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hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog · 12 days ago

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Ok I have a request that’s been brewing in my brain, what if Daryl and reader were out on a run and reader finds a mixtape in the car and plays it, and one of the songs is Creep by Radiohead and she starts singing along and he’s never heard her sing before and he’s like totally enamored by it. But when he starts to listen to the lyrics it maybe hits too close to home and he starts to get insecure and think he’s not good enough for her and he’s kinda standoffish for a bit and when he finally tells her what’s wrong she shows him how much he means to her and how special he is to her AHHHH

Ps ur writing is amazing I love it sm 🫶🫶

Creep

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Anxious!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Allusions to sex.

A/N: I cannot tell you how much I LOVE this request, thank you Anon! I'm sorry its taken me a while I have been ill as hell, but I'm hoping to get a few bits uploaded today when my heating kicks in and my fingers start moving again!

The dashboard is dusty. The kind of dust that seeps up your nose and makes you smell damp. The car is cramped and the road is bumpy as all hell, but he’s content, almost peaceful as she smiles over at him. He quirks a corner of his mouth upwards in response, knowing he’ll get lost in her smile if he lets himself, and the last thing he wants to do is crash the car when its so full of wares.

It’s not new, not really, their….relationship. It’s the culmination of the electricity that’s been thrumming underneath the surface for a while. So it’s not new, not really, but it is tentative. Everything with Daryl is tentative except killing walkers and hunting; there’s a sick sense of irony that it took the world ending for him to be confident in something. He’s not confident when it comes to her, even now. Even now she’s sitting there holding his hand as he drives back to Alexandria. He could have initiated the hand holding, probably, maybe, she’d like that, but the fear that he’s going to be rejected for trying is always overwhelming.

This run was simple, thank god, neither of them are bruised and battered though Daryl did smack the side of his head rather painfully against a door trying to block a walker. They’re taking three boxes of canned goods, some jumpers for the colder weather and a large handful or seven of treats back to Alexandria. He feels good. Better than he has in a long time; he can almost forget that his shoulder hurts every morning and his brother is dead and the dead are, you know, eating people.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the quirk of his lip that tries to sneak up on him again and failing miserably. She clocks it anyway, picking his hand up to her lips to press a kiss to it before dropping it out of reach in a way that’s so very her. She’s careful with him, never overstepping the boundaries she guesses he has because he hasn’t actually told her, but she offers affection like most people offer hellos. She never pulls away without reassurance.

“Can I see what’s on this?” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts, holding up a crappy mix-tape she’d found atop one of the boxes. She doesn’t even know if it will work, but she’s trying to be appreciative of the small mercies that come with this impossible life and by a stroke of luck they’re driving a car old enough to still have a damn tape slot. She doesn’t expect words to accompany his nod.

And suddenly she’s blaring out the words to a song he vaguely remembers from before, dancing in her seat whilst she lowers her voice for comic effect.

She can sing, he knows she can so she’s doing this for his benefit, to make him laugh. He’s heard her voice in the shower, echoing through their new home, melodic and soft and beautiful. His whole body is warm, bursting at the seams with affection, with the knowledge that she thinks of him even in the tiny moments; that even when she’s doing something she’ll enjoy she’s still trying to entertain him.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Maybe it’s the words that set his brain off. Maybe its that the dust reminds him of a home that had never been a home. He thinks back to all the times he’s watched her from a distance, the times he was too afraid to talk to her but wanted to keep her safe, following her from behind like a fucking stalker. He flinches as the memories of the kids in the playground flood him, the ones who’d called him weird and creepy, the voice of his father saying nobody would ever love him, the southern twang of his brother saying the same, ‘nobody is ever gonna love ya except me, baby brother’. But she does, doesn’t she? Or at least something close, she’d made that clear.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Hadn’t she made that clear? Hadn’t she kissed him of her own volition? Had he stayed too close until she had no other choice? Had he made his feelings too obvious? Had he been weird and creepy? Had he forced his affection on her until she’d just given in? Maybe people in his previous life had been right about him.

He pulls through the gates on autopilot, doesn’t even remember who was on guard duty but someone had to have let them in. He unloads the car, mind simultaneously numb and in overdrive, hands the boxes to…someone and slams the door shut hard enough he makes himself flinch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her soft voice barely registers through the muddled thoughts, she sounds far away and out of reach.

“Nothin’”

He shakes off the warm fingers against his arm, turns to trudge back to their shared house, ignoring the way her footsteps follow in time with his, trying to ignore that he knows she’s got shorter legs than he does and he knows she’s trying to catch up.

“You’re a terrible liar”

“I ain’t”

“Daryl-“

“I can’t do this” he pauses, doesn’t dare to look her in the eye as he scuffs his toe against the asphalt. He hasn’t thought far enough ahead to realise she has to follow him home as she lives there, he just needs to flee “Us” he clarifies as if she hadn’t worked it out already.

“You were fine five minutes ago, I don’t-”

“I ain’t good at this shit. I dun’ want it” he lies through his teeth. He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Her footsteps don’t resume as his do, and he takes her not following as acceptance, as proof his brain is right, as confirmation she never wanted him in the first place. Kicking off his boots as he seeks sanctuary inside their home he leaves the front door open for her. He’s never been inconsiderate on purpose.

Body freezing momentarily when he finally hears the front door click shut, he breaths a small sigh of relief that she’s home before guilt gnaws at him. Chewing his fingernails, he half expects her to come to his room, but he hears her upstairs closing the door to hers before the boiler kicks in to tell him she’s taking a shower. His head throbs at him, but the painkillers are in the bathroom upstairs and he avoids taking them unless he really has to.

It’s a testament to how fucking awkward he is that he hides in his basement bedroom until the sun has set, as if he hasn’t wanted a cigarette for the past two hours. Carol won’t let him smoke in the house, a rule implemented months ago, before she’d left for her own smaller house. He’s yet to break it out of respect and if he’s honest, fear. If anyone could sense something wrong from buildings away it would be Carol, and he doesn’t trust his partner housemate not to tell Carol just for a laugh. Daryl both loves and hates how close the two women are, by which he means that it’s lovely until he is the target of their anger or humour and then it is significantly less so.

“Thought you might want some company” her voice startles him out of his thoughts as she sits gracefully next to him on the front step of the porch.

“Don’t need ya pity”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not pitying you” She tries to keep the anger out of her tone. She doesn’t know what’s going on but if she’s confident about one thing its that Daryl wants her and she’s not about to let him sabotage his own happiness by being hard on himself “How’s the head?”

“Sore”

She shakes the small bottle of aspirin at him, pulled from the pocket of her pyjama pants.

“Take a painkiller”

“Better spent on someone else”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mo’ important people ‘ere than me, I ain’t ever been worth nothin’”

“Daryl-“

“Nah, I ain’t, I weren’t worth shit before, didn’t even have a fuckin’ job, ain’t worth shit now”

“Don’t do that, don’t act like you’re not important, just fucking don’t”

There’s such fierce disappointment under the ire in her tone that it stops him for a beat. He raises his gaze from the smooth wooden steps to look at her face, takes her in properly since he’d walked off earlier in the day. He catches the worry in her eyes, the wobble in her bottom lip she’s trying to bite away, chewing nervously.

“Why? I dun’ deserve ya, dun’ deserve any of this” voice cracking, splintering at the edges around the emotions he’s so used to burying. He can’t bury them when she’s looking at him like this.

“I’d die for you and you don’t even think you matter” she laughs sadly, but its wet, squishy, it doesn’t sit right on her face through the water that’s leaving her eyes. He wonders if she’s aware of the magnitude of what she just said, but she isn’t done, doesn’t show a sign that he can interrupt to point it out “What did I do wrong? How have I failed to show you that? I don’t understand”

Daryl has spent his whole life thinking he is in the way, that he’s a burden no matter how much he tries to prove his worth. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, but here she is crying at the thought of losing him, taking his ridiculous issues as a way she’s failed and he can’t have it, he just can’t. He reaches over, linking his fingers with hers, looking down to watch the way her thumb rubs over his fingers.

“Did I push this on ya?”

“Daryl no”

“What if I didn’t give ya a choice?”

“Daryl, look at me” she waits patiently until he turns his head to her “I chose this, I chose you” she keeps her hand in his as she eases up off the porch steps, tugging his hand until he complies, stubbing out his cigarette on the way up “Come inside”

She looks the door behind them, dims the lights before letting her hand drop and standing facing him in the middle of the room. He stands stock still, lost and confused as she strips her clothes off, purposeful but not rushed. He feels the heat that floods his cheeks.

Finally, when she’s completely naked she locks her eyes on his

“This scar, the one on my side? When I was seven I fell out of a tree, had a stick go right through, it was gross. This one on my shoulder? Argued back once with the wrong man, put me through a door. This one? See it? Put my arm through a window three sheets to the wind on bad tequila, think I wanted to end it all”

He swallows hard, never having had the stories behind the scars he’s seen. They’ve been intimate, a handful of times since this thing started, but she’s hidden almost as much as he has so this bravery is new. Astonishing.

“Do you see me, Daryl?”

“Yea-“ the crackle in his own voice cuts him off.

“Look at me and tell me I don’t look like I have a choice right now. Tell me you made me do this”

“I can’t”

He doesn’t realise he’s stopped closer until her fingers are toying with the collar of his button down.

“Please take it off”

He wants to protest, shifting on his feet in discomfort but the look on her face is so fucking soft, so open and vulnerable as she stands bare in front of him and he tries to keep his eyes on her face. He’d never deny her anything, so he undoes the buttons with shaking fingers. Hers follow, easing the shirt off his shoulders.

He shudders as she traces her fingers over the scars that litter his torso, reaching forward to place his hands around her waist, grounding and solid. Her skin is warm under his touch.

“I wish you could see yourself how I do”

“What d’ya see?” He whispers, kneading the flesh under his palms absentmindedly. He’ll deny himself the pleasure of his base urges as he’s done throughout the years, but even he’s not strong enough not to trail his hands up and down her skin, knuckles grazing the underside of her breasts with each upward stroke.

“Strong, kind, decent. You’re beautiful, Daryl Dixon”

He sucks in a sharp breath as she continues.

“Blue eyes, the way they look at me" she didn't need to look up to his gaze to know it was there, but she does anyway, sees the admiration, the pleading that's always behind his eyes "Look at your hands on me” she lays her hands over his, marvels at how much space they take up on her ribcage “Big, warm hands, safest hands I’ve ever known”

He clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head in disagreement, opening them again when he feels her palm against the stubble on his cheek.

“They’re safe, Daryl, I don’t know what’s happening in here right now” she taps his forehead with a finger “But I see you. Let me love you”

“Ya love me?”

“Yes” makes sure she looks at him when she says it, simply and firmly, no room for argument “Eyes wide open, knowing who you are, knowing what you’ve done, seeing you. Yes. I love you. Let me show you”

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archermind · 1 year ago

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seen your post abt suggestions for a spencer reid fic, this has been marinating in my brain so pls bare with me. <3

spencer reid x aarons daughter! reader

maybe he forgets his lunch, and his daughter brings it in? or something along the lines of needing a tutor? ill take ANYTHING. bonus points if its fluffy and smutty

feel free to change anything!!!

-🃏

Arousal Theory

Spencer Reid x Aarons daughter!reader

Description: You are Aaron Hotchner’s only daughter. It is safe to say he is a little over protective of you. You have never been able to bring a guy friend home without your dad profiling them and scaring them away. The one guy he never thought to profile was his own co-worker, Spencer Reid.

Word count: 2,500 approx.

Content Warning: fluff and light smut, light choking, hair pulling, fingering, small age gap.

y/n/n = your nickname

Author note: omgomg! I'm so glad someone sent this request in! Don't worry anonymous, I too have had this scenario brewing in my head. I loved your suggestion, thank you for submitting it! I hope i have done your idea justice <3

You hated your dads job. Mainly because he was too good at it. Every boy you were ever remotely friends with, you weren't anymore. All because of Aaron Hotchner. Each time you invited a guy to your house, your dad kicked into his professional shoes and took it upon himself to profile the poor boy. No guy was ever good enough for you or some of their characteristics unnerved Hotch.

This was the reason why at 22 years old, you still had never had any romantic relationship. The most romance you received lately was with a $20 lovehoney sex toy you bought in a valentines sale. Now that is romance. Your days were spent scrolling through tumblr, ao3 and erotic ebooks - yet every time after finishing the romance novel that piqued your current interest, you felt like sleeping on the highway. You couldn't help but think… ‘If this is my life at 22, I'm going to be the lonely old cat lady by the age of 25’.

It was a casual Saturday, you stood within the kitchen as your cat purred lapping in and out of your legs as you prepared her food. You weren’t really a sociable person. You mainly spent your days studying, preparing late dinners for your dad and caring for your cat - cookie. It was the main reason you didn't stay in dorms for college, you couldn't stand others. Other people your age were out drinking or hooking up. You just simply didn’t have the energy to go out to a party every week.

Your feet padded along the tiled floor as you made your way to the fridge. Opening the door, you let out a gasp. Your dad had forgotten his lunch. The BAU day can get pretty long and you know your dad often gets so caught up in a case he forgets to eat. You grabbed the tub, a basic lunch packed inside of it. You lightly stifled a laugh, seeing your fathers poor excuse of a ‘nutritious’ lunch. Opening the tub you pulled out an apple, some crackers and cheese, along with a small sandwich. Enough to fill a five year old… not a hardworking, criminal catching 43 year old man.

Luckily, you had cooked too much cheesy spinach pasta for lunch. You packed Hotch a generous amount. Before putting it into a lunch bag, grabbing your keys and heading out of the door. After two tries of twisting the ignition key for your car, it suddenly kicked into motion. With winter approaching, your old beat up car was struggling. The drive wasn’t too long fortunately. Getting a space in the small Quantico parking lot was your greatest problem.

You made your way through the reception area of the building, confidently walking towards the elevator. However, you were abruptly stopped in your tracks after seeing the ‘out of order’ sign. You sighed making your way over to the stairwell. You saw someone entering through the stairwell door and realized the doors to the stairs were key card accessed.

“HOLD THE DOOR PLEASE!” you yelled, running towards the boy who held the door.

“Sorry, but you have to have an access card to be allowed through” the boy spoke, gesturing to his key card.

You squint your eyes to read his name before responding with a coy smile.

“Well actually… spencer.” you smiled at him, “i have to just quickly drop off my dads lunch, so could you be a sweetheart and just let me through?”

He shifted anxiously as you battered your eyelashes at him, trying your hardest to persuade the older boy.

“I guess so..” he responded, looking your impatient demeanor up and down “what floor are you heading to?”

“Floor four” you stated quickly as you rushed toward the steps, spencer hot on your trail

“That's good because I actually am too!” Spencer gleefully responded as you hummed in surprise.

You were slightly short of breath by the time you reached the fourth floor. Spencer however was still just as energetic as before. All throughout the walk up the stairs, he rambled about which tourist attraction has the most steps in the U.S after you made a single complaint about the elevator being out of order.

“Here we are,” spencer opened the door “who is your da-”

“Y/N/N?” Hotch exclaimed, coming up to you with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Hey dad, I came here to bring you lunch�� you forgot yours” you pointed out with a laugh

“Oh? I didn't realize” he gratefully took the tub from your grasp, “i see you have met Dr. Spencer Reid”

You and Spencer both looked toward each other. You gave him a polite smile and then nodded sweetly to your dad.

“I was just talking to Spencer this morning about how you could use his extensive knowledge to support you in your studies” he spoke confidently, yet.. You found yourself on the verge of protesting. As you opened your mouth, Hotch began again…

“He already said yes.”

Great.

You anxiously bit your nails and paced just behind the front door, awaiting the moment Spencer would knock. From the moment you both met, you thought he was handsome. The way his brown soft looking curls were all laid messy. The way his honey brown eyes stared focused on every point of your face, as you spoke. It made you want to know him more. Everything about Dr Spencer Reid intrigued you.

A knock broke your train of thought- or more like your fantasy imagination about your dads Co-worker. It sent a shock through you. You shook your arms attempting to get rid of your nerves. It is just a 26 year old man coming to help you study. Nothing else… nothing more. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror to check if you looked good - to study of course

You death gripped the handle of the front door and pulled it open to see Spencer stood there. He wore a hat, gloves and scarf to help protect him from the cold brittle air. It made you feel terrible for leaving him that extra few minutes in the cold. You smiled at him, motioning him to come into your home.

“Hotch told me you were studying psychology” he questioned, walking into the dining room.

“Uh… yea i am” you followed him through to the dining room, “would you like a hot chocolate?” you questioned him.

“I actually don't like hot chocolate” Spencer stated, giving a soft smile to lessen the harsh deny of your polite gesture.

“Neither do i…” you bit your bottom lip as you looked at him blushing. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Spencer smiled.

As you added the sugars into the coffees, you heard cookie meowing from the dining room. You grasped the coffees, making your way back to spencer. To your surprise Cookie had jumped onto Spencer's knee and began kneading his leg, purring. You placed the coffees down and laughed at her kitten-like attitude for Spencer, a random stranger. Until you saw how uncomfortable Reid was. You quickly shoo’d her off of him.

Time passed, the studying was long and quite boring . Spencer helped you create numerous flash cards to help you study and you both went through them. While studying, small talk was going on - you enjoyed getting to know Spencer. He was such an interesting person that you wished to know him more and more, deeper and deeper.

“I have an idea, for each question on these cards i guess right you get to ask me a question?” spencer suggested

You smirked in response, it was a good trade. He got to tutor me and I got to question him.

“Okay” you grinned

The questions were basic. ‘What is your favorite part of your job?’, ‘Who is your favorite co-worker?’, ‘what is your favorite book?’. You were actually making an effort in answering these silly little cards. However, you were never asking the questions you really wanted to ask… more about his personal life.

“What is the arousal theory?” Reid asked

“to be the physiological state of being aware, alert, awake or attentive” you spoke confidently

“Correct!” he shouted

“Okay…” you spoke slowly and playfully

you thought long and hard about what you wanted to know about Spencer, your mind immediately going to the one and only thing you were desperate to know. Although it was wildly inappropriate to ask your dad’s co-worker, you just couldn't help yourself.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you spoke mumbled and shy.

“No.” he answered sharply, “do you- uh… have a boyfriend?” he blushed.

It was new year's eve and you were currently dressed in a silver satin dress. You felt confident but nervous as you stood beside your dad, hugging a tub of home baked cookies on the doorstep of Rossi’s house. He had invited hotch and you over to his annual new year party. You knew Spencer was going to be there hence why you dressed at your best.

Little to your fathers knowledge, you and Spence had grown closer and closer. Although you both were nothing serious. You could feel the tension between you both with every brush of your hands, sip of coffee and longing stare. You couldn't be more grateful for your weekly study sessions, you were gaining more marks on each essay and exam - all thanks to spencer.

Walking into the party, you were engulfed in hugs from Hotch’s co-workers. Everyone was so kind. You listened to the group of friends laugh and joke. Yet, you couldn’t help but notice Spencer was missing from the large tight-knit group. You glanced around the room, in search of the man you were obsessed with. You couldn’t help but worry that he wasn't here at all.

“I'm going to go grab a drink” you informed hotch before rushing off into the crowd. You were in search of a beverage and a smartass man who took up every inch of your thoughts. You pushed past small crowds making your way to the drinks table. Your eyes scanned the room, still no sign of Reid.

“You look beautiful Y/N” a voice whispered in your ear.

You jumped slightly at the hot breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. You smiled instantly knowing exactly who it was behind you. You quickly spun around and threw your arms around his neck, giving him the tightest hug. He smelled good and you found yourself sinking further into his arms for longer.

“Should we get away from the crowds” you asked him, looking up at him, remembering a discussion you had about his hate for big crowds during a study session.

He nodded and swiftly guided you through Rossi’s home and up the stairs to a bathroom. You giggled as he closed and locked the door. You loved sneaking around to have some privacy for whatever it was going on between you both. It made you feel special and giddy for the tall boy who you had grown so close to. Spencer now towered over you as he stepped closer, placing his hands on your waist and lifting you onto the giant bathroom counter.

The room was silent but the tension was thick. You licked your lips as they went dry from anticipation for anything to happen. You stared up at him as Spencer tucked a stray strand of hair that fell in front of your face behind your ear. You have never wanted a man more and it was a lot for you to admit. You felt vulnerable under his touch and gaze. You and Spencer searched in eachothers eyes, looking for any indication in each other's stare if you both felt the same way.

You found yourself leaning into the temptation and to him. Spencer was quick to close the gap. You both kissed passionately and slowly, enjoying the moment that had been a long time coming. You smiled as he pulled away.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long Y/N” he blushed at his confession

“I wish you didn’t wait so long Spence”

You kissed him again and felt his hand go to your neck, applying light pressure. You moaned at the contact. Slowly Spencer began to pepper kisses along your jawline. You hummed at his actions. You felt yourself grow with more need for him. Both of your breathing became heavy as your lust and want for each other grew stronger. You felt Spencer's hand trail up your thigh as his tongue played with yours in a heated make out. You pulled away and looked down as his hand grazed your clothed pussy. You were soaked for him and ready for his touch but so hesitant. You didn’t want this to be a one time thing, no matter how much you wanted this.

“Is this okay Y/N?” Spencer questioned you concerned for the worried look you held in your expression.

“Yes Spencer p-please” you whined needy, pushing the negative thoughts away.

Quickly Spencer pushed your panties aside, you gasped at the sudden touch of his cold fingers against your heat. He began stroking small circles on your clit causing your head to fall back from the pleasure. He bit back a smirk at the reaction you had for his touch. You whined as you felt a finger brush near your entrance.

“You have to be quiet baby” he spoke gently, shushing you before plunging his fingers into you.

You moaned in response and then Spencer clasped his spare hand over your mouth to try and muffle the reaction coming from you, not wanting your father and his boss to know what you both were getting up to in his co-workers bathroom. He kept the pumping of his fingers at a steady rhythm as his thumb massaged circles on your clit. Spencer's hot mouth went to your neck biting and sucking at the skin. It seemed your entire body was sensitive for him. Every touch, kiss, and word from him caused an elicit reaction.

You began to ride his hand and fingers faster as you grew closer to your finish. While he sped up the thrusts of his fingers, you could hear the countdown to new year about to start. Spencer knew you were about to cum and instantly knew what he wanted from you.

“You only cum when i want you to” spencer growled his order into your ear

your legs and body began to shake from the overwhelming knot of pleasure in your stomach. Your body writhed and wriggled against the counter as his thumb applied pressure to your sensitive overstimulated clit. You were a mess, dripping with arousal.

10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3…

“Hold it Y/N!” Spencer grunted

2..

“Look at you such a good girl Y/N” he praised, stroking your hair out of your face but grabbing a fistful and pulling your head back to look at him….

1…

“Cum for me!” Spencer begged as he watched you come undone from his touch.

You whined from your climax. Trying your hardest to gain the full ability of your mind as it was going wild from your overstimulation. Spencer kissed your forehead as your chest heaved up and down. You smiled letting out a light laugh.

“Happy new year Spence” you smiled into his kiss

“What a way to come into the new year Y/N”

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h0neysp1ce · 3 months ago

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Hello, Saw your request open, Can I request fluff Headcanons, (Tighnari, Cyno and Gaming) how they would take care of Sick s/o, but here's the thing, she has anemia so it takes longer for her to get better.

(This is basically me just seeking out comfort from my fav characters because I'm currently sick lol)

Fʅυϝϝ Hҽαԃ ƈαɳσɳʂ

Summary: How does he take care of s/o when she's sick?

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Characters: Tighnari, Cyno, Fem! Reader Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff Constellation: Head canons Warning(s): Mentions of sickness, nothing too graphic or detailed, mentions of reader being Anemic, mentions of anemia symptoms, just general illness/sickness mentions. Reader Is fem! alined uses of the word Girlfriend. °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A/N: Hello Anonie, I'm so sorry to hear that :( I hope this brings you comfort, get well soon 💛

Extra Side Note: Also I did a little research on Anemia to help write this, I hope it's not too scuffed . (Edited Post)

Word count: 1139

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Tιɠԋɳαɾι 🌻

He had been aware of your anemia since you first met, so he was always prepared for when you might become ill.

He would keep plenty of herbs and remedies on hand to ease your sickness and discomfort, especially since it tended to take longer for you to recover.

He’d make you soup (specifically a vegetable type ) or prepare foods rich in iron, as anemia results in low iron deficiency.

The moment he noticed a hint of illness, he’d immediately have you sit down or lie down, especially if you mentioned feeling dizzy or weak.

Since you’d often have cold hands due to your condition, he had a habit of interlocking his hands with yours and warming your hands with his. He did this often when you weren’t feeling well, and it was incredibly comforting. You soaked up his warmth as much as you could.

Your symptoms ranged from dizziness and tiredness to general weakness. Tighnari was more than prepared to take care of you and attend to your needs.

He’d give you forehead kisses, always hold your hands, and place kisses on them every now and then.

He’d have you cuddle up to him for warmth, holding you close while you slept or simply throughout the day.

He frequently checked up on you, asking how you were feeling. He wanted you to be upfront and honest; your well-being meant everything to him.

If your condition worsened, he’d take you to the Bimarstan for more advanced treatment if his remedies weren’t effective.

He’d always brew some herbal tea or another type of tea when you felt an illness coming on. That was his first line of defense.

He wouldn’t let you get up from bed because of your condition. It was imperative that you stay put and avoid straining yourself.

He wanted you to take it easy throughout your long recovery.

He’d get you anything you needed if you asked, so don’t be shy about making requests.

He always reassured you that he was there for you.

He had a habit of cupping your chin and the sides of your face with his hands. Not in a negative way, but because he considered you his delicate flower, needing to be taken care of with utmost care.

It pained him to see you unwell, and he’d do anything to alleviate your discomfort- even trade places with you if he could.

You’d scold him when he leaned in to kiss you, warning him that he might get sick from you. He’d always insist he’d be fine.

He would definitely shower you with love throughout your illness, not just by taking care of you but also by giving you loads of affection and attention.

If you were tired, he’d have you rest, and he’d wake you up periodically to ensure you took your medication, ate before taking it (as medicine on an empty stomach isn’t ideal), and stayed hydrated. If you allowed him, he’d even feed you himself.

He always kept extra blankets on hand for you and would wrap you up in them for sure.

Cყɳσ 🌙

He’s knowledgeable about your condition, and when you’re ill, he’s prepared for the most part.

If you’re up and about and start to feel dizzy or experience a spell, he’ll be right by your side to prevent you from fainting and hurting yourself.

His arms will be wrapped around your middle to support you if you do faint.

If you insist on doing things yourself, he’ll agree, but only if you let him carry you to where you need to go (ex: living room, kitchen).

He’s always one to kiss your inner wrists when you’re unwell, as a form of comfort.

Though his hands are calloused from wielding a spear, they’re comforting when he draws small circles on the back of your hands.

He doesn’t mind kissing you while you’re sick; nothing will stop him from loving you and giving you the care you deserve.

When you both lay down, you’d be on top of him with his arms wrapped around your lower back. Sometimes, if you want, he might rub circles on your back to help you fall asleep and might even tell you jokes as you drift off.

He’d try to limit his duties as General Mahamatra to stay by your side when you’re ill. He wouldn’t leave you unattended.

In the morning, while you’re still recovering, he might wake you up with a kiss on the cheek or a soft whisper that it’s time to get up (likely to take meds, eat, and drink something).

If you fall asleep before him, he’d gently run his hand across your forehead, combing through your hair, slightly frowning as he hates seeing you in pain or discomfort.

As your boyfriend, he loves you immensely and would do anything for you.

He’d let you sit sideways on his lap whenever you wanted and lean into him. No matter if you’re sick or not, he finds you to be the prettiest woman he’s ever known, even in sickness.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #female reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x you #cyno x you #cyno x reader #cyno x y/n #fluff #tighnari x you #tighnari x reader #genshin tighnari #tighnari x y/n #headcanon #fem reader

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festivalsofmargot · 2 years ago

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hi!!!! i love your writing style, it’s so beautiful! when you have the time, could i request Ominis x reader where they have a really bad fight and Ominis says something really mean like totally out of pocket to where their relationship is cracking so he has to win her forgiveness and love back 😭 i love angst it hurts me so good

The 3 Boys & The Hogwarts Champion

{Garreth Weasley/Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: The TriWizard Tournament was a tournament that promised glory, but also a tournament with a death toll so high, just surviving it would be the accomplishment of a lifetime. Your significant other had begged you not to put your name in the Goblet of Fire. You told him you wouldn’t, but you've done so anyway in secret. These are the reactions of Garreth, Ominis, and Sebastian when they not only realize you put your name in behind their back, but that you’ve also been chosen as the Hogwarts Champion.

Word Count:

Garreth: ~ 2,200 words

Ominis: ~ 1,700 words

Sebastian: ~ 2,400 words

Warnings: Kissing, Angst

Author’s Note: Thanks for the request, anon! And I'm so happy you enjoy my writing ❤ I hope you don't mind I got Garreth and Sebastian in on your request haha. You can go ahead and jump to reader and Ominis' fight, there aren't any rules here. 😉 Sorry for taking so long on my fanfics! Work has been nuts lately, I've fit in writing whenever I had the drive and wasn't mentally burned out from my job. Hope you enjoy and have fun with it guys, got some good ol' angst written up for ya 😚

Songs (if interested):

Garreth’s song: War of Hearts (Acoustic Version) - Ruelle

Ominis’ song: Granite - Sleep Token

Sebastian’s song: Is It Really You? - Sleep Token, Loathe

Garreth:

When Garreth heard Headmaster Black announce your name, his blood went cold, the entertained smile vanishing from his face. But - we agreed you wouldn’t… No. No, this isn’t fun anymore. Stop this. Stop all of this now.

He watched you as you made your way up to stand with the other champions. You were smiling, happy, proud as can be that your name was chosen. But he caught the guilty look in your eye when you glanced his way. You lied to me.

The room seemed to be spinning while he sat still in his seat, looking Headmaster Black’s way but not listening to what he was saying about the tournament. His ears were ringing, he was starting to feel sick.

As soon as everyone was dismissed, Garreth shot up from his seat, wanting to get out of the Great Hall as fast as possible. You wanted to chase after him, explain yourself. But you could only watch Garreth’s form walk away as you were guided with the other champions out to discuss the tournament expectations.

Garreth had gone numb. The one he loved most had lied to him, deciding some dangerous, unnecessary tournament was worth more than him. Without thinking, he had gone to Professor Sharp’s empty classroom and started brewing whatever came to mind. He wasn’t in the mood for experimenting, he wanted to put together ingredients that made sense, he couldn’t take anymore surprises.

You had been watching him silently from the doorway for a few minutes, trying to think of what you could possibly say to him after what you had done.

Feeling someone’s presence, he turned to see who it was. He shook his head and scoffed humorlessly seeing it was you, turning back to his potions.

I deserved that welcome. “I -” You began but stopped short, not knowing how to continue.

He took a step back from his potion brew, resting his hands on the table, looking at the ground because he wasn’t quite ready to look at you. “I just want to know why. Why would you look me in the eye, promise me you wouldn’t put your name in the running, and then go off and do exactly that behind my back?” His voice was hard, his words direct.

You had never heard him be this stern with you. You didn’t think you’d ever heard him this stern with anyone. Way to go, you’ve managed to make the most fun loving, easy going person you know livid. “There’s no good excuse, Gar.”

“Don’t.” He said through gritted teeth. “You are not allowed to call me that.”

Your heart broke, but you knew you brought this on yourself.

He took a steadying breath, trying to push down his temper. “Either tell me why you did it or leave me alone.” His tone sounded like he was already done with you.

You nodded your head, quickly trying to find the words. “I… Natty put her name in.”

Garreth squeezed his eyes shut. He had heard Natty throwing the idea of entering around but he hadn’t realized she’d actually done it. If he had found out before you did, he would have done everything in his power to keep it hidden from you. Although, he didn’t know how successful he’d be when Natty was your best friend. “If she wanted to compete, that's her choice.”

“And this is mine. I’m not letting anything happen to her.”

He stood up straight then, looking at nothing in particular. He shouldn’t have expected anything different. You were the most capable person to compete for Hogwarts, and the only one in ages able to wield ancient magic, you both knew if you entered your name you’d get chosen. He had begged you to promise him you wouldn’t put your name in. But of course, it still ended up like this.

All it would take was one misstep, and you’d be taken from him forever. The thought had brought back the sickening feeling he had earlier. Wishing he had felt numb still, he sighed and rubbed at his brows with his thumb and forefinger. “Why do you have to be the hero every bloody time?” He grumbled, just loud enough for you to hear.

You looked down, feeling horrible seeing him this way. It was a new low knowing you had caused it. Garreth was always bright and full of good humor, and your betrayal seemed to wash that all away like it never existed. “I’m so sorry. I never… never wanted to hurt you.”

He finally turned your way and looked over you solemnly for a moment. You held his gaze as he walked up and cupped your cheek. “I just had to go after you, didn’t I? Why couldn’t I have gone after someone dull? Why’d it have to be you?” He gave a small shake of his head as he mused to himself. “It’s cruel being in love with you.”

It hit you then that you could lose him over this. “I know.” You whispered.

With a disappointed sigh, he released you and went back to his potions station. “You can go now.” He said with no emotion, as if he were dismissing you.

You stared after him a moment longer, then took your leave.

He poured some of the wiggenweld potion he brewed into a flask. Just as he was about to cap it, rage coursed through him and he threw the flask against the wall.

He wasn’t planning on attending any of your challenges, but he found he couldn’t keep away. He needed to keep an eye on you or he’d feel worse than he already did. He remained near the back of the audience, pacing back and forth, anxiously running his hand through his hair throughout the whole thing. The sick, nervous feeling never dissipated, he could have sworn the sensation was burning a hole through his insides.

He nearly collapsed when the challenge was over, breathing easier with so much relief washing over him. He ran down to the champions’ tent to wait for you to leave. He called your name as you walked out and you quickly turned in the direction of his voice, eyes wide that he had not only shown up, but approached you first.

He closed the distance between you two and pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you like he never wanted to let go. You wrapped your arms back around him, nearly crying at the collision.

He pulled back just enough to cup your cheek and look over your features. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” His stomach dropped seeing all the gashes and bruises on your face.

“I’m fine.” You tried to reassure him, but his eyes darting all over you told you your words hadn’t done much reassuring.

He took your hand in his and pulled you urgently along with him. “I’m getting you to the hospital wing, and I’m going to make you some wiggenweld potions.” He stopped briefly to look you dead in the eye, no nonsense. “And you’re going to drink every single one I put in front of you.” He turned and began tugging you along again.

You smiled to yourself, not daring to disagree with him. “Yes, sir.”

On your way to the hospital wing, you walked by the wall where the Room of Requirement would be. It never showed up when you were with someone else, but that day it did. Garreth slowed to a stop, furrowing his brows as he watched the door form before him.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s the Room of Requirement. Looks like it believes we both need it now.” You tugged him in with you and his eyes went wide at it all before him.

“You’ve had all this to yourself since fifth year?” He was in awe, how could you ever want to leave this place? As his eyes explored the room, they landed back on you, and he remembered in a panic what he was originally doing. “Sit down.” He commanded. He turned and scanned the room for your potions station. Spotting it, he strode up and began on some wiggenwelds. While those took a moment to brew, he looked around for some bandages, anything to patch you up with.

“Right here.” You held them up as you sat on the couch and began working them onto yourself.

He snatched them from you, sat down, and started doing it for you. You watched him as he fixated on your scrapes and bumps. Being this close again, you wanted to kiss his freckles more than ever before. He had been avoiding you since you last spoke, you were convinced you had lost him. You probably had and this was only a moment of weakness on his part.

“I love you.” You found yourself saying. “I’d do anything for you, I hope you still know that.”

He seemed unphased by your words as he continued cleaning you up. “You’d do anything but keep your name out of a burning goblet, it seems.”

You closed your eyes and sighed through your nose. He had you there.

He stopped his movements suddenly and shifted away from you, sighing himself and leaning his elbows on his knees. “You broke my heart, you know.”

Tears stung at your eyes. But you refused to let them fall, you weren’t the victim here. All you could do was nod your head even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“You promised me you wouldn’t put your name in that damned goblet.” His voice was strained. He went silent for a moment, taking a steadying breath. “You got me thinking about life outside of Hogwarts.” He began again. “It’s only going to get worse once we leave here and we’re out there. You’re going to put yourself in worse and worse situations for others.” He rubbed his hand down his face roughly at the thought and let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to bear it.”

You sat up straight, trying to keep your composure as your nerves went into a stomach-turning frenzy. You knew what he was getting at.

“I don’t want to be in love with you… I don’t.” He admitted. He looked up to the potion pots and saw the wiggenwelds were done. He stood to his feet to grab them and bring them over. He knelt before you, holding up one of the flasks. “You’re to drink all three of these.” He looked up at you with a face of you don’t have a say, drink it.

You took the first one from him, downing it, then did the same for the following two. Once you finished he got up and discarded the flasks. He returned to your side on the couch and took your hand in his. He looked down at it in his lap, tracing shapes on your skin lightly with his thumb. “What I do know is that being apart from you feels so much worse. Now that… that I know I can’t bear.” He looked at you then, his face told you he was upset with himself for feeling this way, for choosing to stay by your side.

You had caused this. You had done him wrong. And he was right, things were going to get worse after Hogwarts. You really were a cruel one to love.

“I don’t know how long I'll be furious with you, but I’m thinking it’ll be a while.” He let himself get lost in your eyes for a moment. “Glad you’re okay at least.” He released your hand and got up to leave.

You were going to let him go, but you stood to your feet and stormed after him. You grabbed at him to face you and then crashed your lips onto his. You cupped his face and he shot his hands to your waist, his fingers digging deep into your sides.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes narrowed at you and he exhaled, frustrated. He was beyond exasperated with you, but he still craved you like no other. Furrowing his brows, he returned his lips to yours, moving his mouth against yours to satiate said craving. His hands slid up your back as he wrapped his arms around you.

He hadn’t realized how starved he was for your taste until he had you there in his arms again. He licked at your bottom lip, wanting to get more of you, and you gladly granted him access. Anything he wanted, you’d give it to him. He could feel your compliance, and he was tempted to see just how sorry you were.

But his hands slowly moved up to yours and removed them from his face. He tore his lips from yours and looked over your flushed features, wanting more but not allowing himself more, then he released you. “Nice try.” He turned and made his way out. “Stay sweet and I might let you call me ‘Gar’ again.” He called over his shoulder.

Ominis:

“You what?!” Ominis was fuming now, you had seen him angry with you before, but never like this.

“I thought,” You exhaled in frustration, “I thought it would help your family approve of me.”

“My family should be none of your concern!”

“I’m not a pure-blood, Ominis, you know they would never approve of me. Being the Hogwarts Champion has to mean something. If they ever find out we’re together, they’d arrange a marriage for you like that.” You said with a snap of your fingers. “This tournament could help prove my worth.”

He shook his head, pacing back and forth. “And you’d think I’d just roll over and let that happen?! This was not the answer, I’ll never understand why you thought it was.”

“There’s no need to get this upset. I might not even get picked anyway.”

His pacing came to a sudden halt, his eyebrows shot up in incredulity. “Is that supposed to be a joke? Of course your name’s going to get picked!” His fury turned into something with a bit more worry then. “I can’t help you when you're out there, you’re going to have to do all those challenges on your own.”

“Whatever they throw at me, I’ll be able to handle it. I’m sure I’ve already survived through worse than what they’re planning.”

“That’s just it! You had no control over everything that’s happened and you survived through it! This? You’re actively seeking out danger now, it’s pointless! When did you become so dim-witted as to not see that?!” Ominis regretted his words immediately, desperately wanting to take them back but unable to do so.

You were stunned for a moment he had actually spoken to you in such a way. A petty smile formed on your face. “Seems we’re done here.”

Ominis called your name in a panic as he heard you storm out of the undercroft, but you ignored him. He dug around frantically in his pocket for his wand, holding it up and having it guide him to follow where you had gone. He knew his wand didn’t work as a tracker, but he had the slightest bit of hope that if it sensed how much he needed to get to you it might help him out. But no such luck.

It had been a week since you and Ominis fought and the dreaded day had finally arrived to announce the TriWizard tournament champions. Every now and then his wand would sense you were in the same room as him, but he didn’t need his wand to be able to tell you were keeping your distance.

How could I have spoken to you the way I had? Every time he thought back to it, he wanted to ask Sebastian to punch him, just bash his face right in.

Even though Ominis knew it was coming, he was still hit with an overwhelming sense of dread when Headmaster Black announced your name. He didn’t clap with everyone else and he hoped you noticed.

He left the Great Hall with everyone else and his wand sensed Poppy was near him. An idea instantly formed in his head. “Excuse me, Poppy?”

Poppy turned her head in surprise hearing Ominis call to her. “Y - Yes, Ominis?”

It was a relief hearing your best friend’s voice still sound so friendly to him. You must not have told anyone about how he spoke to you, which only made him feel worse. He was the villain here. “I need your help with something.”

He was leaning against a tree in the woods behind the beasts class stables, hands in his pockets and tapping his foot anxiously. He heard your footsteps crunching the leaves on your way over.

“Poppy? Poppy, I’m here with the feed, what’s happened to High Wing?” You asked in a panic. When Poppy didn’t respond, you looked up from the feed in your arms and Ominis stepped forward.

You groaned and turned on your heel to leave.

“Please - just wait -”

“Want to insult me some more, do you?” You snipped without looking back at him.

“I’m going to have my family speak to Headmaster Black.” Ominis blurted, and you froze. “They’ll get you out of the games.”

He could hear you drop the feed to the ground. “Don’t you dare.” A chill went down his spine at your warning tone but he stood his ground.

“You don’t have a say in the matter. You’re not competing.”

He could hear you stomp up to him, could feel your presence, and you were close. His breath hitched when he realized you were close enough for him to feel your breath against his skin. It had hit him all at once how he hadn’t been able to touch you for a week, and he didn’t know if he was able to keep himself from closing the distance between you two right then and there.

“Back off, Gaunt. How about you sit down and shut up while I show this entire valley what this ‘dim-wit’ can do?”

Ominis’ lips parted slightly. Oh...

He fisted the fabric of your shirt and shot his lips in the direction of where he felt your breath and heard your voice. It was all too perfect getting your lips on the first try, especially with you having riled him up, speaking to him as you had.

He nipped at your lip and it drew the softest of moans from you, but he caught it. He always heard every little noise he could get out of you. Your hands went up and ran through his hair, you had missed him too, he could tell. Remembering where the tree he was leaning against was, he walked you back until you were pressed against it.

He released your shirt and brought his hands to your waist. His kisses turned less ravenous and more apologetic. He slowed and deepened his mouth movements. “I’m sorry.” He whispered against your lips. “I’m so sorry. I had no right speaking to you that way.” He said in between kisses. “There’s no excuse. I’ll do everything in my power to make it up to you.”

“Ominis, stop talking.” You sighed, greedily taking his lips again. Though his body weight was against you, keeping you trapped between him and the tree, he was the compliant one.

Ominis pulled back, as much as he wanted to keep connected to you, you two had unfinished business. “I won’t go to my family… if it’s what you really want.” Ominis said, still a bit breathless from your kiss. “Just… don’t do it for them, I beg of you. They aren't worth it.” Ominis leaned forward to kiss at your neck tenderly as he waited for your answer.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. “It’s what I want. If not me, then who?”

His mouth on your neck stilled. As much as he hated to agree with you on this, he did. If he sent his family to speak with Headmaster Black to have another student take your place, he’d practically be sending that student to their death. You were the most capable person he had ever known, and you didn’t even need dark magic to accomplish all that you had. If anyone was going to survive this thing, it was you.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a loving embrace. He nuzzled his face into your neck and took in your scent, reveling in this moment you had together. He thought he had ruined everything after your fight.

More than anything, he wanted to go back in time and do everything he could to stop you from ever entering your name into that Goblet. But in the end, it was always your choice, not his.

The days leading up to your first challenge, Ominis kept close to your side, constantly asking you questions on how prepared you were.

“Did you brew enough wiggenweld potions? How about we start on some thunderbrews for you as well?”

“I know how effective the chomping cabbages are, but let’s get some mandrakes and venomous tentaculas grown to be on the safe side.”

“Were you able to put that enchantment I showed you on your competition robes?”

The day of the challenge, he was able to keep his composure, but only because you asked him to. You were anxious as well, and him being sick with worry for you would only add to the frenzy of nerves within you.

He asked Sebastian to narrate everything that was happening while you were out there. Hearing Sebastian’s depiction and the blasting sounds of spells from the arena unraveled his calm exterior more and more by the second. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, leg bouncing up and down rapidly. He didn’t know how he was going to have to sit through two more of these.

Use the Unforgivables if you have to, I don’t care. He found himself thinking. Whatever it takes, just come back to me.

The sound of the crowd cheering and the feel of Sebastian roughly patting his back in excitement told him you had completed the first challenge. He immediately stood to his feet and took out his wand, his legs were jelly but he pushed through and went straight for the champions’ tent. As soon as he arrived you had run up and thrown your arms around him.

He didn’t hesitate to drop his wand to the ground and wrap his arms around you. He closed his eyes, holding you so close to him he had started to lift you off the ground a bit. He was beyond thankful to every little thing in the universe that aligned to help him get back to you.

“If you still believe my family would be able to tear me from you, you might actually be a dim-wit.”

He could feel you chuckle against him. “I’d like to see them try after what I just accomplished back there.”

Sebastian:

Sebastian had let his emotions get the better of him again. It was his fault you had been avoiding him for days now, and he couldn’t bear it any longer. He tried giving you your space but he needed to at least let you know how sorry he was. As soon as the TriWizard champions announcement ceremony was over, he’d find you and apologize. He needed to be better, he knew that.

But then your name was called.

Wait, that can’t be right. You didn’t even put your name in so how…? His breathing grew a bit heavier. No, no Professor Black read the wrong name. You told each other everything. And he specifically had you promise him you wouldn’t enter.

He watched for your features to see if you were just as confused as he was, but you weren’t. You were smiling, happily receiving congratulatory pats on the back as you walked up to stand with the champions already chosen, not glancing his way once.

He mentally willed you to look his way as you stood up there. Give me something, give me anything. Tell me with your eyes why you did this. But no use, you were up there looking as if you had no reason not to be.

When everyone was dismissed he stayed back a bit, wanting to go up to you. But you and the other champions were escorted away to discuss what was to be expected going into this tournament.

Sebastian waited outside the Great Hall until you were done. Once he saw you walking out, he pushed up off the wall he was leaning against and came up behind you, calling your name.

“Did you enter because of me? Is this my fault?”

You stopped in place, taking a moment to turn and face him. You had some trouble meeting his gaze. “You weren’t the main reason, but I’d be lying if I said you weren’t a part of it.”

“Then why? Why else would you do this?”

You looked over his dispirited features in silence for a moment. “Since the moment I arrived at Hogwarts, I felt as if I’ve been running around taking care of everyone else. And after our last fight, I… I don’t know. Something in me snapped, Sebastian. Putting my name in that Goblet, it -” You exhaled, feeling like he wouldn’t understand but you decided to tell him anyway, “it was the first time I felt like I was doing something for me.”

Sebastian looked down, it seemed you didn’t tell each other everything like he once believed. How could he have not known you felt this way? He was the one seeing you and he didn’t even realize something had been off with you.

“I know I made a promise not to do it. And for breaking that promise, I apologize. But… I don’t regret doing it.” You were ashamed at the admission, but you wanted him to know.

He realized it then when he met your gaze, he had lost you. You had been slipping away from him for a while, and he had been so blinded by his own issues he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

A nasty, stomach turning feeling hit him all at once. “Is this… Are you ending things between us?”

His heart constricted painfully when you didn’t answer him right away, didn’t reassure him that he had it all wrong and you would never part from him. You were looking at him like you knew the next thing you were about to say would make him feel terrible.

“Sebastian, I’ll always be around to help you with Anne -”

He huffed in disbelief and turned on his heel to get out of there, as far away from you as possible. He didn’t want to hear you finish that sentence, how you had started it had already broken him enough.

He fell back onto his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. He couldn’t stop the tears from stinging at them but he could sure as hell keep them from falling. It hurt more thinking back to the conversation and realizing that not once had you called him ‘Seb’ like you normally did. How long has it been since you had? Even more indication of how far you had drifted away. How did this happen?

When was the last time you asked him to help you with anything? There were a few times in fifth year you had asked for his help getting the triptychs, but those outings had benefited him as well in trying to get a cure for Anne. Was there ever a time he had helped you with anything that was purely for you? He was disgusted with himself, not being able to name a single time. No wonder he lost you.

And now you were going to compete in a tournament famous for being so dangerous, it was common for the participants to die. Throwing yourself into jeopardy like this, you hadn’t asked for his help. No. You had banished him from your side. How could you expect him to keep his distance in circumstances such as these?

The tears were overflowing, escaping out of his shut eyelids and he pressed his arm over them tighter. Just come back. I need you back. I’ll be better, I promise.

Ominis had advised Sebastian to give you your space, if you wanted his help you would ask for it. But all these horrifying scenarios kept popping up in his head, scenarios where you die and he could have done something to prevent it. He didn’t care if you ignored him, didn’t care if you hated him, as long as you were alive, you could feel however you damn well pleased about him.

He had scoured the library for any enchantment you could put on your competition robes, any herbology methods to make your carnivorous plants more vicious, anything to make your potions more effective.

He lost sleep over it, he didn’t mind. He’d much rather sneak into the restricted section late at night than face those nightmares of your corpse he’d been having the past week. Once he felt he had enough notes written out of all these things that could help you, he decided to find you.

He waited for you to come outside of the Room of Requirement with a notebook of everything he had researched for you. It was late but there was still a good amount of time before curfew. As the halls were getting darker and emptier, he sat on the ground, head back against the wall until you came out.

He startled a bit when the door finally formed. He sprang to his feet and straightened out his clothes as he watched you walk out. Your eyes met his and it pained him that you looked uneasy to see him.

“I um -” He cleared his throat, a bit unsure of himself now that he had your full attention. “I have something for you.” He held out the notebook to you.

You glanced down at it in his hands, then eyed him as you took it. “What’s this?”

Sebastian moved himself to your side, looking over your shoulder, opening the notebook as you held it in your hand and gave as brief an explanation as he could. He pointed out where you could find the herbology notes, the enchantment notes, and the potion notes. As he explained, your eyes drifted gradually up from the notebook to his face.

After a moment, he noticed you looking at him and not the notebook. “What?”

“Nothing.” You looked back down at the notebook. “Thank you for this.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything and stayed where he was next to you. You looked back up at him, wondering if there was something else he wanted. He hadn’t been this close to you for weeks. He missed your scent, your warmth, your lips being this close to his. He wanted to claim them again, but he knew he couldn’t. You weren’t his anymore.

Rather than pulling you close, he kept his hands to himself and gave a single nod of his head to you. Then he turned on his heel and left.

You watched him walk away in silence. You were expecting him to ask for something in return, help with some cave that had some book that mentioned some untapped magic. Just like he had always done. But he had just given you the notebook and left it at that.

Where was this Sebastian before? Truth be told, you always felt like he could walk out on you at any moment. Especially if he ever felt like he no longer had a need for your ancient magic, there were many nights you’d be up wondering if that was the only reason he was with you. This along with the way he would snap at you whenever he was frustrated, taking it out on you. He had gotten better about it since fifth year, but it still occurred.

Whether he was doing this to get you or your ancient magic back, only time would tell.

The day of your first challenge arrived, and Sebastian hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the night before. He debated not turning up at all, but the idea had made him feel nauseous. He needed to stay close to you throughout this whole thing.

Whether or not he actually watched was still up in the air. He stood behind one of the wooden beams in the audience stands, arms crossed over his chest tightly in hopes of keeping himself from throwing up. When it was announced you were up next, he squeezed his eyes shut and the blood drained from his face. This could be it, these could be your last few moments alive. He could hear you start the challenge below and sweat began to form on his forehead.

“Sebastian, you've got to see this!” Lucan Brattleby shouted to him over the crowd’s cheers.

Sebastian’s head snapped his direction, and he noticed the crowd’s faces. They weren’t biting their nails or covering their eyes in horror, they were ecstatic, brows raised and eyes wide in awe. Sebastian came out from behind the pillar and looked down into the arena below.

A rousing sensation coursed through him as he watched you. You’re glorious. He always knew you were capable and talented. He’d caught glimpses of your skill with a wand when you competed in Crossed Wands or fought side by side on your outings together. But he had never just… watched you. His worry for you in this tournament was fizzling away the more he witnessed you practically dance through this challenge in the arena below. Your footwork was clean, your defensive reflexes quick, and your offensive casts brutal.

He could watch you do this all day.

When the challenge ended, you had placed first with a sweeping victory. He couldn’t help it, he wanted to run to you and congratulate you, tell you how amazing you were himself. Even if you only gave him a fleeting glance, even if you ignored him.

His nerves went into a frenzy seeing you come out of the tent. You had spotted him right away, and you seemed genuinely pleased to see him. He was taken aback and thought his heart would burst out of his chest.

You made your way up to him and he stuttered trying to get his words out. “I - I just wanted to come by and tell you -”

“Come here.” He was silenced when you grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He was stunned but quickly shook himself out of it, wrapping his arms around you to keep you on him like this.

You were in complete control of this kiss, and Sebastian had no complaints. Your hands moved to cup his jaw, holding him in a way that you could move his head so his mouth was right where you wanted it at all times. His heart was racing in anticipation while yours raced with adrenaline. His body was turning into a furnace for you. He knew this wasn’t a makeup kiss, this was a passionate, emotions are high kind of kiss. But he’d give it to you all the same, anything you wanted, it was yours.

You had never felt so on top of the world in your life. The sound of the crowd cheering you on so loudly the arena began to shake, completing the first challenge like it was nothing, and taking charge of Sebastian Sallow’s lips, it was all unbelievably intoxicating.

“Thank you.” You said breathily, breaking from him. “For that notebook, it helped more than you know, thank you.”

“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me.” He shook his head, then placed his forehead on yours. “You deserve so much more.”

You stroked his cheek with your thumb, taking in his freckles, soaking in this short moment where you two were close again.

“Can you see yourself coming back to me?” He found himself asking.

You took a moment to answer as you kept your hold on each other. “I don’t know… I still love you. I think I always will. But -” You thought on your words carefully and Sebastian stiffened, tightening his hold on you, afraid of letting you slip away again. “I don’t know if I have anything more to give.”

“I’m not asking you to give anything.” He said quickly, voice just above a whisper. “I don’t care if you never help me with finding a cure again. Just… Please, don’t tear yourself away from me.”

You looked into his eyes, not wanting to break this moment, unsure of what was supposed to happen next. “I need more time.”

He closed his eyes briefly at that answer, then gave a small nod. It wasn’t what he wanted you to say, but there was still hope in it. He’d wait, as long as it took. And he’d continue helping you in this tournament whether you liked it or not.

#sebastian sallow imagine #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley imagine #garreth weasley fanficiton #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt fanficiton #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you

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holdupjack · 1 year ago

Text

I Thought Of You As…

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

WARNING: None

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

Y/n had been wandering around the school grounds for what felt like hours, searching for Hermione after the disastrous confrontation with Ron at the Yule Ball. The air was chilly and the sky was dimly lit, creating an eerie atmosphere that only added to Y/n's growing sense of anxiety and frustration.

With each passing minute, it felt like the chances of finding Hermione were dwindling, and Y/n couldn't help but wonder if she was even still on school grounds. Despite the overwhelming feeling of defeat, Y/n refused to give up and continued her search, determined to find her friend no matter how long it took.

She had disappeared rather quickly. The argument that had taken place near that stairwell could be heard by almost everyone in the vicinity.

The tension was palpable, and it seemed like the discussion had been brewing for a while. Despite Y/n's best efforts to reach her, the other person seemed determined to avoid any further confrontation and left the area swiftly.

Y/n's ears perked up as she heard the sound of soft sniffling coming from a nearby stairway, causing her to pause in her tracks.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she carefully made her way towards the sound, peeking around the corner to see the brunette, still dressed in her delicate pink gown, sitting on the steps with her head in her hands.

The dim light cast a soft glow over the scene and Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the girl.

As their eyes met, she noticed the tell-tale signs of distress on Hermione's face.

"Hey...are you okay?" Y/n asked. Hermione tried to compose herself, but her emotions got the better of her as a fresh wave of tears threatened to spill over.

Quickly wiping her face, she put on a brave smile, attempting to hide her true feelings.

"Not really, no," she says with a chuckle as Y/n walks over and takes a seat beside her, sighing softly.

"I'm sorry, that was a stupid question," Y/n says as they both fall into a comfortable silence. Hermione continued to sniffle and wipe her eyes.

Y/n and Hermione had been friends for a while, and it was no secret that Y/n found the Gryffindor very attractive. It was a playful tease that most of their friends played on her.

Hermione has asked around the subject a few times when she initially found out about the teasing, but Y/n never spoke to her about it. Refused even!

It was obvious that Y/n had no plans of asking her out, so Hermione let it be. Annoyed, but understanding.

She didn't want to make the wrong move or find out that she had misunderstood the entire thing. So, ignorance became her new best friend. But as of recently, she had been having second thoughts about waiting around.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Y/n blurts out, which she didn't plan on by the look on her face.

"Yes, it was the first year, a little way into the first semester," Hermione said with a small smile as she wiped her eyes, looking down at her lap. Her hands played with the fabric of her dress, she felt the tool tickle the pads of her fingers.

"Now, do you remember when Ginny grabbed me by the lake and dropped me into the water in my second year?" Y/n asks with a smile as Hermione starts to laugh. Her mind remembers vividly the look on Y/n's face when she trudged out of the lake.

"Oh god, why did she drop you into it?" she asks, and Y/n just snickers softly as Hermione leans over and chuckles.

"She wanted to see if she could pick me up while on her broom...then she lost her grip while hovering over the lake." Y/n sighed as Hermione continued to giggle at the memory.

"I think you've seen the better part of my most embarrassing moments in this school," Y/n says with a smile as Hermione nods, sniffling again.

"I have more memories with you than Ron and Harry, surprisingly," she says as she takes another deep breath, trying to shake off the hurt in her chest. Y/n scooted a bit closer and placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Men aren't worth crying over," she says with a soft smile, making the brunette chuckle as she leans herself closer to Y/n.

"Why are they jerks then?" Hermione asks with a sigh as Y/n wraps her arm around her shoulders.

"Same reason women cry, emotions," Y/n responds as she watches Hermione stay quiet for a moment, before looking back up at her.

“You’re right," she hums as the smell of cinnamon and vanilla hit Y/n’s nose, making her blink in surprise why the soothing scent,

"Want to go back? I think Viktor is waiting for you" Y/n whispers as her hand falls from her shoulder, but Hermione shakes her head as she stands up and brushes off her dress.

"I’m done for one night...would you like to stay in my room for a while? If you would like to that is" She asks as she looks down at Y/n and straightens her back slightly. Nervousness racked through her spine.

“I’d like that a lot actually” Y/n replies quietly as she stands up, watching Hermione start to grin as they begin their walk up to the Gryffindor tower.

——————

As they made their way up to Hermione’s dorm, Y/n couldn’t help but start to think back on all of the times when she questioned if the girl beside her was even interested in her in a romantic sense.

It was hard to tell.

Or Y/n was blinded by any hints she may have given up until this point?

When they had made it to her dorm, it was surprisingly ten times warmer. Y/n noticed the furnace was still running with no one inside.

“Sorry, Ginny hates coming back to the dorm and it’s freezing. That’s why it’s as hot as the sun in here” Hermione chuckled as she placed her tiara on the desk.

“That’s alright,” Y/n says as she sits down on Hermione’s bed and runs her fingers through her hair. Hermione shuffled around for a moment as she grabbed a dry-cleaning garment bag from her closet.

Y/n looked at her hands, her eyes tracing her finger pads as she heard her name called. She looked up to find the brunette grasping her hair to one side with her back turned towards her.

“Can you unzip me?” She asked and Y/n hummed as she stood up. Her shoes squeaked slightly on the wood slope as she walked over took ahold of the zipper and slowly pulled it down.

Y/n looked past her shoulder to find Hermione already looking back at her through the body mirror that hung between the two beds in front of them.

“Thank you,” Hermione says with a small smile, and Y/n just cleared her throat and nodded, looking away as the zipper reached the end. She backed away and sat back on the bed, in the corner of her eye she could see Hermione walking into the bathroom.

When the door shut, Y/n took a breath and rubbed her face with the palms of her hands in a way to calm herself.

After a few minutes of silence, the door reopened and Hermione stepped out in a loose t-shirt and some shorts. Her hair was brushed out of its former hairstyle and now was free to dangle past her shoulders.

She walked back to the closet and hung up her dress, which was now safely sealed away in the garment bag.

“You're quiet,” Hermione says with a smile as she looks over her shoulder and closes the closet door. Y/n shrugged as she leaned back against Hermione's headboard looking at her with a matching grin.

“I was waiting for you. Would you have liked to hear me talk to myself?” Y/n chuckled as Hermione sat next to her and I looked over. Their eyes met and Hermione hummed in thought for a moment.

“What do you talk about?” she asks as their shoulders touch from the small proximity, due to them trying to stay on the twin-sized bed.

“Cursing the people I hate, how to solve world problems, and sometimes pondering if I could survive a life or death situation,” Y/n said with a smile as Hermione looked at her with fondness.

“Would you survive?”

“God no”

Hermione began to laugh as she bumped her shoulder with Y/n’s, now getting a whiff of her Cologne. It caught her attention. It was a heavenly spiced scent.

Their eyes met again as Hermione slowly calmed down from her laughter, she began to think back on the reason Y/n was teased by their friends.

“Y/n, may I ask you a question?” she asks as their arms lean onto one another. Y/n nodded in response as they both looked away from each other.

“Of course, you never need to ask” Y/n chuckled as she leaned her head back on the headboard.

“Well then, why won't you talk about why our friends tease you?” she asks and Y/n lets out a soft chuckle, then a sigh following after.

“That mind of yours never lets go of impertinent questions” Y/n replied as she said down to lay onto the bed, leaving Hermione to look down at her with a raised eyebrow.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, their eyes darting at all the secrets that were cracking through the facade.

Y/n’s eyes kept their gaze on Hermione’s, even though they were still slightly red and puffy from crying, her eyes still held so many unspoken questions.

"Pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts" Y/n whispers under her breath, making Hermione furrow her eyebrows and hum in confusion.

"What?" She asks with a slight chuckle.

"It's a quote I once heard...when I first heard it, I thought of you" Y/n states simply as she looks up at the ceiling.

"People warned me about becoming friends with one of the people in the ‘golden trio’, but I quite enjoy your company." She says, allowing her eyes to wander the ceiling, noticing the beautiful hand-crafted wood that held up the support beams.

"Many thought I was trying to get on your good side, like somehow I was in it for some prize for the long run" Y/n huffed in annoyance as she unbuttoned her suit jacket and laid her hands behind her head.

"I have no idea why people automatically assume that anyone trying to be your friend is trying to get something out of you. They think of you as an easy target for some reason. A means to a fruitful end...but I thought of you as the..." she stops herself.

"Sorry I don't mean to ramble" Y/n sighed as she took one of her hands and rubbed her forehead with the edge of her palm.

She hears sudden shuffling, Hermione’s eyes catch hers again as she hovers over Y/n, her forearms on either side of the girl's head.

"You thought of me as what...?" Hermione whispers, her eyes searching Y/n’s for the unspoken answers to her unspoken questions.

Y/n opened her mouth to say something but she was stalled. Her heart pounded rapidly against the white dress shirt that covered her upper body.

Hermione waited patiently, her fingers grasped the fabric of the bedding, showing no signs of moving anytime soon.

The silence between them was loud. Too loud.

"I thought of you as the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with..." Y/n finally whispers back, Hermione stares at her a moment before slowly leaning down, their lips brushing.

"Wanted?" She whispers as her heart pounded.

This was it. She admitted it.

"Want" Y/n mumbled back as Hermione quickly closed the gap between them. The kiss is everything they thought it would be, the feeling of something missing was replaced with excitement of what the future would hold for the two of them.

The girl above her was the past, present, and future.

The girl below her was the reason she breathed now. The reason the world had meaning.

That may sound dramatic if they were to utter those words to their friends, but it was the truth in their minds.

That’s all that mattered.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #fanfic #fluff

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zahmaddog · 23 days ago

Text

V. The Best of Us

Closure Series

SFW | Crosshair x fem!reader

I. Nightmares of Eriadu , II. Going Home , III. Familiar Face, IV. Treasure Found

Warnings: SFW Romance between Crosshair x fem!reader, grief, heart to hearts between brothers

Characters involved: Crosshair x fem!reader x Hunter x Phee x Wrecker x Omega x Tech

Word Count: 3143

< I am behind on making art for this... I just have the highest expectations and have trashed so many drawings/paintings. I'll lower my standards. I love the visuals going on in my head, so sorry I'm selfish at the moment. ;) > Here's Hunter lost in thought for now.

After landing on Pabu, Omega reunited with the squad aboard Phee’s ship. Without alerting the town that Tech had returned, they stayed quietly aboard Phee’s ship on the beach.

“Tech?” Omega approaches slowly.

“Why does everyone insist that is my name?” He bluntly responds while sitting up.

“Because —- it’s the name Wrecker gave you,” Omega confesses.

“And who is that?” Tech rubbed his head.

“ME,”Wrecker raised his hand. “Your brother.”

“Don’t you remember?” Omega held out her datapad that displayed a picture of Clone Force 99 during the war against the Separatists.

Tech, still rubbing his head, took the pad from Omega and inspected the picture. He stopped rubbing his head to touch the screen as he recognized himself. His heel ceased tapping on the ground.

“Ring any bells?” Phee interrupts. “It’s clear to me that whatever was is no longer,” Tech slowly begins as he compares the photo to everyone’s current clothing and physical state. “You’ve put on weight,” he says to Hunter, “You’ve let yourself go,” he directs to Crosshair, “You’re insultingly static,” he mutters to Wrecker. “Hey!” Wrecker yells. “This one is absent,” he points to Echo, “And — “ he pauses with a finger to his image once more and squints a little, “It appears I once wore goggles — ”

Omega carefully takes Tech’s cracked and smashed goggles from her satchel and offers them back.

“We thought you were dead,” Omega discloses. Tech’s shoulders drop as he receives them. As he examines them, he takes a hand to his lost eye as he studies the completely smashed through left lens.

“Perhaps it would have been best if I stayed dead,” Tech deadpans.

“Why is that?” Omega is taken back.

“I have no recollection of you,” he sighs. “Surely that comes as a shock and disappointment to all of you.”

“You must have gaps in memory,” Crosshair interjects.

“Well yes, of course. But the lapses in memory never affected my plans for the future, so there was no need to dwell on the past,” Tech reports.

“Until now,” Phee leans in. “Don’t you want to remember, Brown Eyes?”

Tech couldn’t maintain eye contact with Phee for long and shrinks into his seat, letting his gaze fall back to the datapad. Tech wasn’t sure how to feel or rather, couldn’t collect his thoughts long enough to discern the storm brewing subconsciously. Not knowing how to ask the room for space, he drops the data pad, stows the goggles in a pocket, and stands abruptly. He fumbles past Omega and his brothers in search of the door. You hear Phee sigh and unlatch the door before he has to ask.

“Thank you,” Tech breathes and descends the ramp into the sand of Pabu’s beach. The squad rushes to the door to watch as Tech begins to pace in the sand, rubbing his eyes and head.

“It was wrong to bring him here,” Hunter worries.

“Give him time, Hunter,” Crosshair insists.

“What if he never remembers?” Omega sits down on the stairs of the ship’s ramp as she watches Tech continue to draw a line in the sand from his pacing. You squeeze past Wrecker and sit down on the ramp next to Omega.

“If he doesn’t remember, then there’s two possibilities: you either drift apart or you establish a new relationship,” you try to comfort. “He seems to have his core values in place; and after getting to know you all over the years, I know you don’t give up on family.”

“Well, not all of us,” Crosshair side-eyes Hunter.

Hunter brushed past Crosshair and stepped over you and Omega. Wrecker follows Hunter as they both descend the ramp to the beach. Wrecker sits in the sand to watch Tech as Hunter walks to Tech.

“You started that one,” Omega disappointedly mentions to Crosshair.

“You gotta ease up on him, babe,” you peer behind Omega to lock eyes with him.

“Hmm,” Crosshair grunts a little. You send a soft wink and soft smile his way. Despite how you hadn’t left his side all week, the commotion, family business, blaster fights, left you missing him. His shell breaks for a moment as his eyes sadden and mouth purses.

“You’re still his brother and he’s — right there; alive,” you assure Omega again. “And you’re better than me, kid. I just left my brother on Eriadu without thinking twice. I don’t even know if it’s what he wanted, but I never truthfully asked.” You give Omega’s shoulder a friendly squeeze as you stand and ascend the ramp back to Crosshair and Phee.

Running your hands up Crosshair’s arms, you lay your head on his chest. You watch Hunter together on the beach as he tries to slow Tech’s racing thoughts down; something that Crosshair knew never worked in the past. Tech continues to pace while Hunter’s hands motion him to slow down. Tech must have said something quick and brutal because seconds later he joined Wrecker to sit in the sand.

“That went well,” Crosshair mutters.

“Like you could do better,” Phee instigates.

Crosshair kisses your forehead, “I’ll be back.” He lets his hands slide down your back as he releases you from his embrace and he walks down the ramp with a quiet confidence.

“Get up, Hunter” Crosshair extends his hand to Hunter as he sits in the dirt. “We’re not done yet.”

Hunter exhales sharply and tosses his hand to Crosshair; which Crosshair grabs and lifts him from the ground.

“All right, what’s our plan, Commander,” Hunter sarcastically relays to Crosshair.

“I’m still working on that,” Crosshair breathes. “Wrecker, you’re welcome to come too, but I don’t think I can lift you off the ground.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not as big as I used to be,” Wrecker laughs as he stands.

The three begin to walk towards Tech, who is still pacing, talking to himself, and rubbing his head. You weren’t sure what it would look like to split your soul in half, but it couldn’t be too different from this.

“Captain Solomon!” You hear Crosshair yell for the first time in years.

Tech stops in his tracks with his back to the three clones and sighs, “If you’re going to ask me if I remember anything again, I haven’t.” He turns in anger, causing the three clones to halt. Tech’s glare is intense. His shoulders forward like he’s ready to pounce and tear into anyone who touches him. Hunter takes a step back out of instinct. Wrecker stands his ground. Crosshair steps forward and extends his hand.

“Can we start over?” Crosshair asks. “My name is Crosshair. I shared a bunk across from you for about a decade.”

Tech’s expression focuses on Crosshair, as if he expected more from the non-conversationalist.

Crosshair sighs, “I’ve listened to you talk about everything under the stars, so I never thought I could miss your voice.” Tech rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to banter back, but Crosshair continues, “But I found myself listening for it each time I wanted to know more about a star system or geological anomaly. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Tech drops his shoulders and moves to just standing and looking at him.

“You are the smartest of us all,” Crosshair shrugs, “And the bravest. The best of us. You may not remember us, but we could never forget you.” His words carried weight and truth. Tech believed him.

“Who are you now?” Hunter asks Tech as he rejoins Crosshair’s side.

Tech examines the three clones and begins, “My name is Solomon and I’m a pirate of the outer rim. I wanted to believe that’s all I was.” He rubs his head and pinches his eyebrows together with his fingertips. “The mystery of my origins were overshadowed by my curiosity of the galaxy.” He took a few steps forward and closed the gap between himself and his brothers. “Whomever I was and the possibilities that once were no longer exist if my memory is not sustainable. It is clear to me that we share the same biological fabric as our faces, voices, and even mannerisms are strikingly similar. But I cannot stay based on that alone.” He sighs deeply and holds his silence in contemplation a moment longer, “My crew needs me.”

Crosshair’s eyebrows furrowed, “I can respect that.”

“Then we’ll take you back to your crew,” Hunter aides.

“Uh, we should probably tell him we blew up half of his crew,” Wrecker interjects somewhat quietly. Hunter swiftly elbows Wrecker.

“You what?!” Tech was back to looking like he was ready for a fight.

Crosshair forcefully slapped his hands over his eyes and sighed, “Meet Wrecker, the brother you argued with most.”

“We may have had some trouble extracting you,” Hunter confesses. He turns his attention towards Wrecker, “But our blasters were set to stun!”

“Well, I didn’t know that! I was carrying him!” Wrecker exclaims.

Through his teeth, Tech seethes while trying to remain calm, “Well, I appreciate the offer. Let’s go.”

“Can we still invite you to celebrate holidays and our birthday?” Wrecker says to Tech as he brushes past Wrecker. Tech doesn’t respond.

“Well, that went well,” Hunter mocks Crosshair.

“Hmm,” Crosshair grunts. He slides a toothpick into his mouth and watches Tech stomp off back towards the ship. After a few moments of silence, he slyly side-eyes Hunter, “Is this how I made you feel, when I elected to stay with the Empire?”

Hunter releases the breath he didn’t realize he held as he watched Tech storm off again, “I didn’t want to leave you behind. Ask Omega or Wrecker, it weighed heavily on me for years.” He met Crosshair’s gaze, “I understand now that you needed to be a soldier to survive and have purpose: You needed the Empire more than it needed you.”

“Hmm,” Crosshair’s eyes widen with the heavy realization of Hunter’s spoken truth.

“But I should have made more of an effort to — ,” Hunter loses his words.

“To what?” Crosshair takes his toothpick from his lips.

“To let you know we needed you,” Hunter admits. “Even if you thought you didn’t need us.”

Crosshair’s eyebrows lift in surprise to Hunter’s words, but stays silent.

“But Tech living as a pirate is different,” Hunter continues, “He built an entire identity from scratch. He enjoyed his freedom so much that he didn’t even care to look for us, despite knowing he had a past.”

“Was it freedom or survival?” Crosshair questions.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Wrecker nods.

Hunter raises his voice a little to call out in hopes that Tech could hear him yards away, “If you ever feel like you don’t belong, find us.”

“There’s no way he heard that, Sarge,” Crosshair snickers. “He’s way too far out now. Yep, he’s climbing the ramp; didn’t even glance back. Getting back into the ship now. Probably complaining about the smell. You missed your chance.” “Shut up, Crosshair,” Hunter demands.

_________________________________

Back in Phee’s ship, Phee was silently coming to terms that the squad unanimously agreed to drop Tech back with his crew to resume pirating in the outer rim. You could sense she didn’t want to argue, but she wasn’t one to easily let go of found treasure. Omega was satisfied knowing he was at least alive and didn’t apply too much pressure for him to stay.

“Did you at least try them on?” Omega says to Tech as he hands her the goggles back. “No, they are broken,” Tech shoots back.

“Just try them,” she insists, pressing them back into Tech’s hand. “I see you’re squinting to make things come into focus. You used to be a phenomenal pilot, I can’t imagine you are one now without them.” Omega teases.

“I am a phenomenal pilot. I just need my helmet to see,” He turns to Wrecker, “Which you left my helmet on Agomar when you senselessly carried me away.”

Omega presses the goggles into his hand once more, Tech wraps his fingers around them in acceptance. He lets them float in the air between his fingers for a moment, then with the spirit of revival, he lifts them over his head.

You could see in his expression that the perfect fit disappointed him; as if he didn’t want this reality to become anymore real.

“Happy?” Tech stammers.

“You can keep them, if you’d like,” Omega replies. Her expression is soft as she admires her brother adoringing his iconic eyewear once more.

“I’ll consider keeping them on until we return to Agomar,” Tech expressed.

“Just like that, you want to go back?” Phee asks, heartbroken. “You’re not even curious about your old life?”

“I have responsibilities to attend to,” Tech informs.

“Always the soldier first, aren’t you? Some things never change,” Phee sighs. “We’ll take off shortly.” You sat back on Crosshair’s bunk in silence watching everything unfold. You felt exhausted, unshowered, and unsure that returning to Agomar would be safe. You were home on Pabu for the next few moments; you could slip out hardly unnoticed and take a long shower at home. You might receive a message from Crosshair once he realizes you were missing, but he was rather distracted with family. How could he not be?

You reminisce back on seeing Crix just a few days prior. Did he have a choice in staying in the Empire? How could you be sure? Would you do the same for him that Crosshair would do for Tech? Should you have forced Crix to leave Eriadu like Crosshair forced Tech away from his crew? You decided to escape Phee’s ship with your thoughts before take off.

You gathered your helmet and extra clothes into your bag, then tip-toed towards the door. You feel a cold metal hand grab your arm.

“Abandoning me?” Crosshair croons quietly under the on-going conversation between Tech and Omega.

“Tech complained that the ship smelled and it’s probably me,” you say and let your nose scrunch up. “I should go home. You know, shower, sleep — get back to doing nothing,” you lie.

“Tech thinks everything smells,” Crosshair chuckles. “And it’s probably Hunter’s thermal detonating ration bar gas,” he lowers his voice.

You laugh a little louder than you should have for the family moments unfolding on the ship. Hunter eyes you and Tech turns towards you.

“And who are you?” Tech finally addresses you.

“I’m nobody,” you disclose. “I’m just a stowaway that keeps your brother Crosshair company and safe from — ”

“She’s my everything,” Crosshair talks over you as you were in a self-depreciating mood. He relays your name and begins filling Tech in on your past here and there. Tech’s eye widens when Crosshair mentions you’re a Tarkin. Crosshair notices the change in his expression.

“What is it?” Crosshair asks.

“I remember Tarkin,” Tech confesses. “Actually, he’s the first thing I remember.” As if he were just hit in the head with a hammer, Tech grabs his head and stumbles back a few feet. “Sorry, I seemed to have lost my balance,” he says, catching himself on the middle holomap console. He slowly sits himself down on the leather couch.

Omega, Hunter, Phee, Wrecker, Crosshair and yourself gather around him. Omega rushes to check his vitals, which Tech waves her off with his hand to assure her he was okay.

“What do you remember?” Hunter asks.

“I awoke in his compound as a prisoner. He questioned and tortured me for weeks about presumably your where-abouts,” he motions to his clone brothers with his hand, “But I couldn’t remember anything.” He gathers his thoughts and resumes, “The only evidence of my identity was surmised through officers questioning me. I gathered I was a ‘clone,’ an imperial deserter, and that I had infiltrated Tarkin’s compound with the assistance of other clones. I was scheduled for termination for not cooperating. But instead, a young soldier released me into the jungle as he explained to me that he ‘didn’t want to kill anyone’, ” Tech explains.

You immediately realize that the young soldier was most likely Crix. Had he served Governor Tarkin personally for that long? You counted the years and realized it made sense. You shook off the chills that sent goosebumps down your spine; you had been away from home for so long at this point.

“How did you get off end up a pirate?” Hunter asks.

“I found my way into town and began working in the mines the Empire re-opened. I suppose one thing led to another, and soon I was running an underground crime syndicate underneath the Empire’s nose.” Tech remembers.

“You found a way to survive,” Crosshair implies and eyes Hunter.

“Yes,” Tech agrees. “I did what I could to carry on.”

“Like you always do,” Omega adds.

Tech nods at Omega, “I would suppose so.” He leans back into the bench and sweeps his gaze across his brothers. “Perhaps we can gather once a year to celebrate our birthday after all,” he mutters.

“Good,” Crosshair nods as he throws your items back on his bunk. “Because tortured brothers get more cake.”

____________________

The hum and comfort of hyperspace was nearly lulling you to sleep, had it not been for Tech’s endless talking. Resting your head on Crosshair’s shoulder, you lay on the bunk facing the ongoing conversation in the bay of the ship, while Crosshair faced the ceiling.

Omega was soaking up the conversation with her long lost brother and sharing her latest experiences with the rebellion. In return, he chatted about his pirate affairs, crew members he looked after, his run-ins with the Empire, and his technical modifications to his giant cargo ship. Wrecker’s roaring laughter in between spoken anecdotes would surprise you; causing you to occasionally open your eyes.

Hunter watched in silence, leaned up against a wall with a proud grin across his face. You realized you missed how much he smiles when Omega is around. Phee listened and interjected fun comments and anecdotes from her life every now and then. Tech was intrigued by her abilities and pirating stories. You had heard from Crosshair that Tech would never run out of discussion, but witnessing it firsthand really surprised you. He really could talk about anything in-depth and barely leave room for another to get a word in.

Your attention turns back to Crosshair as you notice he was also lying awake with his eyes closed. His breathing usually changed when he was asleep. You rotate into him and wrap your free arm around him to hug him.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers to you without shifting in the bunk.

“Tech ranting about weather systems of uninhabited planets?” You softly laugh.

“Yes,” Crosshair sighs. “Even if he doesn’t want to stay with us… This has been nice.”

“Do you want to join them?” You ask, shifting a little.

“No, no,” Crosshair vocalizes and cradles you into his chest more, “I’d probably ruin it.”

________________________________________________

Part VI: The Bounty

_________________________________________________

Taglist:

@heidnspeak @cloneflo99 @megmegalodondon @tentakelspektakel @maniacalbooper @thebadbatch2022

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb star wars #tbb crosshair #star wars #the bad batch crosshair #tbb omega #tbb hunter #crosshair x fem!reader #tbb wrecker #tbb phee #tbb tech #tech lives

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itsyagurlchip · 3 months ago

Text

☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Calvitium Turturem☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ᯓᡣ𐭩warnings: this is absolute crack(!) cussing (!) just gross stuff(!) its mostly dialogue(!)

ᯓᡣ𐭩This was a spontaneous thought I had, sorry for anyone who reads this. reader at ur own discretion. I lied, it's not a random thought. THIS SHIT HAS BEEN ON MY MIND FOr SO LONG AND I CANT GET IT TO ESCAPE HELP SEND HELP.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 donnie's head is so bald...

"Y/N!?! What the fuck?"

"What?"

"You locked us in the closet!!"

"Yea..."

"..."

"Can I lick your bald head?"

"Bitch wtf?"

"That's the only reason why I locked us in here. What the hell does a bald head taste like?"

"I'm putting you in a mental institution when we get out of here."

"But dude! The possibilities tho!?!"

"You're nasty and insane if you think that I'll allow your slimy tongue to touch my precious cranium. Correction, you are nasty and insane regardless."

"So like....is that a maybe? I could reschedule if you need me too. I mean, I've got a live class in the next hour-" You blabbered on as Donnie grimaced heavily, wondering why Mikey ever became your friend, and why he had to deal with the setbacks.

Just as he was memorizing the numbers of psychiatric hospitals in Australia, he felt something wet and warm, smack dab at the top of his head. He yelped before swiping his head to you, who was hovering over him with a wriggling tongue out and a dumbed out expression. You smiled before siting onto the floor.

"Oddly enough its very smooth, with a salty taste...liek your head wants to grow hair but it can't...

Donnie was about to throw up. The spit that ran down his forehead took an uncomfortable amount of time to reach his snout before beginning its drying process. He slowly turned to you, eyes directed to your throat. His fingers twitched.

You, unknowing of the brewing rage next you, kept on describing the flavor of his bald head as if it were brunch with the girls.

Donnie lunged for your throat, with you jumping out of the closet to run.

"ILL FUCKING KILL YOU"

"nuh uh"

"NUH UH? F U C K Y O U M E A N "NUH UH!??!"

GUYS IM SO FUCKNG SORRY I HAD TO GET THIS OUT LIKE A PARASITE 😭THE THOUGHTS I HATE IT WHEN SLENDERMAN TAKE OVA MY THOUGHTS/gen/srry/gen

😔💔💔

i gotta get back to my schoolwork- ill see yall✌🏾

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა tags: @kittykittyanon @bonefanatic @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა@ziipzeepzop-eez @wheezdostuff @spongejuice @cyb3r-st4r @matteo-hamato

@clown-froggi

if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

#yagurlchip❤️#yagurl writes #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #donnie x reader #crack #its just crack #plss dont take this srsly yall😭#im sorry for the mfs on the taglist

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 1 year ago

Note

Can we get some cute headconons on Jio, Isaac, Jadu (he is slowly growing on me) and Lance accidentally blurting out the L word to their crush aka farmer in like a very random time 🤧

L word? *searching "L word meaning"*

Oh! You mean 'love'? Yay, fluff! Thanks so much for the ask and enjoy!

Isaac:

The fact that Isaac had stopped chasing the Farmer away from him meant a grand gesture on his part.

The chaotic and charming Farmer had managed to break through the first line of defense to the cold adventurer's heart, and they became friends.

Isaac studied them for a long time, out of curiosity, and didn't notice how he managed to fall in love with them. Though he'd tried to deny it at first.

They never interrupted him, never gave him trash, but rather useful things for adventures. They knew the value of honor, always trying their best to protect the Valley and even the Castle Village.

And yet Isaac couldn't admit his feelings. Not because he didn't trust them, but because deep down he was afraid of rejection.

Only he was so engrossed in Farmer's story about their recent adventures that he didn't realize that he had quietly said to them: "I love you."

The realization after the words were spoken hit him instantly.

"Huh? What did you say?"

"I said I'll blow you!" Yoba, that's even worse...

"Wha-"

"Go to hell!" Isaac yelled at the farmer and walked off in the opposite direction from them. His cheeks were as red as a ripe tomato.

The next day he apologizes for the incident. Isaac will be numb if Farmer says they also loves him.

Jadu:

Oh, no. No no no no. Whyyyy?

To smash a whole crate of potions for the guild in Stardew Valley!

He's been brewing them for a week, and because of a stupid rock he tripped over - all the potions are on the ground, broken! And right almost near the guild's doorstep. Ugh...

Even worse, the Farmer he'd been secretly in love with for the past four months was nearby, and must have seen everything. Now they would consider Jadu a total loser.

But instead, Farmer walked up to him, looking anxiously at his hands.

What? Oh, right. He cut himself a bit over the glass of the broken bottles, but that's nothing. However, Farmer insisted on treating the wound, and began bandaging Jadu's hands with bandages.

Such a gentle and careful touch.... And Farmer is so caring....

"I love you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Jadu's silly smile immediately slid away when he realized what he had said to them.

"Jadu, did you accidentally hit your head in the fall?" The Farmer asked worriedly.

"I hit my head four months ago now, that's for sure."

Lance:

Apparently, Farmer took the phrase "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" very seriously. Whether in friendship or in love, this phrase is equally effective.

Think about it: you're standing at the post office somewhere in a forgotten part of the world that can safely be called Hell, you're hungry, and your friend appears out of nowhere and brings you your most favorite food.

Lo and behold, a relentless fortress named "Lance" has also been conquered.

The gallant pink-haired adventurer had been very interested in the mystical farmer since their very first meeting. But he never imagined that after their adventures together, Lance would have a crush on them.

They both sat watching Crimson Baldlans, eating the most delicious tropical curry Lance had ever tasted in his life. Talking about monsters and adventures for over an hour. Their first meeting, sighting in the Highlands, meeting The First Slash.... So many fond memories in that short time....

"I love you..." It was a good thing Lance happened to say that phrase quietly enough, as Farmer didn't hear them.

"Hm? Did you say something Lance?"

He coughed, quickly corrected himself. "Ah, I said I love your cooking. The curry was wonderful. Thank you, my friend."

The Farmer smiled broadly, Lance melting every time he saw their beautiful smile.

Maybe he should take the first step soon to move to a new level of relationship, more than friendship. But not tonight, tonight they would just enjoy each other's company and food.

Jio:

Have mercy, forest spirits! He's even worse than Isaac...

He was a master of caution, he was hiding all these strange incomprehensible feelings that had begun to manifest after all those adventures in Spirit Realm with Farmer. Jio couldn't understand what it was.

"It's called love, silly!" "Shut up, Daia."

Love? Pfft, absurd! Jio even laughed at this silly idea.

Truth be told, when he and Farmer were in Ridge Forest at night, in such a magical place where Farmer looks especially beautiful, Jio still accidentally said something that had been tormenting him for a long time. "I love you."

Farmer.exe and Jio.exe stopped working.

"What did you say?"

"DIE!" Jio turned into a mist and disappeared from Farmer's sight. The fuck was that?...

The elf afterward would think that Farmer was using some kind of enchantment that made Jio behave like that.

"Silly old Jio, you just fell in love with Farmer! You need to talk to them" "Shut up, Daia."

But his friend is right about something: he needs to apologize for being rude at the very least.

#sve #stardew valley expanded #sdv #stardew valley #sve lance #sve jadu #sve isaac #rsv jio #ridgeside village #rsv #thanks for the ask!

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persphonesorchid · 1 month ago

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Mark Of The Arcane || Chapter Five ||

↣ Summary; Centuries before, in the times of the ancient Kings, a prophecy was heard. When the three kingdoms of Valerem fall to ruins, their saviour would come in blinding starlight. Who is this saviour, you may ask? None other than Min Yoongi, who was too busy being late to work to realize he definitely wasn’t on earth anymore.

↣ Part: Chapter Five: Yoongi vs The Force

↣Word count: 7.4k

↣Warnings: Namjoon scares the shit out of everyone, Seokjin is uh...mean...(but he'll get better soon!) Mention of off-screen character death. I think that's all! :)

Chapter Archive | Masterlist

Notes: Okay so this took forever, i'm so sorry! But I'm back with a new chapter! Lots happening here! And Tae's here :)) I hope you guys enjoy it despite the wait! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think!! Love yall ❤️

You follow behind your father’s guard, watching the way his cloak sways with his steps. You’re a little worried about leaving Yoongi with Seokjin, you’re aware that he isn’t very fond of him, whatever his reasons for that are. You just hope they’d get along well and long enough for you to meet with your father and return.

“Do you know why my father sent for me?” You ask, your voice bouncing along the walls as you enter a stairwell. The guard’s steps are soundless as he takes them, and it reminds you of the skill it must take for them to protect the king.

The guard glances back at you as he places his palm on a mahogany door and pushes, letting you go through it first. “I don’t, Highness. Though, it may have something to do with the festival.”

You smile at the lisp in his words, the edge taken off him and softens his visage to you. The King’s guards are known for their stoicism and the fierceness in which they protect the king, but there are little things that remind you that they’re just people.

You nod as he resumes his pace in front of you. “Would your mother be attending?”

“She never misses it, Highness.” You could see the lift of his cheeks under his mask and the way his eyes squished, his gaze soft in the morning light.

You’re surprised your father hadn’t called on you earlier to discuss the festival, with it being your turn this year to do the rites. The Arcane Awakening Festival was an annual celebration of the royal family’s heritage and The First of their wielding, Incra. There was so much to do in the coming weeks, but so much has been happening beyond the walls of your kingdom you’ve hardly been able to focus on it. You hardly think it’s time to have a celebration in the first place.

The buzz may have died down about the siege of Daasir, folks moving on as though people hadn’t been killed and had their livelihoods disrupted, but you remember. You suppose, because it has nothing to do with them, it was easy to let it slip from their minds. Daasir was a good day away, but regardless, on the doorstep of your kingdom. They deserve as much courtesy as any other folk that reside in the capital.

Your father knew of it, and you’re pretty certain the other kingdoms know of it as well. Something was brewing and it wasn’t at all a good thing.

You enter the King’s Hall, tapestries of navy blue and silver line the walls and run along the floor in a thick rug. Your escort stops at the entrance, opening the door for you one last time.

“Thank you, Yeosang.” You say politely, dipping your head in a little nod, which he returns quietly. The door shuts behind you and you walk quickly up the hall towards your father’s chambers. You remember as a child you would chase the sun spots here, they shine down through the windows in the high walls, bright and warm.

Your father’s quarters were on the opposite side of the castle, an unnecessary way away from the throne room in the main part of the castle, and as you’ve complained as a child, too far from yours. Sometimes, you could go days without ever seeing your father’s face, as when he’s too busy, he would take his meals in his chambers. Most of his official business happens in the Court of Houses, where he handles the political things that come with running a kingdom. When he’s not too busy, you would sometimes have breakfast with him in the private dining hall.

The last time you saw him was the night you had dinner in the hall and told him of Yoongi.

You stop at his door and knock gently and only enter when his voice calls.

Your father looks tired. There’s a darkness under his eyes that wasn’t there the last time you saw him, and you’re pretty certain he’s gone more grey in his beard and the streaks of his hair.

The King’s quarters consists of three rooms. The main room in the entrance, which acts as an office when meeting with official people unofficially. The large window directly behind him sprinkles his visage in a soft morning glow, the sun isn’t yet on that side of the castle to let the light in. There are shelves of books and tomes and things he’s never let you get close to, and the large table he keeps his things on in a state of organized chaos.

Behind a door between the bookshelves are his bedroom, and beyond that, a room you’ve never been allowed to enter. Your father barely looks up from what he’s reading, a feathered quill in his left hand as he scribbles away onto another piece of parchment.

You would like to think that the shadows of his face come from thinking too hard, looking for solutions to stop the war that is likely brewing on your doorstep. Of course, crime isn’t non-existent, it happens, it’s always no more than a man avoiding his taxes or something miniscule. Never on that scale, never something like that.

Yoongi’s arrival should have spurred some kind of worry in your father at least, but when you told him how he’d ended up here and his arcane, he’d simply stared at you blankly, like he was suddenly somewhere else.

You stand quietly and wait until he’s done, eyes roaming over the portrait of your mother that’s hung on the wall. Despite its position and years of taking in the sun, the colours remain vibrant: the blue of her dress and the accents of it in her jewelry, the gentle smile on her lips. A much younger version of your father stands next to her, a hand on her shoulder and the other behind his back, dressed in his regency. He stands tall and the worries of a king had not yet seeped into his visage.

The King finally raises his olive eyes to meet yours, a gentle smile lifting his bearded cheeks.

“Ah, Dearest.” He pushes back his chair to stand, rounding the table to take your hand and give it a light squeeze. “Have you had breakfast?”

Admittedly, you hadn’t. Too excited to meet with Yoongi and show him around this morning, so you shake your head and your father frowns a bit. “That won’t do, little gale.”

You smile fondly at the nickname, and your father links his arm with yours and leads you out of his quarters and back down the hall. Yeosang opens the door before you both reach it, letting you both pass through before bowing at the waist in greeting. Back down the short twirl of stairs and up the hall towards the main part of the castle.

You cast a glance back down the hall where you’d left Yoongi and Seokjin earlier, but follow on towards the private dining room with your father.

“How is the boy?”

The question startles you, not expecting anything but talk of the festival from him.

“He’s alright. Adjusting.” You answer and your father hums and says nothing more of it. He releases your arm to push the door open, a hand against your back gently ushering you in. The table is already laden with food and drink, and you take a seat as your father pulls a chair out for you. It’s quiet as you both set your plates, you help yourself to scrambled eggs and crispy toast glazed in honey and two sweet eclipse berry tarts – ignoring the disapproving look from your father.

Your father fills his plate with sandwiches, thickly sliced meat spilling out of it, and you giggle softly at the boyish way he stuffs nearly half of it into his mouth. He chews slowly and you wonder if he’s getting it all with the big bite he took, he passes you a meat pie and a steaming cup of tea.

You couldn’t nearly have a go at everything on the table, even if the spread today looks to be most of your favorites. At least, you know that it wouldn’t be wasted, anything uneaten would go back to the kitchens and be divided among the servants if they wanted it. You eat quietly, and you’re licking honey glaze off your finger when your father clears his throat and sets his tea down.

“Y/n, we have quite a bit to discuss.” He purses his lips at you trying to catch the honey sliding into your palm from the toast and you’re reminded of yourself and set the toast down. He narrows his eyes just a bit, though you could see the amusement in his eyes. “The festival approaches, you’re preparing to do the rites this year, aren’t you?”

“Yes Father.”

Your father nods sagely, and you know secretly he’s happy he doesn’t have to do it.

Preparing for the rites is mostly you meeting with the elder scholars and going over what must be said and how it must be said on the night of the festival, as well as learning a special stepped dance that you must do before saying anything at all. It’s quite tedious.

“There is a chance that Lady Aurelia would be here as well – small chance – but we should be prepared for it nonetheless.” You nod along, dusting the flakes of the tart off your fingers, “Lumina is far away, if she does come for the festival , she would likely be here a day or two before it.”

Everyone is usually invited to the festival, though, you’ve never seen the Queen of the pixies in attendance.

As the King goes off into listing protocols for the day, you cut him off as politely as you can. As much as you’d love to sit and discuss it, the festival is some good weeks away, near a month, and there are more pressing things that could be talked about right now. “Father...”

“Yes?” He pauses, brows raised.

“About what happened at Daasir...”

Your father’s eyes darken, “What happened isn’t any concern of yours.”

“Father, it’s my concern as much as it is any one else’s. They’re my people too.” You fire back and watch as all your father’s patience drain out of him with the sigh he lets out. The hand on the table visible to you curls around the thumb, and he looks away, staring off into space for a moment. With him quiet, you continue on.

“I don’t understand why you’re trying to sweep it under the rug and act like it never happened. People have died, the prophecy is unfolding and you’re worried about the festival --!”

“Y/n!” Your father’s fist comes down on the table, rattling the dishes and rendering you silent. “Enough.”

A muscle under your eye twitches, and you fight the urge to defy him. So you sit and stew in your anger, holding his hardened gaze with your own.

“It does not concern you. I will not be having this conversation again.” He stares you down until you break his gaze, turning your head to stare across the room. “Continue your preparations for the festival. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You say softly, and it’s quiet for a moment. You know he hates it when you use his title, but you’re angry at the way it’s so easy for him to toss urgent matters aside. “Am I dismissed?”

He doesn’t answer and when you turn he’s already staring at you, looking fed up with your antics for the morning, but there’s something sad in his eyes that you’ll feel guilty for later. Perhaps when you’re older you’ll understand his plight as a King and father, but for now, you repeat your question and he sighs, waving a hand at you. You push your chair back, not bothering to tuck it back under the table before walking swiftly out of the room.

You walk down the hallway, grumbling to yourself all the way until you get through the little walkway that leads to the training courtyard. You go past the giant – ancient – oak tree near the entrance and round the wall just in time to Seokjin toss Yoongi over his shoulder.

“Do you know how to hold a sword?” Seokjin asks as Yoongi follows him out into the blinding sunlight in the open courtyard. It seems to be a private training ground with nothing but the thick cobblestone wall that runs along the perimeter of the castle.

A large oak tree sits at the center, it’s really an odd thing and Yoongi wasn’t expecting to see it there, the dirt it’s raised in is surrounded by large stones that have funny markings etched into them. Some roots peak out of the dirt, rising above the ground before it dips back under, and Yoongi wonders how far and deep they run. In the ground around it, there are cracks and little blades of grass prevailing through the stone.

On one far side of the courtyard is a weapons rack, they look to be for training purposes only, made out of wood, some of which are freshly polished and some are worn by use. They ranged from long swords to short blades, staffs that lean in a bundle against the wall, lances and shields.

The other is a space split into two, one with dummies made of straw and wood, battered and bruised by the weather and use. The other is a space marked out by painted lines that – to Yoongi – looks like a Pokémon battlefield. There are stone benches against the fall facing it, which are probably for spectating.

Seokjin unclasps his cloak, the material loosening from his shoulders with a little click, and Yoongi feels something like fear shoot up from his legs.

“What are you doing?” He asks, taking a half step back from the other man.

Seokjin smiles in a way that doesn’t actually ease Yoongi, but sends a nervous laugh bubbling up his throat in response.

Instead of answering his question, Seokjin folds his cloak neatly and sets it on one of the benches, and unstraps the buckle that holds his sword to his hip. “Can you hold a sword?”

“No?” While Yoongi can hold a knife, he can bet it’s an entirely different story holding a sword.

Seokjin nods, a look that shows that he expected that, but at the same time is unimpressed by Yoongi’s lack of defensive capability. Yoongi feels slightly offended.

“You can throw a punch then, right?” Seokjin rolls the sleeves of his tunic up his arms, “Know how to defend yourself?”

Yoongi nods and before he could confirm with his voice, Seokjin is moving faster than he could see him. He stumbles a couple of steps back as Seokjin closes in, barely lifting his arm to block the swing of the other man’s fist. The force and surprise of it has Yoongi tripping over his own feet and falling back on his ass with a grunt.

Seokjin sighs, looking down his nose at him.

Yoongi glares, “The hell’s your problem?” His arm throbs, and no doubt it will bruise later.

“Do you think that because your being here was foretold, someone would be around to protect you?” Seokjin tilts his head, and the little flicker of hope that Yoongi had this morning that he could possibly be civil with the guy smoked out. “You know what your prophecy says, don’t you?”

Slowly, Yoongi gets to his feet, still glaring, jaw clenched as he nods.

“Good, then you know that things are less than ideal. Learning the workings of your arcane isn’t the only thing you need to learn.” Seokjin takes a couple of steps back, “Your arcane is volatile, you need to learn how to protect yourself without it until you learn how to control it. Her Highness asked me to help you in that regard, so I need to assess you.”

Yoongi knows he’s right, there are ways to do things, though. Like maybe telling him all that before he charges at him like a madman.

“You’re quick to block, so that’s good.” Seokjin widens his stance and then waves a hand at Yoongi, “Hit me.”

“Huh?”

“You said you can throw a punch; hit me.”

Yoongi’s no professional fighter, but he can hold his own if he needs to – not that he ever had the reason to. Seokjin is intimidating standing as he is, clearly more knowledgeable than he is in the art of defense and offense. Yoongi tries not to let it show that he knows he’s going to be getting his ass handed to him wrapped and tied with a bow every time, as he copies Seokjin’s stance. Legs shoulder width apart, one foot just slightly in front of the other, arms up. He doesn’t miss the quick glance Seokjin gives or the near quiet huff of a laugh through his nose.

He swings a fist, and realizes his mistake afterwards, when all Seokjin has to do is lean slightly to the side with more grace than Yoongi believes he’d ever possess, and jab a swift hand at his ribs. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise, but it aches nonetheless, and Yoongi still staggers back.

Seokjin rights himself as Yoongi does, humming softly to himself in secret assessment. “Again.”

Yoongi tries again, after getting a moment to remove his cloak, too, and the result is the same, and despite the little chuckle that feels condescending, Seokjin seems to be taking his task seriously. This goes on for a while, with Yoongi throwing punches and Seokjin expertly avoiding them, while no doubt making mental notes, and Yoongi is quickly growing frustrated.

By the time Yoongi’s had it up to here with being on the defense, he’s panting and the tunic he wears is sticking to his back uncomfortably. Seokjin hasn’t broken a sweat, looking like the definition of put together and composed and that’s entirely unfair.

“Are you sure you know how to throw a punch? You’re not even standing correctly.” Seokjin points a slightly crooked finger at Yoongi’s feet.

Seokjin might as well be training Yoongi to consider him his enemy because when he looks down, Seokjin darts forward again. Yoongi dodges and swings, and Seokjin easily counters by grabbing his arm and using his momentum against him.

There’s a rush of wind in Yoongi’s ears, the world blurs and then he’s staring at the blue sky. He lays there, catching his breath that was knocked out of him – trying not to pass out – and there’s a small sound from across the yard.

“Seokjin!” You rush over and Yoongi could see Seokjin roll his eyes, your form blocks out the sun that’s climbed higher in the sky and it makes you glow. The light weaves its way through your hair and dances along the outline of you, and Yoongi feels like he could reach out and grab it.

“Are you okay?” You ask, and Yoongi’s sure he’s red in the cheeks and he could only offer a thumbs up.

You straighten up, turning to Seokjin fiercely, “Jin what is wrong with y—”

“I was assessing his skill!” Seokjin defends quickly and you swat at his arm.

“That’s not what I saw!”

“Why would I just attack him?” Seokjin points a whole hand at Yoongi, who now was just laying on the ground, staring up at the sky like his soul is minutes from leaving this plane. “I was clearly on the defense!”

Yeah, right...

Yoongi sits up and dusts off his hands and he tries not to glare at Seokjin when the man offers a hand to help him stand. In your presence, Seokjin’s mood made a full one-eighty, suddenly acting as what Yoongi assumes is his usual self.

Seokjin gives him a once over, “Regardless, when I’m done you won’t have to worry.”

Yoongi isn’t excited to know what that means.

Later, Yoongi sits on the stone bench, feeling the coolness of the stone seep through his trousers as he leans back against the wall behind him. The shade of the oak tree offers him a small refuge from the midday sun, the dappled light casting shifting patterns across his lap. A gentle breeze stirs the branches above, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and leaves, but even this moment of calm can’t fully ease the tension coiling in his chest.

“Sorry about Jin,” you murmur, sounding almost sheepish on Seokjin’s behalf. “He can be… intense.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker toward you, his expression neutral, though inside, his thoughts churn. Intense barely scratches the surface. But instead of voicing his unease, he only nods. “It’s alright,” he says, his voice low and steady. He tells himself this is necessary. Seokjin is right, after all. If push comes to shove, he’d be helpless because he has no idea how to control his arcane.

“I have to learn,” he adds quietly, almost as if he’s convincing himself.

You frown, your concern evident in the small crease between your brows. “Yes, but he doesn’t have to be such a brute about it,” you mutter, shaking your head. The irritation in your voice is clear, but Yoongi senses there’s more beneath your frustration. Your eyes flicker with something unspoken, but he doesn’t ask. He wonders what burdens weigh so heavily on a princess’s mind, but this isn’t the time for such questions.

Before the silence can stretch, Seokjin strides over, his cloak settled back over his broad shoulders, the fabric swaying with each step. He hands Yoongi his own cloak without a word, the gesture curt but not unkind.

The quiet is broken by the creak of the courtyard door opening, the sound echoing across the stone. A guard enters, his boots clicking sharply as he approaches. He stops a few paces away, bowing deeply at the waist.

“Your Highness, Prince Namjoon of Kadïr has arrived.”

Yoongi notices your brow furrow, the glance you share with Seokjin loaded with meaning, though it’s a conversation Yoongi is clearly not meant to understand. The door opens once more, and this time, another figure steps through.

The man who approaches exudes a calm, easy confidence. His steps are unhurried, yet there’s something purposeful in the way he carries himself. He’s dressed in deep shades of indigo and pearl white. His hair, dark and tousled, catches slightly in the breeze. There’s a smile playing on his lips—dimples forming as he greets you and Seokjin with familiarity; hugging you both.

Namjoon’s eyes turn to Yoongi and his smile falters, something flickering in his eyes.

“This is Namjoon,” You say softly, introducing him formally, “Prince of Kadïr.”

“Don’t bow.” Namjoon says, raising a hand, his eyes crescent, and Yoongi hesitates, mid-motion, before straightening. Namjoon extends his hand instead, the same easy warmth returning to his expression. The breeze stirs again, warmer now, ruffling Namjoon’s hair as he waits for Yoongi to accept the handshake.

When Yoongi takes his hand, Namjoon’s grip is firm—steady, but as the handshake lingers, something shifts. The grip tightens, growing stronger, and then uncomfortably tight.

Yoongi frowns, instinctively pulling back, but Namjoon’s hand doesn’t let go. It’s as if the prince’s body has locked into place. Namjoon’s gaze, once focused and sharp, has gone distant. His eyes, a warm brown just moments ago, begin to cloud over, a milky hue spreading across his irises.

Namjoon’s grip was like iron. He isn’t sure what was happening—whether it was magic, or something far worse—but every second stretched unbearably. The warmth from the sun faded, the air around them growing thick.

Yoongi’s heart pounds. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Seokjin greeted the prince like an old friend, and you—you seemed comfortable enough. So why are you both just standing there?

A sharp whistle pierced the air, so loud it sent a ring through Yoongi’s ears, momentarily pulling his focus from Namjoon’s vice-like hold. Seokjin moves swiftly behind Namjoon wrapping an arm around his shoulders, supporting his weight just as his eyes roll back. Yoongi watched in horror as Namjoon’s body seemed to go slack, but his hand—God, his hand remained locked around Yoongi’s like a lifeline.

The sudden limpness of Namjoon’s body made Yoongi feel as though he were gripping a corpse. The eerie calm of the courtyard, once peaceful under the shade of the oak, now felt suffocating, almost mocking. Even the leaves overhead seemed to still, as if nature itself was holding its breath.

Yoongi’s gaze flicked over to you. Your expression is a mix of concern and fear that made his stomach twist. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal.

Seokjin’s voice broke through the haze. “Yoongi, try to keep him upright,” he commanded, his voice steady but strained.

His legs felt weak as he shifted to try and help steady Namjoon, his hand still trapped in the prince’s vice-like grip.

The prince’s eyes twitch behind his lids, his chest heaving in shallow breaths. Namjoon’s lips parted, but no sound escaped, only faint gasps, like he was drowning in air. Yoongi’s breath quickened in time with Namjoon’s, panic rising with each passing second.

Suddenly, a dark figure swooped low across the courtyard—a flash of black feathers cutting through the tension.

“Get Hoseok.” Seokjin calls, and his crow circles once, cawing before it darts off toward the castle, disappearing as it flies upwards and makes a sharp turn.

“Hoseok will be here soon. Just hold him steady,” He mutters, as if the command would somehow ground Yoongi in this surreal moment.

Yoongi’s mind was a storm. He doesn’t know Namjoon, but the sight of him like this, slack and unresponsive, made his heart pound painfully in his chest. The world around him began to blur, the only sharp detail being the cold sweat forming on the back of his neck and the death grip on his hand.

“What’s wrong with him?” Yoongi finally found his voice, but it was shaky, laced with a fear he hadn’t intended to reveal.

“He’s having a vision, but…” Your voice was softer, edged with a confusion that only deepened Yoongi’s unease. “I’ve never seen it happen like this.”

Yoongi glanced at you, and the worry etched into your features struck him. You weren’t just concerned—you were frightened. That made it worse.

Time felt like it stretched on forever, the weight of Namjoon’s body growing heavier, his grip unwavering. Yoongi’s fingers began to tingle, and his palm was growing numb under the pressure. Then, finally—after what felt like an eternity—Namjoon’s hand slackened.

Yoongi almost falls backward, stumbling to catch himself as his hand is suddenly released, staring at the prince who now slumped entirely in Seokjin’s arms. Namjoon’s chest still rose and fell, but his face was ashen, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his brow.

With a bit of effort, Seokjin moves him to the bench.

“Namjoon?” you whispered, kneeling down beside him, your hand hovering over his pale face as if afraid to touch him. But Namjoon remained still, unconscious, his expression twisted as though whatever he’d seen was still gripping him, haunting him.

Yoongi rubs his sore hand, his heart still racing. He couldn’t shake the image of Namjoon’s clouded eyes, the way they’d rolled back, as if something had ripped him away from the present and hurled him into some nightmarish vision.

Hoseok comes barging through the doors not long after, white cloak billowing behind him with his hurried steps.

“What happened?” He kneels beside the bench, checking over Namjoon with a calmness only a healer could manage.

“Not sure, he was fine one minute, shook Yoongi’s hand the next and went rigid.” Seokjin explains.

Hoseok nods quietly and reaches for a leather pouch at his hip. He rummages for a bit, and pulls out a small bottle with a wooden stopper. “Jin, hold him, please.”

Seokjin gently shifts you out of the way, and you move to stand next to Yoongi, wringing your hands in bouts of worry. Seokjin puts his arm over Namjoon’s chest, and the stopper comes out with an audible pop. It must be some sort of smelling salts, because Namjoon’s eyes immediately pop open when Hoseok holds it under his nose.

They’re brown again.

Seokjin’s arms over his chest stopped him from springing up too wildly. He takes a deep breath and pats Seokjin’s hand before he sits up slowly.

“Thank you, Hobi.” He says, and he waves a hand when you ask if he’s alright. “Fine, I’m fine.”

He looks around, as though he’s not quite certain where he is and then sighs. Everyone is looking at him with the same tense, worried expressions.

“I’m alright.” His eyes find Yoongi’s and he looks away, “Waking Vision.”

“Has it ever happened before?” Hoseok asks, as he puts the stopper back into the bottle. “The entire servant’s quarters heard Igni cawing a storm.”

From somewhere above in the oak tree, Seokjin’s crow let out what can only be described as an offended caw.

Namjoon shakes his head, “No, this is the first. I don’t...” he falls silent and then shakes his head as if to rid it of thoughts. “Sorry about that, I must’ve scared you all.”

“Namjoon is a seer.” You say softly to Yoongi, and then, gently take the hand that Namjoon had been holding tight to, “Does it hurt much?”

“Not really.” Yoongi’s lying, he’s fairly certain something’s broken, if not badly bruised. There’s worry on your brow again, “I’m okay.”

Namjoon shuffles a bit, pulling a small book and a pencil from the pocket of his trousers. Hoseok comes over to check Yoongi’s hand and tells him he’s fine, and you go back to berating Seokjin for earlier ⁠— much to his chagrin — and the air is a little easier to breathe.

After a while, Namjoon is led away to his room, and Seokjin to his duties and then it’s just you and him.

You’re telling him about the upcoming festival, walking beside him as he goes back to his room. You don’t seem all too excited about it, even as you’re smiling, it barely reaches your eyes.

“I’ll tell Seokjin to take it easy on you.” You pat his arm, and then clap your hands together, stopping. “Oh! Esther would like to start by this afternoon if you’re feeling well enough.”

Yoongi just faintly remembers the motherly older woman. He hasn’t had a headache all day, so he supposes he’s okay for now.

“I unfortunately... wouldn’t be able to be there...” You say, but grumble something else under your breath, shaking your head, “but you shouldn’t have to worry with Esther.”

Yoongi nods, and looks down at his hands. He can only hope that it would be an easy thing to learn. He imagines that it’s easy for children here, as they are gifted from birth. It’s like being taken off the streets and put into a classroom with no prior education.

“Okay.”

After lunch, when the sun was at it’s peak, and Yoongi had just finished filling his tummy with braised fish, white rice and some sort of sweet fruit, Esther came knocking.

She leads him down to the servant’s quarters and then through a door that leads to the back of the castle. It’s a wide open space, off to one side is a couple of posts with lines strung between them, a young man throwing white cotton sheets onto them. A gaggle of children kick around a ball, darting between the clotheslines and other adults. One of the boys laughs mischievously, and out of his hands spews an arch of water, the other children squeal as they avoid it.

Within a fenced area, two women kneel, one with her hands in soft, upturned soil, and the other grinding something in a mortar. They chat softly, laughing to themselves. There’s sprouts of different vegetables, and small herb plants coming out of the dirt.

Under the shade a small pergola, two older men teach a small group of kids how to weave a basket. They show them a simple way that their little hands can manage, and Yoongi’s heart goes out to the little girl who looks like a fish out of water.

Everyone greets Esther as she passes by.

They go through a wooden gate and beyond the wall is a field of wild grass and a forest edge in the distance. There’s a well trodden path that Yoongi follows Esther down, letting the tall grass slide through his fingers.

There’s a clearing, barely any grass in the spot, and Esther tells Yoongi to sit. He sits cross legged and she does the same, smiling gently at him.

“Her Highness told me your circumstances, so firstly, we’ll focus on feeling your arcane first.” Esther says, “Close your eyes and take a deep breath in.”

Yoongi does as he’s told, letting the air expand in his chest, he listens carefully to what Esther says.

“Our arcane magic is deeply rooted in nature, it is in us as much as it is around us. Feel that magic. Feel it in the air, the dirt beneath you, the warmth of the sun.”

For a moment, Yoongi doesn’t feel what she’s talking about. He simply sits there, breathing, listening to her words. Listening to the wind rolling over the grass, the strange and somewhat familiar call of birds somewhere far off. The breeze that blows is a lot cooler than the sun’s rays, it sends goosebumps rippling up his arms when it dances by. The dirt beneath him is warm.

And Yoongi will spend a lot of time this way. In the mornings he meets with Seokjin for combat training, and in the afternoons, Esther for glorified yoga.

Neither of which is going well for him. Granted, Seokjin doesn’t randomly attack him to gauge his skill and for now focuses on his defensive fighting. Outside of his training, Seokjin is slowly becoming easier to be around. Yoongi would go as far as to say he was being nice most of the time.

Esther assured him that the process of beginning to learn anything about controlling his arcane isn’t an easy one. The only result he’d seen since starting with her was that his headaches stopped completely and he didn’t need to see Hoseok anymore.

It’s a week later when he starts improving. He’s sitting in the clearing, breathing the air, feeling the dirt, envisions himself as a filter as Esther had suggested one rainy afternoon. The magic around him flows in when he breathes, and circulates constantly. He has his ‘Lord of the Rings’ moment when he feels a slight tingle in his fingers.

“Esther?” Yoongi calls, eyes closed, and a furrow between his brow. His fingers are still a little sticky with honey residue from his earlier snack that Esther brought. He presses the tips of his fingers together, and then stretches them outward. “My fingers are tingling.”

Esther is too silent, and Yoongi feels anxious enough that he peeks an eye open. He looks down at his hand and then excitedly back up at Esther. There, on the tips of his fingers are the tiniest specks of white light. They’re faint, barely there, but glowing.

Esther claps her hands, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a proud smile.

When Yoongi isn’t with Esther or Seokjin, he’s with you, in the library.

The library was just as grand as he expected it to be; large glass windows and towering shelves filled with books. Although there isn’t much on his arcane, there’s a lot on arcanes in general. The books on ‘The Academic Study Of Arcana’ are huge dusty tomes that Yoongi is certain no one’s touched in a lifetime.

The pages are delicate and he had a hard time trying to figure out how to turn them without damage. It took him days to get through the first section of the first book, which covers the ‘Historical Origins of Arcanes’ and he’s only scratched the surface of it. Necessary water he has to cross to further understand himself and this world he’s been apart of for the better half of a month.

You would sit next to him, silent as he studies, but would break things down for him in simple terms. He’s grateful for that. You’re away more than you’re present, stuck in your duties preparing for the festival. You would only be around for two hours if that many before you sadly slink away. But you’ve tried your best to be involved in Yoongi’s training.

He’s met Taehyung officially, who is as eccentric as he is quiet.

Through the tomes, Yoongi learned of Volatile Arcanes. Taehyung has the rare case of his magic intake is too much for his body to handle, and so, he wears a limiter. It’s a bracelet that sits snug on his wrist, made of silver and amethyst and imbued with pixie magic. Unfortunately, it only pulls some of the excess magic into itself, and it doesn’t stop Taehyung from being sick.

Taehyung does have his good days, when he would sit and chat with Yoongi. He accidentally shocked him by poking his side to get his attention one day. Yoongi learned that day that Taehyung also wields a pure arcane.

One day, the rain is pouring outside, pelting against the glass like bullets. The library looks dim, save for the lamps scattered around the place.

Yoongi is sitting at the table, the tome he is reading is still open next to his hand, but he only feels sleep fogging his mind the longer it rains. You’re sitting next to him, cutting an apple into slices, and putting them onto a little plate, and Taehyung is having one of his better days. He looks brighter than Yoongi has seen him in a while, there’s colour to his cheeks as he talks animatedly.

“Taehyung, you didn’t come see me this morning.” Hoseok’s voice travels from one section of the library, amongst the medical books. Yoongi can hear the frown.

Taehyung sinks into his chair as though Hoseok could see him and he’s trying to disappear. Like a child scolded he mutters: “I was feeling okay today.”

“Doesn’t mean you can skip your check-up.” Hoseok walks out from between the bookshelves. He sets the book he’s carrying down on the table, adding it to a growing pile. “Did you tell Jin the gems are cracking?”

“I didn’t want to bother him...Daasir is really far, you know.” Taehyung grumbles.

You slide the plate of apples over to him and Yoongi shares a look with you as Hoseok looks stern. Taehyung clearly uses the apples as an excuse to not look at him, picking up a couple of slices to shove into his mouth with an over exaggerated hum.

“Taehyung...” He sighs, and then looks resigned, “I’ll let him know, and you can come see me later.”

Taehyung hums non-committedly, and Hoseok purses his lips. He gathers up his books and says a curt goodbye, waddling out the library.

You chuckle to yourself, “You know he’s scary when he gets mad, Tae.”

Taehyung picks up another apple slice, nibbling into one corner with a shrug, his smile is adorably boxy, “He can’t stay mad at me, anyways.”

The rain has finally held up, though it persists in soft, rhythmic drips from the ends of leaves and the sloped roofs of houses. The downpour has turned dirt paths into thick, clinging mud, and Ingrid carefully makes her way through Daasir, the sharp scent of wet earth and damp wood filling her nose.

She pauses on the edge of the dense forest, scanning for a path but finding none. Jimin is notoriously difficult to find. The forest itself seems to bend to his will, twisting and shifting to keep him hidden when he doesn’t want to be found. Even the trees appear to lean closer, their bark darkened with rain, their leaves trembling.

With a soft sigh, Ingrid steps over a large root. The forest’s chill seeps through her boots, and the overcast sky casts shadowed hues of green and gray, making it feel more like evening than midday. Daasir has yet to reclaim its luster, even though weeks have passed since the attack. The once-bustling town feels hollow; fewer merchants line the roads, and most businesses remain closed, their wooden signs hanging askew, darkened by rain.

It takes her a while to find the path—a fleeting trail that seems to vanish if she looks away for too long. Each step further blurs the sounds of Daasir behind her until all she can hear is the soft crunch of leaves, the squish of wet dirt beneath her boots and the occasional rustling of branches in the damp, dense air.

When she finally finds the elusive clearing, Jimin is there, his back turned as he tends to a patch of luminous blue plants that pulse faintly with magic. He doesn’t look surprised to see her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as she approaches.

“Hello, Ingrid,” he greets, his voice light. She bows respectfully, noticing the slight twitch in his brow as he watches her. “How do you always find me so quickly?”

Ingrid chuckles softly, though a slight weariness lingers in her tone. “I’ve lived long enough; I know all of your tricks.”

Jimin hums, straightening and brushing dirt from his hands. The earthy smell clings to him, mingling with a faint sweetness—a fragrance of wild herbs and honey. He gestures toward the door, and she follows him inside. This time, there’s a warmth in the air, the faint crackle of logs in a hearth she suspects he’s neglected for hours.

He glides forward, pulling the door that leads to his workshop closed. She watches as he opens it again, the staircase within curling upward instead of down, an enchantment only he could manage. She follows, feeling the cool draft shift to warmth as they ascend, the wood beneath their feet creaking in a way that makes it feel alive.

“You’re like a witch out in this forest, Jimin,” she remarks, watching his wings twitch slightly, casting faint shadows on the walls. He laughs, the sound carrying a brightness that feels out of place in the dim space.

Once at the top, Ingrid slips off her shoes, unwilling to track the wet forest into a space that looks so intentionally tidy yet oddly untouched. She notices an armchair in the corner with its messily folded blanket and an empty one inches away against the wall.

Jimin’s wings buzz faintly as he moves into the kitchen, busying himself with washing his hands and then setting a kettle on a heating stone. The light scent of tea leaves fills the air as he pulls some confectioneries from a cupboard, each preserved with magic and glistening faintly with the spell’s residue.

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here for idle chat,” he murmurs, setting the kettle to boil. He places the small, glistening sweets on a plate and slides it across the counter, though he doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

Ingrid takes a seat in the armchair against the wall, feeling its warmth seep into her as if the forest chill has no place here. “Perceptive,” she says, watching him closely. “This is important.”

Jimin’s light-hearted expression dims, his gaze drifting to the window, where the leaves outside tremble in a gentle breeze. The whistle of the kettle cuts through the quiet as he moves to pour the tea, his movements slowing as she speaks.

“You know Rowan was killed in the attack,” she continues, each word drawing his attention, his jaw tightening. “And you know what they were looking for. The records are safer in Lumina, and you’re the only one who can—”

“Ingrid, I’ve told you before. I’m not going back.” Jimin’s voice cuts in, and he sets the cups down with a soft but unmistakable edge. His eyes flash, revealing a rare vulnerability.

“This is a matter of life and death, Jimin.” Ingrid’s voice lowers, her gaze unyielding. “You know they’re too valuable to leave in Kadïr. You’d be helping more people than you realize.” She leans forward, her eyes steady, as though daring him to meet her gaze.

He clenches his jaw, staring down at the tea, the scent now oddly bitter. Outside, the wind stirs the leaves, casting shifting shadows over his face. She can see the conflict in his eyes.

He walks over and places the steaming cup in her hands with a finality, the warmth of it contrasting with the coolness that settles between them. Whatever his reasons – he’s never told her, Jimin must understand. There are way bigger things afoot than his little game of runaway prince.

Jimin swallows, his voice tight. “…Fine. I can have it arranged. But that’s as much as I will do.”

[Bold: can't tag]

Series tag: @mssukeyna @purest-expressionofgrief @i-dont-give-a-fok @xyahrinx @3sriracha @loveyoongles @studiosakuras @amon-rei @freyawreya

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sinner-sunflower · 7 months ago

Text

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 14/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

You guys ever read They Both Die at the End cos this is looking a lot like that the more we go on.

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Lucifer had begun to tell them of his trip to Heaven, from what had prompted Michael to almost destroy Hell with his holy weapon to the brewing civil war.

They listened intently to every word he said, not once interrupting him again until they got the full story.

And that's what he gave them.

Well... almost all of it.

He left out the part where the Fates had prophesied his imminent death in the war. Revealing that particular information would raise more questions that Lucifer wouldn't be able to answer.

Charlie: I still don't understand. Why would they involve you, Dad? If Heaven goes to war, how does that affect us?

Satan: Despite what most might think, Heaven and Hell are not two separate entities. After the creation of humanity, it's impossible for one to exist without the other.

Lucifer: He's right. Back then, before... everything. Hell hadn't been made yet because, while yes there was darkness, there were no lower beings to corrupt. Thus no use for a pit to contain them. But then Adam and Lilith happened. Then Eve...

Mammon: So what? We're screwed?

He shook his head.

Lucifer: No. Just me.

Satan: Huh? What do you mean, just you?

Shit. What is with his mouth today?

Lucifer: ..... Michael told me that he took a look at the Fates and saw me among those on the battlefield.

Beelzebub: Excuse me?!

Satan: What the hell??

Leviathan: So it will happen down here? Because there is no way we are letting you go back up there for anything.

Belphegor: Were you also planning on keeping that to yourself? Really, Lucifer?!

Asmodeus: I don't like this.

Charlie: The Fates?

He understood their reactions; after all, this was too big of a revelation to keep quiet for this long about.

Alastor had been awfully quiet beside him, but he can't dwell on that right now nor will he call out the look of disdain the guy is giving Levi.

'Do those two know each other?'

In the end, he chose to ignore Belphegor's accusation (is it really an accusation if it's true?) in favor of answering his daughter.

Lucifer: The threads of life. Pre-written destinies of every being in existence. It might be placed in Heaven, but no one, not even Father, can change what has already been woven.

Charlie: And Archangel Michael saw yours? How?

Lucifer: I-You'll have to ask him that. I fell before the duty of guarding the Fates was passed onto me. I have limited understanding as it is.

He's digging his own grave but it's not a total lie.

Charlie: And do you trust him?

Her question throws him in a loop. Because what?

Lucifer: What?

Charlie: I can tell you have resentment for him. Do you not trust his word? Is that why you were not in a hurry to tell any of us because you think it's a trap or something?

Lucifer: Regardless of what my feelings towards Michael, I believe his words. He is not one to involve Hell in anything that can be solved within Heaven. And I want to say that I'm sorry for not telling you all the moment I got back. The only thing I can say is that I was tired and with everything that just happened in Sloth, all I wanted was to sleep. I promise that I didn't know any of that stuff you saw would happen.

Charlie: But what was that, dad?

Lucifer: My appearance might not be the only thing the ritual affected.

Lies.

Lucifer: I'm handling it.

Lies.

Lucifer: I swear it's nothing to worry about.

LIES.

He gives her a smile that he hopes is comforting enough but based on her crunched up expression, it must have came off more strained.

Charlie: Dad...

Tense silence fills the room. Lucifer's well aware no one believes him but he knows they won't try to push further. They are well acquainted with his character, after all. Cowardly but stubborn.

Satan: We'll get our forces ready then.

Lucifer: Huh?

Satan: What? Did you think we'll just sit here and let our King fight alone?

Lucifer: Look, no one else needs to be involved. I am-

Satan: -the King of Hell, are you not? And whoever threatens our King is our enemy.

Everyone let out a chorus of agreement. The Sin of Pride crumples the bedsheets in his hold. There's tears threatening to fall from his eyes in his disbelief.

How did he find people who are all so willing to fight for him? He feels a pang of guilt for he knows that regardless of what they do, he will meet his end in that war.

But how could he tell them that? Tell his family, these demons he raised, that he'll be leaving them?

A Marigold being tucked behind his ear made him look at his silent pillar. Alastor grabs a hold of his hand and plants a kiss on top of it in a manner that makes his heart flutter like a lovesick teen.

Alastor: We will do everything in our power to keep you safe, my King.

Lucifer: I believe you.

He wishes he could stop with the lies.

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Once the battlecries died down in favor of the Sins giving Alastor a weird version of a shovel talk, they hear shouts outside the room.

It kept getting closer and closer until the door bursts open revealing the rest of the hotel residents, all holding some form of weapons on them.

He would've thought they were under attack until Vaggie and Angel toss something, no someone, on the ground.

It was a face Lucifer never thought he'd be able to see again. Because he's dead. He should know because he burned the body in Hellfire himself.

On the floor, beaten and bruised, is a half-goat demon wearing a face of a dead man. It grunts and let's out an awkward laugh as it meets his eyes.

Adam: Haha..... Sup, bro.

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Apologies if that last part is weirdly cut cos I wanted Luci to say that but then I also wanted Adam to appear now.

I'd appreciate any comments or DMs left on your thoughts about everything so far! Reblogs and likes are also much appreciated <3

Have a happy weekend everyone!

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fallenclan · 1 year ago

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**FC IM GOING TO LOSE MY FUCKING MARBLES.** GOD... GOD!!!! CYCLES!!!

LEOPARD ANON HOLY FUCKING SHIT. TAKING THIS IN MY JAWS. SPECULATION INCOMING - TAKING A BIT TO TYPE. HAVE YET TO VOTE. SPINNING IT IN MY HEAD A BIT.

Notably, interestingly, maybe - Otterslip is the son of a former leader and a respected deputy, the former apprentice of the current deputy, and by all accounts a good mentor. I feel like he'd be seen as a fairly respected warrior. If this *did* come to light? I think it would shake up the clan very, very badly. Expose a rot growing in the core of their clan - not only that, but in the heart of a well-respected, and more importantly, well-beloved warrior. I could go on a whole tangent here about how evil is not something black and white and how people are flawed and how it is SO delightfully interesting to have someone like Otter who we've known and loved so long do something like this. Because this *doesn't* cancel out the rest of that, he's still that cat who's adored, who's suffered hardship and helped others weather it, who comforted his apprentice when she felt unworthy.

And he still killed someone - a *medicine cat,* of his own clan - because he felt he had a right to, and he felt it was deserved. And because his mother did the same, moons and moons ago. He lashed out in pain and fury and a refusal to face the truth, and did something horrible and irreversible for it.

Hm. Still typing what I actually meant to send. But I can hand you this speculation, at least, without the research.

- What do you think Scorchstar felt, looking down at this? Regret? Not even for her actions, necessarily, I doubt things between her and Sunwish will ever be truly okay in the stars, but for the *precedent* they set? For what her son, who's grown so well in her absence, but never abandoned his soft-hearted, unerring belief in his mother, took from it? She's clearer of mind, up here. Does she dread the results of his actions?

- Do you think clouds covered the sky, overlooking them on that cliff-face? A storm that may have been brewing in the distance all day, coming to fruit above them in deadly silence? Do you think Otterslip cared about the eyes upon him - about Silverpelt's doubtless disapproval? Or did he wait to act in the sun's scornful gaze, instead?

- Do you think it rained, on his walk back? Sorry I've just got the image of like. A three day storm, or something, just enough to haunt him. Starclan's wrath or a mournful goodbye or the insistence of a truth that refuses to go unheard. All three, maybe, depending on who you ask... I wonder if it would wash away the blood, or not.

- How Sunwish felt, looking down...

- .

- I think it's a feeling she remembers all too well.

SORRY. Normal. & DO NOT EXPECT YOU TO HAVE ANSWERS TO ALL OF THESE (head in hands embarrassed) HAHA KNOW IT IS BUT LITTLE PIXEL GAME... BUT TH!! MAN. GOD. CIRCLES...

(fun fact. Every medicine cat since Sunwish, sans Eaglestripe, has been at some point righteous.) (- 🐈‍⬛)

LITERALLY ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! like. i absolutely adore the moral grayness of it all. and the fucking Parallels..... cant articulate my thoughts all that well rn but like. i am Thinking about the stuff with Otterslip being a cat that We Watched Grow Up!!!!!! we saw him as a little baby cat and we saw him become an apprentice and then a warrior and we saw him love and lose and grow and. he fuckin whips around and murders??? and . idk i'm Thinking. i had to look back to all the old art of him and it's like. this is a murderer. he murdered someone.

#feeling things thinking thoughts. the fucking Circles.#fallenasks #black cat anon #like. this is the cat that has one darker brown foot because his mother also had that darker brown foot.#this is the cat that cried when his parents died. this is the cat who did everything he could #to comfort his apprentice when she felt like she wasn't good enough.

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moeyes · 2 years ago

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“things that matter” ♡ | nikola tesla

pairing: nikola tesla x gn. reader

warnings: 4.8k words, afterlife au, pre-ror development, fluff, established relationship, far distance relationship issues, angst with a happy ending, slow build-up, soft make-out sessions

synopsis: your lover, consumed by his conquest for a massive breakthrough in his studies, loses sight of the people around him that matter– especially you.

HIS WORK, AND NOTHING MORE-- A COMMON PHRASE USED BY NIKOLA WHEN DESCRIBING HIS PASSIONS. It was one of the very things that you adored about your lover; indeed, his overwhelming devotion to whatever he puts his mind to. Hearing in excruciating details the discoveries Nikola has made so far, along with what he intends to do in the future. He never rushed his perfection, taking his time analyzing each and every component of a plan to make sure everything is executed flawlessly. No matter how much time it took him, he would spend every fiber of his being to complete it.

It was always a sight to see him dancing around his lab with the equations and models that he scribbled down with a dull chalk bud used relentlessly. Nikola's eyes would always be brimming with purest form of fascination when he figured out an answer to his dilemmas, as if it were a gift that he's been given. Mozart's symphonies would echo throughout the hall on his record player, playing for long spans of time whenever he was too focused on the task at hand to change it.

There were even instances where Nikola pushed his body to the extreme, leaving him to feel lethargic from the lack of food and sleep. You had grown used to taking care of him during those times, pampering him with his favorite meals and resting the rest of the day away. Majority of the time, Nikola recognized the limits that his body held, but there was one particular research project that spiraled him down into passing out. You could recall everything that transpired that day. The sheer fright of how pale his skin looked, how his cheeks have thinned, and how his eyebags had darkened, creating semi-permanent indentations around his eyes.

Bringing him from off the floor, you eased him down onto his desk chair, propping up his body to where he wasn't uncomfortable. Fetching some water and a clean cloth, you started with dipping the cloth into the bowl, squeezing out the excess water before dabbing the wet fabric onto his face to wake Nikolas. You repeated the process for a few cycles before you noticed him beginning to wake. At that moment, you knew you couldn't hold your tongue with the way he was treating his body. "You mustn't push your body to the brink of exhaustion, dearest! Seeing you as a workaholic husk instead of the vivacious and hungry man fueled by his desire to create, to help others concerned me to no end."

It was as if you were scolding a child as the words poured feverishly past your lips. Fist clenched and shoulders squared, you held your ground on the matter, yet you couldn't make yourself glare at his disheveled frame. No, your gaze softened as you knelt down to Nikola's seated body, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his calloused fingertips to his bruised knuckles. "I love how attentive you are to your career as an inventor, but you can't drown yourself in the storm of ideas you constantly have brewing in your head. You need to establish a balance between your work and your well-being."

Nikola placed his hand over yours, letting your words sink in and permeate in his head. He always hated being wrong, but he couldn't deny that your words held the truth. What he hated even more was seeing you in such a distraught state of mind, worrying over him. His thumb rubbed circles across the joints of your fingers, as if you were the one who needed comforting.

"I'm sorry, my love. There's no need to fret over me any longer." He said, his voice low and raspy instead of his usual bombastic volume he emitted wherever he went. "I'm always going to worry about you because I care. I just don't want you to drown yourself in your work." Blue eyes that made even the clearest of skies pale in comparison stared down at you dully, lacking the luster that once made them sparkle. You cup the side of his face tenderly, raising his head from its slumped state.

"Just... Promise me you'll try to take better care of yourself?" Nikola didn't respond with words; instead, he leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to your temple. His hands clung onto your top, the fabric being dug into by his hands. Your usual perfume filled his nostrils, a scent that even in the deepest of trances can bring some awareness for him. More than anything in this very moment, Nikola wanted the company that he isolated himself from for far too long. "I'll try, just promise you'll be patient with me." There was no question on the matter, you knew that you would always wait for him, because you were indubitably in love with him.

Even in death, as your soul became your sentient being, your final form, you stayed by his side. Both of you appearing in your prime, his tousled back hair to his vibrant blue eyes, he was just as how you remembered him. Holding the same vigor he carried throughout his past life, he worked even harder within a world that had no limitations in the pursuit of his studies. With newfound access to creators from timelines both in the past and future, he was able to converse with some of the brightest minds from across history. understanding what was once foreign to him.

Of course, Nikola made a greater effort in spending time with you as well. Apart from his fast-paced ramblings and frantic pacing throughout the new workspace he had created with you, Nikola explored things outside the realm of science, things of your interest. Showing you grand gestures by creating little trinkets and décor that made him think of you, scheduling days away from his job to devote that time to you and you alone-- whether it be simply appreciating one another's company or taking you out to sightsee areas that he believed you would like. Seeing him take into mind what you've said in the past, seeing him make an effort after spending countless years with one another, was touching. You knew how much being an inventor meant to Nikola, and in no way would you ever try to take that away from him.

Just as much as he compromised for you, you made sure to reciprocate the same notion to him. There would be times where it stretched for days where you wouldn't hear from him, seeing as he close himself off into his lab like a hermit when the latest idea that he had needed to be fulfilled. Little notes would be transferred between the two of you in these moments to reassure one another that you were doing alright with the use of a robotic pigeon named Regis that he created for this sole purpose. It was miraculous how lively the animatronic acted, almost like she were your pet bird. Whenever she wasn't sending messages between the both of you, she would keep you company during the time Nikola couldn't.

And no matter what, in the end of his grueling sessions, you were always the first for Nikola to sought after, showing you the fruit of all of his hard work, going into depth for every specific detail and purpose for what each mechanic served. To tie it all together, he would always pull you into his embrace, peppering kisses all along your face as you would giggle at his antics. Everything in your "life" with Nikola was going smoothly, and you wouldn't trade it for the world, but even in the afterlife, things can't be harmonious forever. There were rumors uprising about the Gods consulting about an event called Ragnarök occurring, and out of all the billions of people that could've been chosen, Nikola Tesla was one of the thirteen warriors drafted to fight for humanity.

You knew there was no swaying Nikola from carrying out with this request, no matter how much your heart yearned for him to refuse, to back down this once, so he could stay with you. He was too stubborn, too prideful about his intelligence in what science has to shoe to ever step down; in fact, you swore that he was elated to be picked for the duel, eyes brimming inexplicably bright as the sides of his mouth twitched upwards. For how long you've known Nikola, it's amazing how he still manages to baffle you every once in a while. What was no surprise, though, was how quickly he went to work afterwards, sparring no time for civilities any longer, for he had work to do.

"There's no time to lose," He dressed himself quickly, rushing from out the bedsheets to gather some of his most needed equipment to bring along with him. Where he was exactly going, neither of you knew, but he was told that he would be escorted to a private chambers later in the day via letter. "I will ensure that Regis stays with you. I don't know when I'll see you next." He looked at you, watching the twitch of your lips as you tried your best to hold a smile. "I know." Nikola knew that you understood the gravitation of the situation, it just didn't make it any easier to part from one another. "I'm a sorry excuse of a lover. I know, time and time again, I don't deserve someone as understanding as you are, but please wait for me."

You shook your head at his self-degrading, disapproving of any of the claims that he had made about himself. "I always will, Nikola." Affirming your words with a kiss to his lips, you relished the feeling of his smooth lips, the stale taste of whiskey lingering when you parted away from him. Making sure that neither of you could forget the feeling of each other, Nikola brought his lips back onto yours, this time, holding the notion for longer. His gloved thumb cupped the side of your jaw, controlling the pace.

He kissed you as if it would be his last, sharing to you what could not be expressed through words, before he pulled away, eyes lulling over you. Exhaling through your nose, you pecked the corner of his mouth before moving away. "Let's finish up quickly. Maybe we'll have time for a drink afterwards." Nikola offered, grinning in your direction before he turned to work on a section of his lab, next to you. The time spent getting his items packed together was short, but you spent it as close as you possibly could to each other until he had to depart.

Brunhilde, the eldest of the Valkyrie sisters, was quick to usher Nikola into a space where he could concur his masterpiece alongside the most brilliant minds within history, locked away to handle his own devices. You knew you wouldn't be seeing Nikola for a while, hearing him discuss all the varying thoughts he had stored up in that magnificent mind of his, nor have him hold you during nightfall, where the warmth of his body would ease you to sleep. This situation was bigger than you, and he had his wondrous destiny to triumph over, so you had to be strong. You had to conceal your emotions on the matter, and support him as best as you could from the sidelines.

Time seemed to pass effortlessly over the span of weeks, going on two months, and you hadn't heard a peep from Nikola. It was as if he had disappeared off the very face of the Earth, and you had no means of finding him. Patience was becoming something you couldn't afford, no matter how much you attempted to coax yourself into whatever ideas you'd like to believe was true. There was no evidence to support any of your claims, anything your imagination manifested for the sake of comfort, and knowing that made you impatient. The only communication line you had has now been severed, and your only hope was that one of your little friends could reach out to him, or someone that could get you to him.

"Please try and find him for me, Regis. I need to know that he's doing okay." Your desperate whispers were weak as you cradled the metallic bird within your trembling hands. The request was tied to one of its hindlimbs, a shriveled up note lacking any of the flair that you would typically put in. It was a pathetic excuse of a request to see him, at the earliest convenience, to whoever had the capability to hear your woes and help out. You watched as Regis's intricate wings flapped, before leaving the window of your chambers until she was out of sight. With taking account of Regis's speed, she could locate Nikola within the span of a few hours, if his lab was in close distance.

All you could in that time was clean yourself up, changing from out of the days old clothing that had been left on your back to change into something much more presentable for the public eye. Combing out the tangles in your hair that you had refused to have taken care of any earlier and brushing your teeth until all the plaque buildup had been scrubbed away. You tried to recall the moment you fell out of your daily routines of self care, being about for days ago when the an entire two months had passed with no words exchanged with Nikola. Of course, you had your friends, but you wanted the company of your lover, you had to see him, or at least hear him. This was the longest you had gone without seeing him, or without one of those little notes he would send you to show you that he was at least still functioning.

You didn't want to disturb him, but you wished that he reached out first to let you know that he was okay, and that he longed to see you just as much as you do now. You blink away the tears that attempted to gloss over your eyes-- no, you wouldn't cry, even though thinking about the loss of contact hurt. Reminiscing over what was instead of how things are now made things easier for a time, but they were no permanent solution by any means. Once you were finished tidying yourself up, you occupied the time by going throughout the piles of notes that he had composed throughout his projects, his handwriting surprisingly eloquent for how fast he jotted everything down. Even throughout his scattered thoughts, you were a sidenote on every few pages, seeing Nikola's deepest desires to be beside you used as a motivation to work even harder.

Sometimes you were a footnote on the side, but then there were others where thoughts of you would take up the entirety of a page. If something was used to quell your anxious thoughts of how much importance you are to him, the hundreds of pages that you were on made all the doubt you once held wash away the more you buried yourself into his writing. Digging deeper and deeper into every stack that you could get your hands on, you saw how much he cared, and that in the stretched out times that you were apart, even now, still took a toll on him too. Despite feeling so bitter initially, so lost as to where you stand with Nikola, you nearly forgot the type of man your dearest was.

Nikola Tesla was a lover unlike any other, one who was so devoted that his eyes never strayed to another, one who once makes a promise never backs down from it. His resolve was strong, which was probably one of the very reasons he was chosen to fight for humanity. This wasn't something that should make you upset, it should be something that makes you proud of all of his efforts being recognized by the Gods. If that isn't a feat in itself, then you didn't know what was. You smiled to yourself, one that was genuine, for the first time in what felt like weeks. "Nikola, wait for me just a little bit longer. I'm on my way." You declared aloud, your voice echoing throughout the domed space, before proceeding to examine more of his research entries as Mozart played in your ears.

"My, I never thought I would have the opportunity to examine the mad scientist's before-death work for myself." A feminine voice jested, one that sounded quite familiar to your ears. You whipped your head around, surprised by the unexpected intrusion on your privacy. Brunhilde, someone you didn't quite trust, waltz right past your locked door to stand right in front of you. "How did you-" "Valkyries have a lot of things that humans don't. Anyway, it's of no importance right now," It was clear that she wasn't going to elaborate any more on the whole "breaking-in" spiel, but you couldn't help but be curious by her sudden arrival. "There was a creation of Tesla's, a bird who approached me with a request made by you." Revealing the now crumpled note that she was holding onto, you were relieved to see that Regis was able to reach out to someone in power over the whole event.

"I wish to see Nikola. I know he's busy, so I'm grateful for any amount of time I'm able to spend with him," Your cheeks flushed deeper with each word you spoke, but you knew it was what you wanted more than anything else. "Has he been taking care of himself? I hope he hasn't been drowning himself in alcohol to keep up." Muttering the last part under your breath, you glanced towards her hopefully. With all the commotion going around, it would make sense if Brunhilde didn't have the time to check up on him daily, but she was the last one you saw interact with him. You figured she had to know something about his whereabouts. "Tesla has been well; in fact, he's been outworking all of his other colleagues, staying up for hours on end."

You chuckled at the thought, recalling yourself placed in a familiar situation with Tesla. Multiple different occurrences, each with their own story to tell. Times where you would escort him to bed, others where you provided him company when the moon was high-strung and vibrant. You could go on, and on with the stories you had to share, but now simply wasn't the time. "That sounds like him. For a man who a go with only an hour of sleep, it's incredible how he always manages to outpace everyone." You couldn't stop the smile from breaking out on your lips as you gazed back down at the last paper you were holding, one dedicated to you. "You care for him deeply." Brunhilde said in a matter-of-fact tone, fingertips grazing over the stray papers scattered across his desk as she made her way to you.

"He is always in my thoughts," You paused, grip tightening on the sheet of paper in your hands. "I'm surrounded by every little thing that reminds me of him. It's amazing how thinking of someone can make a person so happy, yet so sad at the same time." She hummed softly at your words, her walking ceasing when she made her way 'round the lab until she was right in front of you. "I can bring you to him. I believe Tesla seeing you will improve his work ethic significantly." Oh, so she did gain something out of helping you with your request, but it was of no matter. What did was that you wouldn't have to waste a second more wallowing in your loneliness, because you would be with him. "I would love nothing more than to see him."

Brunhilde flashed a smile in your direction, beckoning you with a wave of her hand. Without hesitation, you followed her without second thought out of the room to as she lead you out of your home, out to an area you didn't recognize. There were so many questions you wanted to ask her, but a part of you assumed that Brunhilde wasn't the type to share all of her cards to anyone she didn't trust. Deciding that it would be best to ask Nikola his perspective when you had the chance, you kept your mouth shut as you continued to walk alongside her in silence. Being graced with the enormous arena structure that replicated the common Greek architecture, you marveled at the sight for a moment, before realizing that she continued to walk within the open hallways.

Venturing throughout this place was most certainly a workout in itself. Various corridors and stairs to escalate, you began to wonder how it was so easy for Brunhilde to keep such a consistent pace with all the walking you had to do to get around. "Don't worry, we're almost there." She suddenly informed you, as if she was able to read your mind. Maybe it was the telltale signs of the way you struggled to keep her pace, with every one step she made, you had to take two. Nodding at her words, you noticed her turn a sharp corner, leading towards a padlocked door. It resembled the type that would be in action novels where a big heist would take place, overbearing and intimidating to the eye. "He's in here?" Your heart was beginning to pace much faster than before, hands becoming clammy at the thought as you looked ahead, thoughts racing, and every single one of them about Nikola.

"Yes, he is. Are you ready?" Brunhilde glanced over at you through her peripheral vision, her hand already placed down on the scanner that allowed her access into the sealed off space. "I have been for quite sometime now-- I can't even contain my excitement." You exhaled, drawing it out longer to really feel like this was happening. You could feel the burning in your muscles for the far out walk that had to be made, but everything about the destination and finally being reunited all felt so surreal to the point where it was hard to decipher if this was true. The door whirled in recognition to the Valkyrie, the gigantic handles spinning automatically until another machine peered out. She followed it, head tilting upwards to where her eyes were visible enough for the machine to process. A beeping sound rung out in confirmation, causing the door to swing open, granting both of you access inside.

A short tunnel proceeded soon after, filled to the brim with different pipelines going all throughout the walls, emitting a fluorescent glow from all corners. "He did all that?" You gaped, referencing the tight security established just to get into the room alone. "Indeed. He is quite the mad scientist, isn't he?" She commented, gesturing to the final barrier standing in front of you. It was a much simpler door in comparison to the one you were faced with before, a basic turn-the-knob mechanic that threw you off. You motioned your hand to the handle, eliciting a singular nod from the dark-haired woman as a sign to proceed. Wiping your hands on your slacks, you reached out to place your hand on the silver handle with a tight grip, before turning it open to bare witness to the sight in front of you.

A very spacious lab with rounded walls that were all covered to the brim with filled-up chalkboards, windows acting as dividers all throughout the lining of the walls. Endless sheets of papers acted as a rug throughout the flooring with the occasional stack of books on the side. It was a mess, to say the least, but that could be discussed on a later note. Rushing fully into the room, your eyes searched for the one person you were trying to locate, until the door was slowly beginning to close. Brunhilde waved at you a farewell before the door completely closed due to the force of a familiar gloved hand. Following the direction of the arm, your eyes trailed upward to see a recognized set of clothing, continuing until you saw him, Nikola Tesla in all his upstanding glory.

He looked healthy, skin just as fair as it was when he left, his enchanting blue eyes staring at you with a gaze that made your heart swell, and a grin, one that was so bright that it left you awestricken. Brown hair tousled, majority of it pushed back with a few wavy strands falling to his forehead as Regis was parched on his shoulder, just like old times. You reached out to him, voice failing to make itself apparent, but that didn't stop him from making his way to you, carefully grabbing your wrist to bring your hand up to his cheek. He was flushed, and so warm to the touch. His natural, earthly scent that he tended to emit filled your senses, allowing your tense hand to ease up, cupping the side of his face more properly. You had so much that you wanted to say, so many questions brewing inside your head, but they all felt pointless to ask because Nikola was here with you now, so nothing else mattered.

"I've been waiting for such a long time." Was all that came out from your mouth, finally taking the chance to look him head on. "I know." Is what he replied with, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. "I've missed you-- more than you would ever know." You let out a shaky breath. It was becoming much harder to have a proper restraint over your emotions, and Nikola knew it. "Whenever I slept, it was you who filled all my dreams." He admitted, his smile becoming lopsided as he pensively let his sight be taken up by you alone. "I wish you reached out to me, I've sent countless letters to you throughout the days, yet to be met with no response," Tears prickled your eyes as you recounted the days where your hope dwindled with each passing day you waited, as per his request.

It was unbearable, that period of isolation etched into your mind, becoming a part of your life that won't become easy to simply move on from. Eventually though, you will, and you know that. "As much as it hurt, I'm just so much more relieved to see you." Moving your hand away from his face, you brought his shoulder forward to bring him into a tight embrace. Bringing his hands up to your back, Nikola squeezed you back, everything feeling so right when you are in his arms. It was if he was finally home, and he didn't realize how much he missed it, until he had to be apart from you. Kissing any surface of exposed skin, he wanted to show his appreciation for you, wanting to be rid of any thoughts during your time apart that were dark and simply untrue. From your collarbone to your neck, maneuvering upwards until your lips were the only unmarked spot.

He kissed you light, almost as if he was asking permission to continue further into the kiss. You both came to a compromise, you meeting him halfway as your lips finally pressed fully onto one another in conjunction. You combed your hair through his wavy strands, feeling how silky smooth they still were as you pushed him forward, even further in. Nikola was precise, excelling in knowing what exactly pleases you, and it was no different when he had his fingers brushing the nape of your neck, causing you to shudder from his touch. He chuckled against your lips, before moving his face back to have enough room to examine your flushed cheeks. "You haven't changed in the slightest." He hummed, your chin in his grasp as he thoroughly checked your body for any prominent changes that would come easy for him to notice.

Smiling at his familiar antics, you cheekily stated, "Neither have you. It's not something I mind, though." Your combined laughter echoed throughout the area, with Nikola tumbling back and pulling you down with him all across the papers that provided a surprisingly plush landing. Your head was placed right on top of his sturdy chest, unsure of what exactly was going on until Nikola's arm tucked under your body, bringing you closer to him.

"I want to share with you everything that I have discovered, everyone that I've met, and all that I have managed to accomplish in our time apart," Nikola exclaimed, hand reaching out towards the walls around him, motioning at the clearly visible result of a combined effort. "But more than anything, I want to hear about you. I want to know what you have been doing, even the mundane. The books you've read, the food you've eaten, I want to hear all about it, so won't you indulge me?"

a/n: wanted to write something soft for nikola's character because he is just too sweet.

#snv #snv x reader #ror #ror x reader #x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnorak #nikola tesla #ror nikola tesla #snv nikola tesla #fanfic #a03 #a03 fic #light angst #gender neutral reader #gn reader #reader insert #nikola tesla x reader

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