. So, I’m open to giving it another chance.”

Harry’s smile made her feel like she could fly if he asked her to. His dimples made her stomach flutter with a thousand butterflies. She wished he would ask her to dinner. She wanted to try fried cauliflower again. If he did ask, she would gladly justify the cost of Wicked tickets. Sitting with him in the laundry room for the last couple of months made her so happy. It brightened her whole week, and she was glad he had as much laundry as he did so she could see him so often. She should have just asked him out. It was a brave thing to do and there was nothing really stopping her from doing so.

Except the idea that if he said no, she would have to find a new place to do laundry because she would never want to see him again. Maybe he was just friendly and liked having the company during such a boring chore.

When he smiled, she could swear he seemed happier than he had when he entered the laundry room. Regardless of if he already was happy. Maybe it was just wishful thinking; maybe it was her projecting how she felt the moment Harry’s foot crossed the threshold of the room. It was nice chatting with Harry. Most of the conversations were light—like fried cauliflower and which Spider-man was best (she was extremely partial to Andrew Garfield, but Harry was a firm believer Tobey Maguire did it best).

But over the course of their friendship, she could recognize when he was having a bad day. “Something wrong, munchkin?” She asked when he stared off to the wall and not his book. The only sound in the room was their washers humming quietly below them. He didn’t answer right away, and she waited patiently. Something she took home from work. Sometimes people needed a moment to process what they were feeling because they couldn’t form what they were feeling just yet.

“Sometimes I think m’not going t’be a good dad,” he mumbled.

She felt her heart and stomach flip in equal parts. The idea of Harry as a dad—even though she hadn’t known him that long, and certainly shouldn’t have been thinking about him in that context—had her ovaries aching for something that wasn’t hers to ache for.

“I think that’s a rational fear for anyone,” she said gently. He shrugged, still didn’t look at her. He crossed his ankles, his heels bumping into the washer. “Are you going to be a dad soon?” She asked with a smirk. It was a curious question, but a genuine one. His relationships were none of her business. They hadn’t done anything. They weren’t doing anything wrong. She called Niall nicknames all the time.

It was fine. For now.

Of course, she wanted to know his deepest thoughts. His desires. She wanted to know what his lips felt like on hers. How he took his coffee and whether he liked to sleep with the window open or closed. But that wasn’t her job to know. They had these moments in the laundry room and that was enough.

For now.

But when he looked at her finally, her heart felt a crack in it that made her want to take back her question. His expression was a bit cutting and she felt a little taken aback by such a cold look on his normally warm face. She felt embarrassed she had asked it; making her face warm at his irritated look. “No,” he murmured. He was reading about a couple staying in a relationship that the main character didn’t love as much as he used to. It got him thinking about the idea of staying with Ava. What that would do to their already tense relationship. How it would affect his relationship with children if he didn’t change something...soon. Instead of voicing all those worries, he went with the one that really did weigh on his mind frequently. Another problem he didn’t have a solution to. “But...m’dad wasn’t ‘round a lot growing up. S’not like...’ve got a good role model t’think ‘bout y’know?”

She let the words fall over them for a few moments. In case Harry wanted to add to his statement or revise something. If he wanted to take it back... It was a personal notion. Talking about something so deep and serious was like a new step in their relationship—whatever relationship it was that they had, didn’t matter—and would make it deeper and stronger itself. “Well,” she cleared her throat quietly. “I think you just worrying about that will make you a good dad,” she said softly.

His face softened back to its natural, Harry-looking face that made her feel warm and fuzzy again. “Thanks, Sunshine,” he said softly.

She felt like she had to share something equally heavy. Just so Harry wouldn’t feel out of place, and sound so sad dealing with his own emotions. “I feel like my mom and dad have made it hard for me to believe in love that lasts forever,” she looked at her hands gripping the sides of her book. It was such a hard thing to admit. She hadn’t really told anyone that besides Niall.

Harry tilted his head curiously at her. That was quite the thing to disclose to Harry. But he found his heart aching for her. It worried him because she was so lovely, and she deserved the kindest, deepest love. He could tell just from sitting in the room with her over the last few months that she deserved that. “You’re not your parents, love,” he reminded her. “Think if y’don’t want a love like theirs, you’ll find the one y’do want,” he murmured. “S’not like y’need a heart from a wizard or anything,” he joked.

She smiled and nodded. It seemed like it was too good to be true that Harry would quote her favorite book to her. Especially when she was vulnerable and voicing something that hurt her—especially after a recent breakup. But Harry was real. He was sitting there; telling her his deepest thoughts or making her laugh with a lame joke or sharing a recipe about his favorite kind of brussels sprouts.

“Thanks, Harry,” she whispered softly feeling her heart rate slow to nearly nothing.

“You’re welcome, Sunshine.”

They went back to their books, stealing glances at one another until her washer finished its cycle. “Do you...fold your page down in your book?” He asked. He thought he had imagined it the first time. But this was...

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes throwing her stuff into the basket to transfer to the dryer.

“Kitten... s’unnatural.”

She snorted, smiling so brightly Harry swore it cured him of the sadness he was feeling before. “I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle too,” she giggled.

He shook his head melodramatically and smirked. “Somehow, I think we’ll get along anyway," he murmured and it made her toes nearly curl with want for him and his mouth all over her body. "Even if y'a serial killer."

*

Niall was laying on her sofa while she cooked in the kitchen. It was his favorite of her dishes: chicken parmesan. Her specialty. Plus, she made garlic bread from scratch that had Niall salivating with the scent wafting through her apartment.

“Have y’seen Harry around?” He asked as he flipped through different titles looking for a movie to watch. He thought he might settle on The Wizard of Oz because it had been a while since they had watched it together.

She was sprinkling shredded cheese across the dish and nodded even though Niall couldn’t see. Her heart felt fluttery, and her stomach did its flip that it always did when she thought about or saw Harry. “Yeah...just...in the laundry room.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Niall.”

“I’ve never had washing machine sex myself, but I imagine all the vibration would work wonders for you,” he continued anyway.

“Niall,” she groaned feeling flushed and awkward that even she had those thoughts about Harry. “I’m gonna spit in your food.”

He rotated from his supine position and turned to lean over the back of the sofa. It gave him a better look at his best friend making dinner in the kitchen. “You’re awfully sensitive about him, darling,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s cute, funny, nice, smart...he checks all the boxes,” she murmured quietly.

Niall knew what she was getting at though. He could see it in her face and hear it in her voice. “But...?”

“I don’t know...doesn’t he seem too good to be true?”

Niall looked at her with a sympathetic smile. “Think you might be harboring some emotions from your last relationship, princess,” Niall’s voice was gentle. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed in front of Niall. But she could feel the anxiety that was clearly going to riddle every relationship she had going forward. That worried her and made her feel...bad. So maybe she should just listen to Niall. Maybe she was overthinking it—of course she was overthinking it! Or even if Harry was too good to be true...wasn’t there something nice about him just...being nice to her? After all that bad stuff and hard stuff that she went through? It wasn’t like she had to marry him or anything. It was just nice to talk to someone who seemed to enjoy her company and didn’t make her feel like she had to walk around on eggshells.

“I told Harry about my mom and dad,” she responded instead of confirming or denying his statement.

Niall raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. That was a feat to say the least. “Really?”

“Well...he said something about how he thought he would be a bad dad... I thought—well... I wanted to share something similar, you know?”

Niall adored her and her kind, empathetic brain. “Yeah. I know,” he smiled encouragingly. “What did he say?”

She sighed. After she finished with the cheese, she slid the dish into the oven and sauntered over to the sofa. She fell beside Niall and laid her head on his leg. He fiddled with the strands of her hair comfortingly. “I mean...I didn’t give him a lot of information...but he was really understanding all the same. Quoted something about the Tin Man.”

Niall smirked. “He sounds like your soulmate, darling,” there was an obvious tone in Niall’s voice. Like she didn’t already know that.

“I really like him, Niall,” she admitted quietly. “Like really like him. I can’t stop thinking about him,” she whispered.

Niall wanted her to be happy. Happy as she possibly could be. “I bet he likes you too.”

She was still so unsure. It had been months. He should have asked her out by now. It wasn’t like she wasn’t obvious. She was calling one of the tallest men she was friends with munchkin for Christ’s sake. She thought they were friends, but she didn’t even have his phone number. They never spoke outside the laundry room.

But it was undeniable that there was something there. She felt it in her heart, her mind, and all the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he entered the same room as her. “I hope so,” she looked sadly toward the TV excited to see the intro credits of her favorite movie. “He’d be a really good scarecrow to my Dorothy.”

*

“Ava. I cannot keep doing this,” he pressed his hands into his eyes.

She glared at him. “I’m not the problem.”

Harry hated this. He didn’t want a my-fault-your-fault relationship. If there were going to be issues, he wanted to fix them. Relationships weren’t perfect. Never. Not even the best ones out there. His was far from perfect. But maybe it had a chance at one point in time. It didn’t seem like it anymore.

Now, Ava just made him mad. Harry felt alone even when she was in the room. More alone than when she wasn’t in the room.

Today, it was that she couldn’t find her keys and Harry said something like he hadn’t seen them. Did you check the car? Because sometimes Ava would think she dropped them in her bag, but they’d slide right back to the floor, and she wouldn’t notice. This comment resulted in her eye roll, her irritation with Harry’s obvious question. Of course, I checked the car, I’m not an idiot.

The insinuation that Harry would insult her made him angry. He liked to believe he was kind; even when it was hard. Even when Ava made him so mad, he was shaking.

They began searching for her keychain, room by room fighting about something new in every room. Harry looked under the sofa, pulling a pair of his socks covered in dust bunnies sparked the first peripheral argument. Can you not leave your socks lying around?

In the fridge, in case she put it in there when grabbing a bottle of water. The original fight now spiraled into who left the dishes in the sink?

The bathroom: why was the washcloth on the floor?

The sitting room under the coffee table: When you leave the room, could you turn the TV off?  Why is your phone volume maxed to the top?

“What is the point of all this Ava, all we do is argue about everything!?” Harry snapped as he slammed the bathroom door shut for two seconds of peace while he looked in her makeup drawer; maybe she was touching up her makeup and dropped them in there.

“We don’t just argue,” she sighed bitterly through the closed door. “Be serious Harry!”

“You’re going t’argue ‘bout how much we argue? Cute. Real fucking cute, love.”

“Jesus, Harry. Quit being so defensive!”

“Defensive?!” He hissed. “M’trying t’help you find your keys and y’act like I killed a dog in every room!”

He opened the door and found her leaning against the opposite wall, her bag over her shoulder waiting for this search to be over so she could go wherever she was headed. “Where are y’even going?” He asked as he went to their bedroom and looked under the bed.

“Out for a coworker’s birthday dinner.”

“Alone?”

“What y’don’t trust me?” The accusation was thick in her voice.

“Ava, for the love of God,” he practically growled. “Y’don’t invite me anywhere anymore, I was jus’ asking if it was a significant other thing—I would go with you. Christ.”

“We don’t need people to see us argue over appetizers,” she muttered. “But no, it’s not.”

Harry ignored her comment about arguing about appetizers. “Why don’t y’take my car and I’ll look for your keys,” he suggested quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t like driving your car. The seat settings are weird and it’s hard for me to park it.”

“D’you want me t’drop you off and pick you up?” He asked.

She sighed dramatically. “I’ll just Uber.”

Harry was going to lose his mind. “Are y’serious?” He wondered following her retreating figure to the main room again. “You don’t even want your coworkers to see me? What, do y’think we’ll fight in the parking lot?”

“I never know with you Harry,” she shrugged with a dramatic, exhausted sigh. It was the same way Harry felt. She went to the closet to grab her coat and Harry heard the distinct jingle of her keys in the pocket as she pulled the jacket off the hanger.

Harry stared at her blankly. Emotionless. Not a sorry or a thank you for looking fell from her mouth. She didn’t even look apologetic as she slid her coat on wordlessly. “I forgot I wore this when I was out last,” she mumbled as she exited the apartment.

Normally after a fight—or a series of fights like that—the moment Harry had a second to himself he felt almost instantly better. But today all he felt was more anger. All of it. Down to the very smallest atoms of his bones. It hurt him as if she had reached in and yanked his heart out. He didn’t know why. He didn’t understand why this fight about keys made him so angry that he couldn’t shake the feeling. Not even a little.

He paced for a few minutes trying to calm his breathing. Trying to get the anger out of his chest, his head, every blood cell that was boiling with frustration.

It wasn’t just keys, washcloths, and dishes. It was everything. They were always arguing. It could have been a world record. They had to have the fastest time for arguing over nothing. But even though the fights were so trivial they built and built until it wasn’t just stupid little things.

They didn’t work. At least not anymore. They were broken. Maybe forever. Harry would have to start over. He would have to move out. Gemma would say I told you so. Mum would be understanding but would tell him she never liked Ava and he would have to try and justify why he stayed so long and it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn't want to justify anything. It wasn't anyone's business...

But he knew it was true. Deep down, he knew. Then, his mind and heart would be broken. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Before his conscience or his heart could say anything internally, he was hurrying down the stairs; his body moving almost of its own accord. It caused the slightest relief in his veins. He could feel the simmering boil slow just a fraction.

It was bad. A bad idea. A bad move. It was just bad.

But Harry was tired of being angry.

The only time he wasn’t angry was when he was enjoying the warmth of sunshine.

*

“Hey munchkin,” she smirked as he entered the basement. She was so used to his tall frame taking up the entryway she didn't even have to fully look to see that it was him coming down the steps. She did a double take looking at the lack of a basket. He was frazzled. Her smirk turned to a frown in an instant. “Harry? Are you... okay...? ... Munchkin?” She asked, her voice trailing off. She dropped the towel she was folding into the basket, and she reached out like she wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. She hadn’t touched him in the months that she had known him but she was willing to do it now. God, she would have done it earlier and for less. The anxiety that was laced in his features made her nervous. Her heart felt a heaviness seeing how upset he felt so evidently on his beautiful face.

The second his name left her lips, his mouth was on hers.

Harry felt whole. The anger was gone. Truly. It was like she transferred all that warmth, kindness, and peace right through her lips and into Harry’s mouth. It was like holding actual sunshine. He forgot everything. He didn’t think of work, his book, laundry. He didn’t think of Ava, Gemma, anyone or anything.

He was kissing her, that was the only thing he could remember and focus on and not one thing else.

They were lucky no one else was in the laundry room to witness their make out session. Harry’s lips felt like pillowy little clouds and his chapstick had a coconutty taste to it that offset the minty flavor of his gum. It made her dizzy to finally taste him. Her hands bunched fistfuls of his T-shirt against his sides.

His fingers slid from being curled into her hair on either side of her face down her neck leaving a wake of shivers and goosebumps in their path. He touched the outside of her hips and tried to guide her and lift her to sit atop the washing machine as she always did. But this time was going to be for an entirely different purpose.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, causing a gasp of air to escape Harry’s mouth.

“Not here,” she whispered into his neck, her voice hardly carrying through the air.

She wasn’t wrong. Fucking in the laundry room was definitely not classy. She deserved classy and time. She needed everything that was good.

Also, it’s very wrong. His conscience reminded him. But Harry could hardly hear the irritating little voice.

“Where?” He hummed, his lips sliding down the side of her neck. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to lose the last of her coherent thought and she would end up doing something stupid with Harry in the public laundry room.

She pulled from his embrace, grabbing his hand and tugged him up the steps to the lobby. Harry nearly tripped on the last step causing her to giggle. They rode the elevator to the third floor, their hands intertwined with one another, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how perfect it felt. Their smiles and giggles escaped them like two teenagers hiding from their parents while they made out in their bedroom. The kissing ensued the second they were alone on the elevator this time she pressed herself against the length of Harry and he wrapped his arms around her back pulling her tight to him as they ascended the passing floors.

Arriving on the third floor, she pushed her door out of the way and almost immediately Harry had her backed against it, his body trapping her against the door. She felt so warm but Harry’s lips on hers made it all worth it. Her heart rate was the speed of a hummingbird. His body was so strong and warm. She moaned into his lips making him squeeze her toward him. He answered with a groan of his own. He pulled back momentarily to let them breathe but as he did his eye caught the photo of her, Niall, and who he assumed was her family. It was in a frame that said There is no place like home.

While she was kissing his neck, making his body hard and soft all at the same time, he smirked releasing a chuckle. “You’re going to laugh while I’m kissing you?" She mumbled into his skin in annoyance.

He laughed a little harder. “Oh, sorry, Sunshine,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead while she continued pecking along his collarbone that peeked out from his T-shirt. “Caught the photo there,” he murmured. She turned around in the circle of his arms. Harry wrapped them loosely around her waist from behind so she could look at what caused the distraction. As she looked over the photo herself, he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. The smile on her face that Harry could see sort of reflected in the glass of the picture frame, looked like one of adoration and love. Harry hoped she would look at him like that one day. “You’re so adorable,” he mumbled into her hair. “Why d’you like The Wizard of Oz so much?” He asked.

She pulled his arm from around her and tugged him toward her living area where the bookshelf displayed all the editions she had of her favorite book. Carefully, she tugged one version of it off the shelf and flipped it open to page 189, because of course she knew the exact quote she was looking for. All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty.

It was highlighted in yellow. Harry read it three times. Each time he read it, it felt like he understood her a little more. Each of the three sentences seemed to take prominence on each read through and the last phrase especially, made him think she was some sort of superhero.

While he read, he held the book so carefully in his hands. His finger brushing softly on the page as he pointed to the words. She watched his eyes scan the page almost as gently as he touched the paper. She could see he was digesting the words and it felt so vulnerable. This was her favorite book. Her favorite quote. The way he caressed the book was delicate; the moment was so fragile and made her feel so exposed.

“I don’t know what kind of danger you’ve faced, kitten. But I think you’re the most courageous woman I know.”

Her heart felt so full but weak at the same time. It was like Harry made her feel like she could do anything but that she didn’t have to because he would hold her the way he held her favorite book. It took every ounce of restraint in her to not shed a tear.

“Y’collect them?” He asked.

Clearing her throat, she was grateful for the distraction. She nodded quickly. “Yeah…I think it was a joke at first. Mom and my sister both got me a copy for my birthday. But then every time someone who knew me came across it, I got a new one. Then it was like...everyone we knew was looking. But we were all actually finding copies that were cool and stuff.”

Harry thought he would implode from how cute she was. He hoped to find an edition she didn't have. But even if he didn't, he knew she would appreciate the gesture all the same. He was glad there were people in her life who knew she liked the book. Glad that they appreciated her love for something so...pure.

So as not to say something crazy like he adored her and would buy any copy he came across for her as long as they lived, Harry looked at the remainder of her bookshelf. “Quite the collection of other books y’got, Sunshine,” he smiled bending down to examine the titles on the bottom shelf.

“I have another shelf in my room,” she said.

“Oh?” So, she showed him. There was a run of the mill copy of it on this shelf—she would put one in every room she told him. “It’s comforting, you know?” Harry didn’t really know. He didn’t feel an attachment to a book like that, but he was already obsessed with how comforted he felt around her. From the very moment he met her when she made his anger lessen, made him feel a little better than before he knew her. A little picture frame held a quote on her wall that read We’re not in Kansas anymore.

Then they started chatting about the CDs she had on another shelf. Which got them talking about music. Then she showed him the bathroom and how she found this nifty dispenser for toothpaste and mouth wash. "So I don't have to squeeze it in the middle," she joked. In her kitchen, they looked at photos on her fridge and sifted through recipes in a cookbook that she had written down. “I’m a little old fashioned sometimes. But I think cookbooks are cute,” she shrugged. Harry thought it was adorable, of course. Harry felt like he hadn’t laughed so hard in his whole life being in apartment 304. It felt like...

Well, it felt like there was no place like home.

Eventually a timer on her phone went off pulling them both back to the real world--her failsafe in case there was something she forgot in her apartment while she sat in the laundry room. Harry frowned as she shut off the alert and she turned back to him. “Gotta check on my clothes,” she whispered.

At the same time Harry’s phone vibrated: a message from Ava.

In the last forty-five minutes he completely forgot about Ava’s existence. “Ah,” he shook his head. The anger started to bubble in the pit of his stomach. “S’okay,” or maybe that was guilt.

It should be guilt. His conscience reminded him. That was bad. Even the regular part of Harry’s mind knew how terrible it was that he forgot about Ava.

He kissed another woman.

She’s probably my soulmate. He told his conscience. As if that would fix the problem.

You need to do the right thing. It answered simply. That he could agree with his conscience.

She fluffed her hair, fixed her shirt, and rolled those soft, warm, sweet lips he was already obsessed with into her mouth awkwardly. She gestured toward the door and Harry exited first. They hit buttons for the elevator, going in opposite directions. “I’ll...see you later?” She asked as the elevator alerted the pair of them the elevator was on the rise.

Harry nodded. “Yes,” that he was certain.

“Um...” she bit the inside of her lip and peered up at him nervously. It was sad and adorable all at once. She was perfect, stunning, lovely. Her mind was just as beautiful as she was. Harry thought her heart was unbearably kind and all he wanted to do was worship her and her sweet self.

Harry was an asshole.

“That was...nice,” she whispered softly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement with an awkward smile. His brain was starting to take back over again. “It was really nice,” he assured her making the relief on her face palpable. For that, he wanted the elevator to crush him.

The lift pinged with it’s arrival to descend back to the lobby. “See you around, munchkin,” she said quietly and kissed his cheek before she stepped onto the elevator. He felt sick to his stomach while he watched the doors close on her sweet, smiling face.

Finally. His conscience sighed with relief.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina

Love and Dryer Sheets: @st-ev-ie @lovrave

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love and dryer sheets

[ashwhowrites]

Can I request Angst 40 with Eddie? But instead of God that's playing house it's Dustin and the Hellfire club. Maybe reader and Eddie have been fighting or they're ignoring their mutual feelings and it's coming through in Eddie's campaigns?

You're angst is amazing and I'm hoping for a happy ending, but do whatever you think fits best! :)

Absolutely! I think I should be able to give it a happy ending.

Thank you so much!

“Seven billion people in the world and I got put in a room with you. Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house with us.”

Ever since a new girl joined hellfire, her and Eddie have been down each other's throats.

Y/N was the only girl in hellfire for the longest time. Using this time to flirt her way into Eddie's life, and trying into his heart. She had a crush on Eddie ever since she met him during her freshmen year.

Eddie was hard to read. At times he flirted back and other times he acted like he didn't know who she was. She was on this endless rollercoaster and Eddie seemed to never turn it off. She made her feelings obvious, or so she thought. She's pretty sure all of hellfire knows she's into their leader but he seems clueless or not interested.

She'd compliment him every day, sneaking dirty jokes in between.

"wow Eddie that shirt fits your arms so nice. Can I feel them?"

"Those jeans fit your thighs really nice."

How is that not obvious? But it was confirmed he didn't like her in that way when he introduced Lilly to the group.

She was a tall blonde with green eyes. A smile that caught everyone's attention, and it definitely caught Eddie's.

"you can sit next to me." He smiled as she followed him to his seat.

Y/N looked at him confused, there wasn't an open seat next to him.

"move over Y/N." He said as he waved his hands to shoo her.

Y/N felt like she wanted to smack him so hard his hair would fly off. He had the nerve to tell her to move so a new girl could sit?

"Excuse me? This is my spot, it always has been." She stood up for herself.

The group watches them closely, feeling the tension get tighter and hotter.

"Yeah but Lilly is new and needs to be close to the master so I can show her." He smirked as he explained, winking in Lilly's direction. Y/N rolled her eyes as she giggled, covering her mouth.

Y/N decided not to fight and bit her tongue. Getting out of her chair, scraping it loudly across the floor.

The group watched silently, not believing the way Eddie was behaving.

Lilly sat next to Eddie and scooter the chair as close as she could.

Y/N tried to focus on the game, not on the fact Eddie was flirting his way through his whole campaign.

Towards the end she could feel the tears landing in her eyes. Hearing Eddie call this new girl beautiful every five seconds. Touching her hands as she rolled the dice. Cheering her on when she landed a good roll.

It reminded her of when she first learned. She remembered sitting in that chair trying so hard to impress Eddie. She stayed up night after night reading every book the library had. Even paying Dustin to teach her how to play. She remembered when Eddie called her beautiful every time. When his hand would hold hers as she rolled the dice.

Everything they did, he was doing with Lilly. Everything she thought that was special for them, was apparently just a thing he did with the new girls.

~~

It didn't get much easier for her.

Lilly came back session after session. She was getting better, Y/N would admit that. But that just meant she'd be staying.

She even has her own hellfire shirt now. Lilly's new spot was next to Eddie. Y/N's new spot was on the other side next to Dustin. Dustin tried to cheer her up at every campaign but it was hard when her eyes watched Eddie the whole time. Dustin knew all about her crush on Eddie's for years.

He encouraged her many times to make a move, and in some ways she did. She just never said exactly what she was feeling. Dustin knew his leader as well. And he knew he has feelings for Y/N. He just hasn't admitted it to himself yet. And as each day passed he could see Eddie ruining his chances more and more.

~~

Lilly has been part of hellfire for a month now and Y/N hadn't spoken to Eddie alone since.

Her flirting stopped, now embarrassed as he has no issue flirting with Lilly all the time

He never flirted this much with her. Another sign he wasn't interested.

Y/N gave up on getting his attention. Accepting that Eddie was into Lilly and she was definitely into him.

It wasn't a shock when he announced he wanted to ask Lilly out. The group nodded but not much of a response. Not that Eddie would notice, his eyes stayed on Y/N the whole time.

Watching as she refused to look up from her text book sitting as far from Eddie as possible. Eddie doesn't even know what hellfire said, just hearing the silence coming out of Y/N's mouth.

Dustin watched the two closely. Noticing Eddie only cared to see her reaction, or lack of reaction.

He watched as Eddie's shoulders slumped after Y/N never looked up.

Dustin smiled to himself - he has a plan.

~~

Y/N decided she wanted to quit hellfire a few days ago. She couldn't sit there and watch Eddie ignore her. She only joined the damn club for him and now he doesn't care if she's there or not.

She held the shirt in her hand as she sat in his throne chair, patiently waiting for him to show up early as he always does.

"shit, I didn't expect you to be in so early." Eddie chuckled as he closed the door behind him. Throwing his backpack on the floor.

"Eddie I want to talk." She said as she sighed. Eddie looked up at her, noticing the shirt in her hand.

"What's going on?" He asked nervously, praying this wasn't what he thought it was.

"I'm quitting hellfire." She said as she threw the shirt in the middle of the table.

Eddie watched as the shirt landed then snapped back to her. She looked emotionless.

"what? Why?" He asked

"are you serious Eddie?"

He was confused

"yes? I don't understand why you want to quit. We are so close to the end of the campaign, you can't just leave now." He explained.

She felt like she was going to cry. Of course he only cared about finishing the campaign.

"wow Eddie. I don't know why I'm even surprised that the only thing you care about is that fucking campaign. That's the only reason you want me here right? You don't even care about me actually leaving, do you? Just needing my character to finish off your campaign?"

"that's not true. I of course want you to be here because I want you to be here. You mean more to me than just a character in my campaign." He tried to reason

"it sure doesn't fucking feel like it Eddie." She snapped. Trying to keep her tears in her eyes. She did not want to cry in front of him

"I don't understand where all of this is coming from. Is this because of Lilly? Are you jealous you aren't the only girl around now? Because that's pretty pathetic." He crossed his arms, eyebrows scrunched slightly.

~~

Dustin felt himself smacking his head against the door. "not the right thing to say idiot." He whispered as he locked the door. He was going to make these two talk about their feelings before they leave that room.

~~

"you are such an asshole for that." She snapped back, walking towards the door. Smacking it when she realized it wouldn't open.

"for what? Saying the truth? At least one of us is."

She turned her head back to him, so much anger filling her veins.

"you know what Edward, yes I am jealous. But I am not jealous because I'm not the only girl in this club anymore!"

"then what are you jealous of?"

"BECAUSE IM NOT THE ONLY GIRL IN YOUR LIFE ANYMORE!". She covered her mouth quickly, turning towards the door again. Refusing to look at him. That was not what she wanted to say. She did not want him to know about her feelings as he made it so very clear he would never feel the same

"wait what?" He asked softly, his anger slowly leaving his body.

"Y/N look at me " he said as he grabbed her elbow. She quickly snatched it away and shook her head

"no, let's just ignore I said that." She said as she tried to open the door again, still not moving.

“Seven billion people in the world and I got put in a room with you. Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house with us.” she tried to joke through her tears

Eddie grabbed her elbow again, turning her slowly towards him.

He felt his lips move in a frown when he saw the tears falling down her cheeks.

"hey don't cry." He soothed as he cradled her cheeks

"please stop Eddie, this is making it harder for me." She said as she pulled herself away, using the sleeves of her sweater to wipe her tears.

"make what harder?" He spoke softly. Not wanting to upset her further.

"losing you." She said, finally looking at him. Shocked to see his own tears falling softly down his face.

"you aren't losing me." He said

"I basically already did Eddie. Ever since she came along, you just pushed me aside." She sighed as she took a deep breath. Wanting to stop the tears from falling already.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel pushed aside. I'm an idiot and I should have just been honest with you about how I feel." He admitted.

"what do you mean?" She asked, now she was confused. How did Eddie feel?

"I took some bad advice from freshmen. Apparently if you like a girl, you are supposed to see if she'll get jealous. But I guess I missed the warning that it will greatly upset the girl you are in love with and ruin the chance you have with her." He said as he looked down at his shoes.

Embarrassed to admit that out loud.

"you're in love with me?" She asked quietly, heart beating so hard she could actually hear it.

"Um yes. For a very long time and I was too scared to tell you so I decided why not fuck it up instead?" He tried to laugh it off, but the pain in his chest was suffocating.

"I am really sorry. I really didn't mean to upset you or make you want to quit hellfire." He apologized.

"Eddie Munson, you are an idiot but I love you too." She said as she walked closer to him. His head snapped up, big eyes open in shock.

"wait really?" He asked

"yeah. You didn't ruin your chance completely, but let's not push it again." She warned.

He nodded at her words and cupped her cheek.

"can I kiss you now?" He asked, his words washing over her lips.

She nodded softly.

Watching as he leaned in and slowly moving forward herself.

When their lips finally touched it felt like finally connecting the two puzzle pieces that wouldn't fit anywhere.

"it's quiet now, do you think they are kissing?" They heard Mike whisper outside the door.

Eddie pulled away with a smirk.

"shh." He said as he placed a finger to her lips. She watched him in confusion.

Then he threw his head back with a load moan

"YES BABY." she tried to hide her laugh as she heard the boys scram away from the door. Gagging as they ran down the hallway.

"I guess it wasn't God playing with us." She joked as she kissed him again.

"nope. Just our little group of sheep."

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson x female reader

[wonustars]

ERE - j.ww x reader

✧ ere - juan karlos ✧ pairing: wonwoo x gn! reader ✧ genre: angst, hurt no comfort ✧ wordcount: 479 words ✧ warnings: none just a bunch of angsty word vomit fhakdjfha ✧ a/n: idk why i wrote this but i love this song and i highly reccomend listening to it while reading this ! :> ty to @hannieween for looking at this before i post and reassuring me hehe ♡ requests are open again! send me your thoughts or ideas, or lmk what u think of little one shots like this!! :D ✧ masterlist.

seven billion people and you’re the only one I really want. 

he made you look stupid. loving him so foolishly, blindly, to the point you lost your self trying to love him. it made you think, is this even worth it? to love someone who is willing to leave you in the dust?

looking into his eyes, the two of you standing in your shared apartment, not one emotion could be read. this isn't the man you fell for, this isn't the man who you gave up everything for.

all those hours, those months, those years, the time you spent building this relationship, it's all thrown out the window.

the piercing gaze that was once filled with adoration, with love, its gone.

"do you even care?" you ask him, the pleading in your voice, the hurt, so evident it could make angels cry.

"i'm sorry, but i don't think this is what i want anymore," he tone is flat, like he's a robot, a man whose mind can't be changed.

a rainfall of tears leave your eyes, the hurt blooming in your chest, leaving scars all over your heart.

it makes you think, how did it even get to this point? it felt like yesterday you two were laughing over silly jokes on the couch, showering each other in kisses, confessing your love to each other over and over again.

oh diba? ginawa mo pa akong tanga. (right? you made me a fool.)

"why? why can't we just work this out?" you beg him to answer, but he stands tall, rigid like a statue.

"how can i even answer that? you're just not the one for me anymore," he gives you a pitiful frown.

wonwoo can see the tears in your eyes, he can hear the sobs leaving your lips, but he can't bring him self to care. the feelings he once had for you are gone.

he wasn't sure how else to tell you. how does one even bring up falling out of love. it felt like it happened over night.

suddenly waking up the next morning, looking at you sleeping peacefully beside him, his brain screaming at him, yelling at him to just tell you he doesn't feel anything for you anymore.

"i can't live in this world if there's no us," you plead with him.

falling to your knees, holding onto his arms as if it would change his mind and make him stay. your grip turning your knuckles white as wonwoo looks at you with a blank stare. your body shaking from your sobs, but it doens't go through to him.

its as if he has you tuned out, to the point where everything has become white noise.

his feelings for you have burnt out, leaving ashes of what your relationship used to be in its wake.

oh diba? nakakaputangina, tayo'y lumilipad at ako'y iniwan mo sa ere. (right? how fucked up it is, we're flying and you left me hanging.)

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა a/n: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated ♡ lmk if you want more of this :3

#svthub #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo angst #seventeen angst #seventeen thoughts #seventeen drabbles #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {drabbles}

[rrenzwrld]

secreto de amor IX

chapter 9! read chapter 8 here

i’m sorry yall!😭we’re slowly getting back to business

after you finished, you had decided to let connie take you to your appointment with his car. you’ve never been in it before but it looked really new, even had the smell and everything. but that could’ve also been because of the car fresheners he had strung up on the mirror.

once you got there, you texted the braider to let her know you were there. you’ve been to her quite a few times so the interactions were routine.

“welp, i’ll be back in about.. 8 hours.”

“8 hours?”

“it probably won’t take that long, she braids fast. i thought you didn’t have anything to do though?”

connie cleared his throat. “i don’t.” you didn’t really want him waiting in the car all that time so you asked if he could come in and sit with you. the braider approved before allowing you to enter the small shed.

you introduced connie to your braider as your friend and the two of them conversed while she started on your hair. since you weren’t much of a talker, you only had input for the conversation occasionally. when you hair was finished and it was time to leave, you reached in your purse to give her the cash but connie beat you to it.

“why did you do that?”

“do what?”

“pay for my hair. i didn’t ask you to do that.”

“i know, silly. i just wanted to do it.” you felt bad because you knew you would want to do something in return. when people did stuff for you, you just had a desire to return the favor even if they don’t ask or expect it. “i don’t want anything in return by the way. you have that guilty look on your face.”

“thank you.”

connie shrugged. “no problem. you hungry?”

the two of you decided on a burger place and since you didn’t wanna eat inside for some reason, connie parked in an abandoned parking lot and you two ate in his car.

“can’t believe you let me eat in this nice ass car. i must be special.” you smiled as you put fries in your mouth.

“you are.” you were joking but he wasn’t. you didn’t know what to say exactly so you looked away from him and out the window as you sipped on your sweet tea.

“anyways, you going home after you drop me off?”

“depends. do you want me to go home?”

you shrugged. “don’t really care. do what you want.” a smile crept into connie’s face.

“i guess i’m not going home.” he took another bite of his burger and a sip of his drink. you nearly smiled but fixed it right when you couldn’t realize why you were smiling. you probably knew why but didn’t want to admit it.

“cool.”

after eating, the both of you went back to the apartment.

“i hope you know i’m going to my room sooo, i don’t know what you’re gonna do.”

“we can’t hang out?”

“hang out?” you turned to him. you were about to be mean until you realized that you were working on being nicer to him because he wanted to get to know you more. sometimes you really hated making new friends.

“yeah, like watch a movie or sum.” you looked around before agreeing.

“sure. what movie?” connie took off his shoes by the door before plopping onto the couch and grabbing the remote. you followed suit.

“encanto!” you looked at him like he was crazy. you thought he’d say something you know kids haven’t seen a billion times.

“really?” his smile faded and you immediately felt bad about your reaction.

“yeah…what’s wrong with encanto? you’ve never seen it?”

“i have but it was a while ago—“

“well we’re watching it again c’mon.” he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer. you were gonna resist but you accepted it, resting on his chest throughout the movie.

you and connie sat through an unintentional disney movie marathon with one movie after the next. while you were awake and paying attention to princess and the frog playing on the screen, connie was steady dosing off.

“connie.” you nudged him and his eyes opened slowly. “you wanted to sit up here and watch movies and you falling asleep?”

“i-i’m not sleep…just resting my eyes.” you rolled your eyes as you looked back up at the tv.

“you wanna lay d—“ you were interrupted by his soft snores. you watched a bit as his chest silently rose and fell. his long eyelashes still and his left arm draped lazily over you while his other propped up his head on the armrest of the couch. you got up to go get a blanket before sitting back down and carefully moving connie’s body to where his head rested comfortably in your lap and you placed the blanket over the both of you before watching the rest of the movie. you fell asleep too after a while

you woke up the next morning before connie because you had to go to work that afternoon. connie was still sound asleep in your lap so you were careful not to wake him as you moved his head from your lap to a pillow before adjusting the blanket over him. although you weren’t too sure about connie and the person he was in the beginning, now you were starting to realize that he wasn’t that bad. just like he claimed.

you took a shower and did the rest of your hygiene stuff before putting on your clothes for work and heading out. on the way, you called jean.

“hey, i tried calling you last night.”

“what happened to hi? hello? good morning?”

“sorry. good morning, my darling sister!” jean raised the pitch of his voice and you instantly winced.

“don’t ever do that again. i was watching a movie with connie and we fell asleep.”

“…together?” maybe you should’ve kept the falling asleep with connie thing private.

“um.. we were on the couch and we just fell asleep.”

“together though?”

“yeah?”

“did you do anything else?”

“nope. just a movie.” jean had no choice but to trust you. if something happened, he couldn’t do anything about it until he got back.

“what movie?”

“encanto.” jean laughed.

“i bet he picked it out.”

“he did. but we watched a bunch of other movies too.”

“cool, i’m glad yall are getting along. you miss me yet?”

“not really.” you joked just to hear his reaction.

“liar.” you and jean continued your conversation until you arrived at the workplace.

you got home later that day to see connie still in the apartment, laying on the couch.

“why are you still here?” you asked as you took your shoes off by the door.

“why did you leave me on the couch last night like i was some whore?” he whined and got up from the couch, walking towards you.

“you were sleeping so good, didn’t wanna wake you.” connie didn’t know if you were trying to be sentimental on purpose but he liked it.

“sure. well if you want me gone so bad, i go to work later on tonight.” a part of you was relieved that you’d finally have the place to yourself again but the other part of you was a little sad because you were starting to like having him around a lot. which was weird because you thought you didn’t like him like that. thought.

“like actual work or…?”

“actual work. i work at amazon, remember? thought you were a good listener.”

“i am. want some noodles?” you offered, getting out bowls and noodle packs out on the counter.

connie shrugged. “sure.”

you and connie sat down and ate, then after you ate, you talked and watched tv with him until it was closed to the time he had to leave for work.

“y/n…” connie nudged you softly as you slept on the couch while he was on the way out. “i’m gone.” and with that he left. connie didn’t wanna leave you and all he could really think about was coming back to you when he got off.

by the time he came back to the apartment, you had gotten up from the couch to get in bed. he went to your room and knocked on your door before opening it slightly when you hadn’t came to it. you were sleeping hard so he went to jean’s room to sleep himself.

#aot #aot x reader #black reader #aot x black reader #connie springer #aot connie #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x black y/n

[writertitan]

Perennial // Part 4

a/n: so sorry for the tumblr post delay, but hopefully this update makes it all worth it!

pairing: levi x fem!reader

overall themes: fantasy AU, strangers to lovers, traveling through realms, explicit content

part 4 themes: **NSFW** AND 18+ ONLY!! sexually explicit content the whole way through folks.

read part 3 here

“What do you want?” you mumbled, turning away from Levi to look out of the window again. It was infuriating to even be around him right now.

Levi said nothing at first, merely taking the initiative to lean against the wall beside you. Then, when you wouldn’t even look his way, he sighed, his eyes boring into you.

“You shouldn’t have gone off on your own—” he began, but you cut him off with a groan, moving to slap his arm and try to push him away. He easily dodged your attack, his face composed.

“If you’re just here to keep scolding me, you can leave,” you snapped. “I get it already. You don’t have to drill it into my head that you think I’m a dumb little human.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb. I just think you make dumb choices,” he clarified.

“That’s not exactly better,” you said with a frown, trying to swat at him again. This time, however, he caught your hand midair and squeezed it tight, rendering it immobile.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he said. “You could stand to make that a little easier for me by just doing as I say.”

“Protect me from what?” you whispered, fighting back tears. “I thought Eldians weren’t as dangerous as our human myths made them out to be.”

“It’s not the Eldians out there that I’m worried about,” Levi said. “The Warriors you knew, they’ve got to know you’re missing by now. I’m willing to bet they not only know that you’re here, but that they had something to do with it. They’re looking for you.”

“That’s just a hunch, you don’t know for sure,” you said sharply.

Why were you still defending them, after everything? Were you still in denial?

“I know you were close with them, Emb, but I’ve known them for centuries. I’ve fought them for centuries. They’re not who you think they are,” he said.

You stood up to face him better, all too aware of the fact that he was still gripping onto your hand. Fresh tears, ones of anger and sorrow, threatened to trickle down your face.

“What if you’re the bad guy? Why should I automatically trust you?” you breathed out, your face inches from Levi’s.

Even Levi was starting to lose his composure, but he wasn’t getting angry; he was just as aware of the electric intensity in the room as you were, and it was affecting him like it was affecting you.

“They never told you who they really were, but I haven’t lied to you even once. Maybe I don’t want to answer your billions of questions, or I keep things on a need-to-know basis, but I try to be as honest as possible with you. Doesn’t that count for something?”

He was right.

The sting of knowing you’d been lied to for years came full force, and you bit your bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

You knew why you were still so defensive of your old friends. It was a reason you loathed, but you had to say it out loud.

“I still don’t want to believe that they deceived me. Because once I do accept it…,” you trailed off, and the hand that Levi was squeezing started to squeeze back. Not in malice, but as a way to seek comfort.

“I know,” Levi said, his eyes softening imperceptibly.

He didn’t need you to say the last part out loud.

But you both knew what you wanted to say. Once you accepted the betrayal as fact, everything would change. Instead of viewing them as people who made you feel safe, they would now make you feel scared for your life. All that you knew about trust and security would be questioned, and you would never be the same.

The last rays of sunlight slanted into the room, casting deep shadows on Levi’s face. He looked so certain and determined, and you calmed down a bit just by looking at him. He was the only one who could make you feel safe now.

Levi would protect you. Levi would keep you safe.

Gently, he let go of your hand and you started to reach for your face to wipe the remnants of your tears. To your utter shock, however, Levi beat you to it.

He was a little hesitant and awkward about it, but his thumb wiped a rogue tear from the corner of your eye, the touch as light as a feather. Such a small gesture made your heart flutter nonetheless. You found yourself leaning into his touch, hoping for more. But his hand slipped from your face, down to your shoulder, and he gave it the smallest of squeezes.

Without even thinking, you cupped his jaw with the hand he’d let go of, the feeling of wanting to be close to him suddenly overpowering you. He tensed up a little, clearly a little uncomfortable and unfamiliar with the gesture, but you gave him a shy smile. For a man who was constantly giving you very direct eye contact, he was struggling to meet your gaze now.

“If something happens to me on your watch, Captain Levi…,” you warned, clearly joking, and it worked to lighten the mood. Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes a little, slightly turning his head away from you, but noticeably not pulling away from your touch.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Embla. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, his eyes still focusing out the window.

The electricity in the room was nearly unbearable now, and it was driving you crazy that Levi wasn’t meeting your gaze, that he wasn't looking at you.

“Levi, look at me,” you whispered.

When he did as you asked, your heart skipped a beat.

Though you tried hard not to, you couldn’t help but graze your thumb over his lips, your touch as feather-light as his had been when he’d wiped your tear away. It was a ghost of a touch, but you felt Levi’s lips respond to it, and you swallowed thickly when you felt him lightly kiss the pad of your thumb. You slid your hand over his neck, instinctively pulling him closer.

The sky outside had dulled into muted blues now that the sun had set and night was approaching, and you knew you’d be hearing and seeing throngs of people soon enough. None of that mattered, though. All that mattered was that you were inching closer and closer to Levi, your mind fuzzy and focused only on him and what it would be like to finally close the space between you.

You’d never seen Levi’s eyes like this before, hazy and soft, and you liked that it was you that had coaxed that from him.

But at the last second, Levi tilted his face up to press his lips to your forehead, and you let a whoosh of air escape your lungs, not realizing you’d been holding your breath.

“I should go,” he murmured against your skin, causing you to frown. “I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight.”

“Don’t go,” you half-whispered, half-pleaded.

You tilted your head up, hoping to find out what it would be like to kiss him, but Levi moved his head back and created more distance between the two of you. It was barely a couple of inches of space, but it felt too much.

“We shouldn’t…get close like this,” he murmured, his thin eyebrows drawn together.

“Why?” The question came out before you even knew that you were asking it.

“I’m not even human, Emb,” he reminded you. “It’s just not possible for humans and Eldians to coexist on any level. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

The rejection stung hard, harder than any other rejection you’d faced before. Maybe it was because this was the first time that you allowed yourself to think of a future outside of the bleak reality you’d been facing back home, but you also felt like it was more than that. You just felt different with Levi, and it was getting clearer and clearer the more time you spent together.

“I don’t care,” you said stubbornly, and you instantly knew that it was true.

Damn every story you’d ever heard about Eldia. There was nothing evil about this place or its inhabitants.

There was nothing bad about Levi.

You didn’t care if the two of you weren’t the same. You didn’t care if you came from two different worlds.

And you were having a hard time believing that Levi did care about any of that.

Outside there were distant noises of people, like you’d heard the night before. You were supposed to draw the curtains and start getting ready for bed, but the energy in the room was still buzzing between you and Levi. The two of you hadn’t broken eye contact yet; Levi looked conflicted and you looked determined.

“If you truly believe what you’re saying, then you can walk out and we won’t go any further than this,” you whispered, feeling strangely out of breath. “But if you’re feeling what I’m feeling right now…stay.”

It nearly broke your heart when Levi wordlessly tore himself away from you, but you forced yourself to accept his answer. You bowed your head so he wouldn’t see your crestfallen expression, turning towards the window where small clusters of people holding lanterns were beginning to come into view and pass you by. You barely saw them, though; you were looking right through them, thinking of how to come to terms with what just happened.

You heard the door open and close, and you bit your lip to keep from tearing up. Your chest felt like it was on fire, that initial sting of rejection now burning you whole.

The electricity in the room hadn’t dissipated either – you thought it would have once Levi left, but it was as potent as ever, reminding you of how intense it had been to be so close to him like that, to touch him and be touched, even if it hadn’t gotten too far.

You had to pull yourself together.

So, you swallowed back your sorrow and took one last look out the window, envious of the smiling faces you saw, and moved back to draw the curtains shut, shrouding you in darkness.

You turned on the kerosene lamp on the bedside table, a warm glow flooding the room, and as you turned to the wardrobe to grab your pajamas, you gasped and froze in place.

“Levi?”

He hadn’t left. Even though you’d heard the door open and then close, he had stayed.

He had stayed.

From the dim light in the room, you could see hesitation still flickering in his eyes, but now it was combined with some other emotion.

Yearning.

It was almost undetectable, but it was there.

As soon as you noticed his presence, he was crossing the room to close the space between you again, and he yanked you into his chest before he angled his head to press a hard kiss to your lips.

It was exhilarating to have him like this, and the kiss alone was enough to have your head spinning. It had begun as such an intense kiss, an urgent kiss, but had gradually melted into something more languid and passionate.

The two of you only broke away to catch your breath, and even then, you were both still finding ways to be connected. Your hands were in Levi’s hair, body pressed against his, and his hands were fumbling around your waist, as if he didn’t know where to put them.

“I couldn’t go,” he admitted, “I can’t stay away from you, even if it’s the right thing.”

You gave a breathless smile as you tugged him towards the bed, your heart racing as the two of you toppled onto it, with him sitting on the edge and you straddling his lap. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t give him a response other than melding your lips with his again in hopes that he would get the message. To you, this was the right thing. Nothing had ever felt more right.

Your hips pressed into his as you kissed him, the both of you sighing in delight at the wonderful pressure it caused. You could feel Levi stiffen in his pants as you swayed your hips and, in an instant, he grabbed your thighs and nearly threw you onto the bed, with him hovering over you as he began leaving gentle kisses along your neck and jaw.

There was too much space between you again and it made you whine and arch your back, desperate to feel how hard he was.

Levi growled against your skin and followed through with your silent command, his hips pushing down into yours once again, keeping most of his weight on his hips.

You both shed your clothes quickly, until you were only in your undergarments. Your eyes hungrily scanned over Levi’s boxers, hands already itching to yank them down, but you also were very aware of the way his eyes raked over your body from head to toe, taking in every detail. Instinctively, you tried to cover yourself, but Levi was quick to pin your arms down to your sides, his eyes finally meeting yours.

He said nothing, just shook his head, and you melted like putty under his molten gaze as he admired you. When he felt you wouldn’t move your arms, he let go of them, his fingertips tracing over the curves of your breasts, and feeling the soft skin of your inner thigh.

While he familiarized himself with your body, you took the time to take in every detail of him, as well. He was pure muscle, but very lean. His skin was pale as moonlight, and glowed in the light of the kerosene lamp. The angular planes of his face dipped in and out of the shadows as he touched you, and you were so preoccupied with admiring his body, your hands eventually tracing over him the way he’d been doing, that you gasped in surprise when his hands finally went where you needed him the most.

Two of his fingers rubbed delicately between your legs, rubbing you over your soaked panties. Your hips jerked up into his touch, lips parted as a low whine left your throat.

Levi seemed to respond well to the sound, his fingers applying more force.

“Let me hear that again,” he murmured against your neck, his fingers moving in deliberate circles. It did the trick, and you found yourself tilting your head back to let out another breathless groan, feeling like putty in his hands as his head moved down to your chest. His free hand reached up to tug your bra down enough to expose your nipples, and then you felt the delicious warmth of his tongue as he took one in his mouth.

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers buried in the soft strands as his tongue rolled along your nipple, fingers working at your clit. It was like he knew exactly which of your buttons to push in order to make you ignite for him.

You weren’t going to last long at all.

“I’m close,” you warned him in a shaky voice, hips writhing to try and feel more of his hand.

To your complete dismay, Levi lessened the pressure on your clit and released your nipple, kissing his way back up to your lips. You whined against them, arching into his body, but he pinned you down with his weight and took his hand away completely.

“Why’d you stop?” you gasped against his lips, the ache between your legs nearly painful.

“Let me take my time with you,” he responded, and his tone was filled with so much dominance that you immediately acquiesced.

Your hands inched down towards the waistband of his boxers, toying with it until you eventually tugged his boxers down, just enough to let his cock spring out. You gasped when it grazed between your legs, hot and heavy, and your hips bucked on instinct.

But Levi still didn’t give in. His hands were on your hips in an instant, pinning them down while he nipped and sucked at your neck.

You slipped a hand between the two of you, grabbing hold of him, and the growl he gave you made shivers of delight roll down your spine. But you were only able to give him a few slow strokes before he took one of his hands off your hips to grab your hand and still its movements.

Slowly, he helped you guide his cock between your legs, and your entire body ignited when you felt him slide himself over your slit, the motion slow and deliberate. A shaky groan left your throat, and you didn’t stop him when he pried your hand from his length, replacing it with his own to keep sliding himself along your cunt.

The sounds he was making made you throb, little grunts and groans that were only for your ears as he brushed his lips along your face, leaving small and quick kisses wherever he could.

He was absolutely torturing you with his cock, the way he was slowly gliding it between your folds, the head nudging against your clit every so often. He would only briefly prod against your entrance, just to tease you, and then it’d be back to slipping between your folds, gathering your slick. It was too much – but you wanted more.

“Levi,” you whined, “I want it.”

His lips were at your ear, those delightful grunts of his ceasing only so he could rasp, “What do you want?”

Before you could even answer, his cock nudged at your entrance, with more force this time. It wasn’t enough to fully enter you, but it was enough to make your head spin and earn him another one of your low whines that he obviously couldn’t get enough of.

You were getting close again and you had a feeling Levi could pick up on that, because he nearly stopped what he was doing altogether.

You tried to whine but he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, making your mind hazy with pleasure as you got lost in it. He kissed you again, and again, and again, until you were breathless, chest heaving.

As the ache inside of you grew, Levi timed himself well. He was edging you, waiting until the tide of your orgasm quelled before he picked up where he left off, the tip of his cock pushing against your hole again, even more this time.

You could see it in his eyes – he was just as desperate for you, and he couldn’t wait any longer. And you were done with being teased like this.

You gazed at him from under your lashes, hands scratching up his back until they were back in his hair as you whispered to him, “I want you.”

That was his undoing.

You gasped out as Levi finally pushed into you, his head lowering to the crevice of your neck as he fully sheathed himself inside of you. Stars danced across your vision and your legs spread to accommodate him, your arms tightly wound around him to keep him as close as possible. Even now, fully connected, not even an inch of space separating the two of you, you wanted him closer. You were insatiable.

Levi brought his head up to capture your lips in his as he began thrusting into you, mesmerizing you with another breathtaking kiss and the way his hips collided with yours.

You breathed a moan not his mouth, muffled by the kiss, and Levi’s hips snapped roughly into yours. You arched your back, wanting him even deeper than he already was, your head swimming and hazy. There was only one thing on your mind, it was Levi, and wanting more. More, more, more.

It was like he could read your mind. He gave you one last peck before moving onto his knees, which earned a whine out of you – he was suddenly too far, and the sudden space between you wasn’t warm like he was. He immediately quelled you the moment the pads of his middle and forefinger touched your clit, light as a feather at first to coax a particularly desperate moan out of you. Bursts of pleasure flamed through you with each flick at your clit, until he eventually put more pressure on it and began rubbing in time with his thrusts, his free hand sliding slowly up your torso to cup one of your breasts.

You’d never felt like this before. Nobody had ever made you feel like this before. Every sense was heightened, like your soul had woken up. Each thrust that drove his cock deeper into you, each brush of his fingertips on your skin, each kiss he planted on your mouth, they all set you on fire. The pleasure of it all had taken you so much that you couldn’t even speak. You wanted to tell him how he made you feel, you wanted to spur him on, but all that escaped you were your pretty little moans.

And Levi – you never thought you’d see him like this. That composed mask was off, only for you, and you took in the beautiful sight of his hazy eyes and parted lips, those thin brows pulled together as he gave into his lust. Those piercing eyes were on you, moving from your face down to your chest, then further down to watch what he was doing to you between your legs. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you, either. You were both addicted to one another.

The pleasure was building inside of you, making the muscles of your lower stomach tense. You stared at Levi as he stared at you, your pussy throbbing at the way his eyes were concentrated between your legs while he fucked you. Your walls squeezed around his cock involuntarily now that you were close, and Levi let out a surprised groan when he felt you constrict around him. In a flash, his eyes flitted to yours, trapping you in a hungry, lustful gaze. When you saw all that lust in his eyes, how much he wanted you, it pushed you over the edge.

Your back arched up as you came, legs locking around Levi’s hips to pull him closer. He didn’t ease up. Instead, he leaned down to kiss you as he sped up his thrusts, drinking in every sound you made as you rode through your high. Liquid warmth rushed through your veins, making you feel languid and elated.

It was obvious that Levi was close, too. His lips left yours to focus on your neck, planting firm kisses there until, with one final thrust, he bucked into you and muffled his grunt into the curve of your neck. He emptied himself inside you and you could feel it, along with every pulse of his cock. He was merely grinding against you as he finished, getting in a few last sensations of pleasure before letting your orgasms ebb away.

When you both caught your breath, Levi lifted his head and positioned himself to hover over you, his face mere inches from yours as he examined your face.

Neither of you said a word, but you didn’t want to break the silence, either. All you wanted to do was lay there and stare at Levi, and memorize the way he was looking at you with so much quiet fondness and gentleness. You knew that these looks were private, something only for you to see, and that he’d never be vulnerable like this out in the world. You’d have to savor these moments.

You angled your head up to peck his lips, just a quick and playful one, and it seemed to snap the two of you out of your trance.

“That was…,” you started, but trailed off, not able to find the words. Instead, you kissed him again, hoping to convey your feelings that way.

Levi pressed his forehead to yours for a moment, the two of you savoring your closeness one last time before he pulled out of you. Once he was comfortably situated next to you in bed, you curled up into his side, like you’d done the night before. Only this time, Levi had his arm securely around you, pulling you closer to him. You stared at his profile, admiring his strong jaw and high cheekbones, not caring if you were ogling. Even though his eyes were closed, you knew he could feel your eyes on him.

“It’s rude to stare,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

“Sorry,” you said bashfully, ducking your head into his chest.

Levi gave your arm a small squeeze, and you closed your eyes as well as your mind began to go a mile a minute.

You’d never experienced anything close to that before. Not that sex hadn’t been enjoyable before, but…this was different. Levi had taken you to highs you didn’t think you could reach.

Was this the only time it would ever happen? The thought nearly made you feel sick. What if you went home tomorrow? What if this was the only time you’d be able to be with Levi like this?

Your stomach was twisting into knots.

This couldn’t be it. Not seeing Levi ever again, not being able to see what could happen between the two of you…it was almost painful to think about.

He had started tracing his fingertips along your skin, his breathing slow and steady, like he was about to go to sleep. You’d never felt safer.

This felt like home. This peace you felt in Eldia, the tug you felt towards Levi, it couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe your “accidental” appearance in Eldia hadn’t been such an accident.

You let a hand glide over Levi’s stomach, feeling the taut muscles there as you whispered out your wish.

“I want to stay.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fic #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction

[m1d-45]

my take on sagau lore / logistics

summary: sagau lore! includes you the creator, self-awareness, khaenri’ah, celestia, literally everything i could think of

word count: ~4.1k

-> warnings: spoilers for literally everything bar the sumeru archon quests. khaenri’ah lore, kaeya + albedo lore, celestia lore, archon quests, all of it. i ramble and stray off topic and swear while doing so.

-> lowercase intended. forgive the format pls

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

< masterlist >

ok, so, just off the top of it, let’s address the largest problem with this au, specifically my genre of it:

how can teyvat be real if it’s a game?

great question! the answer is that it’s both.

i haven’t thought this through entirely, only enough that i personally can suspend my disbelief about the fics i read, but the way i see it is that you, the creator, made teyvat a billion (or more idk) years ago. you made the people—or the animals, if you still wanna subscribe to evolution—the lands, the waters and the mountains. everything was carefully pulled and molded by your hands, your influence stretching to how the wind blew.

(that’s because the god who controls it wants your attention so badly but whoooo that’s cultish territory)

anyway. fast-track past the archon war, yeah? after that was sorted, you began to hand out visions, personally at first before assigning celestia to do so. there were simply too many people, and you could not judge them all. it would not be fair.

so you didn’t.

but i’d be lying if the archon war didn’t take a toll on you. you’d been influencing it from the sidelines, carefully making sure as few innocents were harmed as possible, trying to keep the terrain intact. you were technically fighting, but on the side of teyvat itself.

(it loved you for it. every blade of grass and leaf on a stem sung your praises.)

micromanaging like that, across an entire planet, let alone trying to simultaneously set up the constellations you wanted for vision holders… you’re exhausted.

now, you could, in theory, just burrow down into the heart of the earth and rest, but that felt… impersonal, almost. you still wished to look after your world, you just wanted to have a little less responsibility while you did so.

so you left the planet, momentarily, leaving that entire universe behind, and made another. it was, admittedly, not your best work, worse than even the rest planets you tried before teyvat, but you were tired. you half-heartedly scattered some resources, salted the water, and placed the beginnings of life. with a final goodbye to celestia, you allowed your soul to rest in the core of this new planet you called ‘earth.’

now, you weren’t just going to sit there, no. as the people above lived, oblivious to the god resting in the molten core, your subconscious pulled some strings. not enough to influence wars—so many wars, so much cruelty and bloodshed—or any major occurrences, but enough to shift some small details around. these people would start a company. this game would be launched. and when you, your soul, had finally recovered from the ordeal of managing a whole planet, a child would be born.

you knew mortal minds had a hard time conceptualizing the divine, let alone dealing with the knowledge that they were one, so you made the executive decision to remove your memory. call it a product of your pity, but you decided you’d live a human life here before returning to teyvat. the world’s time difference shouldn’t make it that much longer for your lovely followers, only about a year or so, so it would be fine. you set up some dominoes, then allowed yourself to be mortal when they fell.

bad call. turns out you shouldn’t try and fudge space-time when you’re overworked and burnt out. the time dilation ended up being reversed, meaning an average life of 80 years was 4,800 years for your followers.

still, not all was lost! you, human, came into contact with a device, came into contact with advertisements from a company you, god, had a heavy hand in. the world you had loved carefully recreated, admittedly with far less detail and nuance, but what could you expect of the technology at the time?

as you downloaded the game, a final domino fell into place. the traces of divinity in your blood bled into your machine, turning the screen from a screen, and into a portal.

billions of billions of light years away, exiting this universe and entering another, two twins approached your world. they had witnessed you build it all but frowned at your lack of presence. their world, one of many that you had also crafted, still was visited by you from time to time, but this... where had you gone? were your people okay?

they approached, only to be stopped by one of celestia’s guards. boiling red cubes stung the air, lashing at their sides as she—the sustainer, she said—fought. the two drew back, sharing a look, and when they dove-

your light filled the air, time seeming to slow to a crawl. your chosen traveller sucked in a breath, feeling the familiar aura envelop them. even as their twin was swallowed, as their stomach opened into a pit and their heart crumbled, as gravity took hold of their suddenly much weaker form, you were there.

and so your journey in teyvat began once more, this time not as the creator, but as the creation.

that’s the basic lore down. yes, i know ‘basic’ took nearly 1k words on its own, but oh well. anyway, now onto some other details outside of that, such as….

the raiden shogun!

the visions were signs of your favor—not that the comman man knew that, but the gods did—so why would she ever confiscate them? simple; after you had started giving out visions, you had first passed the duty to celestia, and then… left. it’s reasonable, in her mind, that the visions were sapping at your energy, keeping you away even longer. she hoped, in a twisted sort of desire, that she could hasten your return. celestia had tried to stop her, stopping giving out electro visions, but it wasn’t enough. other visions were still in her lands, and she needed to remove them. if only on her isle of eternity, anything harming you would not be allowed.

the tsaritsa!

ok, i admit, i’m not sure how much of what i’m about to say is canon. i watch too much game theory to be 100% sure that this is Actual Lore, but… whatever. so the tsaritsa is collecting all these gnoses, right? the gods’ connection to celestia? just… kinda taking them, collecting these connections, weakening celestia so she can take it down. her reasoning is very similar to ei’s, in that you created celestia and imbued it with some of your power. however, you must have accidentally given too much, wanting them to thrive, and had weakened yourself. so, she figures, by taking down celestia, she can restore you your strength!

but wait, you ask, why not do a vision hunt decree like the shogun? simple! you gave out visions before you involved celestia, so they clearly aren’t the problem. besides, she thinks there’s a lovely poetic quality to taking down celestia with soldiers bearing weapons they awarded.

delusions!

it’s people sabotaging their health to pretend their strength is god-given, not much changes in this au. there’s implications between it and the tsaritsa’s motives for gnosis-hunting—notably if she’s taking down celestia because your strength was drained, why drain the strength of her people—but that’s ~not my problem~

morax?

morax!!! silly boy. anyway, he doesn’t see any problem with stepped down as an archon, if that’s your worry. after all, you yourself left, letting the people run themself, so…. surely he could—should, even—do the same. he feels maybe a bit bad about leaving liyue without anything, but soothes himself knowing they don’t know you’re gone. most mortals don’t, really. but in a similar vein…

venti!

venti feels the same way. if anything, his conviction is even stronger. you left your people—not entirely, admittedly, but still, you did—so he should be able to as well. he knew you had left celestia in your wake, but he had left the knights! and surely, to be overly-controlling was worse, right? you had allowed decarabian to fall, so you must not want dictators(a good thing, as he doesn’t know how he’d handle you going against one of his most core virtues).

celestia!

for the sake of the au, celestia will be kinda proxy rulers of teyvat. i know there’s probably some lore out there suggesting otherwise, likely something in the 3.2-3.3 archon quests, but i haven’t done those and so it can’t be held against me. anyway, you’re tired after the war right? so you decide, as plan A, to create celestia as a council of proxy rulers, to enact your ideals—the heavenly principles—and take care of things. this goes south, because the act of creating celestia drains even more of your strength, and you really hadn’t taken a break since you started creating teyvat so maybe it’s time to pick up plan B off the back burner…

(in celestia’s opinion, burrowing into the earth should have been plan B. taking a nap in a gilded palace should have been plan C. leaving the planet entirely was the nuclear option.)

paimon!

OOOOHHHHH BOYYYYY the emotions i have about this little fairy aidjwrkfkkds

anyway. the way i see it, she’s a manifestation of the remaining divine energy in your body/teyvat. pick your favorite, the end result is the same: she’s attached to your traveller, to you, your device. she can vaguely sense the buttons you have—which is why the tutorial changes across platforms—and loves whenever you open the paimon menu, because she can bask in your light all the more. off camera, her and the traveller gush about you. canon, i said so.

anyway, she’s the one that gives us the ability to time travel so the way i see it, she has to be at least a little divine, or be able to wield power of that strength.

take a shot every time i say strength this fic

i have some feelings about the time mechanic, most notably that it’s likely an alteration of the (very scuffed) time dilation system you implemented, but i’m writing this during school hours and can’t really be bothered with trying to rationalize that. for now, just know that Its a Thing That Exists.

co-op!

if we’re operating under the ideal that your game is the only one self-aware, then how does co-op work?

um… it doesn’t—

ok ok ok uh there’s two interpretations you can go with, of which i don’t have a favorite:

Option 1: when you go to co-op, your (self-aware) characters are transported into the digital world of your companion. they’re confused, because everything seems flat and empty of detail and there’s these weird bars above enemies and HOLY SHIT IS THAT ME???

they eventually gather that this is a false recreation of teyvat, one run by another person. whether or not they can see the chat is up to you. umm regarding farming and stuff: that means tackling the inventory, which… i’ll talk about that later, i swear-

Option 2: when you enter co-op, you leave teyvat. your vessels go back to their places—again, i’ll touch on that later, promise—and your aura leaves. paimon’s the only constant, but that’s mostly because she follows you or the traveller at all times (if you don’t have your traveller on your team… wait a few paragraphs pls). she is fascinated by the digital world, more so of the replicas of your vessels within it. maybe she tells the traveller of it when they have time.

they’re kinda similar, boiling down to whether or not you want your vessels to have a cosmic-horror level freak out at the fact that that’s them. i don’t have a favorite, and usually kinda fluctuate between the two whenever it’s convenient.

the inventory!

the inventory!!! arguably the most convenient system in teyvat, of which my answer is wildly inconvenient.

the basic principle of it is that it’s a pocket dimension, much like the one paimon vanishes into. it’s a very cool pocket dimension, with a menu and filtration systems, but that’s all it is. it preserves the quality of food, it keeps things from burning each other(i. e. mist flower corollas and flaming flower stamens are right next to each other, yet the quality of both never dwindles), and generally keeps things frozen in a sort of stasis. i like to think that vessels with a good sense of detail can pick up on an odd taste/texture to the food if it’s been in there a while, with the effect lessening as the food quality(suspicious → delicious scale) and level (stars) increases, but it really doesnt impact anything all that much.

regarding co-op: this is where things get blurry. if the inventory is a pocket dimension, and co-op is fake…. the best option is to, once more, chalk it up to divinity. whether yours, as you pick them from the digital world, of the remains of your aura in teyvat, when you return.

(another option that doesn’t work as well is thinking of the inventory as a tally, as in there’s a number of items you have and when you access it the number goes down and it summons / creates the item. the number is a representation of the power stored for that specific item- kinda like the omni-ubiquity nets, i guess? anyway, this is kinda pushing things, and though i don’t prefer it, it definitely can be useful to think about in some situations, such as an imposter au where you(reader) can draw energy from the inventory via sacrificing food or supplies. that’s really cool actually wtf-)

KHAENRI’AH HOW COULD I FORGET KHAEN-

so. khaenri’ah.

….i don’t know a lot about the lore of khaenri’ah.

[one wiki check and a lot of deleted ranting later]

khaenri’ah was a godless nation. it didn’t have a god ruling over it, it didn’t have a god influencing or building it, it didn’t have a - oh my god khaenri’ah is the nation of hubristic greed.

sorry i had a revelation mid-sentence there: to clarify, khaenri’ah was built entirely by people. they may (read: did) worship a god, you, but refused to allow you to meddle with their nation. that was their creation. you could have all of teyvat—and they would give you some of their crops to try and satisfy you—but you could not have their nation. they lived underground, away from your holy light and the overbearing gaze of celestia, and in the dark of a cave with only the earth as their witness, they began to learn khemia. they began to learn how to create, how to mimic your power. theirs was more transmutation, less pure creation, but it was so close to it that rhinedottir let it get to her head. she started her program, created durin and [REDACTED]- sorry, subject two (have i mentioned how much i hate he doesn’t have a name? fucked up fr fr). eventually, finally, after many tests and trials and rifthounds, with abyssal magic beginning to stain her hands, she created synthetic life.

the port on its neck sealed into a shimmering star, crystal blue eyes fluttering open, chalk ribs expanding as it took a breath. gold watched with rapt attention, pen falling from her hand.

she’d done it.

high on joy, she kept going, neglecting her new creation, herself, neglecting even basic safety, and eventually, she had toppled the pride of man.

khaenri’ah fell.

this allows for khaenri’ans such as dainslef, albedo, and kaeya to all know of and worship you—important, since kaeya is a character we’re automatically given—while still being bitter and jaded over khaenri’ah. this keeps as much of the lore in-game as intact as possible, with the only big difference being that khaenri’ah dedicated itself to you, but it would not be influenced by you. it was toppled by its own hubris, its desire to be divine without ever worshipping the god that made them too much for mortal men to handle. they don’t hate you, and in fact the fall of their nation has made it clear that they should have respected you more. they don’t blame you for it, as it was their own desire that brought them down, but they are a little more aware of the power of a god.

FAQ!!

i don’t have the traveller on my team, how does that work lore-wise?

excellent question! i…. don’t really know—

the way i see it, this is mostly a problem attached to the concept of ‘parties’ in the first place(again, please put a pin in the idea, we’re almost there). paimon is always with us, but the traveller… since they don’t have ‘a place to be’ as with your other vessels, as you were with them from the start… you could say that they’re always with you. silently watching from the realm of stars just outside of reality, watching you level your characters and give them strength. they wish you could pay more attention to them, but they know that teyvat is your prize creation, the people within it your most beloved. while you had encouraged them and their sibling to traverse your other worlds, it made sense that you’d want to empower these people first. your choices were.. odd, but you seemed happy, mostly, so they were too. ultimately, they are just another of your creations, and they want you to be happy just as the others do.

what happens when the game closes?

this connects to both the party system and the ‘realm of stars’ i mentioned in the traveller’s section. now, the personal belief i subscribe to is that it’s… another pocket dimension sorry—

akcnkwdjdkd ok so you know in the character menu how the background is all hazy and star-like and tinted the color of their element? i think the hydro’s have bubbles floating around but i have just spent too much time in enkanomiya-

anyway, that’s a ✨separate dimension✨. i imagine its like a line, where your characters are arranged like the bar on the side (top if you’re a pc gamer). characters can look over if they wish, though that’s dependent on some other factors (i know this is already long but i’ll elaborate on this later). the poses for weapons, artifacts, etc. are all forced on them, like strings on a puppet—war flashbacks for my scaramouche. they’re tugged into place, and stay like that. your mains are used to you fussing about with their artifacts, and have learned to simply rest into the feeling. why shouldn’t they, after all?

ANYWAY this is getting long. so when you’re in the field, your characters fall away save your party members, who move to the odd starry landscape of the party menu. there’s a large screen, which allows them to see like it’s your screen, almost. there’s a health bar, they can see the energy, and though that’s about it the important bit is that they can still see the character on field and the battle around them. this way they know what to expect, and where to aim, where to brace for an impact because sorry, they have the most hp and you need to tank this hit. when the game closes, you swap team members, etc. they are transported back to where they were prior to being on your team. now, for those you don’t utilize as often, they aren’t fully pulled into the character menu, as this would cause complications, but they are vaguely aware of when you open it. this way they can prepare in the rare case you switch to them for whatever reason.

additionally, when you shut down genshin, the traveller takes your characters’ place. they hold your place, often using the time to catch up with paimon and eat, both talking about their separate perspectives on your battle. paimon from the outside, watching the vessels switch in a shower of gold sparks, and the traveller from the inside, watching them lean on each other when their health was low and swap encouraging phrases during a tough fight. the traveller can’t really move all that much, but they don’t have to stay very still—what’s the chance you’ll notice they’re facing the wrong direction anyway?—which is good since they may have to defend themself against any enemies wandering in. if they’re off your team and unbuilt, it’s a little difficult, but between their status as an outlander and paimon’s influence, it’s not that big of a hassle.

(sorry this one’s real long but this is the concept i spent the most time developing. i have a very very long albedo fic where this mechanic is center stage so i have a lot of junk stored in my mind abt it)

what about friendship levels?

friendship levels!!! in-game they’re a metric of how long/much a character is with you, and it’s the same in sagau. the higher a character’s friendship, the more of your aura they emit by proxy, since they’re… in the absolute kindest way possible, you know how shoes have to be broken in -? yeah—

the harsh tugs of your device commanding them to move softens into a gentle guide, but they’re so in-tune with your playstyle that they go ahead of the strings, attacking slightly quicker. a high-friendship team has synergy like no other, the characters swapping just before you actually press the button to do so, their elemental reactions booming brighter, skills and bursts doing that much more damage just because they know what their doing by heart. they’re certain they could replicate it even without you, though they’d never dare, and your main sometimes finds themself repeating your usual rotation in their head to help them. swap, skill, swap, skill, burst, they mutter, their fingers tapping along where the buttons would be as they try to puzzle something out. swap, skill, swap, passive, swap, the familiar routine providing comfort.

how does the concept of being “self-aware” work?

lovely question.

…

it doesn’t.

jsksskdjd i feel like a software developer— ANYWAY-

google defines self-aware as “having conscious knowledge of one's own character and feelings”, which isn’t (inherently) the case. in relation to video games, it’s usually something along the lines of “this game is aware it’s a game” which doesn’t work since, as we’ve established, teyvat isn’t a game.

in this case, being self-aware means recognizing that you are operating through a device. it means knowing that you are not controlling them directly, that you instead use a proxy. it means, for characters like albedo, recognizing the sticky binds of code that limit his movements, it means registering that you are still far, far away, and that you only feel this close because of your device. it means, for some such as, say, diluc, there wasn’t a reason why kaeya was a vessel before him. it means knowing that their god is still lost, and knowing that they have to ensure you come back safely.

and that’s about it! discarding some icky topics such as the semantics of an isekai (which boils down to tapping into the divinity stored in your device so it doesn’t really matter much either way) and the abyss (which i don’t know enough about lore-wise, sorry) that’s everything i keep in mind when i write my genshin impact self-aware works!

if you have any further questions, feel free to either reply or send in an ask, or check out my masterlist if you want to see these concepts in practice.

have a good one!

#*shakes you awake* girl wake up midas is ranting about shit nobody cares about again!! i know i know wake up already!!!! #not fishing for compliments i just genuinely don’t think anybody was wondering about my take on sagau logistics. who would?? #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin #genshin impact #self aware genshin #genshin self aware au #sagau zhongli #sagau venti #sagau tsaritsa #sagau kaeya #sagau diluc #sagau albedo #albedo #kaeya #zhongli #venti #rhinedottir #subject two #worldbuilding #paimon #sagau paimon #celestia #dainslef #sagau dainslef #this whole thing is me going ‘i haven’t really thought this through but’ and then ranting for 300 words on the topic— #anyway i genuinely do hope this clears up sagau for some people. keeping this in my head makes it easier to read others’ works because i- #-have all the questions already answered in my head. really helps with suspension of disbelief /gen #please leave your takes in the replies/weblogs if you see this my curiosity is never dated

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 27/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

PART FOUR

When Mulder stalks out and the door slams behind him Scully startles, and Byers squeezes her shoulders in reassurance. 

“Well, that went about as well as a baptism at a whore house,” Frohike says dryly. 

“It’s okay, Agent Scully,” Byers says, and she breaks away from him and walks back into the living room. 

“Did you find anything yet?” she asks, scanning the surfaces around Langly’s computer. Her chest is tight and her eyes are blurring over, but she tries to distract herself with details. 

“Sort of,” Langly says as he approaches and takes his seat. “We got as far as locating the database that we’re pretty sure houses the information we need, but the level of security on it is way higher than anything we’ve encountered before. We have some of the most advanced hackers we know working on it, but it’ll take time,” he explains. 

“Okay,” she says with a nod, avoiding meeting any of the men’s eyes. “That’s good progress. How are you all feeling this morning?” she adds.

“Fine,” Frohike says, representing the group. “I don’t feel any different, but when I saw Mulder I just…knew him.”

“That’s good,” she says in a tight whisper. “Could you—” she starts, then pauses to clear her throat. “Could you take me back, please, Langly?” She just wants to be alone. 

“Okay,” he says, stealing a glance at Byers. She can tell that they’re worried about her, but she can only manage her own emotions at the moment. 

“We’ll call you as soon as we know anything,” Byers assures her. 

“Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without your help,” she says sincerely. 

“Get some rest,” Frohike adds before she walks through the door into the garage. 

She’s silent on the short drive back to the safehouse, and she can sense Langly’s discomfort. She bids him a brief farewell and makes her way inside, holding it together until she latches all four deadbolts behind her. She enables the security system, the final step, and then she falls apart. 

The hardest part was his smell. Aftershave and toothpaste, and something metallic and earthy that stoked the fires of her deadened memory recall. The urge to touch him was so overwhelming, she’d had to fold her hands in her lap to stop herself. The cadence of his voice, the flash of his angry eyes, the way he shook his head in frustration. Like an earthquake pushing buried artifacts to the surface, memories tumbled forward unbidden, and it was all she could do to focus on the matter at hand. 

She makes it to the couch and collapses in a heap, racking sobs rattling her chest and slickening her tongue. If he doesn’t believe her, what’s the point of all this? What future does she have without him? She may as well have carried on back in Ellicott City. The fabricated life that was prepared for her looks ideal compared to where she is now: alone, and afraid, and in danger. 

You’re my one in five billion.

You made me a whole person.

You are my constant, my touchstone.

How could she have known that this would be even worse than living a lie? To remember with acuity how it felt to love him, to be loved by him, to understand the depth of her loss. Perhaps the people behind this really did do her a kindness. Perhaps she is the one who made the wrong choice.

Somewhere in the onslaught of tears, she falls asleep.

-

“What is this place?” Mulder asks, but the armed man just pushes him forward by his cuffed hands, and he stumbles to the ground. 

“Mulder,” she calls out as she tries to go to him, but her own escort pulls her back and the metal on her cuffs digs painfully into her wrists. 

They come to a set of glass doors and wait as their escorts request entry. The doors slide open, and she is nudged forward with the butt of a rifle against her back. As they pass through a small vestibule, a blast of warm, antiseptic air pushes her hair in all directions and it falls across her face, obscuring her vision. Someone grabs her upper arm, and she is pulled roughly away from the door and further into the building.

“Mulder!” she yells again, bending her knees and going slack in an attempt to prevent being moved to a new location. 

“Where are you taking her?!” she hears him bellow, and then the sharp thwack of something striking his skull. 

“Get up,” an unkind voice barks at her, and she is yanked to her feet. Her shoulder pops and a hot stab of pain lights up at the joint. 

“Mulder!” she cries out again, tossing her head to the side to move her hair out of her eyes. She sees him on the ground, conscious but writhing and disoriented. “Mulder!” she screams again as they drag her away, the heels of her boots squeaking against the linoleum. “Mulder!”

She wakes with a start, her heart pounding and her ears ringing. It felt so real that she lays a hand on her shoulder, expecting it to be tender to the touch. As her heart slows, she realizes the burner phone the Gunmen gave her is ringing, and she scrambles to dig it out of her purse. 

“Hello?”

“Agent Scully, are you all right? I’ve called you half a dozen times,” Byers says, part chastisement, part concern in his voice. 

“Sorry, I fell asleep. What time is it?” she asks, noting that the sun has shifted in the sky, but it’s very much daytime. 

“Nearly 3:00 pm,” he tells her. She almost feels guilty for wasting the day, but it’s not like she had anything productive to do anyway. 

“Did you find something new?” she asks, sitting back down on the couch. She needs to use the restroom, but it will have to wait. 

“No, not yet,” he says, and she feels a little pang of disappointment. “But that’s not why I called,” he continues. “Mulder came back.”

She’s so struck that she drops the phone. It slides under the couch, and she gets down on her belly and snakes her arm underneath it while yelling for Byers to wait for her. Finally, she fishes it out and puts it back to her ear. 

“He came back? He’s there now?” she asks, trying to temper her own hope. 

“No, we decided that it’s unwise to have him at the house as long as he still has his chip. Frohike and I are taking him to a diner, and Langly is on his way to come pick you up and take you there, if that’s all right.”

“Yes, I’ll be ready in five minutes,” she says as she stands and heads towards the bathroom. 

“He’ll call you when he’s outside,” he says, and she hangs up. 

She brushes her teeth, wipes away the streaks of mascara on her cheeks, freshens her makeup, and changes her now-wrinkled shirt. She looks at herself in the mirror and wonders what he sees when he looks at her. A stranger? She wishes she could recall how it felt to have him look at her with recognition. With affection. With love. 

Her phone rings again and she leaves the apartment, her nerves a tangled mess. 

When she enters the diner, which makes the average greasy spoon look like a Michelin star establishment, Mulder is on one side of the booth with his back to the door, and Frohike and Byers are seated across from him. Frohike looks up when she walks in, and Mulder twists in his seat to see who has arrived. His eyes flick once from her head to her feet and then he turns back to the men as she approaches. 

“Hi,” she says softly when she arrives at the head of the table, unsure where to start. 

He looks up at her and pushes his mouth into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Hi.”

“Mr. Spender has some questions,” Frohike says. “About the chip, specifically.”

“Okay,” she says with a nod. “What would you like to know?”

Realizing that there isn’t anywhere for her to sit except next to him, Mulder slides to the back of the booth to make space for her. She sits on the outermost edge of the bench, giving him as much space as possible though every cell in her body is reaching for him. 

“Well, for starters, how did you obtain this information? I assume you didn’t stumble across the chip by accident?”

His tone tells her that he is very much still on the defensive, which is understandable. If he hasn’t had the same experiences she has, if he feels rooted in his fabricated life, this kind of news would be incredibly unsettling, and she probably wouldn’t believe it herself. 

“I knew that something wasn’t right,” she begins, keeping her body facing forward while giving him intermittent glances. “I had reasons to believe that something was being kept from me, but I learned about the chip from a man who only identified himself as Alex. He was a defector of sorts who previously worked with and for the men who did this to us. He told me about the chip and its function.”

“And you believed him?” he asks, incredulous. 

“I had doubts, of course, but I believed him enough to give it credence. That same night I removed the chip from my husband’s neck…or the man who I was told was my husband. It was clear by the next morning that what Alex said was true,” she tells him. 

She feels his eyes on her and she turns her head to find him giving her an appraising look. 

“In what way was it clear?” 

She sucks in a breath. 

“He described it as a feeling of blankness. He felt off, but he couldn’t say exactly how right away. As the day wore on, he realized he couldn’t remember things he’d known the night before, like what our son likes for breakfast or how to do the job he’s held for over five years.”

“I thought you said the chip erases memories, but removing it caused memory loss as well?” he clarifies, and his tone is slowly shifting from defensive to curious. 

“Well, yes and no,” she says, pausing to consider the best way to explain it. “Alex said that the chip contains memories, manufactured ones that help you to accept your new life as reality. So Cal, my husband, never actually knew what Peter likes for breakfast. That information was given to him by way of the chip. And he likely never learned how to code for his job as a software developer, that was also part of the manufactured memories. So when the chip was removed, those false memories were removed with it.”

Mulder sits back, pondering. 

“What about the medication?” he asks. 

“To my understanding, the chip holds the new memories, and the medication helps suppress recall of the existing ones. I’m sure it’s more complex than that, but my experience was that once I stopped taking the medication, I started having vivid dreams. When I removed the chip, I started remembering during waking hours when exposed to something that triggered a memory.”

He turns his head towards her and they lock eyes for a moment. She’s back in the kitchen from her dream, lost in the depth of his evergreen irises. Her belly tumbles, her heart aches, and there is a single throb from between her legs. He makes her feel everything possible that there is to feel with just a look. 

“You remembered me?” he asks with an edge of skepticism. 

She nods, not trusting her voice to remain steady, and Mulder heaves a sigh and looks at his coffee cup. 

“So you removed your husband’s chip?” he asks the tabletop, and Scully looks over to Frohike and Byers to confirm that they also see where this is headed. 

“Yes, I did,” she says. 

“I gather that you went to medical school?” he says, lifting his head. 

She swallows. 

“Yes, I did.”

He gives her a doubtful look. 

“A doctor and an FBI agent?” he asks tartly, and she feels like she’s losing him. 

“Agent Scully is a trained medical doctor,” Byers pipes in. “She was recruited into the FBI out of medical school, and her training has been helpful to your work on countless occasions,” he says sternly, and she feels a surge of gratitude for him. 

“Okay,” Mulder says, acquiescing. “I guess there’s little risk, right? If you don’t find a computer chip in my neck, will you call off your cronies?” he says, giving them each a questioning look. 

“We don’t have any cronies,” she says with some irritation, “and I’m very confident that I will find a chip in your neck. But if I don’t, I can promise that we won’t contact you again.”

It’s a risky bet to make, but she feels like there are no other viable options. 

“Deal,” he says, holding out his hand for her to shake. 

She freezes, struck by the prospect of touching him, but she doesn’t want him to read her overwhelm as hesitance. She takes his hand, and he wraps his fingers around the back of her palm, dwarfing it. His skin is warm and smooth, and she closes her eyes for a moment as she recalls how it feels against her cheek. 

“Deal,” she says hoarsely. 

-

They set up a makeshift surgery center in the Gunmen’s van outside a Walgreens. Mulder, still unwilling to trust them, asks Byers to hold a mirror up to the site of the incision so he can observe via reflection in a second mirror that he will hold in his hand. This, he tells them, will help him feel confident that if there is a chip, it came from his body.

When Scully brushes an alcohol swab over the back of his neck he shivers, and she reflexively lays her hand on his shoulder. He startles, and she pulls it away quickly, murmuring, “Try to hold still.” They wait for the lidocaine to take effect, and then she asks him if he’s ready. 

“Can you lift the mirror up a bit higher?” Mulder directs Byers. “And then tilt it down a bit. There, that’s perfect.”

She can see Mulder’s face reflected in the mirror that he’s holding, and she has to remind herself to keep her eyes on the task at hand. He doesn’t flinch when she drags the blade across his skin and a bright red line of blood beads along the incision. Carefully, she goes deeper, then retrieves the forceps and a square of gauze, blotting away fresh blood and exploring the tissue beneath his scar. When she sees a silvery glint, she stops. 

“I see it,” she says, stilling her hands. 

“Where?” Mulder asks, his eyes flicking around as he tries to make sense of the image reflected back to him. 

Scully moves to the side so Byers can bring the mirror closer. They shift around to perfect the view, and Scully rinses the area with saline to clear away the blood. 

“Right there, see?” she asks, indicating the chip with the tip of the forceps. 

“I think so,” he says. “Can we leave the mirrors like this while you take it out?”

She puffs a little irritated sigh, but if this is what he needs in order to believe her, then it’s worth the awkward angle she’ll have to take to extract the chip. Slowly, she nudges the chip free from the surrounding tissue, then rinses it again. 

“Do you see it?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Mulder says flatly. 

She steals a glance at his face in the mirror, and he looks pale and stricken. She is at once empathetic to his distress, and delighted at the prospect that he’s finally coming around. 

“I’m going to place it on this square of gauze, and then you can have a closer look,” she tells him, meeting his eye in the mirror to gain his consent. 

She frees the chip, wiping it onto the square of gauze before she sets them both in the center of his palm, and he examines them closely while she sutures his wound. When she’s finished, she sits back and joins the Gunmen as they all watch Mulder, waiting for his reaction. 

He’s hunched over with the chip inches from his nose, and while he appears to be giving it a thorough inspection, she sees that his eyes are unfocused and vacant. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, and he looks up at her with a mildly surprised expression, as though he’d forgotten that he wasn’t alone. 

“What am I supposed to do now?” he asks with childlike helplessness, and without thinking she reaches out and lays her hand over his wrist, squeezing once. 

“I was hoping we could figure that out together,” she says, working to keep the maelstrom of emotions swirling around her heart and mind out of her voice. 

He nods, then looks away. 

They destroy his cell phone, which he’d already had the good sense to turn off, and ditch both it and the chip in a dumpster behind an adult video store. Confident that his location can no longer be tracked, they all return to the Gunmen’s to make a game plan. Frohike pours them each a shot of tequila, and she considers telling Mulder about the poker night they spent drinking the first half of the bottle, but doesn’t want to overwhelm him.

“To the truth,” Frohike says, raising his glass. 

Mulder lifts his glass in a halfhearted toast, then takes several small sips. He’s been withdrawn and sullen since she removed his chip, and she desperately wants to ask him what’s on his mind. Is he remembering anything? Is he remembering her? She sees him toying with his wedding ring and realizes that she is not the woman on his mind right now. 

“Hey, we got something from LiminalLurker,” Langly calls from his computer, and Scully, Byers and Frohike scurry across the room and huddle around the screen. 

“Did she get in?” Frohike asks excitedly. 

“Not quite, but she found a vulnerability that she has her team working on. This is the most promising lead we have so far.”

“Get in to what?” Mulder asks, and she looks back to see him still seated on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. 

“A heavily guarded database that we think belongs to the Spurious Project,” Langly tells him. “If we can get into it, we should have the keys to the whole damn kingdom,” he finishes with a mischievous smirk. 

“Spurious?” he asks, and she realizes that there is still so much he doesn’t know. She isn’t sure if he’s ready to hear it.

She walks back to the couch and sits on the other end of it, leaving him an entire empty cushion as a buffer. He keeps his head down, though she sees his eyes flick over to her. 

“It’s the name of the group that developed the memory manipulation program, to our understanding,” she says, and waits for him to ask questions. 

He’s quiet for a few moments, continuously running his thumb across his wedding band. It hadn’t occurred to her to remove her own until the day prior, and it felt like a betrayal to bury it at the bottom of her purse, even though she knows that Cal wasn’t the one who gave it to her. If anyone on this planet is capable of understanding his turmoil, it’s her. 

“Why—” he starts, and then pauses to pull in a deep breath. “Why would someone do this? Why would she—”

He stops again, shaking his head. He’s overwhelmed, she can easily see that. Part of her feels guilty for putting him through this.  

“I don’t know,” she answers. “We saw or learned something that we weren’t supposed to, and this was how they chose to ensure that we wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

He sits up and runs his hands through his hair, then looks over at her. 

“What did we see?”

She gives him a sympathetic smile and shrugs. 

“You don’t remember?” he asks. 

“No,” she tells him. “Not yet.”

The doorbell chimes, and they all look at one another. 

“Check the camera, Ringo,” Frohike whispers harshly, and Langly rolls his chair over to another bank of screens. 

“Looks like a door to door salesman,” he says, and Byers moves toward the door. 

“Wait!” Mulder says, and they all freeze. “It could be a decoy, right?” he suggests without much confidence. 

Scully feels a smile tug at her mouth. This little glimpse of him is like a balm on her heart. 

“Shit, you’re right,” Frohike says. 

The doorbell rings again. 

“C’mon,” Frohike says with a come hither motion, and Mulder and Scully rise from the couch and follow him into the back of the house. In a messy, cluttered bedroom, Frohike throws back an area rug and tugs on a small metal ring set into the carpet. A door appears in the floor, and it becomes clear that they are meant to climb down into whatever darkness lies below. “C’mon, hurry up,” Frohike says again, urgently, and Scully descends blindly down the hatch. 

The small space is dimly lit, and once Mulder makes his way down the ladder, the trap door slams shut over their heads and plunges them into pitch black. They hear the muted thump of the rug being thrown back over the door, and then Frohike’s footsteps as he leaves the room. 

Scully strains her ears, but she can’t make out anything. The harder she tries to listen, the louder the ambient sounds in their little den become. The hum of something mechanical that she hopes is ventilation, the steady rush of Mulder’s breaths, and then the wet tick of his mouth opening in preparation to speak. She waits, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“What?” she finally asks in the smallest whisper she can produce. 

“Nothing,” he whispers back, then clears his throat. 

She hears the scuff of his feet on the floor before he bumps into her, knocking her off balance. She barely suppresses a surprised squeak as she reaches out for something to grab onto, and what she ends up grabbing is the front of his T-shirt over his belly. She fists the fabric to steady herself, and he cups both her elbows in his hands for the same reason. When she is no longer at risk of falling, she reluctantly lets go, and so does he. 

“I was going to say that I’m sorry,” he says softly. He’s standing so close to her that she can smell the tequila on his breath. 

“For what?”

There’s a pause, and she revels in the heat of his body radiating against her, and the familiar smell of his skin. 

“For not believing you,” he finally says. “And for being kind of a dick about it.”

“It’s okay,” she says sincerely. “I would hope that most people would exhibit some degree of skepticism if told by a stranger that their entire life is a well-orchestrated cover up.”

He chuckles, and she lets herself smile in the dark, teeth and all. 

They hear footfalls, and wait as the rug is moved and the door is tugged open. She cringes and closes her eyes as a blast of light blinds her, then tries to feel her way to the exit. Mulder grabs her hand and leads her to the ladder, then stands back to let her go up first. She gives him a long look, but he doesn’t seem to feel anything. Not yet. 

“Who was it?” Mulder asks as they re-enter the living room. 

“Just some folks who wanted to tell us the good word of Jehovah,” Frohike says dryly. “But they didn’t look very godly, if you ask me.”

“You think they were looking for us?” Scully asks fearfully. 

“They may have been,” Byers says. “Mulder’s chip was here long enough that they could have tracked his location. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here, Mulder.”

Mulder gives him a strange, unreadable look. 

“He’s right, it’s not safe,” Scully says, backing up Byers. 

“I know, I understand,” he tells them both. “It’s not that, it’s just strange that you keep calling me Mulder. It’s just—it’s not my name.”

Scully sucks in a breath. One step forward, two steps back. 

“Do you have another safehouse?” Scully asks the men, and Frohike shakes his head. 

“Never thought we’d need a backup,” he admits. 

“Okay. Then Jeff can stay with me. If that’s okay with you, Jeff,” she says. The fake name leaves a bad taste in her mouth. 

Mulder considers this for a moment and then nods. 

“I don’t have anything with me, clothes or toiletries,” he says. 

“You can borrow some of my things for tonight, and we’ll do some shopping for you this evening,” Byers offers. 

“Okay then,” Mulder says, clapping his hands together once. “We better get going.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

[sonnetsoncanvas]

Mess it up : pt 3

Summary: Years ago he had let you go for your own good. But this time, he isn’t sure he can

Part of the Mess it up series

Pairing: brother’s best friend rock star Bucky x fem reader (Steve’s sister) (dual pov)

Warnings: modern AU, angst, second chance, eventual smut, brothers best friend trope, implied cheating, self-deprecation, happy ending?

Inspired by: Mess it up by Gracie Abrams

Notes: This is the first time a fic has made its way from my laptop to the internet. So please be kind and do leave your feedback. Happy reading!

 

Chapter 3: I keep thinking maybe if you let me back in

Reader POV

Life was not fair. Never was to you. But that never seemed to faze you. if anything, that made you more resilient. Unafraid. Unbothered. Living in that small, noisy Brooklyn apartment, with a mother who worked herself to death trying to provide her children with a good life, a brother, the literal personification of sunshine, being picked on and bullied, tending to his bruises when he thought nobody’s looking.

It made you realise that the world is a dangerous place. It eats up those who stand unprepared. And so, you steeled yourself. Made yourself the most fearsome creature to behold in any room you entered. Your biting wit, your sass, you sharp intellect made you attractive to some, unappealing to many and untouchable to all.

There was only one who dared to play with the fireball that was Y/N Rogers. Only one for whom your guards went down. After all, if Steve trusted Bucky with his life, you could trust him with your heart. Right?

Turns out you couldn’t.

“This was supposed to be a temporary thing” he’d said.

“Do you really think I’m gonna take you home to my mother ? tell her you are what I want the Barnes legacy to continue with?” he’d sneered.

“Its time you go back to your dreams, and let me get on with mine.” He’d offered.

You never should have.

Bucky POV

Life was hilarious. Or at least it started seeming that way after years of neglect. He had everything a child could’ve wanted. All the toys in the world, the most expensive apparel, all the amenities a person could dream of. But the one thing he lacked was love. Pure genuine love.

His mother, The Winnifred Barnes of the upper east side, knew how to give birth to heirs, but did not have a clue about raising a child. Growing up in that negligent household, amongst people who were nefarious for being social climbers and gold diggers, little James soon realized that the only worth he has comes attached to his name. that no one would care for him if it weren’t for his billions.

But he was proved wrong when he met a lanky blond boy of Brooklyn at the music camp. It was there he shed the expensive cloak of James Buchanan Barnes and donned the dirty sneakers of Bucky. It was through Steve he recognised his own significance, that he could be something more than the well-groomed showpiece his family was expecting him to be.

And then he met you.

And it felt as if all his prayers had been answered.

You weren’t like Steve, not one bit. You were this fiery, self-assured human who could scorch the world with her brilliance. Unlike Steve, you were pragmatic. Unlike Bucky, you knew who you were and where you wanted to be.

And he fell for you. hard.

He borrowed some of your bravery, some of your light, and formed the Avengers with Steve, Sam and Wanda. He wanted to make something of himself to deserve you. to earn the jackpot that was your love.

However, for bucky, it seems happiness is always a temporary tryst. He tends to forget that.

Skiing was his passion. One of the many trappings of his privileged life that actually he enjoyed. It was the same passion that completely changed Bucky’s life. But unlike you, for the worse.

It was his own fault. No one else to be blamed. Had he heeded the weather warning, he wouldn’t be on that slope. he wouldn’t have been caught in that blizzard. He wouldn’t have lost his left arm.

When he regained his consciousness, the first face he saw was yours, streaked with tears, anguish in eyes.

You came there every day, sometimes under the pretence of dropping something for Steve, who refused to leave him alone, sometimes to fill in for his absence. The better bucky got, the more hopeful your eyes grew.

You’d altered everything to fit Bucky’s schedule. You worked late nights so that you could visit him in evenings after school, stopped going out with your friends to be with him instead. There were times you pulled an all nighter just so you could turn in your assignments on time.

He saw it all. The dark circles beneath your eyes, your tired face, the endless cups of coffee. It should’ve pained him, but the thought that you were there, to love him, to hold him, brought endless solace. and so he selfishly held on to you.

Until one day, Steve told him about your college acceptance letters.

“She got into Harvard Bucky! My baby girl in Harvard. Just think about that.” A hint of pride glimmered under his annoyance, “But she refuses to go. Says she cant leave Ma and I alone.”

“what ?!” Bucky had asked, guilt gnawing at him

“I mean Columbia is a decent school, but Harvard law?! It doesn’t get better than that. How far is Boston anyway?...”

Steve’s voice blended into the voices in Bucky’s brain. He knew the real reason behind your hesitation to go to Harvard was him. He remembered how excited you were when your adviser had confidently proclaimed that she is Harvard material.

And you were willing to let that go. For him.

Instead of joy, Bucky felt trepidation. Fear. Was this love? Or pity? Is this how the rest of your lives will be? You leaving things you love for his sake? And how long before you resent him? Hate him for all the opportunities you’d let go of for him?

How could he ever live with himself, knowing he was the anchor that was holding you back?

Bucky had resigned himself to live his life with his situation, but you didn’t have to. You , perfect in every way, intelligent, so beautiful that his heart ached.you should be with some one who deserved you. not him. Never him.

And so James Buchanan Barnes did something that was somehow more painful than ripping his heart out.

He let you go.

Reader POV

you woke up with a heavy head. It felt a lot like jet lag, except that it wasn’t. one did not get headaches by travelling from Boston to New York. One did, however get headaches after crying all night. Which was what you did last night.

It was embarrassing. Pathetic even. You thought you were over him, and all that it took was one glimpse of his to mess you up. You had a Suma cum laude from the most prestigious law schools in the world, scored job offers from the most esteemed firms, made grown men cower in front of in courtrooms, and yet, were drowning in a puddle of tears over a high school boyfriend.

To be fair though, your only boyfriend. After he dumped you, you swore off men, while he went on an array of affairs with so many women you lost count of it. The tabloids had always had a sweet spot for him. “The heartbreak prince” indeed. Its only that the prince did the heart breaking, not the other way round.

You ambled out of the bed and cleaned up. It was hours before your usual time, but well, its not as if you’re getting any sleep now, is it?  Its better to get some coffee for your pounding head. Your interview was tomorrow thank heavens. There was no way you could’ve done it today.

A clattering of utensils startled you. there’s no way Steve was up this early. Your confusion was immediately clarified as you came across the very bane of your existence hunched in the kitchen.

You tried to turn back and leave as noiselessly as you could. You cannot endure this so early in the morning. You’d rather go out to get coffee, there must be some place open at the ungodly hour. Its New York after all.

He turned that very instant, as if he could sense you. his beautiful blue eyes widened as he took you in, as dishevelled and disoriented as you were. After a long minute he shifted his gaze from your face, looking everywhere but in your direction.

You were beginning to suspect that God was punishing you for all your years of antagonism.

“I was about to leave.”

His voice, his goddamn voice. Your heart had always been ready to race out of your chest and beat to the rhythm of his speech. It was ready to do that now.

Had human beings been able to survive without a heart, you would’ve had yours surgically removed ages ago. Stupid, bloody organ always getting you in trouble.

a wave of guilt hit you as he started for the exit. He had done the same yesterday, leaving moment you guys entered, Sam dragging him away to help him do something you don’t recall. He returned after you went to bed, whenever that was. And now this. It felt wrong that he was uncomfortable in his home. It wasn’t his fault that you weren’t over what he called “a seasonal distraction”.

“stay” you rasped; your voice too low to be heard. You tried again. “Stay, James.”

He stilled. Stood frozen on the threshold long enough for you to wonder if he’d fallen asleep standing up. And then he turned. His eyes full of something you were scared to decipher. The silence was too oppressive, even for you.  

“we both know this would happen. We’re both adults, we can co inhabit a space without it imploding” your head was about to implode though, and not from the headache.

“yeah, right. Youre right.” He mumbled, still sticking by the door, which was a good thing because you needed coffee, and you were sure you couldn’t function properly with him in close proximity.

You turned towards the fancy coffee maker, which was far more advanced than the old spluttering relic that you had in your dorm. You fiddled with the buttons, trying to get it to work.

“here, let me.” He said, the low raspy baritone that made you shiver. You hoped he thought it was the morning chill.

He skirted around you to get to the counter, and yet his subtle smell plagued your senses. He turned the shiny knobs easily with his right arm, putting in a new filter and placing a cup near the nozzle.

“you still take your coffee black?”

The question, innocent at its core, jarred you. your ex remembering a small detail about your from years ago was not on your bingo card, but there you are.

“uh I umm, yes.” You internally cringed at the fact that you, the mock trial champion, was stuttering. He nodded slightly and continued.

“How can anyone like something like this?!”  he gagged, sliding your cup over to you.

“that’s what you get for taking a sip without my permission Barnes.” You smirked, snuggling in his outstretched arms, ready to resume his favourite movie that you honestly didn’t understand. All you cared for was spending time with him, even if it was hidden in his apartment.

“Atleast add sugar to it doll. Its too damn bitter.” He coughed.

“I like it bitter.”

You jerked at the small beep from the machine. Your eyes involuntarily went to his, only to recognise the same surprise there, as if this conversation took him to some other. the very thought of it gave you hope, and hope, you’ve realised over the years, is the most dangerous thing.

You hastily grabbed the cup, too eager to end this interaction. His presence was triggering emotions you have avoided for too long.

In your hurry you toppled the cup over, its blistering hot content pouring out. But before you could feel the burn, a shiny metal gripped your wrist and tugged you away. You staggered and stumbled forwards, bumping into his chest.

It was you who froze this time. too incapacitated by his smell, his body, him to move. You felt him draw in deep breaths, his heartbeat audibly speeding up. you stayed there for god knows how long.

It was he who withdrew. Because of course it was. You regained your composure and jumped back, frightened by the comfort that had washed over you in that moment.

“Thank you.” you gasped, and bolted out of the room right that instant.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #steve and bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barns #bucky fluff #fanfic #avengers fandom

[ink4blotches]

OTP

(Pavitr Prabhakar x You)

Synopsis: You like Mumbattan more than New York, so you chill there often. And sometimes help your best friend out as Spider-Woman. But the people of Mumbattan think there's something more to the relationship of the two heroes.

•

•

•

"What does OTP mean?" Pavitr breaks the comfortable silence that had set in as we sat atop the tallest building in Mumbattan, staring down at the -very- busy streets below.

"Uhm..Only Thing Purple?" I guess, scooting over as Pav moves to sit next to me. "No, it means 'One True Pairing', actually." He states, showing me his phone screen and scrolling on Tik Tok.

The video consisted of a fight Pav and I had the other day with an anomaly. Specifically the part where I not so heroically got electrocuted because I stepped in water.

The music filled as Pav landed beside me, reaching out and putting a hand on shoulder. "You oka-" He got cut off as he was shocked as well.

"Okay why would someone edit that?" I ask as I read the caption.

Two dumbasses...literally made for eachother!!

"I know right? I can still feel the lightning in my veins." Pav shivers, pulling his phone away from me. "And there are tons of edits of us saying we're OTP." He concludes.

A second passes in awkward, notedly not comfortable, silence before a loud explosion came from the streets below.

Ah, back to work.

•

•

•

•

"And Look at That! Our very own heroes have swung by for a quick hello!" The reporter woman smiled at us as I wiped the dirt off my clothed leg.

I smiled back, instantly stopping once I realized she can't see through my mask. "Are you- oh wow, is this live?" Pav asks, waving at the camera.

"Stop you're so embarrassing." I judged his shoulder, to which he threw an arm over my neck and ruffled my hair. "You know you love me." He laughs.

"Oh, wow! That brings me to my only question...the public wanna know! Are you two an item?"

Not this again.

Before I can open my mouth to deny, Pav laughs.

"No, but...might as well do this now. Y- I mean, Spider-Woman. I love everything about you. The way you part your hair, the way you laugh, all the way to your face when you eat really tasty food. And as the months have passed, I realized that I love you. So, will you go out with me?"

I looked between him and the camera, then back at him.

"Nah, I'll pass." I say simply. The lenses on his mask widen.

"I'm kidding! I'm joking! Yes, I'll go out with you Paaaaa...l. Pal." I caught myself. "Oh, my god. Yes!" He tackles me into a hug.

"This is great and all...but can one of you swing this girl to the hospital? The ambulance is backed up..." A paramedic taps me on the shoulder.

I immediately throw myself off Pav. "Yes- of course I'm so sorry come on let's go girl." I grab the citizen, being careful not to touch her...ouch, really nasty arm and swing away.

It takes a lot of focus to swing through Mumbattan with a passenger, but I've done it a billion times. However, it's a little more difficult this time.

Since my heart won't stop beating so fast.

•

•

•

•

I sat in a chair next to one of the crash victim's hospital bed. The teenage boy hadn't woken up yet, and as much as I'd like to be with Pav right now, my duty as Spider-Woman is to make sure people are safe- even if they're not from my universe.

The boy suddenly stirred in his bed, which caused me to put down my phone. "Hey, you're awake. You got into a car crash. How are you feeling?" I ask the boy, who's hospital bracelet says Aarush. Cute name.

"Ugh...like shit. Who are you?" Oh damn I forgot I took my costume off. "Uh...my names Carly, I'm a med student. It's a whole program- don't even worry about it." I shake my head with a laugh.

"Oh, okay. Hey, look it's Spider-Man." He looks at the TV which had been playing the news. I looked up just in time to catch Pav(Spider-Man) catch my hand with a web after I fell off the bridge trying to keep a car up.

I should probably work out more.

I watch with a warm face as the entire scene from earlier plays out again, Pav wrapping me in a hug and me swinging away with a girl in my arms.

"Damn, Spider-Man and Spider-Woman are totally OTP."

#Spotify #pavitr prabhakar x reader #spiderverse pavitr #pavitr x you #atsv pavitr #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr x reader

[kiana-kaslana-423]

Pookie I'm literally so bored and I like your fics so hear me out Seele(hi3) and Kiana with a dragon!s/o(as you can see I'm obsessed with dragons)

Seele, Kiana x Dragon! Fem Reader

☆ Female Reader with the attributes of a dragon ☆

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽

Hellooo bbg, I got you! And I absolutely love this prompt

dhdhb

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽

!! Not comfy with men will block on interaction !!!

• let's get this right off the bat, Seele absolutely loves your dragon features! She's always seen dragons in the story books that she reads! She's always found them really cool and wished that she could meet one one day

• So she was head over heels when she first met you, she thought she would never see a dragon in person so she instantly took to you! She's definitely asking you a whole bunch of questions- Like whether or not it hurts if she pulls a little bit on your tail or if your horns are sensitive!

• She's also very interested in your dragon biology and history, She wants to know everything that you're willing to talk about, she can sit there and listen for hours about everything about you!

• Now let's talk about how she feels about some of your Dragon features!

• Seele's very interested in your horn(s), Whether if they are short, big, curvy, smooth, sharp, dull or anything else! She'll find them very interesting either way cuz she's happy just to look at them! she doesn't even need to touch them at all

• But if you say she can touch them, she'll ask you multiple times if it's actually okay or something- She doesn't want you to feel forced or anything like that!!

• And when you eventually convince her that she can touch them, she's be a blushing mess when she runs her hands over the texture and shape of your horn(s), she loves the way they feel against her hands and especially the way that it makes you feel if your horn(s) are sensitive-

• She's also really intrigued by your tail! It's the same exact situation with your horn(s), she loves it and even thinks about cuddling it since it can probably wrap around her body nicely when you two cuddle! Please please take the opportunity to wrap it around her- She will legit be blushing for the whole entire day if you do

• Seele loves your wings too! The shape, the color and the style of them makes her appreciate the beauty of life and what it can create even more, she also really wants to touch your wings- Like if they have feathers she would want to run her hand through them and groom them to make sure they are clean or if your wings are smooth, she still wants to feel them and get to know every indent in them!

• And if you have any scales on your body she really wants to see them hdhsbbs, Seele it's very interested in any dragon-like feature on your body! So if you have any scales she would love to feel them and see how they look on you, She would also take extra care into cleaning them and making them look spotless! Seele is also willing to take care of your sharp teeth if you have any!

• Seele loves how you look and she'll make sure to remind you everyday of your beauty!

• Kiana is obsessed with your dragon like features! Legit she used to read some mangas with Dragon like characters and she would simp for them because of how much she liked them! So, she's very happy that she has a dragon for herself now!

• She's going to brag about you to everyone more than once, she absolutely wants everyone to know about your accomplishments and how cool you are!

• Kiana doesn't really understand any dragon biology but if you want too she's willing to listen, though you might need to have on some Subway Surfers or something like that to keep her focused and not distracted on something random

• it's either that or she's asking you a billion questions, so like good luck with that-

• Anywayss- like I said Kiana's absolutely in love with your dragon features! Her favorite out of all of them is your horn(s) since they remind her of Mei's horns and Mei's are sensitive ( my hc ) so she's definitely wanting to see if your horn(s) are sensitive, Kiana will legit come up from behind you and grab your horn(s) as tightly as she can just to see-

• if they are not sensitive, she'll be a little disappointed since she kind of wanted them to be for reason.. But that just means she can have fun with them! Like she can pull on them to lead you around, grip on them to climb on you or even play with you like a bull! She will definitely make you and Mei have one of those goat fights

• And if your horn(s) are sensitive, she is very happy- Kiana loves to have you sit on her lap all nice and comfy as she strokes your horn(s) gently! making sure not to pull on them or scratch them, just nice and slow. her main goal is to make you feel relaxed and sleepy when she's doing this. She also does this when she's spooning you in bed, she loves having your back pressed against her front as she coddles you.

• Kiana find your wings and tail cool too! She definitely wants to see if she can sit on your tail as you walk around or if she can ride on your back if you can fly around!! She's interested in trying everything cool!

#honkai impact 3rd x reader #honkai impact x reader #honkai impact #honkai #honkai impact 3rd #kiana x reader #kiana kaslana x reader #kiana #kiana kaslana #seele x reader #seele vollerei x reader #seele #seele vollerei