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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Winter's King 25

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: 😁.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The queen snores in her bed. At last, peaceful. You leave her as she is, piled in bedclothes amid the glow of the low-burning fire. You emerge into the corridor, silent, and the door drags closed with a scrape at your cautious pull. The shadow by the pillar shifts.

You glance over at the guard. Gilles has been relieved of his watch and another man stands in his place. You think you recognise him. He must’ve been one of those which helped the queen seize your cart. The road feels so very long ago and yet there is still much ahead of you.

“Hold,” the guard warns and gives a whistle, the noise echoing along the high ceilings.

There’s scuffling further down and you turn to face another silhouette, this one slender and lithe like a wraith. Ezme steps into the light of a lamp and stare at you placidly. She beckons with a hand.

“Come, maid, I will show you your quarters,” she says.

You bow your head and go to her. It is unusual you wouldn’t be left to find your way to the servants wing yourself, likely near the kitchens, and yet you are much too weary to question any of it. She turns and you walk at her side. The promise of sleep, even if only a little, has you aching to recline.

The corridors are quiet but for the soft pad of your footsteps. Fewer lamps light the way than in the daytime and the path grows black. You follow the stirring of the women next to you as she carries on. She touches your arm to stop you, nudging you to the right. You wait and listen as she lifts a latch, the metallic noise cutting through the din, and hinges creak loudly.

She guides you into the dark chamber by your wrist. It is lit only by moonlight and a brazier burning at the foot of a broad bed. The door clanks shut and you shiver. Ezme moves around you, her skirts brushing your own, and she goes to the low mattress. You squint, these are not servants’ rooms. The bed frame, the brazier, the space swathed in darkness; more often, bodies crowded over bags of hay or on the scant tatters of blankets.

“You will sleep here,” she says softly, “with me. You will be safe.”

“Safe? From what?” You croak and rub your cheeks as they burn with fatigue.

“Need you ask,” she replies knowingly, “it is much too late for those questions. Come, lay, the morning will be upon us swiftly.”

You don’t argue. She is right. You go to bed and remove your apron and cap. You fold them and put them to the foot of the mattress. She moves a dark square over the blankets towards you. You pause and reach to touch the obscured shape as the dim light offers only vague outline. It’s soft, furry. You feel around and find the familiar rough patch sewn into the lining. It’s the king’s cloak.

“You will want to keep that close,” she says, “the soldier made certain to leave it for you.”

“Bryce?” You wonder aloud, “is he your friend?”

“He is a familiar face,” she shrugs and pulls her dress over her head. “The Lord of the Castle likes him well enough.”

You shift the cloak over your apron and strip off your outer layer, standing only in your shift. You mirror the maid across from you and slip beneath the thick blankets. A sigh escapes you as your muscles finally release the tension of the day. She is still on her back as you lay upon your side, staring at the low flicker of the brazier against the wall.

Curiosity nips at your exhaustion. How does a servant come upon a room like this? Is it simply at your expense? For whatever reason Bryce has bid her to keep you close. Certainly, the old soldier is overly cautious.

Your eyes close before you can think very much on the unexpected resting spot. The day has been turbulent and full of many surprises. You only dread those that await you on the morrow.

⚔️

Ezme wakes you from a heavy slumber. You both dress in the morning hue, rinsing from a basin before you face another day. You leave the cloak on the assurance it will be waiting for you. A thought glimmers of what the king might think should it go missing. Would he blame you?

You emerge and part from your nocturnal companion. You procede to the queen’s chambers to find them open and the corridor a titter. A pair of servants, themselves dozy, carry one of her chests through as her shrill cry careens through. You approach as the steadfast guard with the fiery hair watches you with narrow eyes.

You peer within and find the Queen Jazlene digging through the contents, tossing fabrics without a care, in a desperate search. You are stunned to find her awake with the sunrise but not disheartened. It might be a good omen.

"Where is it?" She throws her hands up and scowls as her eyes skim around, "you," she points in your direction, "where is my blue dress? The one with the silver lace? It must be here!"

"Your highness, perhaps another chest," you step inside.

"You did remember to pack it, didn't you?" She accuses as she stands, "I did bid it."

"Yes, your highness," you affirm, though it was Merinda who would've taken the order. "Shall I go look in the luggage?"

"Oh, yes, you shall," she struts toward you, "I will not be dressed as some northern wench for the banquet."

Banquet? You withhold your curiosity and bow your head. You have a task and it is always better to tend to it without question.

You spin and hurry from the room. You nearly collide with another servant, a tray in their hands. Another chore you needn't attend. You press on and find your way through the kitchens to the rear of the castle.

The luggage remains mostly in the stables which entails a venture into the wintry without. You mourn the cloak upon the foot of the bed but it would be worse to flaunt the king's patch so heedlessly. You tuck your hands into your sleeves and put your chin down before you push through, the door resisting your strength as the wind blows against it.

You stagger through and the heavy wood slams just as quickly as you clear its breadth. The gales are strong but the snow has relented. You see dark bodies speckled amid the white as powder dusts up in heaps. The servants work to clear away the thick piles and make pathways around the castle's yard.

You cross to the stables and delve into the stink of horses and hay. The beast nicker and neigh as you pass as others doze without notice. You find the luggage, chests still upon carts as others litter the unswept floor. If you find the dress, it might just reek of horse.

You recognise the crest of Debray upon a chest and the painted sides of a few others. You unstrap several lids and raise them, the cold nipping but sweat rising nonetheless. The longer you sift through the contents, the number your hands and fingers become, the clumsier you are.

A patch of blue, so pale and shiny it's almost white, gleams from beneath the heaps of cloth. You yank upon it, bringing out several other gowns with the effort, and claim victory. You do not neglect to suss out a pair of slippers and a hair net you think might go with it. You set it aside and pack away the mess you've made, breathless from the expense.

You hug your lot and curl around the next row of horses, searching out Daisy as she leans her head against Chestnut's dark neck. Their eyes widen at your approach and they huff almost in time. You pat their noses before you apologise that you must leave them.

Once more, the violent gusts greet you in the open, sending a spiral of snow around you and dusting you with the chill. Your teeth chatter as the wind pushes you from behind and fill your skirts. You can hardly aim your steps as you end up against the castle wall, sidling along until you're at the door.

Within, the cold follows and lingers in your bones. You flit through the kitchens, pots steam as the large ovens blaze and bodies cluster and clash. You barely avoid a collision as you pass into the corridor. As you step around one figure, another appears.

“Aye, there the mouse is,” Bryce greets as he folds a leaf around his finger, readying it to pop in his mouth, “I see she’s got you at work already.”

“Sir,” you stop before the soldier, “how was your night?”

“Eh, dark,” he shrugs, “and you? The other maid saw to ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. If ye can, stay close to that one at the feast,” he girds, “she’s wise. She knows well how to bide the shadows.”

You nod and hug the fabric, another shiver flowing through you. He tilts his head as he continues to play with the leaf between his fingers.

“Don’t tell me you were outside without a cloak,” he accuses, “where’s yours, then?”

“Sir, it was only for a moment--”

“This cold does not soften for summer maids,” he tuts and shakes his head, “you will make yerself sick and who should have to deal with it, hm? Who should have to hear the king rant of it?”

“Apologies, I was only in a rush,” you pout.

“Don’t be sorry,” he steps closer and touches the dress in your arms, “in a rush for flimsy gown. These halls are too cold for satin.”

“The queen bids it--”

“Oh, I would expect,” he chortles.

You purse your lips, slanting them one way then the next, as you recall your task. You watch him pinch the silk before he rescinds his reach. He puts the leaf in his mouth and chews.

“You said feast and the queen said banquet? Is that this evening?” You wonder.

“Certainly, is,” he sucks on the sweet leaves, “Lord Vesemir would celebrate our departure most fervently but as any good winter lord, he would not send his guests out in the cold without full bellies.”

“Oh,” you utter thoughtfully.

“And I suppose, it will appease the queen,” he adds, “for a time before she is once more miserable in the wildlands.”

“And we are to leave on the morrow?”

“Aye, by the nightfall,” he crosses his arms. “They must clear the pass and ready the horses and carts. It will be a labour but best we move on.”

“I believe so too, sir,” you teethe your lip.

“Aye, you are prudent, as ever,” he lowers his gaze to the floor, “mouse.”

You shift on your soles and exhale solemnly, “I must...”

“Yes, very well, go on to your queen,” he steps aside, “I must find our king. I suspect he might be hounding the lord of this castle, if not sparring with him.”

There is a reluctance between you as you carry on your way; Bryce to one wing and you to the other, as if to mark the divide of king and queen. You come up the stairs and hurry along, the queen’s doors still ajar. Her voice carries still and servant scuttles out as a plate is hurled after them, crashing onto the floor as it narrowly avoids their foot.

You slow and cautiously peek into the room. The queen shakes her head and pinches a morsel of brown meat on her plate, eyeing it with scrutiny. For a moment, her face twists, then she forces herself to shove it in her mouth. She chews as a battle rages across her features.

Her gaze is drawn by your movement and she gulps down her mouthful. She stands, nearly overturning the stool upon which the tray rests. She brings her hands up as she storms over to snatch your armful. You back away as she lets the dress unfurl and you bend to gather up the slippers and hairnet as they fall.

“Ah, wonderful, a proper attire for my first proper appearance as queen,” she beams and dances around with the dress, “oh, my hair, my hair. You must braid it for me.”

She lays the gown on the bed and gives it a longing touch before she retreats. She clammers to the plain wooden table upon which she’s had a looking glass propped up. She leans forward as you stand behind her. Her hair remains in the braids she’s worn for some time, looking wilted and ratty from neglect.

“Yes, your highness.”

“I suppose the king feels horrid for his display yesterday,” she preens at herself. “He must realise he cannot keep a lady like me cooped up.”

You think to mention that it is more send-off than anything. That is on Lord Vesemir’s whim, rather than King Geralt’s. At least that’s how you have it. Yet, you know well not to argue. Let Jazlene believe as she well and the world is always a bit more pleasant.

You set to undoing her hair, gently as you notice how dry it is, whether from the cold or the air. She snaps her fingers and demands another servant bring her the tray off food. She picks at it as you unwind her hair and let it free.

She looks at herself one way then the other. She smiles and wipes her mouth with her sleeve.

“I am still pretty, aren’t I?” She asks, “I will be after the child comes, won’t I?”

You swallow and nod, “yes, your highness.”

“Gilles, Gilles,” she chimes and waves a hand, “come, come,” she turns in her seat and you pull away from her, not wanting to tug on her locks. “Tell me, how pretty am I?”

The man steps into the doorway and clears his throat. He looks as sheepish as you’ve ever seen. You glance back at Jazlene as she poses and bats her lashes.

“You are beautiful, my queen, as the summer sunsets,” he avows.

There’s a click in your head, a wriggle in your chest, and a churning in your stomach. No. No, it can’t be. She wouldn’t betray her marriage.

Yet you thought the very same of her husband. That’s different. The king rules all, even the queen. And that she so garishly flaunts her fleeting affections. But how can you judge, when your own folly looms over you like a cloud?

You think of the king’s story; Cerrill and Wynifred and their forbidden romance. It tints in a different effect now, it aligns more evenly, for you do not see this ending well for either queen or guard should they stray. Just as you don’t see yourself faring any better.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

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thegnomelord · 5 months

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Wraith!Ghost theory

Wraiths can purr. It's not like a full on cat purr, it's more of a low growl they can make when fully monstered out

Oooh that's an interesting idea and I'm deffo stealing that lol

Also i think that newborn wraiths don't really have full control over it, like you know when puppies try to howl but can't get it quite right? Same with wraiths.

Like what Simon first develops isn't so much a growl as it is just a throaty sound at the base of his chest like he's got a hairball stuck down there or something. And at first it only further makes him think that Simon Riley is dead and the wraith known as Ghost has replaced him. And it makes him feel disgusted with what he is.

But over the months and years it takes him to somewhat get used to it, the growl shifts. Eventually it becomes more of like a caiman crock bellow, those deep throated sounds vibrating every rib in his chest. It always comes out when his emotions run high, as rare as that happens, either in utter anger or pure bliss, the sound rolls past his lips into a sound that's a lot scarier on the battlefield than it is when he's looking back at you with such a content gaze, laying on the bed like a lazy cat and too comfortable to get up.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #monster cod au #cod monster au #monster 141 au

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lingering-42-long · 1 year

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141 + extra when they get home from war

Y’all be too much lol. This is my third head cannon and the Mother’s Day one is still on the top of the likes list and I don’t know why like that one was my trash one and everything else I like put time and effort into. It’s like offering people a gourmet meal or Ramen noodles with chicken nuggets, lol I’m glad everybody does enjoy my Content though, and I hope that you all enjoy this one as well!

COD x Female Character

Warnings: PG-13, mentioning of sex, fluff, suggestion of angst

Captain John Prince

• when he gets home, he’s usually pretty tired.

• Don’t be alarmed if he just wants to sleep when he gets home.

• Usually you pick him up from the airport and he will load in his bags with a grunt and say that he could really use some good sleep.

• He smells like gun powder and dirt, even though he just took a shower.

• When he gets home, he will give you a kiss, then head off to bed no matter what time of day it is.

• He’s just that tired.

• When he wakes up the first thing he does is go back over to you and give you a proper kiss and a proper greeting.

• Make sure that you have some food for him. He’s going to be hungry, and he really needs some thing that’s more sustainable than MREs.

• He wants to hear about your life and what you’ve been up to while he’s been at work.

• Listening to you talk is one of his favorite past times and it helps him relax. Sitting in front of the couch while watching some TV show while you’re rambling on about the past months and about what you’ve been up to really brings a smile to his face.

• He likes to catch up on his reading.

• This man enjoys reading with a cigar in his mouth and a glass of bourbon.

• If you’ve picked out a new book for him to read, he will be gladly appreciate of of it.

• But most importantly, he would want you to be in his lap while he’s reading, but if you don’t like the smell of cigar smoke near your face, he will make sure not to smoke near you.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

• Simon comes home as Ghost.

• The persona of a vengeful wraith and the shell of a once human is what your are graced with.

• He is very quiet, very solemn, and very cold.

• This is because he’s just dealing with his PTSD.

• He needs time to heal from recent encounters. This can take as little as one week to as long as three months.

• After badgering him enough times, to go see a therapist, he obliges.

• Though he’s pretty cranky about it.

• Give him space. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but right now, he doesn’t trust himself, especially with the nightmares raging through his mind.

• His nightmares are so vivid that it can be hard to distinguish Friend or foe.

• This is due to the fact that he needs to be working or else those vile thoughts come hunting him.

• He will never tell you about what goes on while he’s away.

• Once Ghost disappears, Simon takes his place.

• The poor broken man is just tired, and he just wants to lay next to you and hear about your day or months.

• Once you become stable enough, he begins to be more active around the house instead of just brooding in the bedroom.

• He hast to keep himself busy at all times.

• No rest for the wicked.

• Hast to sleep with a lamp on.

• Even though he seems harsh around the outside, he loves you deeply, and that’s why he separates himself from you for a certain time.

Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

• Opposite of Ghost, Johnny is so excited to see you!

• As soon as he gets off the airplane, he runs over to you!

• This man is all over you before you even see him!

• He starts asking you 1 million questions about how your months have been and what’s been going on with his family and any news on the recent football (soccer) matches.

• You actually have to calm him down because he’s all over the place.

• When you get into the car, he is kissing you all over your face.

• This man has enough energy to run to the moon and back, and it shows.

• He’ll try to take you right there if only he wasn’t in a car confined by a seatbelt

• Johnny is quick to help around the house and do whatever task you need to do.

• He says he’s making up for lost time.

• If you’ve decorated the house in a new way, he will always compliment what you’ve done to it.

• Johnny wakes up early in the morning and practically begged you to join him on a hike.

• It could be down pouring for all he cares about but he really wants to be with you while he’s working out.

• He will bring you back a souvenir probably something stupid like a rock or a jar of sand.

• If he gets any scars, he shows you and starts pointing them out and tells you the story about each and everyone of them.

• He won’t go into great detail about how gruesome the battling was.

• He wants you to be in his life every step of the way, even if you’re at home.

Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

• Kyle is grinning from ear to ear when he sees you!

• He’s not as hyper as Johnny, nor is he a stoic as his captain.

• He has the perfect mix between excited and tired

• When you to get home, he says that you two should just order pizza and he’s dying to play a video game with you even if he’s a little tired.

• Kyle doesn’t go into a lot of detail about his work. He’ll just make an occasional gesture about what he saw what he did.

• Like soap, he’ll bring you back a souvenir.

• He actually takes time with his souvenir shopping though, and we’ll go to local markets installs to actually pick you out some thing that you might like.

• Happy to be with you and glad to be away from the fighting.

Commander Alejandro Vargas

• When he comes home, his first instinct is to drop his bags by the door, and bring you into a warm and passionate kiss and hug.

• As much as he loves his job and all of his soldiers and team, some thing about being at home with you makes him feel truly loved.

• He may be tired, but he still going to serenade you like it’s his last day on earth.

• If you haven’t started making dinner yet, he will help and participate with whatever you’re doing. He may be tired, but he’s never tired for you.

• He loves watching you move around the house.

• He’s not going to deny it, but you wearing his clothes and cooking dinner with him really turns him on.

• After dinner, he may propose a night in bed to you.

• This man serenades you in sex especially after he’s been away for a long time

• Physical touch is his love language, and he loves being with you.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

• Like his commander, when he comes home, all he wants to do is drop his bags and immediately embrace you and a warm hug while rubbing your head and whispering how much he’s missed you.

• He also wants to help you cook dinner, or do some thing, but if you go, tell him to take a shower and to relax, he won’t deny that he needs it.

• Rudy loves reading a book with you so after dinner he will want to skip the washing dishes and ask if you would like to read with him before going to bed. No matter what time it is in the day. If he’s tired enough, he will once to at least read a little bit before falling asleep.

• Once he’s asleep, the bags underneath his eyes seem to disappear. He knows you’re close and he knows that you’re safe and that’s all that he could ever ask for to make him happy.

König

• As soon as he gets off the airplane and sees you amongst the crowd of people, his anxiety stops, and he immediately makes his way to you.

• He can’t sleep on an airplane, but as soon as he’s in the car, he’s about ready to doze off. You have to remind him not to though, because waking him up or trying to drag him out of the car is near impossible.

• He is really trying hard not to pass out in the car.

• Once he gets home, he stumbles into the kitchen looking for a nice tall glass of water to drink, and a sandwich or two to eat.

• Make sure that you keep the sandwiches stocked.

• This man will then make his way to the bedroom, take a cold shower, get into some warm PJs, and then slip into bed.

• Once he’s asleep, he will stay in his hybernation for roughly 3 days.

• He will only wake up to use the restroom, get a drink of water, or to eat some thing.

• When his mind is on the battlefield, he rarely puts himself into a sleep state, but when he’s at home, it’s like all of the hours that he missed, sleeping or suddenly compiled in a single week.

• Just let him rest, and sooner or later, he’ll wake up from his hibernation, and will seek you out so that he can give you kisses and hugs and ask how your time has been away from him.

Alex Keller

• When Alex gets back, like everybody on this list, he is tired.

• His leg is very sore from the prosthetic. Prosthetics are not comfortable and cause I’m serious leg and back pain.

• He will ask very nicely if you could massage his leg for him when he gets home.

• Once he’s in the car, Alex is taking off that damn prosthetic leg and rubbing his stump.

• You can tell he’s in a lot of pain just by the way, his eyes crease, and a frown forms.

• In order to get him off of the pain, you talk to him about his time.

• This usually makes him perk up since he enjoys talking to you about his adventures.

• His personality is like a mix between Johnny and Kyle, but leans more towards Kyle.

• When you get home you’ll have to help him walk because he really does not want to put on his prosthetic.

• You just leave the bag in the car to get later.

• When Alex gets into bed, it’s like a huge sigh of relief washes over him.

• You can see how red and agitated his amputated limb is.

• You do what you can to make him feel better by applying some numbing cream and giving him some pain relieving medicine.

• He always feels better once you start massaging his leg and even more so if you give them a back rub.

• This man is a simple man and enjoys a simple massage after months of no rest.

Philip Graves

• Like a soldier from World War II coming home to meet his best girl.

• He always surprises you when he comes home and has one of his shadow men drive him to the house.

• He always buys you a huge bouquet of flowers and some pretty jewelry as well.

• When he walks through the door, he asks where his baby girl is.

• And of course you come running and giving him a huge hug and crying, which he immediately envelops you into a hug.

• He’s whispering in your ear with that southern drawl about how much she misses you.

• He gets a little into himself when he’s talking about how his mission is or how he was able to handle such a dangerous and daunting task.

• As egotistical, as this may seem, it is his way of expressing his love for you in a slightly weird way.

• In the evening, he’ll probably swoop you up into a dance, with both of you, smiling and laughing.

• He tells you how much he misses you and how much he loves you.

• In bed, he shows you how much he means both of those things.

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yet-another-haven-of-dollya · 10 months

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Finally! My DoL PCs and their LIs

My friends asked me if I wanted to join the School AU with their OCs and I thought for the longest time before bringing Lya to the party. Then I kinda just felt like it and drew the whole gang :D They came out beautifully so more information and separated images undercut!

The First one is of course Lya the Blossom

Main PC

Harpy transforms, Mate for Life.

Wears all white if she can.

Very light in weight, makes her defiant attempts usually ineffective.

Went through a lot to make things easier for her loved ones.

Skilled in segg but doesn't really enjoy it anymore at this point if it's not with her loved one. What she seeks in segg with her lover is intimacy and the feeling of security.

Secretly a meanie. Gets jealous easily and envious of almost anyone, but doesn't show it or act on it often.

Despises the Temple to her core but believes Jordan is a genuinely good person. Wanted to fuck him just because.

Protective toward her lover and the children at the Orphanage.

Very insecure about her financial state. She tried to make money anytime she could.

CONSENT YOU MOTHERFU-

Can't cook. Literally. Keep her away from the kitchen.

Male Robin the Lover~ (Sorry I love this title)

The one and only.

Maybe he's trying his best, maybe he's hiding from something so terrible, who knows.

Love the purple color.

Easily scared and would cry out loud if Lya was there to reassure him and demand a lot of hugs, head pats, and kisses afterward.

Clingy as hell, but luckily he's cute just enough to let it pass.

Hell lots of freckles, everywhere all over his body even though he mostly stays at home or in the shades. Sensitive skin then.

Squishy belly.

Occasionally cross-dress when going on a date with Lya but keeps it as a hobby only.

Love to do makeup for Lya and skin care together.

Grow in height a LOT since the game started and wondering why Lya still stays the same, not that he complains about her growth of boobs and ass.

Lyah the Emancipated

The second PC, made with a lot of feast boots, almost all of the Vrel coins Lya earned.

Wears all black if he can.

Demonic Harpy Chimera Transforms.

Waiting for Robin's preg contents.

2m14. Larger body type, 6/6 physic, S athletic, Vengeful Sadist. Basically all offensive.

Fucking huge manboobs produce fucking lots of milk

Almost always wears a buttplug

The only one taller than him is Jordan.

"Blood moon? Fuck Ivory Wraith I'm out."

Still works at Strip Club, mostly because he loves wearing bunny suits and he wants to look out for Darryl.

Chef. Let him cook.

Housekeeping skill F-. Drops and crashes everything every time trying to clean or deco his room.

Doesn't know how to smile but will unconsciously do so when he's near Robin.

Doesn't understand why he's still sometimes mistaken as female.

Fem Robin the Lover~

So cute and squishy.

People unconsciously smile when she smiles.

"Too precious must protect."

Her weight is top secret.

Knows it all too well that Lyah intentionally feeds her more sweet treats and creamy drinks every day during every school break but can't resist the temptation of sweets.

Accepts gaining weight during the leisurely times, but has to lose it a bit before school starts again so she can fit into the school's uniforms.

Pretty proud that her lover is a chef at the biggest Cafe in town.

Slightly less freckle than male Robin. Just slightly.

Wardrobe full of checkered pattern clothes.

Of course she can cook well.

Perfect housewife material.

Timid when using strap-on but usually gets absorbed in the moment too much she forgor to pull the buttplug out before diving her strap in.

Lyah is not complaining though so it's all good.

Last but not least Kariya the Alter Ego!

"Well somebody has to go to prison and asylum and... hmmm"

Devil transforms

Full name Sesshouin Kariya. Kariya means "Midnight' Swallow"

Not a new save file but one of Lya's older saves. Hence the Alter Ego title.

Was born cuz I was bored and wanted to go to places Lya and Lyah can't go because they're worried about their lover being left alone.

They don't set a love interest because of that, so they can't get attached and can freely roam everywhere.

Enjoy segg as it is, purely seeking more pleasure day by day.

Drooling Masochist. Prefer group.

Get bored easily but are also quick to forget, so after a while that very same thing may pique their interest again.

Zones out a lot. Absent-minded. Sometimes clueless to things that are not segg-related.

"Ahhhh Nii-chan, nee-chan, help me it's 23:55 already and I forgor to cum inside somebody today waaaaaaaa-!!"

Intentionally dress more feminine because they love showing off.

The color palette is reversed from Lya's.

" I wonder if it's blood moon soon..."

#Okay Imma see myself out I've been drawing nonstop for two days time to get some rest and sleep #But I'm also SO READY to draw more ID card like this they're so satisfying to draw #dollya art #dol pc #robin the orphan #dol robin #degrees of lewdity #dol #dol fanart #lya the blossom #kariya the alter ego #lyah the emancipated #original character

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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year

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Kinktober Day 12 - Somnophilia

Summary: You promised every part of yourself to him, whenever he wants it.

Pairing: Maul x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, somnophilia, unprotected sex, oral, biting inappropriate use of the Force, implied discussion of consent beforehand, AU where Maul has his lower half because Nightsister magic, takes place some indistinguishable time after Order 66, no aftercare but it's Maul what do you expect

A/N: And I'm interrupting our regularly scheduled clone content to bring you some of my OG fav today. I'm rather proud of this one, if I do say so myself. I keep telling myself I'm going to write for Maul more often.

MASTERLIST

He’s near silent as he slips into your room. You’re fast asleep, tucked under the expensive silk sheets, completely ignorant to his presence. It’s rather cute, he thinks, how unaware you are. How soundly you slumber despite him slipping through your room like a wraith.

You don’t even stir when he climbs onto the bed, settling himself next to you. You’re on your side facing him, the sheet pooled around your waist. You’re bare beneath it, almost as if you had been expecting him. Always ready, always so willing to give yourself to him when he wants it.

His eyes trail your body, the curves and dips illuminated by the dim light coming through the window. He reaches out, his hand ghosting down your side. You stir, but stay asleep, even as his hand slips under the blanket, smoothing over the curve of your hip. He slides the blanket down, revealing the rest of your body to him.

He eases you onto your back and you let out a quiet sigh before settling, his hands dragging up your legs. He parts your thighs, staring down at your pussy as it’s revealed to him. His hands slide up your warm thighs, pushing them apart as he lowers himself between your legs. He keeps his hands on your legs as he bends down, inhaling the scent of you. It’s one of his favorites, not that he would ever admit it.

His tongue darts out, dragging through your folds. You let out a quiet sound in your sleep, your legs pressing against his hands for a moment. He keeps them parted so you don’t cut yourself on his horns, his tongue trailing from your hole to your clit, the muskiness of your scent getting stronger. He circles your clit with his tongue, keeping his eyes glued to your face.

You let out another quiet sound, shifting again. You’re still asleep, he can feel the hold your subconscious has on you. He can only imagine what your dreams have turned to. He knows you dream of him, he knows you wake up in the morning soaked and needy from your lascivious dreams. He listens sometimes as you touch yourself, lets your lust and pleasure wash over him in the Force as you cum with his name on your tongue. You’re entirely unaware of it all, not that you would offer much complaint.

You did promise yourself to him.

Every part of yourself.

He wraps his lips around your clit, suckling at it. You’re wet now, your slick folds pressing against his chin as he works your clit with his mouth. Your breathing has picked up, quiet sounds leaving your lips, yet still you slumber on. He pulls himself from your clit as you shift, resettling on the bed. He kneels above you, freeing himself from his pants. He’s hard, the scent and taste of you mixed with the thought of your sweet pussy clenching around him sending lust spiraling through his mind.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses inside you, the ridges of his cock catching on your tight walls as he works you open. Your body takes him, even with such little preparation, practically welcoming him inside. He lets out a breathy groan as he seats himself inside you, hips pressed flush against yours. He leans on his elbows above you, eyes watching your peaceful face.

He begins to rock his hips against yours, thrusting in and out of you. Your lips part in a quiet moan, brow furrowing in your sleep. It’s almost sweet the way your body responds to him so eagerly, so readily. Your back arches as he drags his cock along your walls, the grip of sleep beginning to loosen on your mind.

He continues to thrust into you as he watches you wake, eyes fluttering open. You stare up at him, a flash of fear passing your face as awareness takes its time coming back to you. Your back arches involuntarily, lips parting in a moan as he picks up the pace, thrusting harder into you.

Your hands rise to cling to his back, nails digging into his skin. Your eyes roll back, hips lifting to meet his thrusts. You're close already, he can tell by the way you clench tightly around him.

"Kriff, Maul!" You whine. "'M gonna cum!"

He watches your face and the way it twists with pleasure as he focuses on your clit, a ghostly pressure brushing over it. He teases you with the Force as he continues to thrust into you, your spasming walls bringing him closer to his own release.

"Cum for me." He growls, lowering his head to sink his teeth into your shoulder.

You let out a delicious sounding yelp as his teeth sink into your skin, your pussy spasming around him as you’re thrown into an orgasm. Your body writhes under his, hips jerking as you cum around his cock. He sinks into you with a grown, your body milking his own orgasm hitting him. He spills into you, cock twitching as he coats your walls with his cum.

You whimper under him, nails leaving marks on his back as you cling to him desperately. He eases the Force away from your clit, your legs shaking around his hips. He pulls free of your pussy with a shift of his hips, feeling satiated and warm after his orgasm.

He presses a shockingly delicate kiss to the sore spot where his teeth sank into your skin before he rises, tucking himself into his pants. He leaves you there without a word, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm while his cum leaks out of your pussy.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sinfulsalutations @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @ghostperson69 @captain_rexs_cyare @jediknightjana @jedi-hawkins @dalu-grantkylo

#star wars #star wars fic #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #x reader #kinktober 2023

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communicationthroughlyrics · 3 months

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Ancient Sun, Cast Your Light

This is Pt. 2 to There's No Hope In Endless Winter - It can also be read as a standalone.

You and Natasha relive some memories of your past.

TW: Smut, Reader has Cancer, Nat is a huge softie....uhhhh yeah

Word Count: 8.4k

The cool grass rustled around Natasha, a gentle breeze rustling through the tree above her. She let out a contented sigh, taking a deep breath as she looked around her. The sun continued to peek through the clouds as they moved across the sky. There was a gentle smile on her face as you elicited a joyous laugh. It had been a while since she had felt this carefree.

Y/N sat beside her, plucking at the grass absently with their fingers. They hadn't talked much since they had arrived, but Natasha didn't mind. The quiet was comfortable, a stark contrast to the usual bustle of their lives. In these moments, she felt the most connected to you, as if the air between them was charged with an invisible current that only grew stronger with each shared silence.

The distant sound of children playing in the park nearby, and the occasional bark of a dog filtered through the air, adding a sense of normalcy to the scene. Natasha felt you reach over, placing your hand on top of hers. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Your skin was warm, and she felt the comforting beat of your pulse beneath her fingertips.

Turning to you, Natasha's smile grew. "Do you remember," she began, her voice low and thoughtful, "the time I first met you?"

You nodded, eyes sparkling with the recollection. "How could I forget? Wanda was giving me so much grief after I first saw you, I was smitten."

Natasha chuckled, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. "I had no idea you felt that way. I thought you were just trying to distract me."

Y/N leaned closer, a playful glint in their eye. "Well, I was, but in more ways than one."

Natasha's blush deepened, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she met your gaze with a spark of her own. "Well, you certainly succeeded," she murmured, the memory of that fateful encounter warming her. "It was during the mission in Vienna, right?"

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. "Yes, it was. You were so focused on Pietrov, that you didn't even notice me staring."

Natasha's eyes searched yours, the teasing light in them dimming slightly as she remembered the first time she saw you. You had been a blur of motion and color in the corner of her eye, but the moment she turned to look, everything else had faded away. It was like the universe had conspired to bring you into focus, making it impossible for her to ignore the magnetic pull she felt towards you.

"I noticed," she admitted softly, her thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "But I had to play it cool. You know, for the mission.”

Natasha stood at the far end of the ballroom, drink in hand as her eyes scanned the room, looking for her target. She saw Bruce chatting with another man across the room before Steve’s voice cut into her comms.

“Anything?” He asked.

“Not yet.”

“Stay on your toes, Romanoff. Be safe.”

“Kinda hard to stay on your toes in heels, Rogers.”

Natasha’s voice was a low murmur, the chatter of the partygoers a faint backdrop. She took a sip of her drink, the cool liquid sliding down her throat as she narrowed her eyes. The man she was looking for was a ghost, slipping through the shadows of the grand ballroom like a wraith. The glimmer of chandeliers played on the walls, throwing shadows that danced with the rhythm of the music, but she remained focused.

A soft rustle of fabric alerted her to a movement in her peripheral vision. She turned her head slightly, keeping her gaze casual. There he was, the man they’d been sent to extract, engaging in a hushed conversation with a woman whose smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. The woman glanced around before leaning in closer, whispering something Natasha couldn’t quite catch.

Natasha couldn't help but notice how stunning the woman was. A tight, soft white dress, tanned skin, and a trim figure, a toned muscular thigh peeking out from the high slit in the fabric. She could see a tattoo peeking out from the dress on her thigh, another on the top of her foot, visible in the tie-up heels adorning her feet. Her piercing hazel eyes continued to shift across the room, looking uneasy. Her jet black and silver hair tied back in a tight bun accentuated her sharp jawline. Natasha was rendered speechless. Drawn. She couldn't help but feel a magnetism towards the figure across the ballroom.

The man, her target, was a stark contrast. Tall and lean, his tailored tuxedo fitting his form like a second skin, his hair slicked back in a way that was both stylish and practical for a quick escape. His eyes, a piercing blue, darted around the room, never lingering on any one place for too long.

Natasha waited for the perfect moment, her heart racing. She knew she had to be careful. Any misstep and the mission would be compromised. She took a deep breath, her grip tightening on the glass. The woman leaned back, a nod signifying the conversation was over. The man slipped a small device into his pocket, and Natasha knew her window of opportunity was closing.

Moving swiftly yet gracefully, she maneuvered through the throng of partygoers, her eyes never leaving her quarry. The music grew louder as she approached, the rhythmic beat of the bass thumping through the soles of her shoes. She felt a hand on her arm, and she spun around, ready for a fight. It was Bruce, his eyes searching hers with a silent question. She gave a single nod, and he melted back into the crowd.

The woman with hazel eyes caught Natasha’s gaze for a brief second before looking away, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. Natasha’s pulse quickened. Had she been made? No, she couldn’t have been. The woman’s eyes darted back to her target, then back to Natasha, a hint of concern in her gaze. Natasha used the distraction to close the distance between them.

"Steve, I found him. He made a trade with someone, he's heading out the east doors." she continued to follow the slender man, dodging partygoers as she weaved through the crowd.

"Good work, Natasha. I'm on my way."

Steve's voice was a firm reassurance in her ear as Natasha quickened her pace. The man was moving with purpose now, his strides long and swift, as if he could feel her closing in. The ballroom was a blur of color and light, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the faint hint of tension. She knew she had to act fast.

Suddenly, she felt a jolt of electricity as a hand grabbed her forearm. Natasha wheeled around, gasping as she took in the closeness of the woman. Her strong perfume invaded Natasha's senses, giving her an odd sense of calm.

"Let's dance," the woman with hazel eyes whispered in Natasha's ear, her voice carrying over the music.

Natasha knew she should continue on, her mind screamed to pull away, but she found herself nodding yes instead. If this was a trap, she would deal with it. They moved to the dance floor, Natasha's eyes never leaving her target as he approached the east doors. The woman's hand slid down to Natasha's wrist, her grip firm yet gentle, guiding her through the steps of a tango. Natasha followed along seamlessly, trying to ignore the feeling of this stunning woman pressed against her.

"I'm Y/N." the woman whispered, sending chills up Natasha's arms.

"Y/N." she whispered.

Natasha felt a strange electricity pulse through her body at the sound of the woman's name, and the way it felt coming off her lips. She fought to keep her breathing even as they danced, her eyes still fixed on the man slipping away. The woman, Y/N, followed her gaze, her movements fluid and precise.

"He's not going to get away," she whispered in Natasha's ear, her arms coming up to rest around her neck. Natasha's gaze whipped back to the woman dancing in her arms, a questioning look on her features.

Steve's voice cut through the building tension through her earpiece. "We have him, Natasha. You can exfil now." She quickly pulled away, making her way through the crowd and exiting the building. She needed to find out who you were. She quickly made her way to the Quinjet, boarding as her mind wandered. Steve fired up the jets, departing for the trip from Vienna back to New York.

"Who was she?" Natasha asked, unable to shake the encounter from her mind.

"Who was who?" Steve asked, absolutely clueless as to what she was getting at.

"The woman, at the party. The one who danced with me before the extraction. She was talking to Pietrov."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't see anyone. What's her name?"

Natasha paused, realizing she didn't know. "Y/N is all she said." A sly smile graced Steve's face, as he realized who she was talking about.

"Oh, Romanoff. You're in for a treat.”

“Yeah, well Steve wasn’t helping,” Natasha fired back. “You may have been hearing it from Wands, but Steve was a whole other animal.” She laughed as shook her head, looking up at the sky and tree above.

“Well, our first date was a mess too, Tash.” You reminded her, falling back to the grass and laughing uncontrollably.

“I still consider Vienna a first date, of sorts,” she responded. “We were drinking, and dancing. It was a date.”

You smacked her arm, laughing at this response. “Nat! You didn’t even know who I was!”

“Stop pacing, you look fine!”Wanda stood, laughing at your discomfort as she made her way across her room to you. “I can hear your thoughts, and you’re going to be fine.” She rested her hands on your shoulders, effectively stopping you from pacing your way through her bedroom floor.

“What if she changes her mind, Wanda?”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Uhh, Y/N, it’s like you forget I can read minds, first off.” You smack her arm, a smile finally gracing your features as you roll your eyes. “She’s just as excited, trust me.” There was a knock on the door, and Wanda seemed to realize who it was. “Quick, in my bathroom!” She whispered. You silently ran to the bathroom, shutting the door slightly before slipping into the bathtub, and drawing the curtain shut. You strained to listen to what was going on outside the room.

“Nat, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m nervous, Wands. You’re her best friend. I need advice.”

Wanda’s laugh echoed through the room. “Natasha, you’re one of the most capable people I know. You can handle this. Just be yourself, she’ll love you for it.”

“But what if I mess up?” Natasha’s voice was barely a whisper, even though the bathroom door was slightly ajar.

“You won’t mess up, Natasha. Just be genuine and honest with her. That’s all she asks for,” Wanda replied calmly.

You sat in the bathtub, heart racing, listening to the conversation outside. It was oddly comforting to hear Natasha's voice, despite the nerves that had been plaguing you since you had left the confines of your bedroom, seeking Wanda's help to get ready for your date with the redhead. You took a deep breath, trying to slow your racing thoughts.

"What if she sees right through me?" Natasha's voice was filled with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before. It was a stark contrast to the usual confidence that rolled off her in waves.

"Natasha," Wanda starts. "I think she already does, honey. She sees the amazing woman that you are. Just relax," Wanda's voice was soothing, a stark contrast to Natasha's nerves.

Natasha let out a sigh. "Alright, I'll try. Thanks, Wanda."

"Tash?" Wanda calls out before the spy slips out of her room. "You look fantastic."

You hear the door click shut, and Wanda lets out a deep sigh before calling out your name.

"You can come out now, she's gone."

Y/N stepped out of the bathroom, her heart racing as she looked at Wanda. She was dressed in a simple black dress, the neckline plunging just enough to hint at the tattoos that covered her collarbone. Her hair was down, curling around her shoulders, and she had applied a touch of makeup to accentuate her cheekbones and eyes.

"So, what do you think?" Y/N asked, twirling around.

Wanda's eyes lit up. "You look stunning. Natasha's going to be speechless."

"Thanks," Y/N replied, feeling a warmth spread through her chest.

"But seriously, don't worry," Wanda said, taking her hand. "Natasha's not going anywhere. You guys have something real."

"Wanda," you sigh, shooting her a warning glance. "We haven't even been on a date yet."

Wanda waved a dismissive hand. "Details, Y/N. I've seen the way you two look at each other. It's like watching a rom-com, minus the cheesy lines." She turned and walked back towards her bed. "And your hand-to-hand combat sessions with her are...tense, to say the least. It's almost disgusting."

You couldn't help but laugh at Wanda's bluntness. "Okay, okay, I get it. But what if she thinks I'm just a fling?"

Wanda rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. "Natasha Romanoff doesn't do flings. Trust me, if she's nervous too, it's because she cares."

Y/N took a deep breath, nodding. She knew Wanda was right. Natasha had never been one for casual relationships. The thought brought a flutter to her stomach. Was this it? The moment she had been waiting for?

"Now, Y/N. I love you, but please. Go downstairs, wait for her there. I would like to read, drink some tea, and go to sleep."

You rolled your eyes, but you knew Wanda was right. You had been pacing and worrying for hours now. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing out the dress and checking your makeup. You took a deep breath and made your way to the stairs, taking them one at a time, trying to calm your racing heart. As you made your way to the bottom step, your gaze made its way around the room. Your heart stopped at the sight before you.

Natasha was standing in the entryway, looking like she had stepped out of a magazine. Her hair was down in loose waves, and she wore a dress that hugged her in all the right places. It was a deep red that made her emerald eyes pop. You felt your breath catch in your throat as she turned to look at you. Her eyes took you in, a smile slowly spreading across her lips. It was a look that made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

You were so distracted by the woman before you, that you missed the bottom step.

Natasha's eyes widened, and she bolted across the room to catch you, her reflexes kicking in faster than the speed of light. She grabbed your arm as you stumbled, slightly tweaking your ankle in the heels on your feet. Her hands were warm and firm against your bare skin. "You okay?" she asked with a hint of amusement and worry in her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm okay." you ignore the dull ache from your ankle as you look into her viridescent eyes.

Natasha's grip tightened slightly, her smile never leaving her face. "Good," she said, her eyes scanning you from head to toe. "You look...amazing."

The air between them grew thick with anticipation, and Natasha offered her arm. "Shall we?"

You couldn't will yourself to speak, the fear of saying something stupid overtaking you. You simply nod instead.

The evening outside was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the compound. Natasha led you to her blacked-out Corvette parked at the curb, a sight that brought a smile to your face.

"I know it's not exactly a limo, but I thought we could use some speed." She winked, opening the door for you.

You couldn't help but laugh, sliding into the passenger seat. "It's perfect."

Natasha closed the door and went around to the driver's side, sliding in with an ease that suggested she had done this many times before. She fired up the engine, and the car roared to life. You watched as the neighborhood lights passed by in a blur, Natasha's confidence behind the wheel somehow soothing your nerves.

The destination was a quiet, intimate Italian restaurant, the kind that seemed to be plucked straight from the heart of Tuscany. As Natasha helped you out of the car, her touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine. The hostess greeted them with a knowing smile, leading them to a secluded table in the back. The dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background created an atmosphere that was both relaxing and charged with anticipation.

The conversation was easy and flowed naturally as they shared stories of their past missions and the friends they had made along the way. You found yourself opening up to Natasha, sharing more than you had ever allowed yourself to with anyone else. She listened intently, her eyes never leaving yours, and you felt seen in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. The tension between you was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

Soon, your waiter came over with your orders, but the person sitting next to you was unaware of his presence behind him. He stood, pushing the chair into the waiter, knocking a full plate of hot pasta straight onto your head and lap.

You shrieked in shock, jumping out of your seat as Natasha's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, are you okay?" she asked, rushing to your side. Forgetting that your ankle wasn't feeling so great, you fell with the weight suddenly shifting onto it, grasping at anything as you plummeted to the ground. Grasping at the tablecloth on the table, you fell backward, sending the glasses of wine flying across the dining room.

The restaurant went silent, all eyes on the two of you. You felt the warmth of the sauce and the stickiness of the noodles clinging to your hair and dress. Natasha was immediately at your side, her hand on your elbow, helping you to your feet. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, mortification etched across her face. "Let's get you cleaned up."

The waiter was at your side in an instant, offering napkins and profuse apologies. You took them with a shaky laugh, trying to wipe the sauce from your face. "It's okay," you assured him. "It's just an accident." Despite the humiliation, you couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with Natasha, who was equally covered in sauce. It was a moment that anyone else would paint as a disaster, but instead, it felt oddly... perfect.

Natasha laughed at the memory of you both covered in pasta sauce, her driving you both back to the compound.

"It's not funny!" You exclaimed, half-heartedly smacking her arm. "I've never been so embarrassed in my life. It also ruined one of my favorite dresses!"

Natasha chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well, it certainly was...memorable."

"Memorable is one way to put it," was your response, the corners of your mouth tilting up despite the sticky situation you both had been in after your first date.

"I also seem to remember F.R.I.D.A.Y identifying that you were hurt the moment we walked into the compound." Natasha tilted her head towards you, sending you a wry smile. "You didn't want to tell me you twisted your ankle when you so gracefully fell down the stairs."

You couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "Well, I didn't want to ruin the moment."

Natasha's eyes softened. "You couldn't have ruined it, no matter what."

“You’ve always been so supportive, Nat.” You smiled at her, her expression faltering as she looked at her hands in her lap.

“I’m coming to this appointment with you, babe. I need to be here for you.” Natasha insisted, cupping your face with her hands.

“Nat, it’s ok. I know you need to go in to talk with Tony and Fury. This appointment is just confirming what we already know.” You respond weakly. You had grown increasingly into a shell of yourself, as the cancer took hold of your body. Natasha shook her head.

“No. I’m coming with you. I already cleared it. They understand.”

“Tash,” you start.

“Y/N, I’m coming. I told you I would be here for you with this. It’s bad enough I was gone and left you alone while you were figuring this out. I’m not leaving again.”

Her determination in not wanting to leave your side reassured you because once she spoke it, it was the truth. She was not going to leave your side at all during this journey.

“OK, Nat. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Now let’s get you to the doctor.” She guided you to the car, opened the door, and helped you slide inside.

The ride to the hospital was a quiet one, filled with Natasha’s gentle touch on your hand as the music from the radio played quietly in the background. Each moment felt heavier than the last like the air was thick with unspoken words and fears. As the car pulled into the hospital parking lot, Natasha squeezed your hand reassuringly. She knew what was coming, you knew what was coming, and yet it didn’t make it any easier. The cold, sterile smell of the hospital hit you as soon as you stepped out of the car, a stark reminder of what was waiting inside those walls.

Walking into the oncology wing, you both took a deep breath. Natasha’s grip tightened, and you could feel her trying to be strong for you. You gave her a small smile, letting her know you appreciated it. The nurse at the reception desk looked up as you approached and offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She knew what was happening here today. She’d seen it before. The doctor’s office was on the fifth floor, and the elevator ride felt like an eternity. The ding of the doors opening was almost a relief, and Natasha helped you out and down the hallway to the office.

The doctor, a kind-faced man with a gentle demeanor, greeted you both with a nod and a sad smile. "Hello, Y/N." he held out his hand, your frail hand reaching out to shake it.

"Please, sit." He gestured towards the chair, but Natasha was already pushing it closer to you. She didn’t let go of your hand until you were seated comfortably, then took a spot beside you.

The doctor cleared his throat, his eyes flicking over the charts on his desk. "Y/N, we've reviewed the latest scans and the results of your recent tests." His voice was calm, but there was an underlying seriousness that made your heart race. You knew what was coming. But it didn't make this any easier. "I am afraid there is no easy way to say, but we have confirmed that you have cancer."

Natasha's grip on your hand tightened, her knuckles turning white. You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn't dare look at her. "What's the... the prognosis?" you asked, your voice quivering.

The doctor's eyes met yours with a mix of empathy and professionalism. "The cancer has already spread," he began, your heart thumping in your chest. "We will attack this cancer with the most advanced forms of treatment to try and curb any more spread."

You nodded, trying to absorb the information, feeling Natasha's body tense beside you. "What does that mean for me?" You could hear her suck in a deep breath, she was trying not to break. You could tell, you always could.

The doctor's expression grew more solemn. "The treatment will be aggressive. We're looking at a combination of chemotherapy, radiation, and possibly surgery. The side effects can be quite severe, and the road ahead will be challenging."

Natasha leaned in, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest. "What are her chances?"

The doctor cleared his throat, sending her a reassuring smile. "Well, Ms. Romanoff," he shifted his eyes between the both of you. "Mr. Stark has ensured that we will get Ms. Y/L/N the best treatment possible."

"Romanoff," you corrected. The doctor's eyes quickly darted to you, a questioning stare being sent your way. "We're...married." You gestured in between Natasha and yourself. "I just haven't completed the name change yet. Romanoff is my last name."

The doctor nodded, scribbled something down, and then focused back on you. "Congratulations, Mrs. Romanoff," he nodded your way, then Natashas. "We're going to do everything we can. But we must start the treatment as soon as possible to ensure its success." he stood, reaching out for Natasha to shake his hand, then yours.

Natasha's grip was ironclad around yours as you both left the office, her eyes on the floor, lost in thought. The reality of your situation was setting in, and it felt like the floor was giving way beneath your feet. The air in the hallway was thick with tension, the kind that could be cut with a knife.

"Let's get you home," Natasha murmured, her voice tight. She guided you back to the elevator, her hand never leaving your arm. The descent to the ground floor was a blur of lights and faces that you couldn't focus on. All you could think about was the battle ahead, the one neither of you had ever thought you would have to fight.

Once outside, the fresh air hits you like a punch to the gut. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Natasha opened the car door and helped you in, the engine roaring to life as she slammed it shut. She took her place behind the wheel, her jaw clenched and eyes on the road ahead. The silence was deafening, filled only with the rumble of the engine and the distant sounds of the city.

"I'm sorry, Nat."

Natasha's eyes remained fixed on the road, her grip on the steering wheel tight. "Don't you dare apologize to me," she said firmly, her voice wavering. "This isn't your fault."

You knew she was trying to keep it together for you, but the tremor in her voice gave her away. You reached over and placed your hand on her thigh, feeling the tension beneath your palm. "I know, but I'm sorry you have to go through this with me."

Her gaze softened, and she pulled over into a parking lot close by. Turning to look at you, she grabbed your hands, causing your attention to turn towards her. Your eyes were misty, all the emotion you were feeling was bubbling out of your eyes.

"Y/N, don't ever...EVER apologize for this again. This is not your fault," she began, speaking softly. "I love you, and I meant it when I said those vows. We will get you through this."

You felt a sob building in your chest, but you swallowed it down. Natasha was right, you didn't need to apologize. But it was hard not to feel guilty, not to feel like you were a burden.

"I know, Nat," you whispered, your eyes brimming with tears. "But I'm scared."

Natasha's eyes searched yours, and she nodded solemnly. "I am too. But I'm not going anywhere. You're not fighting alone. I will be here every fucking day. I will help you when you need it, and be waiting when you don't. You're my wife, my best friend, my love."

Her words were a balm to your soul, but the fear remained, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. "What if the treatment doesn't work?" you managed to ask, your voice small and scared.

"It will work."

Natasha's voice was firm, a beacon of certainty in the sea of doubt that threatened to drown you. She pulled you into an embrace, her arms encircling you with a strength that seemed to defy the gravity of your fears. "We're going to fight this together, and we're going to win," she murmured into your hair. kissing the crown of your head, she continued to hold you as you sobbed.

Natasha’s eyes went misty as she remembered that first appointment, how harrowing it really, truly was to hear the doctor confirm that you did have cancer and that it was already spreading. She will never forget the feeling of her heart pausing as she heard him say that the cancer was spreading, and they needed to be aggressive. She remembers her stomach dropping at the look of sheer fear in your eyes, the hurt flashing across your face.

“You helped me so much, Nat. I need you to know that.” You muttered, reaching out to grab her face, forcing her to look at you.

“I can’t help but feel like I should have done more,” her eyes darted back and forth between yours, seeking the comfort she always found in those piercing hazel eyes.

“There is nothing- NOTHING else you could have done, Tash. You were amazing. Supportive. You were my rock, baby.” You rested your forehead against hers, her eyes shut as it felt like you were surrounding her. “I didn’t think it was possible for me to fall for you more, but in those moments, I did.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly leaned back, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “How did you know?” She asked.

“Know what, baby?”

“That you loved me. That I was it for you.” She looked so small- like this was the one thing she needed to know. “With all the terrible things I had done, that I had to do, you still love me anyway. Why?”

“Tash, it’s not about what you’ve done or who you used to be. It’s about who you are now. You’re my hero, Natasha. You’re the one who fought beside me, you’re the one who didn’t leave when things got hard. You’re the one who sat with me through every chemo session, who held my hair when I threw up, who cried with me when I was scared. You’re the one who showed me love in a way I’ve never felt before. That’s why I love you, Natasha Romanoff. That’s why you’re it for me. That’s why I knew you were the one.”

Natasha’s eyes searched yours, the pain and doubt slowly dissipating as she took in your words. You could see the realization dawn on her, the understanding that love wasn’t about perfection, but about the moments of strength and weakness shared. She suddenly laughed, a watery chuckle as she leaned back.

“What’s got you laughing?” You ask, enjoying seeing her smiling after such a heavy conversation.

“The first night after our wedding.” She responded, a glimmer in her eyes as you remembered what happened on the first full night of your married life.

Natasha had her arms wrapped around you from behind, effectively trapping your hands behind your back. You were both laughing uncontrollably, as she was trying to stop you from breaking free and running to the pool of the suite you had been gifted by Tony for your honeymoon.

"Natasha, no, I swear, I'll get you back for this," you gasped, feeling the strength in her arms as she held you in place. The warmth of her breath against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, a stark contrast to the cool evening air that surrounded you.

"Nope, Y/N! We're going to bed!" she laughed as you tried to pull her towards the private pool.

You squirmed in her grasp, your eyes lighting up with mischief. "What if I don't want to? Are you going to make me go to sleep?"

Her grip tightened playfully, and she whispered in your ear, "I know what will make you sleepy," she began, licking up the side of your neck to your ear.

"Babe!" you shriek, wiggling and squirming further as you neared the edge of the pool.

"I'm not letting go," she murmured, her teeth grazing your skin gently. You smirk as you realize she had no clue the proximity you were to the pool at the point, so you shifted your weight, flinging both you and her into the cool water.

The sudden splash and coldness took Natasha by surprise, and she let out a gasp before laughing as the water enveloped her. You emerged from the pool, both of you soaking wet and the sound of your laughter echoed around the suite. She playfully splashed water at you, her eyes shining with excitement.

"You think you're so clever," she said, pushing her wet hair out of her face. You were taken aback by how jaw-droppingly beautiful she was right now, her features highlighted by the blue reflection of the water, her eyes seeming to glow in the light. The water ran down her face and chest as she waded towards you.

You couldn't help but smile, taking in the sight of your wife in her hotel robe, soaking wet. "I guess I am," you replied, standing your ground, ready for whatever she had planned next.

Natasha took a step closer, the water around her shimmering with each movement. She smirked, her eyes darkening with a hint of challenge. "We'll see about that," she said, and before you could react, she lunged at you, sending another wave of water your way.

You stumbled back, trying to dodge her attack, but she was too fast. The water splashed around as you grappled with each other, laughing and gasping for breath. The gentle sound of the waterfall feature at the far end of the pool became background noise to your playful battle.

As Natasha wrapped her arms around your waist and tried to dunk you under, you felt a surge of strength and turned the tables, lifting her up and tossing her into the water. She came up sputtering, her hair sticking to her face, and for a moment you just looked at each other, the laughter dying down, the air charged with something else entirely.

"You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?" she asked, rising to her feet, looking at your slightly shorter frame.

You felt your cheeks heat up and a shy smile spread across your face. "Thanks, Natasha," you murmured, your eyes dropping to the water rippling around you. Your gaze wandered as you watched the water roll down her body. "Dare I say, but you're not so bad yourself."

Natasha stepped closer, the water sluicing between your bodies, creating a dance of light and shadow in the dimly lit suite. She reached up, her fingertips brushing the water droplets from your cheek. "I love you," she said, her voice soft and earnest.

You felt your heart swell in your chest, and you leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was both tender and filled with passion. The coolness of the water contrasted with the heat building between you, and you could feel her body mold against yours as your arms wrapped around her neck. Breaking the kiss, Natasha looked into your eyes, the mischief slowly fading to be replaced by something more profound. "You're mine," she whispered, her voice a mix of possessiveness and adoration that sent a thrill through you.

"Always," you breathed, reaching up to cradle her face in your hands. Your thumbs traced the lines of her cheeks as you gazed into her eyes, the blue light from the pool casting an ethereal glow on her skin. The tension grew, the playfulness of the moment shifting into something more serious, more intimate.

With a gentle tug, Natasha pulled you closer, her arms slipping around your waist as you stepped into her embrace. Your bodies aligned perfectly, the cold water a stark contrast to the heat of your skin touching. Her eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air. You nodded slightly, and she leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was hungry and demanding, leaving no doubt as to what she wanted.

Her hands slid down to the saturated tie of your robe, and with a deft twist, it loosened, revealing your naked body to the cool air. You felt a thrill of excitement as the fabric fell away, exposing you to her gaze. The water washed over your skin as you wrapped your arms around her neck, deepening the kiss, feeling the warmth of her body against yours.

Natasha’s hands roamed over your wet flesh, exploring every inch of you, setting your skin alight with desire. You could feel the hardness of her abs beneath the thin fabric of her own robe, and the urge to touch her grew too strong to resist. With a groan, you broke the kiss and began to undo the knot at her waist, eager to feel her bare skin against yours.

The robe fell open, revealing Natasha’s stunning figure, illuminated by the moonlight that danced on the water’s surface. Her skin glistened with droplets of water, her curves accentuated by the shadows that played across her body. You let your hands glide over her hips, tracing the lines of her muscles, feeling the power and grace she contained.

Her eyes never left yours as she stepped out of the robe, letting it float away into the pool. She was all strength and beauty, and you couldn’t believe she was yours. The water was up to your chests now, and you both knew where this was heading. The playfulness had turned into a passionate embrace, a silent declaration of love and desire.

With a growl, Natasha picked you up, and your legs automatically wrapped around her waist. The water made your bodies slide against each other with ease as she carried you to the edge of the pool. She set you down on the cool tiles, the contrast making you gasp. The moonlight shone down on you, casting a silver glow across your skin as you kissed her again, more fervently this time.

Her hands roamed up your back, caressing the arch of your spine before reaching up to tangle in your hair. You could feel the tightness in her grip, the urgency in her kisses, and it sent a bolt of desire straight to your core.

You pulled back, panting, your eyes never leaving hers. "Take me to bed," you whispered, the need in your voice unmistakable.

Natasha smirked, her eyes dark with lust. "As you wish," she said, her grip tightening on your waist as she lifted you again, the cold water dripping from both of you. She carried you out of the pool, her steps sure and swift, the sound of the water droplets hitting the tiles echoing in the quiet suite. Her wet feet padded towards the bedroom as you kissed up and down her shoulder and neck, nipping and leaving a little trail of bite marks.

The air grew warmer as you moved away from the pool, but the heat between you didn’t lessen. She lay you down on the bed, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the coldness of the floor. You looked up at her, the moonlight highlighting her features as she hovered above you, her body a sculpture of perfection and power. Her eyes were full of love and hunger, and you felt your heart race in anticipation.

With a swift movement, Natasha straddled you, her thighs pressing into the sides of your waist. You could feel the warmth of her core against yours, and it was all you could do to keep from bucking your hips upward. Her fingers traced your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine, as she leaned in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was deep and slow, full of promise and passion. You whimpered as she pulled away, resting her forehead on yours.

"How are you mine?" you whispered, your hands running up and down her back tracing the familiar curve of her spine.

Natasha's eyes searched yours, her gaze intense and filled with a vulnerability you rarely saw. "Because you love me, even with all my flaws," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Because you're the one person who sees through the Black Widow, and into the girl beneath."

With that, she kissed you, hard. You were knocked breathless, feeling all the lust, love, and passion in her body through the kiss.

You felt Natasha’s hand slide down your chest, her thumb grazing your nipple and eliciting a gasp. She smirked against your lips, taking full advantage of your momentary distraction to deepen the kiss. Your hands slid down her back, gripping her firm ass, and you couldn’t help but grind against her, the need for more contact overwhelming.

Her teeth nipped at your bottom lip, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You moaned, arching up to meet her, your hips moving in a silent plea for her to take you. Natasha’s hands moved to brace herself as you fell backward onto the bed once more, her hips rocking against yours as your tongues continued thier battle for dominance.

The feel of her wet skin on yours was intoxicating, and you could feel the heat building between your legs. Your hands slid down her body, cupping her breasts, feeling her moan into your mouth as you gently pulled on the pert buds.

Natasha’s kiss grew more demanding, her tongue dancing with yours in a fiery duet. She began to grind against you in earnest, the friction sending sparks through your body. You reached down, sliding a hand between her legs, feeling the wetness that had pooled there. She gasped, her hips bucking against your hand.

You teased her clit with gentle circles, feeling it swell beneath your touch. Her breath grew ragged, and she began to rock against your hand, her eyes never leaving yours. The sight of her losing control was enough to make you want to come undone, but you held back, wanting to savor every moment of this intimate dance.

With a groan, Natasha broke the kiss, her eyes glazed with desire. "Inside me," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need. You nodded, sliding two fingers into her warm, wet depths. She arched her back, her nails digging into your shoulders as you moved within her, setting a rhythm that had her moaning your name.

Her movements grew more erratic, her breathing faster, and you knew she was close. You added a third finger, feeling her tighten around you. "Yes," she breathed, her hips moving in time with your hand. "Just like that."

The sound of your wet skin slapping together filled the room, mingling with Natasha’s cries of pleasure. You could feel your own arousal growing, the need to taste her becoming almost unbearable. You slid your fingers out of her and she whimpered in protest, but you had other plans.

You rolled her over onto her back, her legs parting willingly for you. Her eyes never left yours as you positioned yourself between her thighs. She was so wet, so ready for you, and the sight was enough to make you ache with desire. You rested your cheek on her thigh, wrapping your arms around her thighs as you looked up at her though your eyelashes.

"Can I taste you?" you asked, your voice a soft, needy whisper. Natasha's breath hitched, and she nodded, her chest rising and falling rapidly. You kissed her inner thigh, feeling the smoothness of her skin against your lips, before moving up to her center. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, making your mouth water as you hovered just above her clit.

With a gentle lick, you tasted her sweetness, and Natasha's hips jerked in response. You took that as an invitation, diving in to give her the pleasure she craved. You licked and kissed her, your tongue swirling around her clit before sliding down to probe her entrance. She was so wet, so warm, and the noises she made were pure music to your ears. You felt her hands in your hair, guiding you, urging you to give her more, and you were more than happy to oblige.

Natasha's legs began to tremble, and you could feel her tension building. You increased the pressure, sucking gently on her clit as you slid a finger inside her. Her walls clenched around you, and you knew she was close. You curled your finger, finding that perfect spot that made her cry out. Her nails dug into your scalp, but the pain only heightened your desire.

Her hips rose off the bed, and you held her down with your hands, not letting her escape the pleasure. "I'm going to cum," she gasped, her voice barely audible. You could feel her body tense, and then she was shattering, her orgasm rushing through her like a wave. You didn't stop, riding it out with her, until she was limp and panting beneath you.

You kissed your way back up her body, your mouth finding hers again. "You're amazing," Natasha murmured, her eyes half-closed with satisfaction. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride at being able to bring her to such a height of pleasure. You felt her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if she needed to feel the weight of your body on top of hers.

Her legs wrapped around your waist, drawing you in, and you felt the heat of her against you. It was Natasha’s turn to tease you now, her hips rolling against yours in a way that made you ache for more. "Nat," you growled, leaning down and nibbling on the sweet spot behind her ear.

"Let me make you feel good, detka,” she whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Her hand slid down your frame, reaching the apex of your thighs. She ran her fingers through your folds, slowly teasing you before sliding into your wet heat.

Natasha's touch was like a jolt of electricity, sending shockwaves through your body. You bit down on your lip to keep from screaming out as she began to move in and out, her thumb circling your clit in perfect rhythm. The way she watched you, her eyes dark with lust, made you feel exposed and vulnerable, but in the best possible way.

"Scream, baby. No one is here to hear you. Let me hear you." she pulled your lip from the confines of your teeth, before kissing the side of your neck.

The sensation of Natasha’s hand on you was like nothing you had ever felt before. The weight of this being your first time as wives, starting your lives together as a married couple adds to the feeling of the night. Your body was tightening, coiling like a spring, ready to release. You couldn’t hold back anymore, and you didn’t want to. You cried out, the sound echoing in the room as you gave in to the pleasure she was giving you. Her strokes grew quicker, her thumb pressing harder until you felt the world spin around you as you climaxed.

Natasha’s smile was full of satisfaction as she watched you come undone. She kissed you deeply, her hand still moving, feeling your walls pulse around her fingers. The kiss was gentle, loving, and full of a possessiveness that made your toes curl. When your orgasm subsided, she slid her hand out of you, leaving you feeling empty.

Before you could protest, Natasha was moving again, positioning herself over you. She straddled you, her knees on either side of your hips. You could see the hunger in her eyes, the way they devoured every inch of your exposed body. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against your chest as she whispered, "Now, it's time for me to make you truly mine." The statement sent a shiver throughout your body at the thought, and she leaned you back to the messy duvet on the bed. That night you both pushed each other to your limits, effectively ruining each other for anyone else.

“You had the most uncanny way of making me feel the most loved I have ever felt,” you began. “You, of all people. The big, bad, Black Widow. The ruthless assassin, the cold-hearted spy.” You smiled, watching the glimmer in Natasha’s eyes. “You saw me, all of me. You loved me, for me. I can never repay you for how you made me feel, Tash.”

Natasha took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving yours. “You make it sound like I’m a saint, Y/N. But you know I’m not. Far from it.” She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve done things... things that I’m not proud of. But with you, it was different. It was like I could finally be good. Or at least, good enough for you to love me back.”

“You don’t need to justify your feelings to me. I know who you are, Natasha. And I love every part of you, the good and the bad. You saved me, in ways you’ll never understand.”

The silence grew heavier, filled with unspoken words and the echo of past battles. Natasha’s hand reached out, her fingers tracing the contours of your face gently. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much,” she whispered, the wind suddenly whipping up. The warmth of the wind surrounding her made her feel comforted, surrounded by your presence. She let out a deep sigh as the breeze subsided, reaching to her right and grabbing the fresh flowers. She knelt, picking up the now crispy bouquet, swapping it for the fresh one. Straightening the bits and baubles that were scattered about, she traced your name with her finger, before kissing her fingers and pressing them to your headstone.

"I love you, Y/N."

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crazyyluvr · 3 months

Text

Gotta put Some Color in the Miserable Place — Much to Dirtyhands' Liking

pairing: kaz x gn!reader

summary: A famous graffiti artist has been roaming around Ketterdam for a while now. It was about time you set your sights on the Slat, bare and just waiting to be painted on. A certain gloved man didn't exactly like that.

genre: idk how to label it but it's the beginning of something

wc: 2.3k

content: art-inclined reader, they/them pronouns, kaz getting annoyed, ooc kaz? not sure how to write him properly yet, spraypaint exists because I need it to, fighting

note: just a little something to get me out of my slump — it sucks, i'm sorry

oneshot under the cut :: not edited :: part 1/?

Ketterdam wasn't known to be the most luxurious of cities in Kerch. Yes, it did have places where people with money could settle down and quality napkins for them to wipe their buttcheeks on, but the "slums" part of the city overpowered that luxury. There were numerous criminals, thieves, pickpockets, and people of other illegal occupations roaming around the streets, especially the streets of the West Stave. At every alley, there would be at least some signs of a beating that occurred not too long ago. Even when people inhaled the air, it didn't feel clean.

One of your biggest concerns about the city, however, wasn't about how cleanly it was. What worried you the most was about how damn plain it seemed to be.

Where was the color? The flare? Come on, if people around the lands travel to Kerch for business, they might as well have some pretty things to look at as they cautiously walked on the streets.

You took it upon yourself to rectify that. Which was why, for the past two years, you have been one of the most sought-after criminals of Ketterdam that everyone called the “Painter”. Not because you murdered people or stole kruge, no. It wasn't even because of the fact that you decided to spray your art without permission.

It wasn't really the art that concerned other people (most of the time), but rather where you decided to put it up.

Plain old alley walls weren't the only victims of your spray bottles. Your style ended up on the main doorways of well-known brothels like the Menagerie, or the ground leading to the secret bases of different gangs. It made you a target not only of officers, but of other criminals as well. You may or may not have been the cause of the Dime Lions losing one of their main strongholds to a rival gang because you put skipping stones of Pekka Rollins' name leading to it.

You were flattered by the attention people were putting on you, but you felt unsatisfied. You had tried to put at least a little bit of your art on every visible wall of the West Stave and some of the East Stave as well, but there was something missing. Like there was one part of the Ketterdam map that hasn't been colored by you.

You got the answer to your problem one mundane day, while you were coming back from the market with a bag of groceries.

The Slat.

You had no idea why it hadn't hit you sooner. Sure, the Slat was the home of the Crows besides their bar "The Crow Club." Sure, the gang had been gaining a dangerous reputation this past year. Sure, the man calling the shots was scary as hell.

But it was just perfect.

You had long admired the Crows and their leader Kaz Brekker. You had spotted him going about business during late nights when you decided to test your skills by evading the Wraith that always pursued him (you hadn't been attacked by her, so you assumed that you were really good at sneaking around).

He was a man of business, a boss that liked getting his hands dirty — maybe that was how he got his nickname Dirtyhands. You don't see much of that in Ketterdam, and that interested you quite a bit.

Not to mention he was attractive in his own, ghostly way.

The Slate was also one of the very few canvases that you had left blank in this wretched city due to some unknown and unconscious reason, but now you had just the perfect artwork in mind for it.

—————

Kaz was in a bad mood today.

He woke up to his leg in pain. Well, it was always in pain, but it felt particularly worse that day. He almost face-planted while hobbling down the stairs in the Slat.

He had a small heist, with just him, Jesper, and Inej, but it was still messed up due to the unexpected appearance of a drunk group in the house they were robbing.

He got jumped on by some stupid pickpockets, idiots who were unaware of his identity and his reputation. He didn’t obtain any injury, but the blood that still stained his black gloves and his long black coat made him feel disgusting.

Just when he thought that he would find peace in the Slat, peace in just holing up in his office with no one to bother him, he limps down the streets of West Stave to the home of the Dregs to find a small crowd gathered on the side, murmuring to each other.

They were all members of the Crows, and they were all looking at something that was on the wall of the Slat.

His already creased brows creased further at the sight of the gathering. What were these idiots looking at this time?

Jesper was the first one who first saw him, eyes drifting over his blood-splattered clothes in slight concern.

“What’s going on?” Kaz asked, not giving Jesper the opportunity to worry over him.

“It seems that the Painter finally set their eyes on the Slat,” Jesper replied, his voice containing its usual mischief and mirth.

Kaz forged onwards, making the sharpshooter step aside to make way for Dirtyhands.

The small crowd parted for him as well, conversations dying down to small murmurs as Kaz got a better look at what they were ogling at.

He had to blink to make sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing.

When “the Painter” left Jesper’s mouth, Kaz wanted to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. The days when infamous the Painter set sights on establishments or gang bases were the days when gangs or businessmen would get publicly humiliated by the art on their walls. Normally, it would ridicule the head of the place (The Menagerie spent a significant amount of money to wash off and paint over the caricature of Tante Heleen in a horrid neon green outfit) or reveal some interesting gang secrets (two gangs were exposed to be stealing from each other and there was a little war between them).

Which was why Kaz had to blink twice to make sure he was seeing it right.

The artwork on the side of the Slat was a large mural of the Dregs’ signature crow perched on the lip of a cup, but a trail of black roses swirled around it in a spiral. Surrounding it was the Crows’ motto “no mourners, no funerals” in black and white. The irregular red and white shape behind it all emphasized everything, making it look like a banner rather than something someone actually took the time to spray on a wall.

It was unlike any artwork that was spotted anywhere in the city.

And even Kaz, who’s never had any particular interest in art, had to admit that it was nice. Flattering.

Beautiful, even.

"The Painter has their favorites, huh?" A Crow chuckled, making his mates laugh and shake their heads.

"If everyone's done having a staring contest with the wall," Kaz called, making everyone turn to their boss, "get back to work."

And just like that, they lost their interest in the artwork and dispersed. Some drifted away to different alleys to visit some gambling house, most passed by Kaz to finish some unfinished business of theirs, and others went back inside the Slat.

Kaz felt a familiar presence beside him. "Can you find this Painter, Inej?"

The Wraith that appeared out of nowhere replied, "I can try, but they're slippery."

Kaz rose an eyebrow, curiosity piquing. Someone who can evade his best spider? Now that caught his attention.

"Do it. Bring them to me," Kaz said, dismissing her with a wave. He didn't have to look to know that Inej had dissolved into the shadows.

He examined the mural once more, the barest ghost of a smirk on his face. Maybe you can come around to work for me, "Painter".

—————

You were having a good time.

If running away from some angry traders was something people would consider a good time.

"I'll kill you!" One of the men chasing you bellowed, hurling a stone that hit a wooden pillar dangerously close to your head.

You laughed, a manic cackle that only came from someone facing a certain death.

You leaped over crates, weaved through people with barely any gracefulness that would have made dancers feel second-hand embarrassment, but you didn’t care. Being chased around West Stave was one of the best things to do in Ketterdam, and you were enjoying every single bit of it.

You turned left into a random alley, only to find that it was a dead end. You looked upwards, but found only ladders that led to heavily-barred windows. You were trapped.

"Nowhere left to run, scum," A man laughed, his companion grinning as well.

You turned to flash them a charming smile. "Actually there is one way, but you're blocking it, so if you'd kindly move aside so I can peacefully make my leave."

They both looked at each other before turning back to you. "Not until we've got our money."

You pretended to think for a moment, not knowing what they mean, until you widened your eyes. "Oh! The money! That's what you were after? Why didn't you just say so?"

You rummaged through your deep pockets. "Here it is!"

You took a few quick steps forward and took out a spray can, squeezing it and drifting it over the closest man's eyes, creating a thick yellow line across his face.

The man yelled and stepped back in surprise, prompting you to catch his heel in yours and pull, making him fall.

You bent down to punch him twice before rummaging in his pockets, taking out a few loose coins and pocketing them.

You turned to face the other guy, who you found already on the ground with a figure standing above him.

The Wraith.

"Oh." Your gaze alternated between the sudden assistance and the man on the ground, before you decided to focus on the one standing and smiling at them. "Thanks for your help, Miss Wraith. Now, if you don't mind, I'll take my leave —"

You turned, only for Inej to block your exit, making you sigh. "What is it that you want from me this time?"

"For you to come with me to the Slat," Inej responded, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the alley.

You sighed again. This was going to be a long day.

—————

"Look, if this about money, I don't have any. I'm very broke." You stared at the man sitting in front of you, a desk separating him from your standing figure.

The Bastard of the Barrel didn't respond to your statement, opting to just look at you, his eyes examining your movements.

You let the silence drain on for a few more seconds before you lost patience. "What do you want?" You asked, frustrated.

"You're the Painter," He responded, putting his elbows on his table and lacing his gloved fingers together.

You waited for a moment, waiting for him to say more. When he didn't continue, you replied. "Yes."

"Everyone in Ketterdam is aware of your reputation to leaking powerful people's information," Kaz finally continued. "But that's not what's interesting. What intrigues me, is how you acquire the information in the first place, when the Wraith has never spotted you out in the open other than spraying on some random wall."

You shrugged. You had your ways, and if the Dirtyhands didn't know your methods, then there was no way you could reveal them. "I have my ways."

Kaz rose an eyebrow. "I can have you killed right here and now, did you know that?"

"And I’ve gotten out of these chains three minutes ago, did you know that?" You mocked him, shrugging the cuffs off and tossing them on his table. Inej moved, pulling out a dagger. Kaz put up his hand, and Inej paused, waiting.

You approached the desk, putting your hands on it and leaning forward, leaving half a feet of space in between your face and Kaz's.

"You want to know my methods so you can have the Wraith master them and use them," you said, leaning a bit more. "But then she can't. No one in this place can do what I can."

"I suppose there's an underlying deal somewhere in those words," Kaz hummed, seemingly unfazed by the distance.

You grinned. "Indeed there is. I can work for you, as long as I get paid. I'll do my thing, get your information, even infiltrate a few places if you like."

"Hmm," Kaz thought about it for a moment. "Two thousand kruge for each mission."

You paused. That would be enough to buy your food and pay your rent for a week or two, maybe even enough for some new clothes.

Yeah, you didn't have that good or luxurious of a lifestyle, but hey, money is money.

"Alright," You decided, sticking your hand out to seal the deal.

Kaz stared at your hand for a moment, before taking it. You pulled him up from his chair, face now barely away from yours. "If you think about double-crossing me and leaving me out in the cold, then you risk some of your own information being revealed... Rietveld." Your voice was barely louder than a breath, words only for Kaz’s ear.

His eyes widened, looking at you. Just the mere mention of his old last name, the one he shared with his brother, was enough for the water at his ankles to pool around his knees.

But you had already pulled away, brushing against the Wraith with a nod as you left the office without another word.

"What was that?" Inej asked — more like demanded.

Kaz didn't spare her a glance, his eyes glued to the door. It took him a long pause to reply.

"The start of another painful alliance," Kaz muttered, running his hand through his hair.

The start of something indeed.

#six of crows #six of crows x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #grishaverse #soc #soc x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader

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golvio · 3 months

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Quietly obsessing over the fact that, based on how you can get to The Fury in the base game, Voice of the Stubborn will be the common denominator of the two possible starting routes, but also that his role in Fury might change depending on whether he’s the second or third Voice you meet.

I don’t remember exactly which interview I heard the devs say this, but I remember them saying that the second Voice you met was usually less helpful in the Chapter II they appear in, but the third Voice who appears in Chapter III is more helpful in that their advice guides you towards a conclusive ending to the relationship/story you’ve built with the Princess in that particular loop. But I don’t remember there ever being a route where you can get the exact same Voice from two different circumstances (unless Voice of the Paranoid can show up in The Wraith from Spectre’s direction, in which case I’m being a dum-dum).

In Adversary > Fury, Stubborn’s a perfect mirror of Adversary in that he’s accepted his role in the story as Her Eternal Enemy and enjoys it so much that he doesn’t question it. Contrarian being introduced serves as a potential destabilizing, deconstructive influence who might encourage him and Fury to start questioning their respective places in the narrative. Meanwhile, Tower > Fury has him introduced as the third voice in a manner that seems similar to his appearance in Den, where he sees himself as protecting us from a bully by encouraging us to stand up for ourself and fight back instead of meekly accepting our role as prey. But he also has no prior relationship with Fury and therefore no time to get comfortable in his role as Enemy, nor has Tower-Fury ever encountered an aspect of us with quite as willful and unrelenting as Stubborn.

Still, I don’t think it’s going to be just like Den where Stubborn is only helpful in the ending where you try to slay the Princess in revenge. I think there’s a reason why he’s in both versions of the route, even if it feels like Fury’s going to be a radically different character based on which route you approach her from, much like the Greys. I think, like the Greys, there’s a common theme to her route that makes both versions converging on the same role make sense despite the two versions of her being completely different characters. Fury’s route has this theme of literal and figurative deconstruction as both versions of her are denied what each sees as their purpose, throwing the cycle of violence/domination between us off its axis though not breaking it entirely, and then this possible theme of exploration/self-exploration as she takes us apart to try to figure out what that means. For whatever reason, Stubborn needs to be there, regardless of whether he’s initially helpful or not. And the updated Fury route will have the most new dialogue, sprites, and music out of all the upcoming new content for The Pristine Cut, if not all the base game routes in general. I find that extremely suspicious. There is something more the devs want to say with Fury, and, again, Stubborn has to be there for it.

Not to mention that, even though he was born to fight and perfectly happy with the idea of fighting Adversary forever, the only other time we’ve ever seen him truly at peace was The Wild, where he lays down his arms and willingly wants to be one with her. And then this route is another one that involves the Princess going inside of us in a very bizarrely intimate way. On top of that, the Tower being a very surprising route for me because she only ever seemed truly interested in the Long Quiet beyond allowing him to be “a priest or a pet” was when he was resisting her and trying to fight back, whether in Tower (before he actually makes her bleed and everything goes wrong) or in Apotheosis, where she seemed genuinely curious about what he was going to do if he tried to stop her.

Like…the update announcement said there was going to be a “new ending.” Is it going to be a character-specific ending like Stranger, where her route left such a massive loose end that she needed to have her own ending to give her and Contrarian’s story closure? Are we going to get that but with Fury and Stubborn? I mean, we can’t have a story about the breaking of cycles that possibly involves poor Stubborn having his own existential crisis and then leave both him and Fury hanging, can we?

#slay the princess #slay the princess spoiilers #stp spoiilers #the fury #voice of the stubborn #the tower #the adversary #the wild #long post

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fungus-no69 · 2 months

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hope lovecraft is rolling in his grave as I write this. I hope more people write about eldritch horrors being gay and shit. lovecraftian gay sex… (i do not write smut)

Context: it is a beautiful day in rapechestershire and you are a horrible monstrosity

Content: Body horror I guess, reader is a little petty (deserved), dol typical bullying, brief and non graphic gore in Kylar’s, mentioned animal death in Remy’s (you are Eating The Cows), some spoilers for Ivory Wraith’s lore

Remembering to oxidise your body is a burden, making your heart beat is a chore, remembering to move the rest of your vessel with your expressions is tiring. What do animals even need these rigid pieces of flesh for?

…though you quickly realised the value of muscles when your meat began to droop around your faux bones which is something you’re fairly certain does not happen to mortals.

Of course, you can’t maintain a full rest while above water in this fashion. You’ve come to learn that humans do not particularly enjoy a mass of greasy limbs, mottled flesh and gunky mucus spread on the floor. 'Sleeping' is nice though, as limited as your opportunities are. Humans are fickle creatures and that also applies to their sleeping habits.

Nonetheless. You need to practise your human-form-making skills. And what better way to learn about appearing more human than to attend the industry of learning itself?

Whitney:

Why this blonde mortal took an interest in you? You're not sure.

One day they were there and they never left

They’re always poking at your vessel. Rude…

Thanks to them and their lackeys you had to learn how to fake falling over when punched because apparently it’s strange to just stand there and take a hit without flinching.

They know somethings wrong with you but they can’t put their finger on it, this leads to even more bullying

Most of their harassment is about how you look and act apart from the straight up sexual assault.

They once saw you slip up on your transformation because it was a particularly irritating day and you briefly reintroduced your habit of scaring off others by posturing.

Not your finest moment, I say. They passed out because your mutilated structure was too much for their poor human mind to handle.

Thankfully you can help them forget the incident or write it off as some weird drug induced hallucination. (by distracting them with something inconvenient when they wake up. Like an ice cube in their mouth. Or a cut to their gums.)

You can’t let something like that happen again

Sydney:

You don't know why they're looking at you weirdly. You have the correct amount of teeth this time. You checked.

They help you out when people ask you stupid questions like 'are you a ventriloquist?' 'how can you bend that far?' and 'hey where'd your elbows go?'

It’s always awkward to dismiss yourself during those encounters, considering your ‘schoolmates’ don’t tend to let things go and are rather fixated on following their more malicious instincts towards you than letting you leave. So Sydney’s help is appreciated.

You leave little gifts for them in the library. A book you found in the lake and dried, the foot of a rabbit (humans find that lucky right?), little shiny objects you discover while walking around.

You’re far from weak or incapable but Sydney’s interventions make keeping up the act more bearable.

Over time they find that they become enamoured with you and that’s terrifying to them. One, because they’ve never felt like this before and two, Jordan seems to disapprove of you in some way? They don’t explain why but they warn Sydney about you. Which raises some issues which you don't completely understand for all of your infinite (old) wisdom.

As they become more corrupted, they get a bit more pushy with their ‘subtle’ questions about you- thankfully they never nag for too long.

You fear that Sydney, loyal and kind Sydney, will leave you when they find your true nature. That they will find you repulsive like many before them.

Thus, you will hide your true nature from them. No matter how often they ask or the fact that they know something is off- you can never let them confirm those suspicions.

Kylar:

You see the way the shadows loom over this mortal- they are more connected to the other worlds than they realise.

This draws you to them in a way, having someone who is more connected to your home than everyone around you. And them to you, though you suspect this may have happened regardless of your identity.

Kylar is another anomaly in a sea of others who look different but are fundamentally indiscernible. If you were to cut open a human and pry open their ribcage, you would find the same thing in each one. But not yours. And perhaps not Kylar’s.

They seem to feel a strange compulsion to protect you. You’ve seen this type of behaviour with Sydney and maybe Whitney to an extent, but never to the intensity that a knife was procured.

You understand that the utensil is sharp but you're a little bit confused to why the students run away when they see it? Stabbing someone requires strength and you're fairly certain Kylar is not very strong.

Surprisingly, they were the first one to ask about why you speak the way you do. When asked what they meant they told you that you speak in a very formal manner. Your expression must have made a change in some way because they quickly apologise profusely for offending you. It doesn't.

If you sulk about it a little then that's nobody's business other than your own.

Harper:

You get sent to the asylum for your silly behaviour (crimes and general strangeness that does not pass for mentally healthy) and Harper tries to gaslight you "there are no tentacles they aren't real" explain this.

You don’t have a firm grasp on human behaviour yet, especially when it comes to being polite but c'mon. Even you know this guy is a weirdo.

They will inevitably learn about your true nature regardless of how hard you conceal it.

Hypnotism doesn’t work on you, your blood is too dark and thin to resemble a human’s, sometimes you forget to make your heart beat etc.

They’re not as freaked out as you thought they’d be but they do want to run some tests on you

You say no thank you because even if it’s just for ‘personal research’ you don’t want your inhumanity on record (and Harper’s a creep)

They attempt to blackmail you in a sense but you stand strong on your opinion. Who would they tell and even then, who would believe them? And then there’s the fact that there is no human nor invention that can contain or incapacitate you.

You may meet them on your vacation to Remy’s farm, they’re initially confused to see you there but just as easily accept it. As much as they want to understand you- you’re not exactly human, so they don’t expect you to act by the rules of humans.

It would almost be nice if they didn’t finish their little spiel by dragging you to a stage. Stares make your epidermis feel like there’s little bugs underneath it and you feel the urge to peel it off to escape the unpleasant sensation. You don’t, because that would reveal you.

You end your holiday by trashing their office.

Remy:

You originally came across their farm because you were hungry. Remy, of course, noticed the dwindling population of their cows and went to investigate. Lo and behold- they found you.

They don’t know for sure if you’re involved in the missing cows but they suspect you’ve stolen them or something. Not that you ate them.

You allow yourself to be captured, you could annihilate these puny humans if you wanted to but something tells you this place will grant you rest and food.

The fact they stole your clothes was mildly irritating but you can easily get some when you return 'home'. What do humans call it? The five finger discount? You're not sure what having five fingers has to do with saving currency but you appreciate it regardless.

You don’t develop transformations. You lack the biology to do so, but seeing other cattle develop their features tips you off to the fact you’re supposed to be gaining ears and such so you try to replicate them…

The farmhand who opens your stable in the morning almost shits their pants

You don’t try again after that.

Remy is wondering why their cattle are STILL disappearing.

Ivory Wraith:

They are much similar to yourself, tethered to this mortal realm through an object. Though their emotions are a bit more… uncontrollable than yours.

But perhaps that came with being human. Formerly, you suppose. Not that you would know what it’s like to be human.

They know your existence is eternal, will last for much longer than their own given their own circumstances.

Inevitably, they belong to this world and you do not.

Nonetheless you understand each other to a point, with both of you being non human and somewhat incorporeal.

They vaguely recognise you from long ago, a painting or two within the temple depicting a monster. They had never really examined it, being too unsettled to do so.

They also remember that during the schism, they felt the presence of something much larger than themself. They suspect it may be you, though they’re not certain.

No matter, you're here now.

…

It is the first time you have felt desire for something other than rest in centuries.

You have never been one to want. You do not experience emotion as deeply as mortals (or former mortals) do, somehow simultaneously deeper but so shallowly. You do not feel affection, and even if you have, it has surely been so long since then that you have forgotten. And yet…

You think this strange feeling in your fleshy midsection is the closest to love you can get.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

the girl next door 9

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You don’t go straight home. You don’t want to upset your mom. So, you wander the suburbs, walking around cul-de-sacs, some you’ve never been down, and circling around the avenues. You pass mothers and fathers with strollers and children running and yelling on green lawns. It’s as if you’re walking through a utopia, floating by like a cursed wraith.

You glance down at the book in your hand. Maybe you should try some lighter reading. Your mind tends to go to dark places.

When at last you let yourself go back to the house, you do so cautiously. You don’t see Steve or your mom. As you come to the front door, you wonder if you should knock. You quietly let yourself in, gently closing the door as you stand on the mat. You leave your shoes on the low rack and tiptoe down the hall. Your mom can’t be mad if she doesn’t know you’re there.

“Hey, kiddo,” Steve’s voice as you tripping over your own feet. You turn to the archway as you pass and peer in. Your mother’s in her recliner, her eyes closed. Is she sleeping? You watch her warily. “How was your walk?”

“Um,” you blink and shrug, “fine.”

He stands by the window, his hand on the wall beside it. Did he see you come up? You hadn’t noticed him behind the curtain.

“Breakfast for you in the oven. Won’t be very warm but if it’s no good, I can start a new batch,” he offers.

“Don’t bother with all that,” your mother grumbles and shifts in her chair, groaning as she shakily rubs her cheek. Her eyes open only slightly. “She can warm ‘em up.”

“Always better fresh,” Steve stands straight and faces you fully.

“Thanks.”

You leave them with the single word. You feel like an intruder. You stop by your bedroom and hover in indecision. You just want to hide but you would hate to be rude. Steve went to all that trouble and you know, even as your mother says he’s already done too much, she’d be even more upset if you wasted his effort.

You put your book on the foot of your bed and go down to the kitchen. You take out the pancakes, content enough to have them cold. There’s a bottle of real maple syrup. Steve must’ve supplied that; you can’t afford the pure stuff. You don’t use very much, mindful of the expense of the sugary nectar.

You grab cutlery and bring the plate to the table. You sit alone. You can hear the hum of the ceiling fan from the front room and the dulcet song of birds floating in through the windows. Steve’s low tone rolls through the din but you can’t make out his words. You mother answers his with short mutters. She’s not having a very good day. You're surprised he stayed this long.

The pancakes are good, even at room temperature. They’re fluffy and taste richer than the frozen ones you get a bargain on. Is that blueberry too? With each bite, your hunger clenches your stomach tighter, mulching down the food greedily. When you finish, your body growls and aches.

You wash off your plate and put it in the tray. The lull of the house thickens as you pad down to your room. You slow as you near the door frame. Had you closed it? You can’t recall.

You turn into the room and let out a noise of surprise. Steve looks over as he stands over the folding table, his hand on your sketchbook, a page half-turned. Your heart drops as you clasp your hands together.

“Sorry, er, didn’t mean to...” he rescinds his hand and lets the page flutter down, “It was open and...” you don’t know whether he means the door or the book. “You’re really talented.”

Your forehead crinkles and you charge towards him. You step around him and shut the book, swiping it up. He leans back on his heel.

“I didn’t... I wasn’t trying to...” he sputters, “I just wanted to pass something by you.”

You hug your sketchbook at you face him. You stare at this chest. You feel violated. Not just that he’s in your space but he touched your stuff. The one thing that’s really yours; your drawings.

“Me and your mom were talking, you know, and she said it would be good for you to get out, maybe make some extra money,” he explains, “and I’ll be around so you won’t need to worry about her so much.”

You frown. You and your mother have had this talk a billion times. Get off your ass and get a job. It’s not like you haven’t tried.

“So, I got some work you can do. Like I said, I gotta get that pool open,” he continues, “and there’s little things around the house. You got a good hand so maybe some painting here and there.”

You push your shoulders up. You don’t think you can say no, especially if he’s already said as much to your mom. You half-suspect this is her doing.

“Complementary milkshakes?” He offers breezily.

You’re quiet. You have no choice. You know as much.

“You know,” he softens his tone, “if I’m gonna... hang around with your mom, we should get to know each other. It’s a good opportunity for us.”

“Fine,” you answer.

“Fine? So that’s a yes?” He asks.

You close your eyes and flick them open, “yes.”

“Great. Well, when can you start? How about tomorrow? Supposed to be another sunny day.”

“Okay,” you agree, “tomorrow.”

He doesn’t move. You want him to leave. The conversation is over. He got what he wants and your mom too. He’ll pay you dimes to clean the pool and your mom will reap the profit.

“You know, I draw a little too,” he points to your sketchbook, “maybe if we have time tomorrow, I can show you.”

“Maybe,” you mutter.

“Ah, uh,” he chuckles bashfully and rubs his neck, “right, I'm in your way. Well, er, I’ll leave ya be.” He turns and struts to the door. He stops just inside the frame and looks back, “oh, how were the pancakes?”

You take a breath and stay staring at the wall, “good.”

“Great, did you have some of the syrup? It’s Canadian.”

“Yeah,” you turn and tuck your sketchbook into your dresser draw. “Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetie,” he taps the wall and the door closes with a click.

You sit on your bed and hunch over to hold your head. It’s still heavy from the night before and now you’re even more tired than before. You don’t know if it’s from being out in the sun or all the walking you did, but your eyelids feel dry and seem to cling with each blink. You yawn and bring your legs up, curling your body up near the edge of the bed.

You know you shouldn’t sleep in the middle of the day, but you just can’t help yourself.

🏠

You wake up in the haze of the late afternoon. Your eyes hurt and your limbs are achy. You lay on your back as the curtains stir with the lazy breeze. You look over to find them open but you don’t remember pulling them apart. You barely remember anything past your awkward morning stroll.

It takes you a while to push through the stiffness. You never sleep on your back; it leaves it racked and your ribcage hurts. As you stand, you notice the door. It’s slightly open.

You get up and go to it, pull it inch by inch. The house is quiet but for a soft rumble, rhythmic and rocky. You putter down the hall and look into the front room. Your mom’s asleep in her chair. She’s almost peaceful as she snores in the recliner.

The scene strikes you as odd, almost dreamlike. Your mom’s never been much of a napper. In fact, she always nagged you about the habit. You think of waking her but think better of it. She won’t be happy to be awoken, even if she might be irritated later to know she slept away the day.

Steve is gone. You search each room to be sure then go to the kitchen. It’s clean and everything is put away, even the dishes you left in the tray. The large bottle of syrup is gone as well.

You mutter and go back to your room. Another soft wind drifts in. You stumble over to your bed and fall back onto it. You yawn again. Gosh, you’re so tired.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #captain america #marvel #mcu

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northern-passage · 2 months

Text

some of you may have seen over on my kithj blog but i'm currently in the process of editing/rewriting the current chapters of tnp (mainly the prologue & ch1) i'm only on the prologue right now but making steady progress. i'm getting to a lot of edits i've been putting off (like the wraith fight) and updating/revising some of the lore and worldbuilding. i'm hopeful this will improve what's already there and also motivate me to keep going and finally get back in the saddle completely.

i've made the decision to cut out certain choices, the biggest ones being that you can no longer turn Clementine away on the road (it was always a bit of an empty choice and just resulted in the player losing interactions with a main character who is ultimately unavoidable) as well as genderlocking the sibling. congrats, you now have a little sister!

otherwise the only other major changes i'm planning on at the moment is the aforementioned wraith fight, though i don't imagine the fight itself changing too much, mainly the structure and choices, and then i also plan to rewrite Noel's route in ch1. Noel's route has been something that has bothered me since the start, and i'm going to essentially swap xir path in ch1-- rather than going to the isolation district (which ultimately doesn't do much, since you go with him either way the following day in ch2) you'll be going along with him on his house calls. there are a lot of other minor things i'll be editing as well, but those are the only big content changes i'm looking at currently.

the wraith fight will probably take some time, and i want to update with both chapter overhauls completed, so don't expect that any time soon, but i figured i'd share what i'm up to at the moment :-) thank you as always for your patience and support!

#i dont plan on doing much editing in ch2 because i dont think it needs it tbh #maybe just some continuity stuff here and there #mosty what im rewriting is the dialogue....#and just trying to make it all flow more naturally. my writing has changed a lot since i started tnp #so i just want to give her a facelift. lmfao #and ive been wanting to edit my overwriting in ch1 for a while but again just havent gotten around to it #i kept putting it off bc i wanted to wait until i was farther along in the story but.... since that's stalled at this point #might as well edit!

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scorpioriesling · 27 days

Note

Heyy, I just saw your Prompt Request Masterlist. As I scrolled down there I haven't seen one with Cassian yet.

I wondered if you'd like to write a Cassian X reader with 35 + 37 + 41 ? Pretty please?💕💕

Thank you so much for all the lovely content, can't wait to read more from you✨

Sing To Me

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing: Cassian x Siren!Reader

Warning(s): mentions of blood / war

Summary: Your escape turns out to be more than you ever could've imagined. Leaving behind your old habitat didn't necissarily mean leaving old habits; what will happen when you put them to the test in order to save a gorgeous bat-in-need?

SR's Note: I'm so excited for this ask -- and you have to follow my tangent here, alright. I know this concept is a little funky maybe, but I hope you enjoy it and how it ends! I had a blast writing it for you. This uses prompts #35, #37, and #41 from my masterlist! xoxo Tags: @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Love was never easy. You knew that, in your long life of 478 years. You'd come to accept that over time, you may never fully experience life the way you'd dreamed you would -- you were destined, doomed to the worst fate in Prythian. A fate not many would ever understand.

Until you'd met him.

Another bitterly cold day under the water in the bog, the near pitch-blackness of it impossible to see through to the naked fae eye.

Good thing you weren't fae.

The other sirens swam about, but the heat of their bodies didn't provide any comfort as chatter of the looming war chilled your blood to the core. The others spoke as though this was a mere form of entertainment -- but not you. You found it hard to relate to others of your kind, ever longing to look like the beautiful mermaids and water wraiths that dwelled in the glittering waters of the courts. But, you were bound to this bottomless, dirty, dark pit for eternity.

When the war had finally begun, you knew it was a chance to escape. This, you decided, would be your way out.

You'd followed the stream, tail whipping violently through the murky waters for what felt like days on end. You didn't stop, even if it meant taking a slower pace at times. You left your belongings, only sparing the necessary healing items you may need.

If you were swimming into battle, you'd surely find those in handy.

After ages upon ages, the water began to thin, the dark, muddiness of it fading away as chrystalline waters beckoned for promise ahead. Even halfway between the dank water and the clear blue of the ocean, you'd found it hard to adjust your eyes to the blinding light from above. You were more adapted to the cloudy skies of the bog whenever you felt corageous enough to break the surface of your home lagoon, but this... this was so clear and vast that it took effort to adjust to the change.

When all of the filth had subsided, you noticed a few dark tendrils floating alongside you. They shone beautifully in the light, the sun reflecting upon them, framing each hilight and contour. Your hair. It was beautiful, the muck washing away with each movement of your head.

Gods, it'd been ages since you'd seen a mirror. The broken glass you'd kept didn't work too well in those murky waters.

Looking down, you decided you were quite alluring. The black pearls that stretched over your shoulders, covering most of your breasts only accentuated your moon-white skin. The feathery, ink-black tail that powerfully bobbed behind you... you understood now, why sirens were the ones that could call to any male and get an answer, not mermaids.

The water was glinting with sunlight, but as you kept swimming, you noticed odd shapes floating within. First, a trunk floated by. Then, a few red fruits bobbed along as you continued on your way, gripping your black fishnet bag tightly.

You finally understood the reasoning for the odd objects as you continued your trek.

Pieces of splintered wood cascaded around you, one piece pricking your finger when you reached out to grasp it. Ouch. But more than that, the water was rather... disturbed, ahead. Splashing from the surface indicated as much, and with every stride closer, you could hear roaring, voices, screams-

Splash!

All of a sudden, an anchor was being lowered just in front of you. The heavy iron had your eyes wide as it sank to the ocean floor, and peering up at the surface, you saw more than just the sunlight casting glow after glow throughout the water.

More items began breaking the surface, sinking heavily all around you. First, a bed. Then, random broken bits of china that looked as sharp as the wood. No touching.

A body.

Two.

Blood everywhere.

Your pupils dilated, the scent of blood filling your nose as male after male drifted along, blood pouring from them in delicious crimson waves. The sight was mouth-watering, the lurch in your stomach almost too much as you realize you hadn't feasted in days-

No. That wasn't why you'd come. You came to help, to change your ways -- eating those you'd hoped would accept you wouldn't do you any good. Though they were already dead...

You violently shook your head, longing to clear your mind from the insatiable, hungry, ravenous plaguing thoughts. Loud echoing sounded from above, almost lous enough to hurt your ears. You winced, drawing closer and closer to the surface.

Sploosh!

You rear back, your hands flailing wildly to avoid the sinking ship before you. The flags pulled in water with their wake, threatening to tangle you up and drown you had you not swam away. The wood of the ship's architecture cracked, sinking under it's own weight slowly. You would make out the gold lettering on the side as it fell.

ES.

Hmm.

You swam above it, watching as the Nesta fell slowly, the large explosions above the water pinching your eardrums. You closed your eyes hard, bracing for the shock, waiting to break the surface-

Your eyes flew wide as you gasped for air, your lungs filling with smoke. The scent, the air, all of it; you choked, couching and wheezing as you treaded to keep upright. When you finally cleared your lungs, you looked around, really looked. So many ships, so many warriors on them, so many-

Bang!

Another explosion sent a ship up in flames, and you crossed your arms before your face to sheild from the blinding light. Screams all around, so much pain...

"Cassian!"

You heard the screaming before you saw him. A bird, a bat -- he fell from the sky, large wings crumpling and broken as he headed for the water. You knew this was it. You had to go, you had to go now.

You couldn't swim fast enough and watched as his body cascaded into the water before you. Too far. He was too far. You swam faster, coming to the surface to look for him. Surely, he'd fallen near here? You couldn't miss an enormous pair of wings, but... no matter where you looked, you only saw broken bodies and shattered wood. No him, anywhere.

You dorve underneath the surface once more to continue swimming, but that's when you spotted it -- those mangled, shredded wings drifting delicately in the water. You frantically swam to him, reaching to grab him, help him, but he fell out of reach.

He was sinking.

There was no way you'd get him back to his ship, you couldn't even leave the water; and he was too heavy.

You wrapped your arms beneath his shoulders, wrapping tight before kicking your tail with all your might in an attempt to bring you both back to the surface. It worked, a little. You slowly made your way up, his wings as fragile as a jellyfish tentacles. You made sure not to touch them.

When you finally broke the surface once more, you gasped, hauling him over a flat piece of wood and turning his face to yours. Gods, he was glorious. Your hand searched for his heart, a pulse to reassure you he wasn't dead -- you found nothing.

Panic set in, and you racked your brain for what to do in a situation like this one. You weren't used to healing or helping the fae -- usually, you would simply lure them in and have them for dinner.

Healing. That's what you needed to do.

A tidal wave almost pushed him off the wood, but you clung to him in an attempt to keep him grounded upon it. Thinking quickly, you shoved the mass, steady enough to keep him afloat but quickly to avoid being seen, avoid any more destruction. Land, you'd thought. He needed a stable place to rest, for you to work -- the shoreline.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Cauldron damned, you better be worth saving."

You grumbled as you hauled him ashore, as far out of the water that you could reach without completely exiting it. It took massive, exhausting effort to get him here, but the deserted coast would be perfect for your attempt to revive him.

You slung your bag off your shoulder, the action slashing wet sand onto his cheek. You grimaced, reaching out to brush the wet sediment off. Your fingers lingered only for a moment as you stared, his handsomely carved features stunning you.

Heal him.

Right.

As you began digging in your bag, a strangled cough sounded beside you. Your eyes fixated on him as his chest heaved, a more sound cough echoing in his throat. He kept going, coughing, gasping, reaching for air-

Then he slowly opened his eyes. The milky chocolate brown orbs roamed wildly, first taking in the sky, then double-taking when he saw you.

"H....Holy SHIT!" He shouted, frantically pushing up onto his elbows and staggering backward. You flinched, a little afraid something like this would happen. His chest heaved wildly, his wings attempting to flare but only resulting in a pained groan and a hand on his ribs.

"It... it isn't good to move around in your condition," You offer, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes tracked the movement, growing wider and wider at the touch.

"What are you... who are you?" He asks, his hand still bracing his side.

"I'm... here to help you," you say, and his face contorts in pain.

"What?"

"Lie back down." You say, pushing lightly on his shoulder. To your surprise, he doesn't argue, but simply lies on his back, groaning with the movement. You move close again, leaning over him to get a good look.

"I... I think I can help, with your wings," you say. His nostrils flare as pain crashes through him again and again.

"Why." He asks lowly. Your brows knit.

"Why... why what?" You ask, reaching for the seaweed salve you'd brought. You extemd a hand to apply it, and he jerks backward, his steely glare holding yours.

"Why are you helping me." He grits out. "Why are you?"

"Y/N, is my name." You say, and he looks you up and down, at the tail curling into the water behind you.

"And you're... a, what? Healer? Mermaid?" He quizzes.

You sigh heavily. "Something like that."

He sits straighter, his gaze softening only slightly. "How do I know you're not working for Hybern?"

You knit your brows again. "High Who?"

He reads your expression, the corner of his lips tilting upwards. "Nevermind," he says, scootching closer. "You said, you have something to make it," he winces in pain again. "Better?"

You nod, showing him your balm. "Yes I do," you say. He sighs, contemplating his choice. Finally, shaking his head, he extends his wing to you slightly.

You press your fingers to his wing, near the tip of it and run them along the spine gently. Turns out, his wings are not feathery -- they're quite leathery. Strong.

He groans in pain again, and you gulp as you scoot closer, your hip touching his in the sand.

"What is your name?" You ask politely. He glances to you, and you suck in a breath. Gorgeous.

"Cassian," he answers, and you trail your fingers lower, brushing the weeds closer to the base of his wings. He continues to flinch in pain, and you try your best to distract him.

"From?"

"The Night Court." You nod solemnly.

"I've heard of it. The Cursebreaker; the High Lady, she dwells there." He nods, chuckling a bit.

"She sure does."

It's quiet for only a moment as you reach for the wing on the other side, not quite finding it with your fingers.

"And you?" He asks. His eyes meet yours, and you realize how close you'd become to his lips. So... decadent, practically begging to be chewed-

"Where do you dwell?" He asks. You shake your head lightly, repositioning to sit on his leg to better reach the other wing.

"I'm from... a few places." You settle on, and he shakes his head slowly.

"So mysterious. A pretty, dark-tailed lady comes to my rescue, and won't even tell me where she's from?" You blush, his kind words to foreign to your ears. He thought you were pretty.

"Well.. uh, why thank you." You blubber. He chuckles, his straight white teeth gleaming in the setting sun. Your pupils begin to dilate.

"What would help you relax?" You ask, adjusting your position but only slipping right onto his lap. His large hands grasp your exposed waist, steadying you but not your racing heart. And... mind.

"Well, my best friend's mother used to sing to me when I was young and in need of comfort," he suggests. "Always calmed me down."

Sing. Gods, this was going horribly.

"I... can't sing." You lied. His hands held firm as you continued to work the balm across his wing, and you couldn't help but feel flustered.

"Oh, neither could Rhys' mom," he huffed a laugh. "I promise I won't judge, even if it really is bad," he shrugs, his deep eyes peering into yours.

You gulped. Maybe, if you sang with no ill-intent, you wouldn't seduce him? He wouldn't fall into your gift-given trap, as all the other males did?

"Well, singing you shall have then, Cassian." You cleared your throat, and he looked up at you with a small smile. You began your song, singing with more love and affection than hunger and desire. You could only hope he would respond well.

You hadn't realized your eyes drifted closed until the end of your tune, and you opened them slowly to look to your new companion.

"That. Was. Beautiful." His arms wrapped around your waist, his hands pulling you closer to him. You squeaked, gripping his shoulder for stability.

"No, I-"

"Y/N," he said, his voice more gravelly and low than before. "You absolutely can sing. You're a good singer." He smiled lazily. Great. Your attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt didn't work.

"Thank you," you responded, scooping the last of the salve from the tin to spread over his wings. When you went to rub it on, he moved it out of reach. Your brows knit, and you looked at him to see a playful smirk on his face.

You reached again, only for him to move back at the last second. You scowled softly, turning your attention to his face once more.

"Cassian." You warned, and he chuckled brightly at you.

"You gotta... be quicker... than me," he drawled, his hands rubbing up and down the exposed skin on your waist. You lunged for his wing, almost getting it before he reared back again.

"Cassian!" You reprimanded. "Do you want me to heal you or not?" You said sternly. He only howled, laughing and smiling happily while looking up at you.

"Ahh, Y/N," he sighed. "You're cute when you're angry."

You rolled your eyes, but the blush in your cheeks told a different story. His fingers trailed up, brushing against the skin of your shoulders as he looked longingly, lustfully at you.

"You know... actually, we would make a really cute couple," he chuckled again, and you shook your head at his nonsense as you attempted to move from his lap. His rather... hardening, lap.

This was not good.

"Cassian, come on, let's get you into the shade so you can sleep this off, okay?" You said kindly. His fingers traced along your jawline, brushing a piece of damp hair behind your ear.

"I will... if you admit you're a good singer." He smiles cheekily.

You groan. "Ughhh, Cassian, please, will you just shut up and-"

"Kiss me already." He whispers, his gaze fully entranced on you. His pulse was prevalent, his neck vein throbbing as he leaned closer. He looked so damn delicious, you could almost take a bite-

You gently caress his face, pressing his lips to yours. Your insides knot, the hungry feeling rising as he moves his lips against yours. You almost break when his tongue slides against your bottom lip, but keep it together enough to pull away. His pupils are almost as blown wide as yours.

"Y/N-" he groans.

"We need to get you to the shade," you insist.

"I wanna kiss you again," he whines. A small smile plays on your lips at his words.

"Soon," you say, kissing his temple.

As soon as you sleep this spell off, anyway.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

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