#i know its not true. but still. itch at the back of my mind. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starry-bi-sky · 5 months

Text

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

#dpxdc #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny phantom au #dpdc danny fenton #i am incapable of making short posts it seems. heavy sigh #this post is open to add ons if anyone's interested 👉👈#this entire au is essentially the song 'Strange Sight' by KT Turnstall from the Tinkerbell and the Neverbeast #This post mostly goes into how danny and damian's relationship develops because i think that's the more important part of the au #also damian's like six i firmly believe he wouldn't know much english #no no he's learning arabic first and then english LATER. if he would ever even get there with the league #iirc all the damian clones liked Danny so i wanna explore how their relationship got to that point. Like what happened for Danny to get eve #getting one Damian clone to like him enough to go up to bat for him? that takes time and patience and i wanna explore that lol #danny's in his late teens here btw.#Clone Damian is a 7yo child and I'm writing him as such because its fun. I thought about having Clone Damian change his name but nothing fi #little clone damian is also A Tad Clingy. Danny is the First Person to have shown him a kindness and Damian Imprinted On Him Like a Duck #i love clone aus and clone aus love me #clone damian and danny are bROOOTHEERSS #i thought about making clone damian's name damon bc its close to the name damian but also i like the idea that clone damian keeps the--#original name and then makes it his own. something about taking the name you were given thats not really yours and MAKING it yours

982 notes · View notes

zhongrin · 2 years

Text

behind the screen

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ yandere, sagau

◇ a/n ◇ ok ok ok story time liSTEN-

i was showing a friend genshin for the first time few weekends ago, and ofc i had zhongli out (she wasn't interested in him tho, sad) to walk around and basically show her around the world. and then we stopped a bit while i explained the whole thing about the usual party composition & the concept of gacha, and ofc zhongli starts talking about osmanthus wine-

so i rolled my eyes (cause i was in the middle of an explanation) and said "zhongli shush" and you know what happened? he. fucking. stopped. talking. the idle animation canceled. i almost pissed myself until i remembered the controller was in my friend's hand and she had moved the joystick. THAT ALMOST SCARED ME TO DEATH SLFJSLJFLS LMAO

so yeah have a drabble 'inspired' by that. toodles~

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

he knows you love his voice.

it's something you always tell him, both directly and indirectly. you would drop in his voiceover menu every now and then, purposefully put him on idle so you can listen to his musings, and whenever he appears on scenes you would visibly deflate if the dialogues involving him are muted from your side. at such times, he takes one step closer to the idea of breaking this world's laws entirely, because if you wish to hear him then you should be able to - you should always get whatever you want, the deity that you are in his eyes.

like now, when you're gushing about him to what seems to be your friend. he's never heard of her before, but you seem close, and he feels the familiar twitch of his fingers, itching to reach out to you, to pull you close and smother you with his presence instead.

from the way you had to explain the basics of his world, he assumes your friend is a complete beginner entirely. but surprisingly she doesn't seem to be too impressed with him, despite the excitement that's filling your voice, and he can sense how agitated it made you. true enough, when he stealthily sneaks a glance, you're pouting a little before you launch into an explanation of how necessary of an addition he is to the team, and the workings behind the gacha system.

adorable.

... but your attention is slipping away from him. now that- he can't have that. he sighs and triggers the idle function with your favorite audio file that he frequently abuses, feeling his body and lips move as per the scripted codes.

"osmanthus wine-"

"zhongli, shush!"

...... what?

it was a reflex. a force of habit, you could say. no one likes to be talked over by someone else when they're talking, right?

"sorry, he's a little-"

you stop talking because suddenly, it's silent. the hair on the back of your neck rises.

"did you move the joystick?" you ask your friend, eyeing the now-still 3d model of your favorite character on the big tv screen.

"huh? no?" she answered, waving the gadget by its handle with one hand, "uh- didn't you say it has drifting problems? maybe it's that?"

".... yeah........ yeah, that's got to be it. anyway, as i was saying-"

zhongli is needlessly quiet for the rest of your little showcase. you continue to talk with your friend happily, the little event pushed to the back of your mind as you enjoy spending time with one of your favorite people, throwing jokes, laughs, and eventually turning off genshin to move on to celebrity crushes and a cute looking singer that's going to have his little concert in the city soon.

zhongli lets you.

for it would be the last time you could enjoy the such activity before he forcefully pulls you into their side.

to his side, where you rightfully belong to.

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #yandere #sagau #rin writes

3K notes · View notes

jqnehr · 3 months

Text

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲

you and zayne enjoy a picnic together.

word count: 1.6k contains: fluff, crack, my shitty writing strikes again zayne x reader so!! with the poll voting zayne as the winner, I have presented you with the fic y'all wanted!! this idea came to me in the nick of time when I saw his memory of him peeling an apple. and, due to receiving a few asks about xavier, his fic will be uploaded today or sometime this week!!

“do you like your apples peeled?” zayne’s hazel-green eyes are obscured by his raven fringe. he’s already peeling the apple in his hand, relaxed against the picnic mat you’d both laid out upon the grass, basket beside him. today’s little date involved you coercing zayne into finally taking a day off, much to his reluctance. you made sure he’d dressed appropriately—in comfortable, warm casual clothes with a woollen cardigan to keep himself from the cold. not that he’d really feel it, anyway—his evol seems to boost his resilience to the somewhat chilly air. still, you’re making sure all precautions are taken.

“I do,” you respond, straightening from the picnic basket you were just rummaging through, looking for the paper cups you swear you packed. the 2 litre bottle of fizzy lemonade you’d picked up at the convenience store on the way here sits beside you, still chilled, and the sun is beginning to rise quite high in the sky, its rays becoming rather toasty. you’d long shed yourself of your sweater, now acting as a pillow to lie back on to look up at the sky. it’s a lovely day today, hardly a cloud overhead, the breeze soft and with a slight bite. “I packed the paper cups, right?” “I wouldn’t know.” as per usual, zayne never misses a chance to poke playfully at you with those toneless words of his. “you’re the one who forced me out of my car today just as I was entering the hospital. you practically kidnapped me.”

“you can file a report once you get back to your apartment, then,” you shoot back promptly, biting back a grin. “can’t blame you if you did—you look positively distressed right now. you’re just itching to head back and work yourself to death, aren’t you?”

zayne finishes peeling the apple and pulls out the small wooden cutting board you’d also packed for this very reason. he picks up a small knife and slices the apple into six pieces. “maybe I should file for a restraining order. that way, I’ll finally be able to work in peace, hm?”

“you’ll be able to die from overwork in peace, too, and then this world would have lost its best cardiac surgeon.” you reach for a piece of apple and munch on it, peering teasingly up at the man before you through your lashes. “and I’d have lost the love of my life. don’t you think that’s such an unfair trade?”

you catch the flicker of a wince—well, more like a cringe—flash across zayne’s face before it’s stone again. your grin widens at his brief reaction. he side-eyes you, fully aware of just what you’re up to. “for once, you’ve actually said something that makes sense. keep on eating that apple, there, [name]. an apple a day will keep you away.”

you smack his arm at his words, hand meeting solid muscle through his clothes, and he barely flinches. it’s not like you’d ever slap him very hard, anyway. “you’re an idiot. and you’re a cardiac surgeon. what’s me eating an apple going to do to keep me away from your services?”

his eyes narrow at your wording. “the saying, for your information, is actually true—eating apples in fact decreases the chances of heart disease. it also lowers your risk of high blood pressure. I’ll give you a bouquet of apples next time.”

“you seem to be in no rush to get away from nor get back to your office.” you pointedly avoid the slices of apple on his lap and reach over for the tiramisu and spoon you’d sneaked into the basket while he wasn’t looking. zayne eyes it—not with hunger, but with poorly hidden distaste. his expression doesn’t go unnoticed. “oh, zayne—it’s not like I have these kinds of desserts everyday. rid your mind of work and relax a little, alright? I’m young, and I’m not going to collapse from a heart attack from one bite.”

“the bad habits you’re forming now will accumulate up and will eventually transpire in your old age—”

you answer by shoving the spoonful of tiramisu into his mouth, cutting him off. zayne’s eyes widen, and he coughs a little when he unintentionally inhales the cocoa powder dusted atop the dessert in surprise. you choke back your laughter. “it’s nice, huh? want some more?” zayne shoots you a look that has you torn between excitement and intimidation. he slowly lifts a hand to wrap around yours that holds the spoon in his mouth. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the dessert and takes the utensil from his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick up what’s left of the cream at the corner of his mouth. it may seem like a perfectly normal action, but it’s making your imagination run wild. the bastard knows what he’s doing, but he still arches a ‘clueless’ eyebrow, eyes glinting with amusement. “what’s got you so silent now?” “ahem!” you quickly retreat, stabbing the spoon back into the tiramisu, taking a bite yourself, uncaring whether he also licked the spoon or not. indirect kiss, I guess? you cringe at your own thoughts. ew, don’t be weird. “anyways, moving on. there’s another container of this in there for you, if you want it.”

“no, thank you, I have a diet to keep to.”

you roll your eyes, pointing your spoon at him. “boy, you have a bigger sweet tooth than me. do you think I don’t see all those chocolates you sneak? I’m amazed you don’t have a head full of rotten teeth.”

“I just wish to keep my current body shape and weight.” zayne unclips the lid of a plastic container full of neatly sliced fruit, something he probably packed himself. he glances up at you without moving his head, through his long lashes. “a body shape you enjoy a little too much.”

you blush. “wh-whatever! there’s no harm in indulging yourself from time to time, you know?”

“like how you adore indulging yourself in me all the time?” “okay! I get it! I get your point.” your face is about to explode into flames. you go back to stabbing at your tiramisu, bested and smarting. you shift on the mat to sit with your legs at your side, leaning against the trunk of the tree beside you both, muttering to yourself, “it’s not as if you don’t like it either…”

“what was that?” he’d heard you loud and clear, but he enjoys watching you flush and squirm.

“nothing! nothing at all.” it’s like you’re a teenager again, innocent and oblivious and very prone to blushing. whenever zayne dresses and talks and looks at you like that, you feel like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time.

flustered silence from you and smug quietude from zayne is all that reigns for a few moments, the man watching the park’s distant bubbling fountain absently, popping a grape into his mouth occasionally. you two had picked a rather secluded space—far away from the sound of traffic and squealing children and frollicking dogs, underneath the shade of a tree, the area quiet and private. also, his sharp, handsome features are now rather well-known to the populace after that article on him being the top cardiac surgeon at asko hospital and in the world went viral. you found all the teenage girls going crazy over him in the comments rather amusing. now, you’re unfailing in teasing him about his fanclub whenever you get the chance. too bad zayne just doesn’t care. he hardly ever reacts to your jests.

your embarrassment eventually fades and soon you’re looking for something else to annoy him with. however, zayne seems to have sensed your plotting as he turns his head towards you, chin propped in his hand as his elbow leans against the side of his knee. “whatever you’re up to this time, I wouldn’t bother.”

you sniff indignantly, playing innocent. “you’re paranoid. I just wanted some grapes.”

he obliges, handing the container to you. “did you find the paper cups?”

“no. I think I forgot them.” you make to rummage through the picnic basket again. “there’s a can of sparkling water in here, if you want it.” you hold it up, reading the label. “lime-flavoured. I thought I got berry.”

“it’s alright.” zayne’s quiet voice holds no inflection of annoyance—or anything, really. as usual. “is it still cold?” condensation rolls down the can’s side, but it has heated to room temperature. “no. a shame. would you like it?” “here.” he holds out his hand for it, and you promptly comply. but instead of cracking it open, the ice-blue glow of his evol envelops the can. soon, he’s handing it back to you. “there you go. you look thirsty.”

“uh, thanks.” surprised, you listen and stare at the hiss and bubble of the sparkling water reacting to you opening the can. “are you sure you don’t want any? there’s another can in there, if you’d like it.”

zayne smiles at you. the rare sight always strips you of your breath. “that’s alright. here, eat the rest of this apple.” he places the small chopping board with the slices of apple on it upon your lap. he leans back and places his cheek upon his fist, watching you fondly. “it’s good for you.”

you throw one more smart comment his way. “if anyone’s giving me a heart attack here, it’s you, doc.”

it’s funny how he’s changed his tone now. “that means you get to keep seeing me.”

“aren’t you the one adamantly against heart problems?”

“not when it involves you sticking around.”

you grin. “so you won’t file for a restraining order?”

zayne chuckles. “I’ll drop off a basket of apples in front of your apartment every week instead.”

“and keep a bowl in your office?”

“and keep a bowl in my office.”

wow. I didn't expect my headcanons drabble to blow up bro. tyasm for your support 😭🙏

masterlist

#⌗ ༘ ⋆｡𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐒❜ works !#ᝰ dividers by @/hitobaby !#the banner up top w zayne in it is made by me!! please do not use with or without credit <3 #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne love and deepspace x reader #zayne love and deepspace #zayne #love and deepspace imagines #love and deepspace drabbles #oracleofstars

321 notes · View notes

thepersonnamedsam · 1 year

Text

mornings spent well - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader (basically gn, just one mention as bride)

summary: You woke up in a bed, where the sheets felt like a bad night out with your friends. And that’s exactly what happened the night before.

pt. 2 / pt. 3

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none, maybe a bit angst, generally fluff, google translated french

note: it’s weird writing about existing people, so just ignore the awkwardness plus it’s not proofread

masterlist / taglist

Your head was spinning, and you felt like you would throw up any second if you moved your body more. You closed your eyes in hopes the world would stop spinning. Breath in, breathe out. You tried to remember what happened last night, but all that came to your mind, or more your mouth, was that awful taste of tequila.

You didn’t like tequila, its taste is weird, you don’t understand the salt and lime thing and it makes you do questionable choices. Like waking up in someone’s bed. That’s exactly what happened, because those sheets weren’t itching like crazy, and they actually felt cozy.

You lifted those cozy sheets to discover nothing. You weren’t naked, you were wearing shirt and underpants? And your socks are still on? Who undressed you last night and they were too polite to actually undress you? Not that you complained, you’d rather wear this than nothing.

With a sigh you wanted to get up without puking. But the moment you were ready to take the first step of sitting up the door opened.

You looked to your left and there was an empty bedside. The covers were pulled back and you saw the crease in the pillow, obviously from someone sleeping on it. You still weren’t sure where you were. This wasn’t the bedroom of your best friend nor was it of someone you knew and had been at their home.

The person standing in the doorway watched your every move, from looking at the bedside to wandering your gaze over the bedroom and finally landing on him. He saw you looking at him and locking eyes. A familiar feeling overtook both of your bodies, and you just couldn’t place what that feeling was.

The handsome man was still looking at you and you couldn’t lift your gaze from him as well. His hand reached his neck where he scratched it. As he took his hand back down you saw it, a silver wedding band. You slept in a married mans bed?! You lifted both your hands to your face to rub your eyes and that’s when your silver wedding band sprung in your eyes.

You had a wedding band? And the same one as the man standing in the doorway?

He cleared his throat and you looked at him. “This is awkward”, he said as he was scratching his neck once again, this time with his right hand. You cleared your throat too, nut trusting your voice after too much tequila from last night.

“Qu’est-ce qu’on va faire, merde. What are we gonna do, shit.” So, he spoke French. But you still didn’t know his name. “I guess, I mean looking at the evidence on our hands, I guess we are married?” Your voice went quieter the more you spoke. You were still hoping it wasn’t true or a dream, but his answer let those hopes disappear in a second.

“Oui, I guess we are married. You woke up in my bed and we both have a ring on our ring finger, that counts as something right?”

You let your body hit the mattress. Your head still hurting, not spinning as much, but still hurting like a bitch. And it made processing the new information very hard. “Okay, so let me get it straight; we don’t know each other, but we got married last night?” Your questionable look made him scoff.

“I know you, what are you talking about?” Now it was you who was scoffing. What did he mean by ‘I know you’? You were thinking hard, where could you have seen this man before. “Charles, Charles Leclerc, we met last week in that coffee shop where you work, and you gave me your number on the coffee cup? Do you recall?”

It hit you like a brick, of course you remember! You couldn’t believe you forgot that gorgeous face. You gave him your number, but he never texted you.

“You never texted me”, you stated. His face twisted into an apologetic look. “I texted you last night?” He was shrugging and you could see his whole upper body tense under the action. This man was built like a Greek statue. “I was in this club with my friends, and I was feeling lonely, that’s when I remembered I had put your number into my phone, so I texted you.”

“And what happened next?”, you had to ask, how did they go form texting to marrying? “You showed up and we took some tequila shots and that’s all I can remember.” His face said it all, the look of confusion and sorrowness. He didn’t know how they got from shots to this.

This was a disaster. All of this is not how you like to spend your mornings. And he didn’t like it that much as well.

He lifted his body from the doorframe and started to walk towards you. He was just a breathtaking view. “Au moins j’ai épousé une belle mariée. At least I married a beautiful bride.”

He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing on this planet. And he thought you were, he thought it the moment he saw you behind the coffee machine. He was so glad he discovered your number on his cup, because he was too afraid to ask for it. Though he was confident in most of his tasks, especially girls, he just couldn’t seem to find his confidence when he first looked at you.

He has no clue how he ended up marrying you a week later. He asked himself where the hell you two could’ve gotten married. You were in Monaco and not Las Vegas. Did you just go to the registry office and asked to be married? You were drunk as hell; how would any civil servant legally marry you? Were you even legally married? You were just wearing rings, that doesn’t mean you two actually got married.

His body hit the bed as he sat down, and you felt the mattress dip down on his side. And as he took his phone form the bedside table you admired his back. His muscles flexing under his every move. Fascinated by his back you didn’t notice how he had sighed multiple times after another.

“We are legally married; I just found the certificate in my emails.” His head now turned to look at you. His eyes staring into yours. Realization hit, you were no longer single and are actually married to this man in front of you. You blinked, once, twice, a hundred times maybe, you didn’t know.

You couldn’t believe it, you were married. “Do you think we should like, get a divorce?”, your voice was shy, you didn’t want to insult him. You didn’t want him to feel like you wouldn’t be married to him. Because you would.

Would you not have married him if you weren't drunk? Because he would have. He would marry you again in heartbeat. “If you want to, we have to be married for at least 12 months until we can get a divorce. I say we at least try to live a life as a married couple?” He looked at you with hopeful eyes. And you couldn’t say no to those eyes, it would be cruel.

“12 months? How do you know that?” - “ I just googled it”, he shrugged his shoulders again. “I guess we could try, I don’t think I would mind it”, your voice once more shy, not sure if he heard what you just said. His eyes lit up; “Really? You would try?” You smiled at him and just nodded your head.

“Can I kiss you?”, he asked with hopeful eyes. You nodded again and before you even closed your eyes, his body was turned towards you and his lips on yours. His lips as soft as a cloud and the kiss so sweet like sugar. You couldn’t believe it, kissing you husband, what a weird sentence going through your brain.

“I guess I have to put your new name into my contacts”, you laugh at him as he removed his lips from yours. He smiled and said: “And what would that be?” As you typed in his new contact name he tried to sneak a glance but he didn’t succeed. Husband was now gracing the top of they're messenger chat.

He smiled as soon as he saw it. And he couldn’t stop smiling. He was smiling like a little boy who just got ice cream. His face even started hurting a bit after smiling so much. He was sure he’d have muscle ache the next day. But you were smiling too. He was making you happy and you didn’t know how or why. He just did and you were content with that. You didn’t question why your heart fluttered every time you looked at him or how he made you smile with just a short glance. Everything just felt normal and right, like it had been that way for ages.

°°°

next part

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles lecrelc #f1 #genderneutral #charles leclerc x you #imagine #wedding #accidental #angst #fluf #x reader #f1 smut #ferrari

751 notes · View notes

sweetandscarlet · 9 months

Text

sub rosa - pt 1

warnings: handmaiden!reader, queen!wanda, slight jealously, wanda being an overprotective mommy, mention of beheadings. smut coming soon !

words: 1.8k

an: hi all! i haven't written or posted any work in so long so i'm breaking this one shot up into 2 parts just to play the field a little and see how well it receives. - saph xo

as you walked through the castle halls your hands fidgeted slightly behind you as they rested against the small of your back, your eyes stayed trained on red locks that swayed gently in front of you and every so often they'd flicker to the tall man who walked alongside the woman you worked for.

you tried not to pay attention to their conversation, instead, you focused on the details that lay before you. the walls that were decorated in gold, the maximoff family crest that had been sewn onto red banners that hung gloriously, and the gentle breeze blowing through the golden tassels that were attached at the bottom.

you distracted yourself with anything you could see, letting your mind focus on the elements of your adopted home instead of letting jealous thoughts eat away at you as a rabid dog would to a rabbit.

"i suppose that's all for now, ser jarvis. will you be attending the celebration tonight? it wouldn't be a true carnival without the commanding officer there to toast with me"

your head turned towards the redhead, your feet coming to an instant halt as you awaited the goodbye you had been patiently anticipating for the last hour.

"of course, your majesty" the tall man nodded with a smile, his left hand never faltering from the handle of his sword. "i can imagine my men will drink the castle dry after the battle we endured"

the redhead smiled back in response before turning away, the heels of her shoes clicking with every confident step she took as she continued her walk through the halls. you scrambled behind her, your feet hurrying to catch up with her pace.

as you eventually returned to the redhead's side, you cleared your throat before speaking. "wanda, i'm not a knight by any means but.. are you sure this battle is won? starks men grow fewer every day but he still has thousands left remaining, he could-"

wanda's head whipped to where you stood, an eyebrow quirking slightly as green eyes bore into you. "what have i told you about calling me that outside of my chambers? if anyone hears you addressing me as anything other than 'your majesty' then they'll be bright enough to assume the queen is spineless by letting her handmaiden speak to her that way"

your eyes widened slightly, your hands once again fidgeting behind you as you realise your mistake. "i- i'm sorry, your majesty. it won't happen again, i promise"

a smile itched at wanda's lips as she scanned the delicate features of your face, warmth swirling deeply in her chest as she gazed upon you. "good girl, now follow me.. i have some more business to attend to and your presence is the only thing right now that's keeping me sane"

an airy chuckle escapes your lips and you nod your head in response. your fingers twitch as the urge to run your hand down the length of wanda's arm inches its way into your mind but as always, you know better than that. so instead you busy yourself with the material of your dress, allowing the fabric to course through delicate fingers and ease the desire to touch the woman before you.

ᗢ

"your majesty, if i may.." all heads that are gathered around the table at the small council meeting turn towards yelena, a savvy blonde woman with a thick russian accent who sits to the left of the queen. with her striking nobility and tranquillity, you have never doubted the famously significant role 'knight of house maximoff' being handed to the blonde. apart from you, yelena is the only other person in the walls of her kingdom that wanda trusts wholeheartedly.

as all eyes focus on yelena, you watch as wanda gently nods toward her, granting her permission to speak freely.

"i've conversed with my sister up north and she feels it important to continue your alliance with the house of harkness. with the numeral amount of men pledged by her side and her domain over wheat and rice, we'd solely benefit during this war and the harsh winter that threatens our people and this land"

wanda hums at the thought and you can see the gears turning in her mind. "alright, you make a great point yelena, thank you. could you send a raven and tell her-"

"your majesty.. wait, do you think it to be wise to have your handmaiden involved in our small council meetings? for all we know she could be travelling to stark and disclosing all of the delicate information that we share in this very room"

your eyes widen as they shoot toward a voice on your far right, one that belongs to a tall, well-built man named steve, wanda's master of the coin. his narrow gaze never falters on you, causing you to avert your eyes back to wanda. you swallow a lump of humiliation, mentally willing away the tears that threaten to spill at any given moment.

wanda clears her throat, placing her hands on the large oak table situated in front of her before rising from her seat. the chair scrapes against the floor and all heads quickly turn back to the queen, seemingly copying her action until all members of the council are stood, including steve.

"no no, everyone remain in your seats.." the sound of wood scraping the floor returns once again as they obey the command. "apart from you steve, stay on your feet"

the arrogant expression stutters on the tall man's face, his features altering to a more concerned state.

"everyone, please let steve be an example to all of you as to why you shouldn't voice your apprehensions towards me unless i grant it. y/n.." wanda motions a hand to you, her hard expression faltering for a split second when her eyes fall upon you before it quickly reverts back to a stern gaze. "has been my handmaiden for quite some time now and she is someone whom i trust greatly. anyone who has hardship with her, has hardship with me, your queen. so i suggest you all choose your words carefully in future, or i'm afraid heads will roll"

you turn your attention back to steve who now stands frigid and skittish, his eyes bulging out of his sockets at the mere threat. it's a sight that almost makes you laugh but you swallow the motion down and remain collected.

"do i make myself clear?" wanda spits, the flat of her palms moving from the wood to bunch into fists, her knuckles turning white at the pressure.

a collective of "yes, your majesty" quickly sings out into the room.

wanda smiles at that before returning to the comfort of her seat. "steve, you can sit now. if we've all finished voicing our useless opinions, let's get back to what's important shall we?"

ᗢ

heels clicked furiously in front of you as you struggle to keep up with such an intense pace. it was evident that wanda was still rattled by steve's comment regarding you, and you couldn't help but feel warmth and the familiar sensation of butterflies swirling around in your chest at the rage and protectiveness she was struggling to maintain.

"your majesty.." you gasped out, your feet practically dragging across the floor as you failed to match wanda's speed. "please, slow down. i don't care for what happened, steve he-"

"i care!" wanda bellowed, her voice practically roaring with fury as she whipped her head around to face you. your feet came to a quick halt, your body only stopping a few inches away from the redhead. "and so should you, he has no right to be speaking of you in that manner, you're just as important as him, if not more"

your eyes darted around, worry growing quickly as the realisation hit that you still were yet to reach the queen's chambers and that anybody could overhear this conversation. "my love, please.. someone could hear us" you uttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

wanda sighed, her chest heaving greatly as the weight of your words set in. she quickly scanned the halls and when she was sure it was void of people, she grasped your hand in hers and tugged you down the hallway to your left and toward her chambers.

when you and wanda eventually reach the entrance to her room she pushes open the heavy door with her free hand before promptly ushering you inside, she nudges it closed and then turns the large silver key until she hears a loud click, indicating it is locked and you were both safe to speak freely.

"i apologise for my outburst," wanda starts as she turns her body to face you, her features now softened and movements gentle as she steps toward you. "but i won't apologise for protecting you and your feelings. i care about you too much to let some narrow-minded prick think he can convey his opinions regarding who sits in on my small council meetings"

you emulate wanda's actions and step forward, seemingly closing the gap between you until you can feel the redhead's hot breath hit the cool skin of your nose. wanda's eyes stay trained on yours and it takes everything in you not to nervously avert your gaze. raising your hands slightly you cusp one of wanda's, your thumb stroking delicately on her soft skin.

"thank you, wanda, it means more than you know to hear that" your voice is gentle as you speak, something wanda admires greatly. the way words ostensibly sound as sweet as honey while they roll off of your tongue with complete unrestraint. "and i must admit, watching you defend my honour like that.. it evokes something in me that i can't explain"

wanda quirks an eyebrow at that, the corner of her lips upturning in a slight smirk. "oh? care to elaborate, darling?"

the knots in your stomach tighten slightly as wanda wiggles her hand out of your soft grasp and snakes her arms around the small of your back, pulling your bodies flush together.

the way her voice drops slightly and her tone swiftly switches to a teasing one never fails to elite a fire within you.

"well, i-"

a knock at the chamber door echoes throughout the room and wanda groans in frustration at the sudden interference. green eyes disappear as her eyelids flutter closed, and you watch the queen inhale deeply before you're once again faced with her captivatingly piercing embers.

a small chuckle escapes your lips and you lean forward, placing a chaste kiss on her now flushed-rosy pink cheeks. "go on, your majesty. duty calls.. i'll be here waiting patiently for your return"

wanda entraps her bottom lip between pearly white teeth with a soft hum, her eyelids growing hooded at your use of her title. "god, words can’t express how much i love it when you call me that”

#wanda maximoff x reader #queen wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #mcu fanfiction #medevial

701 notes · View notes

d10nyx · 3 months

Text

meant to be yours

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, unwilling cannibalism - reciever doesn't know! self-mutilation. obsessive, creepy, delusional reader. no real sex but masturbation n fantasies. very little smut and also a lil vomit.

a/n: idk why, but i... could not get this out of my head. been writing this the past few hours n it's now 1am... all i'm gonna say is read at your own discretion

word count: 1.9k words

There wasn't much good in your life. Not really. You'd never been one to talk much. No family, no friends. You spent most of your life working, dropping out of school, and saving money from a young age in order to pursue your one true passion - baking.

Opening up your own shop was hard. You went hungry most nights in order to skim a little cash from your dead-end job to be able to afford the down payment. But it worked. You had your own bakery, and business was booming.

For once in your life, you felt happy.

The day Leon came into the bakery for the first time changed everything. A festering desire found its way into your mind, an itch that wouldn't leave. He was your soul mate, you knew it. He was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. So pure and untouched.

He made your skin crawl. You needed to be closer to him, to corrupt him in a way that no one would ever come close to you. You needed to be his, mind, body and soul. His smile made you nauseous. How many others had received that same smile?

No. You had to have him in a way no one else could.

You started experimenting. Simple things, really. Your love for him was all consuming, and you're sure in time he'd come to understand how much you worshipped him. He'd be appreciative of all you'd done for him once he found out.

It made it all worth it as you carved into your flesh for the first time. Your teeth clamped down on an old leather belt of yours to stiffle your screams, a piece of fabric tied tight around your thigh to slow the bleeding as you cut chunks of your flesh out.

The pain almost made you pass out, but you wouldn't let your weakness get in the way of showing devotion to Leon. You swallowed your bile as it rose up your throat, blinked past the blurriness of your tears.

You did your best to treat the wounds efficiently after. YouTube can only teach you so much, and your hands wouldn't stop shaking, so you couldn't wrap the bandage as tight as you should have. But that was okay. You couldn't go to the hospital, couldn't risk someone stopping your plan.

You swallowed some painkillers and went to bed, content with the knowledge that tomorrow was Saturday. That meant Leon would be coming. You had something really special for him.

You wake up with a hop in your step the next morning despite the excruciating pain you were in. You down more painkillers and pop the pack in your pocket, although it does little to dull your pain.

You grind the carefully harvested flesh down. You had already made the dough which had expanded nicely. This would have to be your best work, after all. You carefully lay out the necessary ingredients, combining them before placing the filling neatly into the dough.

You gather up the edges of the disc you'd made, folding them over the seasoned flesh and tucking them in to form a nice ball. You smile at yourself, feeling like you deserved a pat on the back. Once the egg wash is on, you place them into the oven and glance at the clock.

Perfect timing.

You smile and set up the rest of the bakery for opening. Once the buns are cooked, you take them out and place them in the back. You greet all the customers as friendly as always despite the burning in your thigh and the obsession making itself known in the forefront of your brain.

The closer it gets to Leon's usual entrance time, the more antsy you get. You can't keep still, shifting your weight between your feet as it becomes increasingly more difficult not to snap at every customer that walks in. They were all wasting your time.

Your eyes flick over to the clock on your wall constantly. The quiet ticking makes your eyes twitch and keeps your nerves on edge. You want to rip the clock from the wall and-

“Hey.” Your head snaps to the door. A smile makes its way to your face as you relax. Finally. You lean on the counter, your gaze trailing Leon's face appreciatively.

“Leon. Hi.” You breathe out, all the tension seeping out of your muscles. He makes all the pain you endured worth it, just to see his smile. “The usual?”

He nods softly, and you get to work packing his order. He likes to treat himself to a slice of cake and a pastry at the end of the week. It's the cutest thing ever to you, and you always like to throw in an extra little snack. On the house, of course.

“Hey, I tried something new today. Saved some for my favourite customer. Want to try it?” The festering in your mind returns tenfold. You didn't know what you'd do if he didn't accept. Your mind was screaming at you, wanting nothing more than to see him eat your flesh. To become one with you.

Please. Your mind supplies, your breathing growing shallow as you wait for his reply. The seconds feel like they stretch into hours, your nails digging into your palms and leaving little crescent shaped marks in the flesh.

“Sure! What did you make?” He asks, sweet as ever. The air you suck in after that satisfies your whole body, like the first breath of air after you'd been drowning. Your lungs stop burning, your mind stops screaming.

“I'm trying out some more savoury stuff. Trying to broaden my horizons, you know?” You say with a chuckle, stepping back to retrieve the tray. “I made some pork buns. Saved them just for you. They're all yours, if you like them.”

He lets out a laugh himself, eyes examining the food in front of him. “You're too good to me. These look amazing.”

Take one. Please. Just one.

“Ah, it's nothing.” You say causally, your eyes locked on his hands as they reach out for one of the buns. Your heart beats faster, feeling like it's about to break free past the cage of your ribs. “You're an officer. Just giving back.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” He says with an amused smile, finally picking up one of them.

Yesyesyesyes. Just a little longer.

It takes every ounce of willpower in you not to make a noise as he takes a bite. It's even harder to keep a neutral expression as he chews it, his eyes widening slightly. He swallows the bite, looks at you and grins. You lean forward, watching with morbid curiosity as his Adam's apple bobs, picturing the chunks of your flesh sliding down his throat.

“Wow! These are, like… really good. You should definitely start selling them.” He compliments, taking another bite. You watch him finish up the bun with increasing interest, your eyes practically sparkling with joy and your pussy throbbing with need.

“That's, um…” Your words come out shaky, so you clear your throat and try again. “Thank you. That means a lot. I'm really glad you liked it.”

“Did you need anything else today? Or is that all?” You ask politely, your hands idly brushing the edge of the counter - desperate for something, anything to ground you as you wait for his response. The anticipation was enough to drive you mad with desire, but you had to stay composed.

If only Leon could understand how much you truly wanted him. How much you needed him to see you, to really see you, not just look at you. What you'd do for him to touch you. Consume you. Become one with you.

“No, no. I think that's it.” He says with a head tilt, not looking unlike a puppy in that moment. You want to keep him in a little room, safe from the cruelty in the world. Maybe a cute little display case you dust off every day.

“Alright, no problem, then.” You say as you start to ring up his order, telling him the price and taking the money. “Let me just wrap these up, and you can be on your way.”

With practised ease, you quickly wrapped the ordered items in paper, making sure the wrapping is secure. Once done, you carefully place them into a brown paper bag, double checking everything was intact. Reaching out, you held it out towards Leon, a kind smile on your face as you tried to ignore the aggressive beating of your heart. Your hand shook slightly, yearning for contact. For just a tiny moment of skin on skin. "Here you go.”

“Thank you so much! I'll see you next week.” He tells you as he reaches for the bag, his fingers brushing yours lightly as he takes it, getting ready to leave the bakery.

"Have a wonderful day." You reply, your voice breaking slightly as you watch him walk away. Your eyes follow his form disappearing down the street until he was out of sight before you let out a ragged breath, collapsing against the counter. Today had been... too close. Too much contact. You needed to calm down.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your mind wanders for the rest of the day, thinking about how satisfying it would be when you were finally his. You'd get him to accept your gifts with open arms. How could he not love you when he'd realised how much you'd sacrificed for him?

You wanted him to dip his tongue in your wounds, to thank you properly for the pain you'd sustained for him. You'd worship every inch of his body, give everything you'd had to him.

Oh, how good it would feel when he sunk his cock into you for the first time. You'd be perfect for him, open up so easily for him. You'd take every inch without complaint, let him fuck you as often as he wanted.

Maybe he'd sink his teeth directly into your neck when he realised how much he craved your flesh. You'd make him crave another taste. The thought made you shiver, arousal pooling into the gusset of your panties, making the fabric stick to you.

You closed up early to return to your apartment. You find your bed instantly, flopping down and stripping within seconds. You shove two fingers deep into your cunt as you pictured Leon fucking you. The sloppy wet noises fill your room as your moans echo off the empty walls.

Your free hand shifts to the wound on your thigh, and you press down harshly. You scream in pain, nausea hitting you instantly at the agonising pain. It's enough to make you cum, your pussy gushing around your fingers. You lean over the edge of the bed, throwing up onto the hardwood floor. You'd deal with it later.

You curl up into a ball, breathing heavily through tears and mucus as the burning sensation worsens. You can barely breathe through the acrid scent assaulting your senses. It was all worth it. You'd tear every muscle fibre of your body apart to show your reverence to Leon. No one can love him like you can.

You wouldn't be content until he devoured you whole. Not until your souls became intertwined and you were sure you'd plague his thoughts like he had plagued yours. His teeth would sink deep into the flesh of your still beating heart, and only then would he understand the extent to which you adored him.

His innocent appearance meant nothing when he could ruin you so completely with one simple look. One touch. One smile.

He already had.

#dark content #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #seriously... don't read this!

169 notes · View notes

starrysvn · 6 months

Text

angel | park seonghwa

pairing: fem!reader x non idol!park seonghwa

genre: soulmate au

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of food, fluff

playlist: inception - ateez, francesca - hozier, unknown/nth - hozier

networks: @cromernet

author’s note: happiest birthday to my lovely star bai @hwaightme , i love you more than words can say <3 i hope today has been filled with nothing but happiness and laughter and love. thank you for being a precious friend and my partner in delulu. ilysm, sending the biggest warmest hugs <33333 please enjoy this delulu frankenstein

masterlist | navi

“Are you quite sure we should be doing this?”

The night was drawing to an end, and so was your wit. You could no longer stand to be in the suffocating ballroom, the amount of people spinning around was making you dizzy to the point of nausea. That was when he offered you a way out, seeing you struggle to maintain composure while sitting all alone.

“Absolutely not,” you heard the smirk in his voice while he led you out to the garden, sure you were following after him.

“How irresponsible of you to draw a young lady away to a dark secluded corner of a garden,” he laughed. “Should I be fearing for my life?”

When he stopped walking you almost ran into him, looking around to see you standing in the heart of the English Garden of the palace. During the night it was almost dreadful, as opposed to its beauty in the daytime, if it weren’t for the few scattered lights.

“Not at all,” he turned, but you couldn’t see his face. The thought confused you only for a second, for you knew this man. You trusted him with your life. He reached for your hand, holding it in his warmer one. “Not long, now.”

“Not long,” you whispered back, your surroundings slowly fading as he pressed his lips to yours.

Sometimes it was more than just a dream, you could feel it in your bones. It lingered during the day, the unshakable conviction that it was all true. That it had been true. It could not have been just your mind making up the ballroom dancing, whispered poems and a soft piano echoing during a sunny afternoon. So you wrote it all down in letters you kept under your bed. Most times the dreams had already escaped your memory, so all there was were jumbled thoughts scribbled quickly before even those could fade away. Other times, you woke up in the middle of the night, so convinced you were still there, still surrounded by warmth and love you never dared imagine could exist. Your hand blindly reached for the notebook you kept on your nightstand, chasing after the vivid imagery in your head.

The words you kept closer to your heart were the ones he whispered one night, you could hear vivid chatter from somewhere far away and the evening breeze making goosebumps erupt on your skin. But he was there, standing tall and faceless beside you, his hand guiding yours to his lips.

“Farewell, my angel,” he had whispered against your knuckles before you woke up.

In shades of dark and moonlight, you waited for the distinct feeling of the lingering feather-like kiss to vanish, both hoping it would and wishing it wouldn’t. Alone in your bed you hesitated to turn and reach for the notebook like you usually would; you had the feeling you could never forget the way his voice spoke the words that made every hair stand on ends.

And you never did, for each night you would be in his company in dreamland and, each night, he would call you his angel. He showed you a world of colors, of hushed whispers in the dark, a warm murmur by your ear as he enveloped you in his arms. It was all you ever wished to hear in the daylight rather than just inside your head.

It was another day waking up itching to know more, wanting to know if you were going insane or if this was the twisted way in which fate had decided to assign you your soulmate. All you had ever had were dreams that made no sense, yet gave you hope. Even when you did not know where to start, if to even dare at all.

There was little you could do, really, except live in a dream. Because even as you made your way down a busy street, en route to work, chopped away whatever you needed for lunch or dinner, every other thought was stuck on him. This illusion of a perfect man who faded as moonlight gave way to another day. Sometimes it felt so real that it was hard to discern from reality itself. The phantom brush of a hand, the faint memory of a scribbled note, of his contagious laughter. It was as if you could hear them, as if they refused to go and stay where they belonged.

But you couldn’t live in a dream, could you? You could hold out for however long it took, but you could not give up life in the meantime.

“I swear, just trust me!” Your colleague would not give up. The constant nagging had become almost unbearable, so much so that it made you want to give in. “One date and if it sucks, I’ll leave you alone forever, I pinky promise.”

The copier rapidly dished out the papers you needed to bring back to your desk, giving you the perfect excuse not to look up at San. You sighed, he had been on a mission to get you to go out with this guy for a while now. He swore up and down that you two were destined, but you usually were able to dissuade your colleague pretty fast. Not today, it seemed.

“Listen,” busying yourself counting the copies, you won another few short seconds before the time came to face San’s begging eyes. “Just one coffee?”

“Please, please, believe me you guys would be perfect togeth- hold up,” smile opening up on his lips, eyes shiny and wide, San almost did a double take. “Are you saying yes?”

Sighing again, you fiddled with the top corner of your papers - that you were now hugging to your chest - before nodding.

“One date,” you agreed, holding up your pointer finger right in front of his face. “And you have to stay near in case he’s weird and I need to escape.”

Proud of the conditions you laid down, you watched as San furiously nodded along, albeit a little offended that you’d think I’d set you up with some random weirdo. Thus, he ran back to his desk, murmuring about texting his friend. You let out one last sigh before returning to your station, too.

You hoped you’d made the right choice.

The first hints of autumn were making themselves known, a cooler breeze than usual surprising you as it caressed your face upon walking out the glass doors, the sun already on its way to set. You hid your face a little further into the scarf around your neck, walking out of your workplace beside San.

It had been a week since you gave into his pleading and he’d been very secretive about the infamous date. You were starting to worry. Maybe his friend had said no? Or was he planning something elaborate? Was he not saying anything because, really, this friend of his truly was just some weirdo?

You were pulled out of your thoughts by San himself, catching him wave and say something along the lines of there he is. He quickly found your elbow, gently hitting it with his, snapping you back to reality. You barely caught any detail of the man walking towards the two of you.

“Alright, that is the friend I was telling you about,” your head snapped into San’s direction, eyes wide as saucers. “Looks like you’re going on a date.”

Your friend was smiling his Cheshire grin, making you want to wipe it clean off his face.

“Choi San, this is an ambush!” You yelped, alarmed by his quiet giggling and eyebrow wiggling. “High treason even, could you not warn me at least-”

“Hi.”

Stood there, wrapped in a warm looking coat, was quite possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever seen. His smile was timid but friendly and his eyes were just as bright and warm, reflecting the lights from the lamppost. A few strands of wavy, chocolate hair fell delicately just above them.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys now, have fun!”

Oh, you were going to kill San.

“Hi,” you greeted, eyes leaving the retreating figure of your friend to focus back on the man in front of you.

“I’m Seonghwa, San’s friend,” he smiled again, melting your heart a little just by the sound of his voice. “It’s nice to meet you and I apologize for the suddenness of this all… it appears he didn’t need help with document boxes after all.”

“He sure didn’t,” you tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice, for it was San’s brilliant planning that landed you here, not his friend’s. So, you introduced yourself as well, suggesting to go to your favorite cafè just around the corner and trying to take the surprise blind date in stride.

“It’s the only place I could think of,” you said, almost apologetic as you sat down. Truth was, the little hole in the wall cafè was special to you. It housed memories of tranquil mornings where you got there early enough to sit down for a coffee before work, joyous lunches with friends to celebrate achievements, quiet afternoons spent in the company of your favorite books. Your feet had taken you here on auto-pilot.

“It’s lovely,” his smile could melt snow, you figured right then and there, after he’d looked around with curious eyes to the unique decor and shelves of literature, poems and papers.

Seonghwa was just as San had described him, after all. He made sure to open the door for you as you entered the cafè, he asked your order so he could go up to the register while you found a table you liked and even offered to pay. He was charming and a great listener, and he had managed to make you laugh until tears pooled in your eyes. It was so warm to be around him, easy to talk to as if you’d known him your whole life, almost as perfect as two puzzle pieces fitting together.

When it was time to leave you almost didn’t want to. You wanted to stay there with him and keep talking, keep sharing your interests and favorites, exist inside the cozy bubble that had formed around you two. So, with the promise of another date and Seonghwa insisting to at least walk you to the nearest bus stop, you went home.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, taking you by surprise when he dipped down to land a kiss on your cheek before you could get on the bus. It stayed with you, making you feel like a teenager all over again.

You went through the motions of preparing dinner and getting ready for bed as if floating on a cloud, barely believing you had it in you to feel so light. And if, while laying down on your bed with the lights off, you had felt so full of hope for something good, happiness and giddiness enough to make you giggle to yourself, then you woke up the following morning as empty as ever. A foreign hollow in your chest, that you had trouble identifying, was steadily painting everything gray, from the breakfast you made to the commute home. It was only then, sitting on the bus staring out to the traffic, that you realized you hadn’t dreamt of him that night. For the first night ever, you weren’t chasing after his fading figure.

Each night you went to bed hoping to hear his voice and see on which adventure sleep would take you. Then, each morning you woke up well rested and clear-headed: no more piecing together the fragments of dreams you couldn’t remember, no more trying hard to see the face of the man that made you feel loved. Months of empty nights went by until, with time, you even forgot to remember him unless you stumbled upon your notebook.

“You seem quiet today,” Seonghwa piped up, still browsing through the vinyls in front of him.

“I was just thinking,” you shrugged, making your way over to him and taking his hand in yours. His smile, soft and contagious, made your heart flutter. Still focused on his search, now led with one hand only, he intertwined your fingers. It was at times like these, when he would kiss the back of your hand, that you wondered.

“About what?”

Finally, he looked at you, eyes bright and welcoming and saying what his words hid: you can tell me anything. You just shook your head, smiling back at him, shrugging as if the wandering thought didn’t lie heavy on your head whenever it knocked on the doors of your consciousness.

“Alright, then, I have a surprise for you,” he pulled you away from the vinyl stand, almost as giddy as you felt, and into the busier paths of the market. Under string lights that festively shone, between the other passersby, it was easy to feel like you were the only two people in the world. That’s how Seonghwa made you feel; in his presence, living life was easier. If he was holding your hand, you were sure you could face any hurdles that may come. It was a feeling so real that you could almost taste it in his sweet kisses, his loving embrace, and no longer only dream of.

As he dragged you - arm lazily thrown on your shoulders or hand on the small of your back if too many people forced you two to walk in line - remnant, persisting memories almost made you dizzy with deja vu. His hand squeezing yours to make sure you were still following, to tell you he was still there, his voice pointing out whatever caught his attention as you passed by, the wintry breeze and the cacophony of voices, laughs, faraway music surrounding you.

“Here we are,” you almost bumped into his back when he stopped and stood facing the cafè that held the memory of your first date.

“It’s closed,” you pointed out, hearing his chuckle shortly after.

“Good thing I’ve got the keys,” he jingled them in the space between the two of you, a proud smile on his lips. You cocked your head to the side, brows furrowed.

“You’ll see.”

Seonghwa made quick work of opening up and leading you in, turning on the softer lights, leaving the sign on “closed”. As if on autopilot, you wandered around the room to the one table that had caught your eye. On it, laid few of your favorite pastries and pictures of you together, a colorful bouquet in the middle.

“Seonghwa… what’s all this?”

“Happy birthday,” his arms embraced you, bringing you to rest your back against his chest, holding you close. Speechless, you turned around in his hold, ready to speak but the words wouldn’t come. “I know you said you were working and were probably going to go home and do something on the weekend, but I didn’t want to just text you happy birthday and go about my day. Today is your day and you’re very special to me and I wanted to do something to wish you-”

You kissed him - interrupting his rambling and pulling him closer - gently like his arms were around your waist, warm like your cheeks and slow as if you had all the time in the world.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, hands still playing with soft strands of his hair. “You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to,” he pecked your lips once again before sliding away from you and pulling out the chair for you to sit. As he did, another confused memory swirled in your head. You pushed it away. Sitting in front of you, Seonghwa asked about your day and let you ramble on and on, so you asked about his, too. He left his hand out on the table for you to hold, so you did, not missing the way he quickly hid a smile after you intertwined your fingers. Whenever he was close to you, Seonghwa wondered if you could tell how furiously his heart was beating in his chest; be it by brushing your finger against his pulse or resting your head against it.

When he deemed dinner over, he pulled out of its box a little cake and stuck a candle right in the middle of it for you to blow out - only after he’d sang happy birthday to you. Seonghwa found the way you covered your blushing cheeks with your hands the most adorable thing you could ever do. He seemed antsy, itching even, to give you your present, though. So you pushed the platter with your slice of cake aside.

“You could’ve finished,” he pouted, making you laugh over the rustling of a paper bag.

“You looked like you were about to explode, Hwa,” you accepted his present, wrapped pristine and precise, insisting that he didn’t have to. He kept on saying he wanted to (and also, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?).

A smile so bright it rivaled the sun opened up on your lips, seeing the art cover of your favorite artist’s album peeking from the torn wrapping paper.

“Is this why you were hogging the stand earlier?” You beamed at him, who sat with wide eyes hanging by your every word. You could tell his leg was bouncing.

“I couldn’t have you buy it when I got it for you,” he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his you’d noticed, with a sheepish smile. You stood and, on the way to the record player of the shop, you kissed his cheek, murmuring a soft thank you. It was a look you wished to forever have engraved in your mind, the one he gave you when you offered him your hand to take, asking if you could have this dance.

Seonghwa stood as if in a trance, nodding his head, only for you to guide him where less tables were. He pulled you close once again, slowly swaying to the beat of his fluttering heart or the music, he wasn’t sure. Time and time again he’d asked himself, in his time with you, how could he have been so lucky to meet you. To somehow hold your attention for long enough to make you see him, care for him. For you to want him to be this close to you. He hoped you’d allow him to be forever.

He twirled you around and waited for you to land back in his arms, feeling as dizzy as he often was when you found yourself there.

“Thank you,” you whispered, cheek resting against his chest.

“Please, don’t thank me, my angel,” he whispered back, freezing time.

The first time he’d called you angel, your heart had leapt from you. And yet, it wasn’t then and there, but back in your dreams. You didn’t know whether you were breathing still, all you knew was that when you looked up, Seonghwa was already searching for your eyes.

“Say that again,” your voice was barely above a whisper, just as fragile as a piece of glass.

“My angel,” his was too, broken by emotion and you had a feeling you knew just why. Seonghwa’s hands came to cup your cheeks, eyes drinking you in as if it were the first time. Perhaps it was, because you were looking at him like you finally found who you had been looking for. Like you could finally see the face that had populated your dreams.

“It’s you,” it sounded crazy, absolutely mad to say something like that, but when he nodded back with unshed tears in his eyes, you knew. Seonghwa’s arms were quick to hug you to him once more, holding close like he never had before. Both your figures were shaken by sobs, but your hearts were being mended. Behind your eyelids, scenes of you through time played; all your dreams finally making sense as memories of past lives spent together, consumed by a love so fierce that it found you in every life.

“I can’t believe I found you again,” Seonghwa whispered as your sobs died down. He was still holding you, in the middle of the cafè while the music played, as if he were afraid you’d vanish.

“I can,” you sniffled. “I dreamed of you for so long, I should’ve known…”

“I thought I was going out of my mind,” his watery laugh pulled a chuckle out of you. “I longed for the day I’d see you again.”The record had gone quieter, maybe because there was only so little you could focus on when you finally were in the arms of your soulmate. There was no need for words, not now. Not when you could feel the love pouring out of your fingertips. Not when Seonghwa was placing kisses on the tears running down your cheeks, your temples, your forehead, your lips. Not when his whispered my angel made up for the time you’d spent apart. All this running around in circles every night, chasing after figments of what you thought could only be your imagination had finally brought him to you. You both laughed at destiny for making you dream for so long, secure in the newfound conviction that you’d be together no matter where it brought you.

#cromernet #park seonghwa #park seonghwa fluff #ateez park seonghwa #park seonghwa au #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa imagines #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa imagine #ateez seonghwa fluff #park seonghwa ateez #ateez seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez fluff

166 notes · View notes

sunsents · 1 year

Text

neteyam sully hcs - how he teases you (M)

headcannons about Neteyam teasing little shit sully. I've been craving to write this because I just KNOW he's so annoying and smug when he wants to be.

➵ pairing: agedup!neteyam x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

➵ warnings: this gets spicy towards the end so be warned. also, neteyams annoying asf, so be warned again.

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

Neteyam has a knack for romantics. He's seen plenty of his parents' very public displays of affection that make the entire herd say "eewwww". At the ripe age of 37, Jake constantly pines over his wife and Neytiri is no better.

The fact that the married couple has enough kids to form a goddamn baseball team is enough proof on its own. (And yes, Jake is painfully aware of this fact and is itching to introduce the sport to the poor na'vi children.)

Neteyam also has a way with words. In fact, he's so good with them that he can wax poetic about your bowel movements and you'd swoon nonetheless.

"Neteyam, are you drunk?" you'd ask after a particularly rowdy festival.

"No, I'm a poet." he'd tell you, drunk off his ass.

Cue the guy saying whatever comes to mind and trying to make it sound beautiful. "Oh, ____, Why, _____. Every move of your unaware knife stabs my heart. Your hands drip rewards of the sweetest juices a man dare crave." when you’re literally trying to cut fruit, or some shit like this. (idk im no poet use your imagination.)

Worst of all, it works. This man is mighty aware of how embarrassed and shy you get when he intricately weaves words just so he can see you blush and swat at him. He takes pleasure in your angry little tone in some weird, fucked up way.

Which ends up with him developing a little...kink, if you will. He loves teasing. And in a condescending way too.

He used to consider himself good-natured - didn't take pleasure in the humiliation of others, surely. His parents' relationship should have taught him well. And it did...but he just can't stop teasing you.

Perhaps it was your strangled voice telling him to cut it out, or the tint of your cheeks complimenting you oh so delightfully. He adored your reactions and coaxing them out was such fun.

With this devilish smirk that could fluster anyone, (or so you'd tell yourself because you aren't weak...okay, maybe you are. but only for him.) he tells you how red you've become. He'd scissor his hands and squeeze your cheek between the two digits, "You're just so easy to mess with, my love."

This led to his teasing gaining an edge. And as he grew confident, he also got mean. His teases degraded you here and there but he was just so condescending; talking down at you as the prince of Omaticaya. Stuff like. “Oh, yawnetu. You’re always falling at my feet. Should I hold your hand?” when you trip and fall (because he made you trip and fall by looking extra good that day, and also ‘forgetting’ to put on pants. in your kelku, of course. or outside in the forest if you’re into that, you weirdo.)

“Look at you, getting that fruit all over your mouth. Can’t even eat properly without my help.” when you eat particularly messily.

“It’s cute that you think you can win these fights.” when you try to snap back.

When he takes things particularly far, you get angry. Because damn, he's just so annoying sometimes. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine the Olo’eyktan in training to be so smug and condescending. At first, he was all gentlemanly and teeth-rotting sweet. He’d encourage you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear, and be so freaking kind that it’d make you want to cry.

When your mate got too comfortable, however, things went down. "Can you pass me the f-

"Only if you kiss me,"

"At what point do you become mature?"

"When you kiss me,"

"God, I hate you."

"Your pussy wasn't exactly screaming I hate you Neteyam this morning, but maybe that's just me."

He’s still sweet, of course. This man has no bad bone in his body, it’s true. He loves you so much that he can’t help but poke fun at your antics, and makes sure you know it’s all fun and games. When it’s fun and game time though, he’s ruthless.

And he's so proud of himself too. Puffing out his chest smugly and prancing around, boasting his confidence. You just want to wipe that sly smirk off his face - but you can't. It falls on deaf ears when Neteyam jokingly personalizes a better-than-thou attitude

"Oh, do I annoy you?” he would ask you after watching you groan and roll your eyes. “Not more than usual,” you would tell him, and he would just smirk, striding towards you and pulling you into a fat kiss.

Of course, these shenanigans follow him into the bedroom.

Lo'ak is evidently more like Jake when it comes to teasing. But Neteyam? Eywa have mercy on your poor soul. He's a mix of Neytiri, Jake, and perhaps Tsu'tey combined. (he's alive, argue with the wall.) The epitome of pure sex and the reincarnation of Asmodeus himself.

His tone is sweet yet condescending, smoothly purring into your ear while making fun of how easy it was to make your cunt ache with needy desire.

He would demand you finger yourself right in front of his prying eyes, then coo at you when you couldn't cum no matter how hard you tried. It was pathetic really, how diligently your fingers worked on your poor clit. But to no avail.

Neteyam would feast on the view like it was his meal for the week. With blown-out eyes and feral flicks of his tail, he would tease you all the while. Stuff like, "Let's see those fingers work harder. Oh come on, now you're just messing with me. There's no way you think that's what it takes to make you cum.

"I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.”

“Well, you should be concentrating on me instead,…maybe learn a few things.” he drawls, circling the head of his cock with a groan while imagining he’s rubbing your swollen clit.

And you'd try your best to remember how he made you cum. But no matter what, you just couldn't copy the way Neteyam spit on your clit to ease the ache or the way he strokes the nerves so gently with a finger. Only the clit, of course - because he's going to tease you, and teasing you involves edging the shit out of you until your eyes water and you can't help but beg.

The fact that you’re so accustomed to his fingers and cock was a little embarrassing. They had become proviso for you to cum.

"You can't make yourself cum? How pathetic. Did I fuck you too good that it made you incompetent, or do you just like me too much?"

Neteyam always basks in his torture. He'd watch your hips buck wildly while begging and crying for him to fuck you right. He'd just sit there with wide legs, palming his hard cock and squeezing his balls ever so slightly at your pained mewls. Arms spread, head thrown back, he'd just observe you with additional snarky comments if he felt like it.

"Come on, you can do it. Oh, you got it, yes, there we g-...oh. What a pity."

#neteyam fic #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam #avatar twow #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar au #neteyam headcanons

442 notes · View notes

cloudninetonine · 9 months

Text

A Player's Aid: Chapter 13

Fandom: Legend of Zelda, Linked Universe

A/N: I'D LIKE TO THANK EVERYONE WHO GAVE ME MORAL SUPPORT ON OUR GROUP CALL AND A SPECIAL THANKS TO MY EDITORS, FANGS AND SHY, ALSO FOR LISTENING TO ME REREAD IT ALL Y'ALL GREAT

Warnings: Bad language, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, threatening language, descriptions of sick/vomit/throw up, disturbing imagery descriptions and descriptions of panic/anxiety attack, also slight implications of suicidal tendencies

The weight of the world felt heavy on your shoulders in this castle of darkness and silence. Your body weak, shaking under the pressure of any regret that ever did cross your mind as you sat there, curled into the tightest ball with a tear soaked face and fear blanketing your eyes.

It was true, what they said. Near death, your life would flash before your very eyes, letting you relive every last waking moment in a solemn look that only grew more agonising by the second. Your mother? Stranded. Alone. Never to be seen again. Your friends? Abandoned. Clueless. Left wondering what happened to your being. Would you ever return to your home? Would Hyrule be your resting place? Whether from old age or the consequences of a risky move, resulting in a bloody pool beneath your cooling body-

How did you get here? When did you get here? Where were you? Was this real? Were you real? The suspense almost choked you, hands shaking with repressed emotion, clutching tightly to your cloak that hung from your shoulders. Home. You wanted home. You wanted your home. You wanted, wanted, wanted, wanted-

“(Name),” Wild called again, his hand coming to join yours balled tightly around the fabric of your mantle, “Please, I know you are scared but you must pull through.”

The Champion sounded so close yet so far. A mixture of nonsense and sense as your brain continued to stay muddled in the lone castle hallway.

Not a skulltula stalked the corners, nor did the Shadow’s darkness lurk, dragging against the walls and floor as it searched desperately for your petrified figure. Was he still reeling from your defiance? Had he simply taken the wrong turn at some point while desperately scrambling after you? Why wasn’t he here? Was he waiting? Watching?

A whimper broke past your lips.

Wild glanced around nervously.

What to do? What to do? The Wild Hero knew of your pain but yet didn’t know how to heal it. Time was ticking, he knew that danger was on the prowl and with only a lone holder of courage, the blonde knew that it would be a dangerous brawl indeed-

But then he remembered.

Wild remembered back, all those many moon cycles ago, when the Shadow had struck down the ranch-hand. Rivers of blood bloomed from the slash of the Iron Knuckle’s blow, spouting maroon sullying the area around Wolfie as he collapsed back onto the earth below, unmoving and quiet as time seemed to pause as all eyes fell onto him. He remembered the rage, he remembered the fear and the shouting and the pleas and he remembered it.

Standing. Watching. Waiting.

From anger sprouted seething hatred as he stared. It felt mocking, despite the apparent leaking wound under its bulking armour. Mocking of the hero before it, triumphant over its victory- Twilight had gotten cocky in his incessant hunt and now he had experienced its true power.

Wild had snapped then, watching his friend bleed out between the bodies of his brothers protecting him even unknowingly. His newly forged sword drawn at the ready with his hand itching towards his slate as he bolted towards it. The hero did not care of its destructive power, he did not care of the consequences of his rage; others yelled around him but he would not yield, not even for them.

And he did what he did best- he swung.

The Chains of Stasis keeping it still, he hurled hit after hit of his blade. Every emotion that burned in the rivers of his veins poured into the strength of each and every blow. The dents in the armour only fed into his bloodlust, gripping his heart, almost choking but he kept at it, kept beating until the dinging finally stopped and his sword snapped from the strain, the armoured giant bubbling from the tension before exploding into a barrage of scrap, liquid darkness pooling around the remains.

The first attempt to break them. Put the fear into them all as Twilight had laid in that inn bed. The Shadow had tried to pull them apart from the seams, digging its sharpened claws into the fabric to rip what held them together- their brotherhood, their bond. If one was to fall, what would become of the rest? Chaos would ensue and chaos did take its toll, fights and venomous words breaking out between them.

But…but Twilight had made it. Miraculous and a miracle, the man of muscle had returned to his brothers with only regrets of secrecy to his name.

Wild would not let this happen again. He would not let the Shadow grin that mocking smirk as you laid cold on the floor below, blood pooling beneath you.

“(Name), I’m going to lift you, okay?” Words soft, the Wild Hero stroked your hands, testing his touch. “Don’t panic.”

When you didn’t respond negatively he moved his palms downward, slipping one under your knees and tightening another around your back, pushing his weight onto one leg to haul himself to his feet. It wasn’t ideal, not being able to fight, but this was all he could do while you were still stunned.

Bouncing you a little, he readjusted you in his arms and made quick work of returning to his brothers.

----------

Despite the Ache’s deceit and malicious intentions- it had not lied.

The skulltula herd had been quite the fight. The dodging of pincers while slashing their swords, snapping jaws with saliva dripping an ungodessly sight until the very end, Sky plunging the Master Sword straight into the archnid’s softened belly with monster blood spraying. The hero’s eyes were dark then, watching the creature writhe and squeal in pain until the very end, the dark purple ‘poof!’ of monster magic fading along with any remnants of the beast.

“We must still check the castle’s library- whether or not another hoard awaits us.”

They had to find those hostages.

And they did.

Builders, guards, mere travellers and others from the settlement were held up in the confines of the library- singing praises of the heroes appearance, handshakes and hugs of desperation shared all around as they cheered.

“Our rations grew smaller, we were unsure if we would ever make it out alive!” Cried the head guard, Cillian was his name. “Thank you, good sirs, thank you so!”

“What led you into this mess?” The smithy had asked, “What happened?”

A builder’s moustache shook along with his wobbling lip, tears cornering his eyes. “Great big beasts with too many legs and eyes chased us! Attacked those who were unprepared! The library was the only place restored enough to keep back all of them!”

His friends comforted him as he wailed.

Cillian turned back to the heroes.

“Tell me, heroes- do these monsters still stalk those halls?” Cillain seemed almost afraid of his own words, let alone the answer. “Are we still in danger?”

The ranch-hand stepped forward. “We are all far from perfect safety but the hallways are no longer overgrown with webs or these creatures. We will escort you out, but any fighters who can still draw their sword should stay prepared to brawl.”

Hylians cried out in despair but the more battle prone called for their clarity- now wasn’t the time, they needed to escape.

The heroes did not forget of their other current affairs. Hyrule’s hand shaking around the hilt of his sword as he looked forward, dead eyed at the thoughts running through his mind.

Had the Wild Hero found you yet? Or did he still sprint through those halls? Once Twilight had tossed him with his shield, his bare strength throwing the smaller blonde over the crowd of monsters and a little further down the hallway, Wild had raced away. The skulltula couldn’t even keep up, left in the dust of the Hylian heroes brown polished boots. It was no surprise of course, the man had one goal on his mind and that was finding you- he had no time.

Were you okay? Were you dead? Hyrule’s pupils shook in boiling anger and fear. What if Wild hadn’t made it in time? What if he had just stepped into the scene to see the Shadow’s hands tear wildly at your skin, blood staining his claws as he tore out your own heart?

What-

A scream.

A scream so vile and horrid echoed through the stones, bouncing through the hallways and catching the ears of the masses. Others also screamed, horrified. Many covered their own ears and others ducked when the walls shook from this shriek’s power, dust crumbling from newly built structures and books falling off their shelves as the shockwaves hit until finally relaxing.

The heroes all shared a look.

Warriors wasn’t fast enough to grab Hyrule’s tunic before he was scrambling.

“Traveller!”

The eldest had roared, worried but also frustrated, but it was too late. Hyrule had leapt three steps each of the staircase and bolted right back the way they had come, the others in a state of shock before the Captain had begun to chase after him.

“I’ll make sure he won’t kill himself!”

And they, too, were gone.

Six remained.

Twilight’s hands twitched, glancing over to Time who could see the confliction in his eyes. Holding back for him.

He sighed, “Go.”

And now there were Five.

“We will escort you all, come.”

----------

Navigating the new paths of the castle was a little harder than Wild expected. It had been so long since he had trekked these halls, crumbling and blotched with Ganon’s malice as monsters of all kinds chased him. Bad memories, ones he would much prefer to forget, nevermind what this grand palace would have looked like before the chaos of the Calamity. Zelda hadn’t come to see the rebuilding yet either, despite the idea being raised, similar tainted dreams associated with her old home. It was why she stayed with him back in Hateno, making plans and working towards a goal in the confines of brick instead of the towering stone.

Anywho, Hyrule Castle was renewed and with renewal came new things- these were new hallways. Winding and detailed, new rooms had been carved from the remains of old- the webbing of the skulltula only added to the confusion, everything looking the same.

Damned beasts.

Sneaking by another one of those eight legged monstrosities, Wild dipped out of the room quietly and sped his walk to a silent jog, your arms tightening around him. More lucid now, you clung to the man in fear.

“Is he looking for us?” Your voice was a whisper, soft against his ear and making it twitch. “Or did he give up?”

He hated to quash that small spark of hope that dwindled. “I highly doubt it, not when it’s just the two of us.”

Your terrified whimper broke his heart. “He knows I’m the guide- he thinks I have some sort of magical power.”

It made sense, why else would he drag you here-

“He said he wanted it, he said he was going to tear out my heart-”

“Hey, hey, shhhh, shhhh.” The hero held you close, ducking into a corner away from prying eyes as you silently wept into his shoulder. “I won’t let that happen, do you hear me? He won’t touch a hair on your head.”

You’d cried like this only once before. Terrified, choked out, the hero could remember the weight on his chest and the feeling of fingers gently combing through his hair despite the lack of physical appearance with him. Wild could see the shading trees, leaves blowing in the wind as he laid in a pool of his own blood near the dead centre of Giant’s Forest- the Hinox remains laid just a little ways away.

“Please, Link, please you can’t die-” You choked, his heart hurting at the whimper. “You can’t leave me here alone-”

Wild hadn’t been gifted with Mipha’s grace yet. Too busy challenging himself to do more, beat more, he needed to be perfect when the time came to defeat the evil lurking within the cogs of the Divine Beasts. Better yet the malicious monster that resided in Hyrule Castle.

Yet there he laid, chilling and still in the once luscious green grass.

You had saved him somehow of course you had, someone just as amazing and brilliant as his guide would be the one to pull him from the brink of death. He would later wake from his unconscious slumber, laying somewhere different but bandaged and semi-functioning while you sobbed in relief. You never told him what you did, but he trusted you enough to never ask- after all, he always woke up alive, didn’t he?

Alive and remembering your shaking voice as you pleaded with him not to fall victim to his injuries.

Wild hated your frightened tears but at least this time he could do something about it.

Looking at him, broken and afraid, he moved his hand to gently brush away the wetness cornering your eyes. “I’m here for you, (Name).”

You searched his gaze for hesitation but found only sincerity.

“Do you think you can stand?”

“Y..yeah…”

The blonde helped you to your feet gently, his arm careful around you until finally you could stand on your own shaky legs, fighting back the mental exhaustion of it all. The hero pulled his sword from his sheath with his free hand coming to grab your own before tugging you to follow after him quickly, eyes scanning the area then quietly jogging towards another corner.

Another body slammed right into the both of you.

Winded, you could only manage a yelp, falling back along with the wild hero who portrayed a wide eyed protective rage only to gape at the familiar sight of shaggy brown hair and eyes of emerald green with dusted brown as you all crashed down to the floor below, the other form jumping back in surprise.

Hyrule’s sigh of relief held what could have been mistaken for his soul returning to his form.

“(Name).”

“Rulie-” You were tackled, body almost constricted by his tight hug. “Hyrule- Link-”

“I’m sorry.” He rushed out, his face settled in your hair. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry we couldn’t stop it-”

“‘S’okay-” You sniffled but Hyrule’s shaking breath stopped you.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“...I lost your dagger, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be silly, you’re more important than a measly blade.” You felt a tear drop into your hair, “So much more important.”

Your own hand came to gently brush his hair, brown curls engulfing your fingers as you worked to relax the tension out of his body. Your other hand still grasped Wild’s, squeezing gently at the digits to remind him that you hadn’t forgotten his presence, far from it. The reassurance was met with a grateful squeeze back.

“Come, we must go.” Once again you stood, the three of you a tight knit with the heroes still brandishing glinting swords. “Who knows where the Shadow could be-”

“There you are!” Hyrule flinched, turning back the way he came to see Warriors and Twilight jog down the hallway, only stopping once they had finally gotten closer- none looked please. “Traveller we’ll talk later about your selective hearing- Champion, (Name), are you alright?”

The Captain looked relieved but with an air of professionalism around him, standing tall with both his sword and shield pulled at the ready for combat. Twilight wasn’t quite sitting in the same boat- the anxiety blooming into relief at the sight of you but more so Wild, muttering a soft ‘thank the goddess’ under his breath before stalking closer to slap him upside the head.

“No more idiocy.”

Wild’s face showed understanding but his eyes sung a different chorus. “You and I have different definitions of what counts as idiotic.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“As I said, later,” Warriors insisted, turning back, “I saw an exit not much further back, we can meet the others outside and discuss any previous misgivings when we are whole-”

“There you are.”

Ice.

An icy chill filled the air around you as your stomach dropped right into a pit of despair, the hairs on the back of your neck standing with electrifying effort accompanied by the feeling of dread dragging a sharpened claw right up your spine.

You turned slowly in comparison to the heroes' snapping spins, swords and shields at the ready while staring with eyes of venom at the seeping shadows that curled round the corner of a following hallway at this crossroads of sorts. Darkness lurked, light from the hanging torches blown away by a haunting whispering wind as a murky blackness finally came into view with eyes of red and a mouth pulled to show rows of too many teeth.

How Nintendo had reduced Dink to something so puny was beyond you- he was fucking horrifying.

“Ah, and the heroes of Courage too- what a delight.” Too many voices, couldn’t he just choose one? You covered your ears like a frightened child. “Have you come to see the execution?”

“Shut your mouth, evil scum.” Hyrule hissed, “The only execution we’ll be witnessing is yours when I behead you-”

“Oh do quieten down, Hero of Hyrule, your words aren’t as impressive as you think.” Hyrule huffed in anger and the Shadow cackled, “Awh, have I upset you fairy boy?”

A phantom red sword flew through the air and Dink dodged with only another laugh, rolling with the darkness beneath his form.

“Oh, almost- better luck- hm? Never.”

From behind you, you felt a shift. Just the tiniest bit of movement but still it had you glancing back quizzically to Twilight, his form stiff and slightly…shaking as panicked eyes stayed focused on the monster in front of you all. You weren’t the only one to notice, however, Wild glancing back in slight concern with Warriors stepping closer to his brother in spirit.

Dink noticed too.

And he smiled wider.

“Hero of Twilight.” He cooed, words dripping honey that hissed and bubbled with underlying poison. “Awh, what’s wrong- seems as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Twilight’s sword shook in a sweating grip. “Shut your mouth-”

“Or maybe you’re just…” The shadows shifted for a moment and you swore you saw the glinting metal of an Iron Knuckle’s helmet staring right back at you. “...scared.”

Twilight’s ears folded back along with his steps, skin paling.

Warriors looked pissed. “Ranch-hand, do not-”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you too, captain.”

Once again, Dink changed, yet this time a younger version of the Captain stared back.

Warrior’s tensed.

No. No you wouldn’t let this happen. No matter your own heart crushing fear you were not about to let this bastard do this to them. Dink could scare you as much as he wanted, threaten you and nearly end your life but you drew the line at the others, you would not let him scare these heroes just like he scared you.

Fucking bastard, using the weakness of others against them.

“I’ll fucking show you…” A muttered growl did not catch his attention, nor did your movement as you leaned down to grab the convenient crumbled brick just a little ways away then stand once again.

You did this lightning fast, not allowing even a moment of hesitation from you or consideration from them as you ditched the slab right at his face.

Surprised chokes left all of them as Dink yelped in pain then cursed, that same demonic growling from earlier leaving him. Despite his body merged in the darkness you could see the blood curl around his fingers as his hands desperately tried to cover the damaged eye that still glared molten scorn right at your figure.

“You litTLE BRAT!” You flinched at the rage but tightened your resolve, standing just before Warriors and Twilight so he would focus on you. “When I get my hands on you again I’ll tear you limb from limb-”

“I don’t think you can.” You were talking nonsense but you didn’t care. “I think you’re too fucking stupid to- I mean I got away once already, whose to say I can’t just do it again?”

You just loved tempting fate, didn’t you? Tempting her and the devil that she tangoed with as Dink’s pupils shrunk in a frenzied rage while his shadows whipped around him angrily, searching for something to break- something to destroy. Hyrule and Wild stepped a little closer together, acting as a shield in case those tendrils of shade got too close.

“Watch your tongue before I cut it out-”

This time the phantom sword struck and it struck hard, impaling right into the Shadow’s shoulder with a gorey ‘schlink’ that pinned him to the wall behind him. The monster shrieked, gargling in pain with volumes that raised and dropped, tones that lightened and deepened while his hand, holding his bleeding eye moved instead to grasp at his punctured shoulder.

There wasn’t much else of the scene to watch when you were thrown over someone’s shoulder and rushed away from it all. You tried turning to count heads and see who had grabbed you so quickly but when the sound of rushing footsteps caught your attention. You stared back at Dink who had sunken into the shadows that chased after you all, the light from the torches vanishing as the darkness caved in on the corridor and filled it with nothing but pitch black.

You could only see his eyes.

Haunting, raging eyes as they chased the five of you, stealing the solace of the light to take over with his gloom.

You were hypnotised by the morbid spectacle.

It was fast.

Really fast.

A quick turn almost gave you whiplash but you still watched him run, dementated as he slammed into the wall before shaking off his daze and crawling like a demon against the floor. Still no body, only shadow as you got closer and closer to a large brightness that hung behind you.

“Almost there!”

“Is it still chasing us!?”

“Dear Hylia in heaven-”

You felt its hatred. You felt its wrath. You felt its bloodlust and you felt your own fear crawling back down your spine. You imagined those scenes in horror movies, the eldritch abomination scrambling over itself as it frantically chased the poor victim through those darkened scenes- this is what it felt like. This was the dread those innocent people experienced.

You watched helplessly as claws reached out to grab you, infernal cursing catching your ears as its hand loosely missed your saviour’s shirt-

Light almost blinded you as you entered the outside world. The sun glaring down on your small group as they skidded to a stop just before falling right off a collapsing cliff side.

They turned instantly, swords still pulled and ready to fight, your body falling off the shoulder of Hyrule who looked murderous as he kept his sword pointed towards Dink.

The Shadow’s darkness took up the whole of the doorway, twitching and humming with a putrid magic as Dink just stood there. Watching you all with crimson eyes, with black ooze still dripping from one of his sockets along with the hole in his shoulder, he did nothing. Made no move, made no sound, the only thing he did was stare- right at you, centre of the group, burning and hate filled.

You didn’t understand why he didn’t move closer after all he did not burn in the sun. However, maybe the light still had an affect, the monster was a shadow after all and the two did not mix well- maybe this applied to Dink also?

Maybe four was too big of a crowd in the shine of the afternoon sun.

“Well!? What are you waiting for?!” Wild hissed, walking forward only to be grabbed by Twilight. “Fight us, monster!”

Dink’s glare moved to Wild, still just as sinister and vile before he turned back to the darkness and left you at that, standing there and viewing the ordeal with a growing confusion.

Was that…really it?

“Why did it just-”

“Doesn’t matter.” A soberness washed over Warriors, his eyebrows pinching. “If we are to fight him we need the Master Sword, let us return to the group-”

Hyrule’s face was plastered in disbelief. “And just leave that thing there!? It could get away-”

“What would you have us do, traveller!?” The captain looked frazzled, hair messy and eyes wild in contrast to his usual pristine presentation- Dink’s little trick must have gotten to him worse than you had expected. “The Shadow does not die by natural steel, the sword is our only hope!”

Wild looked just as desperate as Hyrule, spinning in Twilight’s grip “So we just leave the beast!? No, if one of us were to return to the others and bring them here-”

“If the beast is still watching us it would be sure to attack if we were alone.” Twilight tightened his hand, a reflex with the champion. “We return to the others whole and discuss a plan.”

“We need to attack while we still have him here!”

An argument bloomed with the men, voices raising along with hands waving but it slowly muffled out the longer that you stood there, eyes still focused on that shaded hallway of trickery and pain.

You had almost died.

The words echoed around your head like a siren in the foggy night, screeching, painful, and anxiety inducing as it clawed at the inner walls of your mind. Scratched in by bloodied fingers of a madman, his fingertips soaked with crimson as he muttered the words like a cruel mantra.

“Dead. Death,” He sung, with a jolly preen, his eyes bloodshot with a lust for pain. “Dying. Suffering. Murdered. Brutalised. Slain. Killed.”

Your breaths became pants. Your pants became chokes. Your chokes became hyperventilating as tears streamed down your face. Clutching desperately at your chest, you frantically heaved for air as your knees buckled beneath you and you fell to the earth below. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, only cry and shake as you tried forcing sound to leave you. A whimper. A moan. A word. Hell, a laugh. Yet nothing seemed to break free.

Digging your nails into the position where your heart pounded, you twisted your hand in a motion, attempting to tear it out. It didn’t work, it wasn’t doing its damn job- better it laid in the dirt with the insects than inside you if it would only serve to be damaged goods.

Nonetheless, you finally managed something. Moments of struggling dragged into hours of torture finally minimalised when you sucked in a massive portion of air, body arching from the pain as you forced it into your lungs.

And you screamed.

Ears ringing as it progressed from a small yell to a blood-curdling wail, voice refusing to break as you tore your throat to let out everything you had bottled down in that last horrible hour.

It had only been an hour.

Your head slammed against the dirt, body curling into itself as you felt your throat grow raw from the excessive shriek. A violent reaction, a bubble ran up your throat and you gagged, pushing yourself higher and hurling your digested breakfast all over the ground, scrunching your watering eyes shut in an effort to avoid the scene of acid and chunks sullying the earth.

Hands reached you, your name being called but it didn’t stop the repeat of gags and sobs.

Your body finally gave out.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid

301 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 2 years

Note

The God probably lies to the other followers, telling them if they give them offerings daily then they will let the others go out with you, spend time with you, (and if they receive enough offerings at the end of the week) even touch you! Aren't they generous?? (Mf just waiting for the right moment for them to have a physical form and steal you away lol)

Trying to get the cult started in your name to worship a dark God was hard work. Within the confines of your tent, you seek rest for another day you've failed at your true goal. As you drift you to sleep, you grow unaware to the figure standing at the tent's entrance.

The follower tightens their grip around the basket in hand. They had missed the ceremony of sacrifical offerings; the day spent on making sure it was absolutely perfect. They creep to your side; blood rushing to their face. Being alone with you was like a dream - even if you were unaware. Their hand itches toward your bare hand, stopping before they lost complete control. Just being here was punishable by banishment; not by your own words, but by those of the others. If they actually touched you, who knows what would happen. Temptation bit at the back of their mind - as well as the whisper of a disembodied voice.

"Child....."

The voice is deep, foreboding. A rasp they've heard before in their slumber, that they usually ignored. You were the only voice they'd listen to. Just as they were about to tune it out, it continues - catching their attention.

"You wish to touch their flesh, correct?"

They swallow hard, dipping their head in agreement.

"It... is all I've ever wanted since laying eyes on them."

"Then toss your offering into the flames of my blood. As their master, they have no choice but to comply to my command. You may have your moment with them if i I deem it worthy."

They hug the basket to their chest. Was what they were hearing really true? Or simply delusions guided by their swollen heart. They look at you, so blissful and unaware - an absolute gift from the higher powers. They'd do anything to hold you even once.

They remove a piece of their offer and place it by your bedside, leaving the tent and crossing the field to a cabin across the way. Within the cabin; down a crimson carpet, a fire burns brightly in its ceremonial fountain. The red edging the orange flames flickered a deeper color than one would find normal; the heat given off like standing at the gates to hades.

The follower walks up to it, dumping their gift into the pit; flames jumping higher at the fresh fuel.

"Worship me... For them."

They kneel, clasping their hands together in prayer. The words feel uncanny on their tongue. Wrong. But they'll do it - for you.

"My... lord, by your grace please give me the leeway to take hand with the one you’ve choosen as your disciple. Let me walk by their side for the rest of our days. Please.... let me kiss them goodnight."

The dark god accepts their worship and offering. Muffins.. it was a start at least. It could feel its power growing; the door between your realities so close - yet still not in reach. So close - to you. They almost felt sorry for the pathetic beings that fell at your feet; if the way they looked at you didn't digust them so. Eager for the day it could smite them all and claim you once and for all. For now, that was only a distant dream.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere insert #Yandere God #Yandere cult #Cult yandere #soft yandere #yandere story #tw yandere #x reader

2K notes · View notes

spaceacealex · 15 days

Text

Trip report!!

For those that have been waiting, sorry! I got home and immediately had to go help with a family thing. But here it is!

First, was the obvious. We had to drop off the baby boy with my parents. He had a great time with the family and was very dirty, stinky, and sleepy when we got back.

So where were we? We went to see the eclipse! As many of you know, My wife proposed to me under totality in the 2017 solar eclipse. So she surprised me with time off to travel to this last one on 4/8!

We flew to Nashville, TN and rented a car so I could scratch my road trip itch. We visited her family in KY, then went up to Cairo, IL for the event.

THIS is the public library in Cairo. It's an absolutely darling building, built originally to be a library and still proudly serving that purpose. The gals who were manning the counter were sweet, knowledgeable, and so welcoming. They had goodie bags with moon pies and starbursts and collected the eclipse glasses when we were done with them so they could be sterilized and sent down to Mexico for the next eclipse. So lovely to talk with and they welcomed us to spend the eclipse on their lawn with some local families. So we did!

We had a little picnic, chatted with some of the families, and got to watch totality in a tiny little town with so much character I still smile just thinking about it.

Hopefully you don't expect us to have top tier eclipse photography lol, but these are great for us! I got to kiss my wife under totality and it was hella romantic.

Then I got to drive more....then Kara got to drive because there were a ton of accidents and the three hour drive back to Nashville took more than six hours. So uh, my motion-sick self was struggling with the stop and go traffic.

But when we got there, we had a great night and then day walking around Eastside Nashville and pointing out the arcades I was going to take Kara to that evening.

That didn't quite happen.

Because the first stop we made in the arcade crawl is where we stayed all night.

No Quarter, the pinball arcade I now have a hat for because it's so friggin cool. We got to do many cool things there. 1)They had excellent drinks and in true Oregonian fashion I got to try the local cider and judge it. (it was good!) 2) I kicked Kara's ass at pinball. Very important. 3) I got MY ass kicked at pinball by literally every other person in the building. Also very important. Because 4) I got to play in a pinball tournament hosted by Belles and Chimes, specifically for women and non binary folks!

How did I, notorious nerves-haver and not a multiplayer pinball player join this?

5) I got to meet Quinn Hills. You know, @quinnhills ? Yeah. I'm still so giggly about it.

Hi. This pic is me, many drinks in, just absolutely giddy getting to meet (and hug!!) one of my favorite artists.

She's so sweet, so kind, and asked if I wanted to join the tournament.

Remember: do what beautiful women ask of you.

I am still kicking myself because I dropped the cliche, "your music has helped me through some really hard stuff." I mean, its absolutely true!! But I had told myself I was gonna be more eloquent than that. Oh well. I would blame the cider, but I was super excited and nervous before that, so I think I'm just a little goofy.

Kara also was happy to meet the woman who's music I had been blaring for that whole six plus hour car ride back to Nashville, and she's agreed to play pinball with me at our home bar! Major win!

We stayed until one in the morning, Kara ordered pizza to the hotel, and we had safe flights back home the rest of the day.

It was such a fun trip and I'm still losing my mind at all the little bits of it.

When I stream next (soon) I'm sure you'll hear about all this again. Along with my breakdown of eclipse conspiracies I've spent far too much time analyzing. <3

#talking tag #quinn hills

46 notes · View notes

changedmyminditsnicehere · 8 months

Text

Attempting to push myself to actually write the Rugby Smut (inspired mostly by tags by @softest-punk and @janimoon, who rightly pointed out that rugby shorts + Hob thighs should be admired at length). I have never written anything even remotely smutty, so this is 501 words of run-up in an attempt to ease myself in slowly!

(For some reason, I can no longer work english tenses. I wish it was because this is my second language but I just can't write, so if you spot anything particularly egregious, please let me know!)

====

For all people assumed, given his fashion and his choice of career as a fantasy writer, that Morpheus was a chaotic artsy person, the opposite could not be more true. At all times, Morpheus meticulously considered and planned how he would respond to any potential situation that might arise. That these situations and his responses might not be what the average person expected was not his problem. However, somehow, he had neglected to prepare for this one situation. It was not like it was not a regularly occurring situation. It was even a situation about which he had fantasised, repeatedly, so in truth he could blame nobody but himself for failing to come up with a concrete plan of action which he could implement in reality.

The situation was thus: Hob had returned from rugby practice.

This was not a new situation. It had in fact happened nearly every week for their entire acquaintance. This was, however, the first week that such an event had taken place and Morpheus had had permission, even encouragement to look. Not just to look, but to touch. There was in fact such a wealth of possibilities that presented themselves in terms of future actions, that Morpheus found himself instead frozen, unable to run through even a single option before the continued presence of Hob in front of him wiped it from his mind.

Hob was still flushed from exertion, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. The park was barely two minutes away from their flat. It was the whole reason they had taken the place, though combining a trainee teacher salary and a book deal to cover the rent had been a difficult decision. Morpheus was finding himself incredibly glad they had indeed gone with it. Hob bent to take off his trainers, shirt rising up as he crouched, and a droplet of sweat ran down the narrow of his back. Morpheus felt his own blood run south.

As Hob stood, Morpheus found he could not drag his eyes back up, though seeing Hob’s lovely smiling face would have been enough to sustain him for decades at any other moment. Hob loved rugby, its focus on strength and speed and physicality, always preferred it to the tricksy footwork required in football. A blunt force object, he always called himself laughing. He always came back from training and matches cheerful - not even a black eye could blacken his mood.

Morpheus loved rugby for another reason. A reason he was currently looking at. Rugby shorts are… short. Very short. Hob's arse was fantastic. It needed no real assistance to be so. Hob looked good in even the most unflattering trousers he refused to throw out because they were not yet utterly inappropriate in public and thus. But clad in tight, white shorts, well, Morpheus could write odes to Hob's arse, to its roundness, to the way he could see his muscles shifting as Hob moved from unlacing one shoe to the other, to the way the fabric seemed to cup his cheeks in a way that made his palms itch to do the same.

#dreamling #the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #he wears short shorts I wear black floor length capes or however the song goes #Rugby!Hob

118 notes · View notes

queerofthedagger · 1 year

Note

Monaaa beloved ❤️ will you please write angst prompt number 18. "Please talk to me" for one of your December ficlets? 👀 Can be either merthur or dreamling <3 your choice.

Miaaa <33 Some emotional hurt/comfort dreamling just for you! <3

devotion in morning grey

As a general rule, Dream does not interfere with his lover’s dreams, no matter how badly his fingers itch to condemn some of Hob’s worse nightmares. Too important, for the human mind to face its darkness.

Tonight, though, the entire fabric of the Dreaming ripples. Something tugs at the place within Dream’s chest that ought to be occupied by a heart, and he has to manifest teeth, just to clench them against the fissures of fear that are cascading across his consciousness.

He enters the dream in question before he can doubt such a decision.

He does not expect to find himself in the New Inn.

“Then I will take my leave of you and prove you wrong.”

Hob watches, frozen; Dream does, too. It is a memory, except for all the ways in which it is not. Except for how this is the New Inn, not the White Horse; for how the year is clearly 2022 or one close to it, and not the 19th century.

How Dream knows that they are not distant acquaintances in this scenario.

This is a nightmare of Dream leaving, despite the promises he has bitten into the soft flesh of Hob’s throat countless times, by now.

His counterpart disappears into the rain-drenched night, and Dream steps into the scene, allowing himself to be noticed.

Hob’s gaze, when it finds him, bears no relief; there is only resignation.

Swallowing against the dread, Dream gathers the powers of his realm around himself. “This dream is over.”

---

He sits on the edge of Hob’s bed as Hob drifts into waking.

He watches as Hob presses his knuckles against his eyes, hands trembling. When the silence stretches, when Hob refuses to look at him even though he is clearly aware of Dream’s presence, he finally, carefully tugs Hob’s hands away from his face.

“Talk to me,” he requests. He swallows and adds, “Please.”

The noise spilling out of Hob’s throat is self-deprecating and hollow. “What is there to talk about? You saw how it goes.”

Beneath Dream’s fingertips, Hob’s pulse beats wildly. It is still early in London, the morning barely forcing its way inside, and Dream is not sure how to convey the irrefutable fact that there is nothing Hob could say that would get Dream to leave again.

A frightful thought, even on the best of days. The crux of the matter too, as it seems.

As a general rule, Dream does not interfere with his lover’s dreams. This, he thinks, taking in the bruised skin beneath Hob’s eyes, the exhausted slope of his mouth, might require an exception.

He raises Hob’s hand to his mouth and kisses his fingertips, one after the other. The callouses are rough from the centuries, are painfully human, and all the more dear for it; Hob’s weary eyes track his every movement.

“I vow to you, I will not leave you again,” he says, spins it into an oath made of centuries’ worth of power, and lets it sink into the skin of their hands.

“Dream—”

“You have reason to fear, both from experience and what you know of me,” Dream continues; no matter how much it displeases him, it is the truth, after all. “But you know me, too, to stay true to my word, do you not?”

Hob’s lips twitch faintly, and Dream knows without needing power or inhuman insight that Hob is thinking of another promise Dream had made him, one spoken in anger, that he had not, in fact, kept.

He runs his fingertips across the back of Hob’s hand, around his wrist, until he can lift the frail point of his pulse to his mouth, too.

“Will you trust me?” he asks, too aware of how monumental a request it is.

Hob merely laughs; it is a low, throaty sound, that settles between them as Hob pushes himself up. “Always have; you know that.”

“Then what is it about this scenario that upsets you so? Your fear was strong enough to summon me through half of my realm.”

A lesser man may have looked ashamed; Hob mostly looks sheepish.

It untethers something warm within Dream’s chest, the way that Hob never falters, not even when stripped bare to his marrow.

“Then what?” he asks once more because he needs to know. He needs to make sure—

“I will fuck it up again at some point,” Hob says, shrugging as if stating a foregone conclusion. “And whether you will come back to sort it out, to let me make it up to you a second time… Well, that is anyone’s guess, isn’t it?”

Perhaps the worst part, Dream thinks, is that he cannot protest this notion with as much certainty as he would like.

Not even between the two of them does his track record speak in his favour.

He touches his fingertips to the edges of Hob’s jaw, and for once, does not carefully pick and re-examine every word that he is about to use.

“I cannot promise you that I will never again disappear,” he says, and Hob smiles at him in response, but it is a sad thing; it chafes against the corners of Dream’s soul. “But what I can promise you is that I will always, always return to you.”

“Dream, you don’t—”

“I returned after you proclaimed me lonely. I returned after I had been held captive by a mere human for over a century, and I confessed my shame to you, too. A capricious creature I may be, but you know nothing yet of the extent of my devotion, Hob Gadling. I will return to you, always; I cannot make vows about how long it will take me, but I do vow, upon my honour and my function, that you will not rid yourself of me by something so simple as insult.”

In the lines of Hob’s face, Dream can read the surprise. He can read the pleasure there, too, and presses his fingers to Hob’s mouth to commit it to memory.

“Well,” Hob eventually says, something both exasperated and fond—finally, finally—curling through his voice, “I suppose then it is lucky that we both have more than enough time to wait out your moods, is it not?”

Dream hums in agreement, searching Hob’s face. He finds the beloved warmth there, the willingness to endure centuries of waiting; to try, again and again.

He leans forward to catch Hob’s lips with his own, and licks his promise to do better into Hob’s open mouth.

When Hob touches him in return, it feels as if he believes it, too.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream x hob #sandman fic #mona's writing #december gift-ficlets #mia tag

413 notes · View notes