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the-californicationist · 5 months

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✨Masterlist✨

This is the masterlist for The Californicationist's Tumblr & AO3 texts.

All works should be considered 18+ only. MDNI - no exceptions.

CALL OF DUTY

Novel-Length Works

Gunslinger Price/Reader - AO3 - 100k - Complete You open your home as a safehouse for the 141, and your relationship with John Price unfolds into an epic love story.

Guardian Konig/FemaleOC - AO3 - 45k - Complete Konig, inexplicably working with SpecGru, clears out a Konni base and finds a hostage with amnesia, only to fall hopelessly in love with her.

Guile & Guilt Soap/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - Complete Your best friend has warned you to stay far, far away from her younger brother — infamous party boy, Sergeant Johnny MacTavish. However, when she asks you to be her maid of honor in her wedding, you and Johnny end up closer than you ever expected.

The Sin-Eater Price/Reader - Co-Author: @vampirekilmer - AO3 - WIP Captain John Price is a loving husband, a dedicated soldier, and a good man. But, that’s not all he is. Underneath his controlled exterior lurks something dark, something hungry, and something wholly inhuman. You’re his only solace during his wrath, and only you can consume the sin from his shifts.

One-Shot Works

Gauntlet (Kinktober 2023) [External Post] Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 58k - Complete TW: too many to list here 😈 A collection of 30 kink-focused one-shots

Budapest Price/Reader - AO3 - 1.2k - Complete TW: major character death, explicit sex Captain John Price comes home to you a changed man.

Going Home Gaz/Nova - AO3 - 4.3k - Complete TW: explicit sex, voyeurism Gaz and Nova spend their leave together at his childhood home. This is set in the Gunslinger universe.

Gravitational Shift Price/FemaleOC - AO3 - 2k - Complete TW: Space AU, includes the Force from the Star Wars fandom, force-bond sex Captain Price senses a disturbance in the force, and when he bonds with her, he decides he's never letting go.

Ground & Pound Konig/FemaleOC - AO3 - 5.8k - Complete TW: NC/CNC, bondage, violence Konig's ex-girlfriend shows up to the base, and Konig loses his absolute mind over her...and takes things too far.

Growl Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.5k - Complete TW: pegging, femdom When you agreed to come over to John Price’s house for drinks, you had no idea it would escalate so damn swiftly.

The Orchard Price/Reader - AO3/Tumbr - 3.8k - Complete TW: CNC, primal play, bondage John Price chases you through the woods to make sure you learn your lesson.

The Fisherman's Knot Price/FemaleOC - AO3 - 2.9k - Complete ABO AU - Captain John Price rescues a pretty Alpha from a kayaking accident in his fishing cove, his body betrays his gentle nature.

The Honest Man Mace/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.5k - Complete TW: Breeding kink Mace tries to convince you to build a life with him again, especially if it means adding another baby into the mix.

The Missed Deadline Gaz/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.7k - Complete TW: Virginity loss You and Kyle had a virginity pact.

The Fourth of July Alex Keller/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 3.5k - Complete TW: Blow job You and Alex get a little carried away in the pool house.

The Fox & the Hound Soap/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 4.5k - WIP(?) TW: Literal porn, exhibition Your first porno shoot doesn't go exactly to plan. Your co-star, Johnny "Dangerous" MacTavish, sets his sights on you and makes you his personal project. (Labeled WIP because I'm considering a Chapter 02 moment).

The Green Light Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 1.8k - Complete TW: Dubcon/CNC John Price comes home with only one thing on his mind: you and those bright green panties. Even though you're sound asleep, he just can't stop himself.

The Dealer’s Choice 141/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 4.4k - Complete TW: Gangbang The 141 are stranded and you’re the safe house manager. You have fun playing strip poker.

The Simple Mistake Ghost/Soap - AO3 - 1.4k - Complete Soap and Ghost have to hide together, injured and desperate in a shelter until their rescue party arrives.

The Devil's Summer Konig/Named Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 3k - Complete TW: Rape, non-consent, assault, corpses, violence, named reader A tall, foreign stranger comes to town with his masked crew of bandits. They rob the train station and the bank, but the big one… he has his sights set on a different sort of prize: you.

The Advent Calendar Ghost/Soap - AO3/Tumblr - 1.9k - Complete Soap gave Ghost an advent calendar this year. It's a little more romantic than he realized.

The False Alarm 141/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 1.9k - Complete TW: Gangbang Cleaning the pole in the firehouse was hard work, but someone had to do it. But, when your harness broke and you were left dangling there, free to use for a firehouse full of men… you were in charge of cleaning a lot more poles than you bargained for.

There’s more, but I ran out of room! I’m trying to figure out how to fix it. Sorry 😣

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imyourbratzdoll · 6 months

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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - being the granddaughter of the witch that tried to eat hansel and gretel wasn't fun, especially when they come back to seek revenge.

warning - smut, dubcon, swearing, spitting kink, spit roasted, threesome, kidnapping, mentions of death and eating children, mentions of attempted abandonment, oral sex, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Steve Hansel and Nick Gretel (their parents were hoping for a girl) made a pact years ago to never enter the woods again, not after that fateful day of crossing paths with the witch. When they were kids, their mother had unfortunately passed away, causing their father to find solace in the arms of another. They remembered the wedding clearly, how their hearts nearly beat out of their small chests as their father remarried the woman who would bring hell to their small family.

The hatred that leaked from their stepmother’s flesh could only be noticed by them; their father too blind with heartbreak to even notice. At their age, they were too young to understand why their father would remarry if he wasn’t in love with the woman. But as they grew older, bypassing the trauma they experienced. They began to realise their father was trying to fill a void with the first woman that passed.

The one thing you should never do in a fairytale is trust the stepmother, the boys learnt this the hard way. Their family wasn’t the wealthiest, having to survive off the small crumbs that they could find or gather. They trusted the woman when she had said that she found some food they could harvest not too far from their home. Steve being the smartest out of the two, made sure to fill his pockets with some rocks, nodding toward his brother Nick before they followed, creating a small path along the way so they wouldn’t get lost. Their stepmother left after distracting them long enough, ensuring that she could finally get rid of the two extra mouths to feed.

But the boys didn’t worry as the older of the two, gripped his brother’s hand and led him back home. Following the small rocks, and once they stepped foot out of the dreadful woods, they were greeted by their father who had been worried sick. As a small child, you’d think nothing of this, but as their father wrapped the two into a warm, loving hug. Steve looked over his shoulder, resting his chin on his father and smirked at the fuming woman, her lip sneered upwards as she realised her plan had failed.

Her second attempt had somewhat succeeded; she lured the boys back out with the promise of more food. Steve having not collected any rocks that week, grabbed his leftover bread and decided to use that as their way back home. Yet, he had forgotten that they were not the only hungry creatures living in the woods. As a child when you get lost, you become scared and you don’t know what to do, you expect for an adult to come and save you because how could a child do that for themselves? They weren’t built to protect themselves, they had adults for that, adults to learn from so that they could carry on protecting when they got older. The boys were terrified, but Steve wouldn’t show it because it was then that he realised he would be the one protecting his brother from now.

Hands gripped tight, they wondered through the woods hoping to find their way back home until a small shout came from Nick’s mouth, Steve’s head whips around and his eyes widen when he sees a house made completely of gingerbread, decorated with the finest lollies, he could feel his mouth water and before he could stop his brother. Nick dropped his hand and took off running toward the delicious looking house. His mouth already opened as he began to nibble on a pillar, his stomach filling immediately. Steve caught up with him and slowly begin to eat as well, what harm could this do? They were kids, living in a poor home with barely any food to keep their stomach from rumbling every five seconds.

This was where the real horror began, an ugly old woman slammed open the door, screaming at them before she dragged the boys inside. Again, another promises them food, as if there were a giant sign on their head signalling, they needed it. Steve’s eyes darted around the home, connecting with those of a girl’s, her eyes wide and lips pouted. He wondered if the two were related or if she was also kept prisoner as the wicked old witch shoved the boys inside a small cell. She kept mumbling on about filling them up and eating them, causing the boys to try, and come up with a plan to get out of there.

The witch called upon the youngest, telling him to help her with the oven door. The young girl watched from the corner, observing, and ignoring as the eldest boy tried to get her attention. Her grandmother wouldn’t like that, she wanted the young girl to continue studying their witchcraft, wanting her to continue their legacy if anything ever happened to her. She watched as the oven door managed to open, and her grandmother turned toward her, something that she shouldn’t have done as it distracted her from the boy beside her.

“Y/–” The witch is cut off, a scream leaving her as Nick pushes her fat body into the oven. The girl too shocked to move, she felt her body freezing up instead of rushing over to help. Nick stumbles towards his older brother, yanking the cell open and running with him as they escape. Steve turns his head, eyes connecting with the young girls, he gulped as her face slowly morphed into an evil look, her eyes narrowed and dark, with a promise that she will one day become strong enough and find those that killed her grandmother.

As the boys ran for their lives, twists, and turns, narrowly missing the trees and bushes. They somehow managed to exit the woods and head toward their home where their father was, again worried sick for them. He pulled the boys into his arms, holding them tight and listened as they went on about their stepmother and then the witch. None of the boys noticed that the stepmother never made it back, getting lost herself and the father was glad that his boys were home again. Steve and Nick looked at each other and that day they made a pact to never step foot in those woods again.

That pact was broken as the now men wandered into the woods. “I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t step foot into these woods again?” Nick sneered, not being able to ignore the chills that spread through his body at the thought. He gripped the sword tight, one that matched his brothers.

“Father is old, Nick. We are barely passing by as it is, and we need the food. You know that for us to be here again, it is our last resort.” Steve tried getting his brother to understand, he didn’t want to be in these woods either. Not after the look that young girl gave him, after that day he had managed to get the town in on searching for her, of course some believed there was a witch in the woods as their own children have gone missing. But they had all come up empty, which left him to think that they were related. It would explain the look she gave him as they ran out of there.

After that day, the brothers became a bit darker, smarter. Their minds had twisted, no longer sweet and innocent. Nick grunted, kicking a rock that got in his way and watched as it flew across the ground. “I know, but. It feels…” He paused, not knowing what word to use to describe the feeling.

“I feel it too.” Nick felt somewhat relieved that his brother could feel what he felt too, but he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. “Come on, we better get going before dark.” Steve ushered his brother forward, heading in a direction opposite the one that caused their trauma. They took cautious steps as they wandered through the woods, managing to gather some food and kill some animals.

Nick hit his brother’s arm; eyes wide as he gestures to a house in the middle of nowhere. A replica to the one many years ago. Steve can feel rage build inside him as he stares, wishing the place would burn down. “That can’t be the same one. We went another way!” Nick exclaims, horror filling his bones.

Steve launches forward, his feet stomping against the dirt and leaves as he heads toward the house. Nick stumbles along, trying to stop his brother even though he feels the same rage deep inside. They both release a breath as they stop in front of the door, the sweet scent of gingerbread filling their senses. Before Steve can knock, the door flings open, and their mouth falls open.

You stand there, your hair perfectly wild and your long black dress falls gracefully while hugging your figure. Your eyes are sharp as you glare at the two men, it was as though they couldn’t breathe. You were so beautiful, practically glowing as you stared them down. “Who do you think you are trespassing onto my property?!” You growl, starring up at the men as they tower over you. You could feel it in your bones, they felt familiar, as if you knew them from somewhere.

Steve’s eyes widen more than before, your eyes. He had seen those eyes before, his brows furrowed, and the rage continued to build as he connected the dots. You had grown, it wasn’t hard for him to remember those eyes. They had haunted him for years, striking fear deep inside him and his brother. “You! You’re the little girl!” He fumed, only to be held back by his brother as he tries to step forward.

Your eyes widen slightly as you begin to remember who they are. The men that made you an orphan, causing you to watch as your grandmother cooked. “Oh!” And like that, ever so subtly. Your demeanour changes, a soft smile replacing the frown, your eyes lighten and your back straightens. “You’re the boys that saved me! Come in! Come in!” You usher them in, sneering and coiling on the inside as those words slip from your lips. This was the only way you could get revenge, a life for a life. “I’m just preparing myself some dinner if you two would like to join!”

Steve and Nick cautiously follow you inside, looking around. “It’s not children, is it?” Nick lets out a small ‘ow’ while rubbing his head when Steve whacks him, giving him a ‘what the hell’ look. Your soft laugh causes them to slightly relax, thinking you might be different.

On the inside, your laugh is cruel, wicked. You couldn’t wait to watch the brothers burn, finally getting the satisfaction after all these years. “Of course not, why would I eat children?” You bat your lashes innocently at him, smirking inside as he blushes. It was now or never, you needed this. “Could you please help me?” You pout, knowing you have the youngest brother in your palm. “I–I’m too weak to open the door… And I usually end up hurting myself.” It was a long shot, maybe they’d connect the dots, maybe they wouldn’t but you were so close.

Nick nods, beginning to head over. A sense of Deja-vu hits him but he ignores it, you seemed so cute and innocent. What harm could someone as tiny as you do? Steve watches, his stomach twists, trying to tell him something and out of the two brothers he listens. You seemed distracted, only watching Nick so he decides to move slow, sneaking behind you.

You noticed too late, a gasp falls from your lips as Steve grabs hold of you, locking your arms behind your back, pressing against his front. “Let go of me!” You struggle against his hold, sneering at them. “I swear to god if you don’t let me go, I’ll make you regret this!” You yelp as Steve tugs on your arms harshly, pushing you toward your large wooden table.

Nick blinks, looking between you and the oven before letting out a gasp. “Oh my god! It was going to happen again?!” Steve rolls his eyes, gesturing his brother to come help. Nick quickly stumbles forward, taking over for his brother while Steve walks into your line of vision. He crouches down, looking into your eyes while he reaches forward and tucks a fall piece of hair behind your ear.

“Did you really think we’d be stupid enough to fall for that a second time…” Steve looks at Nick before shaking his head, looking back down at you. “Okay, maybe one of us wasn’t stupid enough.” He ignores the small ‘hey’ as he gives you a smirk. “What should we do with you, huh?”

“Let me go!” You sneer, glaring daggers at the man. Nick groans as you push back against him, accidentally grinding against his bulge. You gasp, eyes widening. “You pervert!” You thrash around, your movements not helping the man behind you.

Steve grins as he realises what he’s going to do to you. He reaches forward and grips your chin, tilting your head back enough that it begins to strain your neck. He leans forward, keeping eye contact. “We’re going to have some fun with you, little witch.” The force of his hand causes your mouth to open slightly and your walls clench around nothing as Steve spits into it. Never once has a mere human made you react like this.

You must have zoned out because when you blink, the brothers had swapped positions. Maybe you could taunt one, distract him long enough. You breathe, focusing on the one before you, letting your magic swirl around and enter him. You let out a giggle, “Nick Gretel… Oh, your parents must have–” Your cut off and your eyes widen as a hard but soft object enters your mouth, causing you to choke and gag as it hits the back of your throat. Your eyes move down and widen more as you realise what has entered, you can feel yourself dampen at how big and thick he is.

“Oops, what was that, little witch?” Nick groans, feeling your lips tighten around his throbbing member, your tongue flicking instinctively around his swollen tip. “Shit, I think she’s enjoying this, brother.”

Steve hums, having rolled your dress above your hips while you were distracted and swiping a finger through your glistening folds. “Of course, she is, she’s a slut. Isn’t that right, little witch? You were just desperate for attention.” You whimper around Nick, causing him to let out a groan and jerk his hips. Thrusting deeper into your warm, wet mouth. “You just want to be stuffed, huh? Have us use both your holes, fuck you until you’re dumb. Fill you with our cum, making you want and beg for more.” His words cause your eyes to roll back, your thighs becoming slicker at the thought. Steve smiles, nodding. “Just like I thought.”

He stands, palming his throbbing cock before he releases it. A groan falls from his lips and shoots through to your core as his strokes the thick base. The older brother guides his mushroom tip through your lips, gathering your juices before he pushes in. “Oh fuck… She’s so tight.” Steve grunts, his eyes fluttering as he thrusts deeper, his cock being hugged by your delicious walls. His hands grip your hips as you squeeze him, your moans vibrate around Nick’s cock, and he shouts.

“Fuck! I’m not going to last if she keeps doing that!” Nick holds the back of your head; his head falls forward as he slowly fucks your face. He watches as his cock slides in and out of your mouth, drool slipping out the sides of your mouth, only the whites of your eyes visible. “Such a good little witch, taking me so well.”

Steve thrusts into you hard and fast, holding you down. He groans as his hands move from your hips to your plump cheeks that jiggle with each thrust, he grips them, pulling them apart and squeezing them. “Fuck, who knew a witch could be so pretty. Not like the other one we met.” Steve makes a dig at your dead grandmother, causing anger to build inside of you only to be replaced with pleasure. You tense before slowly relaxing in their hold, sucking desperately on Nick’s cock while his older brother splits you open.

The feel of their pulsing veins, sliding in and out of your holes, their scents invading your senses cause you to become dizzy. You have never felt something so intense before and in response your walls clench and unclench around Steve like crazy, sucking him in deeper, allowing him to hit the spots that are far out of your reach. You moan, tingles erupt throughout your body as Nick buries his cock into the back of your throat and releases, filling your mouth with his cum.

You swallow as he pulls out, slouching into the chair behind him as he watches his brother destroy you with hazy eyes. “O–oh!” You bury your face into the wooden table, hands flying forward and gripping the edge tightly, causing your knuckles to whiten.

Steve growls, leaning forward and towering over you. His hand moves from your arse to the back of your head and pushes it harder into the surface. “You like that, slut? Such a weak fucking witch.” You whimper, tightening around him as your vision becomes white and your juices coat his thick member. Steve groans, continuing to thrust before coating your walls with his cum. Like his brother, he gently pulls out and sinks into the chair behind him, half-lidded eyes watch as your cunt clenches and unclenches around nothing and his cum leaks from your tight hole.

Your chest moves up and down as you breathe, trying to push away the left-over pleasure that runs through your body, you slowly move and fix your dress before lifting your hands. As magic begins to swirl around you and the room, you prepare to get rid of these men once and for all. “This is for my grandmother.”

The brothers ignore the shivers that roll through their body at how chilling your voice is, they look at each other knowing that they will have to do something and fast before the magic can hit them completely.

Steve being the closet decides to distract you while his brother grabs something from his pocket, while your attention remains on Steve, you don’t seem to notice the other sneaking up behind you. You’d think you would learn after last time, but of course, you thought you were strong enough. Your eyes widen when you are suddenly grabbed and before you can even think of using your magic, a cloth is placed on your mouth causing your eyes to become droopy. “You should’ve just been a good little witch…” You hear one of them before you go completely limp.

As they head back in the direction of their home, with you in their arms. You would later learn when you awoke that you should never wait to strike revenge, especially as a witch.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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nefarrilou · 16 days

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Dynamic: Mentor / Mentee Genre: Southern Gothic

@tricoufamily's duo challenge!

-ˋˏ✄ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊱⚱️⊰ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆˚ ‧

⌞ When Heather Charm, the sole non-magical member of her sorcerous family, seeks acceptance from her mother, she forms a pact with a mysterious spirit, who promises to teach her the secrets of magic. ⌝

Amidst the vast halls of the Charm family, where magic infused every corner with its presence, Heather Charm stood as the peculiar exception. Niece to the esteemed Minerva Charm and cousin to the gifted Darrel and Gemma Charm, Heather bore the weight of her lineage with a heavy heart. Branded as the family's black sheep for her lack of magical prowess, she harbored a fervent desire to redeem her honor. With determination ablaze within her, Heather delved into realms beyond conventional magic. Venturing into the enigmatic world of psychic phenomena, she sought solace and strength amidst the whispers of her family's disappointment.

In a moment of audacious resolve, Heather forged an alliance with a potent spirit, binding it to her very essence. In this pact, woven from threads of desperation and ambition, the spirit pledged to guide her along the path less trodden, promising to unearth the latent power that lay dormant within her ancient bloodline. — But in the shadows of uncertainty, whispers lingered. ···································· ➺ using the psychic mod !

(@itsmariejanel I always imagined Heather as also being Jace's cousin as I played her a while back 🤭 However, it's time for her to inhabit her own universe 👋🤧)

#tricoufamily duo challenge #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 mod #sims 4 spellcaster #Heather Charm #sims 4 cas challenge #gif

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 months

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wyll, in my opinion, gets the standard fare treatment for characters that are unequivocally good. i.e. people think he's boring and uninteresting. standard fare might be kind actually given the level of racism and unexplained slander (which is often just more thinly veiled racism). his reputation about being boring is not helped by the very blatant neglect of his storyline post his rewrite and release. as a wyll enjoyer i am hyperaware of the sorry state of his current story in all three acts

despite all of that and the glaring flaws - i still believe that wylls storyline is worth of being engaged with and explored.

one of the reasons (not the most major one, but one) i think wyll experiences so much neglect as a companion stems from a wider idea that "goodness" is always the uncomplicated, easy choice.

it's something i see a lot. wyll is boring because of his archetype as a princely and universally righteous guy. and this is interesting, because it always seems to functions under the assumption that wylls moral character is innate. that his heroic and righteous actions are in some capacity, uncomplicated.

uniquely among the male origin companions, through the course of wylls story - there is never a point in which he is at risk of making a truly 'bad' choice. both gale and astarions story have them at risk of making choices that are ultimately bad for them and others (especially tav when each character is romanced). gales godhood and astarions ascension are their in game moral failings. they are the result of having not broke the cycle and are 'bad' choices for the individual character.

wylls main choice is however his pact and the choice to break that pact. notably - wyll is never at risk of making a bad choice, only a selfish one.

from the critique i see of wyll - it seems like this is the element of him people find most egregious. he's too smooth, not rugged enough, not gritty enough. but i don't think wyll's character needs grit, necessarily.

if you take any time to dissect wyll at all, based on dialogue and character interaction, many of his choices put himself at the forefront of sacrifice. the game strips wyll of a lot of agency, but wyll also always abides by and sticks to his core belief. so often towards his own detriment.

not only does wyll bear the consequence of being turned into a devil (stripping him of the last remaining shred of identity he's ever had and one of the most important things in his life), he bore the burden of being banished when he made his pact, and was willing to do the same for the sake of his father when he is taken to moonrise.

and unlike gale (who i adore, to be clear) who's concept of self-sacrifice stems mostly from a low self-worth - the belief that dying is the best he can do - wyll truly views that it's better him than them.

wyll does not think twice about allowing himself to be the one to take the fall. he can play any part, take any role, even when these choices haunt him so obviously. wyll claims that he forgives his father, but opens up to you about fearing his feelings of missing him are one-sided. he believes that making his pact was the right choice, the one he would make again - but doesn't deny the obvious pain and solace that came along with being a wandering traveler and banished son.

wylls goodness is so deliberate. he is so staunch in upholding and acting on his beliefs that it is always narrative to his own detriment. when you view wyll like this , and view his choices with regards this character attribute, it is imo very hard to hate him.

wyll's goodness is his double edged sword. it makes him heroic, brave, fearless. and it makes him scared, uncertain and lonely. again, the story itself is bare bones and i understand that - but it is so very beautiful to me thinking of him and tav or just his general romance.

as wylls romance partner, encouraging wyll to break his pact is as tragic as it very beautiful. tav is wylls one selfish thing. one of the only reasons that would move him to not give himself up. one of the only reasons he is okay with forgoing his beliefs. he loves tav enough to break his own oaths, and make choices for himself and no one else. not as the blade, or as a ravengard - but just as wyll.

and that aspect of him is in my opinion, enforced, by the mindflayer tav ending. in which wylls monster-hunting and morals are made exceptions with / for tav. my enjoyment of hero corruption might be speaking for me, but i digress.

in every way though - i truly love wyll as a character. and while im well aware of the critical flaws in his in game story state, i think it's both unfortunate and unfair that people call him boring. to me he is anything but

#aristotle.txt #wyll ravengard #bg3 #wyll meta #bg3 wyll #wyll x tav #he is so love of my life coded #this is my experience as a deku defending and lover speaking for me i fear

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m00nlight-ramblings · 3 months

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Waiting Room

You see Astarion again, years after the final battle of the Elder Brain.

Pairings: Ascended Astarion x GN! Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, sad girl hours, discussions and allusions to sex but no smut, NOT a happy ending. MINORS DNI 18+

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Based on "Waiting Room" by Phoebe Bridgers. Get ready to cry because I love hurting my own feelings. Graphic made by me, I do not consent to my work (graphic or writing) to be shared without my permission

The first time you had fallen in love with Astarion was the first time you laid eyes on him.

Sure, the handsome, charismatic vampire had threatened a knife to your throat at first meeting, but that was only because he was scared – unsure if you and the other companions were trustworthy. Though there were ups and downs throughout your journey, eventually you had all fallen into a found family dynamic – looking out for one another as if you had all grown up together, though you were all as different as the next.

It only took a few days for the magnetic connection to take hold between you and Astarion. Once the initial shock of the parasites wore off, you often found yourselves near each other. In battle, tents next to teach other, nights around the fire…where one of you was, usually the other was as well.

The romance started the night of the camp party with the Teiflings. You were sure Astarion was only looking for sex – which, to be fair, was the most incredible sex you had ever had in your life – and that was how he acted.

For a bit.

Late night sneaking into your tent turned into talking until the sun rose, or secret walks alongside creeks, or stolen kisses when the companions weren’t looking. The secretive nature of your love was exciting – a bright light in between the doom and gloom of the Ilithid, and battle, and blood. When Astarion finally started to open up, and the reality of his traumatic past set in, you were there for him in more ways than one.

Soon, the others in camp started to notice. There was no denying how you stole glances at him, or how Astarion looked at you, totally enraptured as you spoke. His smile when you entered the room, or the gleam in your eye as he teased others.

“You two have been in love since the moment you met,” Karlach had mentioned one night, smiling, “We’ve all seen it. There’s no denying it. It’s a beautiful thing to witness throughout this whole thing…in a way, it’s giving us all hope.”

Heavy breathing, gentle touching, hair pulling, and names muttered like prayers. Silent laughter while the rest of camp slept, promises of finding a ring so Astarion could walk freely in the sun, admitting to fantasies of your future together. A renewed hope in both of you, finding solace in each other’s hearts and bodies. Trusting each other with stories of your dark pasts, pacts to never lie, promises to love each other for ever. And ever. And ever. And ever.

Your love. Your light…your life.

“I will love you for my lifetime,” Astarion had promised one night, his voice barely above a whisper. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear gently, “You have brought me a happiness I had never thought possible. My whole life I have lived in fear…only after meeting you have I finally begun to know joy.”

Eventually, you had made your way to Cazador’s palace – the plan in place to stop the ritual, kill him, and set free the rest of the spawn. Astarion came face to face with his past, and confronted his actions and decisions head on, ready to settle the score and start anew. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before – Astarion stabbing Cazador so many times it seemed like there wasn’t any blood left. His body covered, as his heaving sobs wracked his body so hard he shook, his cries echoing through the dark hall. Tears in all of your eyes – Karlach and Gale holding you back to give Astarion his time to mourn the past 200 years. All he needed to do was free the spawn, to give them another chance at life, and you could leave, Astarion leaving behind the trauma and hurt.

But something happened. Something went wrong.

Before you knew it, the ritual was completed. The cries from the bodies of the dying spawn had infiltrated your ears before you could figure out what was happening – Astarion had finished the ritual, ascending. Never to fear again, only to be feared. Tears fell openly from your eyes, screams from your throat, fear in your heart. Why Astarion did it, you would never know.

All you knew was that the future that both of you had longed for was gone, never to be seen again.

You tried your hardest to stay with Astarion, to be by his side like you promised. But when you tried to discuss his newfound love of evil, he turned on you – he didn’t want a partner, he wanted a slave. A pet in a way…someone to follow exactly what he wanted to do, and say. His offer of turning you into his spawn made you sick – the words he spat at you when you told him “no” forever ingrained in you forever.

“I can’t believe I thought you were worthy of a life with me,” He said, his dark eyes shining, “When this little journey to finish the Elder Brain is done, so are we. I never want to see you again – the very sight of you makes me sick.”

Your whole life turned to tragedy in the blink of an eye, and you were so depressed, you didn’t even truly feel there. In fact, you and Astarion never spoke another word to another the rest of the time around each other, which only worsened the blow of your depression.

Numb the rest of the journey, you tearfully finished your task, saving Baldur’s Gate and more. The months you had travelled together, you had envisioned a giant sendoff together when you were done – food, drinks, dancing, music…to celebrate your victory and time together. One last party before you parted ways.

Instead, you silently slipped off into the night, never saying goodbye to any of your companions. Thinking it would be the easiest move for your shattered heart, you decided to push that time in your life aside, even though it was the most important time in your life.

A shell of your former self, constantly thinking about Astarion. About the Astarion that once was. Life returned back to “normal” – back to working in Baldur’s Gate, pubs with friends, research on magic in your library. Trying to enjoy the life you had desperately wanted to return back to when you were first infected, only to miss the life you had cultivated while in the midst of battle.

Trying to return back to him.

Even though he no longer existed.

The moon shone high in the night, a starless sky. You were leaving the inn; a party for a friend’s birthday. You were the last one to leave, helping them close down the bar. Even though you didn’t have much to drink, you tried to stay around for as long as possible, desperate to not be home alone.

The pub was in an off street of the main road, and its location combined with the late time of night made for a quiet walk home. You’d be back in a half hour or so…you tried to enjoy the warm evening air, reminding yourself of the beauty surrounding you.

The moon is beautiful, You thought, trying to look for happiness in the small things, The air smells nice. The warmth feels good.

Your footsteps echoed in the night, your arms wrapped around yourself like protection. You tried to not think too hard about feelings often – even after two years, your thoughts would always wander back to Astarion, given the chance. As if you had no choice in the matter.

Suddenly, a rustling. You stopped walking, trying to get a better idea of the sound. You narrowed your eyes, your heart immediately racing. You didn’t dare move, but instead swiveled your head so you could stay put.

Nothing. Silence.

You had just began walking when you heard the voice.

“I never thought I would see you again.” He said.

You stopped in your tracks, your body turning to ice. Slowly, you turned towards the voice, your heart racing so hard you could feel the blood pumping in your head. Your fingertips buzzed with adrenaline, and your throat immediately became dry. You instantly met his gaze.

Astarion.

Standing in the shadows of the back alleyway you were walking down, he took a step forward. In an outfit adorned in shining black metal, intricate weavings fit for a king. His trademark smirk was nowhere to be found, only his dark, ruby eyes.

He looked absolutely breathtaking.

“You said you didn’t want to.” You finally were able to manage, your voice more of a whimper. Your worst fear coming true – you knew that Astarion had resided in the same city as you, but you didn’t think you would ever come face to face with him again. The city was big, he was a vampire lord…so many variables.

He chuckled – one quick sound. “I can’t believe you remember what I said.” He took a step forward, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You could feel the frown on your lips.

“I’ll never forget it.”

Astarion paused to look at you, his expression unreadable. Finally, he took another step closer to you and spoke again, “I smelled you…a bit ago. At first, I thought I was going crazy – I thought it couldn’t be. But I decided to investigate and…here you are. After all this time.”

You were not afraid. You knew he would do nothing to you – your fear of seeing him again was not rooted in fear of your life. It was rooted in fear of your heart – how long would it take you to numb yourself again, now that he was standing in front of you again? Weeks…months…years? You had barely begun to feel normal again.

“I hope you are faring well after our adventure,” He spoke again, his voice far away. He was close to you now, a foot or so away. “I’m assuming you are living here now.” He spoke as if we were old colleagues, not former lovers. Not as two people who thought they were destined for one another.

You nodded, “I’ve came back home. After we were done.”

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

“I couldn’t.” Your voice began to catch in your throat. Astarion noticed, nodding. Giving you space to feel for a moment. After a minute or so, it seemed he was done – he turned to walk away.

Just like that.

“Do you regret it?” You called after him, causing him to stop. He didn’t turn around, but merely stared straight ahead. Your tears threatened to fall as you spoke, “Ascending. Do you regret turning into this?”

Astarion stayed so still you had thought time stood still. Crickets chirped around you, and you could hear the blood pulsing in your body the silence was so heavy. Eventually he turned slowly, taking a few quick steps to you, a smirk on his lips.

“Regret it? Regret it! Regret being one of the most powerful vampires, of never living in fear? Of having every desire, every want, every need met?” His eyes darted between yours, “Of having any body I want, whenever I want?” A blow to your heart – Astarion had added it to hurt you, of that you were sure. “No, darling, I don’t regret it at all. I savor it.”

You nodded, unable to say anything. His smile was a slap in your face – the Astarion you had once loved was completely gone, washed away with everything you had known about him. Instead, standing in front of you was someone you didn’t even know. In that moment, you realized something: ever since he had ascended, you were grieving the death of him. And grief, you knew, never went away, which is why it was so hard for you to think about. The death of who Astarion used to be never left you.

“I loved you,” You said. You shook your head slowly and smiled, embarrassed you were even discussing it. “I loved you more than I had loved anyone ever in my entire life. I will never love someone the way I loved you. I loved you so wholly and completely and fiercely, I-” Your voice broke, the tears steadily streaming down your face now, “I wasn’t sure of anything – if we would survive the journey. If we would defeat the Elder Brain. I wasn’t even sure of who I was half of the time…but there was one thing I was sure of: I was sure that if you were by my side, I would always have the courage to try. I’d have the courage to keep going.” You had to stop yourself, the tears turning into sobs. Your voice trailed off as you wiped the wetness from your face.

Astarion’s face was a snarl, almost disgusted with what you said. He took a small step back, as if he was unable to deal with your emotion.

“Why did you do it?” You asked through your sobs, your voice almost a scream, “How could you finish that ritual? How could you ascend? After everything we talked about, everything we promised each other…you became the very person you hated!”

“You have no idea!” Astarion shouted, his face suddenly centimeters from your face. You felt his hot breath on your cheeks, his voice causing you to jump, “You have no idea what I had been through in my life. That ritual? The ascension gave me freedom! I have become exactly who I was destined to be,” He laughed, extending his arms, “I am exactly who I want to be. I was not meant for a soft life – for a life of love or domesticity, or stillness. I was meant for more.” He started to pace, seemingly overwhelmed, his voice never lowering below a shout, “And you could have lived that life with me! You could’ve had everything you ever wanted…a castle. Jewels. Servants. The finest garments…we could have made love every night until the sun rose. I would have had you screaming my name so regularly, it would become commonplace.” He stopped his pacing and was close to your face again. He was red with anger, his voice finally lowering to a murmur, “But you were weak. You were…pathetic. Saying no was the biggest mistake of your life.” He was breathing hard, his shoulders moving up and down so harshly they seemed to move on strings.

The silence between you was so loud that your ears rang. You took a deep breath in, trying to steady yourself. “That isn’t love, Astarion. I wanted nothing but you. I didn’t need a castle, or servants…I just wanted you. The you that was before.” You took a step back, overwhelmed. You were so overcome with emotion that you felt like you were going to faint. Finally, you decided you needed to leave. Taking one last look into his eyes, you spoke again, “I’m sorry you felt you weren’t worthy of a life of love.”

Without waiting for a response, and hoping you would never see him again, you turned to walk away. You had only made it a few steps before Astarion spoke again.

“You were a gift, you know,” He said, so softly, that if you weren’t listening, you wouldn’t had heard him. You stopped, but didn’t turn. “You are someone who deserves a life so full of love, that every day you are reminded of how much. I…” He sighed. “I am not a someone who could have given that to you.”

Stifling a sob, you finally turned. You looked at Astarion, and for a moment, you saw a flash of the old Astarion, before the ascension. He looked at you, and for the first time in gods knows how long, he looked unsure of himself. His expression reminded you of the first time he had told you that he loved you.

“I’ve never done this before, but…” Nervously, Astarion took your hands, looking into your eyes, “But I love you. At least…I think I do. I’m not quite sure that I know what love is, really, but darling what you make me feel? Is unlike anyone has ever made me feel…and it’s a good feeling. And incredible, perfect feeling, actually. And I promise every day to try and make you feel the same…to remind you how much I love you.”

You smiled softly, sadly, unable to do much else. Fully facing him, you stood tall. “Astarion…I hope the life you chose fulfills you…I hope it’s worth it.”

Astarion looked at you for a minute more, and for a moment, you thought he would smile. That he would smile, and rush to you, and kiss you – that somehow this was all a spell that needed to be broken. That this could’ve been the beginning of the rest of your lives together…the life that you both had spent nights fantasizing together.

But he nodded curtly, and left, his footsteps silent in the night.

The feeling of sadness crushed you, sending you to your knees. You let your sobs echo into the night, releasing everything you had left. You could only hope that this could act as some sort of closure, that the grief you’d feel wouldn’t ruin you.

That it was a way to move forward, not backwards.

No, it’s for the better,

I know it’s for the better.

---

As always, comments, reblogs, likes mean a lot (especially comments and reblogs!) brb gonna go cry now bye.

#astarion romance #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion one shot #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanfic #astarion fan fiction #astarion ancunin #astarion angst

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babybeel · 2 years

Text

— cold shoulder giving them the silent treatment ; req by anon

lucifer marvels at the rarity of your spats, communication between the pair of you clear and efficient. most fights end before they had truly even started. but this time is different, this time is bad. his words had cut deep, casting doubt on your relationship, and his traitorous sin had forced the apology back down his throat despite your pained expression. your silence was fair, your hurt was understandable, the demon justified as he found himself missing the laugh only he could pull out of you. and he hoped your silence would soon come to an end. but then lucifer saw you with simeon. an angel. his old brother. arms linked as you walked back from rad, happiness clear on your expression as you bit back a laugh. in an instant, lucifer is by your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and tugging you out of simeon’s way, holding you close with a churning stomach that begged you to not to move away. you humoured him as you returned to the house of lamentation, knowing the battle between his head and his heart. it was in his room - a place familiar to very few - that a tiny “i’m sorry” tumbled gracelessly into the air and you smiled in forgiveness. lucifer’s pride subdued in only that way you could ever cause.

mammon is surprising. more than used to his clingy ways, you’d half expected him to cave when he saw you purse your lips and harden your stare. but instead he let out a harsh scoff and called you “immature.” you turned your head and the treatment continued. each interaction with mammon over the next few days ends with him muttering what a “dumb human” you are under his breath and your heart tugs, wondering just how hard you are to love. a week’s gone by when mammon feels the sting of your absence, emptiness beginning to stir in his chest, and he makes for the casino in all his avoidance. it serves for the best distraction, huge earnings coming his way and he leaves with jangling pockets and a beaming smile on his face. and it’s at his highest does mammon feel the stark contrast of the sadness that seeps through your pact. the jarring sensation has him rushing back to the house, knuckles rapping against your door echoing his pounding heart. bags of grimm are pushed into your hands as soon as you open up, almost more than you can hold, and as you break your silence to whisper a gentle “mammon?” the words fly, “i’m sorry. please don’t think i could ever stop loving you.”

leviathan takes a day or two to mope, missing your easy conversation, your easy touch. he finds solace in his room, surrounded by his figurines and games and aquatic creatures. henry 2.0 is his only true friend, he sulks. but levi can’t stay out of your path at mealtimes. and it’s not long before he notices how you guffaw with mammon, whisper with asmo, grin with belphie. levi feels his sin clutch his heart like a vice, tight and painful and angry. his lips turn down into a frown, stare piercing as he watches you interact with everyone but him. and if envy is anything, it’s bitter and it’s spiteful. levi ignores you with purpose, still making sure he’s in your view as he finally spares a glance to his fanclub and interacts with the pretty demon who had been catching him in the streets, even if only to enlist him into their cult. this time, it’s your heart that clenches harrowingly, heat pricking sharply at your eyes before you’re fleeing back to the house of lamentation and into the safety of your room. your pitiful sobs can be heard from the hallways when levi returns and in a burst of emotion, he storms into your room. “i love you,” he whispers again and again, entire being wrapped around you. and surrounded fully by leviathan, you can’t help but believe him. you truly do.

arguments with satan are few and far between, so when they do occur, they’re explosive and fiery, leaving a thick tension across the entire house. you both take time to yourself, hiding away in your rooms, and it’s only when a week passes that satan truly notices your avoidance. the distance sends sparks of anger blazing through his veins, from his fingertips to his heart, and he hates how desperately he tries to grasp at his slipping control. there’s nothing he wants more than to avoid another fight with you, reminders of the hurt you’d both caused still lodged into his mind, resurfacing in his thoughts at only the worst of times. so instead, satan returns to his room, locking himself away and unintentionally matching your treatment. but it stings - the thought that your boyfriend refused to even see you, and the pain only blooms. at first, satan thinks the knock on his door is beel, who had dutifully been taking dinner to his older brother. but when the remorse and guilt and sorrow floods through his pact, he knows it can only be you. the door opens without another second but your gaze is still averted when you murmur, “i’m sorry, i don’t want it to feel like we’re better off apart.” satan’s eyes grow wide and his words are uncharacteristically rushed as he blurts, “no! i just needed time, i promise. i swear i’ll always love you” and as you finally meet his stare, the warmth that passes through your shared pact lets him know everything’s going to be ok.

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sosa2imagines · 3 months

Text

Promises broken, promises kept.

Warnings- Angst, comfort and fluff, pregnancy. -----------------------------------------------------

"I'll never break your heart." You keep thinking about it, why did you believe that line? Isn't it obvious when someone says that, they will break your heart?!

When you had joined the Avengers, your sole purpose was to help save the world. But as days went by, you became friends with everyone. Especially closer to Steve. Looking after Bucky brought you both closer. But you guys never crossed the line beyond friendship. Things were good.

When the infinity war happened and Tony took retirement, while the rest turn to dust. The remaining you were devastated. While Natasha was trying her best to get to Clint, along with running the world, you and Steve found solace in each other. The first time it happened was, when Steve ended up having a nightmare about Bucky and he slept with you. After you had calmed him, you both ended up kissing each other and one thing led to another.

You had strictly made the pact to be only friends with benefits. And that's how it was. Most nights were spent in bed together having amazing sex. Steve was obsessed with every single curve on your body. But as time went by Steve started to fall for you or atleast that is what you think.

"I promise you Y/n I will never break your heart." How naïve of you to believe him. Despite your past experiences and he knowing about them, you gave in. You both were officially a couple.

When Scott showed up and the possibility of getting everyone back came true. Everyone got to work along with Tony. When everyone came back from the past with the stones, you all were mourning Natasha, but your heart hurt a little bit more when Steve just couldn't stop talking about how close he was to Peggy. Like a good listener you listened to him with a smile on your face and the night ending in sex. Getting everyone back came with another cost. You lost Tony. You couldn't even tell him he was going to be an uncle. Yes, you got pregnant, apparently little bit of carelessness cost you. But you were not complaining.

When you told Steve the good news, you were hoping for any reaction instead of a "That's great, I'm happy". You tried and tried to ignore the burning sensation. Maybe you are over-reacting or just thinking too much. Just a week before the actual day of going back in time to return the stones, Steve took part in the trial of the time machine. You were scared to death. But Steve promised you “Nothing will happen to me baby doll, I’ll come back to you. I promise” And nothing truly happened to him. He kept his promise. He came back safe and sound. Just not alone though. He came back with Peggy, holding her close to his side. Steve’s eyes never left Peggy who was looking around in awe. But you still had faith in him. Maybe he is just happy and nothing else.

Bruce was the first to break the silence, while Sam and Bucky stood next to you protectively. “What have you done? You can’t play with past, present and future!” Finally, Steve’s gaze falls on you all, before opening his mouth, “Look I know you all are upset.” Taking a step forward from the platform with Peggy. “Peggy wanted to see the future, I’m going to take her back when I go to return the stones.” Before anyone can say something else, Steve started introducing Peggy to everyone. “Sergeant Barnes, so good to see you.” Peggy smiles, “Yeah, Hi Peggy.” He replies somewhat uncomfortable about the situation, glaring at Steve. When it came to introduce you to Peggy, Steve was bit nervous. But he had no choice, since everyone around, except for Peggy, knew about your relationship with Steve. Having waited enough, you introduced yourself, “Hi Peggy, I’m Y/n, Steve’s girlfriend.” Peggy’s smile faded, the anger on her face, if looks could kill, Peggy just murdered you in more than ten ways.

Later that day when everyone was back in the compound, Steve refused to leave Peggy alone. He brought her back to your shared apartment, to live with you and him. “Peggy, please listen to me, it is not what you think like, I was alone here, you have no idea how much I have lost, that’s when Y/n came into my life and I found solace in her.” Steve explains with puppy dog like expression, Peggy was furious, how dare you steal her Steve? Peggy was not going to let that happen. She would make Steve realize, he belongs to her and not you. “Oh Steve, I’m back now, you are not alone anymore. We can live our life, just the way we wanted.” Steve was over the moon, when he heard Peggy say this. But at the same time, he knew this was not possible for them at the current moment and then there was you, carrying his child. “Y/n…she is pregnant.” Steve tells her hesitantly, Peggy was not in the mood to hear any of this, as much as she wanted to rip Steve apart, she knew she had to be careful, with her words. “Is it yours?” “I..think so” Steve lies, while Peggy smirks. “Then there’s nothing to worry about. Show me around darling, we have got little time for ourselves.” And that’s what he did, Steve spent his time with her. Even the nights were spent with her. Steve would often come to bed late, after you did go to sleep.

He took Peggy to all the places he has been with you. From museum, to the diner, to the secret lake just behind the park. Whatever Peggy wants, Steve does that. Thankfully, you did get some alone time with Steve, only when Peggy use to go for bath. Apart from that time, she would be stuck by his hip. “It’s feels like ages, I have spent some time with you Steve.” Steve looks at you when you mention that, giving you a half smile. “Oh, baby doll, are you jealous?” He teases, but that didn’t hurt you, the fact he can’t see the pain in your eyes, hurt you the most. One night on your way to the kitchen, you saw Steve and Peggy dancing, to close to comfort, her eyes were closed, head resting on his chest. While Steve looked at her in adoration. When he saw you, he gave you a curt nod and a smile which you returned.

Maybe, just maybe Steve is using this time to be with her, till she goes back again. Maybe just maybe you have nothing to worry about. The night before the big day, Steve at last came to bed early. You both ended up having the best sex! Something the way he was nuzzling into you made you feel something is not right. “Steve?” “Umm?” “I’m, scared.” “Don’t be scared Y/n, everything is fine.” The way he said your name instead of baby doll, made you flinch. He did never call you by your actual name. “You’ll come back to me, right?” “I promise you.”

The next day, Steve was standing on the platform with Peggy, looking very happy. His hand firm on her back. He looks at everyone, before finally glancing at you with a small smile. He nods to Bruce to start, and on a count of five Steve is back in the past with Peggy.

Bruce, Sam, Bucky and you waited and waited. Five hours went by, Bucky was the first to break the dreading silence. "He is not coming back, punk." Sam gave him a look to warn him about you, but you just raised your hand and instinctively held your stomach with your free hand and ran away from there. When you reached the apartment, shared apartment, you fell on the floor and cried your heart out. Everything hurt, the pain was unbearable. The loneliness and emptiness started to haunt you. The pictures of you and Steve were looking like they are laughing at your misery. You took each and every single frame and threw it on the floor with mighty force, removing your anger. Your appetite was lost, you barely took care of yourself, forgetting you are pregnant.

When no one heard from you for a week, Bucky and Sam came to meet you. When you didn't open the door, Sam thought you might be out, but Bucky felt something wrong so before Sam can stop him, Bucky broke the door. They met with the site of dirty house, picture frames broken, Bucky kept on calling your name, when he reached the bedroom his heart sank. You were lying unconscious on the ground. "SAM!". They both took you to the hospital. That's when the doctor told them that you are pregnant and suffering from stress and dehydration. Sam was furious and angry with Steve, while Bucky was in his own dilemma. 'Did Steve know? What if he does not know? When did you found out? Do you regret it? What are you going to do now? How will you do it alone?'

After some hours you regain consciousness. "Bucky?", the mention of his name brought him out of his thoughts. "Y'/n, how are you feeling?" "Bucky, what happened?" you ask voice barely above whisper. "Doll, you were unconscious, because of stress and dehydration." You panicked when Bucky told you that, hand immediately going on the stomach, Bucky sensed it and was quick to inform you "The baby is fine. But you need to rest and take good care." Relief washed over you, tears forming in your eyes. Bucky took hold of your hand, sitting next to you, "Y/n?" "Umm?" "Did...did Steve...did Steve know?" You cried at that question just nodding your head unable to talk, what you didn't realize was Bucky crying with you. Bucky couldn't believe Steve left you in this state. What was he thinking? This was not his best friend and brother. "I'm sorry Y/n, I'm so sorry", you and Bucky cried together, Sam left to give you both some privacy and to hide his own tears. "Are you going to...what have you decided...have you decided on anything?" "I'm going to keep it" you sniffle, Bucky nodded his head in response. "Let me help you please" you were about to interrupt before he raised his hand to let him speak first. "For friendship shake, you have done a lot for me, please let me be there for you."

Bucky was quick to convince you. You refused to go back to your and Steve's apartment. So Bucky took you to his. Now his minimal furniture home was full of furniture, in door plants and other necessities. You made his home, cozy and homely. You both took care of each other. And to be honest you were glad he was there for you. The cravings and mood swings were getting better of you.

Bucky did not complain once. Even when you made him to eat peanut butter and cheese sandwich. "Doll you sure, you are craving this?" he gulps nervously looking at you, while you are busy devouring the sandwich, in a muffled voice you replied "Oh just try it and even if you don't like it, I can eat it." Bucky tried and surprisingly he liked the combination and before he could actually finish the sandwich happily, you were looking at him with teary pouty look, okay not at him but his sandwich, which he hesitantly gave it to you.

One night you had a nightmare about Steve coming back to take your baby away, you cried hyperventilating, breathing becoming difficult, Bucky stayed all night with you, helping you. "Please don't go Bucky, stay with me please" you begged and Bucky was quick to cup your cheeks wiping your tears "Doll I'm always with you and no one is going to take away our child, I promise you." When Bucky said 'our child' you felt secure. Since that night Bucky was the father of your baby.

He didn't even get angry when on random times, you use to miss Steve. "What if he is stuck in time?" "Then, he will do anything to come back to you." "What if Peggy has forced him to stay?" "Then I promise you I'll go back in time and kill her." “Ste…Steve he promised, maybe I did something wrong….” Bucky cups your cheeks to stop you from rambling and getting nervous again “Hey, hey look at me Y/n, I believe you doll. You didn’t do anything wrong. Steve is a fucking idiot, he has no idea what he has lost. I promise you doll I will protect our child and I will never leave you.”

The last month of the pregnancy was difficult, with the constant fear of going into labor. Ten days were left for the baby to born. But on the fifth day you were restless. The fact that you were dealing with this pregnancy for so many months with all these struggles, pains and discomforts made Bucky feel so empathetic towards you. You were really strong minded still fighting it all and that's what he loved about you.

He saw that you were getting really restless and he knew what it meant. It was a clear signal that the baby might actually be coming today. He was nervous, but he needed to keep his calm and make sure everything was taken care of. He didn't want you to worry about a thing.

"There should be a machine, where the mother can transfer the womb into the father...ow!" You tried to joke to ease the pain. "Wow! That's a really nice idea. If only we could get that machine and I could do the whole process in my body instead of you going through all these pains and discomforts." Bucky replied keeping the humor. "No! I don't want you to be in pain" you cried, damn mood swings! He laughed at this statement of yours. The way you were being so protective of him even in this phase was very sweet. "Oh doll! It's the other way around. I wouldn't want you to be going through all these discomforts either. I'd take all the pain myself if I could."

"I really appreciate that Bucky....oh my god" you whined in pain. Bucky was watching you as you were pacing back and forth. As soon as you said "oh my god" he got up, his instinct was already kicking in and he ran to hold you. He was watching you closely because he knew you had started getting contractions now.

"Please tell me the wetness on the floor is something else", as he looked at the floor, it was wet and his face changed. He knew what that meant. He took your hands to comfort you. "Your water broke. We need to go to the hospital now and as fast as possible."

"Nah, I must have peed, I need to sleep!" He could feel that you were getting more and more nervous, going into a panic right now. So he needed to support you more than ever now. He was trying to keep you calm but it was hard. "It's okay doll. I know you're not ready for it but it's only natural that it should happen. You can do it my love. I'm going to be right here besides you, so don't worry at all."

He was holding you tightly and making sure that you didn't fall down. He was being so protective of you right now, trying to support and keep you calm. He didn't want you to panic right now as that the last thing he wanted during this stage.

"Don't forget the bag and call Sam to help you." Again, you were thinking about him, when you supposed to think about yourself and the baby. He quickly rushed into the other room to bring the bag which had all the items you would need. He returned soon with the bag in his hands. Bucky carried you in his arms towards the car, making you sit comfortably. He immediately calls Sam to inform him.

Your contractions were getting a little bit more painful now as you started struggling with the pain. Bucky was very calm even at this very moment. He had a sense of responsibility that he needed to take care of you. Your condition was clearly deteriorating and he needed to stay composed and strong for you. As he started driving, he was just trying to keep you calm and make you breathe slow and deep. You tried to distract yourself by focusing on the people on the road, to thinking about food, even the new Sylvester Stallone movie. Bucky was proud to see you being brave despite being in pain.

As soon as you reached the hospital you were taken to the maternity ward. The delivery was complicated, you nearly fainted twice, Bucky kept on encouraging you, telling you how proud he is. Labor was hard. But with lots of struggle your daughter was born. Healthy half super solider. When you held her, you cried but this time because of happiness. In the end the pain was worth it. Bucky was scared to hold her, but you encouraged him. When your baby girl got comfortable in his arms, Bucky couldn't believe it. He felt so many emotions. He secretly vowed to protect you both and keep you happy.

The nurse asked if you had decided on a name for the baby, which you immediately told her with confidence and no hesitation "Natalia Sarah Barnes." Bucky was shocked, he asked the nurse to give you some time to think, but you refused to change the name. The nurse left and Bucky looked at you for confirmation. "Doll, you gave Natalia my last name" "I know after all she is your daughter, Bucky" "I'm not...are you sure?....you can" before he can finish you spoke again, "Bucky remember when I had the nightmare about Steve taking her away?" Bucky nodded "You said you will protect our child, since then she was yours." Bucky was speechless, his eyes teary Natalia in his arms, he couldn't believe you gave her his last name.

Unlike Steve, Bucky never broke the promises he made to you and your daughter. He was a man of his words. He would do anything for you both.

As years went by things were starting to look good. Natalia was three now. Bucky was her dad and she was proud of him. Of course, you had told her about Steve, but it was her decision on what she wants to do.

As for you and Bucky, you both know, your relationship is more than just friendship, but at the moment you both are focusing more on Natalia rather than yourselves. But the possibilities of you both being together is endless.

----------------------------------------------------- @ashhsage I hope you like this, and sorry it took so much of time to get it done. -----------------------------------------------------

#sebastian stan characters #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #chris evans characters

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greatlydelirious · 1 year

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

Kratos x F!Reader

wordcount: 4.1k words

summary: Two lost souls find comfort in each other’s company.

warnings: slow-burn, falling in love, angst, fluff, bedsharing, lore heavy

a/n: This is a teaser of a scene between the reader and Kratos in the giant fic, “Of Gods and Men” that I’m writing. This is my “proof of concept” for you guys that I’m actually working on it. (The reader is OC in regards to some characteristics, but skin color is not specified.)

“…There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.” - Homer, The Iliad

Voices ignite like fueled flames outside Kratos’s bedroom as someone enters Sindri’s home. Not just anyone can stir up that much ruckus though. The arrival of Kratos always elicited a flurry of questions and action. Despite your want to check on the god you don’t move from your supine position on the hard bed.

You continue to count the cracks in the ceiling above as if the number you came up with would unearth some deep truth within yourself. Time became a foreign concept as you tried to convince your body to relax. Sleep is elusive to you despite your mind’s craving for rest. Sindri told you, just as he did Atreus, that sleeping would make all the troubles of your mind work themselves out. Easier said than done.

That’s how you find yourself on a bed that’s not yours. One that you’ve only slept in once but couldn’t forget the feeling of. The furs below smell of him, earthy with notes of smoke and musk that remind you of the lush jungles in your home realm of Vanaheim.

Home.

It had been centuries since the last time you felt the security of such an ideal. To the dismay of your fickle heart, you felt that sense of contentment that comes with being home merely weeks ago in the arms of another. Someone you tried to remind yourself you couldn’t have. Someone who, like you, made a pact to never let themselves be kept in mind or body to another again.

It’s strange how night devolved hardened hearts into feeling such soft vulnerability. Memories have a way of burrowing deep in the brains of even those who try to forget. You’re sitting at the dining table in front of the roaring furnace. The warmth doesn’t completely stave off the coldness that stems from more than just the weather.

Sindri’s home is filled with a rare stillness, but it only works to grate on your nerves rather than bring you peace. Solace is nearly impossible to find in a world full of gods and men. Throw in the endless monsters and magic, and the notion is nothing but a fantasy for the whimsical. That you are not.

Your head darts up when a large shadow appears across the table. Wood groans as Kratos settles in the seat. It’s not often that the two of you get to sit in each other’s company alone without having other things on your mind like hunting or survival. The gripes of being a god and goddess in the opposition to the All-Father are endless.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Kratos grunts in response as he reaches for the pitcher of mead abandoned in the middle of the table. He fills the large tankard next to it to the brim before putting the pitcher back down with a weighty thump. You watch transfixed as Kratos’s adam’s apple bobs with each pull he takes from the cup.

The veins in his neck bulge and when some droplets of mead spill from the corners of his mouth, you can’t help but trail their path down his beard. For a moment you forget what was keeping you up in the first place.

“Something troubles you.”

A statement, not a question.

“I’m fine, Kratos. My woes matter not.” You feign indifference as you lean back in your chair, like his notice of your mood doesn’t make your heart leap in your chest.

Kratos leans forward, his hulking form hovering over some of the table, “Speak the truth, woman.” The word woman comes out in a growl, lingering with a threat that would never be followed through. Yet, it’s still effective enough to make you give in.

Your eyes move to focus on the expertly crafted wooden surface under your hands. Calmness is common nature for you, but something about Kratos’s piercing gaze makes you fumble to find words. Dryness coats your mouth as if your body was cursed to not utter your torment.

“I had a twin sister once. Her name was Hnoss, everyone always said we were identical, but I still think she was prettier. She…”

When your voice begins to crack you stop. Emotions you’ve suppressed for hundreds of years come bubbling to the surface. Thinking about your sister was one thing, but voicing it out loud made it all too real again. Like she’s not what haunts your dreams, but the young girl you once played in ponds and climbed trees with.

“Go on.”

The earnestness makes you chance a glance up. A small, sad smile curves your lips at the sight of Kratos’s focus trained on you. He may not say much, but he always listened. No wonder Mimir didn’t mind being stuck with the man.

“She often went to Bifröst, a rainbow bridge that reaches between Midgard and Asgard, hoping to run into our father. People predicted that Hnoss would reunite our parents. Alas, hope is not always enough to alter reality.”

Kratos slides his tankard toward you, giving you a moment of reprieve without a word. Picking it up, you swirl the amber ale with a twinge of bitterness. Normally you would say gods made pitiful fathers. That was until you met Kratos and Atreus.

The god makes a habit of surpassing expectations.

Sending a quick prayer to the lost goddess mother of Vanaheim you take a giant swig of the mead. Soft notes of bready malt accompany aromatics with a musty, oaky finish coats your tongue. A clicking noise escaped through your teeth as you cringe at the overpowering taste.

The sound of Kratos humming in approval grounds you from your wandering thoughts. You nod at him in appreciation before taking a steadying breath and continuing,

“During her visits, there was a god by the name of Heimdall who kept watch over the rainbow bridge that would entertain her with stories of old and new. One day he revealed to Hnoss that he possessed night vision and never slept. He also claimed to have existed since the beginning of time and told her tales about the creation of various things.

While our father remained absent, Hnoss was taken to Baldur's Stead to comfort her in her sorrow since it was believed to be a place where healing occurred. Baldur’s wife Nanna would often cradle her during these times of profound need. One time in particular, with Nanna by her side, Hnoss shared a strange dream she had about Queen Hela, a queen who was half living woman and half corpse. In her dream, Hela entered Asgard and declared ‘A lord of the Aesir I must have to dwell with me in my realm beneath the earth.’ Hnoss was paralyzed by fear after experiencing this dream.”

You take another swig from the tankard before handing it back to Kratos. Obsidian eyes stay locked on you as their owner downs the rest of its contents.

“What happened to your sister?”

“Hnoss was never the same after that. They say that those who use seidr magic will eventually succumb to the evils of its art. Unfortunately for her, it was true. Similar to Baldur, she died a needless death.”

And just like all of the Vanir people. Many of their lives were taken by the power-hungry Aesir for no other reason than greed. Peace in these realms always comes at a price.

“So that’s why I’m troubled, Kratos. Now my own dreams are filled by her. No matter how hard I try to forget.”

Kratos hums in acknowledgment, “I too know the pain of losing a sibling.”

Comfortable silence hangs between the two of you for a couple of minutes. The time is filled with unspoken understanding lined with a sense of melancholy.

“Drink.”

Kratos seems to present a bottle of wine out of nowhere but you don’t hesitate to accept it. Not even gods are above drinking their sorrows away. Another pitcher of mead and bottle of wine later and you’re drunk. Loose-lipped, fumbled-word, soft-legged drunk.

You’re currently giggling like a fool as you lean against the bedroom door simply staring at Kratos while he sits on his bed. When you started to create too much of a ruckus in the living room he took into his room since you refused to leave his side. You’d slap yourself in the forehead for that fact the following days later.

“Come.”

Your feet move before your mind can fully process the command. It’s as if your body is compelled to obey him without hesitation. The idea goes against everything you stand for. You ran from the one home you’d ever known and the one man that ever truly loved you, because of your refusal to submit to any man or god. Thankfully, the mead-fueled haze creeping into your brain keeps you from spiraling any further.

Kratos tilts his head to look up at you as you stand between his thick legs. A lazy smile spreads across your face and before you can think you lift your hand to cup his cheek. Although he captures your wrist, he doesn’t pry you away. Tentatively, your thumb rubs small circles into the rough flesh.

For a moment he indulges in your touch, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. You smell like vanilla with a citrus charge of tangerine and cinnamon. Something tantalizingly sweet, forbidden.

A rumbling noise emanates from Kratos’s chest when your thumb ghosts along the scar on his right eye. You wonder how he got the nasty slice. What god put it there many years ago. Unfortunately, Kratos is still a mystery to you. Bits and pieces of his life are shared sparingly through short stories during long journeys, but nothing else beyond that.

Nothing else beyond that. The four words ring in your ears. What are you doing? It’s not your right to be in his room, near his bed, and touching him of all things. You are companions, sure. Friends? Maybe. But partners? Nothing of the sort.

Any semblance of tipsiness you had quickly evaporates, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ You stop when Kratos brings his other hand to your hip, squeezing lightly.

“No need to explain. Not to me.”

Your hand drops when he moves to lay on his side on the bed. Kratos scoots back until his back is against the wall.

“Lay.”

When you hesitate, he pats the small space in front of him in an almost comedic fashion due to his large size, “Lay, agápi”

The word he calls you is spoken in a language you’ve never heard before, but he says it with such tenderness that it makes you slide into the bed. You start to think you’ve been sleeping this whole time when Kratos wraps a thick arm around your waist to pull you flush against his front. After three years of pining, you’re in the arms of the man you admired. The sudden realization is almost too much.

“Will you tell me a story from your homeland?”

Kratos’s silence at your abrupt question makes you huff out a laugh. Butterflies were swarming in your belly and if you didn’t do something about them you would never fall asleep.

Was it childish for you to ask for a bedtime story? Perhaps. But this might be the last time you get to have Kratos to yourself like this. You gently nudge him with your leg. It doesn’t even slightly jostle the mountain of a man, but it does keep his attention.

“Come on! An old man like yourself must know hundreds.”

After a beat, Kratos sounds almost bashful if that emotion was even possible for the god, “There’s this… poem.”

“What’s it about?

“A cunning general and a war over forbidden love.”

Ironic.

“Is it based on truth?”

“Yes, but I prefer the poem.”

You giggle at the displeasure lacing his tone.

“Can you recite a line for me?”

Kratos grunts at the way your tired eyes have you looking at him through your lashes. You’re the picture of innocence and natural beauty. It stirs something inside him that’s laid dormant for years. He would say Aphrodite’s beauty paled in comparison to yours, but you’re more than that. You’re a beauty beyond comparison wrapped in a warm light.

“I wish that strife would vanish away from among gods and mortals, and gall, which makes a man grow angry for all his great mind, that gall of anger that swarms like smoke inside of a man's heart and becomes a thing sweeter to him by far than the dripping of honey.”

You twist your head to the side to look back at Kratos. The darkness in the room keeps his features hidden yet you still can’t help but smile. A truly genuine, happy smile despite the small crookedness from your drunken state.

“Wow… I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one breath. Didn’t think you were one for lovely words.”

Kratos makes a low noise in his throat, contemplating for a moment if letting you in his room, in his bed, was really a good idea. When you suddenly snuggle back into his front, he doesn’t move a muscle. Your soft and warm against the hard expanse of his chest. The word “comforting” comes to the forefront of his mind but he tries his best to suppress the feeling.

Only to fail when you open your mouth again.

“The totality of emotions can either make or break a man. Let them in, Kratos.” Your voice oozes drowsiness encompassed by a softness you saved for his son Atreus. It’s an inflection filled with sweet sincerity and motherly care.

When a light snore reaches his ears, Kratos looks down at your face. You’re already sound asleep. His arms tighten a fraction before letting himself close his eyes. He told himself it was just for a night.

It’s never that simple.

For long seconds after you woke up the next morning you took in the sleeping man’s face. His features were free of stressed lines and his usual frown. Kratos looked even more handsome under the lull of sleep.

His arms were secured around you like a lifeline. It wasn’t a lover’s embrace, but the comfort of another person’s body aiding you both into a dreamless sleep. Although, it would be a lie if you said your heart didn’t flutter when you woke up to his face buried in your neck, the scruff of his beard making your skin prickle and heat.

You managed to slip out of the bed without waking the beast of a man. A feat when he held you so tight. When you made it to the door you chanced one more look back at Kratos, a heaviness settling inside you. For days you’ll blame your abrupt intimacy on you both drinking, but it would take oceans of alcohol to muddy the god’s mind.

Kratos never said anything about that night; never said that you helped him have the first truly peaceful sleep in his lifetime.

The sane part of your brain is cursing you for laying in Kratos’s bed like a loyal dog waiting for its master. Especially when he gave you no inkling that your presence was wanted. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you flinch when the door opens.

Kratos doesn’t falter at your uninvited presence as he shuts the bedroom door with a heavy sigh. You sit up on his bed as he takes off his armor with rough hands, letting the items loudly clank to the floor with little care. The blades go first, then his cuffs, and the axe.

Concern fills you at his sullen state. Emotions can only be bottled up for so long and Kratos was an expert at doing just that. You know he doesn’t want your help, but he needed it more than he’ll ever admit.

“You carry your burdens with you in mind and hand.” Your eyes trail to his Blades of Chaos on the floor. They act as physical reminders of the pain and suffering he caused not only strangers and gods, but the ones he loved the most.

“What do you know of carrying burdens?” His voice is gruff, but not fueled with malice.

“Don’t you remember that night?”

Guilt washes over Kratos’s features as remembrance dawns on him. The furrow of his brows and the twitch of his jaw is evidence enough. Sighing, you scoot to the edge of the bed, “I will not claim to understand your suffering Kratos, but I do know what it means to be lost. To follow your path while being confused as to why you must. To wonder why you get to live when they don’t.”

Kratos’s shoulders are visibly tense as you stare up at him. Standing up, an idea pops into your head that is so outlandish that you whisper it in hopes that he doesn’t completely hear it.

“For just one night give your burdens to me. Let me take care of you, Kratos. Someone needs to. Let that someone be me.”

A part of you doesn’t think but knows he will reject you. Especially when those eyes filled with shadows stare at yours unblinking and unwavering in their passivity. Who were you to ask for something so personal?

A love-sick fool, that’s who.

Every fiber of your being is pulled toward Kratos, but that doesn’t mean the feeling is mutual. Dejection washes over you at your boldness fueled by foolish hope. Right when you’re going to walk away, Kratos clears his throat.

“Okay.”

You blink at him like a small child would at the sight of a giant bear. Odin himself must have been playing a trick on you because you can’t believe that Kratos just accepted your proposition. For a solid minute, you stay standing with your chests inches apart.

Heat blooms in your cheeks as you become acutely aware of your closeness. Every deep breath he takes causes his taut stomach to brush against you. Your neck starts to feel the strain of having to crane back to make eye contact with him.

“Do I need to speak in even simpler words?” Kratos’s deep voice snaps you out of your gawking. Never had a man made you feel like a mere mortal; let alone make you like the idea of being overpowered.

“I-“ You clear your throat, finally letting the air dense with an unspoken tension fill your lungs, “N-no.”

Unconsciously, you rub your hands on your trousers and take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Sit on the bed.”

Kratos follows your command without question. Carefully, you crawl behind him on the bed and prop yourself on your knees. The skin under your hands tenses when you bring them up to rest on his shoulders.

“Relax. I mean you no harm. I swear.”

Your voice is just above a whisper and laced with sincerity. You begin to knead the endless knots that harden Kratos’s shoulders. The endless burdens he carries on his back would crush any mortal. When Kratos lets out a satisfied groan you have to bite your lip to stifle out a noise of your own.

Now’s not the time to start frothing at the mouth.

Instead of letting yourself turn into a pathetic puddle of suppressed desire, you opt to continue your efforts to comfort.

“We will get to Asgard. Atreus was raised by a strong man. I know he is doing more than fine.”

“A strong man perhaps, but not a noble one.”

Your thumbs travel down to press into the rigid flesh of his shoulder blades while you scoff.

“What does it mean to be noble? You are strong, courageous, watchful, full of wisdom, and give astute instruction. Those are very noble traits.”

Kratos shakes his head, “You do not know the extent of my sins.”

You sigh at the persistence of his inadequacy. How could he not see that his obvious guilt was the biggest indicator of his good heart? Your hands move to his bulky chest to lightly rub the muscles.

“We are more than the sum of our parts, Kratos. Bad deeds cannot be undone, but what we do after is what matters most. We must be better, work harder, and do whatever it takes to keep the realms from falling into chaos.”

At your words, Kratos takes hold of your wrists, “Where did you hear that?”

“I heard that from centuries of living. From reaching the lowest I could possibly go and coming out of it stronger than I was before.”

You move so you’re next to his side and only hesitate for a fraction of a second before you bring a hand to his cheek. Kratos doesn’t resist as you turn his head with the gentle guidance of your palm. Instinctively your thumb gently rubs back and forth against his rough flesh. The gesture feels different than the last time. It’s more intimate, rawer.

“You’re a good man, father, and friend, but if you continue to let the past dictate your future you will never see that for yourself.” You bring your other hand up to rest on the middle of his chest, “Open your heart. I promise it will only serve to make you stronger, not weaker.”

The way Kratos is looking into your eyes leaves you breathless. It’s almost like he’s seeing you for the first time. Not your outward appearance, but the depths of your soul.

Unlike usual, the silence that fills the room is stifling. So much so that your skin begins to heat, a humid tension that rivals Vanaheim hanging in the air. Maybe you said too much. Maybe you’re silly for spewing your opinions to a man who didn’t ask for them. Maybe this is what it feels like to love someone that’s out of your grasp.

Dejected by your imprudence you leave him with one last thought, “The totality of emotions can either make or break a man. What will it do to you?”

When you try to climb off the bed, one of Kratos’s hands shoots out to grab your bicep.

“Where are you going, woman.”

His voice is deep and reminds you of the forcefulness of booming thunder. One that shakes you more than Thor could ever make. Swallowing thickly, you advert your eyes to the ground, “I don’t want to disturb you any further.”

“Stay.”

Without another word, you let Kratos slowly pull you down on the bed. Half of your body lays on him as he rests his chin on your head. He feels safe and solid, protecting and proud. If only he can see what you see. If only he can feel what you feel.

You let yourself indulge in being in Kratos’s arms just like before and close your eyes. In seconds your body relaxes. Exhaustion mixed with the tidal wave of emotions you’ve gone through makes the perfect sedative.

Kratos watches your breathing slow as you go lax on his chest. He can’t help but admire you in the secrecy of your sleep.

The light shining through the window casts a glowing effect on your long locks, making it seem as though a halo is over your head. Your hair reminds him of the sunsets in Sparta, golden and awe-inspiring. More than that you remind him of that comforting feeling that comes with being where one belongs.

Home.

When Kratos grunts at the absurdity of his thoughts, the noise causes your leg around his hip to tighten. He carefully traces your spine with the tips of his thick fingers. You’re so small and fragile in his hold, like a mouse cuddling in a bear’s den during a frigid winter despite the looming danger.

You’re unlike any goddess he’s met before; calm, kind of heart, strong, and free from the chains of greed that comes with a being with that kind of power. You told Kratos to open his heart and be better for the future. Only one other woman told him those exact words.

“The culmination of love is grief. And yet we love despite the inevitable; we open our hearts to it. To grieve deeply is to have loved fully. Open your heart to the world as you have opened it to me and you will find every reason to keep living in it.”

An epiphany hits Kratos so hard that it causes him to hold you tighter to his chest.

You’re something to live for.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

greek translation: agápi = love

#kratos x reader #god of war x reader #god of war ragnorak #god of war #kratos #delirious masterlist

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sheriffaxolotl · 3 months

Text

Fallen (Alastor x Fallen Angel reader Drabble)

âmes damnées (ˈɑːm dɑːˈnei) a person who is willingly or blindly the tool of another person.

In the forsaken corners of Hell, where shadows danced with the echoes of lost souls, a fallen female angel wandered, her once-ethereal beauty now marred by the harshness of her surroundings. Her porcelain skin, once kissed by divine light, bore the scars of her descent, a testament to the trials she had endured. Tattered remnants of her once-glorious wings hung limply at her sides, their feathers dulled and tarnished by the weight of her sins. A filthy makeshift sheet of a cloak was thrown over her as the edges dragged along behind her.

Despite the darkness that surrounded her, there remained a haunting elegance to her presence, a lingering trace of the celestial grace she had once possessed. Her eyes, though clouded with sorrow, still held a spark of inner strength, a testament to the resilience of her spirit amidst the turmoil of Hell. Her name, whispered only in mournful sighs, had long been forgotten in the abyss.

The perfect prey. Thrown away, lost, and forgotten.

It was amidst this desolate realm that she encountered Alastor, the enigmatic radio demon whose presence exuded a captivating aura of mischief and menace. His bright red irises and thin black pupils follow the slouched figure as they wander with no destination.

"Well, well, well," Alastor crooned, his grin wide and wicked as he regarded the fallen angel before him. "What do we have here? A celestial beauty fallen from grace?" Alastor continued as his hand came to lay upon his chest, a mock gentlemanly bow following his words.

The fallen angel's gaze met Alastor's, her eyes a reflection of the sorrow and regret that weighed heavy upon her soul. "I seek solace," she confessed, her voice a fragile whisper in the darkness. A soul worn down that was struggling with what appeared to be soul-crushing failure. The corners of Alastor’s grin perked up even more at the sound of her pitiful voice.

With Alastor's smile widening, the fallen angel could see the gleaming rows of razor-sharp teeth. "Solace, you say? Well, my dear fallen friend, in Hell, solace comes with a price." Alastor said as he taps his cane next to him with an emphasis on each word he spoke. He watches the way her eyes flicker over his appearance, a calculating stare even with the way he could see fatigue clouding her judgment. Clouding it well enough for her to speak her next words.

“What kind of price?”

And so, amidst the swirling shadows and the wails of the damned, a pact was forged between the fallen angel and the radio demon, their fates intertwined in a dance of darkness and redemption within the infernal depths of Hell. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪

My AO3 account!

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #radio demon #fanfic #drabble

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sinisteryanderescribe · 14 days

Note

Hello I'm curious on how Norton comfort Nurse Reader?

Norton comforting Nurse Reader pls?

Note: Hello dear sorry it took long I was very sick and had a lot of personal issues going on.

Depths Of Comfort

…………………………………………………………………………….

The echoes of the match still reverberated through the manor, a haunting reminder of the fear and pain that had unfolded in the twisted corridors. You sat in your room, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the walls, your breaths ragged and hands trembling from the harrowing experience you had just endured.

Norton, stood at the threshold of your room, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and understanding. Without a word, he crossed the room to stand beside you, his presence a grounding force in the midst of turmoil.

In the dimly lit room, the male reached out a calloused hand to gently rest on your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone accustomed to the rough terrain of the manor. In that simple gesture, you felt a rush of emotions - relief, vulnerability, and a flicker of hope that you weren't alone in your pain.

With a silent nod, he settled beside you, his presence a comforting weight at your side. There was no need for words between you, for in the shared silence lay a deep understanding that transcended the horrors you had faced in the match. It was a connection forged in the depths of the manor, where words often failed to convey the magnitude of the trials you endured.

As you struggled to steady your racing heart and quell the rising tide of emotions, Norton's steady presence was a lifeline in the darkness. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent pact of solidarity and support, a promise that you didn't have to face the aftermath alone.

You found solace in Norton's quiet strength, a beacon of light in the shadows of the manor. His unwavering presence spoke volumes, offering a sense of comfort and understanding that cut through the chaos and fear that lingered in the air.

Norton remained by your side, a steadfast companion in the aftermath of the match. His role as a miner shone through in the way he navigated the complexities of your emotions, much like he would navigate through the treacherous passages of the manor, with caution and determination.

As you sat there, enveloped in the quiet comfort of Norton's presence, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support in the aftermath of the match. Though the black haired man hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to navigate the unfamiliar territory of offering comfort and solace to someone in need.

Despite his lack of experience with overt displays of affection, Norton's actions spoke volumes. Sensing your need for reassurance, he leaned in slightly, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions that swirled around you. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Norton's usual guarded expression softened, revealing a glimpse of the caring soul that lay beneath the surface.

Taking a deep breath, Norton tentatively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, a gesture both tentative and sincere. The warmth of his touch seeped through you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your struggles. It was a small yet profound act of comfort, one that transcended the barriers Norton had built around himself.

Feeling the weight of his arm around you, you couldn't help but lean into his touch, seeking solace in the simple act of human connection. Norton's presence, though unfamiliar in its tenderness, offered a sense of security and understanding that you desperately needed in that moment of vulnerability.

As the night deepened, Norton's instinctive need to provide comfort and solace to you grew stronger, overcoming his usual reservations about physical touch. With a subtle yet determined resolve, he gently lifted you from your seat, cradling you in his arms with a surprising ease that belied his strength as a miner.

Moving you to his lap, he settled you against his firm chest, his arms encircling your waist in a protective embrace. The contrast between his rugged exterior and the tenderness of his actions created a sense of safety and warmth that enveloped you in a cocoon of comfort.

Feeling his breath against your neck as he nuzzled his nose and face into your hair, a wave of shyness and flustered warmth washed over you. The unexpected intimacy of his touch, though not overtly sexual, stirred a gentle flutter in your chest, a mix of vulnerability and gratitude for his unspoken support.

In response to his touch, you placed a hand on his thigh, a soft and subtle gesture of reciprocity. The contact was a silent acknowledgment of the connection that had formed between you, a wordless reassurance that his touch was welcomed and reciprocated in kind.

With your hand resting on his thigh, you felt the tension in Norton's frame ease slightly, a subtle sign of his own need for comfort and closeness. In that quiet moment of shared intimacy, surrounded by the hushed stillness of the room, you found solace in the unspoken bond that had formed between you.

As the ex-miner held you close, his touch a balm to your weary soul, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, finding a sense of peace and security in the strength of his arms. The gentle rhythm of his breathing against your neck, the warmth of his body enveloping you, created a sanctuary of comfort in the midst of the chaos that had unfolded in the manor.

“Norton…” you would whisper softly, loving how his lean yet strong arms wrapped around your small form in a sort of protective yet intimate manner.

The said male would not respond but a soft raspy grunt followed by a hum. A way of informing you to stay quiet and relax on him…you knew him too well to be able to understand his language of communication.

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another-lost-mc · 5 months

Text

candy prompts: michael + sweet (with a dash of spice)

michael struggles with doubt when you visit the celestial realm.

pairing: michael x gn!reader

content: sfw-ish. some kissing but nothing explicit. insecurity and unhealthy coping mechanisms (michael). hurt/comfort. takes place sometime after s4.

word count: 1.2k+ (oops)

Michael spends most of his free time in his private garden. He tells the other angels he meditates there in the solace of sun and shade under his favourite willow tree, but it's only an excuse disguise the ugly truth: he goes there to run away.

He runs away when his endless responsibilities make his head spin and his jaw clench in frustration. Sometimes he runs away with a third helping of dessert so he can enjoy some semblance of sugary comfort when he feels empty inside. The sweet distraction he craves dissolves to ash on his tongue, tainted by whatever dark thoughts haunt him.

Today, he runs away to his garden and hides from you.

When you came to visit the Celestial Realm, Michael thought he was prepared. In a strange sort of way, it felt like he knew you already despite your limited conversations before. Luke adored you like a sibling and talked about you often. Simeon was obviously very fond of you too, but some of his messages were laced with lustful implications that Michael tried to ignore.

It was suspicious when Michael first realized how close you were with his fallen brothers. You somehow charmed the likes of Lucifer into creating a pact with you when so many others had failed. Not only that, but The Morningstar cared about you enough that he was willing to sacrifice his own life to save yours. It bothered Michael immensely at the time, but the jealousy he used to feel gradually lost its sharp edge and reluctant admiration took its place.

Michael knew he should meet you properly to understand what made you so captivating, so special. He couldn’t underestimate you the way all the others did—he wouldn’t be made a fool of. He steadied his resolve and braced his heart to meet you. You were the only human he respected and feared in equal measure.

He was right to fear you, of course. The moment he laid eyes on you, hesitantly stepping out from that portal and smiling in the realm’s eternal light, he was utterly charmed by you. From that first introduction with your hand grasped gently in his own, you murmured his name like a prayer and he felt the first stirrings of temptation. You were so pretty and so human and he finally understood why so many others fell for you.

He was determined not to succumb to you that easily. At first, he successfully avoided spending too much time alone with you. He made excuses while one of the other willing angels kept you company. If you knew he was avoiding you, you didn't seem to mind.

Every angel within the realm has their true calling and spends their days working or learning or teaching or training. You were eager to learn alongside them and most of them were glad to have your company in return. Even the most stubborn angels fell victim to your easy smiles and contagious laughter. Many were already lamenting the day when you would leave them.

It startled Michael when your interest eventually shifted back to him. He couldn’t make excuses to avoid you forever and you trailed after him as he carried out his duties in the Celestial Halls. He spent hours in his office completing the most mundane tasks but it wasn't enough to bore you or drive you away. You brought books with you to read and told him about Devildom gossip as you scrolled through your D.D.D. and you offered to fetch more tea from the kitchen when your cups ran dry.

He told himself that it was easier to tolerate you than to ignore you. You became a familiar presence at his side and it bothered him how much he liked it. In fleeting moments he found himself wanting even more.

Now he sits in his garden in the shade of his favorite willow tree, head tipped back against the rough bark and his legs are stretched out in front of him. Lately he spends his time consumed by thoughts of you. Tonight he tries not to think about the way you brushed your thigh against his under the table at dinner, or the way your face brightened when you told him you helped bake tonight’s dessert—one of his favourites, of course.

He ate his dessert slowly, slicing into the delicate cake and complimenting your efforts between bites. He enjoyed the fluffy whipped cream and sweet berry filling, but his eyes lingered on your lips when you hummed happily as you finished your own serving. He wondered what you would taste like if he kissed that flirty smile and cleaned that little smear of cream from the corner of your mouth with his tongue.

A quiet rustling nearby catches his attention. Michael’s not surprised to hear the soft shuffle of sandals against the grass as you approach him. He keeps his eyes stubbornly closed even when he feels you bump his leg as you kneel at his feet. He finally opens his eyes and watches with curious reservation as you crawl forward on your hands and knees until you’re practically sitting in his lap. Your hands tremble against his chest and after a moment, he carefully settles his on your waist to steady you. You melt into the touch and lean against him, warmed by his body against your own.

He gives you his silent acceptance of whatever this is and hopes he won't live to regret it. If he were a better angel, he would send you away so both of you can pretend this never happened. But he’s not that angel, not anymore, and he’s always been a little selfish.

Michael wonders what you see when you look at him because your gaze is so affectionate with the slightest hint of desire. It flickers in your irises like the first hesitant flames before the fire burns into a roaring inferno. He can’t remember the last time he felt so wanted; he feels overheated despite the cool breeze that jostles the tree branches above.

Still, he hesitates. What does an old angel like him have to offer someone like you? He bears the weight of so many burdens on his shoulders. His heart is heavy from impossible choices and regrets that keep him awake at night. Years of indulgence have left his belly bigger and softer than it used to be. He doesn’t understand why someone like you would ever want him.

He groans when your lips press against his. Your first hesitant kiss shatters his stubborn resolve and he gently rolls both of you over, laying you on the grass underneath him. Your chest heaves with panted breaths but you look completely satisfied. His brave little lamb. He props himself up on his forearms so he doesn’t hurt you with his weight but you pout like you want to feel more of him. He obliges and lifts your thigh up so it rests against the curve of his hip. He swallows your gasp when he lowers himself and grinds down against you, experimentally at first and harder when you dig your fingers into his back and urge him to give you more. You beckon him with sinful prayers and he feels compelled to obey.

He shudders with each soft noise that tumbles from your lips and each flick of your tongue against his own. His hands find their way beneath the intricately-woven clothes he had made for you while he seeks out all your sensitive places. He drags his mouth over the curve of your jaw while his deep voice murmurs praise into your skin, leaving a trail of biting kisses in his wake.

He satiates his ravenous hunger while he takes you apart with all the skill and patience he can muster. After all, there’s no need to rush—no one will come looking for you in his garden.

read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist

#obey me #obey me michael #obey me michael x reader #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader #trick or treat 2023

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princessanonymous · 3 months

Text

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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First Chapter

22. 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓽

Dorian's velvety croon filled the room as the girl's eyes fluttered open, a testament to the success of his work. With grace, Dorian ran his fingers through her hair, an almost paternal gesture with an undercurrent of possessiveness. She appeared disoriented yet curiously aware of everything surrounding her.

In a ritualistic display, Dorian's sharp fangs pierced his own forearm, crimson droplets welling up and rolling down his arm. The scent, intoxicating and thick, traveled through the room, luring the fledgling. The girl, smart child that she was, picked up on the scent in no time. A swift realization flashed across her eyes, and she keenly picked up on the aroma.

The offered forearm hovered near her mouth, and Dorian's honeyed voice encouraged her, "Drink." The fledgling, displaying an instinctive hunger, moved to partake almost savagely, but Dorian intervened with a gentle touch. He held her jaw delicately, his fingers grazing her cold skin. "Use your fangs, doll. Show me your little fangs."

The girl, her newly formed canines revealed, elicited a proud smile from Dorian. With approval granted, she sank her fangs into his flesh. She drank with a fervor, as if trying to quench a centuries-long thirst in mere moments. The room resonated with the sound of her eager feeding.

Eventually, Dorian, the indulgent sire, halted her actions. "That is enough," he whispered, and she whimpered, a primitive plea for more escaping her lips. With a reassuring shake of his head, he spoke softly, "I know, I know, you're thirsty. You shall have more later."

As much as she wanted. He was her sire, her creator, and her provider. He would ensure she lacked nothing. He wouldn’t leave her and, in return, she would stay by his side. He was her caretaker. ☾ Gradually (Y/n)'s reason took back control over her instincts. Her memories were hazy, as if a fog were enveloping them, but the panic and fear she had felt before still remained. She recognized the two men in the room. Recognizing the two men present, the sentiments of transformation and of an existence forced upon her hung heavy in the air.

"Killian.. Stay.." Desperation tinged her whimper as she reached out to Killian. She sought solace in the man she knew, yearning for his presence as a shield against the monster who had inflicted this vampiric fate upon her. This man had tried to protect her against the one who turned her. She felt safer with him.

She observed the man's hesitation, her eyes filled with a profound sense of hope and despair intertwined. His gaze held a tempest of emotions, reflecting the inner conflict he, too, experienced.

Dorian, now the creator of her newfound existence, leaned in, a calming presence amidst the chaos soothing her whimpers with a gentle, almost hypnotic murmur. Safe. "Oh, he won't leave, darling." His words cut through the uncertainty with a promise. "He may have contemplated leaving, but that's in the past now. He shall stay, and he shall stay for you." ☾ She remained oblivious to the sly, dark smile Dorian gave to the other vampire — a subtle pact woven between them, one party more willing than the other.

Reluctantly, Killian approached the girl, a silent turmoil raging within him. Dorian released his hold on her, allowing her to find solace in the arms of his companion. As Killian tenderly stroked her hair, a tide of resentment surged within him. The venom in his voice was palpable as he muttered, words laden with scorn, "You are truly deplorable."

The words danced in the air for an instant, carrying with them years of resentment. The surroundings whispered tales of lives lived, choices made, and the eternal struggle between what once had been and what remained now.

Dorian smiled faintly. His eyes were wet and he leaned on his shoulder. “I know,” he whispered, his words feeling heavy in the room. “Anything for my family. My coven.”

The blond’s arms locked around Killian and he could feel the other’s tremors. "I love you so much,” he muttered, almost inaudibly, "I love the both of you so much." He repeated the statement like an endless mantra.

Killian remained quiet, with the youngling resting on his chest and the other vampire leaning on his shoulders.

A part of him realized they could all leave. Windows were open; doors were unlocked. Walking out was easy. Just as it had always been.

"We have a daughter, Killian," he continued on. Killian suddenly felt a wetness on his shoulder. "You wouldn't leave her behind, would you? Please… She needs me, and — and I need the both of you."

He drew in a shuddering breath, the blond’s voice, his words, his touch… All of that was so suffocating. He felt caged. Not physically, no; his prison was of another kind. He would have liked to say Fate had intricately woven and meticulously pulled the threads of their lives until they were inevitably entwined. That description would have sounded poetic, or perhaps even romantic in a twisted way. Yet, even that was false, wasn’t it? Tthe truth was often less fanciful.

They were trapped.

Trapped in a tragedy of their own making.

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