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okay-j-hannah · 8 months

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Hii hannah!! It's me, the mysterious anon and I'm officially done with not just my exams but highschool! I got my results back few days ago and im surprised i almost got all As because during the last three exams I was literally reading will turner and lotr fanfictions more than my textbooks lmao 😭

And can I just say you're so so sweet and ilysm !!! tysm for accepting my request, can't wait to see how you are gonna write them! although, do remember to write it with your own pace, you don't have to feel obligated to finish it and post it asap (and this goes to all the requests you've gotten) we know you're a human being too with your own things in your daily life and ofc we acknowledge and respect that, that's the least we can do when you actually take time out of your life and accept to write our requests <333

I know I said it in the last ask I sent you but thank you so so much for accidently introducing me to will turner, remember how I fell down the rabbit hole? it seems i am still falling, but now in another rabbit hole named lord of the rings; yes I joined the lotr fandom! i was lookin for more orlando bloom movies and found out he played legolas and I started the series just for him lol,, really though the lotr universe is so beautiful!! ive always loved fantasy universes but was too lazy to actually start something classic like lotr but now that i've done it im feeling the hyperfixation literally running through my veins!! I ordered silmarillion and im like this close to ordering all the books in Tolkien legendarium even though im nearly broke lmao. and my bi ass is in love with everyone, especially the elves, came just for legolas but staying for all the tolkien elves and faramir, eowyn, sam and aragorn 😭 really though, I have barely read silmarillion yet i am in love with elves like ecthelion and glorfindel too 😭

i can't wait read more of your lotr work, so far, I've only read haldir fic (it was so cute!) and hobbit/doctor who one and im in love with that one!! i spend so much of my time thinking what if I were to accidently end up in my current hyperfixation universe. will I survive actually? Will I even be able to make eye contact with my comfort characters, or speak to them? unless somehow I get some kind of superpowers or immortality, i would likely die in the first fifteen minutes for sure haha. can't wait to read the second part of that story and how doctor fits into the story! Also mgime trope is actually so fun to read! after this one, I went to ao3 for more and im so in love with this trope im thinking about writing one myself!

Just realising, It's funny thing, joining new fandom tbh ; i remember scrolling through your page in March and i had no idea who any of the lotr characters or potc characters were but now im in love with the lotr&potc universe and its all i can think about. do you mind, if i ask you how do you balance fandoms thing? you're in so many fandoms and i always wonder how you love them/give them time equally even after having so many other fandoms. in recent years I've joined many fandoms but every time I join a new one, i start loving the new one so much i completely stop even thinking bout the old one. and it's incredibly silly i know but I feel like I'm betraying/cheating my old fandom and my comfort characters in a way by hyperfixating on whatever my current fandom is.

Speaking of hyperfixations, also so so excited for David tennant in the 60th specials!! And donna n wilf!! I too will have to finish 13's episodes before November though. btw did you see the bts pictures of 15 and the new companion Ruby? It seems like we're gonna get good history episodes with the new doctor !!

Oh also!! It's been officially a year since I started reading your fics! And today 29 May actually marks the day(technically night ig) I read the last parts of dying girl series. I still remember that day, I had finished watching stranger things' then new episodes, I was already crying because of The max and vecna episode and I decided to torture myself more by reading the series and cried more lmao.

Ahh cant believe its been a year, i remember being anxious to send you my request and all those asks and now I am actually talking to you! I am so glad I decided to check out your blog last May, one of the best decision ive made! If it werent for you, i probably would've never further watched doctor who, or started potc and lotr/hobbit series and just Tolkien's work tbh. Ik I've said it a lot of times but really though, thank you so much for introducing me to all these movies, shows, books and ofc, your writing. I've loved every single second I've spent on your blog and while watching these tv and movie series, idk how to exactly word this because english isn't my first language, but the time spent on your blog and while watching the shows/movies really is best time I've spent in my boring life, I've felt more alive doing that than I actually had while living my "life".

Oh and I'm glad you had fun writing my domestic fic request! I would also love to read about the reader and doctors' in between adventures, hope you write about it and honestly, I'd love to read whatever you write, even if it isn't full fics, just random stuff like headcanons or draft ideas you had! And I would request bout it but I've already requested two fics and honestly, my brain feels too disconnected from the fic to give you ideas kinda stuff for the fic. I guess, its time to reread the series ; I hope I can get through it this time without crying though 😭

I still haven't finished watching all the potc movies, only two or three because I got into lotr, but more will turner content from you? So excited!! And yeah It is surprising that I haven't watched the movies because they are classic! but they actually came out before I was born/when I was really young so I didn't get to watch them at that time, plus movies, especially from outside my country weren't as accessible so my brain focused on what I had, the barbie and disney movies and tv cartoons.

Sometimes I honestly can't believe that all the movies/TV series I'm hyperfixating over came out so long ago and that I am watching and obsessing over them after like 15-20 years, that really is a lot of time! but tbh, I feel like this is how it was meant to be, yknow? I was meant to love these movies and characters rn, because maybe I needed them now more than I did back then. And as I said, I was barely a kid and didn't even speak English language, even if I did get to watch all the movies I don't think I'd even understand them lol.

Oh and I too love the pen pal things we have going, it's fun, isn't it? Really sorry for replying months late though, i wanted to write earlier but I have executive dysfunction so it's really hard to do even the simplest of things😭 next time i'll try not to be months late lol.

I just realised I wrote a lot lol, Thank you for reading the whole rambling, I hope the whole thing doesn't seem too diorganised to read . And yeah, Bye! hope you have good day/night or whatever time of the day you're reading this at<333

Hello mysterious anon!

I think our trend will now be just randomly replying to each other every few months because 100% we both have busy lives.

I feel weirdly proud to have instigated some of your new fandom hyperfixations, I am so obsessed with too many. It is really hard to spread all my love/attention to so many.

I think I look at it like phases. I will always return to my old loves, but depending on my mood or phase in life I'm drawn to a certain fandom. I started rewatching Criminal Minds a while ago and got so reinvested in the show that I started writing a series with Spencer Reid {it's like 21k words right now and I haven't decided if I'm posting it or not}

And I started watching The Crown, so I've fully entered another time period phase and I want to watch all things Jane Austen. I read Sense and Sensibility recently because of it. I think I'm going to watch Little House on the Prairie for the time period drama. I might watch Poldark or Outlander or Vikings for the same reason.

I agree it's hard to move on to another fandom when you feel you're neglecting the others. I try to refresh my brain of my old favorites, like I remember the day I mixed up Death Eaters and Dementors and I felt so ashamed that I reread the whole Harry Potter series just to remind myself.

I guess I just do my best to acknowledge all of them and then be patient when I'm fixating on only one in particular. I find a balance when I'm writing fics about them because I'll rewatch something so I can get a feel for the characters before I write about them. But sometimes it is hard to write a request for a character that I am not currently obsessed with.

I'm glad you passed your classes and are hopefully moving on to bigger and better things {I know you are fandom wise}. I haven't been writing much the last year, but I do still check my activity frequently. We'll see what and when I'll decide to post next.

But for now, I wish you luck in life and hopefully the comfort you'll get from your new potc and lotr friends will get you through some of the tough times.

💜 Hannah

#okay j hannah #okayjhannah #fandomfantasia #hannahbeartalks #okayjhannah answer #okayjhannah question #anon ask okay j hannah

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stealingpotatoes · 3 years

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The Thorns of the Crown

ao3 link

summary: After everything Corvo’s family has been through in the past six months, he’s not so sure the throne is worth it all. (Emily doesn’t take the throne back au)

The Loyalists had been fools to think they could kill him and take his daughter, and still get away with it.

Corvo had silently fought his way through the Lighthouse, putting guards to sleep as he forced his way to the very top, where he knew his would-be murderers were. Where he knew Emily’s now-captors were.

He entered the foyer of the highest part of the Lighthouse as quietly as a ghost, and was immediately met with the grotesque sight of a golden statue of Hiram Burrows, standing proudly in the middle of the golden-gilded room. It was ironic to lay eyes on the false sight of the traitor Corvo had defeated, while on his way to deal with the very traitors that had ordered him to do it. The Loyalists had not learnt from the mistakes of those before them, it seemed.

A grand staircase wound around the circular walls that surrounded the beastly statue, leading to a room above. That was where they had to be.

I’m coming Em.

Corvo lifted his mask off as he quietly ascended the winding stairs. There was no point of hiding behind the face of Death; the Loyalists knew who he was. Or, at least they thought they did.

Corvo finally drew up to the entrance to the war room, and put his back to the wall beside a bust of Burrows. With a deep breath in, he channeled the Void through his hand, and watched the world shift into muted reds.

He looked over his shoulder, through the wall.

There were only two yellow shapes -- two men -- in the room ahead. Not guarding, but sitting at a table. No, slumped against the table. Are they sleeping? Or something else?

Corvo checked his crossbow, making sure it was loaded with sleep darts, and rounded the corner fast.

A dead man’s silence lay over the room like a heavy shroud, interrupted only by the harsh patter of rain.

The top of the Lighthouse was a purpose-built war room. It was finely wood-panelled like the rest of the building, but the left wall was covered with a huge map, places circled and labelled with smaller papers. There was a lit fireplace at the far end, with chairs surrounding it.

At the room’s main centre was a large war table -- where Burrows had no doubt spearheaded his campaigns and his war on the common people of Dunwall.

But it was not being used to plan any wars now; at the end of the table, fine foods had been served with expensive-looking wine. The food had not been eaten -- but the drink had been poured.

Martin’s body was slumped in place, and Pendleton had fallen half-off his chair. Neither of them were moving in the slightest.

Corvo slowly began to lower his crossbow, keeping a firm grip on it, and skulked towards Pendleton.

He put two fingers to the pulse on Pendleton’s neck, and heard the crunch of boots on glass. Corvo stepped back.

Shards of glass were shattered about by Pendleton’s limp hand, with drops of blood-- no, wine spilt around them.

Corvo glanced back up across the table; Martin had a glass in his hand too, and Corvo was willing to bet he had no pulse either.

Corvo stood up straight. From the glasses and past experience, he did not have to guess what had happened to them. Poisoned -- but with no boatman to save them.

But where was the man that had done this?

Corvo activated his dark vision again, scanning for any more yellow shapes that might have been out of range before.

His dark vision melted back away, unsuccessful -- but as it did, Corvo’s eyes halted on a purple shape on the floor behind Martin.

He moved over to it, a new sense of dread filling him, and crouched to pick it up. He inspected it for barely a moment; he didn’t need any longer to recognise it. It was Mrs. Pilsen, Emily’s favourite doll, the one Corvo had given her back upon his return to the Tower.

Corvo ran a thumb over a new, small crack in the doll’s painted porcelain face -- Emily must’ve dropped her. But she had been here. She had to have been. So where is Emily now? And where is Havelock?

A little girl’s scream was Corvo’s first answer.

Corvo’s eyes widened. Emily.

The voice had come from above, and-- outside? Corvo looked around the room again, and he zeroed in on the second set of stairs, behind the wall. She had to be up there. She had to.

As he rushed up the stairs, he noticed the small splashes of blood on the wood of the stairs and floor. If so much as a speck the blood is Emily’s, Corvo thought, running, then I am going to make damn sure Havelock wishes he had never been born.

The trail of blood continued into the office at the top of the stairs, out onto the metal balcony that began out of a door in the glass-roof and wall. Corvo continued his pace, unfolding his sword as he burst into the pouring storm once again.

There was no sign of her there. Corvo raced to his left, up another set of stairs. He paused on a landing -- the trail stopped there, on a maid, dead, surrounded by her own blood. It was no relief.

“NO! Let me go!”

Corvo’s eyes darted up.

On the walkway far above, two people were moving-- struggling, silhouetted against the sky. One far larger, one far smaller.

“Quiet now! And move already, child!”

Havelock.

A hundred words of vengeance filled Corvo’s head, but he said none of them. He only darted to his left again, bounding up the rest of the staircase to the entrance of a sheltered stairwell. The voices were audible again as he entered.

“Hold still you stupid girl!” Havelock’s voice boomed through the rain.

“Let me go! I am the Empress!”

Corvo kept running up the twisting stairs.

“Didn't you learn anything in your short life?” Havelock yelled seethingly. “Empresses are pieces on the board. And Empresses can sometimes die--”

Corvo stepped out of the shelter and onto the walkway. He didn’t need to announce his presence -- Havelock looked up the second Corvo laid more than two steps on the metal.

Another bout of thunder and lightning struck somewhere in the storm.

“No! Stay where you are Corvo, or I jump,” the Admiral yelled over the rain.

“Corvo! Save me!” Emily screamed.

Corvo stopped walking.

“That’s right,” Havelock said, a maniacally grim satisfaction rising in his voice at Corvo following his orders. “If you take one step closer, we’re both off the edge.”

I don’t need to take a step to get to you, Corvo thought.

He made a show of folding his blade back up and sheathing it, before holding his hands up slowly in a surrender. The rain was beating down on him.

Corvo let himself lock eyes with Emily -- but only for a moment. Then he fixed his blazing-ice gaze on Havelock, who wore the grin of a man that thought himself entirely in control.

Havelock opened his mouth to begin some taunting speech. Lightning struck beyond the edge of the walkway.

Corvo curled his raised left hand into a fist, feeling that sharp pins-and-needles sensation on the Mark and called the Void forth. It heeded his demand with a sharp whisper. Time ground to a complete halt around him.

The lightning behind Havelock and Emily stopped its descent half way down, looking like a harsh rift of pure light in the sky. Water droplets stood in place, small gems floating against the dark storm clouds.

Everything was still.

Corvo didn’t waste a second; he ran forward and at once pulled Emily out of Havelock’s unknowing grip, shoving the Admiral hard as he did it

Corvo took a short, undeserved moment to take in the frozen sight of Emily, half in his arms, before releasing his taxing hold on time.

The grey scream of the dragged-out present disappeared. and the world resumed its pace. Emily almost tripped onto the metal floor with the force of time’s discharge, but Corvo held her safe.

Havelock hung for a moment, as if time wasn’t yet properly flowing, his footing just lost and surprise written all over him. He had expected one last piece of control -- control over his own death. But he had fallen into the same trap as all those before. He had become too comfortable in his position, and he had forgotten that Death belonged to no man, and followed no man’s orders. No matter their station.

Havelock fell.

Corvo, still holding tight to Emily, peered ever so slightly over the edge. He watched the Admiral’s screaming descent until he hit the jaws of the rocks below.

After what felt like a moment too many, Corvo turned to his daughter, still holding onto him for dear life. He held her back, and tucked a drenched strand of messy hair from her face. The rain still beat down on them, ceaseless, soaking their already-soaked clothes and hair.

“Are you okay?” Corvo asked hurriedly.

Emily gave him a shaky nod, eyes still wide with fear. “I-- I think so.”

Corvo nodded in return. “We need to get out of the storm.” Logic was slowly returning, replacing the blood haze seeing Emily in such danger put him in.

Corvo made himself let Emily go for the moment, and she ran ahead onto the covered metal stairwell he had just come from. Corvo followed just as swiftly. They both traversed down the small stairs, the sound of Emily’s little shoes on metal filling Corvo with more and more relief.

He had only paused by the bottom doorway for a second when Emily barrelled right into him for a hug. “I knew you’d save me! You’re my hero, Corvo,” she said, voice half-muffled by his wet coat but slowly coming back to herself.

When she pulled away briefly, Corvo knelt down to just below her eye level and pulled her into a proper hug. He knew was probably hugging her too tight, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything but the feeling of his daughter in his arms. She was shaking and freezing-wet, but still warm enough. But still alive.

The storm raged on on the walkways outside of their small shelter.

Eventually, they both pulled back, and Corvo took Emily’s tiny hands in his. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“You-- you already asked me that,” Emily said, still shivering from the cold and the fear. When Corvo’s worried expression didn’t change, she told him, “I think I’m alright. I’m alright now you’re here.”

Corvo nodded, feeling some small part of the weight on his shoulders go.

“Is it going to be okay now? Will I-- will I be Empress?” Emily asked, almost eagerly.

Corvo glanced down.

He thought of Jessamine. Of her cold dead eyes in the Gazebo. Of her blood on his hands.

Empresses are pieces on the board. And Empresses can sometimes die.

The Heart was beating, an unrelenting pulse in the back of his mind. An incessant reminder that what Havelock had said was true; Empresses die. And who was Corvo to be able to stop it? He had failed once; he could fail again. Death followed no one’s orders; not orders from Empresses, nor those from Lord Protectors.

I know what it felt like to drive a blade into your Empress.

Empresses die. And for what? So men could take control of the damned city of Dunwall? This city didn’t care about them. It didn’t care about anyone. It ate everything alive. It would not let an Empress be safe, no matter how good or pure of heart she was.

The crown and throne were nothing but a curse and objects of desire for ambitious men who thought themselves the better of people. The curse of power nearly took the last of his family from him -- the family that, because of the crown and its rules and its curses, he had never been able to openly call his own.

Empresses die. And so did Burrows, and Havelock, and Pendleton, and Martin. And so did everyone else that tried to hold that kind of power.

Now I want nothing but to leave this wretched city, and fade from the memories of those who reside here.

Emily was just a girl. She was Corvo’s girl, his baby girl. She wasn’t meant to be a piece on a board, a piece in Dunwall’s deadly game of power. She wasn’t meant to hold an Empire in her small hands.

She wasn’t meant to die.

If they went home, if Corvo let Emily take back the throne… what fate would he be damning her too? She would be forever caught in the crossfire of power-grabs and the schemes of conniving politicians. All it took was one wrong move, and Corvo would lose her to that crossfire. That was not the life he wanted her to live. That was not the death he could ever let her die.

This was the only way he could protect Emily. He wasn’t sure if Jess would ever truly approve of it, but she had not been through what they had been through. He hoped what was left of her would understand.

Empresses die. But Emily wouldn’t. Not if Corvo could help it.

The Heart continued to beat.

Corvo pulled Emily closer and planted a kiss on her forehead, “It’s going to be okay now. I promise.”

A relief seeped into Emily’s big brown eyes, and Corvo felt something squeeze in his chest at her expression. “Are we going home then?”

Corvo swallowed. He shook his head.

Confusion knit itself between Emily’s furrowed brows. “What?”

“We can’t go home, and you won’t be Empress,” Corvo said slowly, forcing the words out. This was how it had to be. I can’t protect you from this city. Nothing can, Corvo thought. “Dunwall and Dunwall Tower-- they aren’t safe,” he said instead. “They aren’t ever going to be safe.”

Corvo had expected Emily to show more resistance, or be more upset at the idea they couldn’t return to Dunwall Tower -- but maybe he still expected Emily to be the girl she had been six-and-a-half months ago, before this all happened. But she was not that girl; Emily merely nodded, with a look she was too young to have in her eyes.

“So where are we going to go?” she asked.

Corvo tightened his grip on her hands. “We’re going to take a ship out of here--”

“Like a pirate ship?”

Corvo huffed out a half-laugh, relief at really having his daughter back hitting him hard. I love you so much, he thought. “Yes, like a pirate ship,” he said with a small smile. “We’re going to take a ship out, and-- and we’re going to make a new home, somewhere else. Just the two of us.”

“Three of us,” Emily corrected. After seeing Corvo’s confused expression, she made an obvious face. “Mrs Pilsen! I grabbed her when they took me, but I left her downstairs.”

Corvo shook his head, half-laughing again. All that had just happened, and Emily’s first concern was her favourite dolly. It filled Corvo with faith. They could do this. They could live a normal life, where Corvo could just be a father and, Emily could just be a daughter. Where she would be allowed to be a child, and not a piece to be manipulated.

He squeezed Emily’s hands. “The two of us and Mrs. Pilsen. We’ll make a new home. How does that sound?”

Emily’s eyes drifted to the floor below, and she bit her still soaking-wet lip for a moment. “I…” her gaze returned to Corvo, and she slowly gave him a small smile, “I’d like that.”

Corvo pulled her into another hug.

---

Emily woke up to the slight sway of the sea beneath her.

They had been on this boat more than a week now. It wasn’t like any boat she had been on before -- far less fancy, and far more dirty.

Emily knew a smuggler was a lot like a pirate, but this boat didn’t look like the boats from Emily’s story books. This was a big metal steam-ship, not a pirate’s sailboat with a flag of skull-and-crossbones.

And the pirates in the stories never had to check themselves for signs of the plague, or make certain no rats had come aboard, but the smugglers had had to. So had Emily and Corvo.

Emily wasn’t sure “Slackjaw” was a real name, but apparently it was the name of Corvo’s friend who set this all up. He owed Corvo one, because he had saved “Slackjaw”'s life. Which made sense -- Corvo was good at saving lives. He’d saved Emily’s life more times than she could count. He’d been saving Emily’s life since before she could even count.

But Corvo had saved Slackjaw’s life, and so Slackjaw owed him a favour. Corvo used that favour to get him and Emily on a smuggler’s ship with new clothes and made-up papers.

The papers didn’t have Corvo or Emily’s real names on them, but Corvo had said that he and Emily would need to take new names, to stay safe.

Emily hoped they could come up with something better than Slackjaw.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up in her cot-bed, before glancing to the other side of the tiny cabin.

The cabin -- if it could even be called that; oversized cupboard seemed more apt -- was flakily-painted metal, like the rest of the ship. The tiny room was almost empty, besides Corvo and Emily’s few belongings, and the two foldaway cots pressed against the walls.

The size of the room allowed very little space between the two cots -- and so Emily had a very good view of Corvo, sitting on the far end of his.

He was fully dressed already. It still was funny to see him in something other than a long coat, but Emily supposed the roughspun jacket and shirt he was wearing now suited him well enough. His folding sword was somewhere underneath the jacket, and that gave Emily no small amount of comfort.

She squinted in the near-dark. Corvo was looking down at his hands, clasped as if they were tenderly holding something. He mumbled something at his hands, entirely fixated on the empty space.

“Father,” Emily started, barely able to stop herself from grinning as she did every time she called him that. Corvo said she was allowed to now. “Father?”

“Mm?” Corvo hummed in an almost-startled reply, quickly looking up from the nothing in his hands.

“What time is it?”

“Early enough that you can go back to bed,” Corvo said fondly.

“Is it early early?”

“What does that mean?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Is the sun out yet?”

Corvo glanced back ahead, as if he could see through the walls of the cabin. “No,” he said, turning back, “but it will be soon. The crew’s beginning to wake up.”

Emily perked up. “Can we watch the sunrise? Please?”

She thought Corvo might say no for a second, but instead he smiled and nodded. “If you really want to.”

Emily nodded gingerly, then shuffled to the end of her cot and pushed herself onto the floor.

Corvo stood up too -- bent over slightly, unable to stand to his full height under the cabin’s short ceilings. He’d moved his hands apart now, as if he’d put the nothing he was holding back down somewhere. Emily paid no mind to it, only grabbing her coat from the back of the door and putting her shoes on, before giving her father a big smile to say she was ready.

Corvo returned the smile, and quietly opened the door, letting her pass into the cramped metal hallway.

He didn’t have to tell her to try to be quiet too. Emily knew that some of the crew would still be asleep, and they needed to be nice and courteous to the smugglers, as any guest would be towards their hosts.

Part of that meant Corvo had to help around the ship a bit, so he and Emily were more worth their while. The smugglers seemed to like him; they’d told him that if he ever wanted a solid job, he could join their crew. Corvo didn’t seem that interested.

After a short time of quiet footsteps in the hall, Corvo and Emily reached a heavy metal ship-door, which Corvo opened with ease.

The fresh not-yet-morning sea air hit Emily with a gentle breeze as they stepped onto the side deck of the boat. It had been getting warmer every day, as the ship got further from cold Gristol, and closer to sunny Serkonos.

The sea ahead was almost dark, but a peaking of the sun on the horizon drove a warm streak across the water.

Emily walked up to the ship’s metal side railing and peaked over it, but didn’t look off the edge. She had done that on the first day on the ship, and promptly regretted it, needing Corvo to calm her down and remind her that they weren’t at the top of the Lighthouse anymore. That she was safe.

“I can’t wait to be in Karnaca,” Emily said. “Will you show me everything you told me about?”

Corvo nodded with a small smile, a fond and loving look in his eyes. “I’ll show you whatever you want to see in Karnaca.”

“And can I go swimming in the bay, like you said you used to? Ooh, or climb the big trees? And-- and--”

Corvo chuckled, “You can do all of that, and more.”

Emily grinned giddily, and looked back to the sea ahead.

The sun was beginning to rise over the waters, painting the world around them hues of orange. Emily wondered if the sun was rising just the same in Dunwall. She supposed it didn’t really matter; what mattered was that it was rising, and that she had her father by her side to see it.

A new day was dawning for them both, and Emily found herself apprehensively excited. It would be a strange new future ahead, one that she did not know, but she had decided it would be a good future. She knew Corvo would make sure of that.

Emily leaned in closer to Corvo, who too was partly leant on the railing, and rested her small head on his arm. In response, he lifted his arm up and pulled her closer to his torso, before settling his arm on her shoulders in a warm half-hug.

Emily smiled, snuggling nearer and keeping her eyes on the rising sun ahead.

#dishonored #corvo attano #emily kaldwin #farley havelock #HAHA I FINISHED A FIC AFTER NOT BEING ABLE TO DO THAT SINCE MARCH #but i did not read this through so have fun #a normal life dh au #potes wrotes #dishonored fanfic

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 4 years

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Work It Out

Summary: Spencer realizes that he might just have feelings for his neighbor after seeing her in her workout gear.

A/N: I boofed it. Trying to write a blurb and I ended up writing a whole fic. I will never learn.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Implied that reader is athletic but no mention of her body type)

Category: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Warnings/Includes: bad communication, cursing, smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, light spanking, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 2.7k

Masterlist

Requests Filled:

“blurb idea that’s been living in my head, rent-free: reader is spencer’s neighbor and a dancer, who he has a huge crush on. spencer goes over to her apartment to borrow something and interrupts her daily stretches and spencer gets all flustered because she’s wearing leggings and a sports bra, and she’s so flexible”

“okay so this next thought came to my mind while i was doing some exercise lol: imagine that u started a new routine and you feel super tired at the ten minutes of the video haha, then spencer came back to work and when he see u doing some squats he's so turn on and then he just get close to you from behind and whispers "c'mon bunny, u can't with this, the only thing that u can handle is my cock" and then he just fuck y/n so hard aaaaaaaaa btw i'm the anon who sent that visual the past week of Twitter about the flowery lingerie 😌🙏🏻 —🥀”

“okay so like reader working out in Spencer’s apartment and he’s just watching her and getting all worked up. reader noticed and starts teasing him until he can’t handle it - 🐍”

-- -- --

They’d struck up a friendship almost instantly, from that first day that she moved in. He tried to help her with her boxes but he almost felt like he was holding her back, he got winded just going up and down the stairs on his own, let alone while he carried an entire box he later found out had been full of books. She laughed at him when he placed it down on her kitchen table and read the permanent marker label on the side. He still remembers how light her laugh had made him feel, how perfect it was.

From that first day things were just easy, effortless. He liked that he didn’t have to think around her, about work, about anything, he always felt so comfortable around her. Until that day.

The day that he couldn’t find his dustpan and brush after breaking a glass, so he went next door to see if she had one he could borrow. When he knocked on the door and heard a small ‘it’s open’, he walked in as normal, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight.

The furniture in her living room was pushed to the walls as she stretched in the centre of the room. He was sure there must’ve been a name for the pose she was in, but all he could concentrate on in that moment was how her body looked in the spandex of her leggings and sports bra. The smooth way her body contorted into strange shapes, the way her back arched so perfectly, and the way he could make out every curve of her body in a way he’d never really noticed before.

Thankfully she didn’t seem to notice his staring as she concentrated on her movements before finishing up her pose.

“What’s up Spence?” she breathed once she relaxed, turning her eyes to him.

And for a moment he wanted to turn around and run away. He was almost positive that his face was a glowing shade of pink, he could feel the heat as it radiated off of his cheeks while she looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, I um- A glass!” he stuttered out, “I broke a glass” he finally managed but she still just looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

“Okay, we’re really low on news today I see” she laughed, and he sort of wished she hadn’t, because it’s his absolute favorite sound.

“Sorry, I wanted to- I uh- I came over to see if you had a sweeping brush?” the words almost get caught in his throat but he fights to get them out, and he’s more proud than he really should be.

“Oh, under the sink!” she tells him, and he makes quick work of finding it before mumbling his ‘thanks’ and rushing back to the safety of his own apartment.

It’s a day he could never forget, even if his memory was normal. And part of him wished he could forget, because he knows that that’s the day he started treating her differently. It wasn’t easy or simple anymore. It was awkward and strange and he had a huge, stupid crush on her.

-- --

It doesn’t take long for her to notice the little changes in his behavior, the way he avoids her in the halls, or always seems to be inexplicably busy whenever she tries to make plans. And on the odd occasion that they do speak he never seems to be able to hold eye contact. It continues like that for a while until she just can’t take it for another second.

She waits until she knows he’s home, staring out the peephole at the door opposite hers until she sees him open it up and walk inside. She gives him about 5 minutes before she marches over and slams her fist against the door, a lot more urgent than necessary.

When he opens the door he looks tired and deflated, and his tie is undone, hanging around his neck. She can see the fatigue leave his features a second later, only to be replaced by a look of pure shock.

“Y/N?” he asks, like he’s not sure she’s really even there.

“Yeah, can I come in?” she asks, but she’s already maneuvering past him and into his living room like she’d done so many times before he’d gotten strange.

“What are you doing here?” he manages to get out once his shock subsides.

“What’s going on with you Spence? We’re best friends until one day you decide you don’t like me? What’s that about, I just have to pretend like I live next door to a stranger now?”

He looks like a deer caught in headlights. She’s not even sure she can see him breathing as his face begins to flush.

“I’m sorry” he breathes out first, “I wasn’t trying to- okay I was avoiding you, but it’s not because I don’t like you”

“Sure seems like it” she sighs, and for a second he looks heartbroken.

“No!” he blurts out, “It’s not that, I swear” he shakes his head, reaching out to touch her before retracting his grip, thinking the better of it.

“Then what is it Spence?” she looks at him with a softness now, with a pleading behind her eyes, and he can’t hold back anymore.

“It’s because I do like you” he says it like he’s relieved, like it had been gnawing at him, “Because I really like you”

“Like me?” she asks, the realization finally dawning. “As in...”

“As in... romantically?” he can’t look at her when he says it, closing his eyes as if he’s bracing for impact. But the next thing he hears is his favorite sound once again. She laughs at him. It’s not cynical, or rude, it’s the kind that’s filled with joy, and maybe just a little exasperation.

“Well I wish you’d’ve told me that sooner” she says once she’s calmed down, and when he opens his eyes she’s smiling at him, taking a step closer.

“You do?”

“Mmhmm” she nods, “That way, I could’ve let you know all about this crush I’ve been harboring on you for a while now.”

He doesn’t have time to think before she’s got her lips on his, soft and delicate against him. For a minute he can’t really understand what’s happening as her hands reach up to cup his face softly, and they stay there after she pulls back. Her thumbs gently grazing his cheekbones as she admires his shocked expression.

“You’ve had a crush on me?” is the first thing he thinks to say, and she nods, smiling up at him.

“Since that first day when you helped me move in” she admits, and the timeline clicks in his head. She’s wanted this longer than he even had. Something about it puts his mind at ease, the though of being desirable to someone like her just makes him swell with pride in a way he’s not even sure he understands.

“Oh” is all he manages to get out though.

“I know, we gotta work on your self confidence because you, Spencer Reid, are a catch” she smiles at him before diving in for their second kiss.

-- --

It’s probably too crass to say out loud, but his favorite part about moving in together is undoubtedly, her daily exercise routine. Sometimes it’s in the morning, sometimes the afternoon, sometimes the evening. He’s actually starting to suspect that she times it for when she knows he’ll be around to see it.

He waited a little while to confess just know much he thought about her in those leggings. The lilac ones that were still in her rotation. Not that he didn’t find her sexy all of the time, he really did. But there was just something, maybe pavlovian, about seeing her in those lilac leggings. The way they hugged her body, he always found himself staring more than he was proud of.

Whatever routine she’s following this morning has her just a little out of breath. And he pretends to be reading the paper at his desk while she pants less than 10 feet away from him. The sound alone is distracting, but when he glances up and he can see her doing squats, all he can focus on is her ass in those fucking leggings.

“8, 9.... 10″ she breathes out, finishing off with a small groan.

“Too hard?” he chuckles, giving in and laying his paper down.

“No way, I can handle it” she turns around to grin at him before turning back around, starting into another set, counting them out slowly.

He seizes the opportunity and gets up out of his chair, making his way quietly over to her while she concentrates on her form. When he’s finally behind her she’s nearly out of breath again, pushing through the last rep when his hand snakes around her waist and pulls her back against him. He leans in to her ear as he whispers.

“C’mon Bunny, I guess you can handle your squats, but can you handle this” he almost moans it as he presses his already hard cock right up against her ass.

“Fuck” she breathes out in a little gasp, her hands moving up into his hair to pull him closer.

“Do you think you can handle it Bunny?” he groans again, grinding himself against her this time.

“Yes! Yes Spencer please, I can take it” she moans out as his hands begin to roam over her body, gently tracing along the exposed skin between her bra and her leggings, feeling the warmth of it.

“Then be a good Bunny and bend over for me, okay?” he growls against her ear and she moves fast, bending over the back of the sofa, and presenting herself to him. He takes a step back to admire the view for a moment before he’s got his hands on her body again. His fingers go straight to the waistband of the leggings, tugging the smooth fabric down, pulling it until it's gathered around her feet, quickly doing the same with her panties until there was nothing in his way.

“Fuck, you look so good like this” he groans, a soft hand caressing the smooth skin of her ass before rising up and coming back down with a loud slap, followed by a high pitched whine from her.

“Did you like that Bunny?” he asks, gripping a rough handful of her ass as she moans out a meek ‘yes’

So he repeats the action, pulling his hand up only to slam it back down again rough and excited against the now sensitive skin.

“Fuck” she purrs, her legs closing, thighs moving together in an attempt to get some friction. But he puts a stop to that right away, placing one of his feet between hers and kicking them apart so her legs were spread for him.

“If you wanted something Bunny, all you had to do was ask” he teases, moving his hand along the curve of her ass until it was hovering between her legs, where she was desperate and wanting. He purposefully lingers just a moment too long before pushing two fingers inside of her. He’s rewarded with a low moan that pours out of her.

“So wet from just a little spanking, you’re so good for me” he groans, “Do you think you can handle my cock yet sweetheart?”

She can’t help the way she clenches and tightens around his fingers at the very thought. It’s not like they didn’t fill her up, they were so much longer and more agile than her own fingers, but nothing could really compare to his cock.

“Fuck, please” she whimpers, wiggling her hips just a little as though that might help convince him that she deserved it.

“Such a good girl, I think you’ve earned it” as he speaks he pulls his fingers gently out of her, and she forces herself not to while at the loss of contact. He pulls his cock out of his boxers, pumping it himself a few times before he lines up behind her. Though they both love this position, she can’t help but miss watching him. The way his eyes close and and he bites his perfect plump bottom lip. But then he’s easing in and the feeling of him is enough to eclipse every other thought in her head.

“Oh god! Spencer!” she stutters out a moan, her hands flying forward to grab at the cushions on the sofa, digging her fingers into the soft down.

“You feel so good Bunny, always so wet for me” he groans as he pushes the whole way in, burying himself right up to the hilt.

His hands make their home on either side of her hips, his grip is tight as he pulls her back against him at the same time that he pushes his hips forward, slamming in on each thrust with everything he’s got.

Hips hit against her ass each time, rocking right up against the quickly forming handprint there whenever their skin collides. The slight burn only intensifying the already overwhelming pleasure.

“So- ah- I’m so close” she manages to moan out in between all the gasps and pants, and without speaking Spencer reaches down to grab the straps at the back of her sports bra, using the leverage to pull her back up. Meeting her halfway he presses his chest right up against her back, one hand snaking around to loosely grip her throat. The other making its way down between her legs.

“Fuck- Spencer- I-” she gasps at his fingers start to run in small circles around her swollen clit, his hips continuing their motions at the same time. All of it building dangerously fast.

“What’s the matter? Too much for you Bunny?” he teases with a groan, right against her ear.

“No!” she rushes out, one of her hands bracing herself against the back of the sofa, the other draping itself loosely over his hand between her legs, encouraging but not interfering with its movements.

“That’s a good girl. Are you gonna cum all over my cock Bunny?”

She doesn’t have time to answer his question before she’s putty in his hands. Melting into his grip as he continues to move inside of her and against her. The only thing keeping her from falling to the ground is her loose grip on the edge of the sofa and Spencers hand around her neck as she moans out his name.

It’s only a few seconds later that his hips begin to stutter and both of his hands are on her hips again, pulling them tight against his own as he grows closer and closer. And then he’s cumming with a rough groan and a bunch of shallow breaths, filling her up entirely as she begins to slump against the sofa once again.

“Spence, fuck” she says with a deep breath, “That was unbelievable”

They’re both covered in a layer of sweat now, and Spencer can feel the hair that’s probably stuck to his forehead. In his exhausted state all he really wants to do is lay down against her back, gathering their breathing again. But he knows that’s just his cloudy mind talking. So he manages to loosen his grip on her hips and pull out slowly before rushing to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth.

He takes it and gently cleans the mess that he made between her legs before it gets the chance to drip down. Once she’s clean he helps her stand upright once again.

Although he’d come a long way with his self confidence there were still times like this where he let himself feel awkward, or unsure. Especially right after he’d just been so bold. But in times like this she knows exactly what to do. Rising up, she places her hands on either side of his face and kisses him, soft and gentle, just for a moment, before pulling back again to look at him.

“Shower?”

-- -- --

Thank you so much for reading x

-- -- --

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864 notes · View notes

rpf-bat · 2 years

Note

19, 27, 33 for the Weird Writing asks?

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I started writing fanfic in August 2011. It was right after I came home from summer camp. I’d made a friend at camp who used Fanfiction.net, and it inspired me to make an account myself. ^^;

Initially, I wrote a bunch of weeb shit (Yu Gi Oh, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Fruits Basket, Naruto, etc)

In December 2013, I joined Tumblr. I went through a somewhat cringey Supernatural phase, and ended up posting a couple SPN fics on my FF account.

Then, in late 2015, I got really into Fall Out Boy. In March 2016, I posted my first RPF fic, to my main blog. It was Pete Wentz/Reader. It was set in the Sixteen Candles music video universe (so…Vampire!Pete).

I never actually finished it, because I got some rude comments about how writing fic about Real People was weird and cringey. 😔

Then, in July 2016, I started getting into MCR…and I wrote Party Poison/OC.

Someone I was mutuals with on main - trying to defend me - said, “well it’s not actual Gerard, it’s just a character he played. So it’s not weird haha”

Me in my head: I really want to write about Actual Gerard, though. Fuck. 😰

In October 2016, I created this blog, so I could write MCR reader inserts without shame. ^^;

From October 2016 to February 2021, I was consistently writing MCR fic. That’s an incredibly long time, and I’m so grateful for the friends I’ve made in this fandom. 🖤

But, as winter came to an end, MCR stopped being my special interest. In March 2021, I got really into the anime RWBY, and made an AO3 account, so I could post my RWBY fics there.

Then, In May 2021, I watched Eurovision, and it changed everything.

Mere days after Måneskin won the competition, I started writing a Damiano David/Reader fic. It was multichapter, which was huge for me, because I’d written literally nothing but oneshots for five years straight.

….I didn’t finish this fic, either. 🤦‍♀️

Sometime around August 2021, when Balboa came out, my brain switched special interests again, from Måneskin to Blind Channel.

…and that’s still where it’s at now, a year later. 🤷‍♀️ I don’t know how long this will be my special interest. Or what the next one will be after this. But, I’ve made so many great friends in the BC fandom, too. 💖 So, I hope I stick around for a while.

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

….I had to think hard about this one, because fanfic is rarely stressful for me! I have so much fun with all my characters. 😄

I guess I kind of stressed about Demon!Niko, because that AU was far dirtier and more explicit, than anything else I had written in years. 😳

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

Writing is pretty much it for me ^^;

But, I don’t only write fanfic! Fun fact: I’ve been writing poetry since I was like, nine years old.

During middle school, I started reciting my poetry publicly. I even caught the attention of my local literary magazine, while competing at a poetry slam. The magazine was only published in the county where I lived, but I got to tell everyone I was a Published Author lmao

I also got second place in the school talent show 🥈

I took a break from it for a while, but, when I was 20, my friend convinced me to recite some poems at an open mic night at my university. I got so much applause, I was really blown away 🥰

I wish I could find an event like that where I live now. I really miss it. As for how it ties into my fic writing…I’m able to relate to Niko and Gerard a bit more, because they’re lyricists. Singing on stage and reciting on stage feel a little similar, I guess?

#thank you for your ask!#jfc I got so fucking rambly here 🤦‍♀️

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fangroyal · 3 years

Note

#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂

Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.

So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.

AT LEAST

NOT UNTIL TODAY

YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.

FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.

Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...

Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:

Fred Lives AU

The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology

The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)

Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)

Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)

Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy

Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)

Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo

Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion

So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around

The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)

Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private

After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)

They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘

Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)

In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:

NC-17 (smut incoming!)

Technology circa 2005

Phone sex

Semi-public sex

Sex toys

Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)

Crack taken way too seriously

Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...

HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.

Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.

Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.

He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Is he coming, then?"

Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.

"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.

Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."

Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.

At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.

"Parkinson?"

She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"

"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"

The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.

"Whatever for?"

Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.

To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.

She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.

Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.

Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.

He hit call.

Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.

Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"

Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.

"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."

"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."

"I know."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."

So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.

"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."

"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."

Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"

"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."

Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."

Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"

"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"

A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"

The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"

Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.

Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.

Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."

Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"

"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."

Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.

Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."

"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.

"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"

Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.

"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.

"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.

Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."

"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.

"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."

Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.

"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."

Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.

"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."

Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.

"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.

"Would I want to what ― oh."

Oh.

Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.

"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."

Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."

"Terribly clever, this one."

A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.

"Occupied!"

He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.

"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.

"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."

"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"

Another frustrated turn of the door handle.

"It's a single."

"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"

Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"

"Your dildo, Weasley."

The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.

"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."

"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."

Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."

Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.

"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.

"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.

Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.

Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"

"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."

Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.

Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.

"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.

Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.

"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.

"Yes, gods."

Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.

Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.

"Talk to me, Weasley."

Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.

"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.

Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.

"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"

"Oh, we're well acquainted."

"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.

Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.

Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.

Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.

"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.

Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"

"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."

"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"

"Fucking hell, Malfoy."

At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.

"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping.

Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.

The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.

"I liked that. A lot."

Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."

Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?

Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.

"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"

"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."

"You too, Malfoy."

Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.

The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.

#writer asks #dron #ron x draco #ron weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fangqueen writes fanfiction #fangqueen speaks

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thewildsophia · 4 years

Text

.Of Swords and Skin. Demon Slayer//Agatsuma Zenitsu x Hashibira Inosuke

Depressed! Agatsuma Zenitsu x Hashibira Inosuke

Trigger Warning: Self-harm, Talk about self-hatred.

A/N: Haha, Zenitsu’s self-hatred go brrr. Anyways, since I’m a whore for angst and couldn’t find a fic like this for this ship, so I made one. Enjoy I guess.

Word Count: 3318

“The hell are you doing, Monitsu?!” Inosake shouted as he watched Zenitsu’s shoulders tense, not moving from where he was kneeling on the ground. His sword slips out of his hand and clanks against the floor with a sound that resonates throughout the small room.

Zenitsu inhaled shaky before answering with,

“J-Just polishing my sword. Go back to sleep,” Zenitsu reaches for his sword again, blood dripping down his arm and onto the handle.

“Like hell I’m leaving!” Inosuke said as he marched over to the blonde. Zenitsu, hearing his approach, looked back at Inosuke afraid. He scrambled to grab his sword and tried to pull himself away from Inosuke after he had grabbed him by the shoulders.

“No! Stop, let me go!” Zenitsu shouted as he fought against the other. He knew he’d lose, but he still tried.

He should have heard him coming sooner. But he was so lost in his thoughts that he heard Inosuke approaching his room too late to cover everything. And now he was caught literally red-handed, right in the middle of it.

Zenitsu curled into himself in an attempt to shield his arms from Inosuke and prevent him from taking his sword. He groaned as he fought the other, trying to shake him off with his shoulders. He screamed when Inosuke had grabbed him by one of his wrists and dropped his sword. Inosuke was quick to grab it and froze when he saw the dark, crimson liquid staining his fingers.

Inosuke stared at his hand for a moment before looking up at Zenitsu. He was gently rocking himself while whimpering, clutching the arm Inosuke had roughly grabbed earlier. Inosuke slid the sword across the floor, away from the pair, before reaching out to Zenitsu.

“Zen?” Inosuke questioned, placing his hand on his shoulder. Zenitsu flinched away from his touch.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He shouted, sobbing. Inosuke glanced over the other’s shoulder. His eyes widened as realization washed over him.

Inosuke had a feeling he knew what Zenitsu had been doing as soon as he walked into the room, but he wasn’t sure. Now, he was absolutely positive. Still, that didn’t stop him from asking,

“What did you do to yourself…?”

“I-” Zenitsu mumbled, cutting himself with another sob. Inosuke moved from where he was behind the other and crouched in front of him. He looked down and felt sick at the sight that greeted him.

Numerous cuts, all disgustingly uniformed, littered both of Zenitsu’s arms. Among those fresh cuts were ones that were scabbed over -- most likely being a few days/weeks old -- along with other thin scars that ran up past his robe’s sleeves and higher up his arms. Much of his blood had dripped down to the palms of his hands and stained the sleeves of his orange robe.

Blood was something that normally didn’t phase him. In fact, he enjoyed seeing it when he fought. But the fact that this was a friend’s blood, Zenitsu’s blood, revolted him.

Inosuke reached out his hands, unsure of what to do for a moment, before taking the other’s hands into his own with a surprising amount of gentleness. Inosuke rubbed his palms with his thumbs in an attempt to be comforting, smearing the blood around some in the process.

Zenitsu continued to cry, although he did hold himself back knowing that Tanjiro and Nezuko were currently sleeping somewhere else in the Wisteria house.

“I-I’m sorry,” Zenitsu whispered, rubbing his tears away with one of his bloody hands. “I tried to stop myself, I really did, but I just…I couldn’t…” He covered his mouth with his hands, muffling the next wave of sobs that were sure to come. He cried into his hands, shoulders shaking as Inosuke sat there, still unsure of what to do to help.

After it seemed the worst of it had passed, Inosuke scooted closer to the other and wrapped his arms around him, pressing the other close to him. Zenitsu froze for a moment, mind buffering, before he slowly returned the hug, wrapping his mangled, bloodied arms around Inosuke’s back.

Inosuke grimaced as he felt the warm liquid stain the skin on his back but didn’t say anything about it. He simply held the other in his arms, feeling his warm tears fall on his bare shoulders.

“Why?” Inosuke asked after a minute, “Why the hell would you do this to yourself?” He added harshly, fighting back tears of his own.

“I’m sorry…” Zenitsu whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

That only angered Inosuke.

“Sorry? You’re sorry!?” He shouted, pulling away from the embrace, “I don’t care that you’re sorry; All I want to know is why. Why on the fucking Earth would you do this?” He added, finally letting the tears fall from his eyes.

Normally he hated crying, especially in front of other people, but this time didn’t feel as bad as the others; He didn’t feel ashamed of himself.

Zenitsu cupped his face with his hands before answering him.

“S-Sometimes, I just…I get so overwhelmed. Everything’s just so loud all the time that nothing else helps me.” Zenitsu explained, looking away from the other, “The feeling of my sword cutting through flesh, my flesh, is unbelievably nice. Just listening to the sound of my blood, dripping down my arm and onto the ground, it’s so comforting to me.” He said, smiling to himself while rubbing over the cuts with his fingers.

“I deserve this, all of this. If there’s anyone I hate the most in the world, it’s myself. I’m not one for pain, but the feeling of my blade cutting though my flesh is just-it’s so…” Zenitsu rambled on before being cut off by Inosuke.

“Don’t,” He said, prying the other’s fingers away from the cuts, “Don’t even finish that thought.” He growled, rubbing roughly at his tear stained face.

“Don’t you EVER say that you deserve to be in pain, because you don’t. You deserve nothing but the absolute best from the world, you hear me?” Inosuke said, cupping Zentisu’s blood stained face, “And if you ever need a break from all the noise then come to me, damnit!”

“You’re the exact opposite of quiet,” Zenitsu pointed out.

“Then I’ll be quiet for you! Just-I’ll do anything for you to make sure you don’t do this to yourself again!” Inosuke shouted, hands never leaving the blonde’s face, “Please don’t do this to yourself anymore.” He begged.

Zenitsu looked away, not pulling away from the other’s hold though, and sighed.

“I-I’m gonna be honest, I can’t promise that I won’t again.” Zenitsu admitted, ashamed. Inosuke sneered.

“And why the hell not! Huh?!” Inosuke shouted, shaking the other by his shoulders, “Why is that such a hard thing to ask?! Not to hurt yourself!”

“You wouldn’t understand!” Zenitsu shouted back.

Inosuke really doesn’t understand, but he would still try to for Zenitsu.

“Then explain it to me!” Inosuke rebutted and stopped shaking the blonde. Zenitsu opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to find the perfect words to explain why, but all speech failed him in that moment.

“I…I don’t know,” He choked out, “I don’t know h-how to explain it. This feeling of self destruction is just so…addicting.”

Inosuke bit his lip in anger, tasting his blood on his tongue, before releasing Zenitsu completely. Zenitsu looked at him confused before Inosuke spoke.

“Whatever, just…come with me,” He said, gently but firmly grabbing the blonde’s hand.

“Where’re we going?” Zenitsu asked, following the other.

“Outside. To the stream,” Inosuke said, opening the door to the outdoors.

“But it’s the middle of the night!” Zenitsu shrieked, grabbing onto the door frame to stop their walking. Inosuke looks back at him irritated saying,

“I’m not gonna argue with you on this. Let’s go.”

Zenitsu hesitantly let go of the door frame, glad that none of his blood was left on it, and continued to let himself be led by Inosuke. When they reached the small stream that was next to the Wisteria house Inosuke knelt down in front of it, Zenitsu doing the same.

“Hands,” Inosuke said, holding his hands out at the other. Zenitsu placed his hands in his and Inosuke pulled them down and into the water. Zenitsu hissed at the water making contact with his open cuts, but didn’t say or do anything otherwise. He knew they needed to be cleaned. Zenitsu whimpered as he watched the once clear water turn a light red color around his arms and felt somewhat bad about ruining the water.

“Please tell me when things are getting loud for you,” Inosuke whispered, not looking over at Zenitsu, “I’ll tell the others you have a headache, to quiet down, just-Please come to me instead of doing this to yourself.” He said, squeezing his eyes shut trying to will his tears to stop. It didn’t work.

Zenitsu wanted so badly to reach out and cup his cheek, to wipe his tears aways, but the grip on his hands wasn’t going to let him. He instead opted for rubbing the other’s hands with his thumbs in a way he hoped was comforting.

“I-I’m sorr-” Zenitsu tried to say before being cut off again.

“STOP SAYING THAT!” Inosuke yelled, looking at Zenitsu with puffy, tear stained eyes. These were the same bright green eyes that once held nothing but pure bliss with some anger; Now they seemed almost dull, sorrow and another emotion that wasn’t quite pity being the only things in them.

“Stop apologizing,” He specified, running his hands gently across the delicate skin of Zenitsu’s arms. He winced at the burn it caused, but didn’t do anything to stop him.

He couldn’t help apologizing. Gramps had caught him cutting once when he was still training with him and he had been beaten for it. Zenitsu hadn’t been able to do anything but apologize for what he did, and he was so afraid that Inosuke was going to hit him that he just kept mumbling out apologies, hoping that would soften the punishment.

“Sorry,” Zenitsu said without thinking.

“Shut up,” Inosuke said, continuing to clean his arms, “Don’t say anything else, just listen to me.” Zenitsu stayed silent.

“I’m not good with words, you know this, but I’m gonna try anyways,” Inosuke said. He took a deep breath before continuing,

“I don’t know why you would do this to yourself, but I do know this: You don’t deserve this. Nothing in your life should ever make you feel like hurting yourself, especially like this,” He pulled the blonde’s arms out of the water for emphasis before placing them back in, “I want to be there for you. When you feel like giving up, I want to be the one to encourage you to keep going. I don’t want you to leave me. I want you to learn to love yourself.”

Inosuke swallowed thickly. He released Zenitsu’s hands and lifted his own out of the water, cupping the other’s face with a wet palm.

“I…I love you…” Inosuke confessed, rubbing the blood off of Zenitsu’s cheek with his damp thumb. Zenitsu felt his eyes water as the realization hit him.

For almost a year now, Zenitsu has been trying to pin his feelings for Inosuke. He had been stuck somewhere between admiration, appreciation, and fondness, but none of those quite described how exactly he felt about the other.

Is it love? All this time he spent trying to determine his “complicated” feelings for the dark-haired boy, could it be as simply as love? Did he love Inosuke...?

Yes

Zenitsu lifted his hands out of the water and held Inosuke’s arm with one hand and cupped his face with the other.

“I l-love you too,” He stuttered. Inosuke wasted no time in closing the distance between the two and kissing the other.

Zenitsu had never kissed a boy before. He’d never kissed anybody for that matter. He fantasized about both, but he could have never imagined the bliss that came from Inosuke pressing his warm, chapped lips to his equally as chapped ones. It was almost shocking how such a gentle gesture could come from such a brash person, but Zenitsu wasn’t going to say anything.

This felt so right. The feeling of being this close to Inosuke, pressed into the almost unbearable heat of the other’s body. Zenitsu felt like he was going to cry again.

And he did.

Inosuke held him tighter when he felt the warm tears from the other on his cheek, never pulling away from the other.

Zenitsu’s lips felt awfully cold. Inosuke supposed that was because of the blood loss, and the thought made him feel a little sick.

Inosuke only pulled away from the other when Zenitsu started to pat his chest gently, telling him he couldn’t breath. Inosuke looked into Zenitsu’s eyes, calm copper meeting bright green ones, and smiled a smile that was uncharacteristically gentle.

“You’re beautiful,” Inosuke whispered, running his hand through the other’s thick, blonde hair. Zenitsu’s face burned and he had to look away from the other.

“I’m really not,” He mumbled, “You don’t need to lie to me.”

“When have I ever lied before?” Inosuke asked, tilting the other’s face towards his, forcing the blonde to look at him. Zenitsu remained quiet. He had a point; Inosuke had never lied to him or the others in their little group for that matter.

“You mind getting my back?” Inosuke asked, breaking away from the other’s grasp and pointing to his back. It was only then did Zenitsu notice the patches of dried blood on the other’s back and felt bad about it.

“Yeah, so-” Zenitsu stuttered before being stopped.

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Inosuke said, turning away from the blonde, “Just help me out.”

Zenitsu smiled before dipping his hands in the water and using them to wipe the blood off of Inosuke’s back. Inosuke flinched at the coldness of the water but didn’t do anything to stop the other. After his back was clean, Inosuke shook off some of the water and stood up, stretching. Inosuke grabbed Zenitsu's hand and helped him up, making sure he was steady before leading him back inside.

“Let’s get you covered,” Inosuke said, walking the two back to the room they shared with Tanjiro and Nezuko, “Wait here.” He whispered and silently snuck into the room.

Not even a minute later he returned holding a fresh wrap of bandages along with a small towel and adherent.

“Let’s go, they’re still asleep,” Inosuke whispered while dragging the blonde with him to the room they were previously in. It was a spare guest room that had one futon that was still untouched despite the events that transpired earlier.

As they entered the room, Zenitsu’s eyes couldn’t help but rest on his sword that was discarded off to the side of the door, his blood still staining the handle. He didn’t say anything of it, instead he knelt down in front of Inosuke. Inosuke set down what he was carrying before holding his hand out expectantly. Zenitsu placed his hand in the other’s and allowed his arm to be dried off.

It hurt, of course, yet he didn’t mind the pain this time. The room was completely silent, the only sound being that of Inosuke unraveling the bandages and covering the other’s arms in the soft fabric.

“There,” Inosuke said, pinning the bandages in place and gently patting them, “All better.”

He didn’t feel all better.

Zenitsu rubbed at his eyes tired before shifting to get up.

“Why don’t we just stay here tonight?” Inosuke suggested, grabbing Zenitsu’s hand and pulling him back down. Zenitsu thought about it for a moment before agreeing and settling into the futon with Inosuke for the night.

Inosuke’s body was almost unbearably hot against Zenitsu’s much cooler skin, yet he didn’t want to pull away from the embrace they were sharing under the covers. For once in his life, he felt truly safe, truly loved by another individual.

Zenitsu had spent his whole life being hated by the people around him and, in turn, begun to hate himself. The closest thing to family he had was Gramps, but even that relationship seemed strained at times.

Now he felt nothing but warmth and love for the other slayer whose arms he was tangled in.

Zenitsu was about to fall asleep when he felt a pair of warm lips kiss his forehead and a raspy, yet quiet, voice say,

“I love you…Zenitsu.”

Zenitsu smiled and almost drifted to sleep when the realization hit him. He gasped before sitting up and hitting Inosuke on his upper arm.

“I knew it!” He shouted, face red, “I knew you knew our actual names!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zenitsu and Inosuke woke up the next morning to a knock at the door. The old lady housekeeper told the boys that breakfast was ready for them all. They joined Tanjiro for breakfast.

“There you two are,” Tanjiro said after the pair walked into their shared room, “I got a bit worried when I woke up and you two were gone.”

“Yeah, sorry. Monitsu over here needed some help,” Inosuke said, sitting down with Tanjiro. Zenitsu followed suit.

“What did you need help with?” Tanjiro asked Zenitsu. The blonde looked away, unsure of what to say.

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of him-it.” Inosuke butted in, noticing Zenitsu’s discomfort.

“Alright then,” Tanjiro said, not forcing the question anymore.

The three had a quiet conversation while eating their breakfast. It was surprisingly peaceful, and the conversation was kept light. That is until Tanjiro started smelling something. With a stern look on his face, Tanjiro stared at Zenitsu, making the blonde nervous.

“Zenitsu,” Tanjiro said seriously, “Are you injured?” He asked.

The blonde sweat nervously, fiddling with the end of his sleeve subconsciously. He remained silent.

“I smell blood,” Tanjiro continued, “On you.”

“Ugh, that’s what he needed help with,” Inosuke said quickly, grabbing one of Zenitsu’s arms and holding it up so that Tanjiro could see the bandages. Zenitsu began to panic before Inosuke continued.

“He injured his arm on our last mission and dumbass here didn’t want to admit it,” Inosuke said, ‘annoyed’ before releasing the other’s arm.

“Oh. Why didn’t you just tell us?” Tanjiro asked. Zenitsu picked at the wrappings on the arm Inosuke had lifted up before answering.

“I…I was embarrassed,” He admitted, which wasn’t entirely wrong.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about when you get insured on a mission,” Tanjiro said with a small, soft smile, “It happens to the best of us!” He added with a laugh. Zenitsu smiled at that before beginning to eat, much like Inosuke was doing.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Tanjiro said while taking a quick bite of his tempura. Both Inosuke and Zenitsu looked up at him.

“Did you two spend the night together? Like…together together.” Tanjiro asked. The two tensed up, “I can smell you two on the other.” He explained, pointing his chopsticks back and forth at them.

“I…I-um…” Zenitsu stuttered out, trying to come up with a believable excuse.

“We sure did!” Inosuke said, placing his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out, “And we’re gonna do it again.” He added proudly.

“Oh…” Tanjiro said, somewhat shocked at Inosuke’s bluntness.

“And you know what, Gonpachiro? This little cutie is mine.” Inosuke said, wrapping an arm around Zenitsu’s shoulders and pulling him close to him.

“Ino-” Zenitsu tried to say before being cut off by the warm breath on his neck. He gasped quietly at the feeling and his breathing stuttered for a moment.

“Mhh, all mine,” Inosuke repeated, pressing his face into the back of the blonde’s neck and kissing him there. Zenitsu laughed lightly before cutting himself off.

“INOSUKE!” He shouted, face red.

Zenitsu had never felt more embarrassed, but at the same time, he didn’t want this to end.

#kny #kimestu no yaiba #demon slayer #inosuke x zenitsu #ag #agatsuma zenitsu #hashibira inosuke #tanjirou kamado #nezuko kamado #agatsuma zenitsu x hashibira inosuke #inozen #thewildsophia writes

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generallybarzy · 4 years

Text

1 Year

January 22nd, 2020. That was the date it all started.

Now, it’s been a year.

(Sorry, you don't get a read more, this is too important)

I started this blog last year, after attending a local hockey game that we get to see every year and realizing how much more I was into it than my other friends there. I went home, logged onto my other tumblr account, and started looking through random hockey tags from my [redacted] blog (y'all don't gotta know the fandoms I was into haha). For a week or so, I lurked. I saw bits and pieces of the all star game, of some of the games that were being played, but I was too scared to interact with anyone because I was joining the community so "late". I wasn't late to anything, its not like hockey is a new thing or something with a time limit, but it felt like I was behind. I wasn't a lifelong fan like some people I saw post about it, I didn't even understand what people were talking about. But I saw the game, eventually saw the cute players everyone loves, and got excited. I finally decided to make this blog, wanting to make some new friends in the hockey community. I kinda floated around hockeyblr for a while, rebloggong a few things quietly but not interacting too much because i didn't feel like i could, until my school closed down in March. After that, I turned to writing- specifically for barzy, who I had just learned about on this site. And with that writing, that very first fic that I tagged bigger writers in, trying to get some recognition, I started to gain followers. And friends.

Since i started, my followers on here have traveled with me through life. Literally. I got my drivers license, i embarrassed myself with that guy at the beach, got my first job, started (and hopefully soon finished) my senior year of highschool, and got accepted into my dream college. I didn't have online friends before this, so when I stopped be able to see my irl friends irl, you guys became just as necessary as them. We've been through highs and lows together, both irl, personally, and in this community, but honestly, i still love it here. I couldn’t be more thankful for all of you, the old and the new. I genuinely wouldn’t have been able to get through the past year if it weren’t for this place.

I have a whole appreciation post but some of the people who either ARE constantly in my messages or had been in the past but we haven't talked in a bit, all of these people helped me along the way. @matbaerzal (one of the very first writers who followed me on here, wow. The 10th person out of 1000 to follow me. I adore all of your stuff and look up to you so much) , @mbarzals (I think I convinced you to post your first fic, and I wrote all of Opportunities just for you, but we haven't really talked a lot in a while), @thirteenisles (mom! Helping me out a bunch, especially when I was way smaller on here and didn't have many friends, and we haven't talked in a bit and I'm so sorry), @d-cozens (has always been a solid reader, I remember you under a different user haha I've been seeing you in my notifications for the longest time), @fallinallincurls (we always talk the best concepts!!!!! I always come to you about fics!!!! In the long run, we just started talking a bit ago but you're like the sweetest person ever and I'm so happy we're moots), @softboybarzal (I can't even begin to describe how much you've helped. I'm serious. Thank you so much. Not to mention the amazing things we talk about, always making me so soft), @folkloreflyers (tk and nolan, we have the matching jerseys what can I say. We also come up with some of the best ideas), @barzzal (I deadass look up to you so much, your theme and content is god tier thank you for helping me with my header. I hope we can talk more smt), @dembenchboys (omg baby. Baby. Your messages mean so much to me and I literally light up whenever I see them. We literally don't deserve you. You're too pure and amazing for this world. An angel. I think I've forget to respond to you a few times and I feel so bad but I love you so much don't forget it!!!!!!), @canadianheaters (why do we always have the strangest conversations like idk what here but there's some cursed energy baaagghschhd anyway we come up with the best shit together like monkey suit mat), 🥔 anon, 💙 anon, 😌 anon, 🖤 anon, BLUE SHORTS ANON (I REMEMBER YOU WHERE ARE YOU) and all you other lovely followers i have who have been so supportive over the past year 💕💕💕

Now that all that sappy stuff is out of the way, here's what we'll be doing today to celebrate!

Send in your stories on how you came to find my blog and what made you stay!! Or just any stories you have about here

Request little hcs not about mat and s/o in scenarios but about small things like "does mat like coffee or tea?" or about what cute habits he might have. I feel like we don't discuss about my hc version of him enough

Also, respond to other anons and send your own hcs!!!!

The final thing is that I will be taking requests for short, personalized blurbs where you send me a prompt, a name, and stuff about yourself and I write YOU and mat instead of reader and mat.. I'll make another post about it when I'm ready to do those, probably around 2pm est.

Once again, lemme just drill it into your heads how happy I am to have all you guys, and how proud I am of where this blog has come to in a year. I couldn't have done it without any of you.💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

#the anniversary #op #😌 anon

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lalikaa · 4 years

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“Gravitate”

A fic I wrote for the @yamakagezine years ago and forgot to post, whoops haha. Hope you enjoy!!

~*~

It was a crisp Sunday in March; the kind of day where you’re not sure whether you need a coat or not. The sakura trees had yet to bloom, and the frost of February still lingered. This was one of Tadashi’s favorite times of the year; he liked the chill before everything bloomed.

However, Tadashi was not enjoying the cool weather at the moment, as he was currently inside, piling bread onto a plastic tray.

“It feels like just yesterday we were nervous about our first practice match against Seijou, and here we are,” Tadashi began to lament.

“...We’re in a cafe, Tadashi.”

“You know what I mean!” Tadashi said with a huff. He was almost tempted to say his boyfriend was being snarky, but in reality, it was just Tobio being… Tobio.

When Tobio titled his head to the side slightly in a way that made it look like a giant question mark was floating over his head, Tadashi could not find it in himself to be exasperated.

“Y’know, as in we’re here as third years, about ready to graduate and move on with our lives, that kinda thing.”

The giant question mark dissipated over Tobio’s head (quite a feat, since it was invisible to begin with), but was quickly replaced by an equally invisible exclamation mark.

“I was never nervous about the match against Oik- Seijou,” Tobio retorted to Tadashi’s previous remark.

“Well, you’re never nervous about anything.”

Tobio didn’t respond to this, as they got to the cashier. Tadashi set a chocolate cornet and a red bean roll, which he had gotten for himself, and Tobio’s melon bread and taro bun on the counter while Tobio ordered their usual drinks; a hazelnut latte for Tadashi and a matcha latte for himself.

They scoped out their usual table by the second window to the right, and once they sat down Tobio said; “Well, some things make me nervous.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like… passing tests, not being able to play volleyball, possibilities of injuries… askingyouout.” The last few words were mumbled, but Tadashi caught them anyway,

“Awww, really? Asking me out made you nervous? But you didn’t even-”

“I know I didn’t! Because I was nervous!”

“There was no way you were more nervous than I was! Wait, then is that why Shouyou-”

“Yeah,” Tobio interjected. “Because I couldn’t do it.”

“That-- this makes more sense now. Though, y’know, it’s not like I could’ve either.”

Tadashi unwrapped his cornet and took a bite, now thinking back to when their relationship had begun. If he were being honest, their relationship definitely had an unusual start.

Tadashi was pulled back to almost three years ago, when he’d first joined Karasuno’s volleyball team, to when he’d first met the briskly terrifying force of nature that was Kageyama Tobio.

~*~

Tadashi hadn’t been the only one blown away by Kageyama, but he felt like he was being affected more strongly. His heartbeat skittered whenever he was around him, something that he hadn’t experienced before. At first Tadashi was concerned that perhaps he was showing premature signs for cardiovascular disease, but when he confided this to Tsukki, he’d been met with a scoff and an eyeroll.

“This is why feelings are stupid,” Tsukki had said.

Whatever the hell he’d meant by that.

After a few weeks (and a few hours on WebMD), Tadashi came to the conclusion he wasn’t at risk of heart disease. He poured his anxiety into volleyball, and found relief in striving to be the best player he could be, drawing heavy inspiration from a certain setter.

With every successful jump serve he made, the thought that often crossed his mind was--

I hope he notices.

Months passed though, and Kageyama didn’t seem to pay any more attention to Tadashi than he did anyone else. Tadashi tried not to take it personally.

~*~

“He’s just so cool,” Tadashi said wistfully one day in autumn as he and Hinata sat on the steps outside the gym before practice. Tadashi was eating a convenience store onigiri and sipping apple juice while Hinata was bouncing a volleyball on his arms, focus sharp.

“Yeah, he is, you should ask him out,” Hinata replied, still bouncing the volleyball.

Tadashi promptly spat out his juice. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not? You’re just as cool!”

“I’m… I’m really not. Thanks, though,” Tadashi said sheepishly.

“Why do you think you’re not cool?” Hinata asked, catching the volleyball as he looked at Tadashi.

Tadashi couldn’t find the words to articulate that he felt like he was floating in space when he was around Kageyama; he was a scattered meteor, helpless to the gravitational pull of Planet Tobio.

...That sounded kind of odd, but still.

Tadashi sighed. There was no way he could tell Hinata all that, so instead he just said; “I don’t know.”

“Well, I think you’re cool! You work really hard, you know? Plus you’re super nice, even though people wouldn’t think that ‘cause you hang out with Tsukishima so much.”

Tadashi snickered. Hinata just said whatever was on his mind.

Maybe he should, too.

~*~

About a week after Shouyou had suggested that Yamaguchi should ask Kageyama out, he found none other than Kageyama by his side as they were cleaning up after practice. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had finished folding the nets early, leaving Hinata and Kageyama to sweep the floors. “I feel… weird,” Tobio started, which made Shouyou jump a little because Kageyama hardly ever initiated the conversation.

“You’re always weird, Bakayama-kun,” Shouyou replied.

When no volleyball came hurtling at his head in response, Shouyou knew something was wrong.

“I think I like someone as much as I like volleyball,” Kageyama muttered.

Shouyou stopped mid-sweep.

Kageyama? Talking about his feelings?

This had to be serious.

“So… who’s your someone?”

“No one,” Kageyama said, immediately backing out.

“It’s gotta be someone,” Shouyou insisted, trying not to bounce in excitement.

“Nevermind,” Kageyama grumbled.

“Is it me?” Shouyou teased. “Kageyama, please, I’m too dedicated to volleyball to be in a relationship.”

“It’s not you!” Kageyama snapped.

“Ouch,” Shouyou said, pretending to be hurt.

Then, it came to him.

“Is it Yamaguchi?”

“No,” Kageyama said too quickly, turning bright red.

Aha.

Now Shouyou just had to find the right time to ask.

~*~

The right time came a couple months later, after the intense training camp hosted at Shiratorizawa. Hinata and Yamaguchi were eating lunch together at Hinata’s desk while Tsukshima was listening to music in his and Yamaguchi’s classroom. Meanwhile, Yachi was tutoring Kageyama in her classroom.

“So how was the training camp, Hinata? Tsukki said it was lame and that you were annoying.”

“Ugh, not as annoying as he is! He put in such minimal effort, you wouldn’t believe-”

“I think I get the idea.” Yamaguchi laughed.

“Anyway! Are you free this Saturday afternoon after practice?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Awesome! You’re gonna go on a date with Kageyama at Aki Cafe in Sendai! I booked your train tickets already, you’re welcome!”

“Oh ok, thanks-- wait, WHAT.”

Shouyou grinned as Yamaguchi proceeded to panic, giving himself a mental pat on the back. Man, was he the most awesome friend, or what!

On the day of the date, Tadashi had to remind himself that ‘this is fine’ approximately 19 billion times.

But what if Kageyama didn’t actually like him? I mean, why would he? What the hell had Hinata been thinking?!

~*~

The train ride was as awkward as he’d expected, honestly. Kageyama wasn’t the most social of butterflies, but as soon as Tadashi brought up their latest practice match against Datekou, one thing led to another and soon they were talking about various ways they could demolish Datekou’s Iron Wall. Tadashi loved when Kageyama talked about volleyball; he was so passionate. Tadashi envied him a little, as he felt as though his passion for anything could never match Kageyama’s. It was just another aspect of him that drew Tadashi in.

Tobio was surprised at how easily he could talk to Yamaguchi. He was used to people not wanting to talk to him, ever, so this was an unusual, but appreciated, change of pace.

The train bumped along as they traveled towards their destination. Tobio didn’t have the faintest clue why Hinata had bought them both train tickets and given instructions on getting to a particular cafe, and he had definitely considered declining when Hinata brought it up… until Hinata mentioned that his travel partner would be Yamaguchi.

Partner was a word reserved for someone you could completely trust, and Kageyama hadn’t felt a true connection like that until he’d met Hinata. But then, how he felt about Hinata was vastly different from how he felt about Yamaguchi. While he wanted Hinata to spike his tosses, he wanted Yamaguchi to hold his hand... or something. It was weird.

They got lost on their way to the cafe Hinata had suggested. “We could just go to another one,” Tobio said as they took what was likely their eighth wrong turn.

“But Hinata went through all the trouble of finding one, so we should go!” Yamaguchi insisted.

Tobio shrugged. As long as he was home in time for his 8 o’clock run he was fine. It was only 1 o’clock now, so he should be good. He tried not to think about spending seven hours with Yamaguchi. Surely it wouldn’t be that long…? If it was, Tobio was in trouble. He might get the urge to do something drastically romantic, like pat Yamaguchi on the shoulder.

Tobio snapped out of his thoughts when Yamaguchi said suddenly; “Oh, here it is!”

Aki Cafe was a small building, nestled between a hair salon and an ice cream parlor. The two walked in and were greeted by the smell of cinnamon, vanilla, coffee, and at least nine other different scents. They studied the menu together in silence, then picked up their bread and made their order; they each got savory crepes.

As they waited on their food at a table by the second window to the right, they fell into awkward silence. The waitress brought them a pitcher of water and glasses, which was a welcome distraction. They both then sipped their water, with Tobio doing his best not to stare too much. He’d never realized how many freckles Yamaguchi had. They were kind of cool. Tobio began to wonder how many there were and oh god what was wrong with him?

Thankfully, Yamaguchi broke the silence by bringing up a homework assignment that he’d recently struggled on, and they came to an agreement that math was indeed the Worst, and should be banned from school. The waitress came with their crepes. They thanked her, and began to eat.

~*~

Think of something else to say, think of something else to say oh my god why are you so awkward this is why no one really ever wants to hang out with you, you don’t deserve-

“You’ve- you’ve gotten really good at jump float serves,” Kageyama said abruptly.

Tadashi tried not to gape at him. Kageyama, the king of serves, was complimenting him on his serves!? No way.

“Uh, thank you,” Tadashi said. He was still pretty bad at taking compliments. “You’re really amazing at serves too!”

Kageyama seemed to be just as bad at taking compliments, but not in an awkward way like Tadashi—more in a blunt, yet endearing sort of way. “I still have a lot to improve on,” he said seriously.

“Me too,” Tadashi said. “Maybe you could- maybe you could help me practice sometime?” He winced, fully expecting Kageyama to decline. “Yeah, sure,” Kageyama said.

Tadashi suddenly felt overwhelmed. Because extra practice with Kageyama obviously meant spending more time with him, which meant that Tadashi’s life would become far more complicated. He wasn’t sure how much his heart - and his nerves - could take.

“I’d really like that!” Tadashi responded, a little too loudly. “Me, too,” Kageyama said, giving a rare smile.

To Tadashi, it felt special, somehow. Kageyama was smiling because of him, and only to him- it felt intimate in a way. Tadashi grinned back, feeling his heartstrings loosen and his nerves settle down. Maybe he could handle more time with Kageyama after all.

~*~

After they finished their crepes, Tobio suggested getting ice cream at the parlor next door. He was still hungry, and anything milk-based was always a good thing. The parlor was really cool—various pictures hung on the walls, and the shiny tiled floor made it look like the shop was brand new. The counter had a large display of at least 30 flavors of ice cream on display behind clear glass. The signs above the counter showed that the parlor also served soft serve, sundaes, and milkshakes. The friendly worker greeted them, and after some deliberation, both boys decided on milkshakes- chocolate for Tobio, strawberry for Yamaguchi.

They found a table near the corner of the parlor, milkshakes in hand. As they sipped their milkshakes, Tobio couldn’t help but think; God, he’s pretty.

Was “pretty” the right word, though? Maybe it should be handsome. Either way, Tobio wanted to look at Yamaguchi more than he looked at a volleyball.

Something was really wrong with him.

Yamaguchi was cool in a lot of ways, so maybe his line of thinking was acceptable then…? In all honesty, Tobio had no clue. He was already subpar at best with friendships, never mind actual romantic relationships.

He hadn’t even considered being in a relationship like that until, well… when had he considered it first? Maybe when Yamaguchi made his first successful jump float serve in practice?

He didn’t know for sure, but he was certainly happy to be where he was now. Yamaguchi looked a little anxious, but Tobio couldn’t be sure. He gave a small, nervous smile, in hopes it would… do something. Maybe he was reading the situation wrong…?

When Yamaguchi smiled back, though, he felt his heartbeat quicken, like he’d just run several sprints. Tobio wasn’t sure if he would get used to this feeling, but his instincts told him it was a feeling that would last.

~*~

Tobio and Tadashi finished their bread at Aki Cafe, a sense of nostalgia still hovering between them. Tadashi thought maybe they were too young to feel nostalgic about a relationship that was only a little over two years, but the pull he felt on his heartstrings and the maybe-maybe-not tear in his eye felt differently. Tadashi tried to think of something to say as they started walking out of the cafe. This time, though, it was Tobio who initiated their conversation.

“It’ll be… hard not seeing you every day,” Tobio admitted.

“Nothing is ever hard for you, Tobio,” Tadashi assured him.

“Except for not seeing you every day.”

Tadashi really loved how straightforward Tobio was. He never left Tadashi guessing; he was always honest.

The sun started setting as they meandered along the sidewalks of Sendai, glowing red-orange in the cloudless sky.

“I promise to come to all of your matches,” Tadashi said as they turned a street corner.

“I’d rather you promise to play.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’ll see you on the court, then,” Tobio said firmly.

It was comforting how much Tobio believed in him. So, Tadashi responded by laughing as he took Tobio’s hand, the two walking side by side, with no real destination in mind in the two hours they had before their train home. It really didn’t matter where they went though; they would always gravitate back to each other in the end.

#yamaguchi tadashi #kageyama tobio #yamakage #haikyuu!!#lali writes

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thepandapopo · 4 years

Text

His Star - Chapter 2: Proposals

Can I get this out before midnight? who knows. But I’m determined to at least bang this chapter out in one sitting because it was Claude’s birthday yesterday damn it and I told myself that for his birthday, I would post at least 2 chapters to this fic, bake him a cake, and have a perfect tea time with myself.

So far everything has been accomplished except for the second chapter. so HERE WE GO.

Pairing: Claude x F!Byleth

In which Claude proposes a vacation to Byleth which may or may not be stress free, and may or may not include going back to Almyra with him so that he can court her properly.

The one where Claude schemes to take his star home so that he can finally get started on his plans to make an honest woman out of her... and also get his parents off his back.

Chapter List

1 / 2 / 2.5

Masterlist

If you would like to be added to a tag list whenever I update, please let me know!

XxXxXxXxX

Of all the things Claude expected to come back to, Byleth falling off a cliff was not one of them.

In fact, after the first time he watched her fall off a cliff following the Battle of Garreg Mach, he never wanted to see it ever again. So when he was faced with his greatest fear for the second time - no no no, she couldn’t leave him again - he had not hesitated to throw caution to the wind and abandon his position at the head of his army. He had dug his heels into Zahra’s flank and as always, the white wyvern was on the same page as her master, flying faster than she had ever flown before towards the falling queen.

Claude was used to any physical contact with Byleth feeling electric, like little shocks of pleasure shooting from his nerves and sending shivers down his spine, but when he caught her in his arms, he was alarmed by how hot her skin felt even through the thick leather of his gloves.

It was clear that Byleth was ill. Extremely ill. And yet she pushed herself to her very limits, standing at the front lines with her soldiers to show them that no matter what, she was with them because she believed in a world of peace.

She believed in his dream.

Suddenly, the fear that gripped his heart mere moments ago gives way to a fiery hot rage that burns through his body.

Byleth has done enough for Fodlan. She has fought countless battles, pushed her body to the very limits, and even carried the burden of having the powers of a goddess (”Teach, you’re joking, right? What do you mean you can turn back time?” “It is exactly what I said, Claude.”).

And now these stragglers and remnants of the Imperial army and Those Who Slither in the Dark come once more to try and revive their warped plans?

There are many things that Byleth deserves, Claude thinks, and being able to lay in bed recovering from a cold without worrying about crazy delusional dark mages is probably near the top of that list.

So when the newly crowned King finally makes it to Marianne and entrusts his secret fiance to her care, he no longer has his usual mask of cheerful indifference. Instead, storm clouds roil and darken his visage, verdant eyes sharp and blazing with cold, calculating determination.

Claude doesn’t remember how many enemies he shoots down that day. But he does know that it isn’t enough to quell the fury that simmers beneath his skin.

----

It is four days after the battle before Byleth finally regains consciousness.

Much to his chagrin, Claude is not there by her side when she rejoins the land of the conscious. In the aftermath of the battle, he resolves to step up and help Byleth with some of her duties while she is recovering. Which is exactly how Claude has found himself in the middle of a dreadfully exasperating conversation with Count Gloucester going over resource allocation for the umpteenth time. Thankfully, the servant chooses this time to burst through the door with the news.

“Your majesty!! She’s awake!”

The words are barely registering in his brain before he is moving, hastily throwing half-hearted apologies towards the clearly disgruntled Count, and rushing out the door.

He makes it to her room in record time. And he knows this because he has timed how long it takes to get to her room from any location in the castle, just in case he needs to get to her quickly.

Sitting upright against a mountain of pillows and bathed in the sunlight from the open terrace doors, Byleth is a vision for sore eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak and cannot help but slip back into the playful banter that he is so used to.

“Teach, we really gotta talk about you and cliffs. I don’t think it’s working out in your favor.”

Claude distantly wonders if maybe he should have said something more romantic, or even just a simply inquiry about her health, but those options don’t sit right with him.

She loves him for who he is, and that includes his old habits and light quips.

She is staring at him like he is a ghost, and really, he cannot blame her. The bed sinks a little with his weight and he reaches out to brush a stray lock of mint so that he can see those beautiful eyes that he missed so dearly.

It has been a long six and a half months since he left her at the top of the Goddess Tower. Probably even more shocking yet, he has since ascended the Almyran throne and that feat itself is quite evident from the brightly coloured and extravagant robes that he now dons on a daily basis.

“What’s the matter, Teach? Cat got your- oof!”

She crashes into him without warning and he is immediately reminded of how solidly built she actually is. Byleth is a fighter first and foremost, after all. Claude should have known that a few months behind a desk tending to paperwork wouldn’t have been enough to deteriorate the wall of lean muscle she has built over years of mercenary work.

“I... You... you’re really here?”

Oh, Goddess. He has missed her voice.

His arms snake around her, one coming to a rest across her lower back, pulling her smaller form closer to him as the other hand snakes its way into her hair.

Lips against her temple, he gifts her with a gentle kiss before humming his reply against her skin.

“I am, my love. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

Neither of them can bring themselves to separate, not when this moment feels so much like a dream that could dissolve at any second. Instead, they trade quiet whispers of affection that do not even come close to reflecting the longing and yearning they have experienced since they parted ways.

The sun is beginning to fall below the horizon by the time they manage to pull apart for longer than a heartbeat. Byleth has long since scooted over and pulled Claude under the covers so that they can lay side by side rather than perched uncomfortably at the edge of her bed.

He lets out a pleasant hum when her fingers begin carding through his hair, slender fingers parting his thick brown hair and smoothing it down the back of his head.

“So...”

He knows that tone. He’s been on the receiving end of it multiple times, mostly back in his schooldays when she catches him red handed with a vial of his latest experiment uncorked and ready to pour into someone’s meal.

“King now, is it?”

“Er... yeah.” He ignores the urge to scratch his neck sheepishly and opts to bury his face in her shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of blade oil and jasmine that is unique to Byleth.

“King Khalid.”

Ah crap.

He lifts his sheepish expression to meet her narrowed eyes, “By, you have to believe me when I say I was going to tell you. But I had to sort a lot of things out first.”

He brings their hands up under the fading sunlight and verdant eyes shift to look at their intertwined fingers.“You know already that I am part Almyran. And I told you before I left that I had some...royal connections -”

“I believe you described them as ‘insignificant’.” As usual, her memory and mind are as sharp as her sword and he knows that he cannot weasel his way out of this situation.

“Haha... did I say that? I mean, even though technically I was the crown Prince, it’s not like I was guaranteed the throne. Almyrian traditions are a bit different than here in Fodlan.”

He’s half expecting her to throw another quip back at him about another one of the ways he’s botched this whole thing up, but to his surprise, she merely stares at him with those unwavering green eyes and nods for him to continue.

It’s now or never. He may not have been able to be completely truthful with her before, but now those obligations and promises that veiled his truths no longer bind him.

So he tells her. He tells her about his mother and how she made him promise to keep his identity a secret. He tells her about his promise to his father that he would return home to put his name in the running for the throne when it was time for his father to step down. He tells her about the fights and trials that he had to go through to beat out all the other contenders to prove his strength and abilities as a leader and King. And finally, he tells her of how he took the title of King of Almyra and how it took several weeks for him to get everything under control, only to get intelligence that Those Who Slither in the Dark were plotting one last stand, and how he barely had time to muster his army and march at full speed to make it to her side in time.

When he is finished, Byleth is silent and for a moment, he fears that perhaps it is all too much for her. There is a nasty voice in his heart of hearts, quiet though it may be, that whispers that maybe she has decided that she no longer wants to be with him because how can she trust a man whose real name she didn’t even know?

When he finally musters enough courage to meet her eyes again, his heart does a funny little flop in his chest and the back of his eyes burn with the familiar sting of tears.

Byleth may not be a woman of many words, but the firm squeeze of his hand and steady, soft gaze says everything he needs to know.

I understand. And I love you.

He wheezes out a chuckle and brings her hand to his lips, kissing the digits almost reverently. “I wanted to tell you before I proposed to you, but I needed to honor the promises I made to Mother and Baba. Trust me when I say the first thing I did when I went home was ask them to relieve me of those burdens.”

“Did...did they ask why?” Her voice is hesitant, even as the question leaves her tongue.

Goddess, just once he would like to be able to pull the wool over her eyes, but as usual, Teach is sharp on the uptake and Claude really cannot get anything by her.

He reaches up to finger the emerald ring hanging from a silver chain around her neck, dragging out the silence as long as possible before giving the answer he knows she is dreading.

“I maaaay have told them that I had a certain special someone in mind that I wanted to introduce them to...” His sentence trails off into laughter as he watches the horror creep into his beloved’s expression.

Byleth Eisner. The Ashen Demon. The first leader of the United Kingdom of Fodlan. The Hero of Fodlan.

Claude finds it hilarious that the woman he loves can carry such daunting titles and face an army head on with no fear, but is absolutely terrified of the idea of meeting her future in-laws.

“Khalid-” he likes the way his real name sounds coming from her lips, even if it is a horrified gasp. “-I can’t. I don’t even know what to do! I’m not a noble and I don’t know anything about etiquette on meeting royalty from a foreign country, much less your parents.”

“Aww, don’t worry Teach! You’ll be perfectly fine, just like when you joined the Alliance Round Table for the first time.” He winks at her, biting his cheek to stop the laughter that is threatening to bubble over.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I also have a country to run. One that you so gladly dumped on my lap before escaping across Fodlan’s Throat.”

She must be desperate now if she is willing to hide behind her duties.

“Not to fret, my dear.” He leans over to place a chaste peck on the tip of her nose, flashing her his signature wink and grin afterwards. “I’ve already cleared it with Seteth. After all, it was the stress from the non stop work that caused you to fall ill in the first place, right? I simply proposed that you could take a month or two off from your duties to relax and recover from your injuries-”

“-I have no injuries-”

“-and maybe come back with me to Almyra for a little vacation.”

While she doesn’t officially reject his proposition, he does receive her reluctant acceptance in the form of several pillows being chucked unceremoniously at his head.

XxXxXxXxX

I’M TERRIBLE AT WRITING ENDINGS. I promise I’ll come back later to fix this one up too.

Hope you all liked chapter 2!!

Note: I did NOT get this out before midnight. It is currently 1:56AM.

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#Claudeleth #claude von riegan #Byleth eisner #claude x byleth #F!byleth #my writing #popo writes #fanfiction #fire emblem #3 houses #fire emblem 3 houses #FE3H #post cannon #Post S rank support

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hrtiu · 4 years

Text

Rexsoka Week Day 2! The prompt is ‘War.’ I guess yesterday’s sad fic got me feeling like some fluff, so I somehow managed to write this from the prompt, haha.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727667

This story is set in the universe of the Rex/Ahsoka series that I wrote, so if you haven't read that series the context is that this story is set around the time of The Mandalorian, Ahsoka has agreed to teach and take care of The Child (who is named Dral), Rex and Ahsoka are married, and Dral used Force healing to de-age Rex.

This Means War

Rex liked to collect things, which was a sweet habit in theory. Ahsoka loved that somebody who’d never really been able to own things for so long now gathered and treasured his possessions like the most precious of metals. The problem was that the things Rex collected were junk. Trash. Garbage. Useless by any reasonable standard.

Normally Ahsoka tolerated the hoarding because she loved Rex and, living on a near-empty planet, it wasn’t as if they were lacking for space. But several days into one of Rex’s week-long treks to a bigger planet for supplies Ahsoka was nearing the end of her rope.

Din was off on a hunt and Rex was away getting supplies, so Ahsoka was left as the sole caretaker for Dral. Dral wasn’t a particularly troublesome child, but all children were full-time projects, and Ahsoka wasn’t used to being the only one around to feed him, bathe him, clothe him, entertain him, teach him, and put him to bed. It was exhausting, and the last thing Ahsoka needed was to be unable to locate Dral’s bath towel in the closet among a literal mountain of Rex’s stuff.

Midway through Ahsoka’s rummaging something fell from one of the top shelves and hit Ahsoka right on the head, drawing several profane curses from her mouth. Looking down to the ground she identified the culprit: a long-since broken beyond repair blaster that Rex kept around for undetermined reasons.

“That’s it!” Ahsoka snarled, and Dral—still stark naked from his bath—stopped running around to turn back and stare at her, huge ears cocked in question.

“I’ve had it with all this junk lying around cluttering up my house! We’re getting rid of it, once and for all.”

Dral let out a concerned coo and Ahsoka snatched him up before he got it into his head to run away again. She towelled him off, dressed him, then marched him over to the closet that held the majority of Rex’s miscellany, setting him down next to her to watch while she sorted through his things.

Ahsoka wasn’t cruel. She knew Rex better than anyone in the galaxy and she didn’t throw anything out that she thought might have sentimental value. Dral still looked up at her with big, judgmental eyes, so she found herself justifying each item she put in the toss pile to him.

“Look, a takeout menu from some probably closed restaurant on Coruscant. What could he possibly do with that?”

“This is a random piece of plastoid he found in the sand once on some desert planet. It looks like clone armor, but he didn’t know who owned it, and it’s not even a full piece of armor! There’s no reason to keep it.”

“Circuits to a burnt-out probe droid.”

“And here? A bag of rocks. Just a bag of completely ordinary rocks.”

The next day Ahsoka gathered up all the things she’d deemed disposable and took them with her speeder to the dump. They lived in a remote part of a remote planet, so the dump that she and her few distant neighbors used was a few hours away, but it would be worth it to declutter the house. When Ahsoka returned, she walked into her home and breathed in deeply, feeling renewed and refreshed. It was like she’d been carrying the weight of that full closet on her shoulders and the weight was finally lifted. Rex would be mad at her at first, but he’d quickly come to appreciate the service she’d done. Force, he might not even notice that some things were missing.

---

Rex came home the next day with meat for the carnivores and some other household goods that were hard to get on Ossus. He noticed.

“Ahsoka, did you see that blaster I bought at that pawn shop last year?” he asked

Ahsoka froze midway through wrestling Dral into his high chair for lunch.

“You mean the broken one that will probably never blast again?”

“Well, that’s one way to describe it. It’s a classic, not produced anymore.”

“...It’s in a better place now.”

Rex returned to the kitchen, his brow furrowed. “What did you do…?”

Ahsoka sighed. She didn’t regret throwing the stuff away, but actually telling Rex about what she’d done was harder. “There’s all this… stuff you always have lying around that you’re never going to do anything with.”

Rex narrowed his eyes at her. “Out with it.”

“I threw it away, OK? I went through that supply closet and anything that didn’t have sentimental value I threw away.”

“How do you know what has sentimental value to me?”

“Really?” Ahsoka said, hand on her hip. “Are you trying to tell me you had an emotional connection to those probe droid circuits?”

“I was going to fix that.”

“You’ve had it for five years, Rex!”

Rex sucked on his teeth and slowly shook his head, a surefire sign that he was angry.

“You know what this means, right?” he said slowly, evenly.

“What?” Ahsoka said cautiously, as the feeling that she would regret what she’d done sunk into her gut.

“This means war.”

---

As far as Ahsoka could tell, Rex wasn’t doing anything differently, and it was driving her crazy. She knew he’d meant business when he’d declared war, and he was certainly shorter and more cool with her than usual, but nothing he did seemed to match those ominous words. It made Ahsoka jumpier than usual, and she went about her normal life for several days in suspense, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

In the meantime, she continued teaching Dral, helping around the house, and maintaining her contacts with the remaining fragments of the Rebellion and the burgeoning New Republic on the off chance she could help out with something. Rex kept up with the housework, took care of Dral, and coordinated with the clone rehabilitation house he’d helped establish on Seelos. Everything continued as normal.

Then she tripped over a pile of her dirty clothes in their room.

Then she couldn’t find a clean cup when she wanted a glass of water.

Then she found melted chocolate rubbed into one of her favorite blankets.

Then she couldn’t clear a space for work on her messy desk.

“Ok,” she said on the third day over dinner. “I get it now. You’re making a mess for me? You want me to live in a rankor pit as punishment?”

Rex looked up from his plate of food with a look of pure innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The clothes. The dishes. My desk. You’re doing it on purpose!”

“I’m not doing anything, Ahsoka.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, but he just picked up his cup of tea and sipped it placidly.

“What do you mean you’re not doing anything? I just told you-”

“I’m not doing anything anymore.”

Ahsoka continued to stare at Rex, then her eyes widened as understanding dawned. “You… you’re saying I’m messy?”

Dral cooed and looked back and forth between them, his eyes wide and curious at the unusual displays of aggression from his caretakers.

“I didn’t say anything. The evidence speaks for itself.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Come on, Ahsoka,” Rex said, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t clean up after yourself. You know that.”

Ahsoka did not know that, and she would not respond to the accusation.

“I’m not blaming you,” Rex continued. “It’s not your fault you grew up in a fancy temple where your quarters were cleaned regularly by somebody else.”

Ahsoka’s jaw dropped. Is this how Rex saw her? “That’s not true and I’ll prove it. Keep not picking up after me and see if I care.”

“I already did that and you did care.”

“Well keep doing it and see. I’ll be just fine,” she said, defiantly picking up her dirty plate and stacking it with Rex’s and Dral’s to take to the sink.

“Hey, I wasn’t done ye-” Rex said, reaching back for his dirty plate.

“Well, you’re done now,” Ahsoka said, shoving the dishes in the sink and turning on the water.

She expected this to be the part where he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, telling her he was done fighting and was sorry, but he didn’t. The chair scraped behind her and Dral’s giggles drifted off down the hallway, and Ahsoka continued washing dishes sulkily.

She hated when she got like this. Over the years Ahsoka had put great effort and intention into tamping down her impetuous, snarky side—the side that had earned her the name ‘Snips.’ Life had become too serious, too tragic for that kind of attitude. She let it come out sometimes still, mostly around Rex, which was part of why she loved him. But she hated when it came out by accident—not because she wanted to relax and be free and easy but because she was feeling petulant and unable to hide it.

Ahsoka finished the last dish and placed it carelessly on the drying rack. She leaned over the sink and sighed. Eventually they’d apologize to each other and this would end, but Rex had declared war, and she wasn’t quite ready to lose yet.

---

Rex and Ahsoka each escalated their war of attrition over the next few days. Rex stopped doing Ahsoka’s laundry and stopped cleaning her study, and Ahsoka found a few items of his each day to put in a box destined for the dump. They spoke to each other rarely, which Ahsoka hated but stuck to stubbornly. She sometimes told Dral about her problems, but he wasn’t the greatest conversationalist, and she missed Rex’s easy company.

On the third day Din returned and Ahsoka was thrilled to finally have another adult to confide in. As soon as he stepped through their front door she was right there with a drink and straw and an invitation to tell her about his hunt. Din seemed confused, but indulged her with a few stories. He politely ignored the messy, chaotic state of her study.

At dinner Ahsoka continued to ask Din about his travels while Rex silently fed Dral. Din tried his best but he’d never been much of a talker, and Ahsoka had resorted to asking him where he refuelled when he held up a hand to stop her.

“Wait up. What’s going on here?”

“What do you mean?” Ahsoka asked innocently.

“Don’t play dumb. What’s up with you two? You’re usually all over each other.”

Rex huffed indignantly and Ahsoka sputtered.

“We’re fine,” Ahsoka said.

“Look, I can’t be the only one either of you gets your social interaction from. Figure this out, alright?” Din said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend my evening with my son who I haven’t seen in weeks.”

With that, Din rose from the table and picked Dral up, who burbled happily in his arms. They headed off in the direction of Din’s room, leaving only Ahsoka and Rex in the kitchen.

Ahsoka looked across the table at Rex and gave him a wry smile. “Well…” she said after some hesitation, “maybe we should negotiate a ceasefire.”

Rex’s shoulders shook with a chuckle and he couldn’t help the slight smile that raised the corner of his mouth. “That’s probably for the best. I’ve been missing you.”

“I’m sorry I threw out your stuff,” Ahsoka blurted out, all the apologies that had built up in her head coming out at once. “I can go back to the dump to get it. It was all in just a few big boxes, and it’s probably still at the top-”

“It’s alright, cyare,” Rex said, walking around the table to Ahsoka and taking her hands in his. “You were right, most of that stuff wasn’t really worth keeping. But… do me a favor and next time you want to clean things out, just ask me which things I want to save first.”

Ahsoka wrapped her arms around Rex and buried her face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, just one more time for good measure.

“All is forgiven. And… I should have been more direct with you, too. It was childish of me to punish you like that,” Rex said into her montrals, stroking a hand down her lek.

Ahsoka sighed in contentment, relieved at finally being back where she was always meant to be. “I hate it when you’re mad at me,” she said, eyes closed.

Rex chuckled and pulled her in tighter. “Doesn’t happen very often.”

“That just makes it even harder when it does. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“We make a good team. And so long as we’re being patient with each other’s… flaws, everything works out.”

“Then I guess I’ll let you keep more stuff in the house and you keep picking up my dirty clothes?”

“Works for me.”

“It feels like I’m getting the better end of that bargain, now that I think about it…” Ahsoka said.

Rex laughed again. “Naw, I’m pretty sure I got a real steal.”

Ahsoka sighed in contentment, basking in the comfort of her husband’s arms. Peacetime was good.

#rexsoka #rexsokaweek #fanfic

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angst-in-space · 4 years

Text

december ‘20 writing progress (and yearly wrap-up)

december progress:

words written: 15.2k

yearly total: 248.8k

projects worked on:

- sylvix dreamscape fic - edited/posted the sylvix xmas fic, “where the love light gleams” - finished writing the altea rising recap - worked on a couple secret projects

december goals: - reach my yearly goal of writing 250k words....*sweats* (ok i didn’t quite get there but i’ll give myself credit cuz i was only like 200 words off) - finish/submit final draft of piece for long live zine - finish editing and publish the sylvix xmas fic! - finish/publish [redacted] and [redacted] - work some more on the sylvix dreamscape fic - finish the altea rising recap summary (and....maybe work a little on chapter 19 if i have time)

notes:

well, december was....a very busy month. had kind of a hellish start to the month what with a health-related thing (not covid, don’t worry i’m fine dkfjdl) so that kinda sapped my energy for about a week. then ofc there was the holidays and everything. aaand on top of that i had like four writing deadlines (although like....two of them were postponed so that was good haha).

but anyway! i did at least manage to finish a couple of things––mainly my sylvix christmas fic (“where the love light gleams”), finishing/submitting my “long live” zine piece, FINALLY finishing the altea rising recap summary ... and also finishing one secret thing that is not published yet, but it’s for a fandom i’ve never written before and i’ll be very excited to publish it once i can!

other than that, i mostly worked on the sylvix dreamscape fic and on a secret santa exchange fic that i still have not finished (we extended the deadline to end of january bc like...no one in the group had finished by end of december lol).

i didn’t quite reach my goal of 250k words for the year, but i mean my initial goal was 150k and i only ended up being about 200 words shy of 250k SO i still think that’s a big win lol.

as for what i’ll be working on next: top priority is finishing the secret santa fic. but i also hope to keep working on the sylvix dreamscape fic. aaand hoping to edit/publish the klance hotel au by the end of january maybe, since uh i finished a draft of it in november and STILL have not finished editing that so OOPS. and mayyybe will finally delve into finishing the last few chapters of altea rising, and maybe at least start editing chapter 15 but that’s pretty optimistic of me lmao.

2020 wrap up:

total words written: 248.8k most words written in a month: 50.1k (november) least words written in a month: 14.1k (march)

works completed:

- want your fire on me - i know a place we can run - illumination - cover my skin with your sunkissed light - where the love light gleams - klance hotel au (not published yet) - [secret project] (not published yet) - miles to go (my zine piece for “long live”, not published yet) other wips: - sylvix dreamscape fic - altea rising - secret santa fic - planning my wlw YA sci-fi novel

2020 goals:

- write every day - write at least 150k words - focus more on my multichaps - finish altea rising - finish a couple of my kl standalone fics?? not sure which ones yet, but yeah! - finish galolio fic - write burning hearts piece - work on wangxian fic w jessie! - maybe start writing something original??

notes:

all in all, a very productive year! there were some yearly goals i did not reach (i.e. finishing my old klance multichaps.....rip) but i mean, i also ended up getting involved in (and writing fic for) several other fandoms, so i couldn’t really have anticipated that at the beginning of the year. i’m really happy with the two sylvix fics i’ve published so far, and i hope to write a lot more for them this year!

so yeah... i have a few big projects i want to tackle in 2021. firstly the sylvix dreamscape fic is...already over 30k and i’m estimating it’ll probably end up being a total of somewhere around 50k-60k so uh yeah that’s gonna be a big commitment lol. but i think i’m gonna do the same thing i did with “cover my skin...” and make it a chaptered fic. not sure when i will start posting it but i’m hoping ideally sometime in like late february or early march, depending on a few things.

i have a few other sylvix fics i also hope to at least start writing sometime this year. one in particular i have had fully planned out for months but ironically have not started it yet even though it was the first sylvix fic idea i came up with... but yeah i might start that one after the dreamscape fic is done. i also have a couple aus that i might tackle, but they both need a lot more fleshing out before i even begin writing them so hmm we shall see.

besides that... i do really honestly want to finish my klance multichaps even tho it’s been...over a year since i updated either of them and idk if anyone even gives a shit anymore but i’m a completionist at heart and just wanna see them through sooo yEAH. i have at least finished writing up a (very long) summary of everything i’ve written of altea rising so far, mostly to recap myself to make sure i tie up all the loose ends in the last few chapters. i did work a bit on actually writing it in 2020 although tbh i like kinda fell off the rails once i fell into fe3h/sylvix hell BUT i still intend to get back to it because i do still have a soft spot for it and want to finish it. and long story short, i’ve decided to divide up what i’ve written of the last part into like...5-ish chapters so yeah, hopefully i can start posting those at some point in the near future. ....and uhh i don’t think i worked on red skies at all in 2020 which makes me sad bc i still love that fic dearly and want to complete it as well, it just may take me a few months to get back to it but hey if i’m able to update it at all in 2021 that would be great haha. another thing i’m hoping is to possibly open commissions in 2021, something i said i would do in 2020 and never did but....kinda wanna give it a try, especially because i am funemployed once again. :’) AND LASTLY...i’ve been planning an original wlw YA sci-fi novel for like two years and i would really love to start at least the first draft of it this year....that would be neat.

so yeah this post is starting to get insanely long but i’ll just wrap up with my 2021 goals and january goals, and...yeah. 2020 sure was a weird year, here’s hoping 2021 is (at least..slightly...??) better.

2021 goals: - write every day - write at least 150k words - finish the sylvix dreamscape fic - start on like 1 or 2 other sylvix multichaps...? - finish altea rising - work on red skies again - do some fic commissions - continue planning my novel and maybe start the first draft january goals: - finish secret santa fic - publish [redacted] - work on sylvix dreamscape fic - edit klance hotel au (hopefully send to betas by end of month at least?) - maybe work on altea rising ch. 19

#brigidposts #writing updates #monthly writing progress 2020 #fanfic #text #long post

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aewriting · 4 years

Note

1, 17, 18 for the meme!

Thanks for the asks

1. Favorite fic you wrote this year: I am really proud of all of the fic I wrote this year! Maybe because I just wrapped it up, “Throw Cares Away” is really fresh in my mind, though I really am proud of ALL of my fics from this year. It was a long year!

17. Fics you’ll continue next year: Real talk here – this is going to be tough. Due to some of the unique challenges real life has posed this year, it has been hard to find time and energy to write. I am actually really proud of some of the changes I’ve made in my real life to support my own self-care, so I can really show up and do some of the hard, nonpreferred work that I must do right now (my life has changed a LOT since March of 2020). But those changes (being more physically active, meditating, writing in a journal, cooking healthy food, maintaining a relatively clean and orderly home environment, prioritizing rest, virtual therapy) take up time that I was otherwise spending on fandom-related activities. I have diversified my creativity more this year – not just creative writing, but also journaling, drawing, cooking. I was also able to be more politically active and involved this year than ever before. Honestly, this year I have been really focused on radical acceptance, and part of that is accepting that I may always need to do some more self-care and reflective work than others, and also that, as healthy and enjoyable as certain activities are (including fandom involvement and creative writing!) I can sometimes over-focus on any of my preferred activities to the point of distraction. One of the most impactful books I read this year was “Burnout” by Emily and Amelia Nagoski. It’s well-researched and taught me a lot about how to truly complete a stress cycle. Looking back at 2019, I see that I was almost completely relying on creative writing to help me complete my stress cycle, and in 2020 I have really worked to give myself other ways to do that in addition to just writing.

I know this was a long introduction to this question, but, as was the case the past few months, I think my fandom involvement will be on the light side moving forward into 2021. The two fics I would LOVE to finish are “Vague Space” and “Loathly.” They are quite close to being done. That being said, these are strange times, and I’m putting no pressure on myself to get them done. I’d also love to complete the “Battle Tested” AU.

18. Current number of WIPs: Ohhhh boy, haha. Let’s see… there’s

“Morning After” (which I probably will not be adding to, given some of the issues I have with Noah as villain. I feel like the only way to complete it takes it to some pretty murky places, which I no longer really care to explore with Noah as villain).

Vague Space

Daddy Gave Me a Name

You Can’t Jump the Track

Loathly

Help! I Need Somebody

Battle Tested

My “Las Vegas” AU in which Jesse runs Michael out of town

My Noir AU in which Alex is a police detective and Michael is a PI

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syndianites · 4 years

Text

The After; The Athar: Chapter Four

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 [Here] - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan’s house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: It’s Wednesday, totallyyyyyy. Just a little late haha, but here it is! Chapters 1-4 already written out. That means I actually need to finish chapter 5 and continue onward. I mentioned this before, but I’d been sitting on this since September of last year, and had chapter 4 done in... December? Of last year.

——————————————————————————————

“So, did you actually come to talk, or did you need something from me?” Jordan was looking towards the town now, legs crossed. With his arms splayed across the back of the couch, chin up, he looked like the perfect picture of nonchalance.

Wag knew that that was far from correct.

However, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, drawing Jordan’s eye. “Well, I did actually come to see if you knew where Martha was, and if not Martha, Spark.”

Jordan gave him a thoughtful frown.

“Not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” Wag added in, “It’s just that I really need to see Martha. Rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I’m, uh. Breaking up with her.”

Jordan’s face crumpled into a harsh discomfort, like someone had just doused his socks in water and told him all his other socks were missing.

“Ah. That’s. Unfortunate?” He winces. “I’m sorry about your loss. Eventual loss. Yeah.”

Wag shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “She’s not dying, Jordan. I just realised that we- well, it didn’t matter what I realised. We’re better as just friends, if she’s okay with that.”

Jordan nodded, lips pinched together. “I’m afraid I don’t recall where she was going today. Spark, however, should be at Town Hall handling some paperwork. She might be with him, might not. I’d ask him.”

Getting up with a stretch, Wag replied, “Thanks. The faster I do this the better.”

Jordan stood as well, following Wag to the front door. They stood there. Wag shuffled his feet. “I, uh. I’m not sure where the Town Hall is. Could you show me?”

He had a fair idea, but not a sure one. The Town Hall was a building Wag often forgot about. But not because he didn't care to commit it to memory.

To start, it looked like all the other buildings around it. Acacia based, a foundation of sandstone that peaked up from below the ground, and an easy, sloped thatch roof. It gave the buildings a log cabin feel, while still fitting in with the landscape. The edges were built with acacia logs to bring in a nice neutral gray which held it all together.

Now, if it just looked like every other building that’d be fine. But it also had no marker to identify it as Town Hall. Or, rather, the marker it had was easily mistaken for something else- an open book with a quill. For example, it could be the symbol for a courthouse, or the symbol for a law firm. Or the Records Hall.

Wag didn’t know where the Records Hall was either.

Add in the fact that no one really went in there since the majority of citizens specialized in fishing and you have a place that is forgettable at best.

That being said, Wag would rather have some company on his death march to breaking up with Martha. Using his unsureness of where, exactly, the Town Hall was would be a good excuse to keep talking to Jordan. At the least, it would help with his nerves.

Jordan looked off to the side. “Isn’t it right next to-” He cut off. Thought for a second. “Yeah, it’d be better to just show you.”

Wag smiled. He swept his hand towards the path and gave Jordan a shallow bow. “After you, my dear.”

Shaking his head, Jordan began to lead the way, Wag trailing along just behind his shoulder.

They descended the hill in comfortable silence. Jordan was clearly thinking about something, looking for a good moment to bring it up. Wag welcomed the change from thinking about his future.

He side-eyed him. “Got something on your mind, my good fellow? Want to talk more about how the world has it out for us?”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “No, I think that’s enough of that depressing topic for now.” A beat of silence. “I was just thinking-”

“You’ve got to be careful with that.”

“-Thinking about Tom.”

Wag gasped. “Thinking about another man while we take such a romantic stroll together? How dare you.”

“Yes, walking over to the Town Hall so you can talk to the man who looks like an older version of me and has a superiority complex is so romantic” Jordan wrinkled his nose. It’s not like he’d know much about romantic. Between Jordan and anyone else that was ever interested in him, the other had done more work. Jordan’s idea of romance was probably ‘let’s build some complex contraption together’.

“We could always detour,” Wag suggested, lightly elbowing Jordan’s arm. “Take it across the beach, pick up shells that we’d think the other would like, hold hands and go barefoot to walk in the waves. Call it a date.”

“I beach you it’d be a good time, but I’ll have to wave the idea off. I do have things I want to get done today.” Jordan turned to him with a glimmer in his eyes and a bashful, yet impish smile.

“Wow.” Wag blinked a few times. “That was forced and you know it. ‘I beach you’?” He fake gagged. “So cheesy.”

Jordan turned away with a huff.

Wait.

“Oh, my gosh, wave was also a pun. That was a double pun. I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.”

“Thank you, I’ll be taking cash donations for my genius.”

“I’ll be taking cash compensation for having to hear that with my own two ears.”

Jordan laughed, a lovely, quiet sound. It was breathy, and just off of squeaky, but it made Wag’s ears burn.

Weird.

“I’m afraid,” Jordan followed up, “That we have a no refund policy. Once heard you can’t get your investment back. It was on page 8 of the contract you signed upon meeting me: ‘You accept any and all amazing, lovely puns that come out of Jordan’s mouth.’”

“Wow. 8 pages? I don’t remember 8 pages. What I remember was, ‘Hello, I am most likely going to be inside, at home, for most of our friendship. And this is to say I’m not avoiding you, I’m preparing the most intricate, strong things imaginable for when shit inevitably goes to hell.’ That’s not even a page, it was a sheet of paper torn in half.” Was that overly accurate about Jordan? No. But the dig was worth it.

Jordan shook his head, indignant, “I don’t stay inside that much! How dare you assume I’d be able to stay cooped up inside for so long. Clearly, if you wanted to be precise, I would have written ‘I’ll most likely be working on cool and awesome things that make me super prepared to help My Lady in any way possible.’ Inside versus outside means nothing in that regard.”

“Ah, my bad. Let me rephrase that, ‘I am so loyal to Ianite and her existence that I will breathe balance, eat balance, and become balance. People will look at me and think ‘Wow, that guy sure is the epitome of balance. Almost enough to rival Ianite herself.’, except I’ll just look cool and be a good champion.”

“Ok, ok, let’s back up here.” Jordan turned to look at Wag. To look up at Wag, more specifically. Shorty. “Going that far makes me sound like Spark, and I am nowhere near as bad as him. Like, c’mon, he was so dedicated to Ianite he married her.”

They were in front of the Town Hall now.

Jordan lowered his voice, like Spark could hear him. “He honestly needs a hobby.”

Wag shook his head, stifling a laugh.

“Well,” Jordan’s voice rose back to a regular volume. “Looks like we’re here.”

“Looks so.”

They stalled for a second.

“I better get going,” Jordan started. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll help you with anything.” He side-eyed Wag, a joking look in his eye. “As long as it’s reasonable.”

“That means a lot to me.” Wag smiled. “I promise that my next visit will actually be for you. It’s only fair, especially since you’re a dear friend of mine.”

With a huff and a returned smile, Jordan pushed him along. “You don’t have to promise that.”

“I want to. Since it’s you.”

Wag turned and began walking up the steps into the building.

Jordan felt his heart beat just a little faster. He tried to convince himself that that didn’t mean as much to him as his heart said.

It really wasn’t that deep.

---

The Town Hall was one of the first non-residential buildings placed in the town. In the time that they’d all been gone, there had been some remodelling to the valley.

The first, most prominent, in Wag’s opinion, change was the removal of the Dianite statue head thing. If it was still there, Wag would not have built his tower right next to that. No siree.

The rest of the changes were fairly mild: the paths around were fiddled with to give access to the beach and town buildings, the farms were cleaned up, and so on.

Now, the Town Hall was delicately placed between the farms and the Tea Pot. The Tea Pot which was left standing. In all the revisions that were made to the land, someone looked at the Tea Pot, looked at the space it took up, and decided it should remain.

There was a goddamn Tea Pot next to Town Hall.

And Wag still struggled to remember where the Town Hall was.

Needless to say, Wag head inside, giving a wave to the secretary. While there was no official “Mayor” of the town, there was a general administrative body made up of some of the townsfolk. It was a democratic setup, which leaned towards a more free-market, socialist style of living.

Quite the turn around from Ruxomar.

Spark, it seemed, had either learned from the eventual disaster that was Ruxomar- not that he was there to see its final collapse- or wanted a change of pace, seeing as he founded Dagrun under a monarchy. To be fair, there weren’t many people around to start a kingdom.

After Wag exchanged conversation with the secretary and was waved towards the back, he found Spark. His office was small with a full window alongside one wall and a desk with neatly organized papers set up in multiple stacks. He sat behind the desk, pondering over a sheet laid before him, reading it with careful eyes.

He looked up at Wag’s entrance, a polite smile forming on his face. “What brings my daughter’s favorite wizard around today?” Spark stood, moving around the desk to offer a handshake in greeting.

“Oh, only Martha’s? Not yours?” He took the hand, trying to give a firm shake despite his nerves. “I came here to see if you knew of Martha’s whereabouts. I have something I need to talk to her about.”

Spark took a step back. “Ah, she just stepped out to grab some records from the Record Hall. She’ll be a few minutes at least.” He moved back to his desk, motioning for Wag to sit in one of the guest chairs.

Wag sank into it quickly.

If Spark could see he was nervous, he said nothing. But Wag was sure it radiated off of him, from the way his fingers drummed against his legs, to how he would look at the door every so often, to how he kept shifting in his chair. He’d thought the walk and quiet pondering over the town’s brief history would help.

It didn’t.

Still, they sat in silence. Outward silence. His thoughts fought to be heard, to break out from the delicate prison he’d pushed them into when he steeled himself to potentially see Martha here, next to Spark.

“Can I ask you something?” Wag blurted out. Spark looked up. “If you’re- if you’re not busy, that is.”

He set aside his pen- something he’d carried from Ruxomar- and gave him an inviting wave.

“What’s the difference between loving someone and being devoted to them?”

Wag bit his lip as Spark mulled over an answer.

“That depends,” he said, after a moment. “What kind of love and what kind of devotion?”

Wag could see in his eyes that Spark knew what he meant, but was giving him space to elaborate on his issue.

He has to know, right? What I’m about to do.

“Devotion to,” Wag took a breath, “To your goddess versus the love you have for her.”

Spark stretched and sat back in his seat, relaxed. “It’s based in different things. Devotion is based on a shared belief, a shared idea. I followed,” Spark swallowed hard, “My goddess because I, too, believed in the balance she stood for, and the peace it upheld.”

He swiveled the chair half-way around to gaze out the window. “I loved her because of who she was. Her laugh, her smile, her energy and joy and spirit and how she’d get that sparkle in her eye when she’d see me, a mix between something soft and something loving and-”

He clears his throat, clearly holding back emotion. “I loved her because she was everything right in the world. In my world.”

Wag did not mean to open up something this heavy for Spark. But he wasn’t done with his questions.

“Did being in a relationship affect how you followed her?” He shoved his hands underneath his thighs to stop from fidgeting.

“Yes. And no.” Taking a moment to compose himself, Spark swept his eyes across the landscape, the solid silhouette of Jerry’s Tree in the background. “After getting together, I was devoted to her in the sense of any typical boyfriend; I doted on her, did romantic things with her, the whole shebang. In terms of being her follower and champion, I knew when to be professional and to act upon our shared belief system. It took practice to not let one bleed into the other, but I made it work.”

Though Spark wasn’t looking, Wag nodded.

“How.” He cleared his throat. “What would be the best way to... separate that? To pull apart your devotion and your relationship so they don’t affect each other?”

Spark turned back to him, his figure highlighted by the glow from outdoors, creating a regal picture of a tired, broken old man. “Separate them? You don’t. You can’t. It’s impossibly hard to have the maturity to stop your feelings from changing how one part of your relationship goes.”

“To be a lover means to be ready to defend your partner at all costs, just as you would a champion. To be a champion means to love your goddess to the ends of the world, just as you would a lover. Devotion and love are centered from different places, but once your feelings in them cross they cannot be unlinked.”

“But they’re not the same.” Now Spark was starting to get confusing and muddled to Wag. “

You just said so! Loving someone can come in different forms. You can love your goddess and not be in love with her.”

“But you still love her, regardless of which side you love through. Champion, partner, it's all love. If you let them slide together, they die together. What’s the difference? What creates that gap?” Spark had a glint in his eyes, now, something removed from the quiet, tender sadness from before.

“There’s a big difference!” Wag freed his hands to gesture wildly. “To love your partner is to cherish every moment with them, to be apart and still, somewhere in the back of your mind, be thinking of them. You see sweets, or goodies, or just nice things and think about if they’d like them, or you see the soft purple of lilac and think of their hair, or wander past a library and think of spells and sitting up late at night pouring through books. Or-”

He threw his arms up. “Loving your goddess is different, I think. I’ve never followed one before this. I followed a god without any care for that god. I didn’t even really follow him, we followed something adjacent to him.”

“And,” Wag breathed, “loving your goddess is like seeing the value in what they preach. Like.” He was frustrated now. Didn’t he just tell him that love and devotion came from different things? If that was the case, how did being a champion in a relationship with your goddess stop that from being different things? “Like how you devote yourself to an idea!”

Spark raised an eyebrow. “So? You devoted yourself to the idea of being in a relationship with her, you crossed that divide and filled it in.”

“But I didn’t! I just built a bridge over it and tried to figure out which side I was on.”

“Which side are you on?”

“I don’t know!” Wag was starting to breathe heavily. It was like every moment he had built up his confidence to cut it off with Martha was being uprooted like grass in a plowed field. “I just don’t want to be in the middle anymore.”

Spark watched him silently. He wasn’t going to give Wag a break this time.

“It’s terrible.” Wag continued, quieter. “Being stuck between the desire to stick by her side and protect her and the desire to be right beside her and love her, and hold her, and be the one person who can always make her laugh.”

He looked away, towards a wall with an older oil painting. “But that’s the thing. I don’t have to choose. We chose on our own without knowing. We drifted away, lost to our own problems and grief. The bridge back to her side is broken and torn and I don’t think I have the strength left in me to repair it.”

“Don’t have the strength, or are scared to?”

“Both! Neither? Fuck, I just.” Wag shook his head, trying to rattle his thoughts enough to make sense. “I can’t promise that if I do fix things they won't break again, weather down and fall away under my negligence. And I’m afraid of what would happen if I let things get that bad again.”

“Fear is natural.” Spark eyed him up and down. “But you can’t let it get in the way of your life.”

“It’s not. I swear it isn’t. But we feel fear for a reason and that’s to stop us from making poor decisions.”

“But sometimes fear is a knee-jerk reaction, what you feel when you’re uncertain or when things change around you and you’re not ready for it.”

“I’m not,” Wag whispered. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder. “I’m not ready for change. And that’s ok. It’d be better to take a step back and see what I need to do to be ready and to adapt, rather than to try and go arm deep into whatever mess comes my way because I’m afraid of losing everything I love.”

“Even if that means losing your relationship with Martha?”

“I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.” And that was the truth. For all he cared about her romantically, he also cared about her as a friend. As someone who’d been through hell and back with her. You don’t just leave people like that behind.

Spark nodded. “Then you know what you need to do.”

Now that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “Wait.” Did I just get lead on? “Was that whole conversation just a way to make me figure my shit out?”

“I wouldn’t say it like that,” Spark was smoothing out the papers on his desk. “But yes, I did pull the conversation in a way that made you think about your decision. I wouldn’t contradict my own words without purpose.”

“I doubt anyone does.” Wag rolled his eyes. “So you approve? Of me choosing to break up with Martha?”

Spark looked up at Wag, already having grabbed his pen. There was a beat of silence. Wag started to sweat.

After all of that, surely he does?

Silence.

Right?

He felt like a kid that got sent to the principal’s office. Getting stared down by the head honcho that doesn’t want to see you in front of them but also doesn’t want to let you off easy.

Still, he was scrutinized.

Holy shit man.

Finally- finally!- Spark looked back down.

“I’m impartial,” he said at last. “To be honest, it’s not my issue. While I do want the best for my daughter, she is a grown woman. You are a grown man. My approval shouldn’t matter here.”

Wag relaxed. He had a point.

Spark shook his head, signing off on a document and moving it aside. “I had the same doubts about my relationships when I was your age. That was before-” he coughed. “-you know, and when I still fancied this lovely lady from my hometown. We’d been going strong for a while, but I was dedicated to my faith and she was not interested in faith at all.”

He tsked. “We wouldn’t have worked out at all, no matter how much I cared for her. Still kept in touch until,” Spark gave a pointed look around, “This happened.”

“Okay, grandpa.” Ah, yes, he definitely wanted to hear about Spark’s love life.

A thought struck him.

“Now wait a second, when you were ‘my age’?” Wag glanced over Spark. “I’m older than you.”

Spark chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m sure we can both see I’m older than you.” He tilted his head to the side. “See that gray? That’s age and stress. Enjoy your youth while you have it.

“I’m a wizard.”

A narrowing of the eyes.

“I’ve been a wizard.”

He sat back in his chair.

“I’ve been a wizard for a long time.”

Spark turned his gaze back to his documents. “You must be pulling my leg.”

“No, sir, I am not.” Wag was fidgeting again, this time bored. “I think I’m a little over a century old? Maybe more.”

“I can understand you being a wizard, but there’s no way minor magic- non-divine magic- could extend your life.”

“I killed a god to become a wizard.”

Wag stared Spark down with a straight deadpan. Spark’s mouth worked at a response.

He’d never get one.

“So I didn’t find any proof of purchase document for Lichens- ah, hello Wag.” Martha stopped dead in the doorway, face stuck between surprised, pleasant, and a flicker of discomfort. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?”

Well. It seemed Martha found him.

Now that they were both staring at him, Wag felt far too exposed. He tugged at his hood. It was already as low as it could go on his head. That didn’t make him feel any better.

So he opted for a smile instead. “I needed to talk to you about something Martha.”

She exchanged a glance with Spark, who had a thoughtful look in his eyes. It was the kind of look that said they’d talked about him before. And, based on the look he gave Wag in turn, it was not a very positive kind of talking.

Oh dear fuck.

Martha gave him a shy smile. “Can it wait? I need to wrap this up real fast. Then, after that, I should be free for a bit.”

It couldn’t. If it did, it would never happen. Wag knew it wouldn’t. From the way his heart stuttered to the way his hands shook, he knew that if he gave himself the time to back out he’d take it. And as much as he didn’t want to make an ass out of himself by saying no, wouldn’t trapping them both in this be worse? Keeping the two of them together to pretend that things were going well?

No, it couldn’t wait.

The words, however, stuck in his throat. He shook his head. Took a breath. “I’m sorry, it really can’t.”

Martha took it in stride. “Alright. This must be important to you, let me set this down and I’ll be right out.” She motioned him to wait outside the door.

Wag took the opportunity. Once safely in the hallway, alone, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

Calm down.

It wasn’t like he was signing his life away. Or like he was telling Martha he killed her dad. They were just breaking up.

But it felt like it was more than that. It felt like he was betraying her, like all those promises he made were for nothing. Hadn’t he said he’d follow her to the end of the line? That he’d be her champion? What would become of that if he broke up with her?

Where did devotion and love meet and where did they separate?

Wag wasn’t sure anyone knew. It was a challenge to be in love with a goddess.

The sound of the door swinging open caught his attention. Martha stepped out, smoothing her shirt out. She caught his eye and sent him a smile. He gave a shaky one back.

“Gee, Waggles,” That nickname hit something soft in his chest, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were going to break up with me.”

Fucking shit.

He sat silent as his mind fell down a flight of stairs.

Martha caught on. “You, you are, aren’t you?”

Her eyes were wide, now, and Wag wasn��t sure how to follow that up. This was not going as he’d planned. Except, he hadn’t really planned it so much as made a vague idea about how he was going to.

Get your shit together man, now's the time.

“Yes.” His voice strained and he cleared his throat. “I am.”

Before she could get in a word, he pushed onward. “And it’s not because I don’t love you. I do. I love you so, so much. I’d follow you to the ends of the world, spread your name as your champion until my voice ran out, I would-” He stopped himself. This was supposed to be a break up. “I would do a lot for you.”

He took a deep breath.

“But I’m not what you need.”

His heart was free falling, bouncing between his hard and fast love for Martha and his desire to be loved. Between knowing they weren’t good for each other- not anymore- and wishing that they could be.

“What are you talking about?” Martha’s voice, though she kept her volume level, was thick with emotion. “Of course you are. I love you so much Wag, what would I do without you?”

“I’m not!” He swallowed heavily. “You don’t love me the same. I don’t love you the same. Haven’t you seen it? How we never see each other? How we can’t be around each other without walking on eggshells? How it feels like there’s someone missing that I could never replace?”

Martha had loved Steve so much. And she’d loved Wag. But after everything, he’d realized that they’d grown apart. That for all they loved each other, they didn’t.

Wag took a brave moment to look Martha in the eyes. Her tears were held back by pure willpower and rapid blinking. Her mouth was set in a thin line. For all she was trying to keep her cool it was breaking at the seams.

She was quiet. Wag could practically feel the storm of thought and emotion rolling off of her. A whisper. “You’re right.”

He held his breath.

“You’re right. You can’t replace him. No one can. But you don’t have to. Why can’t I just love you and him both? What’s wrong about that?”

No, no, no. That wasn’t his point at all.

“You can.” His voice was just as low. “Of course you can, there’s nothing wrong with that. But you’re letting your love for him get in the way of us. Your grief, your longing, your bone deep aching for him is all you see when you’re with me, isn’t it?”

“No!” Martha looked away. “Yes. Kind of. No. I don’t look at you and see Steve. I look at you and see you and I think about how much it would hurt to lose you. Like I lost Steve. How much you mean to me, how much he meant to me.”

She had closed her eyes now, putting her hand over her mouth.

“I miss him so much. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. There are days were I long to go home and see him, to be able to hold him again. But I remember that he’s not there. The thought of going home without him feels awful.”

Wag was torn, again. He felt awful to make Martha talk about this, to make her relive every time she missed Steve, mourned Steve. But on the other, this was where they were falling apart.

“I’m not innocent in this, I must admit.” He started slowly. She looked back at him, tears on the verge of falling. “I feel like I’ve lost everything. My old life, my fellow wizards, the world I used to know.” Wag couldn’t meet her eyes on the next sentence. “My powers. They haven’t come back.”

“And I’ve drawn away from everyone and everything. Even you. And as easy as it would be to blame you for us falling apart, that’s not fair to you or to your grief. But we can’t keep killing ourselves like this.”

Martha had wrapped her arms around herself now. She pushed her chin up. “You’re right. Again. This dance we’ve been performing, it’s gone on long enough hasn’t it?” A wet laugh. “We can fix this now, fix,” she gestured between them, “Us. Now that we’ve pulled the facade away. That’s the first step, right? Taking down the act.”

Wag shook his head. He wanted to. So badly. To let this be the start of something better, to remake what they had. But the roots were rotten, not just the tree. Even if they cut off every dead branch, they’d only die out again.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready to try again.” His voice wavered. If he could cry he would.

All he had were tears of blood, ever streaming.

She was quiet. Then she bowed her head. “I understand. And I’d need time, too, if we were to try again.”

The conversation fell off, but it didn’t feel resolved. Wag pushed up the energy to ask one last question.

“Will I- will I still be your champion?” It was a dangerous question. And yet, still not the one he needed to ask.

Martha appraised him. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to deal with my champion being a recent ex.” Nonetheless, she gave him a watery smile. “I’ll let you know when I make a decision.”

Wag nodded. Already, she was piecing herself back together. Faster than he ever could.

She went to turn away, opening her mouth to say one last thing, but Wag interrupted her. “Will we still be friends after this?”

A laugh, real this time. “Of course.” She shook her head fondly. “Goodbye Wag. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again.”

Martha made her way back inside, most likely about to tell Spark the news.

He felt detached from the world, thoughts echoing farther and farther away with each step Martha took. His eyes tracked her, watching how her hair moved, the grace in her stride- even has her body shook with hurt. Her neatly pressed and clean clothes, changed up from what she had worn in Ruxomar. A breathable, white silk long-sleeved shirt and dark leggings.

From the way her fingers curved in an elegant arch against her thighs to how her shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before the door closed behind her. In his head he could see her eyes sparkling, a lovely lavender to match her hair. He could hear her laugh, her voice, see her radiant smile that he always sought to draw out.

Wag could feel the floor disappear out from under him, feel himself sinking into the void. Empty, empty, empty. A chapter of his life was over, now. And it was by his own hand. For all he had feared change, he had caused it.

Was this better or worse?

A quiet, muted drip caught his attention. The world blurred back in. Wag looked down. A tiny, pink-ish speck on the floor. Another joined it with a plop. A shaking hand rose to his cheeks. Still bloody, but when he pulled it away it was also pink-ish. Runnier.

Tears.

He wanted to laugh. Instead, he strode out of the Town Hall, finding the familiar path home in a daze. A pink trail of bloody tears followed him.

He was going to miss her.

#sparklington #mianite #mianitefa #james hayes #jordan maron #waglington #captain sparklez #martha the mystic #spark conway #martha conway #the after series #if you look at my tags here and look at the tags on the first chapter #you can see where i started to get lazy lol

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hystericalweenie · 5 years

Text

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Three: Little Things

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Since you guys seemed to like the text messages between Y/n and George, I decided to include a chunk of them, since there weren’t any in the last part.

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here! Digital penetration (fingering lolz)

12:36 am, George: I cannot stop thinking about you.

My stomach churned with butterflies, but I wouldn’t let him know.

12:38 am, Me: Creepy, much?

12:38 am, Me: Kiddingggg :P

12:40 am, George: Haha. Very funny.

12:41 am, Me: Have you gone back to rehab to visit your friend?

12:43 am, George: Yes, Dean and I went yesterday after work. He’s not doing very well, but I know he’ll get better. Addiction is very scary.

12:44 am, Me: I can’t imagine. It must be hard seeing him so sick.

12:45 am, George: It is, but you’ve made all of this a lot easier for me to deal with. You make me forget about every single little flaw in life.

12:47 am, Me: Then I guess I’m doing my job.

12:48 am, George: You distract me too much sometimes, especially after last night.

12:49 am, Me: Really? Huh, I wonder why, that’s weird.

12:51 am, George: *insert eye roll*

12:52 am, Me: It’s time to get emojis, old man.

12:53 am, George: Nah

12:53 am, George: Unless you want to show me how to install them this weekend?

12:55 am, Me: Sounds like a plan, grandpa

12:56 am, George: You must be into older guys then, huh?

12:58 am, Me: Yup, I have a bingo kink

12:59 am, George: Gross.

12:59 am, George: I’m not thaaat old, I’m only 27.

I was twenty-four. Was that weird? Would he think that’s weird?

1:00 am, Me: When’s your birthday?

1:02 am, George: Next week, actually. March 13th.

1:03 am, Me: You doing anything to celebrate?

1:05 am, George: Eh, probably not. Dean and I might go to a bar or something, that’s what we’ve done in the past.

1:05 am, George: You’re welcome to come along if that’s the plan.

1:07 am, Me: I’d like that a lot, actually. I won’t get plastered this time, I promise.

1:08 am, George: Mhhhmmm.

1:08 am, George: It’s getting late, you should go to bed love

There it was, again. Love. I melted in my bed.

1:09 am, Me: You’re the one texting me!

1:10 am, George: You don’t haave to respond.

1:12 am, Me: But I want to.

1:13 am, George: See, there’s the problem.

1:14 am, Me: Is it a problem?

1:16 am, George: Yes, because I’m making you lose sleep.

1:17 am, Me: I don’t mind.

1:18 am, George: You’re making this harder for me, Y/n.

1:20 am, Me: Fine. I’m going to sleep.

1:21 am, George: *insert me sticking my tongue out*

1:22 am, George: Good. Goodnight, love.

I woke up the next morning with dark rings underneath my eyes, but they were well worth it due to our conversation; I’d found out that George was twenty-seven years old and his birthday was on March thirteenth, making him turn twenty-eight the following week. I wondered if our slight age difference would make things weird, I hoped it wouldn’t.

I went to work that morning with extra concealer on my face, and a sleek black pencil skirt with a dainty blouse. I rolled through New York traffic, waved at the receptionist once I’d arrived at the building, and made my way to the second floor with the not-so-speedy elevator. I welcomed my desk, waving at silently at Dean before stretching my hands and typing my results from the experiment.

The CBD oil experiment had gone pretty well; I used it only temples after coming home from work with a headache and I’d definitely noticed a difference. I spent the entire morning rewriting everything over and over again, wanting to perfect my first article and impress the HBIC that Connie was.

When lunch had rolled around, I decided to head to the small cafeteria to see what they had in store for me that afternoon, hoping it’d give me some energy to finish writing the article. I decided to go with my regular salad, picking out the toppings, as I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around noticing the presence of Faith, the small ginger haired girl I’d met on my first day. I smiled at her, before returning back to my salad.

“I meant to tell you before, but your idea for your experiment is really good, I’m kind of shocked at how well your first pitch is, actually,” she admitted with a smile as she opened some cabinets, scavenging for food.

I blushed at her compliment, turning my face to look at her.

“Thanks, Faith, that means a lot coming from you,” I beamed at her. “Your article of your interview with that producer from The Bachelor was amazing!”

I saw her cheeks tint pink as she turned her body to me after finding a small bag of chips.

“Really? You couldn’t tell that I was nervous during the interview?” she asked worriedly, her thin, groomed eyebrows knitting together anxiously.

I shook my head. “Not at all! It was perfect.”

She chewed on her lip before smiling at me.

“Thanks, uhm, maybe we could work on something together sometime? After the article you’re working on right now, of course,” she suggested.

I grinned at the girl.

“Of course!”

“Okay! I’ll see you around, Y/n.” She exited the room with a soft smile, and left me to finish my salad.

I was glad to have finally made a girl friend, especially someone who could potentially help me with my writing. I finished my salad-making, returning to my desk and immediately conversing with Dean.

“So,” I began, shoveling the lettuce into my mouth. “Any new office drama we can talk about while we’re on lunch?”

The people that usually sat beside us had gone off to some restaurant down the block from the office, leaving Dean and I by ourselves at the table.

“George heard two people goin’ at it in one of the conference rooms earlier,” Dean shared with a laugh, his blue eyes softening in humor.

Hearing him mention George made me wonder if George had told Dean about me. I brushed this thought off, knowing it’d result in unnecessary anxiety.

“Do people usually have sex in the office?” I asked, lowering my voice.

He shrugged.

“Sometimes, I guess, but George works on the third floor with the most empty offices, so he hears about it more than me, I’m sure.”

I shoveled more salad into my mouth, as I pondered what it’d be like having sex at the office. Having sex on one of the empty conference tables and risking someone coming in or hearing, or doing it on a desk after everyone’s gone, the building empty and the bright lights of New York lighting up the office through the windows; my legs were quivering at the memory of George’s tongue and imagining how he could fuck me at the office. It’d be so scandalous, so risky, but why did I like thinking about it?

“Y/n?”

I brought my head up to the brunette, observing his confused expression.

“What?”

“I asked how the article’s going,” he repeated.

Shit, did I space out that bad?

“Oh, it’s going well,” I stammered.

“Don’t be nervous about it, I’m sure Connie’s going to love it,” he reassured me, his expressions softening with concern.

I was not just spacing out due to anxiety from the article, but I led him to believe so because I was sure as hell not going to tell what I was really thinking about.

“You’re right,” I agreed.

I shoveled the last of the lettuce into my mouth, the fork lingering in my mouth as I thought of George’s lips; I missed the taste of him.

I wondered where his office was; I wanted needed to see him. I needed to feel his lips against mine, I needed to feel his hands explore my body, I needed something to relieve the aching between my legs.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I announced, grabbing my phone and quickly exiting the office.

I scurried into the elevator, pressing the third floor button and opening my front camera on my phone to perfect my appearance. I ran my fingers through my hair, teasing my roots to make my locks look tousled and sexy. As the elevator stilled, the doors opened, and I headed down the hallway, hoping for a sign that had George’s name on it for navigation. There was an open room with tables of desks like my floor, but it was much smaller, revealing the small amount of people in the art department.

It led to a hallway with several rooms on each side, as I slowly walked down and turned my head to each door in hopes of seeing his name or his face somewhere. I was finally introduced to a wooden door with “George MacKay” written on it. My cheeks flushed, and I knocked on the door with my knuckles. I heard footsteps as my heart raced, his door swinging open and revealing his face.

His hair was in perfect form, his locks styled effortlessly while he was dressed in a light blue button up and slacks, his blue shirt making his eyes look even lighter. His shirt fit his torso just right and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins that trickled up his arms. I licked my lips at the sight of him, as he fisted my shirt and pulled me inside of his office, kicking his door closed.

“I have to say, this is the best surprise I’ve gotten in a while,” he muttered, his eyes looking me up and down.

His hands wrapped around my waist, going to my lower back as his face inched towards mine. I felt his warm minty breath welcome me, already relieving my craving for him. I moved my nose to gently nudge his, before my lips attacked him. I couldn’t hold back anymore; George took away any self control I'd had in the past.

My hands went to cup his face before snaking around his neck. I felt his hands travel down to my ass, squeezing it, causing me to moan into his lips. I pulled on his hair instinctively, slipping my tongue into his mouth. He began walking, making me walk backwards until my back hit the desk. I pulled away, as I sat myself on it without thinking, scrunching my skirt up to my waist so that my legs could open for him to stand in between them. He stood himself between my legs once I’d given him access, staring at me momentarily. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen as he stared intently at me.

“What do you want to do, Y/n?”

I chewed on my lip. There was no way in hell that George and I’s first time would be at my work. But, I needed a relief; the ache between my legs was too much, almost painful at this point.

“Can you make me feel good?” I whimpered confidently, my fingers threading through his locks as we looked at each other.

His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded, his cheeks turning pink at my request.

“How do you want me to make you feel good, love?” he asked, his hand coming up to cup my face.

He slipped his thumb between my lips, surprising me. Without thinking, I swirled my tongue around his finger and gently sucked on it. His eye lids drooped as he watched me in awe, probably imagining my mouth on his cock. I opened my mouth as he removed his thumb and I looked at him innocently.

“Your fingers, George. Please,” I begged.

Still gazing at me, he lowered his hand, pushing my panties to the side with his index finger.

“Your wish is my command,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb running down straight to my clit.

My hips bucked at the action, and he attached his lips to mine to swallow all of my moans. He rubbed circles on the sensitive bud before running his finger through my folds. My fingers knitted themselves into his hair as he teased my entrance, driving me absolutely insane. His finger slid into me easily due to how wet I was, how wet he had made me. He pulled his lips away from me, using his free hand to insert a finger into my mouth. I sucked on it, as I tried not to let any moans escape my mouth while he attached his lips to my neck. His thumb began picking up its pace, his finger curling into me faster. I gently nibbled on his fingers as my stomach began to twist, my legs sticking straight outward and trembling. The delicious pleasure was building and building, and I wasn’t sure how long I could last.

“You gonna cum, angel?”

Angel.

I cried out against his finger with a closed mouth, hitting my climax as I came undone onto his fingers. My jaw went slack as I rode out my high, fingers threading themselves and pulling on his hair for dear life. My body spasmed against him, overwhelmed with pleasure. Once my legs finally relaxed, he slowly removed his fingers from my heat, and latched his digits into his mouth. He hummed, sucking me off of his fingers as I watched him in awe. He removed his fingers from his mouth, before grabbing some tissues off of his desk.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay, love?” He informed me, looking at me for permission.

I nodded, watching as he got onto his knees and began gently wiping my pussy with the tissues. My breath hitched at the contact, sensitive after my climax. I watched him as he looked intently at my heat, concentrating, as he strategically cleaned where I’d been dripping.

“I wish I could’ve cleaned you up with my mouth, love, I hope you know that,” he admitted, looking up at me.

I whimpered, looking down at him as he gazed at me with innocent blue eyes.

He pressed his lips against each side of my inner thigh, before standing up and tossing the tissues into his trash can. He returned between my legs, moving his palms to cup each side of my face.

“Y/f/n Y/l/n, you’re going to be the death of me,” he confessed with a chuckle.

“Rest in peace, George MacKay,” I joked. “Cause: Y/f/n Y/l/n being too sexy.”

“That's for damn sure,” he moved to peck my lips, his fingers pulling down the bunched up fabric of my skirt. I held onto his shoulders as I stood up, needing extra support for my weak legs.

I flattened the skirt, adjusting my top as well. “How do I look?” I attempted to brush through my hair with my fingers.

“You look perfect,” he smiled, pecking my lips again. “I wish we could see each other after work this week, but I’m supposed to visit Andrew at the rehabilitation center with Dean until he starts improving.”

My eyebrows furrowed and I brought my hand to his bicep, ignoring how muscular it felt.

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “You have to be there for your friends.”

He looked down at me, his expression softening as I watched him examine my features.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said softly, his eyes returning back to mine. “You’re one fucking amazing woman.” He grinned, crinkles appearing next to his eyes.

My cheeks flushed as I fought back the urge to melt straight into the floor; I felt like I could have passed out if I hadn’t forced myself to remain composed and on my two feet.

“I’m not all that special,” I assured him. “I’d say I’m pretty much just an average millennial woman.”

He rolled his eyes. “But you’re not,” he argued. “You’re so fucking intelligent and determined, it truly baffles me. Most adults go into work, because they have to; you come into work everyday, prepared to blow everybody’s fucking minds, no matter what it takes.”

He brought his hand up to his face, the pad of his thumb stroking my bottom lip. “You have these little quirks, like, you chew on your bottom lip whenever you’re nervous or focusing on something.” He poked my cheek with his finger, causing me to smile. “You have these adorable little dimples.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You roll your eyes all the time, too, which could get you in trouble one of these days, love.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, not wanting to prove him right. I shook my head instead.

“You’re stubborn too,” he added, noticing my expression. “But, I think you’re the most kind and forgiving woman I’ve ever met; I don’t think I know someone who could forgive their roommate for the shit she’s done to you,” he admitted. “But you want to see the good in every person.”

My eyebrows furrowed at the accuracy of his observations.

“How do you know all of this?” I interrogated, my eyes squinting in suspicion.

He smiled softly. “I notice all of the little things about you, love. They’re hard to miss when I’m with you.”

I bit back my giddy smile. “I notice a lot of the little things about you, too, George.”

He stepped closer to me. “Like what?” he chided with a smirk.

I brought my fingers to the sides of his eyes–careful enough not to touch his bruised eye–mimicking his previous actions. “The crinkles by your eyes whenever you smile or laugh.” I moved my finger to his nose, gently running along the bridge of it. “The way your nostrils flare whenever you’re concentrated or confused.” I poked the small freckles that were sprinkled along his nose. “These adorable freckles.” I could see him blush under my touch. My fingers went up to trace his right eyebrow. “Your eyebrows furrow whenever you’re focused on something.” My fingers moved down to his arm, tracing the veins. “The way your veins travel from the backs of your hands to your forearms.”

My palm moved back up to his face, cupping his cheek as I stared into his blue piercing eyes that gazed back at me.

“You’re incredibly loyal, and as much as you may not want to admit it, you’re hardworking and you love your job.” I stroked the small freckles along his cheek with my thumb. “I notice all of the little things about you, too. They’re hard to miss whenever I’m with you,” I rephrased his words sincerely with a whisper.

I watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, as he gulped and stared at me with an intense expression.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/n.”

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #x reader #x reader fic #fanfic #1917 #1917 cast #dean charles chapman

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