#--in order for her to have even a sliver of happiness
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throughpatchesofviolet · 9 days ago
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I love the Manager of La Manchaland ID story--seeing her go around and interact with the Barber, Priest, and Princess, and then seeing her not just vanquish the "Father" who'd abandoned them and forced them to suppress their instincts, but also take responsibility of the Family from him after ... it felt like the Bloodfiends got their justice.
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pretty-little-mind33 · 11 months ago
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James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: James has been persuing you for years and you've never said yes, until now?
Genre: Fluff 😇🎉 (bc i love happiness, ur welcome)
Warnings: misunderstandings, lovesick!James <3
JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST
It's not James's fault he's been head over heels in love with you for longer than he can remember. And it's really not his fault either that he's spent years acting like a complete and utter fool just to have a sliver of your attention. 
Talking the loudest in any room you're in? Easy.
"Accidentally" flying too close to where you're sitting in the Quidditch stands while he's supposed to be playing just so he can flip around obnoxiously? He's done that over three times now. 
So, when he hears you'll be at the Three Broomsticks this evening, it isn't surprising to anyone that he convinces Sirius and Remus to accompany him.
The moment they walk in, their loud demeanor makes everyone turn their heads. It's no secret James, Sirius, and Remus are the handsomest guys in your year — so no one could blame you when you look up too. 
Your friend digs her elbow into your side when James sees you looking and struts to your table. You sit up, taking a long sip of your pumpkin juice as James leans in and crosses his arms.
Sirius and Remus stand behind him, amused. "Ladies," James winks, his eyes focused only on you. "What brings you here on this lovely Friday evening?"
You turn your head, avoiding his gaze with a small smile that makes James lose his mind, "Nothing that concerns you, Potter,"
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, unfazed by your bluntness as he motions to your empty glass. 
When you stand, James smoothly moves out of the way and you send him a look behind your shoulder. "Mm, no thanks. But if you want you can walk with me to order my own drink," you joke, not thinking he'll actually want to.
But, if James was a puppy, he'd be your puppy. You have him wrapped around your little pinky and the only person who doesn't see it is you. 
"Gladly," The boy smirks and his arm brushes yours as he walks next to you. You frown a little but don't say anything. You've never minded James's attention, and you know he's been after you for years now, but still you can't wrap your mind around him being serious about it.
In your mind, the attention was always bound to fade with time, and you wouldn't be caught as the fool who'd fallen for it.
However, as you lean against the bar to order another pumpkin juice and you feel James's eyes glued on you, you start to wonder. 
"So, when's the expiration date for this little game?" you ask, looking at him seriously. 
James leans against the bar too and completely turns his body to you. "Hmm? What?" he asks with a smile. He tucks the loose strand of hair from in front of your eyes behind you ear, seemingly proud of himself when he can see you clearly again. 
"This," you point at him, and then throw your arms up dramatically, "Whatever it is that you're doing."
James just smiles. He's not really catching on as his hand slides closer to yours on the bar counter. "What am I doing?" he whispers, leaning in. He has that look in his eyes, the one that makes your stomach flutter. 
You move your hand away from his. You sound exhausted, "All this flirting! Aren't you done yet?" you say it a little loudly and the woman who hands you your drink sends you a glare. Your cheeks heat up and you mumble a small sorry as you slide her your money. 
James catches your other arm before you can turn around and walk away from him. "Hey wait, what do you mean am I done? Do'you want me to be done?" he sound unsure and you can see his confusion on his face. 
Now you're confused. "Are you not planning on being done?" you whisper.
James can't hear you over the loud music and chatter inside so he moves you outside gently and you don't have to time to wonder why you let him.
It's slightly dark but the air is warm and James can hear you now when you ask the question again. He looks you over, still extremely puzzled by the entire situation.
"Wait, done with what?" he asks.
You blink at him. "What?" you feel like you're losing your mind. 
"Am I done with what?" he asks camly and you roll your eyes. 
"Done with flirting with me!" you exclaim, running a hand in your hair, "I- I don't understand, James. Why haven't you moved on? Sure, it was funny for a while but it's been years, even you must find the joke stale by now?"
James mouth opens and closes like some kind of fish and then he stares at you like you have lost your mind. "Joke? What joke?" he says and walks a little closer to you. He sounds even more confused. "Y/n, do you want me to stop flirting with you?"
You bite your lip, "I mean, yes? Because, it's not really funny anymore. I didn't mind it, Potter, but —" you pause and then hold the drink in your hand tighter. "Okay, here. What if I say I like you too? Can we just have a good laugh about it and then it all be over?"
James's frown deepens and he waves his arms in the air. "Wait, you think I'm joking?"
You blink at him again. "You're not?"
James runs a hand through his hair, chuckling in disbelief, "Of course I'm not joking," he walks even closer and you feel his presence as your skin tingles. You look up as he brushes his thumb on your chin and then smiles warmly, "I'd never pursue anyone as a joke. If you said you like me, then I would say thank Merlin and then I would kiss you until you couldn't feel those gorgeous lips of yours," he says it so calmly but you almost drop your drink. 
"Wait, so you actually, no-jokes, like me?" 
"Oh yeah. Why would you think I was making that up?" James moves his thumb to brush over your lips now, a look of adoration in his eyes, "I'm not that committed to my jokes," he teases. 
He pauses to think, "you think a twelve-year-old boy would write you cheesy love notes every class and actually send them if it was a joke? Or likewise, a sixteen-year-old would spend all of 6th year reading every single book you borrowed from the library just in case he had the chance to impress you? Or lose sleep over the way you wear your hair, or know that you change your nail-polish every week but you rotate the same colors since 4th year," James blushes a little at the admission and pauses, "and now I just sound like a creep, don't I?"
You laugh and the sound makes James grin. You hesitate but touch his cheek, tilting your head, "So, you meant every over-the-top gesture and every hilariously stupid pick-up-line?" you ask, "ever since 2nd year?" 
James nods, leaning into your touch. "Mmm yeah, but we can pretend that I was joking about the pick-up-lines that way it's less embarrassing for me," he says sheepishly.
"But I liked your pick up lines," you pout with a smile, your shoulders relaxing. 
James's eyes sparkle, "Yeah? You did?"
You smile at him. "No, but now it's funnier that you were serious about them."
James looks at you and he laughs. He throws his head back with a grin and your chest tightens even more. Has he always been this handsome or have you just never let yourself fully admire him? James looks at you again and his next words almost cause a heart attack. "Merlin, I've never wanted to kiss you as much as I do now," 
Your eyes flicker to his lips unconsciously and you realiz ehow close he is. You're nervous now and James can tell. Gently, he takes the drink in your hand and sets it on the small ledge of the building. It might fall but that's the least of your worries. For now, you need to focus on remembering how to breathe. 
Something must be different in the way you're looking at him because James asks you if he can kiss you. Years and years of flirting and he's never asked you that. 
You don't answer him and just when the silence starts to become awkward you take his cheeks in your hands and pull him towards you. Your lips hit his clumsily and you gasp into his mouth when his arm swoops behind you and he pulls you closer. James kisses you hungrily and you start to wonder why you hadn't done this years earlier.
When James disconnects his lips from yours and looks at you sweetly. "I didn't think you'd say yes," he whispers, "even less that you'd say it like that," his cheeks are tainted pink and your lip-gloss stains his lips. 
"Neither did I," you admit and look away a moment. Goosebumps run across your arms and, because you don't know where to put your hands anymore, you put them in your jacket pockets. You frown and pull out the galleons you'd used to pay for your drink with your left hand. You look back at James and he looks guilty. "What's this?" you ask. 
"I paid for your drink when you weren't looking. I knew you'd most likely say no again but I couldn't resist. I'm sorry," he holds his nape and sways on his feet.
You stare at him, slightly annoyed but also impressed that he'd put the money in your pocket without you noticing. You outsrech your open palm for him to take the money. "You'know, you make it very hard for me not to fall head over heels in love with you, James Potter."
James grins and closes your hand around his. "That the point, love," he says. 
You roll your eyes, realizing if he'd gone behind your back to pay for you he'll never accept your money now. "So, are you gonna ask me out properly or what?"
James smirks, "Are you going to say yes this time?"
You grin, "You'll just have to find out now, won't you? Tenth times the charm?"
"I don't think that's the expression—"
"Just ask me already, you idiot," you giggle.
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flor4de4amor · 8 months ago
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𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!
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you’re abby’s favorite bartender at her favorite dive bar. she doesn’t take to kindly to people disrespecting her best girl.
warnings: alcohol is mentioned + slight violence
click for palestine! read before engaging with my acc+work
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Abby is a regular at your bar. Well, regular is a kind way to put it. At this point, she lives in the dive bar. She’s head over heels for you but has decided obnoxious flirting every happy hour, and a sliver of your attention will suffice. 
Her routine is simple:
Order a beer. From her favorite bartender of course. If anyone offers to serve her it’s deny, deny, deny. She can only accept alcoholic content from her best girl.
Shoot some darts, play some pool, chugging contest. Blah, blah, blah. It’s only fun if she sees you sneaking glances from your station, shooting you a wink while she engages with her team. She likes seeing how flustered she can get you with a thin-lipped smile and wink alone. And the answer is very flustered.
Once she’s seen you steal enough glances, it’s time to go back to the bar and bother you. Sure, order another drink. But, also, flirt with the gorgeous girl serving her. Is that a new shirt? Your hair looks so pretty tonight. She loves the necklace you’re wearing, situated real well between your tits. 
Then stay on the barstool, all night, up until she’s one of the last patrons in the bar. Even though,  she’s gotta be up running drills quite soon after your shift ends. But it’s worth it. If she can make you laugh at least once.
Every time. Without fail. That’s Abby’s routine, and tonight was no different. 
Well, except for the fact that there was some asshole bothering you while you worked. Doesn’t he know that’s her job? Only she can bother you, she’s the only one who does it right. Besides, you looked annoyed while he was talking to you. You never looked annoyed when Abby flirted. Always brushing your fingers on her bicep, giggling as she flexed, giving her a hard time for flinching after a shot. You relished in her attention even. You looked like you wanted to throw up while this guy was talking to you. Abby personally, wants to throw him a punch. Instead, she rolls her eyes and fiddles with the toothpick between her teeth, before calling you over to her. The night’s still early, maybe he’ll back off. She hasn't gotten her slice of your attention yet, so she refuses to let that be cut short. 
“Hey, princess!” She uses a hand motion towards you. Your face lights up as you walk towards her freckled face. You hadn't spoken many words to her all night. It was a relief to see the pilot in her designated stool. 
You throw your towel over your shoulder and place your hands on your hips. “How can I help you, Captain Anderson?” Your tongue pokes between your lips, a coy smile protruding.
Abby rolls her eyes. “I hate when you call me that.” She sighs playfully, “I only let my favorite bartenders call me Abby y’know.” 
You place your hand over your heart, flinching, “Silly me thinking I was the only one.” 
Abby whistles lowly at you. “None of them are half as pretty as you, baby.” She watches as you turn your head to the side shyly. She’s already got you flustered and the night’s just begun. She hasn’t even started throwing darts and flexing muscles with her squad yet.
It’s your turn to roll your eyes now. “Promise?” you flirt shamelessly, curious as to what she’ll say.
“Scout’s honor princess,” she kisses three of her fingers and holds them up.
You laugh at her actions. Only Abby can have you laughing at work. In a sticky bar, tight shirt, and light hangover still cascading over you. “Okay, Abby,” You say her name sickeningly sweet. She almost bends over to her knees. “What can I get you tonight?” She smiles, tapping the paper coaster on the countertop, pretending to think. “I’m gonna go with the usual tonight babe.”
You smile, “Boring but expected.” You go to grab a glass and fill it up with ice as a deep baritone fills your ears. “Princess,” the man calls. This new customer was evidently, not privy to the unspoken rules of the bar. He winks at Abby expecting some comradery from a nickname alone. As if friendships are built off disrespecting women. 
You cringe at the nickname and don’t reply. Your legs only move to that call when it’s your favorite captain calling you.
“Oh c’mon don’t be that way.” The man continues. “What? You want a different nickname?” Abby’s jaw is clenched so tightly, that she's sure her molars have cracked. She’s clenching her fist to the point that the white of her knuckles is apparent. 
“She doesn’t respond to that,” Abby replies to the asshole. “She’s got a name.” This man is new sure, but definitely an idiot. He’s choosing to continue squaring off with the Abby Anderson. You know better. You wouldn't disrespect her even with all the alcohol in the world flooding your system. You’ve seen her in a bar fight. She’s never lost.  
“What is this your girlfriend?” He laughs drunkenly. “I mean I’m into that sort of thing,” he snorts to himself. “Why don’t you give us all a little kiss?” He continues chuckling like he’s some world-class comedian. Though, Abby doesn’t seem to find him funny. 
She runs her hand over her face. She looks at you for a moment. “Princess,” she leans in whispering, “How many bar fights in me until you said I was banned?”
You lean closer to her, whispering back, “I don’t think I’m allowed to ban the champ.” Smiling cheekily at her. She winks and clicks her tongue. That’s all she needs as reassurance to kick this guy’s ass.
She gets up from the stool, walking closer to him. Though Abby oozes dominance, when she’s standing over you it’s hard not to shit your pants. She places her hands square atop this guy’s shoulders. “I’m gonna give you just one chance to apologize to my pretty girl or else you’re gonna be banned.” 
The man brandishes off a drunk grin that’s missing two front teeth. “Ban? Me? Ban me? Nah.”
Abby rolls her eyes, “So that’s a no?” She doesn’t even give the guy a chance to answer before punching him straight in the jaw. “See someone else has had the common sense to knock two teeth from that ugly mug of yours, what’s a few more?” She mutters to herself.  There’s slight commotion, but it dies down quickly with the rest of Abby’s aviator squad coming quickly behind her. Beers still in hand, foam coating a few mustaches they ask her what happened. She wrings out her hand, “Go take his picture for the wall of shame and dump him outside.” She huffs, watching her lieutenants follow her orders.
Abby comes to sit by you in her same old worn-down barstool. She smiles as you give her a bag of ice for her hand. “What number fight is that?” You ask her softly and playfully.
“For you or in this bar?” She’s got that look in her eye, nothing but trouble.
You roll your eyes, “Don’t answer a question with a question.” You being to make the drink you never got to give the dirty blonde.
“You’re bossy tonight,” she muses, accepting the drink once you hand it to her, chugging quickly. “Fighting makes me thirsty she muses.”
You repress a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “So Captain,” you drag out the tightly slightly. Watching as Abby raises her eyebrow at you.
“Princess,” she replies with an edge to her voice. 
“When’re you gonna bite the bullet and ask me out? Hasn’t total endless flirting with me gotten boring?” You lean against the bar top, cleavage spilling from your low-cut top. 
“How about now?” Abby works hard to make sure her eyes don’t come to your spillage. She works overtime in doing so even. It’s torturous.
You hum, “Beating up drinkies doesn’t count as a date you know?” You smile at her, propping your face against your hand.
“Our first date wouldn’t be here,” she smiles toothily. “If that’s the case, we’ve had plenty of dates while I sat in this barstool. We’re married even.” She grins at you.
Your tongue licks your lips, “Moving fast, aren’t you? Focus on the first date, Anderson.”
“Yeah get used to saying that last name, ‘cause it’ll be yours,” she clicks her tongue and winks at you. “How about I come to grab you this weekend? A nice dinner, me you, and no drunks up your ass.” 
“Does this mean I’ll finally be seeing you out of that old navy uniform Anderson?” Your smile captivates your face as you tease her. Only you would make fun of her while she’s trying to ask you out.
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t go home on the first date.” She teases, laughing softly, ‘cause it’s far from true.
“Liar,” you call her out on her shit, carefully grasping the glinting dog tags that lay around her neck. You pull her in for a kiss, for a moment there’s cheering. You know it’s from her rowdy lieutenants. You smile against her lips and pull away. “I’ll see you this weekend?�� You say looking at her loved face.
“Sure thing princess.” She’s stunned. “You know what? Put a round on my tab, for celebration.” She reaffirms.
“No doubt captain,” you smile mocking a salute.
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divider by @aqualogia
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thediaryofaurora · 5 months ago
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General HCs
=Tim Wright/Masky=
- Twenty seven, only a little older than Brian.
- 6’0, buff dad bod.
- White with a small percentage of Native American.
- His childhood was ROUGH. His mom just dumped him off at a psyche ward whenever he started having hallucinations and rarely ever went to visit. He grew up completely isolated other than the other patients, never had any parental care or real friends. At around fifteen he burnt down the hospital and lived on the streets for a few years.
- After he was able to get into college he met Brian, and they immediately got along. Tim can’t communicate his feelings or even know what he’s feeling, but Brian can easily read people, is easy to talk to, and open minded, which is exactly what Tim needed. In all honesty, Brian’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a family.
- He is so desperate to feel any sliver of normality. Living at a strange, paranormal mansion, not remembering anything he does on missions, and not being able to have any normal social life makes him physically ill. Occasionally the proxies get a month or two off and that really the closest he ever gets to feeling normal, or even happy. Being able to watch TV in a normal house, go grocery shopping, get a part time job, do anything without worry or guilt, it’s the only good part about his life.
- Genuinely has a smoking issue, if you couldn’t tell. Goes through like two packs a DAY and has to buy them in bulk like a middle aged woman getting almonds at Costco.
- Has a little apartment a few miles away from the mansion with Brian. They were originally going to get separate ones close by, but Brian was too worried Tim would sieze out or have an episode to leave him alone.
- He gets sick SO easily. Not just from The Operator, he catches a cold at least every other month.
- Has an old, rusty pick up truck him and Brian drive around.
- Gets along surprisingly well with Natalie, sometimes they smoke together. It’s hard for him to understand her accent, but he doesn’t mind her company nonetheless. He finds her super interesting, and extremely intimidating — but he’d never mention that.
- Doesn’t necessarily mind Toby, but he does think he’s kind of an asshole. They get along on occasion, however he can be a jerk. To Tim he’s a snarky, reckless teenager, and to Toby Tim’s a nagging older brother who won’t ease up. When they have to work together Brian is usually alongside them, and his demeanor somewhat evens them out.
- Shockingly enough, he’s a morning person. Especially in the spring. Right before the sunrise when theres a light blue haze, dew on the leaves and buildings, and a cool breeze, it’s one of the rare times he feels peaceful.
- Almost exclusively eats microwaved meals. He can’t cook for shit and he doesn’t care enough to try.
- When him, Brian, and Toby are stationed away from the mansion they stop at hole in the wall diners. He always gets a black coffee and scrambled eggs, he likes to see if the places make them any different than the others.
- He listens to country music.
- Can’t really figure out any new technology. He’s not old or anything, he just has no means to. Still has an iPod and listens to CDs.
- More onto Masky now!!
- Unlike Hoodie, this guy does have malicious intent. Can and will attack anyone who possesses him off or gets in his way.
- EXTREMELY short temper. Won’t put up with Toby whatsoever and has beaten the shit out of him, no remorse.
- He is aware of what happens in Tim’s life, rather than how Tim doesn’t know what happens when Masky fronts. If something or someone slightly upset Tim, Masky is FUMING. Any slight emotion Tim feels, he feels ten times stronger — and more aggressively.
- Hoodie gets on his nerves, but they work well together. Masky is ruthless and doesn’t care what happens to who, while Hoodie is only aggressive by order.
- Masky prefers Kate over any proxy, even though him and Hoodie work together the most. She knows hot to shut up and get shit done, and he almost admires her for it. She’s fast, efficient, and not empathetic when it comes to victims. The only reason they’re not always paired together is because their killing styles don’t line up. She’s a hunter, while Masky is a brute that focuses on how he kills.
- He can front for extremely long, sometimes up to a few months, and when he fronts he does not sleep at all, which bites Tim in the ass.
- Extremely high pain tolerance. He can get stabbed and still be focused on getting the job done, he’ll deal with the pain after the fact.
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azzibuckets · 5 months ago
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good luck babe part 2 [pazzi]
paige bueckers x azzi fudd
word count: 1.4k
a/n: i lowk do not like this but oh well
part 1 | masterlist
“You can’t force me to be here,” Azzi grumbled. “This is literally kidnapping.”
“You’re right, I can’t.” Caroline twirled the keys to the locker room on her finger, god knows how she got them. “But if I see you leave this room, I’m telling Geno about the checkup you failed last-,”
“Okay, fine,” Azzi interrupted, hoping Paige wasn’t following what Caroline was saying. She didn’t need the older girl to find out why CD had pulled her out of practice early the week before. “Sadist.” Her eyes burned into the back of Caroline’s head as the brunette shut the door, locking it with a click.
Azzi looked up at the tiles on the ceiling, the silence in the room louder then ever. With a loud groan, she sat down at her locker, making sure to send the blonde the dirtiest look she could muster. Paige held her hands up in defeat, pure innocence on her face. “Don’t look at me. This wasn’t my idea.” Paige looked down awkwardly at her hands, and Azzi took the opportunity to study the blonde. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, but Azzi’s heart still thudded at the soft shininess of her blonde hair and the curve of her mouth that she’d once memorized with her own lips.
Azzi’s curiosity got the best of her. “What did Caroline threaten you with?”
Paige blinked, confusion overtaking her face for a moment. “What?”
“How did she force you to be here?”
Paige folded her legs up, crossing her arms around her knees. Cocking her head with a stare so intense that Azzi had to break eye contact, she said, “She didn’t. I wanted to see you.”
“Bullshit.”
“How can you think I’m lying when I’ve tried calling and texting you hundreds of times?” Paige’s tone was bitter. “You wouldn’t even let me into your apartment when I sat outside the door for three hours.”
It had been the hardest thing Azzi had ever done, ignoring Paige. But she’d told herself that it was necessary in order for her to heal, that she wouldn’t be able to get over Paige if she didn’t cut off all ties. But now a sliver of doubt ran through her body as she looked at the older girl, because from the way every single neuron in her brain was lighting up from just being in the same room as her, Azzi knew her plan had completely and utterly failed. “You let me walk away the first time.”
“And I regret it every day.”
Azzi clenched her jaw. “What are you trying to get at? You obviously don’t reciprocate my feelings, and I’ve obviously been trying to get over you. Why are you making it so damn difficult?” Azzi was on fire now, her lungs burning with the need to say these words that have kept her up the past twenty nights. “Do you enjoy seeing me so hung up on you? Does it make you happy that I’ve ended up just like all the other girls you’ve been with, in love with you because you’re good at sex?” She snarled the last words mockingly, ignoring the way her heart panged at the hurt in Paige’s eyes.
“What other girls?”
“What?”
“What other girls, Azzi? You speak of all these other girls but there hasn’t been anyone.” Paige’s voice faltered. “There was Breanna, from my freshman year before you came. I told you about her. And that was fucking it, Azzi. There’s been no one else because I can’t think of anyone but you.”
“Then why?” Azzi was at a loss for words. “Why did you not-”
“I’m a pussy, Azzi,” Paige said dryly. “You know I’m not the bravest when it comes to you. It’s always one step forward and three steps back with us.” She swiped at her cheeks with her sleeve, hoping that she could hold back her tears just long enough to explain herself. “We’re best friends, but I feel no label could do justice to how I feel about you.”
Azzi’s bottom lip trembled. “How do you feel about me?”
“That you make me laugh so fucking hard that I don’t need Hudy’s dumbass ab workouts.” A scratchy laugh escaped Azzi’s lips, and Paige folded that sound into her heart. God, she’d missed the way Azzi smiled. “You make me feel sane after games when social media becomes a living hell hole.” Paige took a step towards the younger girl, testing the waters. “And I think you’re beautiful. You know I love watching basketball, but I…I think I love watching you more.” Azzi shook her head, taking a timid step back when Paige kept on advancing, but before she knew it, Paige’s hands were on the small of her back, on her hips and up her sides until she was fully in Paige’s arms. “And I think that I want to make you mine. And fuck it if it’s too early, but I wanna marry you too. Because I can’t imagine living the rest of my life with anyone but you, Azzi.”
“Paige.” Azzi’s eyes were watery, and there was a faint smile on her lips, and hope was glimmering inside Paige that she’d broken through to the girl. But Azzi looked down, stepping away from Paige, her hands falling helplessly to her side, and Paige knew. “You can’t just sweet talk your way into making things okay.”
Paige swallowed hard, pushing down the panicky feeling rising in her throat. She’d laid her whole heart out, had ran over this speech inside her head hundreds of times. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart, not when Azzi was just at her fingertips. “Then what do you want me to do, Azzi? I’ve come after you so many times trying to apologize. I want you, and I don’t know how to make myself any more fucking clear.”
“I-”
“I’m not letting you go again.”
“God, Paige, aren’t you scared?”
“How can you even ask that?” Paige’s hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Of course I’m scared. But I’m trusting you with my whole goddamn heart. But if I’m being honest with myself, you’ve had it for the past five years.” With trembling fingers, Paige ran a thumb over Azzi’s cheekbone. “I know I fucked up earlier, but this is me saying that I’m gonna try. I’m begging you to give me one more chance.”
A tear fell slowly down Azzi’s cheek. She closed her eyes briefly, leaning ever so slightly into the warmth of Paige’s palm. “You mean it?”
“I could never lie to you.”
For the rest of their lives, they’d argue over what happened next. Azzi claimed Paige kissed her first. Paige insisted Azzi was the one who initiated it. Regardless, both of them fell into each other, hands frantically running over each others bodies and pulling each other closer. It was surreal for Azzi, the feeling of Paige kissing her like she would die if she stopped. She tasted the saltiness of her tears, the sweetness of Paige’s lips, and she wanted more. When she whimpered, Paige tightened her grip on the younger girl’s waist, fingers flexing around the belt loops of her jeans. It felt like hours until Paige brought her hands to Azzi’s chest and gently broke them apart.
Azzi’s lips were swollen, her mouth wet, her pupils dilated. She looked up at Paige through her lashes, and it took everything in the older girl not to start kissing her again. Focus, she chided herself. “What’s this I heard about your checkup?”
“Do we have to talk about this right now?” Azzi pressed her mouth against Paige’s again, and Paige relaxed into her touch for a second before realizing. “Azzi.”
Azzi sighed, giving Paige one last peck before resting her forehead against hers. “My knee was acting up again. It hasn’t hurt for a while but it flared the day of the checkup and I couldn’t complete some of the agility movements.”
Paige pursed her lips. “I told you you’ve been in the gym too much. You can’t go in all at once or you’re gonna hurt yourself again.”
“You of all people shouldn’t be telling me this,” Azzi said, clearly referencing how Paige had tried to rush her own rehab the year before. She turned away, annoyed by how the conversation was going, but Paige gently grabbed her elbow.
“Hey,” Paige said gently. “I don’t wanna fight. We literally just ended our last one.”
“I’m just saying, you didn’t go to any of my PT sessions in the last few weeks. You don’t get to comment on how I’m healing.”
Paige raised her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure if I’d shown up you would’ve kicked me out.”
Azzi scoffed. “That’s not the point.”
The look in Paige’s eyes softened. “I know, but I promise I’m gonna be with you at every session again.“
“I wanted you there.”
“Hm?”
“It’s true, I probably would’ve tried to kick you out if you’d shown up, but…I wanted you there anyways.” Azzi twisted her lips. “It was hard having the motivation to go without your annoying ass forcing me each time.”
“So you did miss me,” Paige smirked.
“That’s literally not what I said.”
“Okay babe.” Paige’s tone was teasing, but Azzi had to look away to hide her blush anyway. Babe. She could get used to that.
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blues824 · 1 year ago
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Scared to ask this one lmfaoo!... Let's have the reaction of all of Diasomnia dorm! <3 Uuhhhh but can I get a Biological Teen Mother of Sliver!Mc... like she had him at a young age? Currently she could be in her late 20s going into her early thirties! And maybe they could be from a different or even from Twisted wonderland ( that's up to you! ^w^) but Biological father of Sliver, very bad man, evil king- And Mama Sliver/Mama Mc is very protective and got in contact with Malificent for help! I was thinking of a kind of Sleeping Beauty Syndrome for Mc! Which is an extremely rare condition that causes intermittent episodes where you sleep for long periods of time, which prevents you from staying awake during the day (hypersomnia). This would explain why Sliver is always sleepy, and also what Lilia could not find a cure for it! Mama loves her baby Sliver, but understands if he wants nothing to do with her at all even if she does want to be in his life again...
Female reader, obviously. Low-key made this a Lilia x reader fic lol.
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It all started with an arranged marriage when you were 18. Your rich family from the Queendom of Roses were somehow in-touch with a noble family in Briar Valley, and they set up a marriage between you and their son. Upon meeting for the first time, the two of you did not get along. To put it simply, he was rather rude to you despite you both being human. Your family was forcing you into it because, and I quote, “How would you find a husband if you keep sleeping the day away?” You had sleeping spells that left you unable to do much, and your family shamed you for it.
At the wedding, you saw your now-husband slip away quietly, and when you followed him, you saw him with another woman… or three. It didn’t bother you all that much. It’s not like you loved him at all. What did bother you was that you were going to have to sleep with that STD-ridden flea bag in order to produce a child, and then you could escape this loveless marriage. However, that requires being in bed with him.
The first time you had lain with your husband, you felt absolutely disgusted. You were angry; at him, at your family for forcing you to be with him, and at the world for predestining you for this. But, you had gotten what you wanted out of it. You were pregnant, which meant you never had to sleep with that deadbeat husband of yours ever again.
Upon learning that you were with child, you contacted Queen Maleficia for help. You explained to her about your situation, and she was more than happy to help. She already had someone that the baby could go to, actually. You were basically a surrogate now. Her Royal Majesty understood that it would be no good environment for the baby if you were to stay with your husband, so she made arrangements for you to stay within the castle up until your labor and the recovery process.
Lilia was the one to hold your hand while you gave birth, actually. The Queen was making the preparations outside of the room. A nursery had been set up for the baby, and maids and servants were rushing in and out of the delivery room.
When the baby was finally born, you held him for a few moments. It was as though the world had gone quiet, because he was not crying. You weren’t crying either. Baby Silver was sleeping in your arms, and you realized that your child had inherited your condition. You trusted, however, that Lilia would not shame him for the condition as he had not shamed you. You could see the good future that Silver would have, but it would be without you.
One last kiss was placed on Baby Silver’s brow before you, with tears in your eyes and a heavy heart, handed him over to Lilia. 
“I’m sorry, my baby. It’s better off this way. Just know, I will reunite with you soon.”
That started the recovery process, where Silver would remain asleep until your departure. When you left, you left to gain the help of the Queen of the Queendom of Roses. After all, you needed the help of both queens if you were going to get out of this marriage and gain the rights of your child.
~~~~~~~~
When he was just a young boy, Silver couldn’t help but wonder where he came from. He knew that Lilia was not his biological father. After all, if he were, he would at least be half-fae, and their ears would be similar. No, he was fully human. The knight-in-training was very observant. Plus, there was his condition to consider. The man who he came to call his ‘father’ did not have it, and from what he had read it was a genetic condition.
The only thing he has from his mother or father is a letter containing just three words. It isn’t signed, but he knows it’s from one of his biological parents:
“My dearest Silver.”
He had many questions about his parents: Were they kind? Did they know how to cook? Where were they? What did they do? Why did they give him up? 
That last question wasn’t one out of sadness or spite. He genuinely wanted to know. He is sure they had a good reason. From what Lilia had told him, which was very little and very vague, you gave him up because you wanted him to have a better life. A better life compared to what alternative?
“When you’re older, Silver, I will tell you everything. Just know that your mother loves you very much,” Is what Lilia often told him. This answer frustrated him, and he wanted to know more. But, the former General would just brush his questions away.
~~~~~~~~
“Is everyone ready?” Here we are, a few years later. Silver was a second year at NRC, and the Briar Valley crew was going to head back home for Winter Break. He made sure that he had everything he needed, and he made sure to say farewell to Yuu and Grim before going through the mirror. It was unfortunate that they couldn’t go home to visit, but maybe they could enjoy their stay at NRC?
Anyways, everything was just as Silver had left it. His room looked exactly the same. The days were exactly the same. The training post was exactly the same.
…So why did something feel different?
The air was more sombre than he remembered. Typically, there were festivals held in Briar Valley, or there was something happening in the palace. However, the maids and servants were whispering amongst themselves as he made his way to the prince’s chambers. Gossip did tend to spread, so he wondered what the latest piece of gossip was.
“Silver, follow me. Your presence is required in the throne room.” Malleus met him in the hallway, surprising the knight. His tone was serious, and he nodded before trailing after the dragon fae.
~~~~~~~~
“I apologize for taking so long, Your Majesty, General Lilia. A marriage of this sort hasn’t really happened within the Queendom of Roses.”
“It’s quite alright, Y/N. I am just happy that you are out of that dreadful marriage. I apologize that you had to go through something like that anyway!” Queen Maleficia exclaimed.
“I’m sure you would have been here if you could, Y/N,” Lilia smiled as he said it to you.
A knock on the large door to the throne room echoed, making you jump a bit. It had been 17 years since you have been in the Briar Valley Palace, and for that you regretted every second of it. You have kept yourself away from your son just so you could get a divorce, but you missed all of his firsts: his first word, his first step, his first real food, his first day of school, etc.
The door opened, and a guard was followed by Prince Malleus and Silver. You could recognize that hair and those eyes from anywhere. They were your baby’s. You let out a gasp, and your eyes immediately started to tear up.
“Your Royal Highness, Malleus Draconia, accompanied by Sir Silver,” The guard announced, as though you needed an introduction. You quickly stood up and walked over to the pair, hands shaking as you reached out to touch your son’s face.
“Silver,” Queen Maleficia started to say, “Malleus, this is Silver’s mother.”
Tears made their way from both yours and Silver’s eyes. Your hands met the sides of his face, and his hands immediately went to cover yours. This is what the both of you have been wanting for years now.
“My dearest Silver…” Upon hearing those words, Silver broke down in a full sob as he wrapped his arms around your frame. You returned the favor, holding your son close to you. It has been too long, truly.
“My dearest mother.” Were the first words he uttered to you, and you couldn’t be happier in your entire lifetime.
If time could stop, it would have stopped right there. However, he pulled away after a few moments before turning to Lilia, who had walked up to the two of you. He was in his army-day getup, dressed as a former General would be.
“This isn’t some cruel prank, is it, father?” He asked, wondering if he was going through another one of his sleeping spells. 
“I assure you that it is not, my dear boy.” Lilia pulled the knight into an equally affectionate hug. The three of you were crying, and you turned to give the bat fae a hug as well in gratitude.
~~~~~~~~
You and Silver decided that, in order to bond a little, it would be best if the two of you went on a walk with one another. So, you were taking your time in going through the palace gardens.
The 17-year-old knight had so many questions to ask you, and you were very happy to answer any that he had. The first was about his condition.
“Mother, do you have the sleeping condition that I have? Are you where I get it from?”
“Yes, you inherited it from me. Your grandparents from my side in the Queendom of Roses did not like that I had it.”
“What were my grandparents like?”
“Well, from my side, they forced me into a marriage with your father. However, from your father’s side, they were very kind to me. They actually helped with the divorce process.”
“Why did you and my father get a divorce?”
“That is a story for another time. Just know that it was why I kept myself from seeing you because I knew that it was not a good environment for you to grow up in.”
“Is he why you gave me away?” You stopped in your tracks to look at your son, and his eyes held both anger and sadness. You reached your hands up once again to cup his face, your face straight but emotional.
“I did not give you away. I never wanted you to think that, Silver. I wanted to give you your best chance, and that was not with me by your father’s side. Because he hailed from Briar Valley and I hailed from the Queendom, the process got complicated and I had no choice. If I left anybody intentionally, it was him and not you.
“Lilia raised you to be a good man and a good knight to the prince, and he did not judge you for our sleeping spells. You made it to Night Raven College with him guiding you. Your father would have tried to prevent you from reaching success just as he did with me. I was in college myself, studying to become a doctor and maybe find a cure for my… our condition.”
Silver was in deep thought, and you couldn’t read his face. Then he nodded before continuing to walk. 
“What was my father like?”
“I don’t really know how to describe him. He valued his work and he did not value family as much as he should have. He was the son of one of the very few human noble families within the Briar Valley. I’m trying to think of a way that doesn’t impact you negatively, if I’m being honest.”
“I would rather have your honest opinion. I am nearly an adult, and I am a knight now. I should be able to handle it.”
“Well, on our wedding day, I saw him in bed with a few other women, so that was not a very good impression at all. I hadn’t met him before that day, actually. Now, he is where you get your silver hair and auroral eyes. However, from the letters Lilia has sent me throughout the years, you seem to have gotten my personality as well as the Sleeping Beauty Syndrome.”
Silver nodded, looking forward before starting to speak again.
“I waited for as long as I could remember for some other form of communication. I don’t even have any last name. Not yours, not my father’s, not even Lilia’s. Why didn’t you ever send me another letter? Why didn’t you address the one I had received?”
“I didn’t want you looking for me. You don’t have your father’s name because I didn’t want you looking for him either. I do not know why Lilia didn’t give you his last name. You might have to ask him.”
“All my life I have asked the old man many questions about my parents, but he didn’t give me any information aside from that you were beautiful, that you loved me very much, and that you let me go to give me the best chance I could have.”
“I don’t know about the first one, but the other two were correct,” you giggled. Lilia had always been a bit of a flirt towards you, especially during your pregnancy. Even through the letters he had sent, there was always a bit of a flirtatious attitude. “I do love you very much, Silver.”
“I love you too, mother. And for the record, you are very beautiful. All of what Lilia has told me would be correct.” You turned to look at him and he also had a smile on his face.
~~~~~~~~
“Wait… so, what you’re informing me, Waka-sama, is that after 17 years, Silver’s mother finally appeared. How do we know she is his true mother?” 
Sebek could not believe this. He has known Silver his entire life, and only now does any of his parents reach out. He sat with Lilia and Malleus in front of him in one of the many rooms of the palace. He placed himself on the chair at a table within the room, holding his head in his hands as he tried to retrace everything that the two had told him.
“Because, silly, I have met her before. One would say that I’ve even loved her before,” Lilia was still in his mature form when he said this. The former general was there from the beginning. He was at your wedding because the family had history in the military of Briar Valley. That was when he found himself entranced by you.
The reputation of the man you were wed to was less than desirable, and his family was mostly just desperate to get him married to somebody. They opted for someone who didn’t know about the guy, so they decided to choose a family of high standing from another realm.
He remembers the day you came to the palace, a slight bump visible under your gown. You had a cloak on to conceal your identity, and he was the one who answered the palace gate. Tears were running down your face, and Lilia immediately took you inside to get you warmed up.
Malleus remembers that day as well. He was also at your wedding, and while he didn’t talk with you much because you were very quiet, he could tell that you were very nice. He was still awake at the time you had entered the castle, and he listened along with his grandmother about your issues. He also saw the almost murderous amount of anger in Lilia’s eyes.
Anyway, back to the present, Sebek was having a hard time grasping everything that was happening. Then, he stood up.
“Would it be appropriate if I were to go see her?” He asked.
“I have no doubt that it would be very appropriate. I expect her to drop by your domicile later because she is well acquainted with your father. As humans hailing from Briar Valley, they connected, and I believe your father was her dentist when she resided here,” Malleus explained.
Suddenly, the crocodile was overcome with even more shock; His father knew you?? How come he had never informed him or Silver of anything about you?
“Your mother knew her too. The two were actually quite good friends, if I remember correctly…” Lilia trailed off in thought, trying to remember if what he said was actually true.
Then, Sebek passed out from the overwhelming feeling of this bombshell that was dropped on him.
~~~~~~~~
When you had returned from your walk with your son, you were met with Lilia extending his arm to you. You looked towards Silver and he nodded his head at his father figure before walking off. So, you accepted the fae’s arm and began walking with him.
“How was your conversation?”
“It went exceedingly well, Lord Vanrouge. He had so many questions, and I answered each one he had.”
“That is good to hear, darling. I’ve missed you very much, as you’ve probably guessed by now,” Lilia stopped in his tracks as he slipped his arm from yours to bring your hand to his lips and place a kiss upon your knuckles.
You couldn’t help but feel a tad flustered, but a smile graced your lips as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek.
“I’ve missed you too, Lilia.” Said fae smiled in return as he once again extended his arm for you to take, and you began walking again.
“By the way, Lady Y/N, young Sebek would like to see you. He’s Dr. Zigvolt’s youngest son, 16 years old. A meeting has been arranged at their abode.”
“That sounds lovely! It’s been a while since I’ve visited the Zigvolt’s. From what I remember, I have only met their older son and daughter.”
~~~~~~~~
It was in the evening when the gathering was, and you, Lilia, and Silver knocked on the door to the Zigvolt’s house. The door was answered by the matriarch of the house.
“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” She gave you a very tight hug, letting a few tears run down her face at knowing that you were alright.
Everyone went inside, and the table was set for supper. The older Zigvolt children walked up and gave you hugs as well. You remember seeing them when they were barely old enough to speak, but the memory of a half-fae is not to be underestimated under any circumstances.
“LADY Y/N! IT IS VERY NICE TO MEET YOU AT LAST!” You turned towards the shouting voice to see a young man bowed at a perfect 90° angle. “MY NAME IS SEBEK ZIG-”
“SHUT UP! SHE PROBABLY KNOWS WHO YOU ARE!” His older sister shouted at him, bonking him on the head to try to get him to quiet down.
“Thank you for introducing yourself, Sebek,” you were trying your hardest not to laugh at the family dynamic. “It is very nice to meet you! Silver has told me many wonderful things about you, and your dedication is the first thing I see within you.”
The guy was very close to tears at your words, his heart feeling warm.
“Y/N, is that you?” You turned to see the patriarch of the household, and you greeted him with a warm hug of his own.
~~~~~~~~
Walking back to the palace, Lilia lingered behind you and your son so that you two could continue talking with one another. After all, you had only one question for him.
“Silver, I know I have not been present in your life, and I hope you can come to understand the reasoning behind it. However, I am finished with my education and I will be working alongside Dr. Zigvolt as a doctor in Briar Valley. I wanted to ask you something, if you wouldn’t mind.” Your nerves were at an all-time high, not sure how you should phrase your question.
“What is it, mother?”
“Would you still want me in your life? I know you’re almost an adult, and I missed every single milestone of your life. I will understand if you don’t want me to-”
“Yes, please.”
“...What?”
“I said yes, please. I would love to have you in my life. But, how will Lilia take it?”
“He knows, honey. That’s why he’s behind us. I believe there is a way where it could work out…” and suddenly, you were being hoisted up into the fae’s arms in a bridal carry. You let out a squeal as Silver smiled at the shenanigans of his parental figures.
Yeah, he knew that Lilia had been smitten with you for a while now. Throughout his childhood, he has had the pleasure of hearing a story be told and retold, and he understands that it was a metaphor for Lilia’s love for you.
“There once was a princess, as beautiful and as kind as could be. Her voice would draw in fauna of all kinds. However, she was afflicted with a curse. She couldn’t stay awake.
“Her family was horrible to her, calling her names because of her curse. All she ever wanted to do was help people like her, but the family wanted to continue their bloodline. So, they married her off to a noble from a distant land.
“The wedding was a party to remember, but in the audience was a soldier, smitten with the princess. From that point on, he swore to himself that he would protect her until the world ends. Even then, his dying breaths would be used to serve her instead of himself.
“She eventually fell pregnant with a child, and she went to the castle to seek the aid of the Queen of this distant land. There, her unborn child received a blessing, and the soldier took care of her for the nine months following. He was at her beck and call; whatever she wanted, he took it upon himself to acquire it for her.
“It was in her 6th month where the two shared their first kiss. She had been working hard to try and separate herself from her husband, as she never loved him. Instead, she found herself in love with the soldier. His kindness and the stories he had to share of camaraderie and bravery on the battlefield entranced her. She found herself being lulled to sleep each night by his voice.
“However, sleep kept them apart. Her condition extended itself because of the child taking a toll on her energy. There were days where she would sleep for days on-end. However, the soldier would not leave her side. Instead, he would keep bringing her cups of tea in case she were to wake up. Each evening, he would place a kiss upon her forehead and speak to her as though she were awake.
“The night she gave birth to her child, she was accompanied by the soldier. He held her hand, and when the baby was born, the midwife cleaned the infant and handed him to the soldier. At that moment, the soldier swore to protect both the princess and the baby with his life.”
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solarmorrigan · 4 months ago
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🪱Wiggly Worm Wednesday🪱
I was tagged last week by @devondespresso! Thank you <3
I've mostly been working on prompt fills for Steddie Spooktober, and that's taken up pretty much my whole entire brain, but in the spaces in between, I've been thinking about autistic!Steve
See, Steve sort of "lucks out" in that his special interests fall under what's considered acceptable for a boy to be interested in. He loves sports. He loves cars. He loves learning everything about them - about statistics, about the players, about how engines work, about all the different makes and models there are. He just... has to learn not to talk about these things so much, after a while. Or maybe not talk about them at all, because he thinks they're fascinating, but other people - maybe not so much, and he's bad at gauging when people have lost interest until they're telling him to just shut up already
But he learns
And stimming? Well, it turns out that exercising and playing sports are the perfect, full-body stims for Steve. Things like rocking and flapping his hands and wiggling in place? Not acceptable. Things like going for a jog, swimming laps, shooting basketballs again and again and again until he's perfected his technique? Great; encouraged, even. And for the times when he can't exactly go for a run or start doing sit-ups, he finds something to fidget with; he learns how to spin and twirl pretty much anything he can get his hands on (anything to keep him from doing those socially unacceptable things)
Emotions are harder. When he's a kid, and the world is too loud too close too much and he hasn't learned how to handle it yet, when he has meltdowns, he gets written off as a spoiled brat, crying because he hasn't gotten his way. That's no good, so Steve learns how to internalize it; when things get to be too much, he's likelier to withdraw and shut down. Outsized emotional reactions aren't cool, and they make the other kids pull away from him, so he swerves towards the other end of the spectrum and expresses very little. Being aloof, it turns out, is considered cool, so Steve keeps it up
So he's out there masking so hard that the thing is practically glued to his face when he falls in love with Nancy Wheeler. Nancy, who isn't impressed by his cool facade or by how well he can play basket ball or by who he's friends with, but who seems to like him when he's being a goof, when he lets tiny slivers of himself out
So he lets a little more out. Nancy likes it, likes him, and it makes him feel safe
It doesn't work out, of course - of course. Steve should have known better. No one likes it when he lets all his shit out. He's halfway through duct taping his mask back on when Dustin happens. The kid works his way into the cracks, widens them, makes himself at home there, encourages Steve to be loud and weird if he wants to - all of Dustin's other friends are, and they seem... happy for it
Maybe Steve can be happy that way, too
Maybe he can watch movies he used to consider himself too cool for and come up with a secret handshake that he practices the motions for over and over again because it's fun. Maybe when he and Robin become friends, he can listen to her infodump about foreign languages, and then he can tell her all about sports statistics without worrying that she's going to tell him to shut up. Maybe he can talk to Eddie about cars and learn about them from a new perspective, and he can soak the information up and never wonder if Eddie is getting sick of talking to him. Maybe, with time and distance, he can realize that he and Nancy just hadn't been what the other needed, that she had never hated him, and he can be a goof around her again, and they can make each other smile
Maybe, bit by bit, Steve learns that he doesn't have to cut himself into small pieces in order to be loved, and he thrives
-
Gently tagging @paperbackribs, @estrellami-1, @momotonescreaming, tag-back for @devondespresso, aaaand hell, anyone else who wants to talk about their brainworms. Tag me and show me, I love hearing about people's ideas c:
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weemsfreak · 11 months ago
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Nobody Like You
Happy Valentines! Whether you enjoy this commercial holiday or not, do/buy something nice for yourself! Larissa would want you to ;)
I suppose this is a more joyful part/addition to my story All The Time
Platonic Larissa Weems x StudentReader ~3.1k words
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You knew of nobody who felt the same.
Nobody who recognized, no-
revelled in the beauty of women as they aged, as the depths of their emotion became more evident in their skin, as they formed crows feet, as they became wiser;
as they lived.
Nobody like you.
You always felt that it was rather odd, to bask in their light, their entire being, and let it absorb you completely, to the point where you cared about nothing and nobody else.
It hurt, knowing that they didn't feel the same about you.
It led you to believe that you were ugly, unwanted, a sliver of a soul compared to them, insignificant.
Recently, however, you've grown just a bit.
You’ve began to tell yourself that you are rather lucky.
You have the privilege to see what others don't and feel what they never could.
You have been graced with the ability to learn and admire.
Women have taught you many things over the years, although, you didn't realize until now.
You have been blessed with the ability to adore and cherish them, perhaps when nobody else cared to do so.
As odd as you may feel, pressured by societal norms, women make you feel alive.
You allow your dark thoughts to get the best of you, until you remember that there is good in everything.
Something has to make you feel, you have to live for something.
And so, despite the hurt, and the confusion, and the guilt, you let it make you feel.
You let yourself feel and you tell yourself that maybe women deserve you, in a way that you're willing to give and a way they're willing to accept.
Maybe they deserve to be admired, maybe they deserve to be cared for.
Maybe they deserve to be looked at like they hung the stars and crafted the moon, maybe they deserve to feel beautiful.
Of course, you didn't think 'maybe'; you had no doubt they did.
But they have been beaten and bruised and used, and therefore they didn't see it in themselves.
You knew they didn't.
So you thought and thought and finally accepted the fact that maybe this was your purpose in life, no matter how insignificant you felt.
Maybe your purpose was to make women feel worthy, by a gesture, a compliment, or a glance, even if you didn't feel worthy yourself.
For perhaps maybe one day a woman would come along and do the same for you.
And until then, you'll long for them, admire them, and soak in their beauty in the way that you're willing to, and in the way that they're willing to accept.
And until then, that will be enough.
༺♥༻
You were observant, very detail oriented. People always told you that.
It gave others the illusion that you cared.
That was a good thing, and you took it as such.
That was, until those times where being observant hurt, where the fact that you actually did care so much hurt.
It hurt when you noticed her become increasingly tired, more irritated, and less enthusiastic throughout the year.
It hurt when you saw less of her, when the events became more bland, and when that usual sparkle in her eyes as she spoke dulled.
Usually it was with utmost passion, but lately, you could see that she was forcing it.
Faking it like her life depended on it.
You could chalk up your recognition of these changes in her to your observant nature, you could.
But, you knew it was way more than that.
She was your inspiration, your motivation, and your love.
She was the beauty, madness, and order of the entire universe.
And, she was sad, lonely, and tired.
So no, you didn't just notice her or recognize these changes; they were thrown at you with force and left bruises on your chest. They bled internally and seeped through your tissue to your heart until it hurt.
༺♥༻
You winced as she stepped up to the podium, stumbling as she failed to pick her heeled foot up high enough.
No, she didn’t fall, for if she had have, you would've ran up to her, despite being more than ten feet away, and caught her as she did.
Instead, she recovered and gave a sheepish smile to the crowd. You smiled back to make her feel better, knowing she wasn't looking your way.
You watched with bated breath as she walked through the corridor, face void of emotion.
Nothing wrong with that, really, people would tell you that you had resting bitch face.
But, as it was characteristic of you, it wasn't characteristic of her.
Usually she greeted students with a smile that gave you the strength to get through the rest of your day.
Sometimes she even gave you a nod or a wink, or if it were a blessed day, a gentle hand on your shoulder as she asked how you were.
But now, as she strutted through the crowd of teachers and students, you knew that she was tired.
One night, you found her at the weathervane, ordering a hot chocolate and a croissant.
It was a Friday night as she sat at a booth across from you, your heartbeat picking up rapidly as you watched light hair and long legs stride past.
You didn't know much of her personal life, she was your principal, after all.
But, despite your inability to understand why, you knew deep down to your soul that she was lonely.
Lonely like you.
And as you watched her sip her hot chocolate alone, her eyes wandering around the café and painfully landing on you, you thought that you were rather lucky, and you made her a promise.
You would never stop trying to make her feel beautiful.
You would never stop trying to bring her some joy.
Maybe you were young and naive, and maybe you were nothing to her, but some kind words and a kind gesture, someone who really cared, could mean the world.
You really had nothing to lose, (besides your dignity) and so, you put your pride aside, and made it your purpose to help her feel worthy; even if you didn't feel worthy yourself.
You smiled, she smiled back with a nod. Standing, you grabbed your drink and made your way to her booth. As you stood across from her, reluctantly gazing down into her blue eyes, you found that they held galaxies, the secrets of the universe, the weight of the outcast world, and perhaps the normal as well.
"May I?"
She nodded, gesturing with a gloved hand to the empty seat across from her.
You had no clue what to say. Well, without sounding totally creepy.
'How are you? Sad, lonely, bored, scared, confused? Because I am.
But I'm just clueless and young, and I'm just obsessive and dumb, and you are…intelligent and worthy and beautiful.
There is nobody like you.'
No, you couldn't say any of that, because she didn't know you like you knew her, and she didn't love you like you loved her, and she didn't think you were worthy like you thought of her.
"How have you been Principal Weems? I haven't seen you much lately, busy?"
She nodded and let her gaze fall to her hot chocolate, "Yes, it's quite busy this time of year. Very tiring."
'Of course it is, it must be busy running a whole school, let alone a school full of outcasts.
It must be busy planning events in hopes of keeping our heads out of the gutter and opening our eyes to the world.
It must be tiring caring for us when nobody else does, being the only one who gives a shit and being the only one to try.
It must be tiring fighting to live with yourself, it must be tiring praying and hoping to finally feel happy, to finally feel loved.'
Because it was, you knew, it was every second of everyday.
It was busy. It was tiring.
But you didn't say any of that.
You looked down at your hands as you twisted them in your lap.
"If it's any reconciliation, I think Nevermore is running really smooth lately. I feel safe here, and I really enjoyed the last event that you planned."
Suck up? No. You probably sounded like it, hell you were expecting her to say it.
People have in the past when you were just trying to be…kind.
But Principal Weems wasn't judgemental or rude, she wasn't a prude, and she wasn't suspicious of you.
A crooked smile pulled at her lips as her eyelashes fluttered, "Thank you, darling."
She placed an open hand on the table, your eyes flit between it and her gaze, then you placed your hand in hers.
"I appreciate your acknowledgement, I'm glad you feel safe here."
Of course you would acknowledge her, yearn for her, bathe in her entire being, feel safe under her authority, feel safe in her care.
Of course you would admire her from afar and wish that she would at least notice you back.
Of course you were trembling, attempting to steady your hand in her soft and gentle touch.
"Of course. We see how hard you work for us, how much you care."
'We' really meant 'me', but she didn’t need to know that.
For maybe the teachers and your peers and the people of Jericho noticed, maybe they noticed her input and effort, maybe they saw her anger and fear, maybe they knew of her loneliness and betrayal, but you were the only one to say anything, you were the only one to give a shit.
You were the only one to do something about it.
༺♥༻
And do something you did.
February came around rather quickly, your peers making Valentines and 'Galenites' plans in front of your very eyes.
You didn't think much of this commercial holiday, but you knew that some dreaded the day, being surrounded by people who had someone who loved them. Or at least liked them.
And since you had no partner, no love, no like, and no real friends; you had no plans.
No plans until you willed yourself to make some.
You planned with more effort and care than you ever had in your life, pushed away your immense fear of rejection, and made a promise to her.
For when the day came, you would make sure she knew she was admired, and you would make sure she knew she was cared for, as she had done for Nevermore.
As she had done for you.
༺♥༻
That morning, you printed a photo from a recent outing, one in which you were standing next to her, your smile stretched from ear to ear, unlike any other photo you had ever taken.
You made your classmates sign the back as a kind gesture for the principal, hoping to make it look as though you were not the only one in on it.
During your lunch you basically ran into Jericho, to the flower shop and the Weathervane.
When school ended, you made your way to your dorm and grabbed her things.
Walking to her office with pride in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, you prayed that she would be there. Yet at the same time, you knew that she would be.
With bated breath you stared at the large wooden doors, closing your eyes and reaching out a hand.
Show her she's beautiful, show her that you care, show her that she's not alone, show her that you love her.
You knocked, and backed away.
The door opened with a creak as the principal gazed down at you.
She trailed her eyes over the items in your hands, a red gift bag and light pink roses, and a question rang in her head.
"Hello darling" she smiled, scrunching up her nose as she looked down at you with interest.
"Hi Principal Weems" you nervously stuttered.
She tilted her head in confusion, and then she understood.
"Those are beautiful roses you have there. I assume you want my help in their delivery, perhaps?"
Your heart fell as she peered down at you, eyes weary, lips pulled up at the corners with a soft grin that would let one believe she was alright, that she was fulfilled, that she was happy.
But, you knew better, it was her fake smile, her professional façade, her signature expression that screamed 'I am the headmistress and nobody can get to me'.
Show her that she's worthy.
You shook your head. "Um, no actually. They're for you."
You held the flowers out, watching as blue eyes landed on the roses being presented to her, mouth opening slowly in disbelief.
A hand reached out carefully, "For me?"
You nodded with a smile.
She took them and opened the door, moving a hand to your back to invite you in.
Placing the roses on her desk, she admired them as her head swam.
Was this a joke? Would she have to explain to you why she couldn't fancy you back? What was going on? Why? Could you really just be…innocent and sincere?
You could tell that her thoughts were going a mile per minute, so you stepped closer.
"I just wanted you to know how inspiring and cared for you are."
Her gaze quickly turned to you, eyebrows furrowing in attempt to understand, to believe.
Noticing her skepticism, you placed the gift bag onto her desk.
"We wanted to get you something to say thank you, that's all."
She reached for the bag and pulled out the framed photo, her eyebrows softening as she found students signatures and comments on the back, a special note from you.
She chewed at her bottom lip, and your heart swelled with joy at how beautiful she was.
Running a slender hand over the glass frame, she set it on her desk along with the roses.
Her eyes, filled with mirth, met yours as she reached into the bag and found a package of croissants from the Weathervane.
A grateful chuckle escaped her, and she placed a hand on her chest as she pouted.
You ran a hand through your hair nervously.
"I uh- I figured you had plans tonight, so I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from them. I just wanted to give these to you now, otherwise I probably wouldn't have at all."
The principal looked to the ceiling as a toothy smile puffed out her cheeks.
The lines in her skin became more defined when she smiled like that, and you longed to reach out and trail your fingers along her skin.
She was truly gorgeous, her smile was your lifeline.
You couldn't help but press your lips together into a small grin, desperately fighting the urge to burst at the seems.
She dropped the croissants onto her desk and opened her arms to you; you hesitated, looking up at her with what you hoped she would know was sincerity.
Her eyes watered and her lower lip trembled, and you let go, throwing yourself gently into the woman as you felt her long arms pull you against her warmth.
"Thank you, love, thank you" she whispered, sniffling into your hair.
You closed your eyes as you felt yourself tear up, and focused on the softness of her dress against you, her skin against yours, sighing as you finally felt comfort, finally felt care.
You were honestly proud of yourself. To see her happy, even if for a moment, to see her smile again, it was worth it, embracing your purpose.
She pulled away and wiped her eyes, looking down at the pink roses once more.
"I really appreciate you thinking of me darling, but I'm sure you want to get to your people."
You embarrassingly followed her gaze to the pink roses, rubbing your sweaty hands on your pants.
"I um, don't have any plans, or people. But I'll go, I'm sure you have somewhere to be."
Her gaze met yours in surprise, she tilted her head to the side in question.
"You don't have plans tonight?"
It was adorable when she did that, like a curious little puppy.
You shrugged, "No."
She pursed her lips into a lopsided smile, "Me neither."
Principal Weems wouldn't tell you how she really felt, for you knew her professionalism was of utmost importance. Her job, her image, her look, built up from the ground, her character exuded confidence and sophistication.
But occasionally, you had the ability, the privilege, to see through Principal Weems.
Sometimes when you looked deep enough into her eyes, into her soul, you found Larissa.
And Larissa, well she was someone you yearned to know.
She was someone you longed to touch.
She was someone you knew that you'd love.
And, you felt as if, right now, you could see a little bit of her, unwillingly yet necessarily crawling her way out after years of hiding, as she stared back at you with appreciation and tears.
Larissa had wished deeply that she would find someone with whom to make Valentine's plans, or maybe even just normal everyday plans.
But as the years went by, she lost hope.
And so, she stopped trying, she stopped caring, she stopped feeling worthy.
But, you came along, to her total surprise, with a kind and thoughtful gesture.
She scoffed on the inside, who would think of their principal on Valentines day?
Who would buy gifts for a lonely old woman?
Who would notice, who would care about her?
As she asked herself these questions, her brain ceased its fire, for she found the answers in your lingering gaze.
Her heart paused, or so it felt like it, when she realized that for the first time in a long time, someone could see right through her.
Someone could see her façade wear off, her failure to pick her heeled foot up, her rapidly dulling eyes and her loneliness.
Someone could see it, and that someone cared enough to do something about it.
And, as if you knew her brain suddenly filled with self doubt and panic, you summoned the courage to tell her exactly how you felt.
"I admire you very much, Principal Weems" you hesitated, "and Larissa. I hope I'm lucky enough to be as beautiful as you are one day, inside and out."
Someone thought she was beautiful, someone admired her.
Someone looked up to her.
Someone thought that she was worthy.
Someone had no plans for Valentine's, and she shivered at the thought of someone following in her footsteps, her unlucky streak of lonely and sorrow filled years.
Her heart ached as she thought about how someone felt just as she did.
For nobody had gotten to her before, nobody had attempted to get past the force that was Principal Weems; nobody had cared enough to find and to know Larissa.
Nobody like you.
"You know, I have Valentine's cookies that I was going to bake by myself."
Larissa chuckled at her embarrassing admittance.
"Would you like to bake them together?"
༺♥༻
222 notes · View notes
seoafin · 2 years ago
Text
pairing: vash the stampede x fem!reader warnings/tags: jealous insecure vash, you get hit on twice, vash's pov gets kinda depressing, takes place before and after and I know it’s hard enough to love me, stampede coded vash word count: ~4.3k
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Vash the Stampede is a complete enigma to you.
In the span of the four hours you’ve been following after the blonde, you’ve witnessed him get bullied and dragged around by a group of children who had unanimously decided to tie him up for fun, help a distressed woman find her poisonous pet gecko, and frantically try to explain his startling similarities to the humanoid typhoon to a threatening group of individuals who had cornered him on the street, loaded guns in their possession. 
You watched him nervously laugh off their claims until they had left, one by one. Then he breathed a large sigh of relief, before meeting your eyes with a grin and two thumbs up.
He just can’t say no.
You’re still thinking about this troubling tendency of his when you slide off the rooftop, and twist through the alleys to the bar you had seen when you and Vash had first entered the town yesterday.
This time, he’s following you. He must have run out of people to help. All the way to the bar. And when you enter through the swinging entrance, you don’t need to turn around to hear the doors swing open again, not even seconds later.
Shouts ring throughout the bar, as several patrons happily greet him with a raised mug of beer and smiles. Already, he’s grown on people.
You slide onto a barstool. “I’ll have a drink,” you say, giving the idling bartender your order. The aged man proceeds to pull several bottles from the rack hanging behind him. You look over your shoulder to see Vash sitting down at a round table behind you. When he catches your gaze, he smiles, hand already lifting in an eager half wave as his fingers curl into air. 
You don’t understand how he can look so happy to see you, as if you're an old friend he’s seeing for the first time in years, every time you meet his eyes. As if you haven’t been traveling together for the last few months. You've never stayed with an individual for longer than a week or two, other than your mother, but you know for sure Vash is strange. An outlier. You don’t understand how he constantly stays happy, upbeat and optimistic. No man is that happy, upbeat and optimistic. It’s suspicious.
The acrid scent of smoke and alcohol enters your nose before anything else, and then a hulking man with a bulbous nose is sidling up close to your side, despite the empty seats next to you. You ignore him as he gives you a long look up and down. The man in front of you mixing your drink gives him a distasteful glance. 
A wide, crass grin stretches his face as he licks his lips. 
“Yer a pretty thing, ain’t ya?”
You stare ahead. He’s not even worth brandishing your gun for.
He frowns when you don’t respond, trying again. “Whatcha doin’ in here, in this part of town? A lil’ lady like you is going to get eaten by the wolves.” He leans in close, and his breath fans against your cheek. You don’t bother to hide your distaste when he indiscreetly adjusts his pants. “I’ve got a place downtown…”
You’re going to shoot him, you decide.
Your hand goes to your side, but before you can remove your revolver, a blur of red rushes into the sliver of space between the two of you, forcibly separating the man from you. With his back to you, Vash lifts his hands in an act of surrender. The man tries to no avail to move towards you in either direction, but Vash swiftly meets him every time before he can step towards you.
“We—”
“What’s yer deal!?” The man asks angrily, drawing Vash close, hands fisted into his shirt, teeth gritted. Vash is taller than the man, so to see him tuck his knees inwards to be level with the man would be almost comical if you weren’t so annoyed.
A high pitched laugh escapes through his teeth. “Ahaha! About that—”
“She yours or somethin’!?”
Your already short patience stretches thin.
Panic floods his face as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Of course n—”
“Then it’s none of yer business anyhow,” he grouses, leaning in close. “Why dontcha butt out, and that way nobody gets hurt.”
“No,” Vash says firmly, unusually solemn, all pretenses of distress fading in a blink. He grabs the man’s arm with a steady hand of his own. “I can’t.”
You step to the side, and point your gun right at the man’s temple, already cocked. The bar quiets, eyes on your standoff. In your peripheral you can see multiple hands on belts, ready for a shootout. Vash’s eyes go wide, mouth agape as he looks at you. Then your gun. Then at you. 
“Put him down,” you say plainly. “I’m not going to ask again.”
“Yeah, put him down Eli!” A voice exclaims. 
Others voice their agreement. 
The man blinks. Then he throws his head back and uproariously laughs, fist loosening on Vash’s shirt, letting him down with a slump. “Playing with guns, little girl? Why don’t you come on over, I’ll teach you the right way—”
You aim down, and pull the trigger.
A single shot rings through the bar. The man shrieks in agony as the bullet goes through his foot, clean. You watch him jump around on one foot, holding his other foot in his hands, crying out for help as blood gets everywhere. What a mess. The bartender only shakes his head as people begin to surround the hollering man. You think he might as well kill himself now. Not a single survival instinct. The last thing he should be doing after a bullet wound is moving around like a headless lizard.
You throw a sack of coins on the bar. The drink you hadn’t even gotten and damages to the floor. You grab Vash by the hood of his red coat and drag him out the bar as he gawks at you. You drop him outside and start towards the town’s caravan stop. In a few seconds, Vash has caught up with you, side by side.
He looks troubled. Lost in thought. 
“I didn’t kill him,” you say. Although you probably would have not even three months ago. That would have ensured you wouldn’t be bothered in the town again by a handsy drunk.
You don’t know why you feel the need to explain yourself. You figure you can’t keep silent when he’s looking at you like that , waiting for some kind of explanation that you would usually never entertain.
“Should I have let him all over me?” You ask tonelessly.
The snaps him back to attention. “No! It’s just…” he sounds unsure, almost uneasy. “You were just…protecting yourself.”
You wonder what kind of life he’s led. To be able to be the way he is. A pacifist, in this world. Someone who refuses to pull the trigger on his .45 long colt unless absolutely necessary.
“Not everybody gets to choose to not kill,” you reply, not as curt as you could be. “Some people don’t have a choice.” Not everybody has the strength to protect themselves without violence. Sometimes, it’s just survival. The choice between you or them. Sometimes, it wasn’t anything more than that. No hard feelings. The second your hands had touched your revolver, you had gained your footing in the world. The gun, the great equalizer. And in your hands, death. 
You never had a choice. And then you did.
Vash’s face falls. “I…I see.”
You find yourself searching for words, anything at all to wipe the miserable expression on his face away. “I didn’t kill him,” you say slowly. “But I could have.”
He lifts his head, blinking. “You… could have,” he repeats.
You don’t say that had the man come any closer, if he had touched you, you would’ve put a bullet in his head, right through his brain. And then you would’ve let the animals have him.
Vash slowly regains his smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But you didn’t.”
Although the smile on his lips often seems more trained than instinctual, a defense tactic, you can’t deny that in the end, a smile suits his face much more. 
“I can take care of myself,” you say, fixing your gaze straight ahead.
He hums. “I know.”
You sigh.
-
-
-
“Over here!” Tony exclaims, wildly waving at Vash for a pass.
Vash kicks the ball over, watching as the other children surround the freckled short boy, eager to steal the ball back to their side. They had divided the teams seven to three, the children citing that the team with Vash on their side had the upper hand, therefore it was only fair for the teams to be unevenly divided. Vash had no qualms with it, neither did Tony or Sonya, who had grabbed Vash by the arm (shorter frame pulling him down to her level) and declared that the next victory would be theirs.
He can’t help himself. He looks towards where you’ve been sitting by the benches in front of the town square’s fountain, watching him kick around a ball for the better half of the hour with the town kids, unmoving, except for the small curve of your lips. Vash can tell when your gaze is on him. Some eighth sense that also has him gravitating towards your orbit, unconsciously and consciously. His feet take him to you, wherever you are. Lucky for him, nowadays, he doesn’t need to walk more than a couple steps to reach you.
Usually you’d be gone, taking care of your own business while he explored the town or city, and its inhabitants, before the inevitable bounty hunter or criminal looked a bit too closely to his face, his red jacket, and made the connection. Maybe you’d stop by the sheriff’s office, flashing your identification badge, and then flip through recent wanted posters. Maybe you’d get a bite to eat. Then you’d just follow the bullets and the trail of destruction to easily meet up with him.
He never knew definitively. You had never really answered his curiosity with more than a noncommittal comment or two. It doesn’t matter now though, because now you stay with him.
The sun looks good on you. He doesn’t realize he’s staring at you until a ball hits him smack in the face and drops to the ground, leaving him with a sore, red face and a bruised nose. The kids startle to a stop, gawking at him with wide mouths. There’s silence, and then raucous laughter.
“Vash!”
“Is he okay?”
“C’mon Vash, you lost the ball!”
“It hit him in the face, did you see that?”
“That’s a foul! You did that on purpose Lock!”
“Nu-uh!”
He sees you shake your head, amused, and knows that the warmth he feels isn’t entirely from the sun.
Tony runs towards him, ball held against his chest, breathless. The blue cap he wears is askew. Vash fixes it for straight. “You alright, Vash?”
Vash runs a hand through his hair and laughs. “No harm done,” he says cheerfully. “Guess I wasn’t paying attention, sorry about that!”
Sonya looks concerned. “Don’t worry about that! It’s all Lock’s fault anyway!” She turns around, sticks a finger under her eye, pulling it down, and blows a raspberry. “You’re horrible Lock!”
The older boy returns it with a raspberry of his own, and then crosses his arms. “He should’ve been looking in the first place, instead of at his girlllllfriend!”
Sonya’s eyes are wide as he feels his face go red. He nervously tugs at the collar of his shirt. The kids gathered around him erupt into laughter again. A quick glance in your direction, and he sees the raise of your eyebrow, lips tight in suppressed laughter he wishes he was there to hear.
“Is it true?” She asks him, brown doe eyes wide. “Is she your—” her voice drops conspiratorially “— girlfriend?”
He sticks a hand in the girl’s hair and gives her a good natured ruffle as she giggles. “Something like that,” he says, despite the elation that fills his stomach, to avoid fully answering the question, as if speaking whatever fragile thing the two of you have into existence might permanently alter it. 
Girlfriend.
What a mundane word for something as all consuming as the love he feels for you. He feels as if his chest might just burst with it all. But he can say that now, call you his in some way that makes him both terrified of overstepping his bounds and even more terrified of you leaving.  
“Hey Vash,” Tony says, insistently tugging on the sleeve of his coat. “There’s a guy chattin’ up your girl!”
You aren’t happy. That he can see clearly. Your expression has shuttered as a man closes into you with a wide smirk, overtaking his view of you. The last thing Vash can see is your thoroughly unamused expression.
He’s not aware of his feet taking him towards you. He doesn’t think. All he sees is how the man rests a hand on the holster of the gun attached to his hip, as if flourishing it, and he’s moving.
“A good ole’ romp in the bed is what you need,” he hears the man remark vulgarly. “Promise, it’ll fix you right up.”
“No,” you reply bluntly.
His cocksure grin fades with a scowl. “Now, don’t be like that. Nobody likes stubborn broads. I’ll be sure to show you a good time.”
An arm reaches out to roughly grab you, but Vash reaches him first, the metal of his left hand wrapping around the man’s wrist, tightening. The man yelps.
Vash blinks at the noise. You stare, looking at him with your head slightly tilted to the side.
He tears his arm back so quickly it gives him whiplash. His hands are automatically raised in a show of harmlessness as he nervously laughs.  
He hadn’t meant to grip him that tightly .
Unless… he had.
The man’s face is bright red in anger, looking at his left arm as if it’s the devil. “Who do you think you are!?”
Vash shifts ever so slightly to keep his arm out of view. It’s been a while since he’s been so self conscious. People asked questions, and sometimes they looked at him funny. It used to hurt his feelings, the way he was looked at as an outsider, even though he was. The rest of No Man’s Land wasn’t like the inhabitants of ship No. 3, who knew his origins. His identity as a plant.
Now it’s a constant reminder of it. Of Nai. Of their first of many confrontations a hundred years ago.
He’s not human, not like the man in front of him. Not like you. 
You stand, asserting yourself into the space between him and the man. You give him a dismissive look, before grabbing him by the left hand, and turning on your heels, pulling him along. Your fingers squeeze his metallic fingers in a way that shoots sparks up his arm, right to his heart. As you drag him along the kids holler their goodbyes, and all he can do is smile, wave back, and follow. He’d follow you anywhere, he thinks, easily keeping up with your pace. To the ends of No Man’s Lands to space and back.
He wonders if you’re angry. If you’re annoyed at his intervention. He hadn’t meant to be so…forward. His body had moved before he could think. 
But…you’re…you’re his now, aren’t you? You kissed him, held his face between your hands, and smiled. You don’t smile a lot, but you smile for him. He thinks that if anything, that means the most. When he told you he wasn’t human you readily accepted it, as if you had been expecting it. Then you asked him if it hurt when Nai had cut off his arm, and when he told you he hadn’t felt much of anything, really, from the shock, because he was a plant, you had frowned and told him to stop lying. 
Now, the two of you sleep together. You let Vash hold you in his arms, and he tucks you into the crook of his neck, and you don’t even complain when he locks you in his embrace, even though you could. Even if you could leave. And on nights he can’t fall asleep, terrified that in the morning you’ll have been nothing but a fantasy, he counts your soft slow breaths in his neck until the sun rises, the seconds until you wake up and give him that sleepy smile he likes to think is reserved just for him. 
So now Vash stands closer to you than he had ever previously dared. In larger cities with crowds, he’s right at your side in the bustle taking the brunt of the jostling as you lead the way. And when there are no locals to make conversation with, no children to entertain, he trails after you, wherever your whims take you. You like heights. Rooftops. High vantage points from where you can look down. He thinks it makes you feel safer. You’ve always been aware of his presence, even though you never used to acknowledge him. Now you do. Now you let him hold your hand, and he doesn’t feel like Vash the Stampede, whose sins stare back at him every time he catches his face in a reflection, but a man hopelessly in love.
You push him up against a wall in an abandoned alley, and he relishes in the close proximity, smiling dumbly when you lean into him. He’s not expecting you to kiss him, but it sure would be nice—
Until he remembers that you might be mad. That he had accidentally hurt that man. The yelp that had been twisted out of him. The smile promptly falls from his face.
“I—uh—”
“Are you okay?” You ask.
“Of course I am,” he says cheerily, but all he can think about is that man reaching for you, the gleam of desire in his eyes (directed towards you ), and his two whole arms (one more arm to hold you with), and there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach, a wretched miserable thing that hovers a bit too close to the surface of his face. “Just fine!”
Your eyes narrow, just imperceptibly, while you scrutinize him in silence. His gaze momentarily darts away, fleeing, and then back, to see that you’re still staring at him, eyebrows furrowed as if you’re trying your best to think of something to say. Words don’t really come easy to you. Vash thinks it’s cute, that thinking silence of yours, where he can almost see the gears in your head turning as you struggle for an empathetic response after years of curt silences and dry one worded responses.
You purse your lips, bottom lip jutting out ever slightly.
Cute.
“Liar.” You glance down at his left arm, and Vash resists the urge to hide the prosthesis behind him.
A shadow falls on your face as you look down. “Is it me?”
“No!” He blurts out. Guilt churns in his gut, and he’s not sure if it’s because he hurt that man or because he isn’t sorry. He wants to say that he didn’t mean to, but that would be another lie. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him badly. Just… enough that he’d leave you alone. That he’d stop looking at you like that as if he wasn’t there. There was already someone by your side.
“I shouldn’t have hurt him,” he says finally. He can’t help himself when he adds, a touch defensively, “But he shouldn’t have been…” Vash feels a rush of heat reach his ears from your discerning gaze. “He…” almost touched you. He would’ve yanked you up, been rough with you, and just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean that it’s okay. Sometimes, he thinks you’re too used to it. Every night he counts the scars on your body with the same tenderness you’ve afforded him, that he doesn’t deserve, and he feels his heart weigh heavier.
Vash would never forgive himself if you got harmed on his watch. 
You look up at him. “He…?”
He isn’t…getting ahead of himself is he?
He loves you, and not a night goes by where he doesn’t think it. He’s loved you since the night you pulled him close and kissed him. He’s loved you since the moment he realized that the silence wasn’t so bad, so lonely, when he had someone to share it with.
He had assumed he meant as much to you as you do to him—
Your lips twitch into a small smile, and the sight stops his thoughts. You step closer and bury your face into his neck. His arms automatically wrap around you as he relaxes into your body, smiling at the ground.
“I love you,” you murmur, so soft that even his ears strain to hear it. He doesn’t even have the time to feel giddy before you pull back, reach for his neck, and bring his lips to yours.
He’s eager to reciprocate. The worry that maybe he’s holding you tightly around the waist doesn’t even strike him until a second later, but by then you’re happily exhaling into his mouth, and raking your fingernails down the back of his neck until he’s shuddering into you. 
You back him against the wall without a missed beat and he happily follows. One of your hands snakes down to his prosthetic, entwining your fingers together. He gives your hand a squeeze back and when you smile against his lips, he knows that it’s the most lovely sight he’s ever seen. The first time he had ever seen you smile, it had invoked the same amazement and wonder in him as seeing Rem’s red geraniums for the first time. 
But you aren’t a flower to be gazed at and plucked by curious onlookers. This smile is just for him. And Vash thinks, once again, for the fifth time in a day that hasn’t ended, that as much as he loves you, he also doesn’t deserve you.
He’ll tell you again tonight. This time, while you’re awake. Not…everything. Not enough that it could scare you away. Just enough, like how he likes gazing at you when the sun hits your bare frame in the scarce mornings the two of you have a bed, or the way your eyes light when they meet his, after a few hours apart. How it makes him feel…
Like a child again. Happy. The world at his fingertips. In the bed he and Nai would share, watching clips of some old earth movie underneath the covers. In Rem’s hugs, his arms wrapped around her neck, clinging to her tightly, as if she might disappear if he opened his eyes. The sound of her laughter in his ears. Lovely and fleeting.
Pressed against him, all the warmth of your body and lips, a breathy moan builds up in his throat as you have your way with him. As selfish as it seems, he wants more. As much as you’re willing to give. As much as he dares to take. He likes the way you say his name, especially when you’re in the throes of pleasure, when you’re looking down at him with so much love that he’s choking on his words, and his chest aches with it.
Someone giggles.
You separate, your lips enticingly spit slicked and swollen, your thumb tracing the underneath of his right eye. You like his beauty mark, have remarked on it more than once, the color of his eyes, and every other part of him that makes him flush from head to toe. He knows he’s not much to look at, but every part of him, except his burdens, belong to you. And if you can find something worthwhile to look at when you look at him other than disgust and horror, then that’s more than enough.
He lets his arms fall from your waist as you step away, and he already misses your closeness.
“Children shouldn’t be eavesdropping,” you say coolly, but not coldly. There’s a glint in your eyes as heads pop up from the crates towards the back of the alley. 
“We were just making sure everything was okay!” Tony exclaims, running up to you. He grins knowingly at Vash and attempts a wink.
You raise an eyebrow.
Sonya approaches, dragging Lock with her. “ And Lock wanted apologize for hittin’ Vash in the face!”
“Wha—!?” Lock sputters, looking at the girl in betrayal. “Sonya!” He squints at the ground. “...Sorry.”
Vash kneels down. “Apology accepted,” he says softly, a smile on his lips. He’s a good kid. So are all the kids in this town. Sonya with her ever present glowing smile. Tony and his mischievous wit. The blue cap he doesn’t go without. Lock and his grudges which hide a large, genuine heart. Billy and Mary and Kirk and everyone else.
Vash is almost tempted to stay a couple more nights, but he knows he can’t. Not with Nai having been spotted to the South. Another plant stolen, more fatal casualties. He has to leave before there are more. If he were a better person, he’d leave you behind. He stares at the ground.
He briefly feels the weight of your gaze. You gather the kids’ attention.
“You kids hungry?”
Tony and Sonya and Lock perk up.
“I am!” Tony says.
“You’re always hungry!” Sonya scowls.
“Are you the one with the money?” Lock asks. “Cuz’ Vash is broke.”
That draws a huff of laughter from you as Vash smiles sheepishly, pushing the worries plaguing his mind away for now. Until night falls upon No Man’s Land, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms. That’s when he’ll worry about whether or not he deserves to be happy with you.
Sonya reaches up to grab your hand with a big smile. You glance at him.
“Any good pizza places around here?”
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fridayth13 · 9 months ago
Note
I just read your Zhongli reuniting with his wife fic and I absolutely adore it! Could I request a continuation of that where the two talk things out and forgive each other?
galaxies unseen in shavings of jade.
↳ zhongli × gn!immortal!artist!reader
↳ part one, part two
↳ genre: angst with a happy ending | wordcount: 2.8k | warnings: none that i can tell
↳ notes: HI 😭 god sorry that took so long. between the writers block and the anxiety i struggled to end it in a way that made sense. but i think im happy with what i made here. i really did enjoy writing both the first and second part of this :') so i hope you enjoy this one just as much
shoutout to @ad0rechuu for helping me out of writer's block :')
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Truth be told, Zhongli had no idea how to talk to you. He was clumsy in matters of the heart. Despite all his years and experience, he could never have prepared himself for how thoroughly you bewitched him. He wondered if you noticed at some point and simply never told him. While embarrassing, it did relieve him in a way. It only meant you didn't mind it. The mere fact that you allowed him the grace of holding you close meant you might have even been enamored by his eccentricities. He would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified of you pulling away one day. What would he do with himself then?
Unfortunately, he'd gotten his answer.
Inexperienced as he was with the heart, the Geo Archon was steadier than the oldest rock formation; stubborn as a boulder that refused to break through the horrors of the Archon War, and through the deep ache of losing you.
He braved through it. Though not without the damage.
Five hundred years later, there was no more war in Liyue. No more strife and suffering tearing through his nation. But most strikingly, no you. He was plagued late in the night with the thought of giving back the era of peace if it meant he could have even a sliver of your presence in his life again.
He couldn't do that. He wouldn't.
But he thought of it. Frequently.
One day after the war, he couldn't find you anywhere. Sunrise had just begun to peek past the mountains, lightening the shadow of night, as if Celestia had descended to celebrate the end of the war. It had been a long night of fighting. Issuing orders among his adepti. Finding out what he should say to you when he got home.
You were both incredibly stubborn. It was a part of you Morax adored, no matter how many arguments the two of you went through because of it. But he feared the night before may have gone overboard. He'd thought you were being foolish, trying to risk your life on the battlefield. What were you thinking? Didn't you know how far everything would fall if you were to get hurt on his watch? Didn't you understand how much the guilt would consume him? How much he would crumble without you to steady him? You were his partner. His confidante. His everything.
He didn't understand you either. Didn't understand that you only wanted to help. That you wanted to prove he didn't have to be alone on the frontlines. That you would have his back as readily as he would have yours. Too late, did he finally think of it that way. It was only after the words have been said, like venom being spat. Morax had gone back to his war, exactly what you told him not to do. And as for you, it seemed you had followed suit.
He sought you out immediately. Days and nights of searching later, he found you speaking with General Musatas.
"I'm leaving."
All these years later, Zhongli knew how much of a mistake this was— he hid. Your words sent a chill through him, as if his blood had turned to ice. Despite the slight tremble in your voice, there was a bit of fire there. The one he recognized in you when you were set on a decision.
"Are.. Are you sure?" Yingda questioned. Her voice dropped to a hesitant whisper, and he had to strain to hear. "But Morax—"
"Forget Morax." You snapped. "I can't speak with him right now. Don't tell him where I'm going please."
"I don't even know where you're going." She exclaimed. "Yn.."
"I'll be safe. You know I can handle myself." Then, with some bitterness: "At least, someone does."
Yingda whined, unsure. "Will you return.. one day? Will we be able to see you again?"
The warmth in your voice made your lover ache.
"Liyue is at peace. I'm sure I will see you lot again at some point. Maybe even at the little harbor the humans have constructed. You spoke of wanting to go there with your fellow yakshas, haven't you?"
"Yes, but.. Are you sure? Truly sure you want to leave?"
You paused. Morax grasped at the silence with bated breath.
"Yes." You said.
Then all the wind was knocked out of him. The war was over. He'd been defeated. He couldn't even find it in himself to watch you go.
A moment of weakness was stolen in between the five hundred years of stubbornness.
You, wrought through nightmares of the Archon War and exhaustion weighing you down like an anchor, trudged through the harbor. Your arms wrapped around your figure in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the cold night air.
It was a moment between moments— witnessed by only you and the swarm of stars in the heavens.
You'd stopped at the bridge, bracing yourself on the rail with a heavy exhale.
You missed him. His warmth. His voice.
Visions of spilled ichor and the ruthless clang of weapons filled your pained mind.
You wished you lost the argument all those years ago.
You hated that.
You hated him. You hated yourself.
You missed him more though.
For a mere second, slowed by fear and the precariousness of your hope, you opened your mouth, about to speak.
And then the second ended. Tears spilled from your eyes, warming your cool face. You thought only of bloodshed. From the war, and whatever it was that happened to your relationship after it.
You cursed yourself. You couldn't just call him now, could you? Not after deserting him and vowing never to come back.
You conjured the situation in your mind's eye. Rex Lapis, Geo Archon from even before the war— the most ancient and formidable of them all, summoned by his ex at the drop of a hat. It felt like a particularly unfunny joke made at your expense.
There was no way he'd want you anymore after all that.
And so that night remained a secret between you and the stars. And if you stayed at the bridge a few minutes longer with the unfounded hope he might see you there waiting for him, and still love you, then it was for only the stars to discuss.
The second biggest mistake of Zhongli's life was not running to you the moment he saw you again after all that time.
It was a little secret between him and the wind. And partially, Director Hu, who had accompanied him into the art exhibit in the first place.
It hadn't even been his intention to attend. A particular painting turned his head as he passed by— a meadow of glaze lilies. Not an uncommon scene portrayed by mortal artists. But there had been a certain feeling it evoked in him, catching his gaze a second longer than it ought to.
Hu Tao saw him looking at the painting and skipped inside despite his protest. And so, Zhongli breathed out a sigh and went after her.
"Was this the one you were looking at?" She asked.
"Yes." He eyed the painting with scrutiny. "Glaze lilies.."
Hu Tao hummed in agreement. "It is quite beautiful."
Zhongli agreed. But there was something else to it. Something that made him really rack his brain for the word— familiarity.
It had been centuries since a scene of glaze lilies bountiful enough to form a field so blue. He doubted any mortal would have lived long enough to have seen one, and yet, this particular depiction was spot on. Every azure brush stroke dashed over the canvas like rolling tides, perfectly recapturing the luster of seeing a glaze liliy's sparkling quality up close. Truly, a sea of them. Just as the poems of old described. Just how Zhongli remembered them before the flowers' numbers dwindled down to a rarity. Almost as if the painter themselves had been there with him to witness their bloom in spring.
Zhongli ended up enjoying the art exhibit, after all. He took extra note of the work by the artist of the glaze lilies. Whoever they were had a tendency for plain scenes. And yet, the depictions of things as mundane as jade shavings were as vibrant as galaxies, reflecting against the color of the harbor's light. He couldn't help but find a certain charm in the style. And the aforementioned familiarity. The longer he looked at each scene, the more he felt as though he was present when they were sketching out the shapes.
"Do you reckon we could find the artist at this very exhibit?" Hu Tao piped up.
Zhongli took a moment to realize she was speaking.
"Ah. Perhaps." He nearly stammered, then cleared his throat as he turned to look at her. "It is not uncommon for them to go about and ask opinions of their work."
"You know, you've been particularly attracted to this artist." Hu Tao teased lightly. "We do need your portrait done for the directory. Maybe I could ask them?"
Zhongli chuckled, about to respond to her quip.
Then there you were, turning around the corner. There were earthquakes with less magnitude than the effect you had on him.
Suddenly, everything made sense. The paintings were all yours. They were in your style hidden under a pen name. They were yours. As comfortable a sight to him as the ones you used to make sitting next to him in Jueyun Karst.
Panic seized him then. What would you think of him? Here? At your work? Would you spare him a glance after the first? Would you shun him? Remove him from the premises? No one knew who he was but you, but you alone was certainly enough for him to listen.
Worse yet, Hu Tao was present. She was an inquisitive woman. She was quite smart when she wanted to be, and Zhongli did not want to divulge five centuries worth of heartbreak with her, or even himself.
With a similar sentiment, he didn't know if he could handle being rejected by you a second time. He didn't want to cause you trouble at work where you were clearly enjoying yourself.
You made a coward out of him. You reduced the Archon of Liyue to a fumbling boy with a crush, even back then. Especially now. And in that moment, it was your brilliant smile that intimidated him most.
You looked happy without him.
You didn't know what had possessed Zhongli to run after you as you crossed the funeral parlor's threshold.
Brow creasing in bewilderment, you turned to him. It was only a few steps, yet he looked out of breath. Frantic, even.
"..Mr. Zhongli?"
"Please." You didn't miss the way he reached out, hand inches away from your own. It fell back to his side as he steeled himself to speak again.
You readjusted your bag hanging over your shoulder. "Yes?"
"Allow me to walk you back."
You raised an eyebrow at him.
"It's quite late. It.." He clasped his hands together behind his back, hesitating for a moment. "..I only want to be sure you reach your home safely."
So there you were, begrudgingly letting him walk you home. Only he didn't mention the fact he had no idea where you lived, so neither did you. For the moment, you were content with watching the pitiful jerk walk you in circles around the harbor, panicking and relaxing every few minutes as he tried to surmise which street he's supposed to lead you through.
Reach your home safely. What a joke. What, was he going to buy you flowers now too? The two of you had shared but a few conversations after all that silence, and he just.. Ugh. Did he think you were kidding? Did he think you would come crawling back or something?
Though, the longer you watched him, the more you felt as though you missed the mark. Maybe you had been getting ahead of yourself. He might only be being polite.
The two of you were standing by Chihu Rock, at the very edge of the bridge. For a moment, he turned to you as if he'd finally let the facade drop and admit he didn't know where to go, then he turned away again.
"Mr. Zhongli?"
"Yn."
You heaved out a sigh, tugging your bag closer over your shoulder.
"You don't—"
"I need to talk to you." He uttered, swiftly cutting you off.
Your throat seemed to close, leaving you out of breath despite the leisurely pace you'd taken throughout the walk. Unable to say anything, you only nodded.
Zhongli looked at you, amber eyes pinched with worry.
"I am truly sorry for what happened between us."
"You said that already."
"I–" Zhongli shifted his weight between his feet. He still couldn't quite look you in the eye. "I know, I just.. I don't think I'll be able to say it enough to compensate for the time I had spent brooding instead of.."
It was your turn to look away then, fingers twitching nervously along your bag strap. You could only watch his approach through the corner of your eye. He stopped mere inches away from you, his own gloved hands coming up like he didn't know where to put them; wondering if they still fit against you; shaking with the trepidation of it not being so. Of the very real possibility that you had.. moved on. Outgrown him. That he had been too late.
You remained strong, crossing your arms over your chest.
But your voice caught in your throat trying to get the words out. Your still couldn't meet his eyes. Then it all came out in a fragile whisper meant only for him. Hidden in the pocket of silence between you, under the hustle and bustle of the mortal night life, you whispered:
"What are you trying to say, Morax?"
Entirely unbeknownst to you, the use of his true name sent a shiver across his skin. Like a rush of adrenaline to push him along, it flowed through him in a spark of warmth.
He reached for your hand. He didn't quite hold it, moreso just your fingers, as if testing the waters of your tolerance.
How badly he wished he could kiss along your knuckles as he once had. How he ached for the blankness in your eyes to cease. To make way for the affection he allowed to get away from him.
What he didn't know was what you were thinking of: the night you went out to that very same bridge, aching for him in turn.
Well, there he was.
And there you were.
"Allow me back into your life." He pleaded at last. "Please, Yn, I.. I cannot afford to have you so close only for you to slip through my fingers once again."
"Morax.."
"I intend to fight for you this time." Zhongli's grip on your hand grew firm. "I should've done that long ago. I should have stayed with you, or I should have chased after you. I should have begged for you to stay, and I was a fool for not doing so. Forgive me."
You blinked at him. Your hand gripped the rail, thumb running nervously over the night-cooled wood. You were suddenly aware of the passersby at the edge of the city. A group of curious children watched you from afar, and in your attempt to ignore them, you looked up, and were forced to notice the glaringly close proximity you and Zhongli drew yourselves in. His cor lapis eyes cut like amber shards. Still, sincerity softened his expression. In turn, his earnestness softened you. You cursed him for how malleable he made you to his whims.
When you left, you had to build yourself back up. You learned how to stand on your own. You were so determined not to reduce yourself into some crying, besotted ex-spouse that you had confused loneliness for independence.
It hurt to realize that so late. It hurt that you could only realize that now, inches away from him, wanting nothing more than to forget yourself and cry into your lover's arms. It hurt just to look at him.
All this time, you could have just asked. There was no one to blame for your loneliness but you and your own foolish pride.
You sighed deeply, turning your gaze to the mountain ranges carving against the skyline.
"I don't feel like there's anything to forgive." You mumbled. His fingers crept into the space between yours as you talked. You held onto his touch with your very life. "I feel like I should be asking you that."
Zhongli frowned. "To that, I am not sure what to say."
You hummed, feet scuffing against the wooden planks of the bridge.
"Walk with me then? We certainly have time."
Your chest was alight looking at the brightness in his eyes when you said that.
"Gladly." Zhongli nodded, lightly squeezing your hand. You could see the corners of his lips fighting back a grin.
He really did miss you. As much as your emotional turmoil wanted to refute it, you knew him better than you could ever hate yourself. And you loved him more than anything.
You were only thankful he seemed to love you just as much.
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weaveandwood · 8 months ago
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Writing prompt - You and Gale are baking a cake - What happens?
Oh no cake batter found its way onto his dick
LMAO. I'm going to write this as Auroria and Gale , post Midwinter In Waterdeep when they're back together. Hiding under the cut because this got WAY more explicit than I thought it would. You're welcome! Thanks for the fun prompt!
NSFW 18+ Word Count: 1331 Warnings: Vaginal Sex
She returned to the cabin two days ago as promised, in advance of Morena's birthday party. Gale said they would typically order a cake from the baker, but Auroria suggested baking one together as a gift for her. Auroria and Gale had been married about a year, but she always felt a tug to try to impress Morena both in penance for the emotional turmoil she put her son through for seven years after their adventure ended and the desire for a mother figure in her life after not having that guiding figure for the last 27 years. Morena had said all was forgiven seeing how happy Gale was, but Auroria couldn't shake the feeling that she should always try harder.
She walked into their small kitchen from the cozy bedroom, seeing Gale already hard at work preparing the ingredients - eggs, sugar, flour, chocolate, butter. She walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. 
"We're supposed to bake this together, dear husband."
He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "You know, I never tire of being called that.”
“Good, because I will never tire of calling you that,” she smiled and stood beside him, looking at the neat countertop, everything in its place. “Let’s do this the old fashioned way, no magic.”
“Not even a little?” He looked flabbergasted. 
She shook her head. “No, it’ll mean more if it’s completely handmade. Besides, where is the fun if you don’t get a little messy every now and then?”
“Alright, alright, I surrender. You win again.” He laughed and kissed her softly, the spoon that was magically keeping the chocolate stirred, warm, and melted now laying still in the bowl. 
The pair got to work, Gale naturally taking the lead and instructing Auroria, who did most of the labor - mixing up the butter and sugar, adding the eggs, the chocolate, and finally the flour. Gale poured the batter into the cake tins and set them into their small oven. She stood with her hands on her hips, proud of the work they did and how well they worked together, even on this small project. Her previous demons were becoming smaller and smaller each time she came home. She loved what she and Gale had become.
“Not bad, we make a good team.”
“That we do, we hardly even made a mess..." He trailed off, surveying his beautiful wife, who had somehow gotten cake batter on both of her cheeks and the small sliver of skin showing at her chest in the opening of her top. He walked up to her, leaning in and used a finger to wipe the batter off her cheek. “I take that back,” he said, “you are covered in chocolate, Ora.” He laughed as he licked the batter off his finger. 
She shrugged. “Baking is messy, does the batter taste good at least?”
He leaned in closer, kissing her other cheek, licking off the batter. “Delicious.” He kissed down her neck, hitting that one spot that she liked before kissing down to the opening in her neckline, licking the batter off her chest. 
Auroria gasped, her hands moving into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp as he worked his way back up the other side of her neck to her earlobe. She tilted her head as he whispered, “I should see if you have batter anywhere else, my love.” She felt him tugging up the hem of her shirt, and she gladly lifted her arms up to help him. His hands immediately went to her breasts, kneading them gently, feeling her nipples getting hard under his deft touch. He unlaced her pants, pushing them off her hips to the floor, leaving her naked. She left out a soft moan as he touched her, which only made him want her more. “I need you, Ora. Now.”
“Hmm, first I think I need to make sure you didn’t get any chocolate on you, don’t you think?” She smiled, tugging at his shirt, knowing he didn’t have anything on him, but wanting to tease him just the same. She had never seen him take off his clothes more quickly - well, except maybe that first night in the Shadow Cursed Lands or the first Midwinter they reunited. She looked at him, his body softer with age and comfort though still athletic and absolutely, devastatingly perfect. The orb was now a faint scarring of lighter skin, mostly hidden by his chest hair. As her eyes traveled over his body, she saw exactly how much he desired her. 
“Sadly, I’m afraid you are perfectly clean, my love,” she said before closing the distance between them, kissing him deeply, reaching down to wrap her hands around him, already hard, and felt him groan into her mouth as she started to stroke him. He guided her back to the countertop as they kissed, then she felt his hands on her waist, lifting her up onto the countertop, still covered in flour. 
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers as his hand slid its way down her hips between her legs, rubbing her, feeling her wet for him already. “Gods how did I get so lucky? Look at you, it’s all I can do not to be inside you all day. I want you, please let me have you,” he practically panted, a finger sliding inside her. She loved his fingers for many reasons, but the way they knew exactly how to play her made her wonder if Gale was a musician in a past life. She arched her back, moaning softly. 
“Then have me, Gale. Have me.”
Gale wasted no time. His hands went to her hips, pulling her forward on the countertop so she was at the very edge before wrapping a hand around his hard cock, lining it up at her entrance before pushing it in slowly. He would never tire of this - feeling the way she gave around him, taking him in. A perfect fit. As he entered her fully, all thoughts left him, as they usually did. He lightly bit down on her shoulder as he held her legs apart, thrusting slowly at first, then picking up speed. The sound of their bodies hitting together and their soft pants and grunts the only noise in the small cabin. 
“I will admit I don’t think I will last long, my dear. You feel too good this morning,” he panted, fucking her harder, feeling the familiar tension in his abdomen as he got closer to release. He could feel her tightening around him, knowing she was close as well. Knowing he could bring her to her own precipice this quickly helped spur him on. He reached between them, his fingers circling her clit, rubbing that precious bundle of nerves he loved to pay special attention to. 
She cried out as he rubbed her, holding onto his arms tightly. “Make me come with you,” she panted 
He fucked her hard, each stroke punctuated as he almost pulled out of her before slamming back in, keeping a good pace. He knew she liked it when he was steady. He felt her tightening up, her body going still. She was almost there. He leaned in. “Come for me Ora, I want to feel you around me, then I want to come deep inside you.”
His filthy words, his warm breath on her ear sent her over the edge. She gripped on to him, crying out loudly as her body tightened up and let go, orgasm rocking through her, feeling him fuck her through it. 
“That’s it,” he whispered, his strokes picking up speed as she came, his groans getting louder as he got closer and closer before he found his own release, crashing into her, spilling his seed deep inside her. He finally slowed down, a satisfied exhaustion creeping into his bones as he laid his head on her shoulder, laughing as he looked at her - she was covered in flour handprints, and he assumed he was as well.
“We should bake together more often,” she teased before he kissed her again.
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pursuitseternal · 9 months ago
Text
Secrets and Sensuality in Chapter 3 of “A Night with the Ascendant”
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Ascended Astarion x Spawn (Lumina) | E | 2.8K
🎨 by @snowfolly
Summary: Lumina confronts Lord Astarion about the sudden change in her abilities. She only finds more questions and a stronger curiosity over her possessive, obsessive Master who distracts her the best way he knows… in his bed.
CW: half-truths, smut as distraction, sneaky (not)-spawn Lumina, BG3 game references, No Tav, dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, throat fucking (that kind where she’s upside down off the bed).
Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist
Chapter 3…
⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️
“What happened?” Lumina asked, direct but softly as he let her in through their conjoining door.
“Good morning, my little mistress,” Astarion smirked down at her, looming over her for a moment too long before he stepped back to allow her inside. “It seems to be a beautiful day out,” he flashed her a devilish smirk as she drew to a stop in the patches of sun spilling from his windows.
“What… happened?” she just repeated. Oh, she was good, he assessed. Eyes downcast, and hands clasped softly, but the tension in her shoulders and jaw, that hard press of her voice in her throat…. He could tell she was nearly ready to scream.
He looked at his nails, perfectly manicured, keeping his eye from her diverted, if furious, scarlet stare. “You mean what gives you the power as a spawn of mine to stand in the sun… to feel so strong and powerful?” He glanced up sharply to watch her give a single nod. Controlled and suppressed, daring of her. “Simple, it is I who give you that power… it’s because of my generosity and favoritism towards you. No others will call those powers their own…” he lowered his hand, half of a bow to her in mock deference. “They are yours alone, my treasure, because you are mine.”
Lumina drew her little frame to its full height, still only reaching her face to his neck. “That may be, my lord, my love, but I know magic when I feel it.”
“My dear, my very existence is magic,” he swept his arms wide. “And you, blessed you, are the only one to share in a mere sliver of that magic.” He reached for her jaw, cradling it to draw her face even closer to his own. “Let that answer be good enough for you, my mistress,” he breathed, his words sweet in tone but exacting as a command. “I would give you anything to make you happy… the world, my own essence, my magic… to keep you as mine.” I pulled her forward and ordered her, “Kiss me.”
Lips devoured hers, fangs clacking on her own, his kiss branded her mouth and flooded her senses. But her mind still raced, seeking out those tendrils of his power that usually accompanied his orders. But they never came. She sequestered away that observation as she soon grew lost in his taste and touch that permeated every following coherent thought. Her body lifted into the air, cradled in his arms to then be rested gently in those silken sheets across his familiar bed.
No more thoughts crossed her mind, not as he hiked up her skirts and his cock slid into her, that scent of his skin, of perfume and sweat and sex intoxicating her. More, she needed more after being at such a great distance from her heart’s desire for so long before this. His voice hissed into her ear, lustful words that made her quake with need. “My little mistress, my little treat to savour, all flushed now and hot for me…”
Lumina groaned, her body indeed on fire now, pinned and naked for their pleasure. “Yes, gods yes…” she groaned as he filled.
“Much more to me than a plaything, than some spawn,” he continued. “So much more…”
Limbs hummed and clung to his frame as he began to slowly thrust in and out, that devilishly tempting pace she had grown addicted to. “But you seem to be having… fun, my lord.”
He chuckled deep in his throat, the vibrations passing into her own skull it seemed. “I am… it’s hard not to with you, my Little Light.”
She rewarded that with a kiss, a never ending tangle of tongues and gnashing of fangs that stole her breath. Lost was the end of her body and the beginning of his—he was everywhere all at once, as if his presence raged in her very veins.
Pleasure swept her away, time after time, round after round as he had savored her affections before his journey. And in the end, even in the pooling sunlight of the afternoon, she ended the same—resting semi-conscious and sweetly smiling in his bed. The last sensation she recalled were his smoothe, dexterous fingers brushing through her straw-golden locks.
Then she rested.
The sun had risen high by the time Lumina stirred. She stretched her aching muscles, looking out the open window to see the City bathed in the sun, to hear the voices of life whining in the distance from beyond the place walls. She stood, scanning his rooms to find herself alone. It was such a bright and airy chamber, it stole her breath, never having witnessed it during the day… before…
…before whatever it was that had given her this power to stand in the sun and not char to a crisp.
Crystal chandeliers gave off sparkles of light, the brilliant hues of leather covers dotting the room in a prism of colors. Such decadence and luxury and beauty.
Just like him.
But as her wits finally returned, as the allure of his sensuality faded, Lumina couldn’t push away those suspicions anymore.
What had she become… what did he do to her, this gift of being made his mistress. What did it all mean?
Perhaps, he hadn’t meant for her to wake up alone, perhaps this was a chance.
And, from what she knew in life, urchin wretches like her had to take their chances.
A
On silent feet, she scrutinized his room, those sharp eyes that could find any object out of the ordinary, the keen sense she had honed as an indentured servant, a slave to a brute of man, came back raging full force as she looked for… anything.
She scanned his vanity, nothing out of the ordinary, kohl for his eyes and bits of fine jewelry, a basket of rings, a collection of scents and oils for his body and hair. Just looking at them made her smell his scent in her nose.
It made her salivate and grow insanely wet between…
No, no. She had to keep searching.
Shelves, lined with books upon books, cast some of the only shadows in his room at this time of day. Tidy and cared-for, well-loved and organized. Each stack held different topics—botany and necromancy, the magic of Karsus, the history of Avernus, the legend of the Blade of Frontiers, and Sharan worship… such a unique collection of topics, she observed.
But something drew her notice… a smaller bound leather journal wrapped tightly in its own little bindings. Glancing at the door, she pulled this one from the shelves. Nervousness shook her hands.
Surely… he had been so generous before, letting her choose any book at whim. Even if this was a journal, not a book per se.
Opening the cover, it was written in a tight and exact hand. Each page was speckled with regular updates, lists of quests and questions… Observations of Illithids and healers, Tieflings and Goblins in the… Emerald Grove… little notes about individuals… the Daughter of Darkness… the Wizard of Waterdeep…
Lumina paused. Titles that rang some bell in her head about the history of Baldur’s Gate. Her mind whizzed through the stories, accounts from the history books told by the actors themselves. The heroes.
Finally her eyes settled on one list of notes on the Pale Elf….
“Astarion…” she breathed into the silence, “the Saviours of Baldur’s Gate.”
She sat down with the journal, pouring over it as she settled cross-legged on the floor. So many details and intricacies and trials and tribulations, stated so matter of factly… words flew by her in a flash, she couldn’t devour the notes fast enough. They were fables, tales from two centuries ago, the literal stuff of legends—those six companions and their tadpoles who brought down the Dead Three and the plot of the Absolute.
She could feel her heart racing, the account of Astarion, a slave and spawn, seeking vengeance against his tormentor and master, taking his power, taking for himself everything that was so long denied to him.
Her heart could burst… from pride in him, from envy for a story not unlike her own. For as much as those in the Upper and Lower Cities whisper about the Ascendant as ruthless, a monster… a villain. For all of that, he was her hero.
Astarion, her dark saviour, scooping her from the darkness to give her light… sent to sweep her off to his palace, giving her a place where she belonged.
With a sigh, she lost herself tin that feeling, her fingers tracing over the worn vellum pages in a sort of bliss….
“Little Light, whatever could be the matter?” his voice purred from above her. Glancing up, he towered from behind, his elegantly stitched trousers hugged his muscles. The ivory of its silk let all the heat of his body radiate against her back. “Why ever are you on the floor?” He leaned closer, his breath seeping into the mussed curls of her pale blonde hair. “And what have you… found?”
His voice dropped from that sultry velvet of a purr to something deeper. A growl.
Lumina gave a radiant smile from the floor at his feet. “Oh, just a uniquely scribbled little journal from two-centuries ago…”
A slow roll of a laugh drew closer as he crouched beside her, deftly his fingers grabbed the journal from her hands and tossed it across the room. “You should forget what you have read, my love. Ancient records of people long gone, names all but faded from history and time, mouldering graves and dusty bones…”
Her nose wrinkled at him, her pale brows furrowed. “Not you, not the Pale Elf…”
The scowl on his face silenced her faster than if he had smacked her across her cheek. “You will not call me that,” he snapped on each word. Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her to her feet before him to stop at the edge of his bed.
“I… I thought it would be acceptable to look through your books as you have allowed me to before…”
He laughed, low and quiet. Dangerous. “I leave you alone, my lovely little mistress for an hour or so, and you’ve gone and pried into things you shouldn’t have,” he hissed, bringing his lips right to her ear and nipping the soft flesh of its lobe. “Cheeky little pup. I’ll have to do something about it, like punish you.”
“P-punish?”
“Oh, no, nothing you won’t also enjoy, I’m sure,” he led her towards his bed, his hand wrapped firmly around her arm, touch hot through the silk sleeve of her dress. “After all, I am enamored of your spirit, your brilliance and sneakiness… but…”
He looked down on her, slowly slinking closer and closer until she butted against the edge of his bed. Instincts roared at her, she placed a hand on the thin fabric of his shirt and teased her fingers into the deep cut that ran down his chest. “If you want to play, all you have to do is ask. I don’t require threats of punishment to… be a good girl for you, my love.”
His grin spread like a shadow, silent and creeping, to twist his face. Lurching forward, he closed in on her, hands braced on the edge of the bed as she flopped down on her butt, almost bouncing on it. His smirk was elegant and dangerous. Just like him. “What a good little mistress you are… I’ll reward you for your spirit then, but I will remind you that I am no hero, Lumina. The man you read recorded in that journal is dead, along with all those other unfortunates…”
Those soft scarlet eyes reflected up at him, a sadness behind the shine of her lust. She licked her ruby lips and let a single fang bite into that pouting expression. Devotion incarnate, he grinned.
So many words filled her thoughts as she looked up at him. So many questions, all of them rooted deeply in her admiration for him and in the profound sadness she knew she saw behind his steely gaze. But every word, she swallowed down for now, parting her lips instead and pulling him by his collar to kiss her.
Devouring, consuming, his lips stole her air from her lungs and senses right from her mind. All she was now was need and desire, a whimper breaking from her throat as he pulled from her kiss all too soon. His look was pure lust, dark desire as he twirled his finger at her. An order to turn around. Obeying, she turned her back to him as she sat near the edge of the bed.
His breath was hot in her ear as he whispered against it. “Lie down, Little Light, and do try not to gag….”
Eyes shot wide, Lumina shivered as she scooted further into the center of the bed, laying on her back up at where he stood over her. His smile flashed at her upside down as she was, all the more thrilling and slightly sinister as she felt disoriented. Hands gripped under her arms and slid her just right, making her head hang off the ledge.
Her world practically spun, watching his fingers unlacing his breeches, that thick, hard, and veiny cock releasing from within to hang its shadow over her face. Fingers curled deftly around his shaft, stroking him harder, the other hand thrust a thumb inside her mouth to pull her jaw open gently. She could help but smile as his fingers stroked under her chin, that pink head of his cock slowly sweeping into her mouth and down her throat.
The undead beat of her heart pounded harder, already she could feel a light headed tingle as she felt him pull out slowly and thrust back in. Deeper this time. She laughed around his cock, feeling it twitching in her mouth as the vibrations tickled him.
Hips slowly pistoned back and forth. Every thrust sent the front of his hips to press against the top of her head, flooding her nose with the musk of his arousal. Lumina closed her eyes, keeping herself lost in the feeling of his cock in her mouth and his hands wandering over her neck and into her dress. Fingers latched around a breast, Astarion squeezed as he began to thrust harder into her mouth, leveraging his movements on that swaying fullness in her dress.
“Swallow around me,” he growled, “let me feel how hungry you are for your reward, even when you’ve been rather willful.”
She obeyed, her throat closing around his thrusts for a moment. A new magic pooled inside her mind and went taught, as if something was struggling to make itself known. A growl in his throat, and he just fucked her faster. “See, my naughty little minx, I am not some hero. A rake, a monster to some, a lover and master to you, Little Lumina….” He clawed his nails into her flesh, one around her breast, the other into the side of her throat where he gripped her now.
She needed to swallow again, drool running up her cheek as she hung suspended for his pleasure. A clutch of his fingers hard on her nipple, and she moaned with full voice. Suddenly, she tasted him, that sweet, warm bitterness that she knew so well filled her throat. As he groaned loudly over her, hands clawed hard into her skin, she felt a snap in her mind… images of Astarion, dressed in armor, blood spattered and beautiful, two daggers in hand as he tore through enemies…
She opened her eyes as he pulled his cock from her lips, letting a trail of cum dribble up her face. He stroked his finger through it, caressing her cheek. Palm at the back of her shoulder, he rolled her over and raised her up to his smirking mouth with two fingers under her chin. “Now…”
But she placed a hand on his lips to quietly hush him. “My love,” she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. “You don’t have to be a hero to the City, or to the world, or in memory of anyone you lost. But you should know… you are a hero to me. You pulled me from a fate worse than death by giving me undeath.” She kissed his lips softly,”I will forever be thankful for that, my lord.”
His lips were frozen as she worked hers feverishly. Pulling away from her, he quickly stuffed his cock back into his trousers to run a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner, my darling.” He tried to return to that velvety tone in his voice, that confident swagger in his stride, but he nearly choked and nearly laid himself out flat prone on the ground. “Be in the dining room sharply for me…”
With that, the door shut behind him. And Lumina was left perching on his bed, with more questions than answers and with a new tingling sensation in her mind.
It was different than his tendrils of compelling, brighter and stronger, a bridge and not a leash.
Perhaps… something would help her find the answer to what sort of magic he must have done to her. Whatever it was that gave her strength to endure sunlight, awareness to sense his innermost thoughts. Somewhere here… he must have the answer to his secrets. She just had to find them.
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kankuroplease · 6 months ago
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could you do an Hc of Sena please, he's the only one left 😆 I would like to understand why he would have preferred to be the only child and why he dares to hit little Mika 😫 I don't forgive him even if he is rather beautiful 😑... in short, by the way I really like your art I live for it 😍lol, and the little aburame are adorable I think their glasses are stylish 🤩
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He is the chaotic neutral sibling that has a LOT of red flags 🚩
A fussy baby but nothing new to his parents, they’d just wrap him a little tighter and soothe him with back pats until he relaxed/calmed down.
He never really got along with his siblings (the triplets) as their personalities clashed and he often wasn’t allowed to get his point across before their parents intervened
Unlike Leonie’s aloof demeanor towards the comments about their shared skin condition, Sena found it extremely annoying to have it mentioned
So he fought those kids
Unlike Mika, who was the “perfect” son, he seemingly couldn’t do anything right/kept making mistakes
“You should follow Mika’s lead” was a common phrase he heard and that was extremely annoying
And Mika trying to extend him his help just angered him more, so he would fight with him because there’s no way Mika couldn’t see that he was treated like the “golden” child while he (Sena) was the “problematic” child
Having so many siblings felt suffocating; Asahi always had his friend around, Kuri was like a second mother, Frederick was overzealous, Leonie was always clinging to Mika, and Mika could do no wrong. So by the time Elke was born, he was over it.
He just wanted to leave
And he took every opportunity to push his luck and travel further and further away from home as child
First it was leaving the house as a young child without asking
Then it was going to the end of the village
Then it was crossing the river
Then it was camping out overnight by himself in the forest
That one actually got him in trouble and lectured by his father and made his mother question why he was behaving like that
They’re his family, he can talk to them and tell them anything
Sena simply said he was unhappy being one of many and wanted to leave
After the shock wore off and his mother told his father to go somewhere (because he was trying to argue with a child), his mom said that she really wanted him to be happy and she can understand his want for independence
However, she needed him to stay. He has his whole adult life to wander wherever he wants. He even has family he can meet back in their homeland, but he shouldn’t run from things just because they’re a little hard
So with a pinky promise to not hold him back once he was old enough AND to let him stay at grandma’s 3 days of the week
With that, Sena got some alone time which allowed him to breathe and grow an appreciation for his time with his siblings
Because Ebba had him working HARD jobs for trying to sass her
He trained under his grandmother’s guidance and has a natural with ninkens around town, often times getting them to obey his orders
It wasn’t until he was a pre-teen that he accepted his own ninken companion which was given to him by a wolf
Like “where’d you get the pup?” “A she-wolf” “oh.. wait, whaaaat?”
His popularity grew as he got older, with his previous aggression morphing into him becoming aggressively confident and more sociable
His white forelock proved to be a great ice breaker with the ladies and if that failed, their was Mika’s adorably oblivious self that made a great wingman
He learned he had a sliver tongue that could talk his way out of most situations and if he couldn’t, a little space seemed to cool people off
True Communication was never important to him as he never felt a need to go that deep or express every thought he had
Sometimes he just craved solitude to clear his head. Sometimes the weight of everything was too much and he’d shut down if he didn’t get that space from the situation
He was the teen that was always coming home late and sometimes not at all, that would joke his way out of trouble with his parents
A little bit of a playboy. He had multiple girlfriends and they all would argue over him/with him because he gave them the same sweet words
He fully accepted he was a jerk in most cases. Tell him something he doesn’t know he just didn’t care to people please
As much fun as he was having, he was also bored of the same old routine and told his parents it was time for him to go
Which of course they tried to protest, but he reminded them that while young, by societies standards he was a man and they had said he could venture out when he was old enough
Besides he had Shin (his ninken) to keep him safe on top of being the only kid they had to complete Ebba’s shinobi training
He wouldn’t die and if he did, just know he died doing something he’s longed to do.. plus they had 7 other kids to wipe their tears
He didn’t have a send off but he left everyone a letter stating he was going to the land of fire to see what all the fuss was about
And he did end up there eventually, after a few adventures of wandering around
He even ran into Arashi and his husband on a pirate ship. Little bro grew facial hair and saved his ass 😅
Once in the land of fire, he was pleasantly surprised by how different it was
He knew where to find the Uchiha’s and his uncles thanks to his mother, but he didn’t really make himself known to them
He was more interested in checking out the Inuzuka clan/visiting his aunt Meiko
It was there that he caught the most alluring scent he’d ever smelled and it was coming from the most wild woman he’d ever seen (Tsume)
Freshly home from a mission hosing off her ninken while talking excitedly about the upcoming festival with her comrades
She commanded the area and her eyes pierced right through him when they met his. Looking him up and down with a curious stare
And just as he was about to say something, she blast him with the hose
Giving him a wolfish smile and coy shrug before she and her comrades burst out laughing at his stunned face
It took him a moment to snap out of his daze, but he chuckled and simply said “thanks, I needed that” before carrying on with his day
His nice jacket drenched, shoes squeaking every so often, and once fluffy hair weighed down with water stuck to his forehead all made him smile
She’s feisty. He likes that.
He tried to pry information out of his aunt about the the wild haired brunette, about this heigh, modest bust, tight ass, boisterous, and really fuckin’ hot girl he had the pleasure of getting sprayed by
But she smacked the back of his head for saying those things and told him to keep it in his pants up least that girl rip it off him if he tried anything (rightfully so. The horny bastard)
he was causing quite the scene with the Inuzuka women because he really knew how to entertain (thanks Kuri, Frederick, and Mika)
The Inuzuka men appreciated his crude humor and tales of the lands he’s seen
But none of that brought him any closer to the one girl he wanted to get to know
However he was confident that he could at least get to talk to her at the festival, so he made sure to pay a visit to the one man he heard of that he knew for a FACT would have access to some impressive Yukatas
(Uncle) Tenko
And he was right! (Or his mother was right about her brother being a flashy man). Even in his older years, his extravagant lifestyle was evident
Tenko asked him about what took so long for him to show himself (his mother only sent him a letter every two months asking if he’d visited Konoha yet) and Sena didn’t really have a good reason other than not wanting to have live up to a name he doesn’t even possess (the Uchiha name)
No hard feelings though, If his nephew needed his help impressing some young thing. He would help him
A nice black Yukata with all the trimmings was all his. Oh and that girl he’s raving about? Sounds like, Tsume.
He could be wrong, but go ahead and tell her half of those descriptive words he used to her face
If he gets a swift knee in the balls, that’s definitely her
With that information and his outfit he went in the festival on a mission: don’t piss her off
When he found her at the festival, she was just as radiant as ever, standing like she boss she was
He could barely think over the music and his own heartbeat, but he did manage to properly introduce himself
She was clearly a bit tipsy as she hummed aloud and asked her Ninken should she introduce herself to this bastard before sticking her hand out and saying her name
“It’s Tsume~”
Her handshake was firm and she pulled him closer to whisper she knows he’s been asking about her before playfully walking her fingers up his chest before pushing him back
She told him to accompany her and he jumped at the chance
She bought a dog collar from a stall and half jokingly told him it’s his as he’s her guard dog for the night (he put it on and barked, shocking her for a moment before they both laughed)
The evening was full of laughs, odd questions to get to know each other, lots of play fighting, and falling over every other thing as they drank more and more. It was perfect to him
He wanted to get to know her better and wanted her to get to know him
He was ready to stay somewhere for once without wondering what else was out there
And when Tsume and him grew closer, he started thinking about how this is what they call love
She pushed him and he loved that
She was perfectly rough around the edges
She liked hearing about his travels before coming to Konoha
They found it fun to compare traditions of the Inuzuka there versus his home town
When he found out that they would be parents, he was excited
When he held Hana, he felt so much joy
He looked like her mother but she had his eyes. His perfect little one
He could hold her all day
Then the peace was shattered and suddenly he understood why his parents wanted out of the land of fire
He tried talking to Tsume about packing up and coming back to his country
She didn’t want to leave her people and insisted he should fight for them and his daughter too
It was around this time he pulled his first disappearing act to clear his head
He really was just off in some inn thinking of what the right thing to say or do was. Maybe even cry a little
It wasn’t for long, but long enough that Tsume and him got into a big argument
His irresponsibility was surfacing and creating a wedge between them
The fought, made up, things would get difficult and he’d need to “clear his head” again and the cycle would repeat
with each time becoming a little longer than the last
He didn’t want to make her mad, but he lost the ability to make her as happy as he once had
Eventually, they learned that they were expecting another child and while he was excited. Tsume was not.
She knew his pattern by then and they were in a rough patch; meaning he was likely to pull a disappearing stunt AGAIN the moment another argument broke out
But she gave him a warning; if he disappeared on his family again, he might as well do it for good. She couldn’t keep doing this and the kids deserved reliability.
In a much happier au, he’d get his mess together and communicate properly with everyone. Staying for his family and mend his relationship the Tsume because he truly loves her. Watching Hana and Kiba grow up first hand
Following the regular timeline, Tsume and him would get in a big argument when she finds out that 1. He hasn’t even told his family about their children 2. He’s withheld crucial information about who he is/who he’s related to
Which leads to him storming off in the night and her shouting at him that this was no longer his home or family
He barely got to even hold Kiba or bond with him and that keeps him up some nights
He sees the kids every time to time, with Hana clearly remembering him and telling him how likely her mom is to rip off his face if she catches him talking to her
And Kiba sort of flies right past him without knowing it’s him when he’s in town
Tsume isn’t quite as angry with him anymore, but she doesn’t think he’s a good influence for their children nor that he should just be able to drop in and out of their lives when it’s convenient for him
He ends up settling back into his home country with none of his siblings knowing about the family he made/lost
Keeping the pictures he has of the kids and Tsume and his younger years together in an album in keeps in the closet
His father knows and is very disappointed in him (which, fair. He’s disgusted with himself too)
Mika and Leonie feel like he’s hiding something, but at the same time he tells them it’s not up to him if/when he’ll be able to tell them his story. He respects someone’s (Tsume’s) wishes too much
He knows he doesn’t have a right to bother her anymore, but he still wants her/what they could’ve had
He’s selfish and he knows that
He was lucky once and he fucked that all the way up and he knows it
But still
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clu-ven · 2 years ago
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I don‘t know if your Requests are open, but if they are could you write one where the Reader is a Jedi and traveling with the Bad Batch and when they meet Rex in the Bar she finally reunites with him and the Bad Batch just being so confused that a Jedi and Clone were in a relationship while the Republic was still there.🤗
That Familiar Feeling
word count: 3.4k
tags: vague mentions of dealing with grief and order 66, self-doubt, crying, many happy kisses
~and before anyone points it out, lemme just say this doesn't exactly match the scene of Rex reuniting with the Batch (for obvious reasons and because I forgot little details which is annoying me lol)~
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Something’s… off.
Entering Cid’s Parlour, the feeling of the force overwhelms you. It’s as if someone has thrown cold water over you, the force welcoming you with an eerie friendliness. It makes you falter, stopping abruptly as the sensation ambushes you.  
“Oof-” Echo walks straight into you, bumping against your shoulder. He takes a step to the side, his surprised expression quickly becoming one of concern “You ok? What is it?”. 
“I… I’m not sure,” you answer honestly, before trying to ease his worry “It’s probably nothing, I’ll be fine in a few minutes”. 
Echo isn’t convinced but he gives you a nod, not wanting to pry. “If you’re sure…” giving you a swift once over to make sure you didn’t get injured on the mission, he carries on.
It’s been a while since you last connected with the force, becoming hesitant to reach out ever since it happened. You tried in the initial days after the order was given but the overwhelming pain and grief that greeted you each time made you pull away. 
It’s not something you could deal with then and it’s not something you can deal with now, the wounds still fresh in your mind.
But this is a different feeling. It’s the force you used to know, something that worked with you and not against. It’s familiar… and that puts you on edge. 
With this familiarity brings a fear of the unknown. When you worked hand in hand with the force, you could have located what’s causing this in a matter of seconds… but nowadays, where you go from week to week without reaching out to the force, it’s much harder, with the subtle shift in atmosphere being your only warning that something is different.
Your eyes scan the parlour, though there’s nothing out of the ordinary. The usual crowd is here, drinking their problems away and playing Dejarik.
Unfortunately, the Batch has gotten back later than expected, so the limited sunlight that graces Cid’s parlour during the day has vanished. Now, you can only rely on the frustratingly dim lights to help your investigation.
“C’mon, this way,” Cid cuts off your search, walking past you as she gestures to her office. Everyone begins to follow her, though you’re more reluctant. 
Hunter catches your eye and you know he can sense it too but through a different method. Exchanging uneasy looks, you both make a silent agreement to stay on high alert before trailing after Cid and into her office. 
Thankfully Cid isn’t in the mood for nonsense (when is she?) and so she gets straight into business. You stay quiet during the debrief of the mission and the accompanied discussion of payment, your mind elsewhere.
Although the feeling isn’t as strong in here, it’s still undoubtedly nearby, invading your every thought. Even when Cid’s focus turns to you, the feeling’s hold on you doesn’t fade.
“What’s her problem?” her voice is faint, as if she’s far off in the distance. 
You don’t react. While this feeling is certainly daunting, a part of you is scared that if you push it away, this sliver of familiarity will slip through your fingers and disappear forever.
More talking ensues, though it’s more like mumbling to you, and you presume Cid has brushed past your reserved demeanour.
The harder you focus on the force, the quieter their voices become. Closing your eyes to further centre yourself, the feeling slowly becomes intelligible. You’re so close to uncovering what is causing this when it happens.
The sound of blaster fire is so sudden, you accidentally let go of the feeling, your body tensing at the noise. Your eyes dart open and for a split second, everyone freezes, the realisation of conflict sinking in before military training quickly takes over. 
You reach down, instinctively going to grab your lightsaber but instead find a blaster in its place. Turns out, carrying a lightsaber in a galaxy where Jedi are seen as traitors isn’t the best idea.
Hunter takes the lead, charging out of the office and into the main area. Cid keeps up his pace, ready to defend her business with everything she’s got. You’re next in line, alongside Echo. Tech and Wrecker are the last out, both keeping Omega close.
As the other patrons scurry out, a hooded figure stands by one of the tables. Placing their blaster down on the metal surface, their armour immediately catches your attention. You almost didn’t notice the colour painted on to the plastoid, the dim lights distorting the shade of blue. 
It can’t be. Surely not. 
As much as your brain wants to rationalise it as being someone else, the instantly recognisable blue of the 501st is hard to deny. Before the figure pulls down their hood, the feeling finally reveals itself to you. 
This familiar feeling is not one to fear. It is not the grief of losing one’s you admittedly became attached to or the terror of how the war ended but instead, it’s the exact opposite. 
It’s a reminder of why you fought so hard. It’s the warmth people can bring, the safety you give others and is fondly reciprocated. But it’s more than that. It’s love. It’s Rex.
“Who are you?” yells Cid, gesturing to him. The others are still on high alert, with not even the likes of Echo noticing the comforting blue paint.
His gloved hands cautiously pull down his hood, revealing the face you’ve longed to see again. He looks uncertain, his eyes glancing over everyone until finally landing on you. 
Although his face is sullen with a mist of hesitancy shrouding his expression, you can still see his gaze soften for you. And that’s all you need to know it’s actually him standing in front of you, not some brainwashed soldier or distraction sent by the Empire. It’s truly him, the Rex you know and love.
Despite always wanting to hold out hope that you would meet him someday, you couldn’t deny the facts stated on the Empire’s records. You remember the ache in your chest when Tech read it out, solemnly stating that Rex was reported dead.
Tears sprout from your eyes, a mixture of pure happiness and relief washing over you. Echo opens his mouth to speak but you get there first, taking the words out of his mouth.
“Rex!” his name comes out as a choked cry, your knees starting to buckle as you close the distance between you both, Hunter and Cid automatically stepping out of your way. 
You don’t think you’ve ever felt so much emotion at once. Even when you first heard the news that Rex supposedly perished with the others, you suppressed your emotions. Though that was more out of fear, unsure if you could control the power of the force while facing so much grief. 
Perhaps that’s another reason why you distanced yourself from the force, scared that the constantly lurking presence of the dark side might have used such powerful yet negative emotions against you.
You know Rex isn’t a big fan of PDA, especially around his brothers but as you throw your arms around him, you feel him hold you back. His strong arms wrap around your waist, one hand running up your back to keep you as close as possible.
It’s a surreal moment to feel him against you, his hard armour hidden underneath his cloak digging into you as you try to press yourself even closer to him. Not that you particularly care about that right now. The only thing that matters at this moment is Rex. 
Burying your face into his neck, the warmth of his skin soothes you and for the first time in months, you relax. 
“I… I thought you…” you want to say a million things at once, your brain unable to pick one coherent thought to say “I heard what happened… the mission report said you were… Oh, Rex”.
Giving up on trying to speak, you move to see that handsome face of his again, your hands instinctively coming up to his jawline.
The look in his eyes isn’t what you’re expecting. A mixture of worry and fear shines in his gaze, his eyebrows pinching together as he wordlessly looks at you. It doesn’t take a jedi to figure out why this is his initial reaction. Considering the recent event between all clones and jedi’s, it’s understandable for him to be nervous. 
He’s scared that you won’t trust him, that what you once had together has died alongside the Republic. There’s only one way you can think of that can give Rex the reassurance he so desperately yearns for. Using your hands to keep his head in place, you kiss him. 
At first, you feel him tense. The shock that not only are you kissing him in general but in front of his brothers making him freeze. But just as you wonder if you made the right move, Rex melts into the kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as his lips begin moving against yours.
Unbeknownst to you, as your lips touch your beloved Captain’s, the Batches' mouths all happen to fall open. Well, most of them anyways. Tech is too busy doing something on his datapad to witness the kiss. 
Wrecker, who stands next to Tech, gives his brother a nudge. Tech looks up at his shocked face before looking over at you and Rex… and then casually back down to his datapad. 
“Wha- Tech,” Wrecker tries to whisper “are you seeing what I’m seeing? Or was I hit on the head too hard?”.
Tech glances up again just in time to see the end of the kiss and you affectionately bury your head back into the crook of Rex’s neck, the both of you whispering sweet nothings to one another.
“Considering her reaction when I informed her of the Captain's supposed demise, this isn’t a surprise” he shrugs, refocusing on his datapad.
Despite Tech’s statement that this isn’t a surprise, it most definitely is for Hunter, who stands there in complete shock. Even with his heightened senses, Hunter didn’t expect this. He isn’t sure what to do or where to look but thankfully, Omega grabs his attention. 
She lets out a small gasp as she makes her way to the front of the group, looking up at the others before a large grin spreads across his face.
“They look like good friends” she gives Hunter a wink and he rolls his eyes, subtly placing his hand on Omega's shoulder so he can swiftly cover her eyes if you two kiss again. 
Just like his brothers, Echo’s mouth falls open too but his lips quickly form a smirk. Memories come rushing back to him as he remembers the rumours that you two liked each other as well as the countless number of times Fives would try to get the Captain to admit his feelings.
It’s a strangely satisfying moment to see you both wrapped in each other’s embrace, finally getting some closure to what was once seen as a far fetched piece of gossip.
Speaking loudly so you’ll both hear, Echo pats Hunter on the back “C’mon, let’s give them some space”. As you pull your attention away from Rex, you watch the others silently agree, most of them giving you a reassuring nod before retreating to the bar area. 
Within a matter of moments, you lead Rex to one of the quieter parts of the parlour, your hand in his as you sit on one of the lumpy couches. Rex sits beside you, hand still enclosed around yours. 
You watch the Captain with adoration in your eyes, giving him a moment of silence as he gathers his thoughts. Your gaze lowers to his neck, noticing how his Adam's apple bobs anxiously. But then, he speaks.
“I… I thought about you every rotation, no matter how painful it was” Rex keeps his gaze down, watching how his thumb begins to rub the back of your hand “I wasn’t sure if you… well, if you made it. I tried searching for you through mission reports but when the Republic fell, my code was denied access to all official reports”. He huffs out a laugh “I was surprised the Empire was smart enough to do that”.
Giving his hand a small squeeze, you smile, though Rex doesn't notice, his eyes still cast downwards “Tech was able to hack into it. I’m marked as missing in action and uh, well, you’re actually marked as deceased”. You’re unsure how to deliver such news, unable to tell whether being labelled as dead is a good or bad thing, both choices having some pro’s and con’s.
Rex nods, quietly taking in this new information, though right now, he’s not that bothered by what the Empire has him marked as. Rex has more important things to address, the Empire surprisingly being at the back of his mind.
Staying silent, he lets the moment pass. Rex knows why you’re telling him this and he finds some solace in how you want to give him any intel you have. But there’s more important matters… or, well, relationships to discuss. 
Yet despite its importance, Rex is hesitant to bring this up. On one hand, he doesn’t want to mention Order 66 or the horrors it caused but he can’t just ignore it either.
As much as he wants to bask in his ignorance, oblivious to what you’ve been through since then or how you feel about the clones, it’s not something he can do. He has to know how you feel.
Speaking rather abruptly, the words spill from his mouth “I’m sorry for showing up without any warning”. 
You’re taken aback by his words, not seeing a reason why Rex should be apologising. Taking a deep breath, he elaborates “I’m not sure where you were when it happened, or what you’ve been through… I don’t even know if you want to see me and if you don’t, I’ll go”. 
Finally Rex looks up at you, his eyes glossy as he tries to keep his composure. But his voice betrays him, his tone cracking as he continues  “I want you to know that, you won’t hear from me again if that’s what you think is best. You have that choice. I don’t want to put you through more pain, especially after everything this face has done to you”.
You know he’s referring to the clones in general, doing a small gesture to his very recognizable face. Although Rex wasn’t with you when Order 66 was put in place, he has some understanding of what you’ve been through. 
Rex has had a lot of time to think about this, to picture how his brothers suddenly turned on you and tried with all their might to kill you.
It was this very thought that made him hesitate when you first entered the parlour. He was going to call out to you but then the doubts crept in. Maybe you wouldn’t see him but instead simply see the face of a clone, a face that tried to kill you, albeit not him specifically.
You’re sure you can feel your heart ache, watching as Rex tries his best to keep his emotions at bay. Bringing your hand up, you gently cup his face.
Before you can even speak, Rex leaves out a shaky breath, your touch comforting him in ways he didn’t know was possible.
Your voice is stern, determined to get your point across so Rex will undoubtedly understand how you feel. “The only thing this face has done is love me, cherish me, care for me when I’m injured…” you list out as Rex closes his eyes, hanging on your every word “carry me to bed when I’m too stubborn to rest, cheer me up when I’m sad and it’s this face that’ll go to the most dodgiest looking parlour in all of Ord Mantell in the hopes of finding me there”.
He smiles at that last part, a stray tear running down his cheek as he opens his eyes.
You’re quick to wipe it away, mirroring his smile with one of your own. Needing to keep you close, Rex rests his forehead on yours, savouring the sensation of your breath hitting against his face. “You’re sure?” He asks in a low whisper.
“Positive” you confirm, unable to resist the urge to capture his lips in another kiss.
Over at the bar, Wrecker tries his best to inconspicuously look over. Keeping his gaze fixed on the two of you, he nudges Hunter, causing the Sergeant to groan. “They're kissing again” he announces.
Echo rolls his eyes, poking Wrecker with his scomp link “Stop gawking at them, will ya?”. Wrecker flinches away from him, almost stumbling on to Hunter “Hey! Watch it with that!”.
“You’re the one who needs to watch it,” Echo retorts, his gaze drifting over to you two as he repeats his sentence in his head. “Actually, no, don’t watch it or well, them” he tries to clarify, huffing at himself before hastily stating “you need to watch where you’re staring!”.
“I’m just keeping an eye on her!” Wrecker snaps back “I didn’t think Regs and Jedi’s were on good terms anymore”.
Hanging his head low, Hunter tightens his grip on his drink. “Will the two of you shut it?” he huffs, feeling the inklings of a headache coming on. 
Echo opens his mouth to say more but stops himself, not wanting you and Rex to join them mid-argument. Instead, he decides to take another swig of his drink.
“Wrecker does have a point,” Tech chimes in “Rex could still have his inhibitor chip in place”.
Echo wastes no time in jumping in again, determined to defend his Captain. “Oh yeah, he definitely looks like he’s still chipped,” he replies sarcastically.
“Perhaps another defective chip? Or maybe the control the inhibitor chips possess are only for a limited time” Tech thinks out loud, purposely ignoring Echo’s response. 
“This is one long kiss,” Wrecker comments, causing Echo to once again roll his eyes as he realises Wrecker is still looking over “you don’t think they're going to uh… y’know… take it further? They know we can see them, right?”.
Echo doesn't even warrant that question deserving of a reply. 
Almost causing Hunter’s heart to jump out of his chest, Omega chirps up “How would they take it further”. She looks up at the Batch with an excited smile, the adrenaline of another clone being here yet to settle.
Hunter shoots Wrecker a glare, hurriedly fishing a few credits out of his pocket. “Here, kid” he drops the credits into Omega’s hand “do me a favour and beat Wrecker in a few games of Dejarik”. 
Omega’s eyes grow wide at the credits as she leaves out an “Oooooh” noise. Barking out a loud laugh, Wrecker beams “C’mon best of three, loser has to buy the winner Mantell Mix”. As the two of them wander off to another part of the parlour, Hunter leaves out a silent sigh of relief. 
The abrupt sound of Wrecker’s laugh catches both you and Rex off guard, causing Rex to reluctantly break off the kiss. His eyes dart from your face to where the others relax at the bar. “Was that directed at us?” he quietly mumbles, heat racing to his cheeks.
Giving him a reassuring smile, you peck his lips one more time “I doubt it, Rex”.
Rex gives you his signature lopsided smile in response, something you’ve ached to see for months. It makes you want to kiss him again but you can sense the others glancing over. 
“You ready to go over to them?” he asks, though judging from how his gaze lingers on your lips, you’re not the only one with the urge to kiss. 
“Yeah,” you nod, giving him a playful nudge as you add “the sooner you say hi to your brothers, the sooner I get you all to myself”. 
Rex chuckles in reply, standing as he tries to compose himself. “Oh you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to get you alone” he offers you his hand, shooting you a mischievous wink as he does.
“Well, Captain, you just have to wait another twenty minutes and I’m all yours” taking his hand, you stand, ready to reunite Rex with the Batch.
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deartouya · 2 years ago
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TIME OF YEAR — HAWKS
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summary: the week following valentine's day, you start getting a gift a day. they're always sitting on your desk when you get in, never attached to any note, and always something that you'd like. then a certain pro-hero shows up at your door brandishing a bouquet.
pairing: hawks x gn!reader
wordcount: 1.4k
content: reader works in miruko's agency, fluff, stocked full of (very american) valentine's fluff and cliches, gift giving as a weird confession, best friend bakugou bc i can't help myself, mentions of food/eating.
happy valentine's day lovies !!! i barely finished this in time but ;-; it's done !! and i had to write something for keigo bc i love him dearly ;-; i hope you enjoy my self indulgence even if it's not my best work !
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Working for Miruko's agency has been surprisingly mundane for a top hero agency. Spending your day filing reports and attempting to lessen the load of paperwork for her and the dozens of sidekicks she worked with. You'd grown fond of the routine, comfortable with your daily cafe runs and lunches spent working at your desk. It was nice, normal.
The past week has been weird, though.
It started with a rose. Soft and creamy maroon petals left in the center of your desk without a note or any hint of who had left it. You thought it'd been a mistake, someone mistaking your office for someone else's, but no one in the entire office building recognized or claimed it. So you found a dusty flower vase under your sink and kept it on the corner of your desk.
Next were blueberry muffins. You recognized the little white box from your favorite bakery the moment you saw it, the one nestled in a corner of the city which is almost always empty. Buttery and still warm when you finally willed yourself to open it. You couldn't help the warmth which filled your chest at the smell of them and you ate two of them for breakfast before starting your paperwork.
The rest of the week was filled with more gifts, all practical or catered perfectly to your own tastes; a pair of cashmere gloves a muted gray, a coffee from your favorite cafe just the way you ordered it, a shiny broach in the shape of two doves, a travel coffee mug not too much after your own finally worn out. Nothing that hinted at whoever's been leaving them for you.
 "Come on, Katsuki," you lament, folding yourself pathetically over your desk, "you're always at the office--you have to have seen them come to my office! And you're the only one who knows I go to that bakery every morning, you have to know!" He snorts, barely looking up from his own stack of reports to see the considerably large box of heart-shaped chocolates. The rich, fancy kind that if you ever had a craving for you would've had to save half your paychecks.
His eyes seem to get stuck on the ribbon holding it shut, on the sliver of something soft and red poking out. You pluck it out, expecting a sticky note or card--anything but a feather the size of your index finger.
"Is this supposed to be a hint?" Katsuki only stares blankly at you, something akin to amusement warming the red of his eyes as your annoyance mounts, "do they have a pet bird? I don't think I know anyone with a parrot--except for that one guy from tech but his is blue."
Katsuki rolls his eyes, dropping his pen and shoving his chair away from his desk, “and why would he leave a hint? If he wanted you to know who he was he wouldla left a fuckin’ note on one of of ‘em.”
“I don’t know! I’m tired of not knowing,” you collapse back into your chair to stare forlornly at the ceiling, “no one in the building will admit to leaving them and we both know that they’re awful liars.” You’d tracked down nearly everyone who worked on your floor to ask about the gifts, even cornering an extremely nervous Midoriya in the elevator on your way home. None of them admitted to it. And none of them paid nearly enough attention to know where you bought your muffins or coffees from. 
“You’re overthinking.” 
You huffed, arms crossed over your chest as Katsuki returned to his paperwork. “I just don’t know who’s doing it, no one’s seemed nervous around me and I haven’t gone on a date in months.”
“Might make you less stressed,” Katsuki snips, a flash of canines when you chuck your now emptied coffee cup at his head—which he blocks easily with a laugh. 
“I’m serious, Katsuki. I’ve never had someone all that interested in me—let alone this interested. I just want to figure out who it is.”
He softens just a little, sighing and dropping the empty cup in the bin beside him. You know you’re being childish, pestering him all week over something as trivial as a potential secret admirer when you both have stacks of paperwork and endless reports.
“I’m sure you’ll find out soon.” That look’s back, something passing slowly over his face—like he’s considering his words carefully, hiding what he knows, “Valentine's day’s tomorrow—maybe he’ll show up then.”
You don’t notice anything weird until you get to your office. Oblivious with the expectant stares of your co-workers, the raptness in which they watch you hurry to your office, the way they all look at eachother. Until you’re confronted with an incredibly familiar and out of place set of eyes, “Hawks!”
He starts at the sound of your voice despite facing the door, fingers tightening around a bouquet of budding peonies and wings ruffled and restless behind him. He looks out of place in your office—large and imposing, standing awkwardly in front of your desk and feathers twitching behind him.
Pictures could never do Hawks justice. He’s always prettier, brighter—the warmth of his hair and the flush of freckles across his nose—in person. He’s larger than life, all wide smiles and crimson wings, and no amount of photographers can capture all of him as he is. Breathtaking. But now, he looks nearly skittish.
Hawks smiles at you then—nervous and disarmingly ill-practiced for someone whose job is half made up of practiced smiles—and brings the bouquet just a little closer to his chest. “I saw these while I was on patrol… it’s that time of year, isn’t it?” His voice is quiet, something soft and tender that makes you feel warm all over.
Everything hits you very suddenly—the feather, the knowing way Katsuki had behaved when questioned, every pricey gift that had been left. Hawks visited the agency all the time, visited you in your office and had taken you for coffee at the very cafe your gift came from. He’d also put the final nail in your travel mug’s coffin, knocking it off the edge of your desk the last time he’d visited you with a teasing feather. Of course it’d been him.
“You left the gifts. You’re my secret admirer,” you say dumbly, sounding quiet and childish even to yourself. 
But Hawks flushes, chin tucking into the plushness of his collar and failing to hide his wide and boyish grin, “I did—I am.” His hand—noticeably bare and warm—cups your own, transferring the bouquet of soft pinks and reds to you. “And these made me think of you when I saw them in the shop—you said peonies were your favorites.”
You flounder under the weight of his grin, the sweetness of flowers, the heady smell of his cologne, and the crispness of wind which always surrounds him. You’ve never been this close to him, always had a buffer in the form of mutual friend or coworker to soften the interaction. It’s overwhelming to be this close knowing he likes you. Knowing he pays such attention to you.
A swell of emotions overtakes you, grin so wide it aches and his own seems to mirror it. Hawks is warm, a slow gentle heat which seeps into you and melts against your skin from where his hands are skating up your arms. It’s dizzying and you find yourself leaning into him, overcome with the sudden urge to kiss him, to be even closer, to curl your hands into the softness of his collar and pull him into you.
But you don’t.
His wings twitch again behind him again, restless ruffling as he lifts a hand to rub at the nape of his neck. You track the movement with a smile—it’s oddly endearing to see him acting so human, so unlike everything you’re used to seeing of him. “Do you want to get dinner after patrol?” Golden eyes flick over your face, as if looking for any hesitance—discomfort. He doesn’t find any. “There’s this really good yakitori place down the street.”
“Sounds like a date, Kei.” His smile’s immediate, blindingly bright and so wide the corners of his eyes wrinkle.
“A date,” he echoes giddily, face flushed and smile half-concealed behind his hand.
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baronessblixen · 2 months ago
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Fictober Day 21: With Good Intentions
Mulder and Scully have the brilliant idea to set Mrs. Scully up on a blind date with no other than Walter Skinner. Rating: T, wc: 1,298.
This is a sequel to "Blind Date" from Fictober 2022, but can be read as a standalone.
Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24
It started as a joke.
They were snuggled up in bed, blissed out, and Mulder mused that they should repay the favor.
"What are you talking about?" She'd turned to him, her chin resting on his chest.
"Your mom setting us up on a blind date. What if we do the same for her?" His grin alone convinced her.
"You know any eligible bachelors?" She had been joking.
"I might."
That was two weeks ago. She should have know that Mulder would be like a dog with a bone. He mentioned it daily, always with an air of amusement, and she gave in, calling her mother, asking her out to dinner with her and Mulder, as a thank you for setting them up on that faithful blind date that brought them together.
"She's not gonna hate me after this, right?" Mulder asked after she hung up, encircling her, kissing the sliver of skin between her neck and shoulder where her shirt had slipped out of position.
"No," she said softly.
"I'm still going to be invited for Sunday dinner?"
"Yes." She laughed gently, turning in his arms. Staring into his eyes, she had felt too much in love to question this idea. Too caught up in her own happiness, she'd been blind to all and any obstacles. But what were they thinking, not only setting her mother up on a blind date but with their boss, AD Walter Skinner?
*
Today, it hits her full force. Tonight is the big night. Mulder has been chuckling to himself all day at work. Scully, however, is bitten by doubts. And a sense of panic.
"Hey," Mulder says as they're packing up. They're going straight to the restaurant, where her mother and Skinner are supposed to meet.
"You're having second thoughts, aren't you?" Mulder knows her better than anyone ever has. He can read her all too well.
"Yes." She decides not to beat around the bush. Frankly, they don't have the time for it now. Mulder engulfs her in his arms and looks down at her.
"We can call the whole thing off," he says. "We can just go and have dinner with your mom."
"What about her date?" She can't even say his name. What were they thinking? They weren't. A spur of the moment thing. Maybe that's how they can justify it.
"I'll intercept Skinner," Mulder assures her.
"And then? Tell him it was a mistake?" They had told their boss a story similar to the one they gave her mom—that they wanted to discuss something over dinner. It had been a gamble, and Skinner had been surprised, to say the least, but he accepted.
"He sounded excited." Mulder is smiling at her. It's the same smile that got her into this mess. "What if we just go through with it? We can always interfere if something goes wrong."
"Skinner might be furious with us."
"We've done worse." That seals it. Scully sighs and nods. "I mean if this works out-" she puts a hand on his chest.
"Don't even say it."
*
They picked the same restaurant where they had their first date. Their table is hidden from view; Skinner and her mother won't see them, but they can watch them. Mulder puts his hand over hers, seemingly noticing her nervousness.
"We can always go over and end it," Mulder reminds her and kisses her cheek.
"I feel so bad," Scully admits once her mother is seated. She's smiling, waiting to see her youngest daughter with her boyfriend after playing matchmaker.
Luckily, Skinner is on time. Both he and her mother stare at each other and laugh awkwardly.
"I wish we knew what they're talking about," Mulder says, clearly enjoying this.
For a moment, Scully fears Skinner is going to excuse himself, but then he sits down. Scully sighs in relief.
"Ready to order?" Mulder grins.
"How can you think about eating right now?" she asks and he just shrugs.
"I'm hungry." So they order. Mulder digs in, but Scully only picks at her food. Her phone vibrates in her purse, and she and Mulder exchange a look.
"It's my mom."
"Answer it."
"And say what?" But she's already pushed the button and hears her mother through the line.
"Dana, honey, are you and Fox all right?"
"We're fine," she says, looking at Mulder, who's conducting with his fork, urging her to spin a fantastic tale. "Um, something came up." She watches in horror as Mulder's phone starts ringing. It has to be Skinner.
"Sir," Mulder says, his mouth half full. "We, um, something came up." He just shrugs when Scully shoots him a look. She doesn't think she can keep this up any longer.
"I'm sorry, mom. We didn't mean to stand you up. We'll pay for your cab ride home, of course. We- what, you're not alone?" Her voice is squeaky. She winces when she hears it.
"That's nice, Sir," Mulder says next to her. "What a coincidence that Mrs. Scully is here too. I had no idea." As it turns out, they're both terrible liars. "Have a nice evening. I'm- I'll let Scully know you're keeping her mother company. Bye." He hangs up and groans into his hands. Scully is still not off the hook. She's squirming, signaling to Mulder to help her out, but he just keeps eating.
"Mom, Mulder needs my help with something. I'll call you tomorrow. Have fun with AD Skinner. Good night, Mom." She quickly hangs up.
"That was not our best work," Mulder says.
"You don't say," she mumbles, taking a big gulp from her wine.
"We have another problem." She glares at him. "I need to pee."
They wait as long as they can, but Skinner and her mother are having fun. They're laughing, and Scully feels a pang watching them, her thoughts and emotions a twisted mess.
"Maybe they won't see me," Mulder says and in his defense, he tries to be invisible. But it's as if both her mother and Skinner have Mulder antennas and they kick in as soon as he attempts to stealthily make his way to the restroom.
"Mulder?"
"Fox!"
Two voices speak at the same time, and Scully deflates from her secret hiding spot. The jig is up. She stands and joins Mulder, looking sheepish. Skinner adjusts his glasses, and her mother is speechless.
"I'll help explain in just a minute, but nature's calling." And just like that, she's on her own.
"Dana, what is going on."
She's 14 all over again and her mother has just caught her stealing her cigarettes.
"We had this idea," she explains. "To repay the favor of what you did for us." It's only now that she realizes that until now, Skinner had no idea she and Mulder were dating.
"I'm back." Mulder is by her side, smelling like lavender soap. "I'm sure Dana has already explained everything."
"You tried to," her mother clasps his hand over her mouth, understanding what's going on.
"Can someone explain it to me?" Skinner sounds confused, his eyes dart back and forth between the three others.
"They're trying to set us up." Her mother whispers the words and then giggles. Skinner stares at his agents before he and her mother lock eyes and start laughing.
"What's happening?" Mulder whispers next to her.
"I don't know."
"It doesn't look like we're in trouble."
"Come on you two," Skinner says, inviting them over with a wave, "join us. I want to know what made you come up with this." They sit down like two scolded children.
"I'm sorry, mom," she mumbles. Her mother hugs her with one arm, kissing her temple.
"I'm not. You and Fox did a sweet thing, but what were you thinking setting me up with a younger man?"
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