The year is 1346. War ravages the land, and you are torn from your family to reside with the royal household of the Organas until it is safe. However you know there are more plots at play here, and you feel bitter and alone, until one mysterious Knight clad all in black bursts through the doors of the great hall, and into your heart, forever.
(Word count: 15.2k ; warnings: N*FW, graphic violence)
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Kylo is, for lack of a better word, enthralled with you.
Absolutely everything about you, from the way you carry yourself, to the way you seemingly were sunshine incarnate, has him captivated. It is becoming a problem, for he is finding it more and more difficult to remain aloof, to remain distant.
He does not deserve you, this he knows. Neither your kindness nor your smiles, your affectionate gazes. His stomach twists as he dreams against your door, standing upright with his eyes closed for a few hours of sleep.
But oh, they are wicked visions, for they are good dreams, the best of dreams. Dreams of your body close to his, his arms around your middle, back pressed against his chest. They are dreams of the depth of your eyes, the way your lashes fan out against your cheek as you blush at him – the fact that you even blush at him at all.
The year is 1346. War ravages the land, and you are torn from your family to reside with the royal household of the Organas until it is safe. However you know there are more plots at play here, and you feel bitter and alone, until one mysterious Knight clad all in black bursts through the doors of the great hall, and into your heart, forever.
Word count: 14.5k ; Warnings: N*FW
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You did not know how it began, or when, the siege. All you know is there is smoke from flame all around you, as arrows with burning ends fire through the sky, pierce the exposed flesh of man and woman alike.
There are screams of terror in the air, and you look around frantically, lost and afraid – for it is the English, and they have come to take the castle. Smoke and ash stings your eyes and it is dark, so dark, and you cannot see as you run blindly into the fray, careful not to trip over the bodies of those which lay strewn on the ground, crimson seeping through their smocks.
A choir somewhere in the distance sings, and you fear that it is God herself calling you, telling you your time is up. When a hand grasps around your wrist, you shout, attempt to wrangle yourself away, for you know the punishment women are put through as a prisoner of war and you would rather die than give a man such satisfaction.
You raise your hand to punch, but the smoke clears enough for you to see it is just your father.
“You must go.” He shouts, voice loud and commanding as he must compete with the sounds of war, the raging clank and crash of metal upon metal, of horses whinnying and the sobs of children.
“But I – ”
“(Y/N) I do not care, your life is in danger here.” Your father pleads as he drags you through the raging town, through the scrimmage.
You panic, terrified of being sent away. For that has been the plan, has always been the plan, should the English invade.
“And will my life fare better in Alderaan? Pray tell father, what is there to say the English may not find me?” You plant your feet and beg, fall to your knees before your father and beg, “Please, I would rather stay with my family, my friends! I do not know this Queen as you do, have not once met her ward.”
Your father is normally a most compassionate man, but as he hauls you to your feet and whistles for your horse, you know this is a losing battle.
1989 and New York City is a mess. Life was shit for all but you and Pale, who found that among the rubble and rubbish, there existed peace and calm and hard hot fucking. That is, until, an unwanted visitor makes themselves known, throwing this happy dream into a tumultuous nightmare.
Chapter 2 of my sequel to Blue Moon!
(Word count: 9.2k Warnings: N*SFW, drug mention/use)
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It smelled like shit, he thought with a frown. It smelled like stale beer and cigarettes, not that he wasn’t adding to that mix, but still.
Pale was annoyed, tappin’ his fuckin’ foot as he held onto the handrail on the subway as he waited and waited for it to arrive at his stop. He had no problem getting to Grand Central, but for whatever fuckin’ reason there was traffic or something because the short ride from there to the Lincoln Center was takin’ ages.
The subway was packed, because of course it was, nine-thirty rush hour. He had half a mind to stop off somewhere and just walk the rest of the fuckin’ way, but he didn’t want his face to catch frostbite or nothin’.
He was mindin’ his own business, lookin’ around the place when he saw something familiar, a little scribble on the wall, just next to the window he was leanin’ against. He could barely make it out amidst all the other graffiti on the train, but he recognized your handwriting anywhere.
There it was, a little faded maybe, a little worn away, but there it was: a heart with the two of your initials written in black sharpie.
Flip Zimmerman x Reader ; 3k ; very nsfw, inspired by sinday prompts xx
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“You want me to do what?” He
asks, one quiet evening as he’s hanging in the doorway.
It’s dark in the house, only a single lightbulb in the kitchen on, the only thing illuminating the space. You’re glowing, looking so gorgeous under it, but somehow sinister at the same time. He can see a spark in your eye, and he knows, he knows what it means.
Anonymous asked:
babbushka answered:
Yes he does!! He’s not into anything too hardcore, but here’s a little list/headcanons of the sort of things I bet he’s into lol
Anonymous asked:
babbushka answered:
Oh my gosh yeah he hates Halloween lol. I hope you enjoy these lil headcanons! :) x
Drafted into a war he didn’t want to fight, Flip Zimmerman comes home to a country that doesn’t want him. With your help, he works through it all.
Flip Zimmerman x Reader
Word count: 8.3k, warnings: N*FW, violence, graphic description of injury, war, gun violence, mild assault against reader
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I was not a combat soldier,
So, I was relatively safe, unless
Our helicopter was shot at, unless
Our jeep hit a land mine, unless
Our base camp was rocketed, unless
The enemy breached the perimeter.
We were, after all, in a war zone.
– Unknown
Flip sits in one of the only bases they have, reading a newspaper in a language he doesn’t speak. He’s mostly in it for the distraction, makes up his own crossword as he sips his beer.
He’s in a club, really. What a weird place, he thinks, a club. It’s dark and damp and entirely made of straw, but it’s a club. There’s music playing off a crackling radio, surprisingly good signal for where they are in the middle of nowhere. Flip’s got his feet propped up on the table and the toe of his boots sway back and forth to the rhythm of it. For whatever reason, they’re playing swing music, even though it’s the 70s. Well, just barely, anyway.
The booze flows and the soldiers drink it.
Some of them drink too much.
The story of how one man fell out of love and into it again
Charlie (Marriage Story) x Reader
(Word count: 3.7k ; Warnings: Infidelity, Affairs/Cheating, Angst, N*FW)
I’m A Fool To Want You
I’m A Fool To Want You
To Want A Love That Can’t Be True
A Love That’s There
For Others Too
He can tell that he’s dreaming, somehow. In that way that you know you’re not awake because everything is far too floaty, intangible. He knows, because he’s at the house, just walking through the door. He’s got a briefcase in one hand, and his coat draped over his arm. He can’t remember the last time he did that in real life, so this must be a dream.
He knows what dream this is. It’s a memory.
He knows because Nicole is sitting on the couch when he comes through the door, he knows because he remembers how tired she looked, her eyes rimmed red from crying. He hasn’t seen her cry in a long time, but he remembers this.
“Charlie.” Nicole says, and it stuns him.
He feels the fresh hurt from the dream and the familiar hurt from the memory at the same time, like he’s two people trapped in one, memory-Charlie and present-day Charlie. He knows what’s coming but he can’t stop it from happening.
He doesn’t want to.
“Oh.” He hears himself say, “You remember my name.”
And in hindsight that’s a shitty thing to say, it’s just another reason, he knows that now. But at the time he hadn’t cared. He’s still not sure he cares.
“I’m leaving you.” Nicole takes a deep breath but when she speaks it’s resolute. When she speaks it’s with a finality she never had before. Charlie doesn’t believe it, even though really, deep down, he knew this was coming.
He knew, of course he knew.
