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hyperactively-me · 4 months

Note

hii, could you do king!ghost and princess!reader where reader never ends up loving him, tries hard to but only grows to resent him and hide those feelings I need some angst🙏🏼🙏🏼

have a good day/night!!

OUCH. OW.

(noncanon)

king!ghost x reader -- what if you never learned to love him warnings: heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, unhappy ending, this is NOT canon!

The day after your wedding to Ghost, you couldn't help but feel like complete and utter garbage. Your union yesterday officially solidified your fate, sealing you away in the palace walls of Kastron, married to a man you loathed.

Now, a few weeks have passed, and Ghost has done nothing but get on your last nerve. You were relieved he hadn't taken you to bed and that you got your own room, but the relief was a fragile shield against the daily onslaught of his presence. Each passing day revealed new facets of the man you had been bound to, and none of them softened the bitterness festering within you.

Everything had come to a head when he confronted you about your issue with him, rendering you nothing short of seething and his insistent questions and hesitance only fueled the fire of your resentment. Ghost, in his calculated attempts to understand your grievances, failed to recognize that you couldn't and wouldn't bend to his every whim and will, and that you wouldn't be won over easily.

In the cold light of day, Ghost's attempts at conversation grated on your nerves. The questions, the gestures, all seemed like calculated moves in a game you had no interest in playing. Your responses, once polite and measured, grew sharper, a reflection of the storm brewing beneath your composed yet defiant exterior.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the palace halls were cloaked in shadows, Ghost sought you out in your chambers. The air was thick with tension as he entered, the flickering candles casting a strange glow over his features. You sat by the window, gazing out into the night.

Ghost, ever persistent, took a seat opposite you. "We need to talk," he began, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "This cannot continue. We are bound by marriage, and your disdain for me is only making this worse. Can't you at least try?"

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, a hollow sound that reverberated in your room. "Marriage, Ghost? A mere formality to tie our kingdoms together? You've created a prison for me within these walls, and I resent you for it."

His gaze faltered for a moment, a flicker of regret crossing his face. "I didn't intend for this marriage to feel like a trap," he admitted.

The silence that followed was suffocating. In that moment, Ghost's demeanor shifted, and an unexpected sadness settled in his eyes. "Tell me," he implored, his tone softer, "what is it that you really want? How can I help you? Just say the word."

Your jaw clenched, and you met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and frustration. "Freedom, Ghost. I want freedom. I feel suffocated here, trapped, and I have no clue what I'm doing."

Your admission hung heavily in the air, a bitter truth laid bare. Ghost, though visibly affected, remained silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his words were tinged with a quiet resignation. "I understand," he said, rising from his seat. "I will do what I can to make this more bearable for you."

You take a shaky breath, eyes glazing over as you fight back frustrated tears. "And you know what? Fine. For your sake, I'll try to love you."

Ghost's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of hope surfacing in his gaze. For a moment, it seemed as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders. He extended a tentative hand towards you, as if trying to bridge the chasm between you two.

In that moment, you felt a pang of guilt. Your words, spoken in frustration and desperation, were meant as a temporary reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere of this thing you called marriage. The idea of forcing yourself to love a man you loathed felt like an impossible task, and yet, you couldn't bear the look of disappointment in Ghost's eyes.

As Ghost reached for your hand, you reluctantly placed yours in his. The touch, once a source of discomfort, now felt like a binding contract. He offered you a small, hopeful smile, and you forced yourself to give one back.

How great that turned out to be. For months, Ghost was courting you.

Days turned into weeks, and you tried. You really did try to see beyond his persona, to find some redeeming qualities that would kindle a spark of affection. Ghost, in turn, doubled his efforts to make the castle a more tolerable place for you.

He arranged outings, activities for the both you, took you dancing, and even sought advice from courtiers and his fellow knights on how to win your heart. Yet, despite his earnest attempts, the cold embers of your resentment refused to turn into love.

You tried, you really, really tried. You could see how much effort he was putting in to get to know you, the real you, and you him. But, no matter how much you tried to fall in love with the man behind the mask, you just couldn't bring yourself to conjure up feelings out of thin air.

One evening, whilst the both of you were in the garden, Ghost had leaned in, attempting to kiss you. You quickly dodged his attempt, turning your head awkwardly. The look on his face was nothing short of embarrassment and confusion.

"I... I thought we were getting along well?" he asked quietly.

"I'm trying, Ghost," you whispered. "Trust me, I've tried. But I can't force my heart to feel something it doesn't."

The hopeful spark in Ghost's eyes dimmed, replaced by a silent acknowledgment. He sighed, a heavy sound that echoed the complexity of your shared struggle. "I appreciate your honesty," he said, releasing your hand. "I'll give you the space you need."

As Ghost retreated, leaving you standing in the carefully manicured gardens, you felt a mix of relief and... guilt. The attempt to force yourself to love him had only widened the chasm between you, leaving both of you entangled in conflicting emotions.

One placated, the other heartbroken.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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your-divine-ribs · 3 months

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Expectations (Dad Van)

Words: 3.2k

Valentine’s Day when you’re heavily pregnant, no warnings just fluff 💗

Dad Van Masterlist Main Masterlist

It wasn't getting any easier. You were eight months pregnant and ready to pop. Your back ached, your muscles were strained and you were bone-weary tired. Since your perfect little rounded baby-belly had grown exponentially with no signs of slowing down you'd barely had more than three hours unbroken sleep, tossing and turning in bed at night in a fruitless attempt to get comfortable and getting up for frequent toilet breaks, and that wasn't the only problem. You felt like your body wasn't your own anymore, that the baby wasn't just taking up temporary residence but had moved in and completely taken over. The feeling was akin to being a lodger in your own house.

Of course you didn't begrudge the little one, you already loved her more than life itself and you'd not even met her yet, but boy were you impatient now. The pregnancy glow had dissipated quickly as you'd entered the third trimester and now you just felt huge and cumbersome and heavy and just so bloody exhausted, not to mention thoroughly undesirable. Not that your boyfriend would agree. If anything he just craved you all the more, showering you with affection and compliments and tender touches that quickly turned needy. He literally couldn't keep his hands off you, and who were you to deny him when he made you feel so good?

It had been a long day at work and you let out a drawn out sigh of relief as you pulled up on to your driveway. The promise of maternity leave was now only two weeks away but it may as well have been two years the way the days stretched on ahead of you seemingly endlessly.

"Hey, I'm home!" You called into the quiet house, ears straining for a response, a smile stretching on your lips at the faint call of "up here love... come on up... I've run you a bath..."

In truth you were envious of the way that Van's career gave him the freedom to work the hours he chose, letting him shun the 9 to 5 rat-race that you were embroiled in, but at times like this you were thankful. Now you were on the home stretch of your pregnancy he'd cancelled all touring and engagements and he was there waiting for you each day after work with a warm hug and a smile. He wasn't the typical house-husband type and his domestic skills left a lot to be desired, but he was trying so hard, and that was the important thing.

You hung up your coat and trudged up the stairs, the effort quickly leaving you panting for breath, unbuttoning your blouse and shrugging out of it as you went.

"Did ya have a good day love?"

Van looked up as you entered the bathroom, his eyes quickly leaving yours to trail over the expanse of your swollen belly. You didn't think it was possible to convey love as much from just a look but it was blatantly obvious the way that his eyes lit up as he gazed on your heavily pregnant form. It caught you off guard every time, a warm glow erupting in your chest as he quickly crossed to you with his arms outstretched.

"It was okay I guess, just the same old shit every day. I'm just so tired and everything aches. How about you? What've you been up to?"

Van's hands curled around your hips as he looked down on you. "Well I finished painting the nursery at last. It's looking really good now, all ready for our little princess."

Again his gaze sank to your belly, a hand tenderly brushing over your skin as he crouched down to talk directly to the large bump. "And how's my little lady doing? You been behaving yourself for mummy today?"

He was answered with a kick and you giggled at the perfect timing. You were certain that your unborn daughter could pick out Van's voice as she often responded to it, livening up immediately when she heard him. You often found yourself day-dreaming, fast-forwarding in your head, picturing Van and her laughing and playing, cooking up wild scenarios and going on epic adventures limited only by a child's imagination, the perfect duo. You just knew that they were going to be partners in crime and you'd probably end up on the receiving end of their mischievous pranks before she'd even learnt to talk properly. And you couldn't wait.

"She can hear you, she's kicking! Here... put your hand right here!"

You placed your hand atop Van's, sliding it across your tummy to where a little foot or hand or elbow was currently pummelling you from the inside, watching Van's expression turn to wonderment as he felt the vibrations through your skin.

"Yeah, yeah I can feel her! Hey little one! Whatcha doing in there?" He looked up at you. "She's got a right kick on her hasn't she? I swear she's gonna be a footballer." Back to your belly. "You gonna play for United yeah? Make your daddy proud?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "More like a boxer I'd say. She's been kicking the shit out of me all day, using my bladder as a punch bag!"

Van chuckled, leaning in to plant a kiss just above your navel and then rising to his feet and indicating the bath.

"You gonna get in then before it gets cold? I've just got some stuff to do downstairs."

Your brow creased into a little frown, disappointment flickering through you. "You not joining me? You know... 'cause it's Valentine's Day and all that? Make up for not even bothering to get me a card or a bunch of roses!"

You narrowed your eyes at him, letting mock-annoyance tinge your words. You weren't really bothered. You knew that he hated the commercial side of Valentines and to be honest you did too, but you couldn't resist teasing him. His eyes widened, feigning offence.

"You really need me to get you a sappy card and a bunch of over-priced flowers to show my love for ya? Nah... that just won't cut it. Got something else planned haven't I? And it's much better than all that..."

He trailed off, his voice mysterious which instantly kicked your intrigue into overdrive. He was wearing that cheeky little smirk on his lips now that made your pulse quicken and you wondered what he had planned.

"Are you gonna make love to me on a bed of rose petals?" You grinned up at him, watched him shake his head. "Whisk me off to Paris maybe?" He pulled a face.

"You'll find out soon enough. Now go on, have your bath... relax for a bit. Then come downstairs straight after, yeah?"

"Okay, okay. This'd better be good McCann!"

"Oh it will be!"

He shot you a cheeky wink and leant forward to press a small kiss to your cheek, then he was darting out of the bathroom and bounding quickly down the stairs, his footsteps receding as you heard him moving down the hallway.

The bath was just what you needed and you sank down into the fragrant bubbles, feeling the knots of tension loosen as your muscles soaked up the heavenly warmth. You didn't even realise that you'd fallen asleep until a loud crashing sound wrenched you out of your slumber and you sat bolt upright, water sloshing over the side of the tub.

It was completely quiet and you began to think that maybe it was the remnants of a dream, but then you heard another noise, a metallic thunk followed by a string of curses. What the hell was he doing down there?

The piercing sound of the smoke alarm gave you your answer and you groaned out loud. Van's disastrous forays into cooking were almost legendary and you were still haunted by the time he almost set the kitchen on fire trying to flash-fry a steak. Thankfully catastrophe was averted and the only casualties were his singed eyebrows and a bruised ego, but it could have been a lot worse. Heaven knows what carnage he could be causing downstairs right now.

So you reluctantly hauled your pregnant frame out of the bath tub and dried yourself down with a fluffy towel which you quickly secured around your chest, opening the bathroom door and calling down the stairs.

"You alright down there? What's going on?"

The reply was immediate, shouted back up with gusto. "Yeah, everything's fine! Don't worry! Got everything under control babe! Just had a... minor mishap..."

You sighed, considering returning to the bath, but the warmth had started to leech from the water and the skin on your fingertips had started to shrivel so you pulled the plug and turned to look at your reflection in the large mirror situated over the sink, letting the towel drop to the floor. Wiping away the condensation you were met with a version of yourself that you barely recognised. Your skin was stretched tightly over your stomach which was now protruding that much that you could no longer see your feet. Your breasts were swollen and heavy, having gone up two cup sizes... much to Van's delight. Then there were the stretch marks. A network of fine red stripes stretching all over the underside of your baby bump. Tiger stripes. You hated them with a passion, even knowing that eventually they'd fade to faint silvery lines, but Van wouldn't hear you moan about them. You smiled to yourself as you recalled him kissing them tenderly, telling you that they were simply part of you, so he loved them just as much as the rest of you.

Another barrage of curse words drifted up from downstairs, snatching your attention away from the mirror and you grabbed for your fluffy robe, slipping into it and padding downstairs quickly on your bare feet.

You could smell the acrid scent of burning and see the air thick with smoke before you'd even pushed fully through the kitchen door and you braced yourself when you did, coming to a stop with your mouth agape, stunned by the sight before you. There were discarded pans in the sink coated with congealed burnt on food and boiled over pots on the stove. Dark splotches of a thick red sauce was sprayed up the usually pristine white cupboard surfaces. But that wasn't what really caught your attention.

There in the midst of it all was Van, his face creased into an awkward smile, splattered with pasta sauce... completely stark bollock naked apart from a garish pink novelty Valentine's apron bearing the words 'Will You Be Mine?'

"Alright love," he said meekly. "I really wanted to make you a nice dinner, but I think I might have fucked it up a little bit..."

You were quiet for a moment, taking in the scene, but not for long. How could you dwell on the kitchen chaos when you were faced with that?

"Oh my god... what the hell are you wearing? Or should I say what aren't you wearing?"

Van's face instantly cracked into a wide playful grin. "Ta-da!" He smirked proudly. "You like it?"

"It's... it's..." you trailed off into another fit of giggles as Van held out his arms and gave you a twirl... and an eyeful in the process. "I don't know what to say! I'm actually speechless for once!"

"How about 'come ere sexy?'"

You crossed the kitchen in a few steps, straight into his waiting arms, both laughing as he tried to pull you in tight for a hug but your huge baby bump prevented your bodies from meeting.

"Think something's come between us!" You quipped, then you pulled back, eyeing the gaudy apron with amusement. "So this is it, eh? This is my big Valentine's present? You practically naked? I'm surprised you didn't jump out of a giant cake or wrap yourself up in shiny paper with a big ribbon or something!"

"You can still unwrap me if ya like love?" He grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe after dinner?"

"Dinner?" You echoed, your eyes darting to the chaos behind him, your nose wrinkling in distaste at the pungent smell of burnt food. You'd long gotten over the nausea of morning sickness but the idea of trying to stomach one of Van's culinary creations was making your gut churn. "So... what did you make?"

"Well... it was supposed to be some posh pasta dish... saw Gordon Ramsey cooking it online. It's just not turned out quite how it was supposed to. I mean, we might be able to salvage it..." he paused, the sheepish look returning as he glanced behind him at the mess. "Or I could just do us beans on toast?" His voice rose up hopefully, face scrunching doubtfully. "Or there's some pizzas in the freezer... or maybe we could get a takeaway?"

"Takeaway sounds good!" You hurriedly blurted, relieved to have a choice that didn't involve Van's cooking, grabbing hold of his hand when you saw the disappointment etched on his face although he was trying to hide it. "Hey, all this is great, I really do appreciate it you know. Don't feel bad about it."

"But I do feel bad love. I really wanted to do something special for you, make it romantic. You do so much and you never complain and I'm just a bit..." he paused, shrugging whilst he searched for the right word. "Useless..."

"Awww don't say that!" You made a grab for his other hand, drawing him close and looking up at him. "You've been doing loads recently. You've completely decorated the nursery, you've been out buying loads of stuff, you've come to all the ante-natal classes with me..."

"Yeah, and I about bloody passed out when the midwife was going through your birth plan. What am I gonna be like at the real thing? I'm probably just gonna go and let you down."

You giggled. "You'll be fine, honestly, you'll see. We both will be as long as we're together."

He smiled then, gave a small sigh and a shrug, and then a little frown creased his features. "I'm trying Y/N, I really am. I've wanted to be a dad for as long as I can remember and I'm so excited, but now it's only weeks away I keep stressing, worrying I'm not doing enough. I wanna do as much as I can, look after you, and the baby when she's here." His eyes strayed down to your bump, glowing fondly. "Wanna take care of both of you."

"You're doing great Van, you really are," you assured him. "I certainly got no complaints."

He didn't look convinced. "But I can't even cook a simple pasta dish! And you should have seen me painting the nursery earlier. I swear I ended up with more paint in my hair than than on the walls! I'm just rubbish at all this 'hands on' stuff. And what about when the baby's here? What if I do something wrong? What if I'm a shit dad?"

He looked so earnest it made your heart ache. It was only a few weeks back that you'd been wracked with worries and doubts yourself when you'd been packing your hospital bag in advance as instructed. It had suddenly all seemed too real and too imminent and you'd panicked, wondering how on earth you were actually going to physically birth the baby and then feed and look after her. Van had been right there at your side, a comforting arm around your shoulder, his free hand brushing away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks as you'd offloaded all your worries on to him. His gentle caresses and words of comfort had eventually coaxed you around to a more positive state as he'd told you how strong you were and how much he admired you and how you were going to be "the best mum the world had ever seen". Then he'd made you laugh when he'd backtracked and added, "Just don't tell my mum I said that or she'll kill me!"

Now you'd switched roles and you were the one building up Van's wavering confidence. Few people saw this side of him. He was always outwardly so self-assured, but you knew the real Van. The one who took so much pride in everything that he did that anything short of perfection was deemed a failure.

You disentangled your fingers from his so you could reach up and cup his face with both of your hands, thumbs brushing his freckled cheeks.

"You are so not going to be a shit dad!" You told him, your voice coming out firmer than intended which caused his lips to curl into a smile. "You're one of the kindest, most caring people I know. Fair enough, you're a crap cook..." You paused, a laugh bubbling up which Van echoed. "But our little girl is going to the luckiest girl in the world to have a dad like you. I bet there's not many babies that've already got about three albums worth of songs written for them before they've even been born! You're gonna be a great dad and she's gonna love you so much."

He hung on your every word, his smile growing as you spoke, his hands sliding around your waist.

"And I'm gonna love her too. I already do. You wouldn't believe how much Y/N... I didn't even think it was possible to ever love anyone as much as I love you, but I do. And that's a whole lot of fucking love!"

He chuckled, his fingers flexing on your waist, squeezing you gently. You felt so much love and affection at that moment you were sure that you were positively glowing with it. And he hadn't finished yet.

"Honestly babe, I don't know what I did to deserve you. You make me so happy."

"And I love you too," you replied, pushing yourself up on to the balls of your feet as you tilted his face down to meet yours. "Come here you big softy!"

You pressed your lips to his and he practically purred in appreciation, his hands sliding further around your waist as he pulled you as close to him as your baby bump would allow. The kiss was soft and sweet and his lips were warm and enticing, moving slowly against yours, savouring your closeness.

Your hands fell away, reaching for his hips and you smiled against his mouth as you felt the bare skin there. You'd almost forgotten about your Valentines surprise, such a typical Van gesture.

You pulled away, fixing him with a sexy little smile as your fingers located the apron string, tugging on it until it came undone. He smirked down on you, his eyes simmering with a gentle kind of heat which warmed you through.

"What're you doing love? Thought you were gonna unwrap me after dinner?"

"Yeah well... I changed my mind. Maybe I want my dessert before dinner..."

Then you were both laughing, smiling into the kiss, wrapped up in each other's arms.

#dad van #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann x reader #au fanfic #vanfic

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violettduchess · 2 years

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Aheeeee!! FIRST OF ALL, I'd love to take this chance to say that I have always been awed and inspired by your writing! You are the third person I followed ever since I joined tumblr and aaaaaa you're so so good! You always inspire me to write!

I will throw my shyness away and hehe wanna request🙈 Can you write about an MC who gushes or cries while reading a book? I really love your Ikevamp works so hehe, maybe 3 ikevamp dudes? SORRY AND THANK YOU!!

Have a nice day!!!

A/N: Thank you for the request anon and for the kind words. Here you go: 3 different vamps, 3 different fic flavors 😉

Theodorus

It’s later than you even know as you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, your eyes never leaving the page they are fixed on. The ticking of the clock, the slow arc the moon is making across the sky just outside the library window, the candle slowly but surely sinking to its waxy knees are all lost to you because you are not there. A book has caught your imagination, sunk its claws deep into it and taken complete control. Nothing exists for you outside the world you are seeing so vividly in your mind.

You are so enchanted by the story you are reading, you don’t notice the door to the library slowly open, nor the man who steps inside, his gaze sweeping the room like a lighthouse scanning the sea for dangerous rocks. He sees the dim candlelight and the top of your head peeking out from the wingback chair and can’t help the clucking noise his tongue makes against the roof of his mouth as he walks towards you. He’s been worried. No one he asked knew where you were.

His steps die the moment he sees your face. Delight has made your eyes bright as stars, your cheeks pink with pleasure and your lips pressed together in anticipation as you read, one hand gripping the book tightly, the other pressed unwittingly against your heart.

Theo slowly lowers himself into the chair adjacent from yours, quiet so as not to disturb you. Because he recognizes the way your soul is freely showing itself, the way a work of art has loosened it from the shackles of your body and given it fragile, temporary wings. It is a feeling he is intimately acquainted with.

You finish the chapter you were reading and a visible shudder runs through you. It is only then that you look up, startled when you see Theo rising from the chair and heading toward you.

“Theo?” He kneels in front of you, bending his head and takes your hand, the one that was pressed to your heart, and lifts it to his lips, placing a tender kiss to the top. Setting aside your book, you reach out to stroke his sun-kissed hair. “Theo? Is everything ok?” you ask again, your tone soft with affection and pitched in slight concern.

He offers you a smile, one that holds all the love he feels for you in its curves. “Everything is fine, Hondje.” He glances at the book you’ve set aside for him. “Would you like to tell me what you have been reading?”

Leonardo

“Sei pazzo?? Perchè lo hai fatto?!” Are you crazy? Why did you do that?

Lumiere is very displeased as he watches the hallway bop up and down from his prison in Leonardo’s arms. His ears are flat, his tail flicking in annoyance as he has to listen to his vampire scolding him in very rapid Italian. He should be praising him for his daring attempt to tackle the entire flock of geese that had been waddling around so temptingly on the lawn of the mansion.

He also knows his human will likely be cross as well. She is never pleased when he does things she considers “not safe.” Bah. What do they know about the thrill of the hunt?

The door to Leonardo’s room opens. His vampire stops walking when he takes in the sight before him. His human, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her face wet, surrounded by sodden handkerchiefs and a book in her lap. This causes Leonardo’s muscles to go slack in surprise for just a moment. Lumiere seizes his chance and leaps to freedom, dashing around a pile of papers and wiggling himself into a cat-sized darkened corner under the desk where he knows it will take them forever to find him.

You don’t notice Lumiere’s daring prison break. You’ve been sobbing for almost a quarter of an hour. Leonardo rushes to your side.

“Cara mia? What happened?” He wraps his arms around you, his beautiful sunlight eyes now clouded with concern.

“Oh, Leo,” you managed between stuttered breaths, “It’s-It’s s-s-so sad!” You are lost again to a wave of tears, a veritable monsoon of emotion and your poor boyfriend is wracking his brain while cuddling you close, trying to figure out what on earth could have happened in the twenty minutes he was chasing Lumiere around outside.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He reaches for the least-used looking handkerchief and hands it to you as you nod, blowing your nose.

“You know the book I’ve been reading? Well the poor but handsome soldier with the heart of gold who fell in love with the wealthy daughter of an evil Baron and won her affection through sweet antics and acts of bravery, including saving her favorite pony from a poisonous snake, has died a very heroic death saving a group of orphan children on his way back from the war, and will now never know that the daughter of the Baron, who he secretly married right before he left and was banished to her grandmother’s estate when her father found out about the marriage but then escaped, was rushing back to find him because she has given birth to his child and was only a few kilometers away from the place where he died and now they will never, ever reunite and it’s just SO SAD.” You burst into a flood of fresh tears, wrapping your arms around Leonardo and burying your wet face in his shoulder.

He has no idea what on earth you are talking about. He understood maybe a third of what you said. But what he does know is how to hold you to him, a hand running up and down your back, comforting and calming as he kisses your temple. “Ah, cara mia. Amore mio. It’s ok. Shhh.” He rocks you in his arms, continuing to murmur sweet words and letting you ride the wave of emotions you are so swept up in.

Lumiere watches the both of you from the dark corner under the desk and feels justified in his opinion that you are both the crazy ones, not him.

Faust

Diligent. Focused. Stubborn. Johann Georg Faust is all these things. But even he is having difficulty concentrating at the moment. Because right now, as he sits at the desk in his room, trying to write down his notes about the day’s experiments, you are already in bed, knees up with a book resting against your thighs and you are sniffling. Loudly.

He glances over his shoulder, his elegant hands splayed across the blank pages of his notebook, and draws a breath as he attempts to assess the situation. You are reading something that is apparently triggering a very emotional response. You’re crying…..and then he turns fully in his chair, thoughts of his experiments dissolving as he focuses entirely on you.

Your eyes are liquid stars, their light clinging in radiant drops to your eyelashes. Your cheeks are pink and wet as rose petals in autumn rain. You are Isolde, leaning over Tristan’s lifeless body, a vision of captivating sorrow.

He stands, moved to action by both your sadness and the beauty connected to it. You are startled by his sudden weight on the bed next to you, blinking as you reach up to wipe away your tears.

“I’m sorry, Johann. I didn’t mean to-” The rest of your words wilt on your lips as his index finger presses against them. His other hand is touching your cheek, cupping it in his hand as if it were made of the finest porcelain. His eyes remind you of the unearthly green of burning copper sulfate. Spellbinding, unsettling, heart-racing.

He moves faster than shadows when the light is blown out, covering you with his body, his mouth claiming yours. Two flames burn within him, vying for control. The first wants to warm you, to chase away your sadness with a heat that wraps itself around your bones like a bonfire on a cold, autumn night. The other wants to incinerate you, to have you burn in the flames of rapturous pleasure until you are nothing but soft ash between his fingers.

As you wrap your arms around him, as you hear the soft hiss of his fangs protracting, the book that had so moved you falls to the floor, its spine hitting the wood with a loud thump.

Neither of you notice.

💧

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp theo #theodorus van gogh #ikevamp leonardo #leonardo da vinci #ikevamp faust #johann georg faust #ikemen headcanons #violettwrites

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lake-archive · 6 months

Text

Just A Passerby

AO3 Link

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Ann Wolff (OC), Ramuda Amemura, Dice Arisugawa (mentioned)

Summary: Sometimes one passes by unfamiliar faces… But sometimes one might see a face they are all too familiar with... It was a mere chance for Ann, but they see someone who is such a face…

Tags: One Shot, Short One Shot, Amemura Ramuda-centric, Mentioned Arisugawa Dice, Major Original Character(s), No Dialogue, Chance Meetings, Internal Monologue, Monologue, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Past, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, POV Original Character, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Nonbinary Character, Genderqueer Character

Days had passed and honestly, things couldn’t be more peaceful these days. Though all that had happened felt like it had taken place just yesterday, at least for Ann, and it had felt so surreal all the same. Their mother having thrown them out which forced them to seek shelter at an old friend’s place and before knowing it they and said friend are now a team, a crew of some sorts. Well, they had to operate underground and yet it was a reality they could hardly grasp onto. It was something they could not process, no matter how hard they were trying. Especially since it all had happened so fast, so very fast. But it was what it was.

And besides, right now they were more busy enjoying the moment so it was not completely in their mind. After all, finally experiencing the freedom they had, away from the shackles of their mother… It felt refreshing. No longer the annoying, long hair which was a pain to take care off anyway. They managed to have it get cut, the back just barely reaching up to their shoulders. Well, the front was still down to their chest and one of their eyes was covered by the brown hair but they liked this style. No more standing a good hour in front of the mirror to adjust that long ass hair properly… Well, to be honest, Ann had never really bothered so that hair previously was just a mess to be honest.

Not just that but a change in clothes… Eli had seriously dragged them to pick a wardrobe, though they themself had to decide. And… It was not too bad honestly. Pants, hoodies, jeans, shorts – Whichever, as long as it was within the budget. It all felt so refreshing… Ann felt so new, unrecognizable perhaps? Hopefully… Then again, no Chuohku officer had attacked them ever since so it might have worked. Presenting how they wanted and getting those officers off their back? It couldn’t get better than that. So, before CATZ would start their operation full force they wanted to just bask in this bliss before getting used to it. Then again, Ole had told the two that he would be away for a few days, that was plenty of time to get used to this. Not all problems disappeared but a good deal.

And thus it had also become more comfortable for Ann to take the road down to walk to their university, like right now.

When having returned after a week's absence most didn’t even know it was them and mistook them for a new student in lectures and classes, it was rather amusing. Then again, most just knew their appearance, they didn’t really befriend anyone in particular there. Not to mention that they had never been the type to go out and party, all too busy with studies. But they did not mind, still having Ole around. And starting to live with Eli, even if it was only temporary, so they couldn’t exactly say that they were all that lonely to begin with.

And the thoughts would not have left their head for some time, not much else on their mind if anything at all. It was just that, nothing too interesting. However, due to that they had been a little bored all the same and decided to look around here and there, just observing the everyday crowd to be honest.

Most people were walking and minding their own business – Either heading somewhere to meet someone, to work, rushing home or perhaps hanging out after school. Others were sitting at a café or inside a shop, minding their own business and yet others—

Honestly, it was all mundane stuff and nothing stuck out to Ann. It was hard to believe sometimes that it was the H Age. The people went on with their everyday life as always, as if it did not exist. At least it was a mundane feeling, peacefully mundane. If they had not heard or seen the horrors the Chuohku is ready to perform, they would also believe this was a peaceful place. Well, with its problems. Some people never learn. But aside from the usual criminals and douchebags nothing was really amiss. A misleading atmosphere, to say the least, all because the public is unsuspecting. Then again, being so ignorant would be a bliss in all honesty. It can seem that way… A thought of many though, drowned in this mess of thoughts. Not like it mattered at that moment or would it ever matter… Right?

Just as all of that had left their head, something made them stop for a moment, just when they had stepped onto the next sidewalk, having crossed the previous street. A voice had gotten their attention, though it was not directed at them. Instead that voice had called out for someone else. The person had been greeted and then mentioned all so cheerfully that it was a fun coincidence that the two had met each other, while the voice in question had been on the way somewhere. Then the offer to tag along, or rather that one pushing the other with no other choice, but it was not as if it had been a big deal.

It made the brunette turn their head in the direction… Only to stare wide eyed at the scene, or rather at the person. The other did not matter, they had ignored this one in fact. There was only one person of interest… But not because of the crew this person was part off nor being known as a fashion designer… No, not that. It had them in some shock after all…

Anyone who was part of Chuohku and the Party Of Words knew of things behind the scenes. Or maybe Ann had been one of the few lucky ones to find out, even if it may have been a coincidence. They knew who he was and it was no coincidence either that they spotted him roaming around from time to time. If they remember correctly, he is one of many puppets used by the Chuohku, someone created to carry out their orders and manipulate things from within. A dirty trick for sure. And that is his purpose.

It didn’t help that he looked so innocent to most people. Well, not exactly innocent but enough to not look like he could harm a fly. He is short for one, even shorter than Ann themself, and it was more than visible. He is way below the average height of a man, making him look so powerless. Not to mention the choice of the haircolor, a bright pink, and his big, blue eyes looked as if they could do no wrong. He chose the way he dressed of course but it only helped things further. So much smiling in public and a voice with a somewhat high pitch, always so bright and acting as if he was full of life – Ramuda Amemura.

The last thing Ann knew was that he was in cahoots with each of them, to the point he had direct ties to Kadenokoji herself. They didn’t know much details but that was as much as they knew. He was unsettling in a different way. He wasn’t scary but his attitude… It was hard to pinpoint down. The few interactions they had with him were something else, to say the least. And even if it was limited to pointless banter before duty the feeling had not left them. It was impossible to forget.

That he would be still around… Ah, maybe that was a bit too quick to judge. Regardless, they knew too much, yet did not have the evidence of course, just like for many other things. Who would believe a civilian fool after all? That was not their concern however, far from it.

The bigger concern was his presence, right around the corner. He was walking the same streets as them, right within Shibuya. The last thing they needed to concern themself with. He could be anywhere at this rate. One quick glance and it could be over. Would he know though? Would he remember anything? All they could do was pray.

And yet, despite knowing better they found themself staring for some time, the shock still not having left their own body. Were they overthinking things? They didn’t even know what recent developments were like with the Chuohku… But in case he was still with them… And he could— Ah no, maybe they were overthinking this. No one noticed them and they were just no one now. No way he would be able to—

But the thoughts froze for a second, having seen Ramuda turn around for a moment, staring directly at Ann. It was only a short moment yet enough to freeze them right on the spot. It was a neutral expression they spotted, not much behind it most likely. And yet… They became stiff, as if having been busted.

But before it could get any worse they decided to turn away and run off, before he could ask, run over or catch on. Staring was a mistake, wasn’t it!? Even then, it was too short, wasn’t it? Yeah!

Regardless, they might have to be cautious… If he is here then things could become messy. Or so they thought at least.

“Ramuda, what’cha looking at over there?”

“... Huh? That—”

“Oi! Ramuda! You there!?”

“Hm? Oh! Yeah, what’s up?”

“You’ve been suddenly lookin’ there. Somethin’ interesting?”

“Oh, no no. Nothing at all, haha! C’mon Dice, let’s get going already~”

#Nimue's Lake #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #oneshot #one shot #nonbinary oc #ao3 link #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic #hypnosis mic #ramuda amemura #hypmic ramuda #amemura ramuda #original character

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punchdrunkdoc · 1 year

Text

Part 2, Chapter 1

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

Here we go!

Part 2 - picking up right where we left off...

————–

PART 2

Chapter 1

Calina woke up when the floor disappeared.

The last thing she remembered was sitting on the kitchen tiles, back propped up against the cabinets as she finished her beer. The living room was littered with the fallout from their fight - smashed glass on the floor, furniture in pieces - and neither of them had had the energy to clean it up. So in silent agreement, they’d stayed in the kitchen after ‘introducing’ themselves. Calina had taken the weight off her throbbing knee and Matthew had joined her on the floor, his long legs bracketing hers as they sat opposite each other.

“Are you able to talk about what happened?” he’d asked. “I don’t want to push you, but I need to know more details. I need to know what the danger is.”

His voice had been gentle and hesitant - and she didn’t blame him for his caution. He must have been worried that she’d break down again if she relived the experience. But there wasn’t any risk of that tonight - she still felt strangely numb, the raw fragility of earlier replaced by a detached calm, like a veneer of paint over a crumbling facade.

A temporary fix.

Eventually the emotions would break through again, and she’d have to deal with what had happened tonight, but she wasn’t ready yet.

And she’d never be ready to share all the details with Matt.

So she lied.

And she used his concern and his compassion against him. "I...I don't feel up to talking about it," she told him. "Not yet. But you're not in any danger from me. Not anymore. They can't activate the serum remotely, so I'm not going to suddenly turn on you again."

Matt gave her a small smile. "I wasn't worried about me being in danger. I wanted to know how much danger you're in."

"Oh." There was that compassion again. And the selfless valour that made up so much of Matt's character. She hated herself for taking advantage of those traits. For manipulating him and lying to him mere moments after their ‘fresh start’. But the alternative - sharing the unedited, unsanitised truth about what she'd done in her apartment - would destroy this tentative, fledgling…thing…between them.

He would never look at her the same way, knowing she was a killer by choice. Regardless of the fact that she’d had just seconds to make her choice; regardless of the fact that her mind had been slipping away and her freedom - and the lives of others - had been on the line, she had made the conscious decision to end a life.

And she feared Matt would hate her for it.

It made her a coward. A selfish coward.

But she’d just have to live with that.

"Yelena is much more concerned about the threat than I am,” she explained. “I don't believe they're coming for me. I don't think they even know where I am."

"That's good. But you should lay low for a while anyway. Just as a precaution."

She nodded, then changed the subject. She wanted to steer the conversation to safer territory - and away from her quagmire of lies. “Tell me about today.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Distract me. Tell me about the trial. How did the closing arguments go?”

“Foggy did a great job. This case always felt like a long shot, but I’m actually feeling optimistic. The prosecution could never prove a motive, and their cross-examination of our toxicology expert was weak. They…” As Matt recounted his triumph in court, the words - spoken in that lovely, rich tone of his - turned indistinct; they became a background hum, a soothing track that lulled her into oblivion…

…until she drifted off to sleep.

It turned out an adrenaline come-down, mixed with alcohol and painkillers was a potent combination.

And then the floor disappeared. The cold tile was replaced by air as she went weightless, secured in Matt’s strong arms as he carried her into the bedroom. “I’ll take the couch,” she slurred, her head heavy against his chest.

“The couch that is currently canted at a 35 degree angle?” Matt replied as he gently deposited her on the mattress. “It’d be like sleeping on a playground slide.” He helped her extract herself from her sling, pulling the fabric over her head and smoothing back her mussed hair. She tried to lean into the caressing hand but it was gone in an instant, the casual stroke meaning nothing to him, but everything to her.

She’d never been fussed over like this before.

“What about you?” she asked as he guided her back onto the pillow and pulled the covers over her.

“I’ve got some work to do, so I’ll stay up a little longer. Besides, I need to keep watch just in case there’s any activity next door. And I’ll need to wake you every couple of hours.”

“What? Why?” She heard the whine in her voice but couldn’t help it. She felt leaden with fatigue and wanted to sleep for days - not just a couple of hours.

“You were knocked out cold earlier. Standard concussion protocol.”

“Ugh.”

———

Matt smiled. The last time Calina had fallen asleep in his apartment, she had woken up confused and disorientated. Now she was acting almost petulant. He wasn’t sure which one was more endearing.

He carried one of the living room chairs into the bedroom and settled in for the night, his concentration split between the hallway outside, the woman in his bed, and the deposition papers in his lap. He needed to study the documents for an arbitration session next week, but his fingers soon went lax around the pages as his attention strayed more and more to Calina’s sleeping form.

The events of tonight still seemed to unreal to him. After months of speculation and doubt and curiosity, he finally knew the answer to her mystery.

And it was more horrifying that he could ever have imagined. She’d been stolen as a child and brainwashed, then turned into a mindless assassin. He could barely reconcile that kind of past with his sweet, kind neighbour.

It explained everything of course - the inconsistencies in her story, her nightmares and trouble sleeping, her fight skills and all the injuries he’d detected several weeks ago. Although he hadn’t gotten an explanation on that last count.

Nor had she been very open about what had transpired tonight.

He still couldn’t pick up any physical clues that she was lying, but his gut told him she was holding back. Her story didn’t add up. But he had to hope that she would trust him enough to tell him some day.

For now he would keep watch over her until she was strong enough to do it herself. And if that meant living with her for a few weeks, so be it.

Foggy thought he was crazy, of course.

For multiple reasons.

He’d listed them over the phone when Matt had called earlier to update him. “Number 1,” Foggy had started. “You’ve just found out this woman is a TRAINED ASSASSIN.”

“And as far as I know there are no bounties out on my head,” Matt had responded lightly.

“This isn’t funny, Matt. You’re going to be living with a killer.”

“An ex-killer. She never had a choice about becoming a Widow, Fog. But the first choice she made on being freed was to walk away. She doesn’t want to be a killer.”

“But that brings me to point B.”

“I thought you were numbering these.”

“Shut up. Point B, or 2, or whatever. What happens if she loses her mind and goes all robot-killer again?”

“Apparently the mind control can’t be activated remotely. If someone wants to steal her mind again, they’ll have to do it in person, and they’ll have to go through me first. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

Foggy sighed. And Matt could hear his friend’s frustration over the phone. He knew Foggy didn’t understand his decision to take in Calina. To be honest, Matt hadn’t exactly thought it through - the offer had been an impulse.

But he didn’t regret it.

He was still haunted by Calina’s broken, desperate sobs after she’d been freed from the serum controlling her. He hated the thought of anyone being in that much pain, let alone a woman he cared about. This - opening his home to her, allowing her to stay in New York - was a tangible thing he could do to help her. Rather than letting her default to the life she so obviously didn’t want out of a feeling of defeat and hopelessness, he was offering her a respite. A chance to heal and get back on her feet.

It reminded him of the aftermath of the building collapse, when Father Lantom and his mother had taken him in for a similar reason.

He was just paying it forward.

“You didn’t see her tonight, Foggy. She was so…defeated. I couldn’t stand it.”

“But, Matt-"

“No, let me finish,” Matt interrupted, trying to explain his rationale to his friend. “Imagine having the courage to walk away from everything you’ve ever known and start a new life, in a new country. Having never had a proper job before, or an apartment. You don’t even know how to pay a gas bill. Calina did that. And she’s been trying so hard to live in this alien new world and was just starting to adjust…and it was all ripped away from her in an instant. It left her feeling that she had no choice but to give it all up. And I couldn’t bear for that to happen.”

“For her sake? Or for yours, Matt.”

It was a fair question. And one he’d been quietly grappling with.

Was he really being altruistic in convincing Calina to stay? Or did he just not want to lose her?

“Either way,” he responded. “I’m not going to start anything with her. This will be a strictly platonic arrangement.”

Foggy sighed again. “Let me get this straight. You’re attracted to her. And you like her - enough to share your home with her - but you won’t act on it? Are you sure this isn’t just some new masochistic way of torturing yourself?”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying to be a good friend, Foggy. And I can control myself. Its not going to be torture.”

———

This was torture.

“Calina?” The Devil whispered again.

“Leave m’lone,” she slurred in response.

She heard a soft chuckle in the depths of her drowsiness. “I’m sorry. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“M’okay.”

It was the second time tonight that he’d woken her up to check on her. And while she appreciated his diligence and care, she was so tired. And his bed was so, so comfortable.

Which made her feel extra guilty about stealing it from him. The first time he’d woken her, she’d repeated her offered to go out to the couch in the living room. This time, she offered to share. She wriggled over to the far side of the bed and patted the mattress. “Lie down. You can’t be comfortable sitting in that chair all night after our fight.”

She’s not sure she would have had the courage to make that suggestion under normal circumstances. But it was late, and dark, and exhaustion had eroded some of her shyness.

“I’m fine,” Matt replied. “I’m still working.”

“Liar.”

He chuckled again.

She persevered. “At least sit on the bed if you’re gonna pretend to work.”

She could sense his hesitation, so she decided to make it easier for him. She rolled on to her side so her back was to him, wincing internally as the movement jarred her sore elbow. Moments later she felt the mattress dip as he climbed onto the bed. She smiled in victory, and closed her eyes.

The next time she woke, it wasn’t with Matt’s whisper in her ear - it was with the morning sunlight blazing against her eyelids. She cracked open her eyes, and slowly adjusted to the strong light piercing into the room. She glared at the bare windows, irrationally angry at them for waking her.

Then her gaze shifted, and she forgot all about her annoyance.

She didn’t remember rolling back over during the night, but she must have done at some point…because now she was facing Matt. He was on his side, stretched out on top of the covers, with one hand tucked under his pillow. And he was fast asleep, undisturbed by the sunshine.

A rush of emotions hit her all at once. Sadness, that his eyes couldn’t perceive the morning light that had woken her; guilt, at the deep purple bruises marring his skin; tenderness, at the soft, boyish look on his handsome face.

And intense gratitude, that after everything he’d learned about her last night, he still trusted her enough to fall asleep next to her. To leave himself so vulnerable in her presence.

It humbled her.

He shifted in his sleep and she held her breath, not wanting to wake him. She felt a tug at her wrist and looked down. The loose sleeve of her dressing gown was held between two of his fingers. Those fingers twitched ever so slightly, as if he was stroking the material in his sleep.

She smiled. She didn’t blame him. She’d bought this dressing gown because the cashmere fabric was so sumptuously soft and delicate. She’d shoved it on over her camisole and shorts last night, wanting to surround herself in comfort and warmth.

She was glad he was benefitting from that as well. Judging from his silk sheets, Matt shared her love of luxurious fabrics.

He moved again, and she glanced up to find his eyes open. “Morning,” he rumbled. His deep voice was thick with sleep, even lower and sexier than normal. He licked his lips, and her eyes were drawn to his mouth.

To that full, curved upper lip…

“Calina? You okay?”

She jerked out of her daze. Then shifted back on the bed, putting a bit of distance between herself and the temptation lying next to her. All her sore muscles and abused joints protested the move at once, and she groaned softly. “Why does it always hurt so much worse the next morning?” she complained.

He huffed out a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

She studied his face again. His nose was swollen and there was bruising beneath his eyes and over his cheek and jaw. The cut on his ear looked angry and red, and she could see the bandage covering the knife wound peeking out the neck of his t-shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.” He released his hold on her sleeve and grasped her arm instead. “Stop apologising. In case you forgot, the reason you’re in pain is because of me.”

“I don’t blame you for that. You were just doing what I asked you to do.”

“Well, I don’t blame you either. You weren’t in control of your actions.”

She nodded, accepting his absolution for now. She didn’t have the energy to debate her culpability this early in the morning.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Apart from general aches and pains. Do you need to see a doctor about your elbow?”

She extended and flexed the joint a few times. It hurt, but not any worse than usual. “It’ll be fine. It’s happened before.”

“Yelena mentioned that.”

Calina laughed.

“Why is that funny?” he asked softly

“Because she was the first person to dislocate it.”

He frowned. “What? How?”

“We were eleven and it was during jiu jitsu training. I’d broken some rule - I can’t even remember which one - and the trainers wanted to make an example of me. So they paired me with Yelena for a practice bout. We were the same height back then, but she was a lot stronger.”

“You didn’t tap out?”

“There was no tapping out in the Red Room. Fights were over when one of us was unconscious…or dead.”

“Jesus. Dead? You were just children.”

“We were assets. And if we weren’t good enough, we were disposed of. Only 1 in 20 of us made it all the way through the training.”

She wasn’t sure why she’d told him that. Maybe it was the intimacy of the space - the shared bed, with their faces inches apart, and their soft voices filling the sun-bathed room - that made her feel safe enough to spill all her secrets. Maybe it was his sightless eyes, the ones that couldn’t lock on to hers and stare down into her soul as she bared it.

Or maybe she just wanted to prove that she was tough. Capable. That despite him besting her last night, and despite breaking down in tears afterwards…she was strong. She had endured so much, and could endure anything else that was thrown at her.

“I don’t even know what to say to that.” Matt shook his head. “I can’t imagine that kind of childhood.”

“From what you’ve told me, it’s not like yours was all sunshine and roses,” she countered. He’d been blinded in a horrible accident, then orphaned. That was still a pretty good hand to play in the game of ‘Who’s Life Sucked More’.

“I guess we make some pair.”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

They were silent for a few beats, and she basked in the comfort of it. She liked this moment they were sharing. This interlude of honesty and intimacy. It felt like they were removed from time - that this room was the only thing that existed, and they were the only people in the world that mattered. She never wanted it to end.

Of course, the universe had other ideas.

A car travelling the street below back-fired, the sound like a gunshot. Matt flinched, as if the noise pained his sensitive ears. Calina jerked upright, an instinctual reaction to possible gunfire. The move wrenched her knee and a cry of pain escaped her lips.

Matt sat up in response. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just my knee. I should probably ice it.”

He twisted to face her and crossed his legs between them. His hands hovered over her sheet-covered legs. “Do you mind if I check it out?”

She wasn’t sure what he’d be able to ‘check’, but then again, she didn’t know the full extent of his abilities. She pulled the duvet out of the way and exposed her bare legs. Her left knee was noticeably red and swollen, but it looked a little better than last night.

She couldn’t say the same for the bruises on her thighs where she’d been repeatedly hit - by both Matt, and the man she’d killed. Vivid purple blotches covered most of the skin, and she was glad Matt couldn’t see them.

He slowly lowered his hands until they covered her injured knee. Gently - so gently - he palpated the joint. Then he slipped one hand under her thigh, taking the weight of her leg so he could check her range of motion. Her breath caught at the feel of his warm, calloused fingers against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She only managed to exhale again when he finally placed her leg back on the mattress.

“There’s some deep bruising. But nothing’s ruptured or broken,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm and unaffected.

She couldn’t say the same for her own. “Th-that’s good,” she breathed.

“I’ll get you that ice. And some painkillers.”

He started to move off the bed but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. She quickly pulled it back at the feel of his hard muscle beneath his t-shirt. “No. I’ll do it. I, um, need to walk off some of the stiffness.”

She scooted off the bed and practically jogged out of the room, ignoring the lancing pain in her legs. She shut herself in the bathroom, braced her hands on the sink and glared at the woman in the mirror.

Get a grip, she silently admonished. He’s being a wonderful, kind friend. Pull your mind out of the gutter and show a little discipline. You don’t want him feeling uncomfortable around you and your pathetic crush.

She splashed some water onto her face to cool herself down, and took a few deep breaths. Once her hormones were back under control, she laughed bitterly at the unfairness of the situation. It reminded her of a famous proverb from back home: Love is cruel; you could fall in love with a goat.

Forget goats. You could fall for an amazing, brave, handsome man…who didn’t feel the same way about you.

Now that was cruel.

———

Matt hated to admit it, but Foggy was right: this was torture.

He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands, letting out a sharp gasp as he bumped against the swelling over his nose. He probed the bridge carefully, but couldn’t feel the crunch of a broken bone.

Just a lot of bruising.

Bruising which - unfortunately - wasn’t bad enough to block his sense of smell. He would have gladly gone without it today.

Because he’d woken up saturated in Calina’s scent.

It filled the room like an atmosphere, so thick he could swim through it. He could feel it on his skin and taste it on his lips.

Complete and utter torture.

He never should have gotten into bed with her. He should have just kept vigil in the chair all night. Better yet, he should have been out in the living room, as far away from her as possible. But he’d been tired. And sore. And the temptation of the soft mattress had been too much to resist. The moment his head hit the pillow, he’d been out like a light.

It was the best night sleep he’d had…since the last time he’d slept with Calina.

He was just grateful that he hadn’t woken up wrapped around her. It was a distinct threat - he’d always been a cuddler in bed. And it had been so long since he’d been with a woman. He missed the sensation of bare limbs entwined together, silken hair against his cheek, shared warmth…He only had so much restraint, especially in the morning hours when his guard was down. It took all his willpower to fight the lure of her scent, add in the feel of her skin against his and he’d be in big trouble.

Just touching her knee had been bad enough. It had sparked a cascade of reactions in Calina that had nearly made him groan. The moment his hand had wrapped around her thigh, he’d sensed a rush of liquid heat to her core, just inches from his fingers. Her heart had started pounding and her breathing had stopped. Worst of all, her scent changed, her arousal magnifying the already intoxicating fragrance.

Fucking. Torture.

He needed to be careful. She was obviously as touch-starved as he was. Which made sense, given the life she’d lived up until now. A life of control and duty. A life devoid of fun and happiness and the simple pleasures that most took for granted.

A life devoid of…life.

The small fragments of her past she’d shared this morning gave him even more insight into that.

Only 1 in 20 girls completed the training.

What must that have been like? Never knowing if you would survive to the next day. Never knowing if the person next to you would make it either.

You would close yourself off and avoid getting close to anyone. And by all rights, Calina should have still been like that. She should have been cold. Or, at least tentative in her interactions with other people. And, yes, maybe in the beginning she’d been a bit aloof, but now she was so warm and open and caring.

That she could hold on to that side of her after everything she’d been through was…miraculous.

He needed to be careful with her. So, so careful.

She was out in the world for the first time, having never experienced proper human connection. Her reaction to him - her apparent attraction - was likely just a product of that inexperience. He was the only man in her life - maybe even the first one that she’d ever been close with - so he shouldn’t read too much into it.

And he absolutely should not take advantage.

It was yet one more reason why they needed to stay platonic.

Friends. And nothing more.

————–

Chapter 2

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#Daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic #marvel's daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x original female character #matt murdock fanfic #Matt Murdock #matt murdock x original character #tabula rasa

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twentydaysofdrabbles · 9 months

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The Concierge Plants A Seed (Part 46)

You approach them with a tray laden with drinks and nibbles, offering it silently. All three of them decline, to your surprise. The Manager must be restless indeed to decline a pot of tea. You do suppose that this is hardly a social call. So, you set it aside at the unmanned bar and return to the Manager's side, standing at her shoulder with your hands folded over your belly.

Frisk and Toriel had taken a seat in the time that you had gone to stow the tray away, the former swinging their legs restlessly while the latter sits up straight, hands in her lap. Formal. Proper. Like the Queen she used to be.

"Speak, please Miss Manager." Toriel is the one to break the silence. Frisk tightens their hands against the soft upholstery of the chair they sit on, as though trying to stop themselves from speaking.

"Of course," the Manager inclines her head. She leans back in her seat, legs crossed. The very image of a woman in control. "Were you aware that a Harbinger has paid His Highness a visit?"

Frisk frowns. Toriel's stony expression cracks to reveal a slight downturn of her lips.

The Manager tilts her head. "No? I suppose that you don't technically serve His Highness, Mx Frisk. And Miss Toriel is estranged from him"

I knew someone had come to see him and deliver an invitation in person, Frisk signs, their gaze flickering to you. I don't know what a Harbinger is.

A nod, and the Manager explains. "Someone that foreshadows a future event. Harbingers are agents of the High Table, higher ranked than an Adjudicator or an Emissary, and their arrival portents death. Their presence does not signal anything good and are a sign of worse things - and times - to come."

The more she speaks, the lower Toriel's head drops until she is cradling her muzzle in her paws. "Oh for fuck's sake, Asgore," she mumbles into her paws. "This couldn't be what you meant..."

Mum? Frisk taps Toriel's thigh to get her attention.

"Gorey - he-" Toriel takes in a deep breath. "When I was trapped in his home, during one of the periods of lucidity afforded to me, I remember him saying that he would sell his soul to make sure we were all safe in this new world."

Now it is Frisk's turn to drop their head into their hands.

The Manager only closes her eyes. You, meanwhile, are only barely able to restrain the shake of your head.

"Do you know who he 'sold his soul' to?" Toriel asks with a tired voice.

Piercing eyes look at you, and you look back at her wordlessly. The Manager turns back to Toriel and Frisk with a wave of her hand in a noncommittal gesture. "No one that I can confirm. However, it would be the newly appointed Imperator, the Marquis de Gramont, if no one else."

Toriel's face has 'what' and 'why' written all over it.

Frisk signs with a slightly sheepish expression. Don't know what an Imperator is, either.

"Imperator is a temporary title and rank that is granted to one individual in agreeance with all members of the High Table. Done only in an effort to resolve a political situation or in a time of imbalance and strife. Of late, there is a man waging war against the High Table for his freedom over in New York." The Manager's eyes tighten, she looks past Toriel's shoulder, but rallies and looks the former queen in the eye again. "This Imperator is newly appointed and operates out of Paris, France."

Toriel starts to shake her head. "Gorey wouldn't have a clue where Paris is, let alone how to contact someone so...so important over there." But he eventually could, and would. Just not now.

Times like these remind you that the Underground was a comparatively small place, perhaps only as big as the City or slightly smaller in geographical size. It certainly didn't have the same population. With only one government, though with several factions within the Kingdom, the monarchy never had to worry about interacting with other ruling bodies. The monsters might have Ascended for a few years now, but it didn't mean they were entirely acclimatised.

I know Alphys has been working to expand communication networks, Frisk signs, though they seem apologetic when Toriel's face screws up at the mention of the Royal Scientist. And Sans would have sent his spies abroad.

"If I may," you speak softly, remembering your conversation with Sans and Papyrus not too long ago. They all look at you, and the manager nods encouragingly. "Mister Papyrus is sure that His Highness has never met the Marquis, however he fell out of favour with His Highness following Miss Toriel's temporary imprisonment," you say evenly and unflinchingly, even when the air thickens around the former queen. "Mister Sans believes His Highness would have met with the Marquis at that time."

The Manager nods - she had heard it from you in a previous report.

Frisk, however, widens their eyes as though something clicks in their head. I think I know when that might have been. I needed to find Asgore to sign off on something and couldn't find him - I was told that he was overseas on business. They frown, thinking. It would've been after the meeting here. With the Manager.

Toriel is of less help. "I'm far too removed from monster politics these days to chime in on any periods of absence or unrest," she says as she shakes her head. "But I do know that Gorey wouldn't have made the decision to go to France alone. If he even went there in the first place." She cradles her muzzle in one paw as she thinks.

The Manager stirs then, eyes roving from Frisk to Toriel. "Hm. You are both close to the skeleton brothers, yes?"

Toriel and Frisk look at each other, then at the Manager.

"Sans served as my Royal Scientist for a short time, and thereafter as the Judge. I can claim to be friends with him but I cannot guarantee that he will tell me anything," Toriel murmurs, thinking out loud. "He has ever had his own agenda. Papyrus has never served me and he was young when I abdicated the throne."

The Manager doesn't look at you, nor you at her, but there is a silent agreement that you would conduct some further investigation into this. The brothers had given you some when they met you in the Lounge, but ultimately no one knew anything for sure.

Frisk is slightly better. I can ask; I like to think I'm friends with them. I know Papyrus wasn't happy when it came out that Asgore held Mum hostage. Sans might tell me if I offer to help him.

"I think you might find that they will come to you. Sooner, rather than later." The Manager smiles a sharp smile. Her eyes, intense. "If they are as unhappy as they appear, they might be seeking an alternative to the leadership the monsters currently have."

Oh, that's heavy handed of her.

It is as if the world holds their breath the moment the Manager finishes her sentence.

"What," Toriel growls. "Are you implying, Miss Manager?" Her eyes are dark with cloaked fury.

Frisk tightens their fists on the table, their expression pinched.

With her hands spread wide, the Manager croons, "When a monarch is deemed unsuitable for the crown, the People will revolt. But the mantle must fall to another whose values align with the People's. Usually, that person is someone known to the People, whose banner the People will march into battle with. Tell me, Miss Toriel, who you think that person would be?"

Three pairs of human eyes fall to Toriel, the former Queen of Monsters who was still looked upon kindly by her subjects regardless of her colourful past with the King. She turns pale under her white fur. Clenches her jaw resolutely. And barks, "No."

Mum, Frisk signs after they shake Toriel's arm. Think about it. Who else will it be? Undyne? Alphys. Stars forbid, Sans?

Still, Toriel shakes her head. "I will not," she snarls to herself. With an iron control over her strength, she shakes Frisk's hand off her as gently as she can manage and stands, pacing the walkway angrily. "I abdicated for a reason, my child!"

The Manager watches the goat monster pace down the path and back again. She leans in her seat, trails her finger over the top of her armrest. "Then it will be someone else. Perhaps someone who would be willing to bend the knee to the High Table. Or who cares less for your People than you do." It's not secret that she alludes to the names Frisk put forward. "But that's something only you can decide, Toriel."

The honorific is dropped then, the familiarity evident in the Manager's voice, and Toriel's dark eyes lock with hers. "You've always been able to make hard decisions, Toriel. Dilemmas and choices that would make anyone else balk," the Manager speaks quietly, as though raising her voice would break the little bubble around the gazebo. "You might think your people will give you a choice, but consider whether that is the truth...or mere wishful thinking."

Toriel slows to a halt, spinning around to she has her back to the gazebo. Staring out at the sprawling city. Frisk just stares down at the table.

"You won't have much longer to decide, Toriel." The Manager gets to her feet and buttons her suit jacket back up. "The King meets with the Marquis at the end of the week. At that point, your Family will be bound." A pause, then the Manager speaks in a more gentle manner, "Stay as long as you like, Miss Toriel, Mx Frisk. You are always welcome here."

There is no answer that comes from either of them.

She looks over her shoulder at you and nods, gently easing out of the seating area. Her shoes click delicately on the paved path, and even as she passes Toriel, the goat monster doesn't turn.

You follow behind her as she departs, obeying the subtle gesture. Ignoring the stares burning into your back.

In the relative privacy of the elevator as it goes back down to the Manager's office, you finally speak. "Is that wise?" You look at her reflection. "That might have been a bit heavy handed, ma'am."

The Manager smooth back an errant lock of hair from her face. "The seed must be planted. Miss Toriel is not the sort to immediately think of a coup, but Mx Frisk is more open to it. And that Mister Sans...he will not wait to bring it up to her. Best that it come from someone who isn't as close to the King." A sigh. "I don't doubt Mister Sans will wait to pressure her; it's likely that he will see that there is only one way in which this whole debacle will end."

You blink slowly and sigh. Looks like it's time to sharpen the guillotine.

#undertale fics #mafiafell au #mafiafell sans x reader #mafiafell sans #sans x reader #reader insert #mafiafell papyrus #mafiafell papyrus x reader #mafiafell toriel #the concierge #ficlet #the plot thickens

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deviantartidentitydisorder · 27 days

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Jake "Sugar" Crocker - Page of Life - 23

A young man in his twenties who has lived a very truman-show like artificial life up until he turned 21, and was slowly given more and more freedom, in attempts to start to prep him to take over the company. Sugar is a highly emotional person who is very good at swallowing his emotions for a temporary amount of time, especially if he's given a script to follow. By himself though, Jake doesn't know how to behave or how to act, and often behaves very irratic or unusual due to his complete and total isolation from the real world or his peers. He is entitled, selfish, clingy, controlling and possessive, but it's moreso done in a very childish and misguided way, instead of it being actually malicious. That being said, he is still a grown 6' tall man, and is very intimidating when hostile. Sugar is overall a very friendly person, but can come off as very detached and confused. He is severely undereducated. Sugar mostly does modeling gigs specifically for Crocker Corp, he is less so a spokesperson and moreso a figurehead, he is ditzy and silly and the perfect distraction from the world people are living in at the moment. He is incredibly famous.

Jade Crocker - Heir of Space - 42

Sugars mother, Jade has become an increasingly mysterious figure in Sugars life. When he was younger the two of them were incredibly close, Jade had got Jake in the press almost immediately after he was born, and they were considered inseparable. Now that Jakes grown older, they're rarely seen together outside of the mansion. Jades public image has also began to fade into the distance, more and more of her personality and unique traits being swallowed into the corporate hellscape of CC. Much like the other Crockers, Jade has a chip implanted in the base of her skull, that can encourage or redirect her thoughts with light electrostimulation.

John Doe (Harley(crocker)) - Witch of Breath - 42

A conspiracy theorist and crockpot, John lives in an RV in the middle of the arizona dessert, far far away from the rest of society. He occasionally goes out with Dave but not very often, and prefers to spend most of his time outside. John is an optimistic, but very paranoid person, and someone who has taken his freedom in his every early twenties. Being Jades twin, John was kept under the same regime as Jade, with the same chip. John had always been rebellious since childhood, but after CC began to insist that he and Jade look into assigned marriages and kids and began to crack down on them to bring in Crocker Corp grand children, John ran away and dug the chip out of his head himself, with minor help from Dave. He and Dave have been in an on again off again relationship ever since. Due to Dave's negligence, John has raised Dirk for most of his life.

Dave Lalonde - Knight of Light - 41

Dave is a romantic gothic ceo of a massive fashion brand just titled "Lalonde." He's spent most of his life fighting to get to the top of his industry, doing basically anything he felt was necessary to climb himself up the ranks. Dave has known John since highschool and has had a big stupid crush on him since then, John was quite the delinquent in Dave's eyes and Dave took inspiration from John as his muse. Dave is a rather retracted person, preferring much more to only project his persona of an all knowing all seeing critical fashion designer, when in reality he is a massive dork and easily excitable. Dave has a deep, intense distrust and hatred of CC, much like John, not for just hurting John but for seemingly taking Jade away from them as well. He misses his best friend, and is terrified of whatever seems to have taken her place. Dave never intended to have kids, and has instead convinced Dirk that they are brothers. Dave loves Dirk, but is a terrible parent. He relies on Johns help.

Dirk Lalonde - Prince of Void - 23

A young model trying to find his voice in an industry where he is almost always overshadowed by his brother, Dirk had thrown himself in basically every direction to try and get the attention he desired, and was often burned because of it. Now at twenty three, Dirk is a disinterested and mostly apathetic pothead. Dirk struggles with intense PTSD and depression and isn't entirely sure how to keep going. He isn't suicidal, but he has found himself in a rut. That is, until he met Sugar. Dirk threw his very first personal catwalk, and modeled his own clothing, and Sugar who had only just started going to parties was absolutely fascinated. The two of them hit it off almost immediately and began to write eachother once returning home, and now regularly spend time together as well. Dirk has made it his life goal to pick apart Jake bit by bit, not only to learn what kind of person Sugar really is, but also because CC has been attempting to take down Lalonde for years, and Dirk is almost certain he'll get the attention he's seeking through that.

#my favorites. i didnt include jane english but thts bc im still rewriting her #i dont really have anything set up for the striders. (Shrug) im not suuuuper interested in writing rose/roxy in general. but theyre #deeply important to the story so i have to figure something out #sugarverse

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allthelittlecreepycrawlies · 1 year

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SangYao Fluff and Stuff Ideas, Part Two

Endgame sangyao that starts off pretty bad. Huaisang has a crush on Meng Yao, his tutor, but his confession gets shot down. (Meng Yao tries to be gentle about it, but a series of related miscommunications result in Huaisang being pretty crushed and he stops going to the extra lessons at all.)

They end up avoiding each other long enough that Meng Yao graduates and moves on (I have no idea what time period this is in, but it has, like, actual school classes whenever it is).

They lose touch for years and when they cross paths again, Huaisang is in really bad shape (either his health has taken a turn for the worse or he ran away from home... or both... or something else. Whatever it is, Mingjue is still alive and trying to sort out the mess but having a hard time with it).

Immediately concerned by Huaisang's condition, Meng Yao coaxes him into accepting care.

And he starts finding that the more this broken, exhausted, miserable Huaisang depends on him, the more he... kind of likes it.

So he has to deal with what kind of person it makes him that he wasn't interested in a relationship at all when they were both on somewhat even footing, but he's interested now that Huaisang needs him.

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

Reincarnated Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao keep gravitating to immortal Nie Huaisang. Lifetime after lifetime, they always find him eventually, and no matter how it starts out, it always ends horribly. Eventually Nie Huaisang decides the problem isn't them, it's him. So in an attempt to give them happy lives, he leaves.

It's incredibly lonely halfway around the world, but he tells himself it's for the best.

For approx three more lifetimes, nothing happens.

Good. Great. He's fine with this. Really.

And then one day two all-too-familiar faces enter his shop, one tugging a surprisingly familiar little brother behind him.

That's... he didn't see that coming.

Maybe...

No. He can't let himself hope.

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

Not-Quite-Isekai where Nie Huaisang gets stuck in a cursed novel, but he's lucky enough to be a character who only shows up for one scene, giving him almost total freedom of movement.

Unfortunately, acting on said freedom attracts the attention of the story's yandere villain who looks oddly like JGY. NHS is understandably really creeped out by this at first, but wait, if the villain's focused on him instead of the main couple, that means neither of them will die. They wouldn't have to wait for reincarnation to get their happy ending. So he figures he can just endure until either the story is changed or he's rescued, whichever comes first.

But then the happy ending is achieved and he's still trapped. Realizing that no one will ever come for him and he's just going to have to live out his life in this new world, he breaks down and tells the villain everything in the self-destructive hope that he'll abandon him too.

But it doesn't work out that way.

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

Due to mutations in cultivation style, the sects literally cannot communicate with each other, because even outer disciples become too entrenched within a few weeks and lose their ability to understand common language.

For some reason related to his mother's heritage, Nie Huaisang is the only one who can speak/read/write all of the sect languages, and thus has had the important but frustrating job of acting as the universal translator. to keep down accusations of bias, he's had to give up his position in his home sect and continually travels as a neutral party.

It's a bitterly lonely position, until he happens to cross paths with a recently-rejected Jin bastard. Who, interestingly, shares his ability.

"If you have any sense, you won't let anyone know you can read that."

Meng Yao manages to keep himself from jumping in surprise, then very carefully closes the -stolen- text and looks over at his temporary travel companion. "And why would that be?" he asks, keeping his tone neutral enough to admit to nothing.

The stranger looks unimpressed by his acting. "I know you're of Jin blood, and that's a Jiang book."

Meng Yao frowns. "Why is that a problem? Is it illegal to learn even the most basic tenets of another sect?"

The stranger blinks. "You… Wow. You really weren't raised in the cultivation world at all, were you?"

Meng Yao bristles, but before he can snap back, his travel companion reaches out and taps the book in his lap.

"Major or Minor, none of the sects speak or write in the same language. It's tied to the very core of each sect's cultivation style. This should be nothing but useless scratches to you, but evidently, it's not."

"And you? Can you read it?"

"I can read anything," the stranger says. "And if people find out you're like me, you'll end up like me."

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

(Macross AU) Meng Yao's mother was a famous idol singer for the war effort against the Zentradi until her career was ruined when she got pregnant. She never blamed him for it, but he could always tell how much she missed the stage and resolved to one day do her proud by launching a career of his own.

There's just one problem. While he can handle audiences and cameras just fine while speaking, singing is another matter.

Eventually he has to grudgingly admit he'd be much better at managing and PR for another singer's career, and he gets an extremely weird chance to showcase those talents when he's hired as the manager/assistant for the world's first fully-AI idol, Sang.

He's extremely uncomfortable with it at first, because while Sang is sweet and cuddly and a little spoiled, he was programmed to be that way, and it's bizarre.

But, gradually, he finds himself being drawn in by the AI's charm, and they bond.

They become close enough that one night Sang lets him in on a horrifying secret: he's not a program created from scratch, he's an uploaded mind.

And he's been using the data streams of his concerts to search for a missing brother right under the noses of his owners, who may have been the ones to make his brother go missing.

[Will you help me, Yao-ge?]

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

Meng Shi was a huli jing, but never got beyond her first tail because of a curse.

After her death, little fox child Meng Yao sets off in search of his father using what clues she left behind.

Thanks to some severe bad luck, he instead winds up getting caught by a hunting party led by not-yet-dead Papa Nie.

Fully expecting to be killed, because he's heard about the Nie Sect's animosity to monsters, he's more than a little surprised when Papa Nie is like "Hm, you're a sharp kid and you can sprout fur. You'll make an excellent companion for my younger son who almost gets killed by the cold every winter."

Nie Mingue is understandably suspicious of dear old dad bringing home a fox child, but Nie Huaisang, already falling under the weather as the temperature drops, loves him on sight.

#mdzs #cql #sangyao #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #papa nie #jin guangyao #ideas #long post

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newpathwrites · 6 months

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Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Okay…” He closed his eyes and absorbed Rya’s calm before pulling away. He hadn’t understood before, when Rya spoke of needing human touch at times to feel secure, but he absolutely understood it now. He had felt like he was free-falling through space, plummeting to his death, utterly alone if he lost her - his truest friend, but the touch of her hand was the tether pulling him back to safety.

He would never forget this lesson.

Summary: Din and Rya become reluctant parents, and Din makes a painful mistake…

Note: The remaining chapters will loosely align with the storyline of season 1 and 2. This chapter primarily takes place in S1:E4. I will admit that I am ignoring some minor plot details and timelines to fit my purposes here.

While Din’s touch aversion will not go away in this story as it’s an inherent part of him, he will come to view touch differently through his experiences with Rya and the child, and that shift really starts in this chapter. Meanwhile, they’ll both start to consider what this platonic partnership really means to them.

Poor Omera knows not what she does…

Warnings: Injury, harming someone unintentionally, guilt, and temporary angst.

Read on AO3

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Just when Din and Rya had settled into this new routine together, their lives were thrown upside down a second time. Bounty hunting was no life for a child - but neither was imperial experimentation… so they’d had to make it work.

It wasn’t all bad… The kid was cute and had quickly become attached to both adults in a rather sweet way. Rya had always been good with children, one of the reasons she’d taken responsibility for the foundlings at the covert, and Din marveled at how naturally she cared for the strange toddler, the motherly affection that the little one probably craved after years of isolation coming to her with ease.

It was more difficult for Din, but still, he’d been taking it all in stride, much to Rya’s surprise. He was more natural with children than he gave himself credit for, and he was able to moderate his mental state remarkably well in the face of the child’s unpredictable behavior. Rya had literally held her breath the first time the child had reached out to touch Din’s leg where he sat in the pilot seat - there hadn’t been enough time to warn him or to grab the offending toddler, and she had been terrified that Din would react on reflex as he might to a stranger touching him unexpectedly. Though his shoulders visibly tensed as tiny claws made contact, he had relaxed almost immediately and leaned down to pull the child into his lap, chatting away about the maps and controls as if the little one might understand. Who would have thought? Din Djarin just might make an excellent father.

But it wasn’t all happy, either. Between the lost freedom from the helmets that bonding had afforded them - now impossible with a third person living in the ship - and the constant feeling of danger lurking around every corner, the two Mandalorians were just about at the end of their ropes. Something needed to give, and so hatched the plan to escape off map - to the tiny farming planet of Sorgan. Maybe the kid could stretch their legs a bit, and the two adults might be able to enjoy a few moments of privacy in a safe place.

It appeared to be the right choice. Nobody here seemed to question their intentions or find the odd trio suspicious in any way - former rebel dropper Cara Dune aside, but even she dropped the act once assured that the bounty hunter hadn’t come to Sorgan on her account. Having a child under their care was probably helpful on that front, too - how threatening could they really look when wiping spilled soup off of a toddler’s face?

The small village that had enlisted their help with the local raiders was incredibly welcoming and had provided relatively comfortable accommodations, for which Rya expressed her enthusiastic gratitude. Meanwhile, the child quickly made friends with all of the village’s young people, intrigued by his peculiarity and softened by his sweet countenance.

Interestingly, the village’s incredibly kind unofficial leader, Omera, who had offered her barn up as temporary quarters, had taken an immediate liking to Din, and he’d spent quite a bit of time in her company. Rya didn’t mind, of course - their bond was purely platonic - but she found it hard to believe that Din and Omera could possibly be on the same page. He hadn’t shown even a passing interest in romance in his entire life, and the woman appeared to have particular intentions. Clearly, she had no idea that Din was already, for all intents and purposes, a married man - and further, one who had no interest in intimate relationships. Rya wondered amusedly if she should give either party a heads-up or just sit back and watch the situation crash and burn.

In any case, training the village had gone well, Omera suspiciously skilled herself, and they’d taken down the raiders without casualty or life-threatening injury - or so they thought.

——————————

“Hey, friend?” Omera approached Rya where she sat on the porch with the sleeping child in her arms, relaxing after the hard-fought battle. “Mando’s injury looks worse than he was letting on. He was very insistent that he didn't need help, but I really don’t think he can handle it by himself. Maybe he’ll let you ?”

Rya snickered softly. “Well, the man is stubborn, but I’ll try. Thanks for letting me know.” Rya handed the child to Omera as she stood. “Do you mind watching the little one and keeping everyone away from the barn for a bit?”

Omera nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll leave some medical supplies outside the door in case you need them.”

Rya tilted her helmet in gratitude and headed toward their makeshift quarters.

She knocked a few times in warning before pushing the door slightly open and calling out to him. “Din… it’s just me. Omera thought you might need my help.” Rya paused, suddenly realizing that the issue might be of gender more than creed. “Or should I see if one of the men could help you?”

“No,” he responded quickly, sounding pained. “Just you…”

Rya slotted herself through the door and closed it firmly behind her before placing a nearby chest in front of it as a barricade and regarding the situation. Din had pulled off the upper armor and unzipped his flight suit but was still fully covered, attempting to cauterize a wound on his side through the tear in his shirt. It did not appear to be going well, blood pooling immediately each time he pulled the gauze away to use the cautery device.

Rya kept her eyes on his helmet as she pulled off her own and offered assistance. “Din, can I help you? It will be easier if you take the shirt off and let me cauterize… And you can take off the helmet if you want, too - Omera will keep everyone away.”

He hesitated a moment before reaching a hand up to pull off his helmet. There was a bit of anxiety and indecision in his eyes, and Rya gathered he was self-conscious at his unarmored state, even with her. “Can we keep the shirt on ?” Hmmm… Rya figured he’d never been in any state of undress in another person’s presence before. That was alright - they could meet in the middle.

“Maybe we could just lift it enough to uncover the wound? It will be cleaner that way.” He always responded well to rationality and compromise.

Din looked uneasy still, but finally he nodded in affirmation.

Rya pulled a stool up beside him, hoping to make this quick to mitigate his discomfort with the situation.

But just as she pulled the edge of his shirt free from the waist of his pants to get a better look, her gloved hand just barely brushing the skin of his side as she did so, strong fingers clamped hard around her wrist - hard enough to break a bone if he applied even an ounce more pressure. Her eyes went wide with shock as she winced in pain, and he dropped her wrist as if burned.

He was breathing heavily, panicking. “Rya… I’m so… I didn’t…”

She was too overwhelmed with a strange mix of emotions to address the incident in that moment, so she focused elsewhere, on assuaging his panic and fixing the wound bleeding steadily on his side. “Din… deep breaths… Just breathe… I won’t touch you any more than what’s necessary - okay? But you have to let me help. You’re losing a decent amount of blood.”

He nodded weakly, and she went to work, speaking only to warn him of each new touch, and looking occasionally up at his face to see how he was doing. He looked absolutely wrecked, tears threatening the corners of his eyes, and Rya’s heart broke for him - this fearless man reduced to tears at the knowledge that he’d caused her pain.

She didn’t blame him, not really - it was a reflexive reaction executed in the midst of anxiety and discomfort. But still, it was a gut-wrenching reminder that behind the protective exterior afforded only to her - and now a 50 year-old child, lay a deadly warrior. He could kill her with his bare hands if he wanted to - and apparently even if he didn’t…

As soon as the last bit of the wound was cauterized, she immediately pulled her hands away, holding them up in the air as his shirt fluttered back down over his side. “I’m done. Do you need my help putting everything back on? Otherwise, I’ll turn around to give you privacy, and you can tell me if you need me.”

Stars, he looked so sad. “I can do it…” he forced out as he held back the tears, glad at least that Rya was still willing to be in the same space with him. He wouldn’t blame her if she packed up and left him here.

Rya did as she promised, keeping her back turned, ready to help if needed. She closed her eyes as she listened to him zipping up his suit and attaching various pieces of beskar, fending off her own urge to have a good cry. It was hard to place exactly what emotion she was feeling right now - some combination of confusion and heartbreak - whether it was for him or for herself, she wasn’t entirely sure.

His hand suddenly landed on her shoulder, a very significant gesture coming from him - an offering, and she cursed herself inwardly for flinching in surprise at the contact. She wasn’t afraid of him.

But he didn’t know that, and he took two steps backward in shame as she turned to face him. “Rya…” he pleaded. “I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am. I never want to hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself that I did…”

She shook her head. “Then let me forgive you… It was just a reflex. It’s okay, Din.”

Stars, she was really too good to him. “No,” he replied quickly. “It’s not okay. There’s no justification. I have to control it - I can’t risk hurting you - or the kid - or some other innocent person.”

“Okay, you’re right…” Rya nodded in agreement with his assertion, softening her expression. “Then let this be the lesson that sticks with you for the future. Make a conscious effort to lower the defenses when you’re safe, around people you trust… I know you can do that.”

“I can… I will…” His voice was resolute and sincere. He finally took a step forward. “Is your wrist alright?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I promise.” He exhaled in relief, but he still looked lost, adrift without his anchor - the partner he feared he’d just pushed away forever. So Rya made an offering of her own, extending both hands out in front of her, waiting for him to reach out and touch her again if he wanted - showing him that she wasn’t afraid. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t hesitate, wrapping his hands around hers, thumbs resting on her palms. “We’re alright, Din. Okay?”

He would never forget this lesson.

——————————

“What’s it like - living with your brother in such close quarters?” Omera questioned Rya, cheeks flushed from the spotchka the three women had been sharing, enjoying some girl talk while the men set up the bonfire. Rya didn’t normally indulge with outsiders, but their time here was coming to a close, fearing the hunters would eventually catch up, and she would sorely miss being around other women, ones very much like herself.

Cara smirked in delight. “ You didn’t know ?” She snickered. “Oh, Maker, it explains so much…” she trailed off in a fit of giggles as she took another swig.

Omera looked between them, confused. “I didn’t know what ?”

Rya sighed. Time to break the poor woman’s heart. “He and I are not siblings. We’re bonded - it’s the Mandalorian equivalent of marriage.”

The look of horror on Omera’s face was priceless. “ Dank farrik … I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. Kriff , I’m so embarrassed!” She buried her face in her hands, all the more dramatic in her slightly inebriated state. “He just reminds me so much of Winta’s father… All this time I was blatantly pursuing him… and none of you said a word! I don’t understand - you don’t act at all like a married couple… And when I… he didn’t even…” She trailed off with a little frustrated exclamation, throwing her hands up in humiliated defeat.

Rya took pity on her, leaning forward to comfort her. Really, she should have addressed this weeks ago. “Omera, there’s no need to be embarrassed. The truth is that he and I are both free to do as we please. Our relationship is not romantic.” The woman’s eyes lit up in hope that there might still be a chance. “But…” Rya continued. “I’ve never known him to be interested in anyone that way. I obviously can’t speak for him, but I think you’ve probably been misunderstanding each other.”

Cara interrupted then. “I don’t know… he sure seems to enjoy spending time with her… How do you explain that ?” She tipped her glass in Rya’s direction, as if making an irrefutable point.

Oh, boy… Omera wasn’t going to like the answer… “Based on what he’s told me of his parents… I gather that you might remind him of his mother…”

Omera crumpled, covering her face with her hands after a mumbled “Maker…” while Cara snickered in amusement.

Rya touched her knee in comfort. “Hey, you had no way of knowing any of this. He might excel at reading his bounties’ intentions, but when it comes to the emotional stuff, he’s honestly pretty clueless. I think he was probably oblivious to your advances. And truly - our relationship is not like that, so you have nothing to feel ashamed over.”

Omera took a few calming breaths. “Okay… It’s still… very embarrassing… but I suppose I’ll live.” She managed a light chuckle. “ Stars … his mother…”

“Trust me, Omera. That’s quite a compliment.”

Cara cleared her throat loudly then. “Moving on… I’m curious about the nature of your relationship. You’re married, but it’s not romantic? How is it then?”

“Well…” Rya tried to think of how best to explain it. Were adults allowed to have best friends? “We’ve been close friends since childhood - really, each others’ only friend. Our bond was arranged by our leader, not our choice...”

Cara was intrigued now. “Why was it arranged? Procreation, I assume? So you do have a physical relationship then?”

Rya couldn’t help but chuckle as she shook her head. “Definitely not. Neither of us is interested in sex, as strange as that might sound to most people, and he can barely tolerate people touching him at all. We’ve actually been a bit subversive - letting our covert believe otherwise.”

Cara sighed, bringing her cup back to her lips to take a sip. “Too bad… I was hoping it was like… unrequited love…” Stars, the spotchka was definitely getting to her.

Rya was thoughtful, a little fuzzy herself due to the alcoholic drink. “I’m not sure that he’s capable of feeling love - at least not in the same way most people do. He’s just… different…” She sighed. “It’s okay, though. I love him enough for the both of us…” Maker, did she really just say that? It was time for her to put down the spotchka, too.

Cara predictably latched on. “So this is an unrequited love story…”

“No, not that kind of love… It’s like… a combination of the love you feel for your best friend… and the love you feel for your family… I can’t think of a better way to describe it right now. And I know that he cares for me, too - in the best way he knows how.”

Cara grinned. “Wow, that’s actually very sweet… I apologize for my skepticism.”

Omera raised her glass, still pleasantly buzzed. “We should toast to… you and Mando… and your… platonic… familial… bond…” Rya laughed as the two women clinked their glasses together. This conversation, however alcohol-addled, had actually been rather enlightening. How little you know about yourself until you’re forced to confront it…

——————————

Din was unnaturally quiet when they arrived back at the ship, even for him. When Rya returned to the cockpit after putting the child to sleep in the bunk, removing her helmet gratefully as she sat down in the passenger seat, he suddenly broke the silence.

“I need to tell you something.” He sounded serious as he turned the chair around to face her.

Rya sat up straighter, giving him her full attention. “I’m listening.”

He hesitated a long time before speaking. “Omera tried to remove my helmet…”

Rya was shocked. When? Why? He spoke again before she could ask any of these questions.

“… and I almost let her…”

What!? Din Djarin letting someone remove his helmet? Or even touch it? Rya felt blindsided by this revelation.

“Maker… say something…” He was desperate to have a conversation about this. It had been weighing on him for quite awhile.

Rya didn’t really know where to start. “Din… do you have feelings for Omera? It’s alright if you do, you know. You’re not beholden to me…”

He shook his head. “No… I do like her… but not like that… I’ve never liked anyone that way - don’t think I can… ”

“So why would you let her do that? Most people who touch your helmet receive a swift punch to the gut.” Rya tried to diffuse things a bit with humor - though this was certainly a factual statement.

He looked down at his lap. “Well, I remembered what we talked about - lowering the defenses so I don’t hurt someone unintentionally… but instead I just… froze… She was asking me to stay - you, too - and live a more peaceful life… give the kid a more normal childhood…” Rya stayed quiet, allowing him to finish the thought. “The idea of that - no more danger, no more hiding - it was attractive... But I’m not so dense that I didn’t understand the implication - that she wanted me to do that with her …”

Rya shifted to face him fully. “Din, you’re not alone in questioning the Way… I have been myself for a long time…” She paused before addressing his second assertion. “And really, it would be alright if you did want that with her - you’re not committed to me.”

“What?” he questioned quickly. “Of course I am… We took vows, and I meant them… This might not be a conventional, intimate marriage, but I am committed to you. And if I could have that peaceful life, I’d only want it with you… ”

Rya smiled broadly - he’d never revealed so much of his feelings before. It was nice to hear that the commitment to this partnership was mutual. “I’m sorry, Din. I didn’t mean to make light of our bond. I just want you to be happy.”

He slid off his helmet before responding. “Rya, besides my parents, you’re the only person who’s ever made me happy.”

Gosh, now she was grinning like a schoolgirl. If it was anyone else, she’d think he was flirting, but this was not romance. This was kindred friendship - something so much better.

“You make me happy, too, Din. And I’m very thankful for our bond - even if it isn’t as intended.”

He smiled genuinely, and she nudged his boot with her own, the only comfortably affectionate gesture she could think of in the moment. He nudged her back before turning his chair back around to set their next course.

Stars, the armorer would be so smug…

————————————————————————

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#din djarin & original female character #platonic partnership #original mandalorian female character #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #asexual din djarin #aromantic din djarin #aroace din djarin #a unique bond #newpathwrites

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samieree · 5 months

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Dawn of the North || Robb Stark

Robb Stark x OC

-> Chapter VII "Mutual Happiness" [+18]

Chapter VIII "Temporary peace"

In the morning, the two of them were still lying together, right next to each other. Amy was still dozing, her head and hand on Robb's chest, while he gently ran his hand through her loose hair, smiling as he did so.

"My love, it's morning..." he said, kissing her head through her hair.

"Doesn’t matter." she swung her bent leg over his hips and turned onto her stomach to look at him, while playing with his chest hair with her hand. "I could stay like this all day."

She felt joy after what happened last night, but also... A kind of freedom. No one will take away from her what happened, no one will change it, and what's more, it was her decision. It was she who decided with whom she wanted to share such moments and she was very happy about it. For the first time in her life she felt this kind of freedom and she didn't want to go back to a life where someone made decisions for her...

"The world won't wait." he stated, putting his arm around her.

"It'll." Amy smiled, lifting it a little on her shoulder. "A few minutes of laziness won't change it."

"A lot can happen in a few minutes." he rose to a sitting position, still holding her close to him. "You can overthrow a king and change the world. Or... You can marry the woman you love."

"Wolfie..." she started, but she didn't finish when he lunged at her neck as if he wanted to tear it apart like a real wolf. "Robb, I'm going to strangle!" she started laughing, especially when he found places on her body that were sensitive to tickling. "Stop!" she rolled onto her back and he followed her. She laughed until the teasing of her body turned into kissing her neck and gently running hands over her body. "I hope you have a shawl or something like that, because I'm sure my neck is all red."

He stopped and rose on his arms, looking at Amy carefully. Perhaps it shouldn't have taken this long to see if the neck was actually covered in red spots, but oh well... He couldn't help himself when a beautiful, naked woman lay right beneath him.

"Not so much." he finally stated, playing with her light hair. "Don't dye them, they look good as they are." he added, looking at her with a smile.

"It's just a pity I don't have curls like that." she laughed, tangling her hands in Robb's hair. They were as soft as she had imagined.

"I imagine a little, laughing girl with silver curls and bright eyes." he said, leaning over her a little more and lightly rubbing his nose against hers.

"I'm afraid I didn't have locks when I was a child either..."

"I meant... our daughter." he interrupted her, lying down next to Amy on his side.

She had to admit that he surprised her with this statement, but... She also had a vision of such a girl, their daughter, before her eyes right now.

She didn't look that far into the future, but she could confidently say that he was probably the first person with whom she would like to get together and start a family. She had met plenty of Lords in her life who would love to take her as their wife, but she knew they would treat her like a trophy. She would be their key to the royal court and a more comfortable life.

And now she was far away from it all. She wasn't a princess, she was a woman infatuated - perhaps even in love.

"You meant to say: Your little princess." he rolled his eyes, moving his hand to her stomach at those words. "Maybe you'll get her someday, your princess with the curly silver hair." she added, placing her hand on his, on her stomach. As always, the thought of pregnancy and motherhood terrified her a bit, but now she was starting to look at it from a different perspective, a positive one.

Oh, what are you doing with me…

"Unless my mother decides to keep me under lock and throw keys away."Amy laughed, shaking her head. "I love her, she's my mother, but she can be... Overprotective."

"She doesn't like me." she sad, also turning on her side, facing Robb.

"Nonsense."

"She doesn't like me and probably won't change her mind. Never." she shrugged.

"She will, once she gets to know you better. And she'll probably even start treating you like her daughter and only then you can start to be afraid." Amy laughed again, burying her face in Robb's chest. "Don't laugh, I'm serious." he took her face in his hands and turned her to look at him.

"I think our mothers would get along." she said, rising a little and kissing him. "I guess I finally have to get up. I wouldn't want anyone to find me here like this." she wanted to pull away and get up, but he didn't let her, hugging her around her waist and around her neck.

"No one will come here, let me enjoy you just a little bit more."

"You said it yourself earlier that you had to get up. And we will have plenty of time to enjoy each other." she explained, resting her hands on his chest, giving him a quick peck on the lips and pulling away, taking the covers with her.

However, when she sat on the edge of the bed, Robb took the covers from her in one move. She looked at him over her shoulder, reaching out for the fabric.

"Are you ashamed of your state?" he asked, ignoring her significant gaze.

She silently stood up, went to grab the clothes that were still on the ground, and picked them up.

"There." she said, throwing all these clothes at him, then crossed her arms as she walked towards the chair where another cloth was hanging.

"Is this how you treat your king?" he said mockingly.

"And how do you treat the princess?"

"Wait... That's my bathrobe." he said as the girl put the said bathrobe on. It was obviously too big for her, but she had no problem with it.

"And?" she walked a little closer to the bed where he was still lying.

When she was close enough, he suddenly moved up, grabbed her by the waist, and rolled her back onto the bed, accompanied by her laughter.

"Robb... We have to get up. I'm sure you have some things to do." he sighed, getting up from her and sitting on the bed, which she did right after him.

She took the dress she was wearing the day before and got up to put it on. Robb started dressing up too and soon they were both dressed.

"But will you come in the evening...?" he asked hopefully, still lightly hugging her waist.

"And why?" she raised an eyebrow, tying the boy's leather shirt all the way.

"I don't want to sleep alone anymore..." he admitted, leaning towards her and pressing their foreheads together. "I wish I could hug you freely in front of everyone, not have to wonder what my mother would say if she caught us, not..." she interrupted him, placing her index finger on his lips.

"Relax." she smiled gently, moving her hand to his cheek. "I will come, especially for you."

He smiled back and kissed her gently, lovingly, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger. She placed her hands on his shoulders and stood on her tiptoes a little, returning his caresses. He reached for some loose fabric that was lying on the chair and threw it around her neck right after they broke apart.

"So you do have a shawl after all." she said, straightening the fabric around her neck and covering it a little with her cloak, which she put over her shoulders.

They didn't say a word, just exchanged smiles and the girl left the tent. She could already see on the horizon the interrogation that Talisa would give her, in which she would have to lie a little.

Most of the day did not pass in any extraordinary way for either of them. One could even go so far as to say that it was a routine day, practically no different from others.

Well, except that Robb had gone to meet his mother before the evening, wondering in the back of his mind all day what he actually wanted to tell her. He found a few sentences that would be most appropriate for the conversation he was about to have, but he didn't lie to himself that the Catelyn would not reproach him - in fact, they were the most certain element of this conversation.

When it came down to it and he was sitting in a chair opposite her, all ideas for tackling the topic evaporated. He was running out of time to think of something when his mother brought them a water to drink, and like it or not, he had to look up at her and stop playing with his fingers, focusing most of his attention on that.

"So...?" she asked, slightly concerned about her son's long silence. By that she expected only bad informations that he just can't get past his throat.

He took a breath, casting a quick glance to the side before he said anything.

"I know what you're going to say... But I can't marry any of Lord Frey's daughters. Or any of his granddaughters and stuff like that." he confessed, not taking his eyes off his mother, who froze for a moment. Before giving any answer, she bought herself some time to think it over by taking a sip of water.

"What does "You can't" mean?"

"Exactly that. I can't marry any of them." he repeated, looking at his mother a little more confidently.

Due to his upbringing, he valued honor very highly. But he valued the honor of the person he fell in love with even more highly. He was afraid that someone would find out what had happened between them, and this would mean that he had disgraced her by taking her virginity without a marriage. And even worse if she got pregnant.

He wasn't going to put her in such a situation, he would rather break his promise than put her through such unpleasantness. But the problem was that she was so stubborn that she didn't want to marry him as long as he was bound by the oath...

"A few day a..."

"I know what I said." he interrupted her before she could finish her sentence. "But don't tell me you fully believed it yourself. Wait... You wanted to believe because you arranged this marriage."

She didn't like the tone of her son's words to her. She didn't like this whole conversation at all.

"To which you agreed and gave Lord Walder your word! That as soon as the war ends..."

"I know perfectly well what I said. Just like I know I won't do it." he tried to sit still and even succeeded. Apart from the racing thoughts in his head, of course.

"You can't break your word! Just do this and your people will do the same." she was angry and didn't even try to hide it. Not so long ago she was sure that everything was on track, but then she realized that she was wrong. "Maybe you'll tell me that this... silver-haired woman seduced you and convinced you to do it after being..."

"Stop bringing her into everything." he interrupted her abruptly, knowing full well what his mother was getting at - and she wasn't too close to the truth, although on the other hand she wasn't very far from it either. "I thought that as a mother you would be happy for your child."

"Happy?!" she stood up abruptly. "I could be happy because of it before all this, where it would actually be happiness. But now? It's more of a curse." as she looked at him, she began to see anger in his eyes for the first time since their conversation began.

He definitely didn't like his mother's reaction to all this.

"I told you I won't break my word and that's true." he rose from the chair, walking to the table on which there was a jug of wine. He needed something stronger than just water at this moment. "Even she doesn't want me to do it."

Catelyn laughed briefly and without even a hint of amusement.

"Probably the only good decision in her life."

"Why do you hate her so much?" he asked, turning to her with a glass of wine in his hand. "She's a good girl from a good family, and you insist on hating her. Why?"

"I don't hate her. And I don't deny that she is beautiful and even high-born..." no name had to be mentioned for them both to know exactly who they were talking about. "Not to mention your promise, how long have you known each other? You are young, I know this may seem important to you..."

"Because it is important to me." he interrupted her, drinking some wine. However, he seemed to ignore the question Catelyn asked him, but after a few minutes of silence, surprisingly, he answered it. "You once said that when you and father got married, you barely knew each other." he looked at his mother. "And now you say that I don't know the woman I want to marry too well?"

"You know perfectly well that it was a different situation. But since you're coming back to it, why, seeing that things have worked out for your father and me, don't you want to try with Frey's daughter?" he rolled his eyes at these words, when Catelyn looked somewhere to the side. "I realize that you're at war, you're under stress, and you're even more attracted to such a feeling right now, but..."

"You still don't recognise the family she said when you first met?" he asked quickly, wanting to divert the conversation. While saying this, he was also swirling the glass in his hand, playing with the rest of the wine inside, wondering how to best put into words what he wanted to say. When his mother didn't answer him, he began to explain. "The Maester once told me about them. About the Igaren family - an offshoot of the Targaryens - in the kingdom created during the Targaryen glory beyond the wall. About the kingdom that was supposed fall with them." he put the goblet on the table, looking away from it and towards his mother. "Just like the rest of the family, they had light hair and violet eyes. The only difference between them is that they no longer exist, and the main line of the family continues." Catelyn snorted.

"All the Targaryens were killed after the mad king was overthrown, even the youngest children."

"What if... They were long far away from the Seven Kingdoms by then?"

"What do you mean?" she stood up, moving a little closer to her son.

"That Tywin and Robert didn't murder everyone."

* * *

As promised, Amy came to his tent in the evening. She waited until a Lord who was on the meeting left and then after a few minutes she entered the tent herself.

Almost immediately after entering, Robb was right next to her, placing a short kiss on her lips and forehead.

"Don't tell me you miss me so much, because I won't believe it." she said, smiling and shaking her head. She pulled out the bottle of wine she had been holding across the road under her coat in one hand, smiling a little wider. "Nobody checks what I bring." he laughed, taking the bottle from her and opening it. "I just hope you obviously have gemstone-encrusted glasses you keep especially for the princesses." she said jokingly, following him to the table.

"Of course, rubies or emeralds?" he asked in the same tone, opening the bottle, when Amy placed her head on his shoulder, hugging him from behind.

"Rubies remind me of warmth, which I have always lacked. Although I don't know if the colors will blend with the wine..." she closed her eyes a bit, pretending to be thinking.

"What a serious considerations." he poured some wine into their goblets.

"But I brought it for myself, you can't drink, you have to think clearly."

"I'll drink just a little, I have a strong head." she raised an eyebrow at those words, moving away and taking one of the glasses in her hand, then sitting on the table.

"I have to get up much earlier tomorrow than today." she said unexpectedly, sipping some wine. "If I'm to go to talk with Lord Frey..."

"Wait a minute..." he interrupted her. "You want to go and talk?" she nodded. "I'll speak to him."

"Talking to others is not beyond me, really, I even have the gift of persuasion." she stubbornly stuck to her point. Especially since she already had an idea for such a conversation and was going to implement it. "You won't stop me anyway."

"I think you underestimate me." she rolled her eyes, looking somewhere to the side. "Besides, it's my business and I have to deal with it."

"Let me remind you that you are at war and you don't have time to go to Frey for tea. And I have this time."

"You want to go alone?" she drank the rest of the wine from her goblet and set it down on the table, and after a while she got down, coming close to Robb and leaning her hands lightly on his torso.

"It wouldn't be the first time I travel alone and talk to disgusting person, I'll be fine." she smiled gently, tracing his chest with her index finger.

She wondered for a moment if she wanted to add anything else, simply enjoying the moment alone with Robb when there wasn't that awkward kind of silence between them. She was aware that he wouldn't want to let her go there alone, but at the same time she wasn't going to give up when she had everything sorted out in her head and all she needed to do was convince him instead of starting a quarrel between them about the trip.

So she snuggled into his hand as he gently cupped her cheek and leaned towards her. She wanted this closeness, but at the same time she wanted to achieve her goal - and she could do both things at once.

"And this is not only your cause, but ours." she looked up into his eyes as she said these words. "Besides, I told you - I know how to talk with people."

She embraced his neck tighter, pulling him slightly towards her and connecting their lips in a passionate kiss, pressing her body against his as much as possible.

-> Chapter IX "The Twins" -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

#robb stark #game of thrones #got #robb stark x oc #robb stark x targaryen oc #robb stark x targaryen #catelyn stark #robb stark game of thrones #robb stark fanfiction #game of thrones robb stark

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wistrearchived · 7 months

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mini verse drop! a compilation of synopsis for kira's others verses that i don't have up yet because i'm ... slow <3

verses here: one piece, final fantasy 7, final fantasy 15, mortal kombat, hunter x hunter, and more i'll add soon. i kept it under a cut because it got waaaay too long.

one piece, slight spoilers for the wano country arc. kira was originally from a little island in wano country wherein her clan had long since been in the tradition of taking care of the island known as awayuki, before kaidou had appeared and taken the power and honor away from their family name. at the age of thirteen, kira and her brothers, the last of their clan, somehow managed to flee from wano with their mother's help. but as they fled on a ship away from new country, they were picked up by pirates who were not so friendly, and then rescued by the crew of pirates who were much more friendly, led by a man they called the blood hunter. it was with the blood hunter's help that the horikoshi's managed to get by, keeping their origins as a secret.

kira is now the pirate captain of a crew known as the spider lily. her current bounty is 650,000,000 berries. although she herself doesn't have a devil fruit, she has been keeping the tradition of her clan alive as the heir to awayuki, which is why she is able to use all forms of haki to a great degree. her motivations here are genuinely just to explore her freedom and act upon her ambitions freely, loves to have fun. she who is never seen without a smirk or a smile. up until wano arc, then things get a little messier >:]

final fantasy 7 + crisis core. kira was born and raised in gongaga, where she was childhood friends with cassi's zack fair. eventually starts working at shinra electric company as a turk in the department of public safety, and she's almost frighteningly good at her job, especially the ones that the company would rather she kept secret for ... a lot of reasons. it's only in post-crisis core that kira gets deeper involved with covert operations for shinra, as well as having willingly subjected to herself to an experiment that led her to be merged with something known as shiva-materia, the same as the summoning, a project that resulted in her developing ice abilities, as well as the capability to turn into the shiva summon.

final fantasy 15. its a Lot and i literally have no idea where i put the docs i wrote for this bUT ANYWAY! a few spoilers for the book "the dawn of the future", kira was a creation of niflheim / verstael besithia in his goals of creating a vessel born of darkness but they weren't expecting it to result into a child made to be the herald of bahamut, a fake title bestowed upon her by the god of war who plans to use the darkness itself as his source of power. which is also why, during the 10 years noctis was in the crystal, kira was damned to remain in her daemon form (aka without the light, now there is nothing to keep her from drowning in her own darkness) so that when bahamut brings back lunafreya, the god of war fully intends to shatter kira and drain her like the vessel she was meant to be, nothing more than a temporary living thing, an existence that was never meant to be by the fates.

but before all that :) ki was basically "raised" in niflheim, and i put raised in quotes because it was not a very good living situation, in which she was mostly treated like an asset rather than a living being. which is why kira is very cold, closed off to the point that she is not good at dealing with people outside of cunning and intimidation, which was most of her experience with people in nifhleim. a raven disguised as a dove, called dove for the way she was described as a bird dressed in all white, as was niflheim's colors, a masked figure at the emperor's side. the emperor who she had been manipulating the entire time. basically a journey of her wanting to be human, discovering if she begins and ends where the darkness does :)

mortal kombat. ok admittedly i'm not super knowledgeable when it comes to this lore, so i might get a few things wrong? but here we go 🧍‍♀️ this is going to be based on the new/current timeline. i wanna say that in one of the previous timelines, kira was someone who had the power of primordial chaos magic, but had been the cause of a calamity due to an orchestrated tragedy, and so she became the new incarnate of the primordial. but she wasn't evil, so to speak. just the manifestation of anarchy, which isn't inherently evil. however there's always going to be a possibility that kira will become the calamity once again, so! in the new timeline, kira is a witch from outworld, in a realm close to edenia known as hazakura, which was once ruled by kira's mother, a powerful sorceress. kira was born with chaos magic, bound to the primordial force known as chaos. it was then that one of the four lords known as the first in their realm's court betrayed masako, staging the execution of her mother in kombat while her father hanshiro was murdered in cold blood. but before the first lord could capture kira for her magic, instead kira's mother siphoned her daughter's magic to save her and told her to run. masako was not meant to harbor such a powerful magic, and so kira assumes that it killed her. the first lord had instigated a mutiny with the other three lords under the guise that they will rule equally without their sovereign, but he instead took the throne for himself.

fast forward! kira has been living without her magic ever since the first lord's betrayal, a witch would magic was nearly a laughable tragedy. what sliver of her abilities she managed to salvage remained in her naginata, the last gift her mother took from her. kira's goal is basically to take her magic back from the first lord who has been using it (the lord who's been using her mother as a catalyst trapped within a crystal in hazakura) all these years. she needs her magic back, all these years keeping her identity as a secret while wearing many other masks, but she is a capable fighter without her full abilities. perhaps you'll meet her as a street performer dancing in edenia that they call the raven, or you'll meet her when you find her eldest brother, matsuko, who leads her mercenaries known as the corvids as her brother aims to liberate hazakura from the first lord. an assassin, an elusive figure, who keeps her ambitions close to her heart. she's kira, though more often called chaos.

basically her arc is a side quest where you can help her take her magic back, and after killing the first lord, she becomes chaos. matsuko takes the throne as the sovereign lord of hazakura and eventually negotiates a peace with edenia as mileena becomes empress. kira is very happy when she gets her magic back <3

hunter x hunter. the kazehaya clan was an old bloodline, thought to have disappeared after they were destroyed by their old rivals, the zoldyck family. their remaining descendants, what little they were, had gone into hiding and no one knows that they were, in truth, the horikoshi clan. kira horikoshi is a bounty hunter working for the hunter's association, as well as a floor master in heavens arena. she's a transmuter nen type user, able to manifest her nen into the properties of weaponized lightning and ice, as well as a third more menacing thing known as primordial chaos if she's feeling a little more exciting.

#i tried to keep it short... and then failed AJKLSDHF #a few of these are still wips so they might change? soon...#when i decide to give a lil bit more thought into it LMAO #[ 𝐢. ] ooc › the risk i took was calculated‚ but man am i bad at math.

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 2 years

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I think it might be a new ship, yes. Then, follow up, slightly like the thing with all four of them but not quite; Arthur running Castor's software in the background, allowing him to piggyback onto physical reality. Possibly letting him have control for a bit...

I like that this is pretty much booting House out of the body. He doesn't get to be in Arthur, he's got his hologram pin, he can suck it up.

On with the fic!

Having someone else occupying your systems was a little odd, but not the worth thing to happen to Arthur, if his malfunction and having his sim card removed without his permission was anything to go by.

He had offered to let Zuse, Castor, come with him to the real world, out of ENCOM, in his body. It was really the only way they could save Castor when Clu had figured out that something had been happening behind the scenes.

While House had been annoyed about it, when was he ever happy with anything involving Castor, the Doctor had been pleased and excited about this. This was only going to be temporary, he had stated, as he could find an android body for Castor until they could get back into the system to figure out how to make a human body from it.

But until then, Castor was in Arthur's body, and seemed rather taken with it. This did worry Arthur a little, he did not want to have his body stolen from him, especially when he was finally allowed freedom from the ship. But he felt he could trust the program, it seemed his fascination was just more in how he could interact with the real world over anything else.

Though he did seem a bit... touchy, in a way Arthur was not familiar with.

Well, he was aware of how Castor was open with his flirting, and was rather hands-on with his approach to it, considering how he was around the Doctor. And, well, sometimes Arthur himself.

But with them both sharing his body, the touching was... different.

Arthur may not be in control now, but Castor was, currently looking himself over in the mirror in the Doctor's massive closet. While he found the android's red suit and black bow tie combo to be charming, it wasn't his own style, he wanted something fitting for himself when he was in control.

Being a good host, Arthur said it was fine, as long as it was tasteful. Castor had just smiled at the reflection and started to undress.

It was an interesting choice for the humans who created Arthur to give him a human torso to go along with his other human features, was there any need? No, but maybe it was meant to make people more comfortable? He wasn't sure, he could find no notes as to why in his blueprint file.

But Castor seemed to appreciate it, having said a number of compliments that made Arthur's internal systems overheat for a moment or two.

"What do you think, darling?" Castor said, pale eyes looking at the reflection in the mirror, holding up two different jackets. "Which is more... my style?"

Arthur's eyes changed to hazel as he looked between the two dress jackets, both different shades of white, but each was of a different material. One was clearly more Arthur's taste, the other was an odd... pleather texture, it seemed, reminded Arthur of Castor's normal jacket.

"I suppose this is much more your style." He held up the pleather one.

"Are you sure?" Came Castor's tone from his mouth. "I don't want to mess up your own look too much, you've been such a dear and all. Hosting me when you didn't have to do that."

"I didn't want you to be shattered." Arthur said, and he hadn't, it seemed like such a sad way to go.

"You're too good to me, Arthur." Castor smiled and slipped on the jacket, buttoning it up in a style similar to that of the Doctor's own. "How about I let you add your own touch, would you like your tie?"

"Black is not fitting of the white you wish to wear."

"Ah? I thought it was."

"Not what you have in mind." Arthur commented and zipped down the walk away on his wheels, coming to a stop at a large collection of ties of all sorts. He rummaged through them quickly before returning to the mirror.

He slipped it on under his collar and let Castor take a look. It was a simple, pale blue bow tie, left untied to go with the not-buttoned collar of the shirt. Castor seemed to be pleased with this.

"Oh, you are a clever boy." He commented.

"I live to please." Arthur said, matter-of-factly.

"Mmm, of course you do." Castor said, looking himself over in the mirror before kissing the lips of his fingers, then tapped them to his cheek. "Thank you, love. Let's go show the Doctor!" He moved down the walkway to the lift that the TARDIS had been kind enough to materialize for Arthur.

Within the privacy of his own mind, Arthur wondered about the indirect kiss he was given. He really should ask the Doctor about these strange changes to his programming, he wasn't sure he was meant to be having feelings like this towards people.

Or maybe he should just let them happen, after all, he was a freeman now.

Castor is such a fun character to write, like a chaotic Miles who clearly has a kill count.

#castor x arthur #john's drabbles #good omens extended universe

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