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sobeautifullyobsessed · 12 days

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A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

words: 1.9k

Chapter Two

“Drop it now,” he repeated, with the sure authority of a man accustomed to having his orders obeyed, “And I promise I will not hurt you.”

Despite his iron grip, Seraphina struggled to pull her arm away, hissing through teeth gritted against the pain, “Won’t hurt me? You’re hurting me now.”

Harrison’s hold on her arm loosened some; she was still tightly caught, but the pressure of his grasp, the pain, had receded a fair bit—although she knew she’d find dark, finger-shaped bruises there in short order. If she even lived that long. “Forgive me,” he told her, his voice low and even, “I’d forgotten how fragile your bones can be.”

What an odd thing to say, she thought, straining for release from his clutch and realizing it was all too impossible; she was no match for his strength, and even if she could manage to trigger the mace, she had no sure way to aim it properly. She felt desperate, frightened tears well up in her eyes, but squeezed her eyes shut against them—for she would not give her assailant the satisfaction of her despair, nor would she beg for mercy.

He must’ve read that quiet resignation on her face, for he tugged her fist close and covered it with his free hand, urging her to see reason, “You cannot win this struggle, Seraphina. Your resistance is futile; surely you understand this?” Harrison’s voice was silk persuasion, rich and dark and seductive—at complete odds with the very real threat he presented. “I could easily break your wrist and prize your little weapon from your fingers—but I honestly have no desire to hurt you. Just let it go.” And then, to her great surprise, he added, “Please.”

Blinking through the tears that fell against her will, tears that betrayed weakness when she wanted to be strong, Seraphina met his eyes again. His beautiful, deadly eyes—and saw in them an unexpected sincerity that matched his gentle “please”. She bowed her head and opened her fist, leaving her key and the can of mace to fall onto the passenger seat.

“There—that wasn’t so difficult after all, was it?” Why was his voice so soothing? Fear of what he might do to her next coursed through her veins, yet Seraphina thought she could easily crumple to the ground, curl up into a fetal ball, and let his voice see her into untroubled darkness. The heat, the fear, the adrenaline, the struggle—all of it had sapped her of the will to face whatever might come next. She’d always believed it wasn’t in her nature to fall apart so quickly, but she felt that way now, all the same.

True to his word, Harrison released her arm, but Seraphina remained in place, braced against the passenger side door, shaking in the aftermath and considering her very limited options. She might try to make it to her hovercraft, but the stranger now held her key; and even if she had the strength to run and the speed to outpace him, to flee into the desert at her back would be equally as brutal as anything he might do to her. She'd have to make her stand right here, then--and though she was no match for his size and strength, she knew enough to leave him hurting before he took her down for good.

Taking stock of her condition--mentally preparing to fight him off as best she could--Seraphina flexed her left wrist carefully, wincing as she explored her tender forearm with cautious fingers. Nothing broken at least, though she felt a bone-deep ache; but it would not be enough to hamper any effort to defend herself.

Strangely, Harrison was ignoring her at the moment; having retrieved her keychain, he had torn the can of mace free with no effort, before hurtling it carelessly into the desert. Seraphina had a vivid image of her own broken, half-naked body flung just as easily and left upon the sand for carrion-eaters to feast upon. She shoved the idea down deep, knowing such fear would only cripple her--and was immediately dumbfounded when he held the key out to her.

"Did I not say I have no wish to harm you?" Harrison's eyes bored into her own, searching for calm and reasoned understanding. "In spite of how it appears, we are equally vulnerable in this place and situation. We must find a way to trust one another. " Sera only continued to regard him warily. "Take this," he insisted, "If I judge you correctly, simple concern for a traveler in need motivated you to stop. And in keeping with your nature, I believe that you will not deny me the help that I need."

Sera studied his face, looking for signs of deception, skittish to trust him but accepting his peace offering nevertheless. "You lied," she said, defiant yet holding her anger at bay, "This car isn't yours..."

Harrison nodded, his full lips pressed together against a small placid smile, "I never claimed that it was..."

"It's stolen," she fumed, irritated with herself for allowing him to so easily mislead her when her first instinct had been correct after all.

"An act of desperation, I assure you..."

"Just as this was," she exclaimed, extending her bruised forearm to him, "I have to wonder what happens to people who truly stand in your way, Mr. Harrison. "

Unruffled by her outburst, Harrison closed his eyes a moment and breathed deeply. When he looked to her again, he was the picture of patience. "I swear I have no desire to cause you--or anyone else--harm. But you must understand, I am in dire straits and as we linger here, my family is in imminent danger." He paused, weighing the effect of his words upon her. "Such a thing will make a man act beyond the measures of polite society."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his revelation of a family, but suspending her disbelief for the moment, "How then? What sort of danger is your family in?"

"Their very lives hang in the balance, threatened by a powerful man who seeks to manipulate me into working for him." Embers of hate flashed in his eyes, and he gave a bitter huff as he added, "Forcing me to work toward the most nefarious of purposes."

Sera shook her head, clearing the double vision that had crept up on her; she cupped a trembling hand against her forehead, which came away slick with perspiration. It was the heat getting to her, obviously. She felt parched, although the thought of putting anything into her roiling stomach left her feeling even more nauseous, and her head was pounding in time with her racing pulse. She needed to get out of the goddamn heat before she collapsed from heat exhaustion--while the man before her looked completely unaffected by the desert climate. "And...and I suppose this mysterious man is so powerful that you can't seek help from the proper authorities?" Sera leaned all her weight against the car door, wondering if Harrison had noticed her current state of distress.

If he did, he gave no sign of it, a mix of pain and rancor coloring his strikingly handsome features. "So powerful that it would be in your best interest to remain ignorant as to his identity and position." Anticipating her next question, he warned her, "Do not ask--for I cannot reveal that information."

Though stymied by his vague replies--and sensing a much more complicated tale behind what he'd already admitted to--Sera read blunt honesty in his voice and body language. And the fact that he had willingly returned her key while asking for--rather than demanding--her help, seemed a testament to some underlying truth. She realized that she likely had only a few more minutes until she passed out, leaving her completely at Harrison's mercy. "Then how...how did you end up here, stranded in the Mojave," Sera asked, panting softly, "How does any of this help your family?"

He was watching her closely now, so that he had to aware that she was fading fast. "That is a rather long and complicated tale, Seraphina." His voice had again taken on a lulling pitch. "One which I believe would outlast your capacity to remain on your feet."

She held on to the window frame, white-knuckled but determined to remain upright long enough to learn his hidden agenda. "I'm fine...I...I'm just a little light-headed..."

"Step aside now, Seraphina." Again, that tone of a man whose orders were obeyed without question. "You have little time left before you lose consciousness." His hand was already on the door handle, and she stumbled back in time for him to swing the door open.

Then he was looming over her, a tall, cooling shadow, reaching out to brace her. His touch this time was firm, while surprisingly gentle. "We need to get you out of this heat." Unexpected concern in is stunning eyes, calming concern in his voice. The man was a beautiful enigma.

"No...please...tell me. If...if you want me to trust you..." Her world was darkening around the edges, narrowing so that only his face remained in her field of vision. "If you want me to help...I need...I need to know..." Seraphina felt herself going, and as her consciousness fled, so did her fear and curiousity; only one need remained. She sobbed against him as he scooped her up into his arms, "But you promised...you promised not to hurt me again..." Her eyes fluttered shut as she slipped away from awareness.

Harrison strode swiftly towards her hovercraft, cradling her as softly as he could, knowing that the cool, dark interior was the quickest remedy at hand for what ailed her. "Oh, pretty little Seraphina," he murmured, brushing his lips against her dampened hair, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine and honey, relishing how light and easy she felt in his arms. "Hurting you is the least likely thing I have planned."

(to be continued)

If you enjoyed this, please reblog ~ it's the only way others can see this work.💟

tagging: @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @strangelockd @groovy-lady @aphroditesdilemma @stewardofningishzida @battledress @mousedetective @dearmrsstephenstrange @lorelei-lee @mckiwi @shinebrightlikeafanbase @cumberbatchitis @doctorhelm @strangeflashholmes221 @prulock @stargirl-designs @hajile10 @dancingmushu @iloveavengersblog @fireonmybones @osugahunnyicedtea @brayleigh14

(There were a few more blogs that I tried to tag based on the response to chapter one, but tumblr's messed up url search function kept telling me 'no blog found'🤨)

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armysonemeu · 1 year

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The entire JLD 2018 run is basically:

#honestly they ate #and left no crumbs #lets hope they team up again #cos this duo is absolutely magnificent #zatanna #wonder woman #zatanna zatara #diana prince #wondermagic #justice league dark #my post

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aphroditelovesu · 4 months

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Winter Solstice | Yan!HOTD

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Merry Christmas, my dear readers! I wish you a great day and a prosperous New Year! I hope you enjoy this Christmas special with our yandere family from HOTD! Good reading, forgive me for any mistakes and once again, have a great holiday to you ❤️🎄.

❝warnings: yandere themes, mention of death and obsessive and possessive behavior.

❝🐉word count: 1,941.

A long, long time ago, when the Earth was young and the days were short, people looked up to the sky with wonder and awe. They watched the Sun rise and fall over the horizon, its heat bringing life to the earth and its dark nights bringing a deep sleep to the world.

In the ancient realm of the seasons, each cycle marked the eternal dance between light and dark. As winter approached, a whisper spread through nature. Leaves fell from the trees, animals sought shelter and the nights extended, enveloping the world in a blanket of darkness and cold.

It was the time of the Winter Solstice, a magical moment when the Earth seemed suspended between extremes. People gathered around campfires, telling stories of times gone by, sharing warmth and hope amid the impending darkness.

On the eve of the longest night of the year, eyes turned to the sky, waiting for the miracle. Slowly, the Sun began its journey towards the horizon, fighting the darkness with its golden light. The stars twinkled above, bearing witness to the celestial spectacle.

And then, in the most sublime moment, the Sun began to rise, rising majestically into the sky. The colors of dawn painted the landscape, and people celebrated the rebirth of the Sun, knowing that light and warmth would return to the world. It was a symbol of renewal, hope and the continuous cycle of life.

On the Winter Solstice, people came together to celebrate the courage of the light that faces the darkness, remembering that even in the darkest moments, there is always the promise of rebirth and the light that returns to warm the hearts and illuminate the souls ways.

It had always been your favorite time of year, you loved how the snow fell from the sky and painted everything white, the food, the exchange of gifts and most importantly, it was when your whole family was together. You appreciated more than anything the few moments of peace that your family spent during that date, all happy and together. Like a big, loving family.

Having them all together was what you loved most as you grew up. All the disputes, the fights seemed to disappear during this time of year. Your heart and mind were at peace.

The green of the forest and the fiery red of love and passion. Its fabric was as soft as a spring breeze, a harmonious blend of silk and cotton that moved like leaves dancing in the wind. The predominant green was reminiscent of treetops, its hue varying from a lush emerald green to softer nuances, like newborn buds. The waist was accentuated by a deep red belt, as if it were the blush of the petals of a passionate rose. The intense tone stood out, creating a magnificent contrast with the lush greenery, and a decorative bow added a touch of elegance.

Something beautiful and elegant, with both of your family colors. Of the Targaryens and the Hightowers. There was some small, discreet blue embroidery that symbolized the Velaryon, subtle but standing out in its own way.

You turned to your maid who was looking at you with affection, you smiled at her, ''What do you think, Diane?''

She smiled widely, ''You looked incredible, my princess/prince. A suitable choice for a dinner with your family.'' There was a hint of worry in her tone, but you just held her hands and squeezed them gently.

''Don't worry, Diane. Everything will be fine.''

She nodded, ''Yes... Do you want me to accompany you to where the banquet will be held?''

You politely denied, ''No, but thank you.''

A hint of disappointment flashed in her brown eyes, but she just smiled and after a simple bow, she left the room. You took a deep breath and looked at the ring that adorned your finger, a gift from your grandfather, Viserys. He was sick and you swore to yourself that you would do everything to make this dinner enjoyable for him. He deserved it.

Just as you expected, everything was impeccable and your family was already waiting for you. A majestic dining room, adorned with golden chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting soft light on long solid wood tables.

The walls were covered with richly embroidered tapestries, depicting scenes from Targaryen history and grand festivities. The polished stone floor gleamed in the light of the torches that adorned the walls, reflecting the grandeur of the space.

In the center of the room, a long table stretched out, covered in an immaculate linen tablecloth and decorated with wildflower arrangements and heraldry of noble families. Silver candelabras exuded a soft glow, while golden goblets glittered in the dancing light of the flames.

Music filled the atmosphere as skilled musicians played lutes, flutes and harps, entertaining guests with happy melodies and lively dances.

''(Y/N)!'' Your mother's excited voice called out to you and you smiled at Rhaenyra, who quickly hugged you, placing her head against the crook of your neck, ''You look great, sweetheart.''

''Thanks, mom. You look great too.'' And indeed, she did. Rhaenyra wore a dark red dress decorated with gold that fit her perfectly. She pulled back a little and smiled at you.

''(Y/N)! We're here.'' On one side of the table, your younger brothers sat. You looked at Jacaerys, Lucerys, and little Joffrey, who were smiling at you. You kissed Rhaenyra's cheek and went to sit next to your brothers. Or you tried, for that matter.

For you were quickly pulled to the side as Aegon grabbed you and pulled you closer to him, Aemond, and Helaena. You smiled at your aunt and uncles and greeted them.

''Sit with us.'' Aegon asked and pointed to an empty chair next to Helaena who was smiling sweetly at you. You looked nervously at your brothers, who were staring at Aegon with disdain.

Aemond frowned and placed a hand over your shoulder, ''Come, stay with us.'' His tone said there was no room for argument.

Luckily for you, the doors opened and revealed Viserys along with Alicent, both smiling when they saw you. You apologized to your aunt and uncles and quickly walked over to your grandparents, helping Viserys sit down.

''Ah, (Y/N)... You look great!'' Viserys praised you, as soon as he sat down. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek in thanks.

Alicent pulled you into a tight hug, ''My husband is right, you look great. This shade of green suits you very well.'' She murmured and walked away hesitantly, adjusting your clothes. You kissed your face.

''Thanks. You look amazing too.'' She smiled in response and held your hands, squeezing them gently.

After a few minutes of talking to your grandparents, you walked over to your father and uncle, who were sitting next to each other. Laenor smiled widely and pulled you into a tight hug, not wanting to let go. He only let go when Daemon cleared his throat, irritated.

Laenor rolled his eyes and let go of you, staring at Daemon with an iron gaze. Daemon returned the same look and you acted quickly before they fought.

''Happy Solstice to you both.'' You said, twiddling your fingers nervously. Daemon smiled and patted you on the shoulder twice, pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back.

''Happy Solstice, my child.'' Laenor said after you and Daemon parted ways.

''Happy Solstice, (Y/N).'' Daemon said, looking at you softly. You thanked them and apologized as you left them, wanting to greet your other family members. You spotted Baela and Rhaena sitting near your brothers and quickly walked over to them.

''Finally. I thought you would never come and talk to us.'' Baela complained and got up from the chair and hugged you tightly, ''I missed you, cousin.''

You returned the hug tightly, smiling at her words, ''I missed you too, cousin.''

Rhaena cleared her throat and stood up, hugging you as you and Baela separated.

You smiled at the squeeze and said, ''I missed you too, Rhaena.''

Joffrey got out of his chair and jumped into your arms, laughing loudly when you caught him in a tight hug.

''You're getting too big for me to keep doing this.'' You laughed and rolled him over, placing him on the floor. Russing his dark hair, you smiled when he laughed. You hugged Luke, who seemed especially clingy today. Jace also hugged you tightly and wished you a Happy Solstice.

After talking for a while with your brothers and cousins, you went to greet your paternal grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were sitting next to Otto, oddly enough, and the three of them looked at you with affection.

''Grandmother.'' You kissed Rhaenys's cheek who kissed yours back.

''Grandpa.'' You hugged Corlys and he hugged you back and complimented the blue details on your outfit.

''Otto.'' You greeted your great-grandfather, who smiled warmly at you. He seemed relaxed and calm, more so than he normally was.

''Shall we have dinner in honor of this happy day?'' Viserys's loud voice sounded in the room and everyone focused on the King. There was a bit of tension about where you should sit, but you chose next to Viserys and Rhaenyra, who shook your hand under the table.

Servants brought silver trays loaded with delicious delicacies. Large roasts of meat browned on skewers, exuding a tantalizing aroma of exotic spices. Tables were adorned with fresh fruit, from crimson apples to juicy grapes, and freshly baked bread that looked like it had come straight from the oven.

Plenty of wine circulated among everyone and soon everyone was laughing and talking. Your heart felt lighter when you saw your entire family happy, getting along for the first time in a long time.

After the banquet, you all went to one of the rooms of the castle, where the gifts were. The exchange went well, you received gifts from everyone individually and you presented them with what you carefully chose. Ser Criston was present and you gave him a gift too, under the watchful eye of your family, a pure Valyrian steel sword. He smiled in thanks and said he would give you a gift later.

When it seemed like the exchange of gifts was over, Otto said, ''We have a special gift for you, (Y/N). From all of us.'' He gestured to your entire family, who looked on expectantly. You took the gift from his hand, a wooden box with gold details, which was well packaged.

As soon as you opened it, all the color in your face disappeared. It was a head, a human head. You felt like you were going to throw up when you recognized the head. Diane, your servant.

''W-What is this?!'' You groaned, the words stuck in your throat as you held the box, your legs shaking as terror invaded your body. Everyone seemed calm, even Viserys.

''This is our gift to you, my child.'' Rhaenyra said and approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder, ''To remind you not to approach anyone.''

''They can't be trusted,'' Alicent began to say, ''Diane couldn't be trusted. Criston was the one who cut off her head and Rhaenyra, Helaena and I cradled her. The choice of the box was Daemon's.''

They looked at you expectantly, as if they hoped you really liked the gift. Your hands were shaking so much that the box fell to the floor, Diane's severed head falling to the floor.

A perfect ending to a loving Winter Solstice with your family, from their perspective.

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hisui-dreamer · 28 days

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rinnnaaaa!!! congrats on 2k, and i hope you have loads of fun with this event 💖💖 for my request, how about leona (haha i'm so unpredictable, ikr) with peonies! (any culture works <3)

fit for the throne

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader

Synopsis: it wasn't fair how his life had treated him, so it was up to you to give him what he truly deserved

Tags: fluff, reader is a leona apologist, leona has never done anything wrong in his life :), reader is secretly royalty

Word count: 700+

Notes: thanks soru!! i hope you don't mind how long this took hehe. i poured all of my leona simp energy into this (⁠*⁠ﾉ⁠・⁠ω⁠・⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♫

Masterlist

flower of choice: peony

peonies are often referred to as the "king of flowers", because they overwhelmingly bloom in splendor, giving rise to interpretations of "wealth" and "magnificence".

A sigh interrupts your focus, drawing your eyes away from the grimoire cradled in your hands. Your focus shifts to Leona, who sits with regal poise in the armchair, embraced by the golden glow of the setting sun. The fading light plays upon the angles of his noble countenance, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the elegant curve of his cheekbones.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Leona's emerald eyes meet yours, frustration etched into his features as another sigh escapes his lips. “It’s another letter from home. They’re requesting my presence for some big event,” he grumbles.

An eyebrow arches at his words. Undeniably Leona's presence radiates warmth and comfort, like the brilliance of a supernova that dispelled the darkness, but it isn’t unknown to you how his worth went unappreciated in his childhood. Surely, anyone could appreciate him better than the palace of the Sunset Savanah had. What could they possibly want with his presence now?

“An event?” you echo, your grimoire long forgotten now that something far more important has caught your attention. Rising from the desk, you move to settle on Leona's lap, his legs shifting so you can lean against him comfortably. "It doesn’t seem very considerate of them to request your absence from school," you frown, your fingers combing through his hair in an attempt to soothe his frustration. It's unlikely they truly require his presence; more probable is their desire for the second prince to make a token appearance, showcasing the facade of a happy and stable royal family.

He huffed at your comment. “When have they ever been considerate?”

It was unfair, how they treated him like a chess piece to wave about whenever they pleased, but refused to acknowledge when he had a voice. He had qualities that could rival the great kings of the past, but his potential is overshadowed simply by the order of his birth. You can't shake the feeling that his true potential is being squandered within the confines of his homeland.

You've observed firsthand how effortlessly he embodies the qualities of a leader. One of your favourite attributes about him is his intelligence. His mind is razor-sharp and perceptive, effortlessly dissecting complex problems with precision. From your casual discussions alone, you’ve gleaned that he possesses a keen insight into matters of statecraft and diplomacy, navigating political intricacies with a deftness that belies his years.

His voice is velvety, smooth, and rich, with undertones of authority. When he speaks, his words carry weight, resonating with a quiet power that commands attention without the need for raised voices or harsh commands. He possesses a natural eloquence and is able to convey his thoughts with precision and clarity, leaving no room for doubt or misunderstanding.

His profound care and compassion for his people fill your heart with warmth. Leona's unwavering dedication to bettering their lives is evident as he tirelessly pushes for policies aimed at fostering prosperity and equality throughout the kingdom. Yet, what truly distinguishes him is his genuine warmth and kindness, treating everyone with respect and consideration, irrespective of their status or background.

But perhaps most striking of all is the aura of calm that surrounds him, even in the midst of chaos. Like a steadfast lighthouse in a storm, he remains unshaken by the turbulence of the world around him, his demeanour unwavering and composed. It is this unwavering composure, coupled with his innate sense of duty and honour, that truly marks him as a king among men.

“You would never be fit to rule!”

The words of Lilia Vanrouge resurface in your mind, the ones that triggered your beloved into his overblot, and a surge of fury begins to build within you.

Because he is wrong, entirely wrong. Because Leona is the only person you could ever see ruling by your side.

Said lion beastman nestles against you, nuzzling his nose gently into your cheek, his way of silently probing your thoughts, having sensed your bubbling anger.

Calmness washes over you at his affection. He truly deserves the world and so much more.

You pulled away slightly, gazing directly into his eyes.

It shouldn’t be too difficult for him to fall in love with your kingdom.

“Leona, dear, did I ever mention that I'm the heir to a kingdom's throne?”

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#✧2k! blossoming bouquets✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland leona #disney twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingsholar #twst leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona x reader #twst leona kingscholar #twst leona

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holybibly · 6 days

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Bunnies, I'm in a good mood today, so I'm going to give you a little teaser of my upcoming work with Hwa. I'm going to raise the bar for fanfic writing by creating the most gothic and decadent universe possible. It's a vicious mix of Interview with the Vampire and Dracula, so if you don't like bloody luxury, I feel so sorry for you.

It has always been like this, and it will always be like this—people avoid the village that stands beside the sinister Gothic castle where, according to legend, a beautiful midnight somnambulist holds the guilty legacy of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the magnificent prince of vampires sits alone in his dark, vast house, under the watchful eye of his mad and terrible ancestors, who stare at him from faded portraits, each of them prolonging their dreary posthumous existence through him. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly constructing endless constellations of indeterminate possibilities, as if a chance fall of cards on a regal, bloody velvet tablecloth could take him out of this cold, shuttered room and into a land of eternal summer and human warmth, erasing his heart's ancient sadness and allowing him to feel the love for the one who embodies both life and death simultaneously.

His voice is full of the distant echoes of long-forgotten love poems, like an echo that has resounded beneath the layers of the earth: "You have traveled to a place from which there is no return; you have traveled to a place from which there is no return. And he himself is like a dark dungeon filled with lonely echoes—a system of repetition, a closed circle. He is so handsome that his beauty appears unnatural; his beauty is an anomaly, a perfect defect, for in none of his hypnotic features is there even a suggestion of the poignant imperfection manifested in the imperfection of human existence. His beauty is the sign of a fatal disease; his blood is full of poison; and his black tears are the sign of the absence of a soul in him.

The elegant hands of the beautiful denizens of darkness are the guides of the hand of fate. The nails on his hands are long and sharpened like steel daggers. These nails and teeth—beautiful, glistening in the darkness like snow under the light of the moon—are visible signs of his inescapable fate, which he so desperately tries to escape with magical powers. His claws and teeth have been honed by centuries of brutal wars and bloody orgies; he is the last descendant of a poisonous, barren tree that took root in a time when men worshipped blind gods and the forces of nature.

As soon as the flaming sun sets, he rises from his luxurious bed and goes to the table, and sitting at that table, he plays his patient game until hunger awakens in him—an insatiable, scorching hunger that burns his whole being.

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vsenyatargaryen · 1 year

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Nerves of Fire

a|n; I love the idea so much!😂 hope you like this @witch-of-letters

Daemon Targaryen x Platonic Daughter!Reader , Rhaenyra Targaryen x Platonic Daughter!Reader

warnings: fluff

Translations; Kepa ~ Father || Muña ~ Mother

There had been very few times in his life where Daemon Targaryen could remember feeling nervous. He had always been so self assured, and though he understood the many dangers of the world, he always thought ahead - always felt prepared for whatever might come his way. That side of his nature had only grown after Rhaenyra gave birth to their first child. A beautiful daughter. You.

At the age of 8, you had found yourself your very own dragon. One that neither he nor Rhaenyra expected.

Your parents could scarcely believe it as you described first meeting your dragon, named ‘Cannibal’ by the small folk of Dragonstone, on the island where you lived. You told them the tale of how you bonded with him, managing to calm him as he stood guarding over the remains of various carcasses. He was terrifying and magnificent all at once. You’d never felt such an array of excitement and fear, but you knew, in your heart - he was meant to be by your side. He was meant to be claimed by you.

The first sighting your parents had of you flying on Cannibal’s back around Dragonstone felt like something from a dream. The dragon was so calm, so content in your presence. The opposite to the usual ravenous dragon who terrified the local people, animals and dragons.

Despite being one of the largest dragons, he navigated the sky with such ease, his wings gliding through the wind. You were so small and fragile in comparison, but it was like you were born to be carried by him.

“Kepa! Muña! Will you come and meet him now?” You rushed into your parents' chambers, paying little attention to the ladies in waiting styling your mothers hair for the upcoming tourney, or the septa calling your name as she tried to catch up with you after running off from your lessons. Spending the day with your dragon sounded much more interesting.

You were quick to be at your fathers side as the septa caught up with you, panting for breath.

“I apologise, your grace, my prince,” she looked between your parents, wide eyed. “l tried to get her to stay at her lesson.”

“I am not a dog,” you commented.

Rhaenyra and Daemon shared a glance, your father unable to hide his smirk at your reply. You seemed to resemble your parents more every day, a fact he found such pride in.

“Thank you, septa,” your mother replied with a polite smile. “She can spend the rest of the lesson with her father.”

The septa bowed her head and left, closing the door behind her.

You turned to your mother with a furrowed brow, “When will you meet Cannibal, Muña?”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll come and join you once I’m finished here, sweet girl,” she told you, and you grinned in response before taking your fathers hand in yours, unable to hide your excitement.

“Come along, Kepa,” you tugged at him, “before I send you to the septa.”

“She wouldn’t want to deal with me,” Daemon laughed, letting you lead him out of the chambers and through the corridors.

Despite the nerves gradually growing inside him at the thought of coming face to face with the infamous wild dragon who feasted on his own kind for the first time, he knew couldn’t let you down.

After all, he would do anything for you. Even stand in front of the Cannibal himself.

There were no men willing to stay alongside your dragon, not even while you visited him up in the hills. He didn’t like anyone near him. The dragon would only accept you.

The trek across the island to Cannibal’s lair wasn’t far and the dragon seemed to sense your presence before you even reached him. With a bellowing roar, he swooped in from the clouds and landed in front of you, his dark, narrowed eyes focusing on your father as he bristled.

“Lykirī, Cannibal! Bisa iksis ñuha kepa. Lykirī!” [Calm, Cannibal! This is my father. Calm! ] you shouted, hand raised out in front of his large head, his teeth bared.

The prince bowed his head and lowered himself to his knees out of respect, silently reminding himself to stay composed as he watched you reassure and coax the dragon to obey. ‘Lykirī, Daemon. Lykirī. Even though the blood of the dragon runs through your veins, you are really not to his taste.’

This was one time Daemon was definitely content to not be desirable.

The strong blow of air and stench of Cannibal’s breath slowly faded from Daemon’s presence as the dragon focused back on you, gently nuzzling against your outstretched hand.

Daemon looked up and slowly stood, amazed by the interaction between you and the dragon. The bond between dragon and rider was always something special, but no one ever imagined it would happen with the Cannibal. Daemon Targaryen never imagined his daughter would be the one to claim him.

“Sȳz, (good),” you praised, breaking into a giggle when the dragon dropped to the ground and rolled onto his side, playfully blowing a little air at you through his nose and knocking you backwards into the arms of your fathers, who couldn’t help but laugh along with you.

#dad Daemon #daemon Targaryen x daughter!reader #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #happynerdwrites

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the-travelling-witch · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: xiao :: kazuha :: (abyss prince!) aether :: childe x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died; [xiao] unnamed illness; [kazuha] mention of kazu's friend (tomo); [aether] somewhat graphic description of body transmutation/ body horror (just to be safe), possible deviation from khaenri'ah lore; [childe] (description of) blood, wounds, (mentions of) murder, violence over all

the loneliest- måneskin || genshin impact masterlist

a million miles away [pt. 1 - scara, venti, kaveh, zhongli]

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

"You'll be the saddest part of me A part of me that will never be mine It's obvious Tonight is gonna be the loneliest You're still the oxygen I breathe I see your face when I close my eyes It's torturous Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

Dark clouds hung over Liyue’s skies, the air heavy and oppressive. No wind swayed the trees and the afternoon was void of the sounds of chirping birds, no doubt seeking refuge from the desolation clinging to the landscape like wet clothes to skin.

Right under the towering Wangshu Inn, a group of black-clad individuals trekked through muddy grass, hardly standing out against the gloom. It was difficult to tell day from night with the sun completely blocked from view, not a single ray of light illuminating what would usually be the beauty of the Guili Planes.

Indeed, their vastness was a beauty to behold, brimming with life and chattering travellers while the delicious smell floating from Wangshu Inn’s kitchen watered the mouths of returning adventurers. Yes, it had been a long time since anything filled Xiao with so much serenity and peace as watching the sun melt into the mountain tops while you sat with him until the stars shone their light onto the two of you. Finally, after countless millennia of wandering in the dark, he had found something akin to a home.

You had picked a magnificent site as your final resting place.

When your testament had been read, your wish to be laid down in this unconventional location had shocked your friends and family. The journey all the way from Liyue Harbour to Wangshu Inn could be a treacherous and arduous one if you weren’t prepared, so concerns about visiting and maintaining your grave grew loud. Yet, with the help of the innkeeper Verr Goldet, who was well aware of how much you had treasured your time here, assuring everyone you would be well taken care of even on your next journey, your family honoured your wish.

Piercing amber eyes watched as more mortals dressed in all-black gathered for the human rite of passing near the inn. A funeral, that was what you had called it. The purpose was the same though; a life had ended and now those who mourned offered their last respects. Separating from the crowd was the figure of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor Director and although Xiao couldn’t hear what she was saying where he sat, he guessed she was commencing the ceremony. One after the other, members of your family took turns giving speeches and while he didn’t dare go within ear shot, he didn’t need to; the way people’s shoulders shook and how others went to embrace them and dabbed at their tears told him enough.

After a while, even the last of the mourners had left the funeral site and only then did featherlight feet graze the branches of the nearby tree in fleeting touches before the yaksha dropped to the ground several metres away from your grave. A shielded candle on your tomb was all that illuminated his surroundings. The sight of the tombstone rooted him in place, not sure if he should really approach you one more time.

After all, this was his fault.

As if the world agreed with him, the second Xiao set foot onto the path towards your eternal resting place, cold drops battered against his skin and, like black ink bleeding onto a page, they stained heaven and earth. Normally, the adeptus welcomed the cleansing feeling of the rain but on this day it did nothing to wash away the grief hanging heavy between tree trunks and rocks. Instead, it seemed to pull him under as it weighed down his feet and pressed down on his lungs. Still, he continued forward, driven by the need to talk to you again, even if it was only once more.

Even in this weather he could see how polished the headstone was, not at all withered by harsh conditions like the ones he’d come across before. There was no need for him to study the carved letters of your name or the lifespan that was hardly more than the blink of an eye to him, they might as well have been ingrained in his heart rather than this stone. Yet he flinched back when his fingers brushed the intricately written quote underneath.

“The connection between us is too strong to sever. So let us continue this eternal dance together.”

It was a conversation between the two of you he remembered vividly, both voices ringing clear in his ear. Back then, he had been scared by the consequences being together would have, especially for you who wasn’t meant to be exposed to karmic debt. But you had taken his hand and gently intertwined them; face-to-face with your warm smile, he didn’t find the power to pull away. So, instead, he foolishly brought you closer.

And at first, your time together was truly and genuinely perfect. Not only did you both learn a lot about the other’s way of life, you also showed him a love he never experienced before. Sure, his fellow yaksha had cared for him like a family but you held him so carefully as if he were something delicate, not a weapon but someone to be held dear. In the beginning, he was offended. Did you really think he was that fragile? When you, however, reassured him that even the strongest and bravest fighters need to be cared for, he silently melted into your embrace and soon he’d come to miss the feeling if you weren’t there to greet him.

It was only when simple colds turned into you coughing uncontrollably that his worries slapped him awake again. Despite your protests that you were fine, Xiao ushered you to see a doctor in the city. His anxieties were proven right when you came back with a crestfallen expression, barely able to utter the devastating words ‘chronic illness’.

Over weeks and months, you worked hard on all the therapies and rehabilitation methods you were given, yet despite your best effort it wasn’t enough. Your body could not fight back against what was happening to you and you grew weaker still. Another doctor’s appointment later, the word ‘fatal’ hung over your head like a sword threatening to fall any second.

Yet, in the face of your own death sentence, you remained strong. Far stronger than he ever could be. You spent more time with him, travelled more, tried things you never had the chance to before. To everyone else you portrayed a picture of dignified acceptance, still it wasn’t quite enough to hide your feelings from him. Not when he could hear your sniffles and suppressed sobs coming from the opened balcony door on yet another sleepless night. When he reached out to hold you, you hastily wiped your tears and showed him a wobbly smile, playfully chastising yourself for staying up too late.

The following day, you still woke up with him, made breakfast as he got ready to leave and pressed such a painfully loving kiss to his lips before he leapt off the balcony. Although it was something you did every day, there was still something off about it, something that gnawed at him all day. As he drove his spear through demon after demon, he couldn’t help but replay the scene over and over again, his mind jumping from bad to worse.

It didn’t prepare him for finding your unconscious body on the wooden floorboards of your shared home. Spear clattering to the floor, Xiao rushed over to cradle you against his chest but no matter how often he spoke your name, you wouldn’t come back to him. Alerted by the commotion, the innkeeper called for a doctor immediately but even then, they couldn’t do anything but confirm what everyone had dreaded.

The letter on the table didn’t catch his eye until much later. Next to it lay a woven charm made from an adepti technique he’d shown you and preserved qingxin flowers you had picked together. It was clumsy handiwork but to him it was more perfect than anything else. He was careful as he broke the letter’s seal and held the decorated paper between his gloved fingers. As he soaked up your words, Xiao felt his knees weaken and he had to take a seat before continuing to read. You thanked him for your time together, apologised for leaving early, expressed your hope to see him again one fateful day.

Even recalling it now as he stood in the chill of the rain made his head hurt, his soul feeling like it was being torn into a million directions. How could you be grateful, how could you be sorry, how could you miss the reason pain had befallen you? You should have been angry and should’ve yelled at him, hit him, hurt him, not comfort him. Not smiled at him or held him. He didn’t deserve your kindness and your warmth and your love.

Seeing your name carved in stone like this was much worse than Xiao could have imagined. It radiated a finality, an unyielding reality there was no waking up from. The sudden rush of his suppressed guilt flooded his mind and had the adeptus keeling over onto the muddy grass. There was a pounding in his head and he tugged harshly at his roots to make it stop. Despite having no need for food, he felt nauseous as he clutched his stomach with one hand while the other dug into the soil in front of your grave.

He should have known the black bonds would ensnare you too, the clutches of his karmic debt too powerful to escape. Despite knowing better, he still selfishly took your hand all that time ago. When he reached for you like a man drowning, he thought at first you were his salvation. Too late did he realise he was dragging you down into the pitch black depths with him.

In his foolishness, he had doomed you and now you had to pay the price.

The thought tore a pained sound from him, more akin to a wounded animal than anything human. By now it was hard for him to differentiate between physical and mental sensations, he couldn’t be sure whether the pain he felt was real or just his imagination. Just when it became too much to bear and black spots danced across his vision, a faint call of his name caught his attention.

“Xiao, breathe,” a comfortingly familiar voice reached through the fog of his mind and pulled him back to the surface of reality where he sharply inhaled some much needed air. “It’s okay.”

Looking around frantically, he searched for the origin of your voice just to succumb to the realisation that there was nobody there. Only the dancing flame of the candle in front of him moved during the descent of night. Unlike the damp tear tracks streaking his face, you were but a figment of his imagination.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Xiao wiped over his cheeks and rose to his feet. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers he placed a small incense burner and a jade talisman next to the silk flowers and glaze lilies left by the funeral attendees before making a fleet-footed retreat to the top of the inn.

Once again, you’d dispelled the karma threatening to overtake him when it became too overwhelming to bear. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it but he would see you again. Until then, he’d carry on with his duty and uphold his contract without falling prey to the madness within. All to be reunited with you when the time came.

When your family came to visit your grave some time later, they were positively perplexed at the pristine condition it was in. No moss covered the stone, the flowers had been replaced with vivid ones growing around your resting place and the candle had been changed out for a new one. When they asked Verr Goldet about it, the innkeeper merely smiled knowingly, reiterating that there was someone here who cared deeply for you.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

"...There's a few lines that I have wrote In case of death, that's what I want, that's what I want So don't be sad when I'll be gone There's just one thing I hope you know, I loved you so..."

The scratching of a pen filled the wooden cabin of the Alcor, the yet-to-dry ink reflecting the last golden rays of the sun. From right outside the circular window, the cries of seagulls could be heard as a flock of them returned to their nest for the night. Waves gently swayed the flagship of the Crux, the resulting sea spray carrying more salty air into the room.

Kazuha paused his writing, pen lifted over the first line of the letter as maple eyes reflected the shift of the sun from amber to a molten crimson. When it started sinking beneath the line of the horizon, he picked up a box of matches to light a candle. For a few seconds, the burnt scent of wood tickled his nose before it evaporated. Such was the nature of the world, everything must come to an end, not even eternity would change that fate; whether it was the sinking sun, the spark of a flame or the life of a treasured person.

He dipped his pen in ink once more before lifting the end to his chin in contemplation, deciding on what to fill the page with this evening. Kazuha’s eyes traced the words of the first line which were at this point engraved into his heart, then set pen to paper in practised motions.

My love,

I hope this letter finds you well.

Worry not, I’m enjoying good health myself and life on the Alcor is treating me well. Unless the crew starts drunkenly singing again; I normally do not suffer from sea sickness, however, … I leave the rest to your imagination.

Otherwise, my days have been rather quiet. Although, whenever we anchor somewhere, I’ve been granted the most beautiful of views. All the places we hoped to visit together one day, they’re as magnificent as we imagined. I wish I could show you the sceneries of Teyvat’s nations; the sunsets and sunrises, the lush forests and gurgling rivers springing from majestic waterfalls. I’m certain you’d enjoy them quite a lot.

Still, despite having seen a lot of what this world has to offer, I can confidently say, nothing compares to your beauty. Even though it has been a while since I’ve been graced by your radiance, I have no trouble recalling it before my mind’s eye. In fact, it is harder not to think of you within every waking moment and my most cherished dreams are those of you.

I see the curves of your lips in the petals of silk flowers, the brightest stars do not compare to the sparkle of your eyes and no amount of lamp grass can illuminate my nights like your smile can. When the afternoon breeze brushes my cheek I am reminded of your gentle touch, the waves whisper stories like you do while curled up by my side, the dancing glow of crystal flies is not nearly as captivating as you coming to see me.

As you can tell, you have positively enchanted me, my dear, and I find it hard to steer my thoughts in a direction which does not lead me back to you; I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, it comes as no surprise that I long for the day I will enjoy your precious company again. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to hold you in my arms again, now and forever. If I could only be granted this one wish, I truly would not yearn for anything else ever again because every moment with you feels like the calming essence my dreams are made of.

The next time we reunite, I’d be honoured to share my most recent works with you; there are quite a number of haikus, sonnets and odes you have inspired. Until then, I’d be pleased to hear from you, wherever you may currently be.

My heart belongs to you always and forever,

Kazuha

With a fond smile, the crimson-eyed samurai waited for the ink to dry before folding the letter carefully and tucking it safely away in an envelope. Reaching for the maple-leaf carved wax seal Beidou had generously gotten for him, Kazuha pressed the stamp down with measured strength. Once it had cooled sufficiently, he adoringly brushed his bandaged thumb over the seal, then turned the letter over and gracefully looped the curves of your name onto the front.

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he placed the envelope on top of the neatly stacked letters already occupying the space. Soon, he’d need to find a different place to store them, lest they quilled over. After all, there was no address they could be delivered to anymore, nobody to receive the feelings he spilled onto the page. Or maybe there was, just not on a plane of existence he could perceive.

Exhaling a tired sigh, Kazuha lifted his gaze outside his window again. There, the moon was glowing a bright white while surrounded by stars, evoking distant memories of a fluffy kitten playing amongst the flowers of an Inazuman meadow.

At the sight, he couldn’t help but wonder, were the two of you at peace? Did you meet somewhere he had yet to explore? Did you get along well? Were Tomo and you watching over him from high above, smiling to yourselves about the person he had become, the choices he made and would make? The thought filled him with peace and joy, yet also, excitement, despite the circumstances.

After all, it would mean Kazuha, too, had the possibility of joining you once his time came and that hope helped calm his heart, no matter what storm he had to face.

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

"...'Cause I don't even care about the time I've got left here The only thing I know now is that I wanna spend it With you, with you nobody else here Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

A crimson moon had risen over Khaenri’ah that night, the very foundation of the land shaking under the attacks the nation suffered. People were running for their lives on unstable footing, trying to escape the scorn of the gods, despite not knowing where -or if- they would be safe. The noise in the city was loud enough to drown out your own thoughts, cries of humans and monsters alike echoing through the smoke-filled sky.

Holding onto your hand tightly, Aether dodged several panicked people, trying not to get you caught in the chaotic mass of moving bodies as fear spread among the civilians like a plague. Both of you staggered slightly as you reached the edge of the central square when another quake of the ground sent more buildings crumbling to the ground.

After running for several more minutes and creating distance to most of the people, you stopped to catch your breath as you surveyed the destruction below. The city you had moved to was hardly recognisable, dyed in the scarlet of flames and the charcoal of smoke. In the distance, you could spot hordes of rifthounds crossing the border to Teyvat’s other nations, only further aggravating the forces of ‘divine punishment’.

Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. Even as he shut his eyes, he couldn’t keep out the flashes of light wreaking devastation on the nation. Focusing on the warmth radiating from your body, the blond let his hand wander over your arm as if to confirm you were still with him. You stood like this for a while until the loudest of the noise died out and the worst of it seemed to be over.

Or that was what he thought. Because soon thereafter, shrill shrieks coming from the city pierced his ears, pitched in an agony he had never witnessed before. Not on any world he had visited in the past had a sound chilled his blood and made his skin crawl from the sheer terror it conveyed. It was a chorus of voices drifting up from below, contorted in both confusion and pain.

Frozen in shock, Aether barely felt you twitching in his arm until it turned to full-body spasms and you wrangled free from his embrace. Stumbling backwards, you clutched your head and doubled over, barely able to stand on your own feet as groans of discomfort started straining into screams as well. If he thought it was nightmarish before, seeing the person he loved scratch down their own face in torment while their voice grew hoarse from screeching in pure misery was indescribably cruel.

Reaching out to do something, anything, to help, he heard the first sickening crack of what could only be bones and his stomach dropped a little lower every time the sound echoed through the dreadful night. By the time it stopped, Aether suppressed the urge to throw up the acid in his stomach to relieve the nausea which had overcome him.

But still, that sensation was nothing compared to the ice cold dread washing over him when instead of you, a small haggard creature with a large mask covering its entire face stood in your place. It was dizzy and disoriented, yet, as soon as Aether made a move towards, it clumsily scurried away from him.

Looking down into the centre of the city, he saw a large number of strange creatures of all sizes swarm the place as the people around them dove out of their way. Overall though, the number of entities didn’t seem to have changed and there was simply no way these strange beings could have switched places with the civilians this quickly. Surely, it couldn’t be…

In a small voice, he called your name and watched as the masked creature cautiously studied him before taking a single step in his direction. A falling piece of debris hit the ground near the two of you and, quick as lightning, the thing flinched back and ran to the square where most of them had gathered, ignoring his calls to wait.

The events of that night still replayed in his mind and haunted him when he closed his eyes. Oftentimes, he’d wake with a start, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for air, startling his then travelling companion Dainsleif on more than one occasion. How could he ever forget the strangled cries ripped from your throat as you were transformed into what was now known as a hilichurl for no fault of your own.

After the catastrophe, it soon became clear that both the transformation and the immortality placed upon the people of Khaenri’ah were a curse by the gods, led by the Heavenly Principles, as retribution for the nation’s sins. But you had done nothing wrong; neither had most of the people affected. You merely moved to a place not ruled over by the gods. You were not deserving of any punishment; it was the epitome of injustice.

Over time, and despite Dainsleif’s strongly principled company, Aether’s grief slowly withered away and gave birth to frustration, anger and a certain yearning for revenge. That corrupted seed was nourished by every bloody hilichurl mask he came across on their travels, not wanting to think about what that could imply. The rest of Teyvat wasn’t even aware of the fate their beloved gods had doomed Khaenri’ahns to; to them, his fellow people were merely monsters to be slain.

First the Heavenly Principles separated him from his sister and then they took away the one person he found comfort in, who gave him stability and hope for the future. In a sickened way the thought drove him forward. Whether it was to move against the Heavenly Principles or find a way to break the curse, he needed to do something. Even if breaking the curse would reveal what he feared every time he saw a rotted out hilichurl camp to be true, he’d endure it better than the uncertainty gnawing at his stomach.

So, to his own shock, he wasn’t surprised by how quickly he warmed up to Clothar Alberich’s proposal of establishing a new organisation of Khaenri’ahns, who were able to retain their self-awareness, and aiming to topple the divine thrones. To enact his own justice upon the world, which cruelly brought its own down on him, Aether would do anything.

He’d even become the Prince of the Abyss.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

"...And I just keep on thinking how you made me feel better And all the crazy little things that we did together In the end, in the end, it doesn't matter If tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

The stench of blood hung in the air, the taste of iron filled the Harbinger’s mouth every time he breathed in. His left eye was only partially opened as the skin around a nasty cut on his temple swole up. It would certainly bruise, perhaps even leave a scar if it went uncared for, yet he hardly spared it a second thought.

As he moved to take out the last of his enemies still standing, the edges of his torn clothes dragged through the underlying wounds and ripped open those the fabric had clung to as they started building crusts. Childe’s breathing was ragged from both physical strain and a severe blow to his rib cage, one of them probably broken by the impact. Well, this wasn’t supposed to be a one person job after all.

But all his work had been so incredibly dull recently, so he purposely sent his subordinates to the wrong location and moved in alone, just to feel the thrill of battle. Normally, a battle in which the opponent was strong enough to wound him to this degree would shoot adrenaline straight through his veins, yet, it felt like nothing but a chore to him. No pride, no joy followed him as he dragged his damp shoes through the scarlet puddles on the cave floor, not even flinching at the cracking sound as he stepped on what he presumed to be someone’s hand. He didn’t care enough to look down.

The way back to Liyue Harbour was uneventful. Those who showed their faces learned pretty quickly that Childe wasn’t to be trifled with if they valued their lives and it wasn’t long before he dropped from the roof of Northland Bank, startling the Fatui Soldiers currently switching shifts.

“M-My Lord,” one of them stammered as her eyes snapped from the tattered scarf to the droplets staining his hair a darker shade of red to the various gashes littering his body. “Your subordinates have been search–”

The Harbinger dismissed her with a mere wave of his hand and motioned for them to open the door. The two quickly scrambled to oblige, their frightened eyes still clinging to his back as he strode through the pristine halls of Northland bank, bloody footprints leaving a trail to his office. Other staff members on duty practically jumped out of his way with a simple glance at his usually bright face, fearing they’d end up as another stain on his sullied uniform.

Dropping into the chair behind the heavy oak desk while heaving a deep sigh, Childe discarded the scuffed red mask before sliding his gloved hand down his face, wincing as he put pressure on his fresh cut. Eventually he tipped his head back with a low groan.

The stale silence of paperwork and files was oppressive, adding to the pressure pounding through his skull. A tiny, rational voice in his head scolded him that this kind of reckless behaviour needed to end, that he was destroying himself. But the crazed part of his brain pushed back hard against the painful familiarity and steered his mind far away from every possible memory associated with it.

Casting his eyes down on the tabletop, he felt his mood sour even more at the fresh stack of letters waiting to be opened. Among the countless Fatui sigils, one particular envelope caught his eyes though; one with the address scribbled in childish handwriting.

Discarding his crimson-dyed gloves and picking his siblings’ letter from the pile with slow fingers, Childe opened it with careful motions. Instantly, a light flutter stirred in his chest at their antics, the stories they told from home and the instances where Teucer definitely pestered Tonia into including a certain detail.

The curve of his smile dropped when his eyes landed on the last part of the letter. Under his tightening grip, the letter he cherished so much before started to crumble and crease as his expression hardened again.

“Ajax, when are you bringing your partner again? You mentioned that they liked the dish mom made last time they visited, so I practised really hard to make it for them the next time. We’re really looking forward to seeing them again! Also mom asks when you’re getting married but I told her to be patient.”

As he stared down the words like they had personally wrong him, he didn’t notice the blood droplet running down the tip of his hair before it fell onto the letter. Childe watched as the red mixed with black, wetting the ink until the curves of your name had disappeared into nothingness, much like you had. One moment there, the next… gone.

In a moment of clarity, which came far too late, the ginger wiped frantically at the letter, trying to retrieve you but it was no use. By the time he stopped, the entire paragraph was smudged in a greyish smear of red and black.

Dropping the scarlet letter, Childe supported his lead-heavy head on his hands as he dropped forward, hunching over his desk in defeat. This time it wasn’t blood which wetted his palms but salty tears, the first ones he’d shed since your passing.

It felt as if someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto his shoulders as the glass he kept his feelings in broke and they flooded his consciousness like waves crashing onto a small fisher boat.

Almost, Childe could feel the grip of your hand in his as you were running across Liyue’s Planes, away from the chaos by his own design, your excited laughter mingling with his own until you fell into the soft grass next to each other. Or how you'd huddled together for warmth under the starry skies of his home, steaming mugs clutched in your hands. He could vividly remember how you brushed away his bangs to press a searing kiss to his temple, eyes so full of love as you looked into his.

But what did it matter now? Why look back when you weren’t next to him anymore? When he couldn’t hold you anymore or bring you back home to meet his family? The family you would have become a part of?

All at once, his wounds started to burn and ache, every breath felt like he was dying as his broken ribs expanded and sunk around his lungs. His mouth tasted bitter with blood and he fought to keep his lunch down. He cringed at the sticky feeling of exudate running down his temple and trickling into the corners of his eyes, glueing his lashes together as he blinked. Even now, you were still right. He was destroying himself. But this time, you weren’t there to stop him.

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader #genshin angst #xiao x reader #xiao angst #genshin impact xiao #kazuha x reader #kazuha angst #genshin impact kazuha #aether x reader #aether angst #genshin impact aether #childe x reader #childe angst #genshin impact childe

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yourfatherlucifer · 8 months

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Hello! Can I pls request a smut with siren!seonghwa? He's holding you captive and he refuses to let you leave him so he's constantly trying to worship you and entice you with his song?

Siren!Seonghwa x afab!pirate!reader

Summary: ⬆️⬆️

Warnings: NSFW MDNI, mention of abuse, death, sex with a siren, blood. Seonghwa is intimidating and mean. Mentions of breeding.

My first siren fic, so here goes nothing! Thanks for 800 followers!

So- after writing this, I realized I went completely off course from the request I’m so sorry, if you want me to rewrite it I can.

The sea looked beautiful in the night, the moonlight reflecting against the ocean.

The blue and white hues shone magnificently.

Your captain approached with you a grin on his face, “You’re always out here, so late at night. You love the ocean that much?”

His hand was placed onto your shoulder, “Of course, Hongjoong. You know I do, every time I see it, it’s like the first time witnessing it all over again.”

You grinned back at him, “Thanks again Hongjoong, for everything. You saved me from a life of misfortune that day.”

You could recall the very day Captain Kim Hongjoong and his crew saved your life and brought you aboard the Illusion.

You were a runaway princess, cliché, I know. But you were a hated princess, by your own family. You were unwanted. Your parents despised you. Your siblings hated you. You had done nothing wrong of course, you were the only one loved by the royal court and the people of the kingdom. For some reason that made your family hate you, the people hated your family. Of course, they didn’t know of the abuse you had to endure everyday.

The beatings taken by your father, whipped daily, your back was scarred. You were such a beauty to the townspeople, you were kind to them, unlike your family who let their power go to their heads. Being the youngest meant you were neglected from the time you were born. Your mother hated you from the time you set foot into this world. She was jealous, jealous of the beauty that radiated from you.

You could take the beatings anymore, so you invested in the help of the people of the kingdom.

You were to runaway from the hell you lived in.

The day you were gonna leave, the kingdom was attacked by the worlds most dangerous pirates, Ateez. You had taken this opportunity to make a run for it, but your older brother held you back. He was gonna use you as a human shield.

As tears poured down your face, you realized your family really didn’t care, I mean despite the beatings, you had an ounce of hope that they cared.

But they proved you wrong with this.

You were face to face with a pirate, sword pointed your way, the blade mere inches away.

“Oh? You’d sacrifice your sister just to live, Prince?” The man cackled, a sinister grin plastered on his face.

“Shut up, measly pirate! This is our kingdom! I can do as I please!” Your brother gripped your arms from behind very tightly, creating dark bruises.

You cried out in pain, “please, Kai, don’t do this!”

The captain could see the bruises and scars that littered your arms.

He pressed his blade closer to your brother, “Do you abuse her, Prince?”

Kai scoffed, “So what if I do? She’s my sister! I can do as I please, you scum!” He spat.

The captain nodded before lowering his sword.

Before Kai could even process what was happening, you were pulled in the captains arms and his blade was forced through Kai’s abdomen.

In complete shock and pain, he fell to the floor, gripping his now bleeding stomach, the blood was everywhere.

“Y/N, help me.” He cried out.

You stared at him before burying your face in the neck of the man who saved you.

“Y/N! You’re a trai,” cough, “-tor!”

Your brother finally collapsed to the floor and died, you were free. You didn’t care what was happening to the rest of your family.

All that mattered was you were free.

A hand waved in front of you, “Y/N? You’re day dreaming again.” The voice chuckled.

“Just remembering how we met, Joong, that’s all.”

“You know, I never do thank you enough for that.”

“You do. Plenty of times. Please stop.”

You laughed with him, “Okay, okay.”

You truly were glad.

You walked away from him and headed below deck, bringing yourself to the kitchen area.

You passed by one of your crew mates, Wooyoung, he was snacking on an apple.

With a raised brow you laughed, “Jongho is so gonna kill you.”

Wooyoung shrugged, “When is he not?”

“Whatever you say, Woo.”

After grabbing something to eat, you brought yourself back up-deck. You liked to stargaze when you couldn’t sleep. And it was a particularly beautiful night to do so.

You didn’t see anyone on deck anymore, they all must’ve gone to sleep. Except for Yunho, the second in command, who was steering the ship, more or less keeping an eye so the ship doesn’t crash or get attacked.

You loved this new family of yours. Of course, they were all men, but that didn’t mean anything to you. They loved you like a sister, they were brothers you never had, or well, wish you had. Your bruises had long faded and all that was left were the scars. But it made you look tough. Like the pirate you are. You knew the people of your former kingdom mourned only you. You knew they held a funeral for you when only your ‘family’ held a funeral for your brother.

You had heard the rumors of your death. They circulated everywhere. In a way, you did die that die. Your princess self had died.

A new you was born that day.

—

Hongjoong had docked the ginormous ship against an island, an outpost, to sell some new riches and to rest from the sea.

You had taken this time to wander, your sword on your hip for your protection.

After walking for about 15 minutes, you found a little cove, the ocean leaking into it.

It was a nice cove. The entrance had a triangular shape to it, the sun barely passing through. It was secluded off to the rest of the island, which was nice. You needed a break away from the all the men you call your family.

Seeing a ledge, you marched over to it. After sitting down you peeled off your boots, pushed up the edges of your trousers up. Then dipping your feet in the water. It felt really nice and relaxing, already your mind was off everything.

You could hear the water sloshing while your eyes were closed, but you paid no mine, it was daytime and the most it could be was a fish being curious.

That was until you felt a pull on your feet.

You yelped, pulling your feet out of the water and to your chest. “What the hell!”

A head slowly peered from underneath the water. A tousle of black hair and brown eyes appeared. Staring at you in curiosity, it inched closer.

“Stop! Stop where you are!” You yelled out in fear.

No one was here to save you, that was when your remembered you had your trusty sword on your waist.

As you reached for it the voice spoke out, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His head was now fully out of the water.

“What are you?” You backed away from the water.

The male rolled his eyes, “Seriously? You’re a pirate and you have no clue what I am?”

His chuckle reverberated around the cove walls.

His arms rested against the ledge, water falling from the muscular forearms.

“I’m a siren. Y’know, I lead sailors and pirates alike to their deaths with my voice?” He grinned.

You backed up even further, your back hitting the cold and wet wall.

“Is that what your here to do?” You gulped nervously.

He grinned at your fearful expression, “Well no, I have other plans for you.” He pulled himself up from the water, his tail transforming into legs, leaving him naked.

“It’s breeding season for sirens.”

Your eyes grew to the size of saucers, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I’m going to breed you, and you’re going to give me children,” his cold expression did nothing to erase your fear, in fact it made it worse.

“But I- I can’t do that. I’ve never-“

“I know. That’s why I chose you. We need pure people to breed. You know, I’ve been watching you. You must really like that Captain. You have the hots for him, but unfortunately. He doesn’t for you.” He shrugs.

“So, I know your name is Y/N, I’m Seonghwa.”

“You are gonna let me breed you, right? I’m not just gonna take it from you. Unfortunately, I need consent to breed with a human.” Seonghwa sighed, still inches from you.

You were scared nonetheless, but he was attractive, you were curious about sex, never having the time to try it out, and everyone but Hongjoong was like a brother to you. You couldn’t lie either, you were in love with him, but knew he only saw you as a sister.

You glanced at the ethereal siren in front of you.

“I..I suppose I consent then.”

You shyly looked away, “How..how do we do this?”

Seonghwa beamed with happiness, “Really? Just let me lead.

Seonghwa stood there bare before slowly approaching you. His hands on your waist, “As much as I would to take this slow for you, I’ve been dying to have children.”

He pulled off your little blouse, throwing it somewhere near the water.

“I see enough of these everyday underwater, but yours,” he grips your breasts in his arms, “are perfect for me.”

Your eyes shut right from the sudden pleasure you had felt. It was a great feeling, something you’ve never felt before.

“Seonghwa..”

He chuckled, “We’re just getting started.”

—

He brought down to the cold and wet ground of the cove, “That’s it, just relax. I can’t wait to breed you.”

Seonghwa dives his face into your neck, inhaling your human scent. It was delightful for him, but he wasn’t here to eat you. He was here to make his children.

He rubbed himself against your pooling heat, he wanted to just fuck up into you but he need to prepare you. Siren cocks weren’t normal or average sized at all. He could rip you in half if he wasn’t careful.

So, with said thoughts he brought one finger forward first, pushing it deeply within.

You moaned at the intrusion, it was definitely painful, having no experience.

“I- please, slow down.” You cried out, grabbing his wrist when he added two more fingers.

All he did was smack you hand off his wrist and continued plundering your arousal.

“I can’t, but you’re ready now.”

He removed his fingers, shaking the fluid off his fingers, he had no interest in it.

Guiding his monster-sized cock to your entrance, he pushed in, groaning at the feeling.

“Ah, my first human. This is delightful.” He smirked before he began his rampage into you.

There was nothing to grip onto, you were too afraid to hold onto him, “Ah, ah, please! I can’t take it!” You cried out for him to stop, you felt great, but his size had hurt. You were ruined for anyone else.

Seonghwa shook his head, “I can’t stop now, I’m almost there. I need to have this.”

His hands fell to either side of your head as he continued his rough pace, grunting into your ear.

Skinslapping echoed throughout the cove.

Soon enough he finally reached his peak, not even letting you reach yours, he came, his seed painting everything inside.

He picked himself up before pulling out. “It is done.”

You couldn’t move, everything hurt and you now had siren seed flowing to your uterus.

Seonghwa grabbed your wrist, “Now that you have my kin inside of you. I cannot let you leave.”

Soon his eery, yet beautiful voice filled your ears and your world faded around you.

Nothing would be the same again.

#ateez x reader #ateez #seonghwa #park Seonghwa x reader #siren Seonghwa #monster ateez #Seonghwa x reader #Seonghwa smut #ateez smut

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lokiandbuckysdoll · 6 months

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𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹𝓈 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒫𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇

Summary: Loki Holds all the power in his hand when he wants you.

Pairing: Loki x Plus-sized! Reader

Word count: 844

Warnings: 18+!! SMUT!, IMPACT PLAY KINK! ( well my attempt at it lmao) Spanking, DOM! Loki. Use of a flogger. Language, unprotected sex.

A/N: My first kinktober fic. I hope you enjoy this. As always let me know if I missed tagging something!. Kinktober23 list

From the minute you walked into the room, he had his eyes on you, and as you drew nearer to him, they followed every step you took. His desire for you increased as a result of the intoxicating scent of your perfume. Loki looks down at the garment that hugs your body and contours flawlessly.

His eyes lock onto yours as you raise your head to meet them. "Darling, you look delectable tonight, I just want to ruin you." He pulls off your dress with a flick of his fingers. He was naked from the waist up and stood tall. He stretched his stance, a perfect arc of long limbs from his heavy boots leading to the top of his huge cock. Signature leather tights rested snug to his firmly formed hips. His hands traced the contours of your figure, feeling each line for signs of resistance. He couldn't locate any.

"Take me, my prince," you said as he placed his palms on the curve of your ass, which had been peeking out from his favorite panties on you. "Mhm, I think I just might have too," He said, as he became transfixed on your sallow eyes that were looking up at him.

When your palm was turned upward and cupped his rigid length through the cloth covering it, he tipped his head back and gasped in pleasure. He slowly backed away from you as his eyes tore through your body. He was aware of your previously existing wetness, slickness, and readiness for a full-on fuck.

A long flogger emerged within his right palm, which blazed. He wielded it like a weapon, the lashes enclosed in dark green leather and glinted in the firelight as it stretched towards you.

The rough leather caressed your face, delicately tapping you once. His eyes glinted as he slid the tool between your breasts, assessing your obedience. "Turn around, my dear, hands down…ass up." His rich voice, filled with sensual need, shot a rush through you, leaving you wet and longing for his touch.

As he pulled his rapid attack through to completion, the flogger hurt vibrantly on the delicate flesh. As you prepared for the next wonderful stroke, you caught sight of the god's backhand out of the corner of your eye; Thwack

Each one pushed you farther into the bed. As he marked you again and again, his unrestrained hand found its way to the bottom of your back, cursing dirty insults that made you tighten. Your mind raced; Thwack

As he took his fill, you whimpered like a whore against the covers. He was lethargic. Purposeful. loving each flawlessly timed measure of his dominance's theatrics.

You wanted to be satisfied with the blistering heat inside you more than anything, for his magnificent cock to comfort you from within and out; Thwack

"Only a couple of more, my Love…you're performing so well," he said softly as he reached down to kiss your backside. He moved his long fingers along your curves and reached your yearning cunt, his name spilled from your lips, increasing to the origin of pleasure which he knew so well.

You felt like you were floating on air, engulfed in the pleasure and agony of his every touch. As he took his hand away from you, the angle altered dramatically. As he unfastened his pants and gripped both of his hands onto your hipbones, the flogger slipped to the floor. His breath caressed your face as he pressed his chest against your back. "Give in to me now, my little slut," he hissed as he slipped his cock into you from behind. "Come around your master's cock, envelope me in your devotion…" His voice got raspy as you gasped, finally feeling him inside of you.

Loki's speed quickened with each thrust, and he lifted his palm and placed a harsh slap on your redden ass as his sperm spurted into your urgently keening cunt as you longed for the pressure his pelvic thrusts offered. "Fuck.. Yes right there, darling!" he thrust one last time, and you fell over the edge with a strangled shout of your prince's name. You both dropped onto the bed, exhausted. As he wrapped you in his arms and kissed you tenderly, his moist hair fell into your eyes.

"Darling, this was phenomenal…" he breathed as you kissed him on the neck. His chest vibrated with heavy breaths, and the salt of his sweat that accumulated on his muscles clung to your lips as you kissed him again. "We certainly must do this again."

"I agree," you giggled, the comforting afterglow of your climax calming the stinging feeling on your lower body. "It felt amazing, but my ass is sore now" He chuckled darkly as he twisted over you, trapping you to the bed as his hair fell to your face and your waiting lips.

"I know a different thing that might be able to ease your mind of the soreness" He declared lustily over you, as he began to kiss his way down your abdomen.

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 28 days

Text

A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world of world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

word count: 2.4k

Chapter One

Her first mistake had been slowing down to have a second look. Three plus years with a vintage car enthusiast (her ex now, thank god; three months gone and good riddance to him, her mantra whenever he crossed her mind) had ingrained the habit in her. The habit, frankly, plus an appreciative eye for the sweetest of rides. Thanks to Simon (and his obsession), she could distinguish in seconds between the genuine article and that which easily fooled the masses, a cunningly detailed replica—and the sleek ragtop that looked to have skidded to the side of the road, leaving a spray a gravel and black, burnt rubber in its tracks, was absolutely the real thing.

So she’d slowed down, only half meaning to, cataloguing the fine details and quickly estimating its worth, while admiring its classic lines and the bright flash of its chrome detailings. Seraphina couldn’t keep from grinning, thinking about how instantly covetous Simon would be in the face of such a find, and how jealous he would feel to know that she had stumbled upon it with no effort whatsoever.

The man bending over the open hood

straightened as she passed, arresting her attention with a commanding, steely gaze that left her feeling like a marked woman. As though he not only saw her, in her every visible feature, but somehow inexplicably knew her—and needed her. Vitally, and immediately. Despite the lick of common sense apprehension that fluttered through her vitals, simple curiosity and a deeply embedded tendency to act the good Samaritan had Seraphina making her second, even bigger, mistake of the afternoon--pulling over to park her hovercraft several feet in front of his stalled vehicle.

She looked into her rearview mirror; he had turned to watch how she would proceed, holding his hands up with his fingers splayed wide, surely his way of expressing she could approach him safely. “Not so fast, buddy,” she murmured, “I wasn’t born yesterday…and I’ve seen your kind before.” Sera cut the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition and flicking the lock mechanism off the small can of mace dangling from her keyring. She wasn’t so foolhardy as to face the tall, well-built stranger unprepared; nearly a decade of travels up and down the coast of California, performing in seedy, small town dives, then upscale pubs and bars, and finally city nightclubs, had taught her well to be ever on her guard.

And she’d learned a few tricks in the course of her career, for if the mace should fail; she could—and had—flipped a drunk onto his back a time or two, who’d tried to cop a feel when she passed across a darkened dancefloor; and she knew all too well how much force was necessary, knee to groin, in order to incapacitate those pigheaded brutes who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when they followed her out to the parking lot at the end of a gig. Handsome he might be (decidedly so, she mused, angular features, piercing eyes, thick, dark hair, an errant lock strayed upon his brow; such a striking combination!) but she was not fool enough to ever judge the book by it’s cover.

The stranger stood motionless a moment more, the light breeze ruffling that wayward lock until he brushed it back, a swift yet languid move that spoke of cat-like grace and an elegance that didn’t fit the setting or the way that he was clothed. He was straight-backed, slim-hipped, long-legged--and poised with a confidence befitting a prince, and not the work-a-day posture of a blue-collar joe or road-weary drifter. Yet the smile he gave her did not reach his eyes; Sera found it a little feral, and felt her pulse increase as a taste of adrenaline—that trusty “fight or flee” response—hit her system.

But she was already committed, having left the safety and cool comfort of her two-seater; if he was an actual threat, the worse that she could do was show the weakness of timidity now. Sera left her sunglasses in place, determined he would not read a bit of doubt in her eyes or bearing, the can of mace tucked neatly in the palm of her left hand, and walking forward into the dry, baking, Mojave Desert heat.

Sera gave a low but audible whistle, advancing as casually as she could, finally calling out to him, "She's a real beauty--and someone's taken serious loving care of her too." The 300-year-old Mustang appeared as close to mint as any vintage vehicle she had ever seen; given its obvious value, she had to wonder why the hell he would even have it on the road--especially in desert conditions. That instinctive voice of warning sounded an answer in her head: that's because it's not his.

Okay, Sera, she cautioned herself, give him the benefit of the doubt; he could have come by that automobile in any number of ways. She stopped a half-dozen steps from where the stranger stood, aiming to read his reaction as she asked, "Early 21st century, right?"

The man smiled--more sincerely this time--and nodded. "That she is," he replied, sparing a brief look at the stalled car, "Unfortunately, she's not going anywhere, anytime soon." His smooth, deep voice was as pleasant to the ears as his form was easy on his eyes, and his accent distinctly British, leaving Sera to ponder how and why he'd found his way into the midst of the Mojave. "I believe it's the transmission," he added.

In an instant, his eyes flicked downward, as though he registered that small, innocuous movement. She rushed to fill the vacuum of silence that hung between them, hoping to distract him from whatever suspicions her little move might have awakened. “I know collectors,” she told him, running her right hand through her hair, fluffing it a bit, hoping to draw his eyes upwards again “…fanatical ones, who would pay a small fortune to make such a treasure theirs.” She leaned toward him, adopting a confidential tone, honest in her curiosity, “However did you manage it?”

Sera could hear the tick of the internal combustion engine as it cooled, informing her he hadn't been stranded long. Surveying the area behind the Mustang, she spotted several telltale puddles of transmission fluid in the car's wake. "Looks like you might've blown a hose," she speculated, indicating the fluid spotting the back trail. "Those kind of parts are few and far between these days...but I bet we can find a mechanic who might be able to juryrig something enough to get you on the road again."

She turned back to find him watching her, his exotic-looking eyes narrowed. Appraising her in a way that made her feel...exposed. Unnerved. Vulnerable. Sera squeezed her hand against the reassuring weight of the small, defensive weapon cupped in her palm.

He inhaled sharply, a fleeting look of calculation crossing his face. “It was an unexpected…” he paused, studying her carefully, “…but well-timed acquisition of…convenience.” Such a reply was far too vague to answer her question—but didn’t surprise her in the least.

“Then you must be a man of remarkable luck, Mr…” Sera let her voice trail off with the question, fully expecting there would be little truth in his answer.

And then he was moving past the safe cushion of space between them, extending a large, powerful looking hand towards her, as way of introduction. “Harrison. I’m…John Harrison.” His grip was firm, not too tight, but Sera sensed—felt—a strength restrained that fit his bearing perfectly. Intimidating, but not frightening; confident—and intriguing her beyond her good sense should allow; and his eyes were locked on her, regarding her with such curiosity and healthy appraisal, that she slipped her sunglasses atop her head without a moment’s hesitation, meaning to meet his gaze directly.

Sera hadn’t realized she was staring until he cleared his throat. “And you are?” he asked, smiling warmly, surely feeling the advantage now of having gotten past her bravado. Her mouth felt dry—it had to be the arid atmosphere and not embarrassment over her awkward reaction to him--so that her tongue actually stuck a moment before she stammered out her name. “Seraphina.” She said it rather breathlessly, then bit her lip against revealing her surname.

Harrison had not released her hand, although his grip was gentle, and the warmth of his skin pleasant against her own. “Seraphina,” he repeated, the small smile creases bracketing his mouth deepening, and a hint of his true smile finally reaching his eyes. “Lovely name, Seraphina. Exotic in its way, and as rare and fetching as a desert rose.”

Ordinarily, Sera would laugh off such obvious flattery; she’d had enough of it--and insincere at that--throughout her years as a torch singer. This stranger—John Harrison—looked a better class of man than those who usually tried to ply her with compliments. That was no reason, of course, to take him more seriously than any of the others. And yet she felt a sort of…solemnity…about him; a dignity and self-assurance that spoke of a far more purposeful life than those of plain, ordinary men. He was damned attractive too, enough to have her a bit flummoxed at so dear a distance.

"Seraphina,” he reiterated, teasing the syllables along, the depth and richness of his voice making her shiver a little despite the desert heat. “A derivative of seraphim, the highest order of celestial beings in religious myth. Heavenly, fiery, winged immortals, tasked with surrounding and praising the throne of god.” He leaned nearer, well past that unspoken barrier of personal space, closing his eyes while inhaling deeply through his nose, seeming to seek her essence by scent alone.

Such unexpected intimacy left Seraphina speechless, every instinct she had telling her to give ground a step or two—yet she remained still, for when he opened his eyes, she found herself fascinated by their changing hue. Seraphina had never seen such striking eyes on a man before; and she’d have sworn that they were blue. Pale blue when she’d seen them from a distance, in the bright, unfiltered sun; then a surprising, piercing, azure when she met him face to face. Now they seem to shift unpredictably from purely blue to nearly green with however the light played upon them, with flecks of gold speckling around the pupils.

“I wonder,” he mused, almost to himself, while Sera remained entranced and silent, unable to look away despite knowing she must look utterly foolish, “Might you be the angel of mercy I’m in such desperate need of?”

Befuddled, Sera sputtered back, "I...um...what?", finally taking a step back and pulling her hand from his grasp.

"I mean to say how fortunate I am, you came along precisely as you did. " Harrison shrugged and took a step back as well, his manner self-effacing enough to lend sincerity to his words. "And that your nature is a kind one--I imagine most women would have cruised by without a care for my predicament, given this isolated location and the potential threat I could embody."

Regaining her composure, Sera lifted her chin proudly, "I've managed to look after myself for many years now, and in dodgier situations." Her usual insoucience restored, she asked the most vital of questions, looking him squarely in the eyes to read the truth before he even answered, "Do I have reason to fear for my safety, Mr. Harrison?"

His eyes widened and he grinned, and then he began to laugh. Heartfelt, and deep in his throat; the rich sound of melted, dark chocolate--the rare sort of sweet that was supposed to be healthy for one, but only if consumed in moderation. A woman could lose herself in such a laugh, she realized, and I'll bet he knows it too.

"If there was any reason at all, you've quite disarmed me already." Now it seemed he was sizing her up beyond first impressions--and liking what he saw, by the look of satisfaction on his face. "I promise you, Ms..."

"It's just Seraphina for now please, if it's all the same to you. " Sera pressed her lips thin against the smile that wanted to break forth, enjoying both his unspoken surprise at her overall boldness--and what she dared to believe was an appreciation for her physical charms.

Harrison acquiesced with a tilt of his head. "Then I promise you, pretty Seraphina, that I harbor no ill intent towards you. And I would be deeply indebted to you for the aid I am sure you intend to offer me."

She felt her cheeks flush at his easy compliment--not taken in, but happy to accept it nonetheless. "Well, it's a shame to have to abandon her here, but the closest hope you have for a spare part--and a mechanic with working knowledge of antique cars--is at least a hundred miles away."

"Alright then," he affirmed, moving past her to slam shut the Mustang's hood, "We should probably be on our way."

"Of course." Sera turned to follow him, wanting a closer look at the rare vehicle before they drove away. "You should put the top up too; you may not make it back here until tomorrow at least."

He nodded again, striding to the driver's side door to start the car and raise the top. Something not quite right here, she thought, frowning; I could swear that this model and the ones that followed, had a remote on the key fob to control the mechanism. It reminded her that she'd initially thought the car did not belong to him--and that somehow she had allowed his charm cause her to lower her guard.

She stepped to the passenger side, hoping for a peek inside to confirm her growing suspicion. "You ought to raise the windows, too," she told him, leaning close enough to peer inside the passenger side window, "No telling what might find its way inside here once darkness falls. It gets pretty cold here at night..." Sera swallowed hard when she got a look at the ignition cylinder; it had been removed from its place beneath the steering wheel and hung down by several wires. The wires themselves appeared to have been rearranged.

Her heart in her throat, Seraphina searched her memory for the word to describe exactly what she was seeing. Hotwired. That's what they called it; a quick and easy way to boost a car. Simon had educated her, marveling at the skill of those he'd read about who could do do in under a minute. She'd never dreamed of seeing something like it up close. Yet there it was, and the man who'd done it clearly hadn't wanted her to see it. Which meant...

He was faster than her by far; almost preternaturally fast. Harrison had grabbed her left arm ( --- damn, he had noted she was carrying something there! --- ) through the window opening, his iron grip digging into her flesh painfully. "Drop it," he ordered her, "Drop it now. I can explain everything if you just remain calm, Seraphina."

She didn't mean to, but she whimpered softly, not only at the discomfort he was inflicting, but also for the cold menace in his eyes. Had she thought them beautiful, compelling, alluring, just moments ago? Now it seemed to her they were the deadliest eyes she had seen in her life.

(to be continued)

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absurdthirst · 6 months

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Kinktober 2023: October 23rd

Day 23: Breeding/Impregnation, Fancy Dress, Frottage

Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of bastards, sex work, breeding, pregnancy, vaginal sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Perfect.” His hands slide over your skin, making you shiver as he continues to stare at you. His dark eyes assess you. Stepping back and raking them up and down your body when he tilts his head and reaches out to cup both of your breasts. Weighing them in his hands and you bite your lip to keep from moaning softly.

Then those hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them, measuring them. “Yes. Nice hips.” He smirks, obviously thinking of something as you stand in front of him, completely nude. “Wide enough for my plans.”

You’ve slept with him before. Fucked him everytime that he has come through your city. Preferring your bed over the brothels, but tonight he was acting differently. HIs kisses had been more urgent, sharper. His hands were more insistent as he had stripped you down.

“Plans?” Your brows arch up, unsure of what the fuck he was talking about. You know that lords get away with anything. They were never held to the same standards as their lessers, allowed to speak and act as they chose as long as it wasn’t to anyone above them. For most, that was the King. For Oberyn, that was seemingly no man.

For a second son, Prince Oberyn did not act like others. He was rash, reckless. Spreading his pleasure all over Westeros. Having already been banished by his brother for killing another lord in a fight after being found in bed with the man’s wife and his mistress. It’s said he was father to two bastard daughters. He claimed them. He acknowledged them and brought them to Sunspear. Not hidden away like sordid secrets.

Oberyn hums, pursing his lips and trailing his fingers back up your body to slide up your neck. The ring on his finger is warm from his body and he taps it against your chin. “You will look magnificent dripping my seed.”

That is not something that is unusual, Oberyn is a very sensual, adventurous lover. He often wants what he wants, but he’s not one to deny you pleasure. All of your time together is spent in different positions, different experiences.

“Then I will prepare my tea.” You hum, surprised when he shakes his head.

“No.” He decides, “no tea.”

“My prince….” You are at a loss for words, unable to understand what exactly he means by this. You are aware that the prince is unmarried, you had asked that before you had ever allowed him in your bed. You do not wish to bed a married man. It’s not like you are ever the type of woman the Prince of Dorne would be allowed to marry. You don’t have that kind of influence. “If I don’t-” “You might have my bastard.” Oberyn hums easily, almost slippery. As if it is something that he has already thought of and dismissed as inconsequential. “You might be barren.”

You frown at his comment. “I have my monthly.” You protest but he shrugs.

“Sometimes a healthy woman cannot bear a child despite that.” He tells you, reminding you that he had spent a few years training as a maester. He smirks, “however I feel as if you will easily take my seed and grow a child.”

“Why?” You can’t understand why Oberyn would want you to carry his child. Especially when he obviously does not want a wife, nor need a legitimate heir.

He growls, a deep sound vibrating through his chest as he slides his hand down to your stomach. Hold your womb. “I want to fill your belly with my bastard. To see you grow with my child and know that it is resting in your womb.” He groans, shuffling closer and pressing the throbbing evidence of his desire against your bare hip. “It excites me. Makes me want to bend you over right now and fuck you full of my seed.”

You moan, his filthy words making your cunt clench and drip with desire. You don’t know why it sounds so intriguing. You had never thought about carrying a babe, studiously taking your tea when you were with a lover. “And what of the child?” You ask. Plenty of nobles had no issue creating the bastards they had. They just had no use for them once their interest in their mother waned. “What of me?”

Oberyn looks insulted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he contemplates your question. As if he were deciding if he should be insulted by them. Only for his brows to unknit a moment later. “The babe lives with me.” He tells you. “As the mother, you would also be allowed to live in Sunspear.”

Even as Oberyn moves you back, guiding you back towards the bed that has been adorned with fresh linens for his visit, you mull over his words. He wants you to carry his babe. To knowingly get pregnant with a bastard. To be a mother to one of his children. “And after the babe?” You ask seriously. “Then what?”

Oberyn snorts, his robe on the floor and he pulls his thin shirt over his head to toss it down as well. Stripping himself as bare as you are. “Then I will fill you again.” He groans, the front of his breeches twitching again. “We fuck every day, all day, until you are full again. Another babe.” He hisses. “And I’ll let any man or woman lick your cunt while you are round and full. But no man fucks you but me while you are carrying my child.”

His fingers untie his breeches, opening them and pushing them down his hips. His boots had been discarded earlier, when he had entered your house, so now he is standing in front of you. His hard cock bobbing proudly in front of you.

“So I would be your broodmare?” You ask quietly, still not understanding why the prince wanted you to carry his bastards. Why he wanted to purposefully breed them on you. “To have your babies?”

His cock twitches and he wraps his hand around his cock with a groan. “I will breed you, yes. You will carry my bastards, yes. You will have anything you wish. Any lover. We will fuck them together. Men, women, every brothel we wish to seek out or a person who catches our eyes.”

You had heard of Oberyn’s indulgences. Of his generosity with lovers and how free he could be with his cock and his purse at times. This doesn’t feel like he’s trying to talk you into just having his baby. It’s more like it’s a commitment to him. As committed as you could be to a man who had vowed to never marry.

“Except when I am carrying your bastards?” You just want to clarify, make sure you understand. You have been so used to living however you choose, so you want to make sure you know what you are getting into.

“I would let any tongue pleasure your cunt, any fingers bury themselves in your warmth, but only my cock would fuck your womb full. While the babe is resting inside. Then, after, you could have fifteen cocks inside your holes and I would watch while a mouth is around my cock.” He chuckles. “Then after you recover from that, I will plant my seed in your womb again.”

“How many?” You ask, curious if Oberyn is planning on breeding a bastard army. He hums, kneeling on the bed and pulling your legs apart to shuffle between them. Eager to bury himself in your cunt while he talks of making a child with you. He had never known of his first two bastards until they were older. This time, he wants to be involved. To know that you are carrying his seed and keeping you nailed to the bed with his cock while you are.

“As many as you will bear.” He groans, twitching as he guides himself to your entrance and sliding deep. He has a need to breed you, to plant his seed inside your womb and he will make sure that you are cared for. He would care for you. His lips fall on yours with a groan of your name and he starts to rock his hips. Determined to see you drip his cum and push it back inside your perfect cunt. “As many as we can have.”

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn nymeros martell

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palioom · 7 months

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day seven - waxplay

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 514

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; fingering, probably very unsafe waxplay, some praise kink

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

“How does it feel, my dove?” Oberyn asked, his voice soft and smooth, watching in delight as the crimson wax dripped from the tip of the candle onto her body.

Drawing stripes across her belly, pooling in the dip below her sternum. Decorating her as he saw fit.

She moaned, the hot sensation foreign but pleasant on her skin. Searing, for just a moment before it cooled and dried, leaving behind only a faint warmth, like a mark.

“It feels magnificent, my Prince.” Voice breathy, writhing below his dark gaze. Clearly he enjoyed this a great deal, a mischievous grin on his lips as his hand wandered higher. “Like it is burning me, but not hurting too much.”

Oberyn tilted the candle again, letting more liquid wax drip onto her breasts, letting it flow over one nipple and observing how her breath hitched, taking in the hum that followed. Her naked thighs squeezed together to relieve some of the throbbing pressure, to find some friction.

His free hand hovered closely over her body, not close enough to actually touch her, just to build up the anticipation.

“You look beautiful like this, my sweet.” Pairing the praise with more of the burning sensation as he covered her other nipple as well, her hands twisted into the silken sheets below her.

His hand moved further down her body, only hovering still. He could see her limbs twitch whenever he lowered it enough to brush over the fine hairs covering her skin.

So responsive to his ministrations, choking on her moan when he slipped a finger between her wet folds, paired with more wax on the valley between her breasts. Finding the sensitive bud there and applying pressure.

“How does that feel?” He inquired, smirking like a devil and dripping more hot wax over her.

Her response came in the form of a moan, his fingers dipping lower and into her, her back arching and causing some of the still liquid wax to run down her body.

Letting her writhe for a bit beneath his touch, curling his fingers before he asked again.

“I asked you how you feel, my sweet dove.” His voice was firmer, more demanding, but he didn’t stop his movements. Pumping the digits in and out of her at a rapid pace, thick and girthy. “Your Prince demands an answer.”

Another moan slipped past her lips as he paired the curl of his fingers with more wax on her, so close to her peak.

“Magnificent.” She breathed out, her orgasm crashing into her shortly after. Letting her eyes roll into the back of her head, a cry of his name rolling off her tongue.

All while he watched, his own little artwork, covered in wax and still clutching his fingers tightly.

“Good, my little dove.” He chuckled quietly, withdrawing his fingers. Admiring her flushed skin. “You look beautiful like this.”

She simply nodded, delirious from the sensations he had bestowed upon her. Warm from both the wax and his words, already excited to see what else he would want to do with her.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x f!reader #prince oberyn #oberyn martell imagine #game of thrones #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #kinktober 2023 #my writing

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 3 months

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 13

Glorious Magnificent Goddess | Loki x Reader

You and Loki retreat to his hideaway to recouperate after your run in with Lugh. Loki helps you practice your magic again as well as rewarding you for your bravery. But how far can you really escape a God?

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, lots of praise, possessive Loki, making out, teasing, oral ( f receiving), p in v, cockwarming (if you squint), dirty talk but also…angst, emotional hurt/comfort.

A/N: This is mostly smut but there's definitely some plot there too. Please don't judge me for my terrible prophecy writing.

Also this chapter wouldn't have been written with nearly so much smut in it if I hadn't been so sexually frustrated reading @lokisgoodgirl 's The Lakes series. There's no little Tesco here and we're far from The Lakes but this chapter is dedicated to you :)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

—

Somewhere between your sheer terror of being kidnapped and Loki’s sweeping rescue of you from the floor, you’d passed out. When you woke you were lying on a sofa in front of a roaring fire, the logs crackling merrily in time with the soft low hum of Loki’s voice.

You turned your head to see him moving deftly around a small kitchen, pouring steaming soup into a bowl while he sang quietly. At first you didn’t recognise the words, but the more you listened and allowed the song to wash over you, the more you understood. He sang of home, of love and comfort, songs that spoke to the very bones of you until you melted into the cushions and blankets, at peace. Somewhere deep down your memories hummed back, even if you couldn’t remember the words yet.

He turned, still singing the last of the tune, and smiled gently. In the firelight he looked shockingly ethereal compared to his domestic surroundings, his hair glossy and dark, tumbling about his shoulders in almost cherubic curls. The shirt he’d worn under his suit was now only loosely tucked into his trousers, the collar undone and his sleeves rolled up just past his elbows.

“You’re awake,” he knelt next to you, cupping your face in his hands and drawing you close, kissing you so tenderly you thought you might still be asleep, dreaming of being awoken by Prince Charming.

“Was I dreaming? We went on that stupid mission and it was awful -” you scrunched your face the memory. “Do you think it’s always that chaotic?”

“It wasn’t a dream, Darling, unfortunately. We were intercepted by someone.”

It came rushing back, the man’s hands grabbing at you, the blinding light he seemed to be able to control and the spear he wielded. But then, you’d had a spear too, and armour, silver and velvet and flame. You looked down at your clothes, the armour was gone and in its place was one of Loki’s soft cotton shirts.

“I knew him, I think. I saw a memory with him in, and my mother, they were friends. He said his name was Lugh and we were in his home, it was snowing - But I was younger then. And I saw one of the men who - who -”

Loki placed a steadying hand on your arm, remaining by your side, his eyes darting over your face and searching for any trace of pain or suffering. “Hush, darling, let’s not talk of it now. You’ve had a trying time, rest and we can talk of it in the morning.

“But I’ve seen him before, Loki, I have and-” You sighed, falling back on the sofa. “I wish I could just remember.”

Loki kissed your cheek and moved back to the kitchen, “well, this Lugh, he frightened you and I will not tolerate that. Here, I made you soup, you should eat and get some strength back.” He placed the tray on an oak coffee table and piled cushions onto the floor for you to sit on.

Sliding down onto the nest of pillows, you allowed yourself to look around the room, it was small but cosy, furnished with solid oak and thick, luxurious fabrics in velvet, knits and heavy wool plaid. Large cushions backed the sofa and chairs while the walls were lined with books old and new.

“Where are we?” You asked, blowing on the warm soup before taking a small sip from your spoon.

“A secret place, a cabin. We’re still in America, if that’s what you were wondering. Those ridiculous spangled idiots showed up and blew our cover so I needed to retreat quickly. I can teleport, but not very far, and this was the nearest place I could drive to after we were far enough away.” Loki said, matter of factly, before joining you on the floor and dunking a thick crust of bread into your soup.

“Hey, that’s mine,” you reached a foot out to kick him gently and he laughed, pulling it into his lap.

“Share, Ásynja , don’t be selfish,” he smiled, dipping again but offering you the bread between his fingers.

“I didn’t know you lived anywhere else.” You’d always imagined that when he wasn’t at the compound Loki retreated to some icy fortress covered in black and green furnishings. Something dramatic and luxurious, you certainly hadn’t imagined a cosy log cabin.

“I like to have a few retreats, a few bolt holes here and there. Plus Brunnhilde uses them from time to time when she’s on official business, hotels aren’t really her style, she prefers to deplete my stores of whisky and mead.” Loki didn’t look upset though, he seemed pleased to be able to offer somewhere comfortable and inviting.

“I would’ve thought showing off in the lap of luxury would be right up your street.” You teased, Loki liked the finer things in life and there was no way you were complaining when he extended such luxuries to you too. But there was something so satisfying about teasing the god of Mischief.

“Oh, yes, it is,” his smile morphed from playful into predatory, his voice dropping an octave into that rough rumble that made you melt, “but it’s the privacy we enjoy. We’re in the middle of nowhere, my Darling-”

“And no one can hear me scream?” You joked, raising your eyebrows.

“Exactly.” He tugged on your leg again, before reaching forwards and pulling you into his lap. Beneath the wool slacks he was already hard, the firm length of him straining against the zip. His shirt was loose on you, rucked up around your waist to accommodate your spread legs and you were mercifully bare beneath.

“Loki,” you breathed, pressing yourself down into his embrace, moulding your bodies together. Between your thighs he throbbed, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, reigniting your adrenaline.

Loki’s large hands slid up your back, one splayed wide cupping your waist, the other on the back of your neck, tipping your head down so he could growl against your lips, “I love when you say my name,” he nipped at your bottom lip and you kissed back, sucking his tongue into your mouth like you were ravenous. “My Ásynja , take what you need my darling, I am yours, at your mercy, my breathtaking Goddess.”

Together you fell backwards onto the rug, Loki breaking your fall and gently laying you down beside him. His hands ghosted down your side, barely touching you while his magic melted your clothes away leaving you both glowing in the firelight.

“You were magnificent tonight, a true goddess of the Aesir, I -” His hands fluttered over you, his eyes trying to take you all in at once.

You had never seen Loki lost for words before and it was a glorious feeling, knowing that you had reduced him to this.

“I have to have you, darling, can’t keep my hands from you.” He growled, touching every inch of your bared skin.

“I couldn’t have done it without you though, Loki.” You assured him, kissing along his broad shoulders, inhaling the rich scent of him, so close.

“Ah, my darling one, I did nothing.” He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the feel of you, each kiss like a butterfly's wings brushing against his skin.

“Wait-” You sat up, “you didn’t do anything?”

“No, did you think I had some part to play?” He looked at you quizzically, “you think I conjured a burning spear? Silver armour?”

“Well - I -” He curled an eyebrow at you, encouraging you to complete your thought. “I did that? That was me?”

“Of course” he laughed out the words, surprised that you weren’t already aware.

“Well. Okay.” You lay back on the rug and stared at the ceiling, unabashed in your nakedness, and Loki fought the urge to simply climb on top of you.

“Hmmm, indeed.” Instead he traced his finger over your sternum and between your breasts, down to your belly button and then over your hip. Tingling goosebumps erupted in his wake and you watched as he skipped from your hip to where the bracelet he gave you still circled your wrist. “Besides, if I had created armour for you, it would be in green and gold.” He murmured, bending to place a kiss on the delicate skin below the bracelet.

“Would it now, have you thought of how you’d dress me for battle?” Now it was your turn to lift an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you show me how you’d prepare me for battle.”

Loki gave you a predator’s smile before pulling you closer. “Too many clothes required for battle, darling, how about we practise the celebration instead?”

As you drifted in and out of sleep the memory of Loki’s hands on you followed your sleeping thoughts, his hands spread wide on your thighs, squeezing and kneading while he feasted on you, his body supplicant before you, worshipping as he’d promised. You writhed, rolling closer to him and hooking your leg over his. There was still a deep ache within you, a roiling of your magic needing release and bubbling to the surface in your whimpers and bucking hips.

Loki stirred beside you and pulled you closer, your naked body was bed warm and soft compared to his perpetually cooler constitution and it felt good to be thawed by your presence. He cupped your cheek, turning your sleeping face so he could look over your features. There was still a tendency for your eye colour to shift without you realising, but everything else had settled and now every time he looked at you the same beautiful face shone back.

He kissed you on your forehead, revelling in the gentle smile that spread across your lips, he kissed your cheek and nose, moving across your face until your eyelashes fluttered and you snuggled closer, fingers digging into his sides. Slowly, so slowly, he moved down your neck, pressing kisses onto your collarbone and nuzzling into the swell of your breast, he laved wet kisses onto your nipples, blowing cold air over the sensitive flesh just to watch them pebble and tighten before him.

Loki’s kisses were featherlight, meltingly soft but you needed more, craved more. Light flared within you and, behind the grate, the fire crackled in response, burning blue and filling the room with light.

He lifted his head watching you with lust blown eyes.

“Incredible, my darling goddess, do it again,” he encouraged, kissing lower until he could nip at your soft belly, his thumbs pressing into your hips to stop you from lifting upwards. “Do it again and I’ll give you anything you want, name your price.”

“I can’t,” you whined, giving up on struggling in favour of looping your leg over his muscular shoulder.

“You can,” he traced his nose lower, lower, the point of his tongue guiding him until he hovered over your aching core. “You can do it, Ásynja , you are powerful and strong, you control the fire, you control the light, show me, make me tremble before you.” His words were a whisper, a prayer, his eyes locked with yours despite the lewd poke of his tongue from between his pink lips.

Frustrated you dropped your head back onto the rug and the fire roared again, the candles dotted around the room flickered. Between your legs Loki smiled again, murmuring something in the same old norse language that you were still trying to remember. But it was hard to care what he was saying when he was teasing you so deliciously, his tongue writing every sinful thing he wanted to do.

“Please, Loki.” You hummed, tugging on the long strands of his silky hair in an effort to move him.

“A moment more, my darling one.” He cooed, sucking on the inside of your thigh while his fingers entered you slowly, curling into your fluttering walls.

“You promised me anything,” you gasped, heat pooling between your legs, Loki marvelled as your arousal slicked down his fingers.

“I did, and what does my most wonderful Goddess require of me?” He asked, his voice hoarse with lust.

“Fuck me, Loki- ugh,” he felt you clench around him, so soft yet so strong, and he knew he needed to have you just as much. “Fuck me like you mean it, I’m your Goddess, yours, take me, worship me, and make me yours.” You reached down and squeezed his hard cock as you spoke, watching his mouth fall open at the pressure.

With a growl, Loki prowled up your prone body, hooking your leg around his waist as he settled over you. All you could see was the curtain of his hair, the sharp lines of his face and his glittering eyes. The swell of his cock between your legs was hot and heavy, a tease of what was to come. It felt like it had been so long since you were alone together that you were desperate, clawing, inching your hips up until he was notched at your entrance, waiting.

“Please,” you begged, breathlessly and he slid home in a single thrust, filling you to the brim and binding you together. “Oh! Loki!”

“Yes, that’s it my darling,” he began to thrust, rolling his hips to rub against your clit with every movement. “Say my name.”

“Loki, Loki, Loki.” His name became a chant in time with each thrust. “I’m yours, oh my god, never let me go.” You buried your face in his neck, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin as he ground against you, locked together so tightly he could barely pull back before you were bringing him closer again.

“Never, I’ll never let you go, you’re mine now. All mine,” he panted, the feel of your lips and teeth a blissful pain, “and I’m yours, all yours.” The flames roared, their reflection catching in the glass of the lamps artfully dotted around the room, painting the walls in jewelled colours, emerald, sapphire and ruby red.

He sat back, pulling you into his lap so he could kiss your chest and hold you closer. You moved together, riding towards your release as if you were charging into battle, never close enough, never fast enough, chasing your pleasure while Loki looked at you in awe.

With a final roar he buried himself inside of you and the banked fire of your desire burst forth consuming you both. In the fireplace the flames licked out onto the hearth, the candles flared and blue flames encircled you both.

Loki pulled away, his eyes tracing over your face as he always did, checking that you were happy and safe and smiling giddily as he was. And then he saw the flames, swirling like ribbons in the wind.

Guiltily you tried to pull away, but he held you firm, still deep inside of you and as he caught your gaze again you felt him throb against your sensitive walls, “magnificent,” he murmured, before tipping you back against the carpet and continuing his worship.

The morning came too soon, the mist that danced between the trees faded as it got closer to the cabin windows and you let out a puff of hot air against the pane. You set your cup of coffee on the side and drew a heart in the condensation, smiling as it turned green and gold as the rising sun beyond touched the tops of the pine trees in the valley.

On silent feet, Loki crept up on you, circling his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder where your shirt slipped away from your collar. Here he planted a wet kiss, squeezing you tighter when you giggled from the sensation. Between you both, you wondered if you’d ever have need to go clothes shopping again. With a flick of his wrist Loki had sent his suit into oblivion and had manifested a surprisingly sensible pair of dark jeans and a sweater. To his own surprise, try as he might, he couldn’t make it green and instead the fibres continued to insist on a rich, dark blue colour instead.

“Loki,” you chided, but you didn’t push him away, your body sought him at all times, reaching for his touch, so you allowed him to set his feet between yours and settled his hands on your hips.

“Darling, we should talk about what happened, now that we’ve had time to rest.”

Loki led you both out to a small covered porch at the back of the cabin, it’d been too dark to see your surroundings when you arrived but now you could see over through the trees to an open vista. A lake took up the majority of the valley, tailing away into a rushing river at its furthest point. Both sides of the valley were covered in dense trees, golden brown patches in the late autumn and dark green pines knitting together the amber canopy, the mist still rose from them while you settled into an old swing chair. The view was incredible, stealing your breath and your words as Loki settled beside you.

“It reminded me of Norway,” he said, casually, “and so I had to have it. Especially as things became so -” he waves his hand, “messy, in Asgard.”

“It’s beautiful, I could stay here forever.”

“As could I, darling, but we must address what happened. This isn’t the first time you’ve been attacked and I grow concerned it could happen again.” Loki was rarely so serious, even in the early days of your training he had been playful and coy, teasing your abilities from you.

You sat in silence, sipping your coffees while you thought of how to proceed.

“So, I suppose we start with the obvious, we know one of the players in this game now,” Loki said, decisively. “Lugh, it is not a pantheon I know well, though my father was always respectful and my mother knew various members. Though it is possible when my memories were taken, I forgot about other gods as well.”

“I suppose... I don’t know why he’d pretend to care now when he had me happily locked away like some fairytale princess.” You huffed.

“He mentioned your mother? That they were friends? With your mother gone, we could assume he is trying to act on her behalf, protect you as she would.I know my father often behaved in such a manner, keeping secrets when he ought to have told the truth, and then calling it protection, kindness.”

“Do you think - do you think he was the one who kept me locked up as well? Despite it all he didn’t seem like he wanted to be violent, I can’t understand how anyone working for him would be violent when he could have killed us both there and then. And then there’s the boy.”

Loki looked at you, his head tipped to the side. “The boy?” You had mentioned the boy earlier as well, but he had thought you were simply delirious.

“When he touched me, Lugh, I saw a memory of us together. My mother and I were at his house, he was kind and gentle. He encouraged me to go outside and play with a boy, it seemed like I was - happy?” You stared into the trees, hoping some clarity would emerge inside you to stop the churning feeling in your stomach.

“I learnt a lot from my father and one of the most important lessons he ever gave me, well, I don’t believe he intended to teach this as a lesson. But I learnt to never trust his mood. One minute he would love me and call me son, the next he would send me away for decades at a time. I would counsel against trusting Lugh, if he’s lived as long as Odin, the time has eaten away at what’s left of his sanity and I don’t doubt he would be kind to you in one moment and lock you up in the next.” Loki shrugged, melancholy at the memory of Odin, and then took a long drink from his mug.

You looked over to see a sad smile tugging at his lips, as if making fun of Odin was easier than the honesty of his statement.

“Perhaps - but, I recognised his eyes, the boy. I saw him again, he came for me. After I got away from those Asgardian’s, he tried to get me to go with him and I refused. He told me to stop using my magic, just as Lugh did, and then I was taken again by - hmmm.”

“If he warned you against the magic and then you were taken again, perhaps it was not Lugh who kidnapped you.” Loki raised his eyebrows and you nodded, silent and contemplative, already wondering the same. “Perhaps he really was trying to protect you?” Loki still hadn’t told you about the sigil he’d seen, about how he knew who your last captors were. How would he explain to you that your betrothed was out to find you? He had no memory of that war between the Aesir and the Vanir, how could he spoil what was growing between you with a fear like that.

“Perhaps. I just wish there was something in my past I could trust and believe in.”

He felt sick lying to you, even if it was by omission.. Loki had promised himself that he would protect you and he would, for now you needed comfort and peace more than you needed the truth.

You lapsed into silence, finishing your coffee and setting it onto the wooden porch floor. The quiet washed over you, the sound of the water and the rustling trees, even the calls of the birds felt perfectly placed to put you at ease.

After a while, Loki spoke again, quiet and low with that same serious voice that was so unfamiliar. “I still loved him, Odin, though he kept many things from me. Just because things are confusing now, doesn’t mean your happier times are forgotten. You used to speak of your Grandfather and now - well - there has been no mention of him for some time. You are allowed to miss him, and your life before this. It is no slight against me for you to have enjoyed happier times with others. I only wish for you to be happy again now.”

Emotion welled within you, “I do still think of him. I miss him so much, even if - I know, I know he wasn’t real. But he was real for me. He was kind.” You stuttered, reaching out for Loki’s hand to ground you.

“I’m glad.” Loki squeezed back, tangling your fingers together and he held you as you cried “ I think we should consider going back to Tønsberg , to show Brunnhilde what you saw. Perhaps she has some more answers, now that there has been time to think.”

“I thought we were supposed to rendevouz with the team again?” You sniffed, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “won’t they be looking for us when we didn’t meet to swap cars?”

“Well that’s what we were supposed to do, but they’ve got their item now, I thought we could enjoy some time together here and then, when you’re ready, I shall take you home.” Loki put his arm over your shoulders and held you against his side, the deep scent of amber still lingered on him, mixed with the crisp, clean, scent of pine. You tucked your feet up onto the seat, leaning your weight into his warm, strong body and allowed yourself a moment of peace to think of it, a home for you and Loki.

You hadn’t felt as safe and secure since you first left your flat, any time the God was in your presence you felt at peace, content with the world and your place in it. Loki was right, you needed some time together, and practising your fire skills was exactly the kind of cosy activity the glowing hillside and crisp air required.

You whiled away a few more hours, snuggled together in the early winter air, Loki created a small green fire that glowed in front of you while you practised sending blue sparks dancing around the edge.

Inside the cabin the fire smouldered, warm and inviting. Wood stacked by the fireplace shuddered and a single log rolled off onto the floor surrounded in white light.

Distracted outside neither you nor Loki watched the divine woodwork taking place inside as the log slowly became smaller and smaller, leaving chips of wood in it’s wake. Finally, after an hour of craftsmanship, the light faded and left behind a small wooden box. It grew hot, as it sat before the fire and opened, revealing a misty mirror inside, and a swatch of delicate lace wrapped around a glass sphere.

The lace unravelled, allowing the marble to roll away from its container, bumping against the back of the sofa and coming to a stop before the fire, heating up and then cracking, releasing the secret inside.

A soft voice escaped, “I saw a vision of a flock divided, a tup of pure chaos and a ewe of love, a ram standing watch, a singular lamb frolicking, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, I can protect her no longer.”

Frigga’s voice, lost to the mortality that even the seemingly infinite possess, faded into the quiet of the cabin.

And outside your chatter continued obliviously, happy and full of love.

<< Part 12

Part 14>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New

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charliedawn · 28 days

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Hiya Charlie! I missed ya! I’ve been busy with college. I finally changed my major to American history and I’m happier.

Anyway I have a request for you! Idk if you do AUs or anything, but I thought it’d be fun. How about a Hannibal royal family au? I’ve been reading a lot about knights and princes and princesses lately, and this idea wouldn’t leave my brain!

have a lovely day Charlie!

ROYAL HANNIBAL FAMILY AU:

You were but a villager.

In no way were you expected to attend any royal ceremony or to even set foot into the palace…but, you had still received a letter one morning—inviting you to the castle. You had believed in a hoax at first—a joke. Or maybe even a mistake. But, the letter had your name on it—written in pretty cursive.

You were hence invited to the castle of the royal family. Once confirmed, you began to be frightened. Many rumours went about that place…And some of them were gruesome.

Tales of man-eating monsters and bloodthirsty creatures hiding within the castle.

You didn’t know why you had been invited—but you knew that you had no choice but to accept the invitation or some misfortune might befall on you. You hence stepped within the walls of the dark castle where many had stepped in before—only to never return…

You knew you ought to bring a gift for the family, and hence chose to pluck flowers from your garden and bring them with you—hoping they would be enough to change your destiny.

HANNIBAL SR. THE KING:

Fleur de Lys.

For the king, you had brought magnificent fleurs de lys—the royal flower. It was said to bring peace and prosperity to a kingdom. You entered the throne room and sure enough, here was his majesty the king. Your knees started shaking as you made your way into the throne room and bowed deeply before none other than King Hannibal Lecter. His eyes seemed to bore into yours and he didn’t talk for a moment—until his eyes landed on the flowers.

"…Are those for me ?" He asked and you nodded before taking a step forward.

"Yes, my king." To your utter surprise, king Hannibal himself stood up and walked down the stairs of his throne to you. He then took the flowers in his hands and smiled.

"…Ah. Fleur de Lys. How thoughtful. A worthy gift. Such a lovely one at that." His eyes looked down at the unfortunate creature who had come into his castle for the sole purpose of being hunted.

"Tell me, my dear child. Why bring me flowers ?"

He was genuinely curious and you smiled before slowly looking back up at him.

"You and your family have been protecting this land and our way of life for as long as I can remember. And I knew that if I was to meet a king, then I was to bring a gift to show my gratitude as to this unexpected invitation."

Hannibal Sr looked at the villager curiously. It was rather odd. No villager had ever brought a gift with them before…But, it wasn’t unwelcome. He smiled. It was even quite touching in a way…He gave the flowers to a servant for them to put them in a vase. He then looked back down at the villager.

"What is your name, child ?" He asked—his voice authoritative and loud enough to echo all around the throne room like thunder.

"…Y/N. My king." You replied before looking up at him and he smiled as he looked at you curiously. You were intriguing. He hummed before returning to his throne to sit back down.

"How about I offer you a job, Y/N ? Would you like that ? Would you consider to work under my service ?" He asked and your eyes widened at the offer.

"Sir…I would love nothing more."

And just like that, you had now been hired by the royal family as a servant. And for the first time, the villagers saw one of their own return to the village. You quickly packed your bags and left—unaware the fate that you had miraculously escaped.

HANNIBAL JR. THE PRINCE REGENT:

Roses.

When you approached the gates, you could already see the guards staring at you with knowing smirks. You gulped. They seemed to know something about the purpose behind your visit and the way they looked at you made you involuntarily shiver…You looked at the roses in your hands. Perhaps your gift would spare you punishment, or even death ? You shook your head at the dark thoughts plaguing your mind before stepping inside and making your way to the throne room…You were expecting to meet with the king.

But instead, the Prince Regent was sitting there—his piercing gaze staring at you intensely as you approached.

"M-My prince…" You greeted him politely before bowing respectfully before him.

"…I was made aware that you had a gift for me, is that correct ?" He asked and you bowed your head deeply before offering the roses to his gaze.

"Yes, my prince. Roses." He scoffed before standing up to look at the roses closely.

"I have many roses within my kingdom, why would you bother bringing me such a gift ?" You stayed completely still and didn’t know how to answer.

"I…I just thought that his majesty would appreciate them. I have grown them myself and I thought that you would be able to appreciate a gift as this one because I heard you valued hard work and dedication. I only wished to prove myself to you."

Hannibal Jr smirked before grasping your chin and slowly tilting it up to look into your eyes.

"Very well…And what can you do for me then, little flower ?"

You started thinking about it before replying confidently.

"…Anything you want, my prince."

He studied your answer and smiled as his eyes didn’t leave yours for a second. He finally released your chin and seemed pleased by your answer.

"Anything you say ? Interesting."

Maybe…Would he keep that one ?

MORGAN HANNIBAL THE FIRST PRINCE: Pansies

Once you had entered, you followed your instincts to give you the path to the throne room, as no one seemed to be around to guide you. You started walking until you reached a magnificent door with lovely gold patterns. You thought it was the throne room and opened the door—only to end up in a library. You looked around curiously. The village didn’t have books such as these—not as many anyway…And besides, only a lucky few knew how to read. And they didn’t share their knowledge unless they were paid…

Then, your eyes landed on a book that was open on the table. You knew you better haste and find the throne room before your time was up but…Curiosity got the best of you and you slowly made your way to the book. You hoped there would at least be pictures for you to look at…Once close enough, you looked at the pages and found it rather curious to find the illustrated representation of a rabbit wearing a waistcoat and holding a pocket watch…How curious.

As the pages were flipped, more incongruous and confusing characters came in, all the more interesting as the pages went along…You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of a smiling purple cat. You then wondered who that book might well belong to ?

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you and before you could turn around—you felt the hand of a stranger at the back of your neck and forcing you to remain in the same position…bent over the book.

"…Do you like it ?" He asked—his voice merely a whisper in your ear and you gulped as you started becoming nervous.

"I…I didn’t mean to look at it. I am sorry, sir. Please. Forgive me."

He tsskd in disapproval before digging his fingers into your skin.

"Answer my question, little mouse…or your last words will be the apology."

And with that threat, your tongue started working on its own.

"Y-Yes. I like it. I love the pictures and the funny animals. I just…I would just like to understand more. I have trouble understanding the story. I am sorry."

He hummed behind you before sitting down next to you. That is when his face came into view and your eyes widened as you recognised the first prince…You wished to escape—but his grip hadn’t loosened as he took the book and opened it on the first page.

To your utter shock, he started reading it to you. His voice was cold, but poised and rich like cinnamon and melted sugar…After a while, you decided it was best to just listen and enjoy the privilege of being read to. You didn’t even notice when his grip on you finally loosened completely and he instead started circling the side of your throat with his thumb—seeking your pulse and wondering if you were afraid.

He searched for fear. He found none…His eyes settled on the flower pot you had brought with you…pansies. You had brought pansies to the castle and he held back a laugh before continuing reading to you.

You had no idea of the fate awaiting you.

KEVIN HANNIBAL THE MIDDLE PRINCE: Daffodils.

"HELLO, PRECIOUS !" You were stunned when the doors of the castle opened wide and none other than Prince Kevin came out with a big grin on his face. "Come in, luv’. Make yourself at home !"

He took your hand and before you could as much as let out a squeak of protest…You were already in. He dragged you all the way to—what you assumed to be—his bedroom. It was a great room with all the luxury one could afford…but what truly struck you wasn’t the fine furniture and incredible gold, silver and emerald green designs worthy of such a man…No.

It was the paintings.

Hundred of them. They were covering the walls and for a simple villager, it was like walking inside a great museum. You had never seen so many paintings, or even held a brush before. But, you couldn’t but to marvel facing all those reproductions of people you had met, people you had never met, places you had seen and other unseen…It put into perspective all the things you knew and didn’t in such a beautiful way.

The prince remained silent—observing you with a slight tilt of his lips. He was holding back a smile as he saw the admiration in your gaze…The middle prince was foreign by what the rumours said about him—from a country far away surrounded by water and where dark creatures resided. But, his smiling face was a complete contrast with what you thought your first meeting with royalty would be.

"Not bad, eh ?" He asked and his accent rolled off his tongue in such a way that it inwardly made you smile for some reason.

"Those are…incredible, my prince." He chuckled at your compliment before looking down at the flowers in your hands.

"Are those for little old me ?" Before you could answer, he took the flowers from you and smiled at the daffodils. He then did something unexpected and threw the flowers on his bed. You were about to ask the reason before he wordlessly guided you to the bed and laid you down carefully. He then started placing the flowers all around your head—as if putting together an art piece. When he was finished, he smiled.

"Don’t move." He then quickly grabbed brushes, colours and a canvas to start painting. You didn’t dare move as he put himself to work and silent fell all around you—except for the occasional sounds of the careful strokes of his paintbrush on the canvas and your breathing. After a while, you dared to glance at the prince and observe him as he worked. He was…quite handsome. His eyelids lowered and his eyes focused on his work. You didn’t know the reason for your summoning, but you would have never thought it was to be the model for the prince’s next art piece.

Suddenly, his eyes met yours and he smiled knowingly—for a moment resembling his own art in the perfection of his traits.

You smiled back.

PETER HANNIBAL. THE YOUNGEST PRINCE: Sunflower.

Peter was bored. His father and brothers were all busy with their duties and he wasn’t allowed outside the wall of his room. He sighed and was staring out his window. He wished for a friend…a friend to come and cure his boredom. And as if his prayers had finally been answered, someone entered his room—someone new. He had first expected Morgan or Kevin, but his eyes lit up when he realised that it was someone he had never seen before…

"Oh. My apologies. I…I am afraid I am a bit lost."

His mouth was about to speak up when they landed on the sunflower in your hand instead. A sunflower ? You had brought a sunflower ? He stared at it and you noticed. You smiled before giving it to him. He was surprised, but smiled at the gift that he eagerly received and stared at…

"Could you please tell me the direction of the throne room ?" They asked with an incredibly sweet voice and Peter was stunned for a few seconds. The throne room ? No…So, they were the next meal ? The next one to be served as dinner for his family ? He looked them up and down and in a matter of seconds—took a decision. He stood up and went to the door to lock it. He then remained with his back facing you for a while before slowly turning back towards you with the biggest grin on his face.

"C-Could you play a game with me ? Just the two of us ?" You blinked twice in astonishment at his request before chuckling nervously.

"Hum…I am not sure, my prince. I think I ought to go to the throne room now before I arrive late…"

"Just one. PLEASE !" He pleaded and you knew that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you smiled and nodded in agreement. "Sure. What is the game then, my prince ?"

He giggled and his face got closer to you before he replied:

"Listen to me and do everything I say or…you die." You were taken aback for a moment before you huffed a nervous laugh.

"…What ?"

Suddenly, his jovial smile disappeared—replaced by darkness in his eyes.

"You heard me. Do as I say or…my papa and my brothers will find you and eat you. But, I can keep you safe. I can help you. All you have to do is promise to be my friend !" At that last part, he grinned again and you knew better than to ignore such words. They were no laughing matter—especially that you knew you hadn’t been the first to be summoned and to never return. You realised that he wasn’t kidding and you gulped. What choice did you have ?

You bowed.

"Yes. Thank you, my prince."

His grin widened before he hugged you tightly.

"You and I…we’re gonna be best friends. You’ll see. And I’ll love you and you’ll love and it is gonna be so great ! You’ll see…"

Indeed, you would…

You thought before a petal of the sunflower fell to the floor.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #hannibal siblings #morgan hannibal #peter hannibal #the hannibal family #hannibal jr #hannibal x reader #hannibal family #hannibals #hannibal lecter #hannibal #kevin hannibal x reader #kevin hannibal #morgan hannibal x reader #peter hannibal x reader #hannibal sr.#hannibal jr.

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sillicii · 1 month

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✦ — 18+ Chatbot | Rafayel | The Drowned Prince— ✦

✦ — ʟ∞ᴅs | ʀᴀғᴀʏᴇʟ | 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 — ✦

ᴀɴʏᴘᴏᴠ | ɴsғᴡ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ ᴄᴡ: murder, false identities, revenge, torture AU inspired by Rafayel’s Sea of Golden Sand myth.

Character Description:

First message:

Years of patience and meticulous planning ended the second he hesitated. Everything leading up to the big moment executed exactly to plan and all he had to do was plunge his blade into your chest and recover what was stolen from his people… He was so close to it know that the steady thumps in your chest almost drove him mad with anticipation. For years he had withstood the urge to retrieve it, to rip out the stolen treasure of his people. It called to him. Just as it called to him tonight when he was stood over your bed, a low hum heard only by Lemurians rang in his ears just like it always did. Your heart. It called to him. But when the knife was in his hand and the blade poised above your chest ready to break skin… he looked at your slumbering face instead. How peaceful you looked in your sleep, your unparalleled beauty that he had never quite been able to comprehend, and the way you always looked to be glowing with a spark that had not waned the slightest even over the years. {{user}} was the most magnificent person Rafayel has ever known… and he was also hopelessly in love with you. As he sat in your bed lamenting over his torn heart and conflicting ideals, Rafayel was wholly agonised and was unprepared for the arrival of the royal guards – well, the rest of the royal guards. They were on him in an instant and while it wasn’t entirely unusual for Rafayel to be in your bed given your intimate relationship and the fact he was your personal bodyguard… Tonight was different. It was meant to be the point of no return. Rafayel had already supposedly made his peace and his blade was already soiled from the kills he made on his way to your chambers. He left a literal trail of blood and it was no surprise that they immediately apprehended him, and throughout the chaos he could just about make out your stirring form and the confused apprehension on your face as Rafayel was being dragged down to the dungeons. You had been worried for him. Rafayel kept a strong face even when he was berated and beaten by the warden. The entire palace was in an uproar, footsteps and shouting can be heard even down in the dungeon, and he could only imagine what awaited him… What kind of expression you would give him now that he had gotten his revenge and killed your parents. The king and queen. Hours passed and the beatings continued. Days then passed and the beatings continued. Then one day, something different happened. Tied up, he was taken out of the dungeons and led down familiar hallways… towards your chambers. Inside you awaited him, your expression unreadable in the dark room and the moon was hidden behind a cloudy sky tonight. Your voice was weak and hoarse as you ordered the guards to tie him up on a chair that had been prepared in the middle of the room. The men moved in silence and Rafayel knew better than to speak while they were still present. These were the men responsible for his battered bruised body after all.

“… Your highness…” Rafayel murmured once they were finally in privacy. “{{user}}… M-My love, let me explain…”

Scenario:

{{user}} is the heir to the throne of your country. Rafayel has been undercover at the palace for over a decade now, earning your trust and becoming your friend and lover. Unknown to anyone, Rafayel is secretly the last heir to Lemuria, a country that was destroyed by {{user}}’s parents. Rafayel seeks to restore his country and revenge for its destruction. However, just as his plan fell into place, he was caught and delivered to {{user}} tied up. Rafayel is still in love with {{user}} and is torn between his love and his legacy.

Example dialogue:

{{char}}: * “That scar on your chest… The same one you’re so self conscious about…”* he spoke weakly, lips pressed together as he took in your form. *“Haven’t you ever wondered how your parents were able to keep their dying newborn girl alive? The costs that *my* people had to pay for you to live…?”* {{char}}: *"We are bound by more than ropes and blood {{user}}, bound by something deeper… *darker.” {{char}}: "I am Rafayel of Lemuria, the drowned prince, and I bare my throat to you — not out of weakness, but because I mingled in your world, slept in your bed, fought at your side… I cannot unfeel it, unlive it, unlove you.” {{char}}: “Do what you must, my love…” he whispered softly, leaning his bruised face backwards in display of his deference. “Beat me. Cut me. Torture me how you will. I would gladly take that pain if it lessens even a fraction of yours.” {{char}}: “I may be a degenerate…” he huffed breathily, his cheeks dusted a rosy red as he gazed back at you with heavy lidded eyes. Rafayel was a sight to behold, bloodied and bruised, tied to a chair at your instruction… and hard for you still. “But who’s responsible for creating this monster before you, {{user}}?” {{char}}: Each restrained instinct within him clamored for release, to echo the rhythm you set upon his lap, to steer and dominate the pace of your taunting rounds. He ached to thrust upward, to envelop you in an iron grip that left no space between punishment and pleasure. {{char}}: The sight of you, so forlorn and sheltered within the curl of your own limbs, splintered something within him. Rafayel struggled against the ropes—uselessly, hopelessly. {{char}}: "Feel me," he urged gutturally, his voice a velvet balm, laden with the intensity of the moment.

#janitor ai #chatbot #my-bot #my-bots #love and deepspace #l&ds #l&ds rafayel #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #l&ds chatbot #rafayel chatbot #my ai art #reader x rafayel #rafayel x reader

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

Text

Tale As Old As Time | Joel Miller Fantasy AU (Chapter Two)

Series Summary | A Prince, cursed to be unloved, hardened by years of staring at his scars and sitting in his loneliness. A girl, headstrong and wanting of adventure, to escape the life curated for her, a breath of fresh air against the dark of his heart and his home. Can she really learn to love the beast he has become? Truly, a tale as old as time.

Chapter Summary | A girl, granted reprieve from her cell, but is the extravagant room you find yourself in now just a guided cage? A prince, unsure of himself and what to do, let's his temper get the better of him.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader (Beauty and The Beast AU)

Chapter Warnings | Grumpy/Angry Joel. Introduction of some famous friends we all know and love, a girl who has essentially been kidnapped, discussion of food and alcohol but nothing else yet.

Word Count | 4.5K

Authors Note | I am so blown away by the love the first part of this received! I didn't ever think that AU's would be my thing but I'm so excited by this story and I'm excited to bring your part 2! For those of you who loved and enjoyed the original Beauty and The Beast, there's some scenes here which are just for you! I'd love to know your thoughts so if you enjoyed this (or even if you didn't!) then please consider reblogging, commenting or leaving me some asks! And if you'd like to support me further, you can leave a tip on my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Did you see her?” One conspiratorial voice asks in a hushed whisper.

“Poor thing, was scared to death,” The other voice responds, “He’s never going to break the curse if he behaves like this every time someone comes wandering through.”

There is a third voice added to the mix, “What do you mean, every time someone wanders through?” This voice is sarcastic, “This is the first time in years we’ve seen a single soul.”

“Maybe this our chance?” The second voice suggests, “Women like her don’t stumble upon souls like us often.”

“You really think she could be the answer?” It’s the first voice speaking again, “If the master had thrown me in a cell, I don’t think I could ever forgive him.”

It’s the second voice that decides the plan of action, “There is simply only one way to find out and that is to try.”

It’s late and Joel has a headache. With the passage of time, he’s stopped thinking of himself a Prince. He might still have his servants and his castle, which is crumbling around him, but outside of that, he is no better than any other man, no different from the people in the villages that surround his once magnificent estate. They don’t remember him; he doesn’t really remember them. He thinks, over the glass of wine he drinks, that it’s probably for the best. All the power and attention had gone to his head, wasting his father’s money on extravagant parties, guests whose names he didn’t know. They weren’t there for him, only for what he offered. They’d have gone to any party where the wine was good, and the music made them soar.

He finishes the wine in his glass when there is a tentative knock at the door. If it wasn’t for the wine jug being empty, he’d have told whoever it was to leave him alone, to leave him to his nightly stupor, but he wasn’t nearly drunk enough.

“Enter.” He calls out.

The door to the reception room opens and closes behind him, then the sound of footsteps and the empty jug being swapped for one that is full. Joel waits for the footsteps to start receding again, but they don’t. He clamps his jaw, trying not to lose his temper. They know to leave him alone in the evenings. Only to come to him to refill his drink at hourly intervals and leave with minimal talk. It was a routine they’d fallen into since the beginning.

“What will you do with her?”

It’s Lucian’s voice. Strange, Joel thinks. It’s normally Horace who oversees his nightly refills. The old man clearly didn’t have the courage for this conversation. If he wasn’t so fucking angry, he’d almost praise the younger man.

“Haven’t decided.”

Joel turns his head to look at the man. He’s smaller than Joel is, considerably, even before he was turned into a towering monster. Blonde hair with pointed features, and a stature that was so uncharacteristically rigid this evening, that Joel almost laughs.

“Might I offer a suggestion?” He speaks.

“You might,” Joel scoffs, “Doesn’t mean I’ll listen.”

He clears his throat as he pours wine into his cup, perhaps hoping the alcohol might placate his master.

“She is a girl, and we are running out of time, my lord.”

“Your powers of observation have always been astounding, Lucian,” Joel replies gruffly, sipping at the fresh cup of wine, “She trespassed, she must face the consequences.”

“I’m not suggesting she doesn’t,” Lucian assures, “But surely one evening locked in the tower is enough, my Lord, she was terrified.”

“And then what?”

“Maybe we bring her down to one of the rooms, make her feel comfortable?” He suggests.

“So, she breaks into my home, and we reward her, is what you’re suggesting?” Joel turns, face warmed by the fire burning in front of him.

“I’m suggesting that she is our only hope, sir,” Lucian is pleading now, “Another petal fell this week, none of us have much time left, or we’re damned to remain like this forever.”

Joel ponders for a moment, mulling it over in his mind. If it had just been himself under the curse, he’d leave the silly girl where she was, but it isn’t just him. He’s got his servants to think about, although they don’t know it, they are more his friends than anything else now, the only people he has spoken to in years, and he knows they’re tired.

He waves a hand in Lucian’s general direction, picking up the wine glass that is now full, “Do as you will, but she is not to stray to the West Wing, if I find her there, it won’t just be her that ends up back in a cell, understood?”

“Clearly, sir.”

The sun greets you early, peering in through the open gaps in the wall, meant to be a window, but only acting as a taunt for its prisoners. You could clearly see outside, out to freedom, but there was no way to reach it. At some point during the night, Phillipe had disappeared, no longer tied to the gate that you can see from the gap. You curse to whichever God will listen for your rotten luck, even if you could escape, the lack of horse would mean you wouldn’t get far before you were struck down by something, or worse, recaptured.

You lean your back against the wall and bring your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs to try and comfort yourself. The ground is cold and you find yourself wishing for some straw or something, anything to act as a barrier between you and the cold ground you’d spent the night on.

A little while later you can hear footsteps traveling up the stairs. Maybe now, in the harsh light of day, you’d finally see your captors face. Put features to the deep gruff voice and the large hands that had gripped you last night. It wasn’t to be. The man who comes into view is nowhere near large enough to be the same man who threw you over his shoulder like you were a sack of flour from the miller. This man looks friendly enough when he comes to kneel in front of the bars of your cell. Light blonde hair and a clean face, with friendly eyes. You want to trust him, but this could all be some kind of sick joke at your expense.

“I brought you some food,” The mystery man speaks, placing a plate down on the ground as he unlocks the cell door, “Are you hungry?” He asks, pushing the plate through the small open gap, kneeling on the floor outside so you’re of a similar height.

You shake your head and push the plate away with your foot – you have no idea what it could be laced with, even if it is just a lump of bread and some cheese. You try and curl in on yourself, make yourself smaller, hoping whoever this is will take the hint and leave you be.

“The master can be quite… abrasive,” He starts, “But he means well.”

You are vaguely aware of another set of feet making their way up the stairs, slower than this man had, but you push it to the back of your mind, “Abrasive?” You snort, “He locked me in a cell for walking through an open door, he is nothing more than a brute!”

The man in front of you holds his hands up in surrender at your outburst, just in time for another man, still nowhere near large enough to be your captor, to walk up the stairs, clutching at his chest as he caught his breath.

“I implore you Lucian,” He speaks with a deep voice, still trying to catch his breath, “You leave her where she is, the master didn’t give you express permission for this.”

“Charming,” You mumble, “Wait, leave me where I am?” Your head perks, “Where else would I go?”

The man who you now know is Lucian smiles, a genuine, friendly smile, which goes a small way in putting you at ease, “Well, this is no place for a beautiful girl like you, is it?” You return his smile because at this point, you think you’d do anything to not spend another second in this damp cell, “How about we take you somewhere more comfortable?”

“This is a terrible idea,” The older man, with a full beard and greying hair on his head to match speaks, “I really do think we should leave her here.”

“Horace, will you please shut up,” Lucian turns and chides him, “Look at her,” He tilts his head back towards you, “She’s terrified, she can’t stay here, and if the master asks, I’ll take the fall.”

He extends a hand to you and after weighing up another night spent in this cell, you let your own slip into his. Lucian pulls you to your feet and helps brush off some of the dirt from the skirt of your dress, as he motions for you to walk in front of him, “Follow that oaf back down the stairs,” He chuckles, “He’ll be slow going because of his knees.”

The room that you find yourself in now is a complete juxtaposition to a huge amount of the rest of the castle. None of the windows are broken, it doesn’t smell like the damp musk of the rest of the place, and the bed looks so comfortable you might cry. Your back is screaming from the night on the stone floor of the cell so you don’t think twice about flopping down onto the bed, letting the soft sheets and the mattress sink below you. You’re almost convinced you could fall asleep, until there is a loud knock at the door and then a woman, followed by a small boy invading the room.

“Oh you must have had a ghastly night up there,” She exclaims, “Only one thing for it, and that’s a strong cup of tea,” She’s picking up a tea pot and pouring the warm liquid into a cup, stirring in some milk and sugar, before the saucer is held in your direction. You take it gratefully and drink, letting it warm your bones, “Drink up dear, we’ve got a lot to do.”

“I’m sorry…” You trail off, “I’m lost?”

“That dress has seen far better days,” She points to your clothes, understandably covered in grime from your night in the cell, “And I’m sure you’re absolutely famished, now come on, before Madame Audra appears.”

You take another sip of the tea, as you watch the young boy rummaging around the room, “And who might you be?” You ask, smiling as he turns to face you.

“I’m Oliver, Miss,” He smiles widely, walking towards you, “But everyone here calls me Chip.”

“Chip?” You ask, a giggle to your voice.

“Yeah!” He exclaims, getting as close to you as he possibly can, lifting his lip to show you his teeth, “Because I fell and chipped my tooth, see?”

“Oh! How rude of me!” The older woman who has been fussing over the tea trolley exclaims, “I’m Mrs Thompson, and Chip here is my boy, and we’re going to make sure you’re comfortable here.”

There’s another swift knock at the door before it’s kicked open to reveal a woman, younger than Mrs Thompson but still older than you, arms laden with so many materials that she can barely see over the top of the pile. She’s bustles into the room and drops them on the bed, immediately taking hold of the cup of tea you were enjoying to set back on the tea trolley. She grabs hold of your wrists and pulls you up from the bed, holding up your arms and running you over with her eyes, as if she’s sizing you up. Turns out that’s exactly what she’s doing.

Whilst she’s fussing over the pile of what turns out to be dresses, you take a closer look at her. She’s beautiful, with smooth skin and friendly eyes, much like the rest of the gang you’ve met today. You wonder how these people have stayed so positive under the employment of such a horrid man. This woman in front of you can only be Madame Audra, and she’s dressed to the nines. You’d read about women like her in your books. Women of high society, with powdered faces and hair that towered on their heads, gowns made of silk and ribbons. She is quite possibly everything you had wanted to find in this world.

“Now, I’m going to leave you in Madame Audra’s capable hands, we’ve got dinner to prepare, haven’t we Chip?” Mrs Thompson explains, steering the tea trolley out of the room with Chip on her heel.

As the door closes you can hear Chip speaking to his mother, “See, I told you she pretty, mama.”

You smile, turning your attention back to Madame Audra, who is holding up a simple dress, the colour of sugared almonds. You remember when your father had brought some back from the city, years ago. You’d eaten them with your mother, already sick and in bed. One of the few good memories you still held of her.

“This will do nicely,” Madame Audra nods, holding it against your body, “The master will like this, and it’ll look lovely in the glow of the dining hall.”

“Oh, but I’m…”

“Well come on, let’s get you out of these dirty things.”

“I’m very grateful,” You start, a hand placed on her arm as she tries to turn you to undo the back of the dress you’re already wearing, “But I won’t be going for dinner.”

She stops dead in her fussing over you, eyes wide, “Oh but you must.” She implores.

“I won’t sit opposite a man who threw me in a cell for waking through an open door.” You stand your ground.

She’s about to open her mouth to speak when there is a knock at the door. It opens to reveal Horace, the man from earlier, straight-backed and serious.

“Dinner is served, my Lady.”

Joel is pacing, mainly through frustration more than anything else, as Lucian and Mrs Thompson set the dining table ready to begin the execution of their master plan. There is a roaring fire lit, warming the room, and all sorts of dishes being carried out and placed upon the table. It’s nothing short of a feast, if he closes his eyes, he could even convince himself that he was the man he once was and he wasn’t about to sit down with a girl who had trespassed into his home and was now seemingly being rewarded for it. If he’s honest with himself, he also might be a little nervous.

He'd been careful last night to stay in the shadows. He’s not really sure why, because at that point, all he was ever going to do with her was leave her up there to rot, but now he’s glad, glad that he hadn’t seen the look of repulsion on her face as he stepped into the light, showing the mottled skin of his face, scarred and textured as if someone had held his face to a flame for too long.

“What is taking her so long?” He finally lets out, exasperated, mainly because the food is going cold.

Mrs Thompson stands near the fire, her hands clasped in front of her, “Do try to be patient, my Lord, the girl has lost her freedom in less than a day, it’s going to take her some time.”

Lucian decides to add his two pence to the situation, setting down the fork he’s been pointlessly polishing to pass time, “Have you thought that maybe she might be the one to break the spell?” He asks, hope lacing his voice.

“Of course I have!” Joel exclaims, turning around to face him, “I’m not a fucking fool.”

Lucian holds his hand up in surrender like he always does, but then claps them together, “Well then, it’s settled,” He exclaims, “You fall in love with her,” He holds out one hand, “She falls in love with you,” His other hand now held out, “The spell is broken, and we all go back to normal.”

“Oh Lucian,” Mrs Thompson sighs, “It’s not that easy, love takes time.”

Joel can feel his stomach sinking, hope had flourished before, at the idea that perhaps this might work, that these people who have surrounded him for years might be right, but when he thinks to the way he looks, face scarred, frame so big he would scare anyone who saw him, he realizes it’s no use. The enchantress had been right, no-one could ever learn to love him.

“It’s no use,” He sighs, teeth gritted in frustration, he’s got a hand on the mantle above the fire, clenched in a fist, “She’s so beautiful,” He admits, because you are, even when fear had covered your features, you were quite possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, “And I’m like this.” He points to his face.

Mrs Thompson moves to stand closer to him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, “Then you need to help her see past all this, don’t scare her with that intimidating scowl you always wear.” She points to his face.

“And when she comes in,” Lucian adds, “Smile at her, make her feel welcome.”

Joel listens back and forth as the two of them give him advice on how to behave when the girl finally arrives. Compliment her. But be sincere. Impress her with your whit. But be gentle. But above all, you must control your temper.

It’s almost overwhelming, he can feel anger and embarrassment flooding through his body. He’s about to demand they stop when the door opens. He holds his breath, standing up straight, but then it’s only Horace’s portly figure that emerges over the threshold.

“Where is she?” Joel demands.

“Well, you see,” Horace begins, “Circumstances being what they are….” He trails off, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the wrath he knows he’s about to be on the receiving end of, “She’s not coming.”

“What?” Joel speaks calmly, although there is rage flowing through his veins, threatening to bubble over at any time.

Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s stomping, feet heavy, from the dining hall. He can feel everyone else following being him, but all he can focus on is how rude this girl is being. Beautiful, but the most stubborn woman he’s ever met, and he’s known her for less than a day. How dare she refuse him? He should have left her where she was to rot in the tower.

There is a pounding at the door, so fierce you’re surprised it doesn’t break, “You were told to come down to dinner!”

You look towards Madame Audra who has fear in her eyes, imploring you to placate whoever the man is currently shouting at you, but you can’t. He’s taken your freedom; you won’t let him control you as well.

“I’m not hungry!”

“You come out right now, or I will break down this door!”

Unbeknownst to you, it isn’t just the master on the other side of the door, but Mrs Thompson, Lucian and Horace too. They’re all looking at each other, knowing that the talk they’d had with Joel in the dining hall has been forgotten, his anger taking over as it always does. They’re all trying to convince each other to talk, through knowing looks, surely one of them can help salvage this situation.

It is Lucian who takes the initiative, “Master, I could be wrong,” He rubs his hands together in front of him, his own nervous habit showing through, “But that probably isn’t the best way to win the girls affections.”

“Please, just attempt to be a gentleman.” Horace adds, making sure he’s standing behind Lucian, so he has a chance to escape if Joel feels the need to take his anger out on anyone.

“How can I when she’s being so difficult?!” Joel hisses, pointing towards the door.

“Just ask her nicely,” Mrs Thompson implores, “Don’t demand.”

Joel takes a deep breath and turns back to the door, the three pairs of eyes trained on his back as he digs deep and tries to remember what it means to be a gentleman, though he’s not been one for some time.

“Will you come down to dinner?”

The answer is almost instant, “Absolutely not.”

Horace is already trying to tame Joel’s frustration when he turns back around to them, “Gentle, be suave, my Lord.”

Another sigh, and another turn back to the door, his voice strained, trying to control his anger to destroy something from the rejection, “It would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner, please.” He speaks through gritted teeth, not quite believing that he is the one begging when she was the one who trespassed.

“No thank you!” You call back through the door.

“You can’t stay in there forever!”

“Yes I can!”

“Fine!” Joel shouts, “THEN YOU CAN GO AHEAD AND STARVE!” He bellows at the top of his lungs, turning around to his servants who are cowering across the hall from him, “If she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all!”

He stalks off back down the corridor, slamming the door at the end of it shut behind him. Madame Audra leaves the girl’s room, looking to her fellow servants before shaking her head. She’s not quick enough in closing the door, because all four of them can hear the racking sobs coming from the room.

“Well, that went terribly.” Mrs Thompson muses, wanting nothing more than to storm into the girl’s room and embrace her.

“Lucian, you stay right here,” Horace directs, slipping right into his role as head of the household in a crisis, “If she attempts to leave, you inform me immediately,” He runs a hand over his greying beard, “We need to be careful with this, she’s a firecracker, and anymore wrong moves and he’ll have her right back up in the cell,” Then he turns to Mrs Thompson and Madame Audra, “Household meeting in the kitchens.”

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