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smolvenger · 1 year ago

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A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Fifteen (Loki x fem! Reader Crossover Series)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him

Chapter Summary: You and Loki return from the cabin. Stella returns back home. Thomas opens up about the identity of the Weaver's form and his history. Then the cauldron's location is at last revealed.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Smut in the beginning (dirty talk, doing it on a table, p in v sex, use of restraints via Loki's shadows), mentions of physical and sexual abuse and violence. I interpret the Thomas/Lucille relationship in Crimson Peak as non-consensual. I choose violence. Grammar and spelling mistakes that miss my radar. But some fluff.

A/N: Wanted to get this done before my play opens tomorrow. Also...if Sarah J Maas put me through it, you guys have to go through it too. Enjoy.

DICK-Tionary: Smut begins at "Let's begin what we started last night" and ends at "You’re wonderful, my dear, truly wonderful"

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

The next morning, it was another beautiful day. You both kissed each other good morning. Holding each other as the sun rose, and the drifts of snowflakes fell. Then slow, lazy morning lovemaking. To only feel each other- greet each other’s bodies, claim each other. You could not help but admire Loki- his muscular back, wide chest, the little chest hair he had that was as dark as the hairs on his head. It almost made you disappointed when he got to change into his clothes. You followed suit with normal clothes, though a little worn and smelly from the day's change. No doubt his magic would have you all cleaned.

The cabin had breakfast. You both sat down, helping yourself to warm oatmeal with honey and eggs scrambled with cheese on them.

But how handsome, how free he looked by the fire! You couldn’t help it- you grabbed him and kissed him again. You couldn’t help but get into his lap.

He spread your legs wide as you straddled him. Continuing to kiss him, he moaned. He was panting as your hands explored him, as your hips met and you began to grind.

You reached back, touching the table, pushing aside the plates, and guiding him on.

“Let’s finish what we started last night,” you urged as you grabbed him.

He let out a smile, pulling up your skirt and petticoat.

“My- already-so much desire! And your second day…but how fortunate your lovely clothing has such…simpler access,” he said.

He leaned over to kiss you, getting wetter as he cupped your face. But his pants were still on him, you felt his hardness brush against you.

“You’re eager too. Again! My mother would tell me, that men can only finish once and then take a lot of time after to recover!” you recalled.

“My dear, you’re forgetting something…”

He undid his pants, grabbing your hips closer once he was freed. But you kept your eyes on his smirk, feeling his hard length just at the start of your entrance.

“I am not a man.”

He thrust on there, his grunts in your ear. Your laughter melted with moans. Immediately, it was intense, faster. Now this- this would be called “fucking,” you thought. He pounded into you, what little dishware shaking.

“Yes-yes-Loki- yes-please-for gods’s sake-your sake-oh-oh yes,”

His pants and grunts, his soft repetitions of your name, the table shaking as he kept on. “Yes-yes, darling- I want to want to take you on every surface here- everyone, until all the corners have felt your-your beautiful bare skin- and not one place isn’t ringing with-fuck-you scream-screaming my name when you cum.”

As he thrust, he let out a grin that bared his teeth. Then a green light shone in his eyes.

“Let’s make this a little more fun,” he voiced.

Then two shadows went up, crawling from him, they held you back. Then one reached up your leg so they were high in the air. Then the other you felt grab your wrists, holding your arms up tight. It was a deep angle.

“Oh-oh gods!” you cried as he reached there.

“Yes- and that god is me now-” he grunted. “Yes-yes keep there- keep there-darling pet-fuck-good-good little pet-”

He kept thrusting wildly. The shadows holding you close. The spin crawled up inside you, tightening everything. Ready to let go.

“Should I-I-I stop?” he teased, still that slight smile, continuing his pounding.

“Please-Please Loki- oh-oh-please no- oh gods-I’m going to cum- I’m about to-about to-”

With that, your release hit you even stronger. The world spun as it all relaxed and released inside you. You made a sound with it- Loki did as well as you felt his release inside you. Both of you stopped for a while, looking at each other as the high ran its course and then washed down. His chest heaving with the breath lost. He pulled out, pulling you up to press your forehead to his.

“You’re wonderful, my dear, truly wonderful…” he breathed out.

The shadows around the room stretched out to the walls. You looked at them as Loki smoothed your skirt and helped you back up, though keeping a hand around your back.

“Loki…how much magic does it take for the shadows?” you asked.

“Quite a bit,” he answered. “It just….flew out of me.”

You looked around to see the Shadows fixing the dishes that fell. They set them back up. Loki kept an arm around you and you placed a hand on his chest to observe. You noticed the green light still shining in his eyes. Then they shrunk, returning to him. You felt a brush past you like a cool mist. They went back to his toes and the green light from his eyes dimmed.

“Your powers are restored!” you cried.

You looked around- the safe, warm cabin surrounded by snow. A table with little water paintings. The smell of warm bread and lovemaking. The crackling, comforting fireplace. The touch of the warm blankets and embraces and reassuring kisses were as delicate and soft as the snowflakes that flew down outside the frosted windows. Then back at him.

“Then…we must go…” Loki said.

“I wish we could stay here longer…” you sighed.

“As do I, Y/N darling. Just be patient, my dear. We will complete our quest…and then we can return whenever we wish…”

Loki went to the fireplace and leaned down. You raised your eyebrows as he reached in but the fire did not burn him. He took the orange orb in his hands and returned unscathed. The fire continued to crackle as normal, though you wondered without the orb it would die and if the food would spoil.

He used his free hand to create a portal. Clutching his arm, you both went to Asgard.

At once, you were in the throne room of Asgard again. Before you were The Variants, Stella and Sif, and Thor in a circle all talking loudly and worriedly. As the portal made a sound as it closed, their heads all whipped back to you two and they were silenced.

“I hope none of you missed us too terribly,” Loki announced.

They gasped and turned to you, all hugs and smiles, reassuring words. Loki went to Thomas and handed over the orb.

“Here we are-long promised. We went through quite the trouble, so it should help.”

“It shall,” Thomas assured him, amazed that the fiery-looking orb did not harm his hand.

Thor then went up and hugged Loki so tight it almost shook the life out of him.

“How I missed you, brother! We must celebrate! All of us!”

As he let down, Loki returned to you and held your hand in his.

“Yes- took a little longer than expected. We apologize- but we are back and safe. I’ll have to tell you all about Y/N’s incredible rescue,” he boasted. He then raised your hand and kissed it. You couldn’t help but smile big.

Stella looked between you two.

“May I speak with her in private for a minute, please?” she asked.

“Oh, of course!” replied your True Love.

Immediately, Stella led you back to her room and closed the door.

“YN! Please- tell me! The way he touched you! The way you looked at each other…are you….did he…say anything!?” she asked with an excited smile, grabbing your arm.

Your eyes were full of happy tears and your smile grew.

“He loves me, Stella!” you cried.

She went up and hugged you, rocking you back and forth.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you! It finally happened!” she cheered.

She then released the hug, lighting and patting your chin.

“Well, you have spent much time surrounded by all of these handsome men! It only seems fair you should pick one of them!” she teased.

You chuckled at her and then went back to holding both of her hands, the words spilling out from you.

“I can’t stop smiling, and yet crying and I feel shaky and humbled yet alive and thrilled! I…I don’t know what to do! I’m crying and yet I’m also laughing so much…” you rambled on, tears spilling out of your eyes.

“Here, let me get a handkerchief…” she offered.

She wiped your face with her handkerchief.

“That’s much better!” she said.

She hugged you again.

“I am so glad after seeing you brave through such misery to be this happy! To see you loved and in love…” she said.

Releasing the second hug, you returned her handkerchief to her.

“I will tell you, Asgard is my home now. But Stella…what of your home?”

She fixed a few blonde hairs that fell out of place in her braid back in.

“I want to go back home. Yes, I spoke with the others but, I decided to leave after it was confirmed you were safe and returned. I miss my family… Dante playing the piano, Edith sighing about all the gloves she wishes she could buy, Elliott and Brian discussing which girls they are infatuated with, my parents on their chairs by the fire- I miss them all! I waited for you and I know you are safe.”

You nodded.

“Loki will be glad to make you a portal back home.”

“Y/N, I promise I will visit- and I will write letters and Thomas will deliver them until then. He’s nice enough to do that-i could never imagine! A baronet delivering my letters!”

You both smiled and then you clutched her hands.

“Oh, you are always welcome here! I will make sure of it. I promise you, Stella, you will always find friendship and safety in Asgard, in the palace at least- and you will be the most welcome guest of them all!” you cried.

“Oh, wonderful! Now…could you come with me to the kitchen, please? I have some things to make and I want you to tell me all about what happened with you and Loki-do not hide one thing from me!”

She revealed that she was in the process of baking goodies for a long time in the kitchen to thank everyone. You told her what happened in Jotunheim. And you did not hide from her about losing your virginity at last to the god of mischief. She blushed but kept listening, never once lecturing you about waiting until marriage. If she thought that, she kept it to herself. She said she was only happy that Loki made you so happy.

The next day was the day of her departure. She made all sorts of little cakes and biscuits to thank them all and handed them off in little baskets that the group opened to gape at. Sif sniffed her hazelnut biscuit curiously, but taking a bite, raised her eyebrows to admit she enjoyed it. Jonathan carefully nibbled his little chocolate cake, but his eyes never left your friend. She dressed in her clean dress and her blue beads around her. Her vase and flowers are in one hand. She then got out a little cloth reticule and set it on top of a suitcase. She went over to enjoy one biscuit before she left. But you eyed the purse dangling on the suitcase.

“What’s in the reticule?” you asked.

“I found all these blue pebbles in the streets and the gardens. They’ll look lovely with the rest of my collection! Oh- and I cannot wait to press those flowers into my journal!” “It does sound like an impressive collection,” Thomas remarked. “Where do you keep it?”

Jonathan’s eyes flickered to the Baronet, an uneasiness to them, and then back to Stella.

“Oh- in my boxes back home, though they are getting a little full-”

Loki conjured her a special blue box. She gasped happily and then moved the items to be placed in.

“Oh, thank you! Loki- I am only so glad you make my dearest friend happy. She truly deserves it- may you always love her and treat her well!” she said.

“Of course, dear Miss Harris.”

She looked at them.

“Thank you all. Thank you to Y/N for listening to me, and for sending help, of course. Thank you, Jonathan, for taking me out of there. I don’t know what would happen to me if you did not. As well as your gift.”

He smiled at her.

“Of course, Stella,” was his quiet reply.

“Thank you, Miss Sif, for guardian me. Mr. Lancaster, Dr. Laing, Sir Sharpe- you all have been so welcoming and warm to me- and tell the Queen and Prince Thor I’m glad to have met them too…now…goodbye everyone! I will write and return and say hello again, I promise!”

She waved them off and stepped into the portal back home. She easily landed on those brown streets and white houses. At once, her family ran through the door. You could briefly see through the family all hugging her and kissing her. A pile of happy Harris’s welcoming her back. Nothing but warmth and love. Then the portal melted back to normal.

You smiled. As much as you would miss her, you were happy for her and her family.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later that day, Loki said he had to go find his mother to discuss something. He held it up and kissed it tenderly. You gently touched his cheek, a smile on his face. Then, almost hesitantly, he let go and went back up.

As you went over to eat with the others, you saw Hal, Robert, and, most surprisingly, Thor, at a table enjoying some ale in large cups. Your eyebrows shot up at the blonde god of thunder.

“Why, what are you doing here?”

“I much missed the company of these fine fellows- so here I am!” Thor declared. “Besides, we have something we want to discuss! I hear you and my brother are much in love, Lady YN!”

You sat down, feeling warm. Smiling at them.

“Yes. Yes, we are- and we are! And I’m happy!” you cried.

Robert leaned forward, folding his hands and smiling. Though it was smiles they all shared between them.

“Oh, we all knew about it!” the doctor teased. He took a pastry, you weren’t sure if it was one made by Stella or the Asgard cooks, and took a bite of it.

“Loki spoke of you not long after he met you from his trip to Midgard. He was already at least a little besotted. I told him to court you, and pursue you as any suitor should!” Thor recalled.

Robert nodded towards Thor.

“Oh, it was pretty clear you both were interested in each other, we just had to stand by and watch it all and wait for you both to admit it.”

Hal took a bite of his food and then looked at you.

“My lady, you should have seen the day when Jonathan came forth as a messenger, saying that Loki had brought you to Asgard after your apparent cry for help,” he recalled. He gestured to the others there. “He was already watching everything from his shadowy corners. Then he came up to us in this room as we all sat to tell us what occurred.”

There was a little repressed snigger among them.

“We asked if Loki had wooed and won his lady love, especially after her great rescue by a god,” Thor began. The corners of his lips twitched up.

“And what did Jonathan say?” you asked.

“He said you threw a shoe at him,” Robert answered.

They finally burst into laughter. Laughing so hard, Thor’s voice seemed to shake the walls for nothing about him could be minuscule. Hal dipped his head back, baring his teeth in a wide smile. And Robert turned bright red and placed a hand over his stomach.

“How I wish I could have seen it myself! Even now- we cannot help but laugh at that!” Hal chuckled.

You laughed along with them, accepting your ridiculous actions back them. Then Thor turned to you, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Nevertheless, I am glad for it. You make my brother happy and I love him. I’m glad to see him so,” Thor said.

You grinned up at him.

“Thank you so much, I will do everything I can to make sure he is happy,” you promised.

“I believe you already have,” said Thor, clasping a comforting, large hand on your shoulder.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The orb was taking time to work. And Jonathan was completing the last of the translations. He said he would take it upon himself, and he went to the library to focus on that so Thomas could focus on the device. Divide and conquer, as the old saying goes.

You couldn’t help but be curious about this little room where Thomas made his inventions. It was a smaller room. Three desks full of parts, gears, and knick-knacks cluttering all over sat in each part. You noticed all sorts of children’s toys lying about- music boxes, mechanical animals, dolls. There was one device that sat in the corner behind you. It was a lovely little room full of gears, but also little mechanical toys. Devices, miniature machines, and all sorts of things. The tracking device itself looked like a little compass attached to what seemed to be a mechanical crane with wires near a typewriter with a blank sheet of paper in it- untouched. No location yet.

But there was a figure wrapped in a plaid shawl sitting on a chair- the room could get a little chilly. His back to you. Quiet and focused on something on that desk. His dark, curly hair was so much like your True Love’s hair. He turned over with a smile.

“Oh! It’s you” Thomas greeted.

“Hello, Sir Sharpe…how is it all going?” you asked.

He looked over at the tracking device.

“It should take another day…but then it should all be ready. This device shall sense where it is and the typewriter shall write it down,” he answered.

You observed over at some of the little dolls sitting on the desk. Some of them are in cloth dresses like the ones worn in Asgard.

“Thomas- did you make all of these?” you questioned.

“Oh, yes. Sometimes for the business here. But all of my life, I had ideas. I was fascinated by how machines work. I love to make toys. Let me show you- here! This one!”

He gave you a miniature of the machine he was working on.

“This one. It digs up clay and dirt in the ground and harvests it. Perhaps it shall be useful soon after all of this. Now we have to use it to support the Asgard economy. And here…this one….this is the one we need magic for!” he explained excitedly.

“I bet you will help so many others!” you encouraged.

He nodded, setting the device down on his desk.

“Yes…yes, I will. I wish I could open a shop to sell them. Even if it were simply toys for the little children here, I would be happy,” he said.

He looked around at his various devices. And then he turned to you.

“I know you are wondering about what happened in the Weaver’s Cottage…” he began.

“Yes, I do, and I know Loki told me it is personal…” you assured him, a hand flew up before you to pause.

Thomas’s smile melted down, and you heard him take a deep breath.

“Miss, I believe I am ready to tell you…” he began.

He gestured for you to sit on a chair next to him. He removed his shawl. He then folded his hands, slightly leaning over. He rubbed his hand once, and then looked into your eyes.

“The Weaver- her form was that of my elder sister, Lucille.”

It seemed she always took the form of someone personal to your friends. If it was Munrow for Robert, you had your suspicions, from what you gathered of their stories, whose forms she took for Hal and Jonathan…and Loki too.

He looked sad.

“Thomas…you were frozen in that little cottage. And she said something about women dying and you doing nothing to stop it…did Lucille…harm someone?” you asked.

“We have known each other and have been friends long enough, I can tell you…”

He swallowed.

“I grew up under the baronetcy of the Sharpes. We lived in a grand mansion in England in the middle of the countryside. A plain field with no trees. Where the town was a long, lonely walk away. Isolated, imposing, and grand. The mansion I had known for all of my life was twelve times the size of a normal house. One would think my childhood was full of playing through the halls…but Mother locked us up in the attic. All I can remember was having to stay there. And if we snuck out or misbehaved…Father would beat us. Like he beat mother.”

You turned cold inside.

“He broke her legs. Lucille was allowed in and out then to nurse her…she did so much, there was something of protectiveness in her. Once, we were caught sneaking out of the attic and she took the beating in my place. The words my father called her. His daughter. A child…I could never repeat them to you. We would cling to each other in the dark attic. She would sing me a lullaby to help lull me to sleep. I would come up with little toys from the knick-knacks. One night she was sobbing and I embraced her. We made a vow to never abandon or be apart from each other. One we would keep- we were all each other had. Then…then…”

He hesitated. Then taking in another breath, he continued with his eyes looking right into yours, even if they began to blink rapidly.

“I was nine I think…she was already blossoming into adolescence. And she told me….told me one day to…to take off my clothes. And to lie down on the floor in the dark, I didn’t know what was happening. I felt myself crying. But I was curious and I wanted her to feel better…and she…lifted her skirt and she…she…”

He paused. You felt sick to your stomach.

“You can imagine the rest.”

Your mouth opened wide and you set a hand over it in a silent gasp.

“She continued for years. I didn’t know how I felt. Sometimes it was uncomfortable. Sometimes it was nice. I just kept being called over by her…to do it. Bring her some solace. But yet..I…I didn’t know…I didn’t even know what was happening to me when it did…”

He swallowed.

“Then Lucille had enough of our father. His cruelty. Her rage burned up inside her. Until One day, I managed to get out and his bleeding corpse was on the bottom of the stairs… and she was on top, the blood on her hands…”

“So it meant your mother could let you out?”

“No- she still kept us confined. Years passed- I was about twelve. Lucille Fourteen. Then one day she…she caught us in the middle of it.”

You didn’t have to ask what.

“My eyes were shut- they shut whenever it happened. I don’t remember my mother's face, but I remember her crying ‘Oh my god!’ and calling us monsters. But my eyes did open in time…to see Lucille split an axe into her head.”

He swallowed, blinking, and then continued.

“Then the police arrived. Had us separated- I Was sent to boarding school and she to an institution. I learned while she suffered. Part of me always pitied her. I still do, in a way. She loved me so much, and did everything for me…so when I graduated, I kept our promise and I got her out. To survive, to have the money for us, our house, my inventions…she came up with a plan. I’d marry a rich woman and once we had their money transferred to us, she’d kill them.”

“Did you enact it?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Yes. Three times. With three women. Each with little to no family, so no one would come by knocking if they were to disappear. Though I never fell in love with them, I promised Lucille I never would…yet still I…I pitied them. I would bring them here, smiling. Ignorant of their doom. And dread curled in me. And I smiled anyway. Lucille had a special tea she would brew to poison them, weaken them. I would be the one to bring it to them. Kiss their heads, tell them everything was going to be splendid. They would grow sick, and cough blood. Grow weak. They would think it was consumption..”

You felt a chill. Recalling your past illness that led you here.

“But Lucille was impatient. And eager for blood. So once they signed away their money to go to our family, I would go away. Say it was a business trip. Kiss them one last time. Then I left for town. So I would not hear the screams, their pleas for help, for me, for anyone as Lucille took her blade and shredded them apart.”

You were quiet. Thomas looked utterly white.

“I might as well have stabbed myself. I let it happen. I never once laid with them. Lucille always beckoned me, telling me she loved me, and that it was all for me as she began to do acts on me again…only sometimes my body would feel pleasure… yet I always felt…like an animal doing tricks. Doing things since my youth to please her- since it was all I knew, it was at least what I could predict. She spoke to me always harshly, making me go back to her more- for no one in this world I could rely on more than her…she broke me.”

He laid his head down, looking at his own hands. Then he looked back at you, a few tears in his eyes.

“I have so much…shame and guilt. More than I think anyone could understand…I felt like I could never say no to her. Y/N, I know you must think of me as less than a man for refusing to stand up to her-”

“Of course not! You were merely a victim of it all!”

“But I let her do everything- including murder those women. I wanted to escape...but if Lucille was alone, she would…I’d feel…guilty, she was still my sister, who took everything and did everything…then Loki appeared.”

He looked around his inventions, then back at you, wiping the tears off with his hand.

“He knew it all. He knew I…I could never refuse her, or fight her off. He told me if I did, she would kill me. So he offered me an escape, a solution. He said I could move into the palace in Asgard. To a place where the walls didn’t creak and the red clay from the ground didn’t bleed into the floors. Invent for him, for his special quest. He promised me Lucille would be safe and cared for. That there would at least be a…duplicate of me to be there with her so she wouldn’t be alone as she always feared she would be. And he would conjure enough money so that we would not harm any more poor women. And he brought me here.”

He let out a deep breath.

“…I felt bad, but I was trapped in that place. It became a prison. And Lucille and I were long dead even though we still breathed…”

He picked up the shawl and curled it over himself. There was a brief silence between both of you.

“Dear god, Thomas…” you voiced out.

“Now all I want is redemption, from my shame and guilt….from being in her bed since I was young…”

“You were a child taken advantage of!” you cried.

“Lucille was young too.”

“She was old enough to know better!” you pointed out.

He glanced out at the window where sunlight seeped through. Peaceful and joyful.

“And here- here, I can redeem myself from…allowing Lucille to harm three innocent women? From lying to them and leading them to their death?”

“Loki was right. If you refused or denied her, Lucille would have killed you next…” you mused.

He began to blink a little again, his eyes on the window.

“Lucille could have been a wonderful woman, an extraordinary woman even if the world was not so harsh to her as a child….in some ways, she was…but yet…in that haunted, creaking, broken house she was always at home. And me, I felt…felt trapped…”

You reached over and touched his hand to comfort him. His blue eyes went from the window to yours.

“You can call me a villain, Y/N. I am one. I know it,” he said softly.

“Thomas, you were hurt and abused by your entire family. Left alone with no one who would genuinely love you to respect your boundaries and wishes. Left to please those who hurt you to survive…how could I think less of you?” you asked.

He pulled the shawl further over him like a blanket

“I just…I sometimes still feel like a child. Like that little boy…helpless and alone…” he confessed.

You squeezed his hand, continuing to look at him.

“What would you say to that little boy if he was here now? The little boy. Alone and scared. Cooped up in an attic. Beaten by his parents, and molested by his sister… What would you tell him?”

He paused. Truly thinking of it. He looked around as if searching for the right words. Then when he faced you, he had tears again in his eyes.

“I would tell him…if no one would care for him, then I will. I will make sure he never has to suffer as he did…” he answered.

You hugged him and let him cry a little bit more. You then asked a servant to bring him some water and a little food. He cried a little bit more, shaking it, squeezing his long-repressed story out. You brought him your handkerchief for him to wipe off his face. You gave him a small smile, and a hand to rub his arm.

“I’m glad you told me, Thomas. You are a hero now. Helping so much. Making so many things that saved us, and will save even more people. You’re free from it all now. And you have a life where you are loved and valued and won’t be hurt…I think you’ve redeemed yourself plenty…” you consoled him.

He wiped off a few more quiet tears with the handkerchief before he returned it to you.

“Thank you…I must get back to work, but thank you for listening to me, as disturbing as it was.”

“You are my friend, of course, I shall listen to you. Is there anything else about it you need to speak of now?” you replied.

“No…I would also like to congratulate you. I am overjoyed you and Loki are together. You both found someone to love without conditions or control or hurt…”

He picked up a little from the other desk. He smoothed her hair out of her little face, Looking at her with longing.

“I hope someday the same can be said of me someday…” he wished.

“I’m sure you will- I keep noticing you at every banquet and party! All the Asgard ladies keep giggling over you! You will have their pick of them in no time!” you reminded him.

He smiled at you. His posture relaxed. Thanking you genuinely, you said your goodbyes and he continued to his work.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That evening, you joined your True Love in the garden after dinner to watch the sunset. The roses were in bloom with yellows and reds. Trees rustled with the wind. It was the perfect temperature. Not too frigid or warm. He got out chairs for both of you, as you watched the sky melt into pinks and oranges. Smiling at it as you held each other's hands. Then he turned to you.

“Robert and Jonathan told me about these inventions they had for transportation in their time- they’re called cars! They have no horses and run completely by motors!” Loki reported.

His hand opened and conjured an image of a little car above his palm. Your eyes widened, seeing the bright green shine on it and the tires spinning like a mill wheel.

“Thomas knew of them, but he was astounded they looked like that! And there’s another one- for his great quest against Roper, Jonathan had what is called a Motorcycle! It is like a bicycle from your time, only there are motors inside it too!” he continued.

“A motorcycle!? What does it look like?” you asked.

Loki conjured an image of a little black motorcycle and it spun around. You gaped at it in wonder, partially distracted from the ambiance of the place.

“ How does one ride it? It’d make me frightened to fall off!” you commented

“He said you hop on it and push the right buttons and knobs. Then you take off!!” Loki recalled. He made it whirr into place and then drove through the air before it vanished in a shimmer of golden light.

You smiled wide. Then you held hands, watching the sun glow even brighter as it dipped into the horizon.

“To think, it all is almost done…Thomas’s tracker is going to reveal the cauldron. The dagger will be finished and the spell translated any day now,” you remarked.

Loki let out a deep sigh as he took your hand again in yours. You leaned a head against you as you both embraced.

“Indeed…all those days, and adventures…finally this- are you frightened, my dear?” he asked.

“Yes…I am…I only hope all of that training is in good use, should anything occur…”

“We’ll be ready…we all shall…and I trust you as well, my little warrior mortal,” he commented.

You shifted over to sit on his lap. You hugged each other as the sun got lower. You took a hand to smooth his curls. The sky darkened and burst into stars and planets shining above. You could feel his heartbeat soften in his chest, and feel the rumble as he breathed in.

“Whatever occurs…I am only glad to have met you, my dear…” Loki said.

You smiled at him as he lifted a hand and kissed yours.

You both continued to talk quietly. He helped you off of him and you went to stand.

“Now, my dear…I think we should walk through the city. I assure you, it’s perfectly safe,” he said.

“I may be frightened…but I feel like I can face anything as long as you are with me,” you told him.

His hand never left yours as you both started your walk there. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next morning, Jonathan and Thomas rushed into the room as everyone ate breakfast. Thomas’s curls fell a little out of place from excitement. Jonathan clutched the book.

“It’s translated…and the device found where the cauldron lies,” Jonathan reported.

Everyone moved quickly before the Asgard royal family could ask questions. Finally, all of you went to Thomas’s workshop. The device shuddered once with the orb inside, and then its gears ran. The typewriter finally began clicking on the paper. Thomas reached and then took off the paper.

He looked at them, Hal had the dagger. Jonathan a copy of a journal with the translated spell.

He then looked at it, squinting, and reading it carefully.

“Svartalfheim- it’s in Svartalfheim in the Cave of Baldir,” Thomas said.

Everyone nodded, hearing it. The answer is finally there. The weight and yet relief washing on everyone. Thomas folded the paper and put it in his breast pocket.

“Then, let us arm ourselves, dear friends,” Hal said.

Clothes were brought for you to fight in. They matched the leathers of Sifs with iron armor for your middle body, shoulders, and knees. You were amazed at the pants- comfortable enough that you could move freely. You sheathed a sword and several daggers. Testing your hand, a bit of fire came out and then back. The ring from the Weavers cottage was placed on your finger. A reminder. A decoration. Still fitting perfectly, the emerald glittering.

Loki then opened a portal and all of you headed through silently.

Svartalfheim was a barren place. Like a desert with nothing but long dunes of tan sand and grey storm clouds. When the sky peeked out, it looked yellow and sickly.

“Now, let us not waste any time,” Loki began.

You sensed out. There was the Baldur cave- it was close! You felt it like a bell ringing in the back of your head. You pointed in that direction to the men.

“It’s there! Everyone hurry!’” you urged.

Off you ran. Then you saw the cave seeping out from the sandy, dry ground like a burrow. All of you walked inside, quieting your steps. Things became dark, only the light from the sun in the back slowly dimming the further inside you wandered. You clutched one hand on your sword.

But a few steps into the cave you already heard bubbling. You stifled a gasp of joy as the dimming light from the mouth shone on something before you-

A cauldron. Large enough that four people could sit inside and as tall as your head. Green liquid swirling about when you peeked in it on your toes. Green steam rose above it like it was a pot of soup.

Everyone smiled and nodded. Jonathan held out the spellbook as Loki held out the dagger, he began to tap it. He began to chant the ancient Norse as he touched it. You held your breath as the phrase was completed.

Nothing happened.

Loki was frowning.

“The spell didn’t work…it is the same as normal, how come?” he asked.

Then out from the shadows, arms reached over and grabbed you.

You let out a scream as well as Loki and the other variants. The dagger and book fell from their hands as they turned around.

Grendel’s men appeared from the shadows in armor just like the ones in Asgard.

You reached over a hand to shoot out the fire- but nothing happened. Loki reached out a hand, but his face fell as nothing hopped out.

And you realized- you had not sensed them. You fought against one- but they held you. Then you heard a voice, smooth, low, baritone, and confident- but it sent shivers up you.

“Congratulations, you fell for the trap, hook, line, and sinker. Welcome to this lovely little cave- there’s a special spell here. No one can perform magic here except me.”

The soldier holding you brought you forward to the voice. A man emerged from the shadows. Dressed still in a black suit like your own times. A pointed chin and sharp features. You recognized the face from your dream- dark hair, green eyes, and pale skin. He could have been handsome, but you knew what he did.

“Grendel…”

He gestured as his men all held your band of friends together.

“All of you make quite a band. Adorable…but quite pitiful.”

“What do you want from her? Don’t you dare touch her!” Loki cried out from where he was. He struggled hard, but they held him tight.

The soldier then let go of you, you tried to rush over to them, but with a flick of Grendel’s finger, an invisible wall came up. Loki struggled and got out, but he realized you were blocked- able to hear and see everything.

“Why…why am I separated from the others- what are you going to do to them?” you asked.

He folded his arms, with a wide smile.

“I made a promise. I always live up to my promises,” he declared.

“Promise? What kind of promises are you even capable of making?!” Robert cursed definitely, tugging against the men holding him back.

With a big smile and dramatic hand, Grendel gestured towards a shadowy corner of the cave.

“Mortal Lady, I upheld my end, and you shall yours…” the villain said.

You turned over to the shadows and saw something. A figure moving.

A green scarf.

Before you had time to process it, the Reverend Will Ransome walked into the light.

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howtotrainabraincell · 6 months ago

Note

May I request a blurb of Desmond’s teammates insisting he has a rest for once? (Pre or post Lucy whichever)

Of course! Hope I do it justice.

Desmond was exhausted. Utterly exhausted.

He had just experienced everything Ezio felt when he lost Cristina and the overwhelming pain and guilt and anger coursing through him was too much. Everything hurt. His head, his heart, his eyes from the forceful tears shed by the sole Auditore man, his muscles. Everything.

He knew what he had to do. The recovery of his ancestor's memories was important, and it needed to be done. But that didn't mean that it wasn't hard to go through.

Experiencing Ratonhnhaké:ton's pain when he had to watch his mother die and then watch his village get destroyed. Then having to fight his own father who refused to seek peace between the Brotherhood and the Order. Altaïr's anguish when he lost his youngest son Sef and then his wife Maria. It only went further when Altaïr was consumed by guilt for not being able to save his love, and then again when his daughter in law and granddaughters left for Egypt.

Desmond's head and heart began to hurt again just thinking about everything his ancestors had suffered through. They may have had the lives of Assassin's...but it didn't mean that they deserved to suffer.

He could hear two people in the kitchen. Rebecca and Shaun by the voices and the fact that they were the only other two people in the place. They seemed to be arguing, but Desmond's head hurt too much to try and focus on what it was they were saying.

Rebecca pointed at him her eyes narrowed. "I swear to the Isu's if you say one mean or snarky thing to him, I will slap the British out of you."

Shaun quaffed and rolled his eyes. "Am I really that bad to him?"

She looked at him pointedly without saying a word and Shaun sighed relenting. "Alright. I'll be as nice as I can.

"And don't tell him to rest up for the purpose of getting him fit to get back in the Animus. Actually, try to get him to rest. You keep pushing him the way you do, and he'll actually die, instead of just dying on the inside by being emotionally and psychologically traumatized."

The man in glasses watched as Rebecca grabbed the mug of tea she had just made for Desmond.

"Take this to him." She handed the mug off to him carefully. "Without snark."

He spoke sarcastically. "Yes mum."

Rebecca swatted at him aiming to smack his head, and Shaun barely dodged, hissing when a drop of hot water splashed on his hand.

Desmond was hunched over, his elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands. His hair was disheveled, and his skin was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. He had bags under his eyes and dried rings of blood around his nose, from hastily wiped away nosebleeds. It seemed as though he could barely hold himself up, and if he attempted to stand, he would fall over without assistance.

Shaun could see that the man was clearly bone tired from his interactions in the Animus.

He was going to try and be nice. He really was. Lest he be smacked by Rebecca and continue to be a complete arse to the guy who was literally the only reason why they could continue their research.

Shaun's voice was gentle. It didn't sound like him, but he was trying. Far too gentle for the snappy and grouchy man Desmond had gotten to know. "Desmond?"

Desmond looked up slowly squinting as the light hit his sensitive eyes and he was met by the scent of ginger and the sight of a coffee cup.

It was Shaun offering him a cup of tea. He reached up hesitantly wincing as his muscles protested against the action and inhaled the scent. It smelled good. Certainly, better than gunpowder, stale blood, and dirt.

The assassin didn't want to assume anything, but he thought for a moment that the British man had a look of concern on his face. He was probably seeing things. Which wouldn't be a surprise in the least.

He spoke again, once more sounding strange compared to how he normally did. "You need to rest for a while. Recover for the sake of yourself. You've been going too long without proper rest."

Desmond wanted to rebuff his statement and say that he just needed a moment before continuing. But he realized that he did need to rest. He felt like death warmed over itself and something within him told him that if he didn't...he would thoroughly regret it.

Rebecca stood a bit of a ways behind him with her arms crossed observing the both of them. "You need to Des. Seriously. We're not going anywhere. We'll be right here if you need anything."

Shaun nodded in agreement. "It's time to rest mate."

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pixyys · 2 years ago

Text

thou shalt not be sad!

making corny jokes and pick up lines for them

ft. the flags + chuuya + verlaine + adam

warnings. possible storm bringer spoilers; fluff/humor + hurt/comfort

notes. romantic/ platonic; huuuuge thank you to @silverbladexyz for these wonderful pick up lines ♡; reposting bc oh god, tumblr was in a silly mood

art by @/shan_zeze (twt)

❝you have a little bit of some loose screws in your head. everyone knows this well enough. but seriously, every person in your vicinity are just so depressed and gloomy! surely, that's nothing some some good ol' one liners can't solve. ❞

LIPPMANN

Our little story starts during a time when The Flags have the pleasure of gathering together. Everyone has been busy with their businesses for quite a while. But they finally get the time to relax and act like normal young men without the burdens and horrors of their line of work.

Of course, you are there too! For.. whatever reason you have. No one minds nor questions your presence, so you sit there, simply observing; grinning with a dumbstruck smile at how everyone is happy and enjoying their time.

Especially lippmann. You saw his recent movie, the one that blew up on the internet, yeah. He's been flying all over the world for premiers and promotions. Even now, he just got back from one of his world tours.

"Lippmann," you make your way towards the end of the billiard table. "How was Europe?"

"Europe?" he recovers from his hunched position, the billiard cue still in his hand. "It was quite nice. Do you want me to take you when I go on another tour in the future?"

Whoa. Traveling Europe with 'the' Lippmann?

"Yes please," the response comes a bit too eager than you intended. "But won't it be a hassle? Was there any quarantine during your latest travel?"

"Well, for safety measures-"

"-Because you can't spell quarantine without U R A Q T."

The room falls silent as those words leave your mouth, save for the ticking of the clock and someone's pool ball falling on the floor.

"Ah.. well," Lippmann laughs nervously. For a flit moment, burying yourself six feet under sounds like a very tempting escape. But the thought dissipates as the charming actor chuckles, with a very lilting voice and a cute-looking smile that could've made you keel over right there and then.

"I suppose there will still be momentary quarantines since the virus is still around," he continues. "After all, you can't spell virus without U and I."

Well.

"Oh hell no! Not this again!"

Something cracks with a horrible crunch, probably Chuuya breaking his billiard cue. Not sure didn't care. You're too busy gaping at the actor slash mafioso like some dying fish. Either way, this dying fish got that world tour free pass! yeah!

‎

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PIANO MAN

Looking back, you have no idea how you managed to crawl out from that pit of embarrassment and continue life as usual. Maybe your sense of dignity just dried out. Maybe you're the kind of person who just rolls with everything. You pulled through, either way.

As it goes, your existence and role in The Flags is a peculiar one, as peculiar as your personality. A wildcard, if you will. Again, maybe that's why you find yourself helping Piano Man with those 'supernotes' of his.

"Say, Piano Man, do you play the piano?" you ask, mind drifting wistfully as you watch him send away some of his underlings. Some others are still waiting for their next order, standing by within the vicinity—you included.

"I don't," he regards your curious question.

"I think you'll be a great pianist."

Piano Man offers a raise on his brow, "On what ground?" he said.

"I mean, better yet, you can be Bae-thoven."

To put it in the most less-heartbreaking sense, his response is both something you definitely expected but nevertheless didn't prepare for. The silence that follows is reminiscent of that time you landed a free Europe tour pass with Lippmann, so is the forced laugh that grows from Piano Man's mouth.

Another, painfully awkward silence that comes after it, however; you can't help but reel from it.

"Piano Man, please. That's the worst possible response," you half-whispered.

"Ah, apologies. I suppose.. thank you?"

THAT IS THE WORST POSSIBLE RESPONSE.

The room is dead silent, and it doesn't look like it's because Piano Man's underlings are too afraid to laugh in his presence. No, at this rate, your sense of dignity will really dry out, dissipating out of existence. That is until you saw a glimpse of Piano Man's subtle smug face.

Ah, right. It is Piano Man you're up against.

[name]: i showed you my best pickup line pls respond

piano man: no <3

In bitter shame of such pitiful defeat, you toned down your puns ever since. But one time, when you cross paths with your arch nemesis once again, Piano Man strikes up a conversation.

"About that thing about not being able to play the piano, [Name]. I think I'll start learning it."

"Really?" you turn to him.

But what did he do? he, in turn, closes the distance, leaning his face to your ears, "How about you give me some piano lessons?" he whispers, and you can almost, almost feel his breath lingering on your earlobe.

"We can play all night and make sweet music." you can feel his smile.

You ascended; jaws dropped, eyes popped out, cheeks hot. You didn't remember if you passed out or dropped dead.

Really, it's best to only pick battles you can win.

‎

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ICEMAN

"Iceman is it? You seem like a cool guy. I hope we can get along."

Iceman knew you're a walking embodiment of a headache the moment you exchange names and shake each other's hands.

He still wonders why he still puts up with your shenanigans. Or why he still agreed on helping you do combat practice and friendly spars. All the while trying to not accidentally stab or decapitate you, probably.

He watches you pat down your light bruises, making use of the momentary rest. Objectively speaking, you are no weak opponent. Sure, he can likely kill you in your sleep. But at least not without some struggle in your part.

"This place is pretty neat for sparring, like a very comfy practice room," you comment, still holding the shoulder that might have a nasty bruise- or a sprain? He hopes not. Iceman wonders if he threw you too hard just now.

"Oh! Speaking of," you suddenly turn to him, "Are you a practice room? Because I want you and I hope you're not taken."

Yeah, No. he really should've thrown you harder.

Iceman, once again, questions why he puts up with you. You both are not even musicians and you manage to force that line into this context, and for what?

"..Iceman?"

He remains passive.

"Uh, please laugh?..At least?"

You made it a mental note to not mess with Iceman again. Poor guy. He still helps you patch up those sparing bruises though, so you should be good👍

‎

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DOC

"Sorry, can you help me? I think something's wrong with my eyes."

Being sent to the battlefront is tough. Guns and fists and knives don't exactly line up with an unscathed body. But you're tougher! And you have your reliable good friend, Doc. Iceman's training retinue polished you like a coarse diamond grinder, so Doc didn't have to do much than patch up minor cuts and scratches.

Doc decides to hold back further questions at your remark. Instead, choosing to appraise your face- the eye you claim to be 'wrong'. There's a subtle crease on his brow as his hands frame your cheek, trying to observe visible damage on your eye.

Of course. Even the most skilled doctor won't find anything. your eyes are fine.

"I think I just can't take them off you." you wink.

Doc tilts his head, then blinks.

Cute! Yet, the silence is starting to trigger the PTSD you got from Piano Man and Iceman. You hope it won't be the same case for this 'Doctor-Man.'

He finally nods, as if making up a decision. "Does it feel numb? Or painful?"

"No, I mean-"

"Maybe something is wrong with your extraocular muscles. I can open them up and-"

"You know what? Don't worry about it," you cut him off, rushing to swat away the current topic. "I think it just healed! That's amazing! I knew you're the best doctor one could ever ask for!"

Yeah.. better be careful next time. Getting your eyes dissected and cut open must not be fun.

‎

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ALBATROSS

You're not saying you have a favorite in The Flags, but you're saying you have a favorite in The Flags, and that might or might not be Albatross. (It's definitely Albatross).

He is your true partner in crime, aiding you in your eternal quest to annoy every single living existence (especially Chuuya, but don't tell him that). Albatross isn't very keen on puns or pickup lines, but he picks up the habit as soon as you start greeting him with those daily doses of corniness.

"Morning!" you send the energetic wheelman a lighthearted smile, waving as you pass by the hallways of the headquarters.

"Oh, mornin' [Name]-"

"-Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

By normal standards, a perfectly normal person normally does not start their morning with a badly-placed and badly-formed, relatively corny pickup line. But abiding by the normal standards isn't exactly how you roll, and neither does Albatross. That moment marked the day The Flags must put up with a brand new headache.

"I'm confused… I thought happiness started with an H, but mine seems to start with U."

"Life without you is like a broken pencil... totally pointless."

"Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile."

"Are you a loan? 'Cause you've got my interest-"

"Alright. i believe that's enough, you two."

It takes Piano Man a lot to get him to lose his patience, and apparently, you've done abundant. Don't worry about Chuuya, the little precious bundle of rage is long gone. He knows better than to risk exhausting his voice or accidentally ransacking the whole hideout (lmao).

‎

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ADAM FRANKENSTEIN

You are suffering from success. Or winning from failure? These jokes and pickup lines became something of a second nature to your tongue. You can't even remember what you said to this robot- er, supercomputer agent Adam Frankenstein.

"Oh. This is what humans call as puns, also known as paronomasia, a form of wordplay that exploits multiple meanings of a term, or of similar-sounding words, for an intended humorous effect."

"Yeah-"

"But yours wasn't funny."

>:0

"W-well," you cough, recovering yourself. "Funny isn't the only intended effect. It was a punny pick-up line."

Adam nods.

"A pick-up line or chat-up line is a conversation opener with the intent of engaging a person for romance or dating. Are you trying to woo me?"

"W-wwwhat?"

So, a literal robot just pulled an uno reverse card on you. Yet still, that's a good question. Are you really trying to woo him?

"I- I thought you'll start making one of those android jokes." you make an unsteady smile.

"My android jokes? Of course. They are not made with the intention of expressing romantic expression, so I can make one for you if you wish so."

Well. This tin man just indirectly reject your yet-to-exist confession.

"Either way, I am flattered by your attempts. However, I'm afraid that it will be impossible. You are a human and I am an autonomous humanoid supercomputer, the first to be used for law enforcement use-"

Yep. the tin man just directly rejected your yet-to-exist confession. Adam woke up and chose violence. At this point, you're better off going home and curling up in your blanket with some sad love song playlist. You think Chuuya winced and made a very pitiful expression for you. But you choose to mark that off as your imagination.

‎

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PAUL VERLAINE

For a reason you can't fathom, you somehow end up in Verlaine's, Chuuya's, and Adam's theater of bloodshed.

Right here, right now, you're a vanguard of the battlefront. You shouldn't be thinking 'this'. Your chest hurts so bad from dodging Verlaine's attacks, your limbs are aching from bruises and cuts, your head is spinning with adrenaline, and this French man is trying to kill you and kidnap your ginger friend.

But darn, he's fine- You slap yourself.

"You good?" Chuuya rasps, struggling to make his step as he flanks your side.

"No, but-" another flying car flings towards your direction, and muscle memory forces you both to flee from your position, escaping death by a grasp.

Well.

This man is merciless, and *cough* attractive. Had he not currently trying to throw cars at you, you'd take him to some nice cafe and start serenading him with, uh, 'sweet' words.

Might as well.

"Whoa sir, you have some killer moves!" you roar heartily, uncaring by the way chuuya is eyeing you like an incredulous mother daring her child to do something stupid. "I'd simply die to have you." you wink.

"[NAME], WHAT THE HELL?!"

In that split second, your words seem to catch Verlaine in a trance. Adam's fancy iron man laser beam almost grazes the French man's shoulder..somehow.

Hey, that worked! :D

[name] : chuuya, i think he's french.

chuuya : no shi-

[name] : i think eiffel for him.

chuuya:

‎

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NAKAHARA CHUUYA

This is it. The curtain calls, and it's time to face the final boss; it's time to unleash the ultimate torment to this poor boy.

"Ooh! Don't you look dapper? I always liked your fashion sense. You look good in that suit."

Chuuya doesn't immediately answer, opting to silently trace the paved sidewalk you both are treading on. By all means, both of you have no trouble with resources that a personal car, or even a whole limousine won't be impossible. It's just that the moon shines beautifully that night, so you drag your grumpy friend for a breath of fresh air.

"But you know what you'll look better in?" you chuckle, following his steps. "My arms."

Nothing. Mo reaction. No swatting your finger guns, no annoyed and incessant curses. Chuuya treats you like a nonexistent ghost, until he halts and simply stares at you with an inexplicable expression.

"Chuuya?" you falter, "Did- I go too far? Or did it finally get you? my jokes..?"

Oh, it did get him. No, you got him.

He shifts closer to you, like he finally loses it and is about to choke you to death. But this feels different. There is no malice or raw anger in his movements. They feel.. heavy, tired. Wordlessly, he leans his weight on your body, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

His breath is warm against your collarbone; the slight shudder from his long exhale stripped the corny jokes off your tongue.

"Oh, Chuuya.." you mirror him, putting your arms around him in a reassuring embrace. He is now here, in where you both want him to be: Your arms.

Some things come, and some things simply go. But some other things just don't change. Chuuya is grateful he can still hear your annoying jokes and lines, and that you are still by his side.

#[bungou stray dogs]#bsd x reader #bsd flags x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd adam x reader

137 notes · View notes

spacegoathours · 2 years ago

Text

alright this has been sitting in my wips for weeks and it was gonna be a ref sheet but I sort of already did one so /shrug

since I did a buncha your OCs today now you get to hear ‘bout mine here goes

some stuff that will probably contradict itself bc I’m bad at writing AND!! bad at continuity. but here’s A LOT of story/personality stuff.

while on Irk in the “early years” whatever you wanna call her smeethood until whenever she gets banished, Callie gets away with small things that other Irkens wouldn’t get away with simply bc she’s Tallest Miyuki’s…idk…protege? she’s expected to be as powerful and successful as she is.. especially after Miyuki dies in the vort station 9 accident

by small things I mean wearing an outfit that doesn’t fit normal Irken-in-training or Irken Elite standards (she’s elite right before being forced away from Irk). and stepping out of line when talking with her peers and ESPECIALLY when talking with those taller than her. and befriending Vortians while observing the research teams. she gets away with all of this bc if someone were to speak up they’d get in trooooubleeee

Callie can be very cheeky sometimes but doesn’t necessarily take advantage of her unwanted “status�� while on Irk. things like hanging out with the Vortian scientists and dressing slightly differently than her Irken peers are very normal, to her at least. it’s fucked up Irken society that doesn’t allow anyone else to converse with those filthy Vorts or wear whatever they want.

Despite thinking differently - and of course knowing early on that this means she’s defective - Callie feels a ton of regret and anxiety when she’s banished for going against the new Tallests’ plans for her. she knows deep down that it’s fine to be your own person and make your own way, but again, ✨Irken society baybeeeeeee✨ and she carries that anxiety, well, forever after that.

(I basically always skip the Earth portion of Callie’s story bc I wrote it when I was 14 and it was bad and stupid. All you need to know is that Callie REALLY LOVES EARTH. yes this doesn’t match the vibe of the show at all but who cares: she learns that being herself and engaging in her true interests and goals is ALLOWED and even ENCOURAGED on earth and her anxiety ebbs away while she lives there. then she dies. oh well. as to who’s fault that is, it used to be Zim’s fault in my old story but I just HAVE NOT visited this enough to work out why/how that would even happen.)

Her human disguise was a design I used to draw ALL THE TIME in 2005 and even a bit in 2019. good times! she dressed very grunge/emo which is how I dressed in high school bc of course!!! of course she is more of a self-insert than I WANT her to be and always was!!! AUGRHHRGGH

After Callie is revived by the Resisty - attaching her dormant PAK to Nyx’s dying body - she looks like the bottom left pic. wears a beat up hospital gown all the time, still has a good amount of Nyx’s attributes, and is HIGHLY irritable and actually, really fucking dangerous. she’s aware that she’s Callie, but is experiencing some serious trauma: this isn’t her fucking body, she’s in severe pain and has to eat and sleep while her PAK tries to heal her, and she’s been ripped away from Earth where she finally felt safe and happy away from her old, demanding life.

She nearly kills Lard Nar at least once, trying to convince him to bring her back to Earth. the rest of the crew thinks their captain has completely lost it allowing a mentally unstable Irken on board. or really an Irken at all for that matter considering uhhh the whole reason the Resisty exists in the first place. Lard Nar tries to get his crew to understand that Callie is not a threat (knows this bc they knew each other on vort research station 9) and would be a great asset to the resistance once she recovers

but yknow it’s not going well. Callie is NOT NICE to anyone on the ship, least of all Laksa, the nurse trying to help her recover, and a lot of this has to do with the fact that Nyx’s attributes are still present. Callie’s defective PAK, while mostly functional, is taking ages compared to a healthy PAK to make this new body completely “her” again. I mean, side note, Nyx was a model Irken: so uh, ASSHOLE. and did her job well, nearly getting the Resisty killed. so having all of THAT basically still present…..hmmm, bad.

Luckily Laksa has endless patience and Callie does start to recover, and her eyes start working their way back to just blue as opposed to the one blue and one teal when she first woke up. looks like the bottom center pic. she starts to calm down and fly off the handle way less. Starts appreciating Laksa for all the work she’s tirelessly put in to make sure Callie is okay. she’s still really far from ok and processing all the trauma from her past and present.

that’s where all the angst happens that I’ve been writing oops we won’t get into THAT (something something callie and lard nar eventually end up as a couple bc I need to live my life sorry guys. I’ll talk about that uhhhhh ANOTHER TIME…or never.)

and finally after all THAT that we won’t talk about for the moment she’s much better, lost her right antennae and is essentially deaf on that side but is otherwise back to her old self but BETTER!! last pic on the right. someone made her a new uniform or something idk but she does want to dress the way she used to in the end. (does she or does her creator just really like drawing it so she has to? we may never know)

so like. Now you know where she is in the timeline based on how I draw her???? No one cares about this but me???????? Why does my dumb brain tell me I need to explain anything I slap down on this tallest forsaken website fuck it all

#irken oc #mina arts #I AM SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING #WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELFFFF #long post

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autobot2001 · 8 months ago

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Guilt and Sadness

Author: Autobot2001 Genre: Fanfiction Fandom: Transformers Rating: T Warning: Talk of poor mental health Pairing: Drift X Jamie (OC) Description: It's not only Crosshairs and Drift struggling this time as Jamie suffers a flare-up.

@medwhumpmay day 28, alt 8; unconscious & alt 18; chronic illness

Despite the unpredictability, Crosshead and Drift struggle as it’s only been three months since Jamie’s last flare-up. They struggle to relax, knowing she won’t decline and they can keep her in their room. A rule Ratchet decided since the two know how to care for Jamie and she won’t decline. Still, Ratchet worries about Crosshairs and Drift’s mental health that he has thought of telling them to bring Jamie to the medbay, but Jasmine and Jolt advised him not to, pointing out that the two would panic. They also believe daily visits to the three’s room would also worry them.��

Ratchet sits in his office, hating he has yet to figure out how to rid Jamie’s body of the chemical and thinking about her list of chronic illnesses. Hating the chemical counts as one as it tries to kill Jamie. Add her anxiety and depression. Everyone hates watching her struggle. Crosshairs and Drift believe this is the worst it has been since they met her twelve years ago. The Autobots who’ve known Jamie longer can’t remember if Jamie has struggled this badly or close. Which they find good rather than bad. Ratchet is one of them. “Ratchet?” Ratchet sees Optimus has been sitting before the desk, “what troubles you?” “Jamie suffering another flare-up, her chronic illnesses which adds to Crosshairs’ and Drift’s. We know they struggle with knowing grinds and fellow Autobots are dead, but they are struggling a lot more watching Jamie struggle. I feel like I’m failing them.” “I understand. We know mental health is complicated. We don’t know all of Jamie’s battles and missions, but we know enough to know being in battle has affected her mentally as it has us. Add what she dealt with and continues to deal with in her dimension. The bond she has with Crosshairs and Drift affects them differently than the rest of us. Even while Bumblebee and Hound also watched Jamie fight for her life.” They decide Rung will check on Crosshairs and Drift later today and in a few days. They hope Crosshairs and Drift will talk to Rung.

Crosshairs and Drift know they shouldn’t push friends away, but they want to be left alone even from their closest friends and Crosshairs’ sister. Everyone knows the situation and worries about Crosshairs and Drift. Especially Crosshairs since he acts ok. The two mechs pushing them away adds to their friends' concern. “You know that going into the room when they don’t want us is not advised,” Lightning reminds Sunstreaker. “Yes, I know, but they wouldn’t push us away like this. Seldom do they when Jamie is in the medbay. I worry they haven’t recovered mentally from Jamie being in the medbay three months ago. I don’t think they remember the rules set depending on the level of flare-up Jamie is suffering.” “Frag, even with good vitals, they could be thinking she’s dying,” Sideswipe adds, “that’s not something we can ignore, Lightning. We need to tell Rung.” Lightning recognizes the potential mistake of the brothers, but her concern lies in the validity of their claim.

Drift sits on his knees by the bed, holding Jamie’s hand. He knows she’ll be ok, but it’s hard seeing her unconscious like this three months after she was in the medbay. Seeing the oxygen mask rather than the breathing tube doesn’t feel any better. Crosshairs sits next to Drift and hugs his worried friend. It’s still hard for Crosshairs to see Jamie unconscious, but he’s worried about how anxious Drift is. The two see Jamie’s stable vitals. “She’ll be ok.” “No, she won’t. I know she’s stable and won’t decline, but think about it. She’ll be struggling mentally when she wakes up. I know it’s normal because anxiety and depression are chronic illnesses, but this period of… feeling more depressed has lasted almost a year. Add this fragging chronic illness; a fragging poison in her blood trying to kill her. We learned Jamie deals with all this soon after the KSI scrap, but I never thought we’d see her struggling like this. I think this is the worst her mental health has been—.” “I know, it’s hard to watch her struggle. I’m worried about how this is affecting your mental health.” “What about you? You act like you’re ok until you can’t. I know you do this, so you’re not helping me.” Drift doesn’t want to argue, but he strongly dislikes Crosshairs’ behavior. He’s afraid Crosshairs will lash out. At anyone could get Crosshairs into trouble, but he’s worried about Crosshairs lashing out at Jamie. “Scrap,” the two hear. They see Rung standing by the couch. The psychiatrist worries the two Re arguing. “We’re not arguing, Rung,” Crosshairs assures him, “how much did you hear?” “Just what Drift said. The twins and Lightning are worried about you two. Actually, I think more Autobots are. I think you two need to talk to me.” Crosshairs and Drift have no choice but to talk to Rung, despite knowing he can’t help them.

Rung can only listen as Crosshairs and Drift talk to him. He doesn’t believe this is harder on Drift because he romantically loves Jamie. Even if he didn’t love Jamie like that, both Drift and Crosshairs love her as a friend and hate seeing Jamie’s mental struggle. Rung thinks this is why they want solitude more than Jamie’s flare-up. This wouldn’t make sense to their friends, but it does to them. “I’m sorry I can’t help Jamie, but you two need to let your friends support you two. I understand you don’t want to leave Jamie, but it would benefit both of you. You know she can’t decline. I think one of the medics can stay here.” “He’s right Drift. We know we need to take care of our mental health to help Jamie.” “O-ok.” Drift’s response worries both Crosshairs and Rung. The psychiatrist calls Ratchet.

Ratchet walks into the room, seeing how uncertain Drift is about leaving. He convinces Drift to go with Crosshairs. “That bad?” Ratchet asks. “It’s the trauma that’s getting to them and Jamie’s poor mental health.” “Even with these numbers. Jamie is stable. She’s getting the lowest oxygen support possible with a Venturi mask. It’s concerning they can’t think she’ll be ok.” “With this, yes, but they worry about her mental health. I think her desire to be dead is adding to the fear that they will lose her. I hate not knowing what to do,” the psych observes Ratchet, “are you blaming yourself?” “I know you can’t do much for Jamie mentally, but I should have purged the chemical from Jamie’s body by now.” Twenty-two fragging years.” “I know it’s a challenge. You’re trying.” Rung leaves the room. Ratchet sits on Crosshairs’ bed. It’s still hard for the medic to see Jamie unconscious. Tears roll down his face and he lets himself cry, feeling as if he failed Jamie.

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finalgrllfriend · 9 months ago

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Okay actually I want to ramble about this more (going insane but in an autistic direction)(my brain has gotten a hold of Adam and will not let go)

Warning ahead of time: I'll be talking briefly about decomposition and showing a screencap of Adams "corpse"

here are some reasons why I actually do think Adam is alive: - He's assumed to be dead, not shown on screen dying. Both with saw 1 and 3, the audience is left to *assume* he's dead. Yes, we saw Amanda suffocate him on screen but a. it wasn't long enough to actually kill him, and b. we never saw the outcome, just a cut to the next scene. - Speaking of Amanda killing people, Eric was also supposedly killed by her but was later shown to have been recovered in time, and nursed back to health. John said he cleaned up after her mistakes, not her mistake. Plural, with Eric being referenced as one of those said mistakes. Hoffman could've just as easily gotten Adam, revived him, and had him work for John. - In Saw 3, John specifically says to shackle Adam's left foot. Adam's "corpse" (in both instances of flashbacks to it), has the shackle on the wrong foot. They wouldn't have made a continuity error like that. It's purposeful and gives them the room to set up Adam as an apprentice. - Speaking of Adam's "corpse" if we're supposed to believe the timeline of events post-bathroom, he's in the wrong decomposition stage. In a moist, moldy, open-air bathroom, he would decompose super quickly, within a month his body would be liquifying. This is his "corpse" after SEVERAL months, and it still has flesh and hair and teeth there's no way that's him.

- In Saw 4, 5, 6, etc. there is a HEAVY emphasis on photography of victims for traps, photography that's intensely reminiscent of Adam's style of photography. None of the apprentices are shown to be taking these pictures, and none of them are particularly shown to be doing all of the research on these victims. - In Saw 4, there's the bedroom trap, but I also like to personally call it the Darkroom trap because it just looks too much like Adam's darkroom for there to not have been any influence. In my personal opinion, I think Adam helped design the Darkroom trap and provided all of the pictures for it/they were recovered from Mark with his access to the police's files.

For visual reference, side by side: The bedroom trap vs. Adams darkroom

I would also like to add that there could be something said about what they didn't include in the movies between Amanda and Adam. There's a deleted scene where Amanda is being haunted by Adam, and how he had gotten a picture of her when she abducted him in his apartment. Could the use of tossing that storyline be because they want to set up him still being alive?

As you can see I'm completely normal about Adam and this theory, and the saw franchise in general.

please guys you gotta believe me please just trust me

Guys trust me Adam is totally alive he was the one who took the pictures for the traps in saw 4 and helped design the darkroom trap guys don't worry don't worry Amanda just thought she killed him like she did with Eric and then Hoffman saved both of them and Hoffman brought Lawrence his little gay boyfriend and Lar nursed him back to health and he takes pictures for them for their traps and research on future victims guys you gotta believe me I saw it with my own two eyes I swear I actually wrote the script and I met Adam himself he told me

#actively going bonkers bananas stark raving mad #adam faulkner stanheight #chainshipping #saw 2004 #sawposting #sawtism #saw franchise #adam stanheight #horror #amanda young #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon

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prettyboypucey · 3 years ago

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Weird ~ G.W.

Summary: George is gorgeous. Charlie is a meddler. The snow is cold. (this summary sucks...just read it)

Pairing: George Weasley x Y/N

Word Count: 2,404 (who do I think I am?)

Warnings: mentions of bullying. mentions of food/eating. george is unknowingly triggering? reader cries. idk? let me know if i missed something.

A/N: part 2? maybe? translations are for romanian via google translate. do not come for me if they are hella wrong.

Translations: draga - darling; dragoste - love; tampit - stupid

I had never been normal. From the time I was a toddler I had stars in my eyes and dirt on my knees. While the other kids in my grade were playing with dolls and dressing respectably, I was riding imaginary dragons and wearing mismatched socks with dungarees and a butterfly headband. Normalcy evaded me even further when at 11 years old, I got a letter declaring me a witch.

When I first came to Hogwarts I spent the majority of my time alone. It appeared that even children who could wave a stick around and makes things fly wanted nothing to do with the colorful little girl. Meeting Luna Lovegood in my second year was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Here was a girl who allowed me to be exactly who I was with no judgments. And then she introduced me to Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, and suddenly that little girl who thought her only friends would always be the rocks she painted faces on, had found her people.

Of course, being friends with Ginny Weasley meant knowing her many brothers. So after graduation when I went off to Romania to work with dragons it made me feel slightly better knowing Charlie Weasley would be there. He quickly took me under his wing and became the older brother figure I had never had. After working together for three years, and electing to stay at the sanctuary for the last two over the holidays, he had finally convinced me to come home with him. I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary - the one place I truly feel safe (despite the massive fire breathing creatures).

Charlie had warned me that being with one or two of the Weasleys was very different from being with the entire Weasley clan. Obviously I knew Charlie and Ginny, Ron had always been nice to me, and I had met Molly a handful of times in passing. However, Bill was known to be quite intimidating, Percy was supposedly very no-nonsense, and the twins (albeit never cruel) had a reputation of being hell-raisers.

Apparating to the edge of a marsh with Charlie by my side I could see the rising structure haphazardly balanced slightly ahead.

Pausing, I glanced at the back of the familiar red covered head, “I don’t know Charles, maybe I should just go back. I really don’t want to be a burden.”

Charlie very quickly rounded behind me to continue guiding me towards his home, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You’re not a burden to anyone draga. Keep your head up and if any of them give you grief - remind them of the giant, winged beasts you can feed them to.”

Quickly placing a kiss to the side of my head Charlie bounded ahead again to open the door and announce your arrival. Before I could toe off the first boot to leave next to the dozen other pairs in the entryway, a pair of arms had flung around my neck.

“Y/N! I missed you so much!”, Ginny pulled back, keeping her grip on my shoulders, to inspect for any major injuries.

I held onto her elbows, keeping her close, “Hi Gin, I missed you too. A lot. I’m loving this new look by the way.”

She reached up to brush the now short locks behind her ears. A grin on her face as the two of us looked the other over for the first time in months. Ginny was wrapped in a pretty baby pink sweater with shades of red and white running through it. The material was soft against my palm as I hooked it around her crooked elbow to follow her into the living area.

“You know”, she started, “I was starting to think maybe Charlie had let you get eaten or burnt to a crisp in the land of dragons. It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me or left the sanctuary.”

“I’m sorry Ginny. It’s just that after everything, I had to keep myself busy.”

Ginny’s smile softened into one of understanding. The war had taken a part of all of us. Although Fred had recovered after many months, that fear of almost losing such a vital part of their family had rocked the entire Weasley family to its core.

“I get it, I do, but I worry about you. I just want you to know you’re not alone Y/N.”

I pulled the girl into another tight hug, “I know.”

Ginny pulled away first, clearing her throat, “Okay! Now that’s out of the way - it’s time to introduce the one and only Y/N L/N to the Weasley’s.”

I hummed, “Hmmm and which of us should be more scared?”

“Oh definitely the Weasleys.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Meeting the Weasley family had gone much better than expected.

Molly had opened her arms and home to me as if I was one of her own children. By the time the night was over she had me stuffed full of warm food and drink and donning my very own coveted Weasley sweater, the lavender initial in the middle marking it as my own. Arthur had been very interested in my muggle parents and upbringing, questioning me about the functions of a rubber duck. Bill and his wife Fleur were the most stunning couple I have ever seen, and not nearly as intimidating as people portrayed them. Fleur was pleased when she found out I spoke a bit of conversational French and promised to have me over to Shell Cottage (apparently they have an amazing collection of wind chimes that I am dying to see). Percy was a bit more refined. Completely polite and friendly but he seemed reserved. Ginny had explained in one of her letters how much guilt Percy carried after the Battle of Hogwarts over how he had behaved in the years leading up to that day.

The twins were much different than I remembered them being from the few times we were around each other in school. The physical differences were clear - George’s missing ear and Fred’s dragging limp were both signs of the prices they paid in the war. More than that however, they had matured greatly. They were still happy and made sure to pull at least two pranks over the night, poor Molly nearly lost her voice after they blew up the turkey. However, there was something in their eyes that had been dimmed. Especially in George.

His twin almost died that night, and it reflected in George’s eyes each time he looked at his older brother. It was clear that he was still afraid because whenever Fred left a room George followed, never letting his brother out of his sight, and if he happened to lose track of him a panic began to swirl in his brown orbs.

I was in the middle of watching as George yet again made his way to Fred’s side, clapping a large hand on his twins shoulder and throwing his head back in laughter.

“So which one are you staring at dragoste?”, Charlie whispered as he appeared out of nowhere.

I ignored the burning in my cheeks as I looked away from the scene in front of me.

“I am not staring at either of them tampit.”

“Mhmm, sure, absolutely, I believe you.”, after a quick pause he said, “It’s George isn’t it?”

I turned and scoffed at him, “No!… How did you know?”

Charlie let out a chuckle, “Because I know you my little dragon. I also know my brother, and just between us, he definitely likes you as well.”

At this I let out an incredulous laugh and glanced back to where George was now telling a story, his hands moving animatedly. There was no way that George Weasley had even a remote attraction to me. He was kind, strong, clever, and so bloody gorgeous it truly was a privilege to look at him. And I am…me. Nothing special. Just a girl who had more dragon friends than human ones and whose hands were covered in scars and callouses and whose socks never matched and had never even kissed a man before. So no, there was no way that George Weasley would ever like me.

“Hey. I know that look Y/N. Stop those thoughts right this bloody second.”

“Charles it really is annoying when you read me like that.”

Throwing his arm over my shoulder he began to lead me towards the twins, “Yes I know and I am sorry in advance but this needs to be done. Fred!”

Charlie’s voice had gone from a rushed whisper to a jovial shout when we reached George, Fred, and Ron by the fireplace. George’s smile as he turned to look at us sent a million butterflies off in my tummy.

“So Freddy, I was hoping you could help me out with a top secret project tomorrow for mum and maybe show me around the joke shop. I heard you added some new displays that I want to check out.”

“Sure Charlie”, Fred glanced at George as he spoke, “I’m sure we can make some time for our favorite brother.”

Ignoring Rons protest, Charlie gripped my shoulders and pushed me in front of him, “Actually George I was thinking you could stay here and show Y/N around the area. She mentioned wanting to talk a walk tomorrow and I would hate to disappoint her on her first Christmas out of the sanctuary.”

“Um-”

I interrupted the rejection coming from George, “No please, I would hate to be a bother and make you be stuck with me all day. I’m sure Ginny can take me.”

George smiled and shook his head, “No it’s completely fine Y/N. I would be happy to show you around.”

“Okay great! It’s settled then!”, Charlie looked rather too pleased with himself and obviously missed the look exchanged by his identical younger brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning the Burrow was a flurry of movement as everyone began their day. Apparently Charlie and Fred weren’t the only ones on their way out. The others still had some last minute gift shopping to do and Ron was spending the day with Hermione’s muggle family. After breakfast, a quick wink from Charlie, and a slam of the front door - George and I were alone in the house.

The two of us stood facing one another in the living room for a few awkward moments before George spoke, “Well, um, did you want to head out as well?”

“Oh sure! Yes, let me just grab my boots really quickly.”

George led me out the door and onto the snow covered path towards the small, iced over river. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound was the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional sniffle from one of our red noses. I was mentally imagining all the ways I was going to kick Charlie’s ass when he got back for suggesting a walk in the middle of winter when we came to the top of a hill and stopped.

Everything as far as the eye could see was blanketed in sheets of white. Stomping my boots down into the fresh snow, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the snow gave way underfoot. Feeling a pair of eyes on me I remembered that I wasn’t alone and turned to see George watching me with an unidentifiable look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that. I liked the feeling of the crunch of the snow I guess. Sorry.”

George grinned, “You don’t have to apologize. It was cute.”

I could feel my face flush at his words. His smile grew even wider at the sight of my heated face. My gaze dropped from his pretty face down to my boots. I could feel the thick socks I had on beginning to grow cold and wet from how long we’d been outside. Looking back up I could see George’s deep eyes glaze over. Assuming it was because he had been apart from Fred so long I glanced out at the view one last time before turning back the way we came.

“We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while and my toes are getting wet. I feel bad enough that Charlie forced you to do this anyways without you getting frostbite or something. I’ve had frostbite, it’s not fun. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Sorry”

George was shaking his head at me and said, “You are so weird.”

Ouch. My chest tightened and the small smile I had been wearing dropped from my face. If I had been able to see past the tears forming in my eyes that were making my sight blurry, I would have seen George’s face do the same. Unfortunately, all I could focus on was that word. Weird. Strange. Abnormal. Freak.

Weird weird weird.

The walk back was silent. A thick tension surrounded you both as thick snow flurries began to swirl down in the midmorning air. Just as thick was the lump forming in my throat as I fought back tears. I know I shouldn’t let his words affect me. He’s just some guy. But deep down I also know that he’s not just some guy. This is George fricking Weasley. With his stupid perfect face and gorgeous eyes and his loyalty to his family. I couldn’t help but be enamored with him from the moment I walked in the Weasley’s front door. So it hurt to hear the man I liked call me that nasty word that has haunted me my entire life.

When we finally reached the Burrow, George tried to reach for my arm but I pulled away and ran into the house. I could hear that some of the others had returned and really wanted to avoid a confrontation. Once again, luck wasn’t on my side. Charlie came walking out of the kitchen and saw me in the entryway. His face immediately became concerned at the sight of me and he lowered the sandwich he had from his mouth.

“Draga?”, Charlie’s voice followed me as I finally reached the stairs and launched upstairs.

As I reached the first landing I heard him speak again, his voice rough and hard.

“What did you do?”

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter writing #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x platonic!reader #charlie weasley imagine #hp #harry potter

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nothoughtsonlynat · 3 years ago

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Cold Vodka, Warm Hands (N.R.)

Words: 1.6k

The icy wind whipped across my face as I peered through the scope. The frigid metal of the Barrett M82A1 felt comforting in my hands. The cold never bothered me, of course. Due to my pyrokinesis, I had complete control over my own body temperature.

There wasn’t a sound for miles and, somehow, it was both peaceful and unnerving. The snow crunched with any and all movement, so we were staying unbearably still. I slowly scanned the abandoned factory for our target; a Russian arms dealer who was planning on stealing some alien tech and selling it for profit. We were about 1,500 yards from the factory. There’s not much cover out here, so our choice of positions was very limited. The shot would be a difficult one, with the distance and the crosswinds, but this is my specialty. Well, it used to be, before I discovered my ability to manipulate heat and fire. I’m one of SHIELD’s best sharpshooters.

As I checked once more for the target, a chattering noise distracted me from my task. I pulled my face away from my rifle to look at my partner, who was laying next to me, prepared to range the target and gauge the wind. Her lips were turning a shade of purple, and her teeth were chattering from the cold.

“Are you okay, Agent Romanoff?”

“Mhm.”

“Sure. Aren’t you Russian?” She leveled me with a hard glare and I slightly raised my hands in the air and went back to my task.

I noticed some movement through the scope. “Target, 11 o’clock.”

“Oblique wind from the left, 8 miles per hour,” she called out.

I adjusted the scope accordingly and took the shot. Clean kill. No witnesses. Objective complete. I quickly unloaded the rifle and slung it over my shoulder as Agent Romanoff packed up. To say I was relieved the mission was over would be an understatement; this woman is practically a walking gay panic, and the mission had done nothing to help with my not-so-small crush on her. I risked a glance at her as we walked side by side. She looked freezing. Her right hand was in her pocket, but her left was exposed since one of her holsters blocked the left pocket.

“Is there any particular reason you’re staring at me, Agent y/l/n?” Shit.

“Oh, I- uh, I- um, can I hold your hand?” Her head snapped around to look at me as I realized what I said. “I just mean that, um, you look really cold and I can, you know, warm up your hand, at the very least. With my p-powers.” She didn’t say anything as she blankly stared at me, and I was worried that I had crossed a line until she abruptly stuck out her hand. I stared at the appendage for a second before realizing what she meant. I grabbed her hand in mine and focused on my powers, being careful to not let my hand get too hot.

We walked hand-in-hand the whole way to the safehouse. I could hear her sniffle every once in a while, but I didn’t say anything out of fear of getting punched. As we entered the safehouse, I realized it was more of a shack than anything. The walls were plywood and the whole thing was only one room. The kitchen area had a couple of cabinets and a small gas stove, and there was only one fairly small bed, as well as a small fireplace.

“Huh. This is…”

“Horrible. This is really horrible,” she finished for me. I couldn’t help but notice how nasally her voice sounded.

I slid the bags off her shoulders and set them down next to mine. She sent me a questioning look as I walked her to the edge of the bed and sat her down. I said nothing as I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Sit here. Don’t move. Please.”

I walked around the room, lighting the oil lanterns. I grabbed some firewood from the pile and stacked it in the fireplace, using my powers to light a fire. I went into the ‘kitchen’ and rummaged through the cupboards. I heated a can of soup in my hands and poured it into a bowl. I found some teabags and heated some water the same way, since it was faster.

I brought the tea and soup over to Natasha, placing them on the stand next to the bed. She made no move to grab either item, too busy looking at me with a bewildered expression.

“What? You need to warm up. You’re already getting sick.”

“Why are you taking care of me?” She asked as I helped her move up against the headboard and under the covers.

I handed her the soup and said, “Well, you’re my partner— on the mission, I mean. It’s my job to protect you...on the mission.”

She hummed and I left to hang up our clothes to dry. I grabbed the second bowl of soup and sat in the bed next to her, as far away as physically possible.

“I don’t bite, you know. You can sit closer. You’re gonna fall off the bed,” she said amusedly.

“Right, sorry. Just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable, minus the fact that it’s still freezing in here.”

After we finished our soup, we went to bed since there was nothing else for us to do. I was woken up in the middle of the night by Natasha’s fit of sneezing and coughing. I sat up and patted her back as she coughed. That sounded painful. I got out of bed and brought her a roll of toilet paper since there were no tissues. I made her another cup of tea before getting back in bed. I could see her shivering as she sipped the hot beverage, and I had an internal debate with myself. Before I could chicken out, I slid closer to her and wrapped my arms around her, focusing on my powers.

“What are you doing?” She asked through her chattering teeth.

“Warming you up,” I replied simply.

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby. Just let me hold you.” She stopped protesting after that and continued drinking her tea. Once she was done, she set it on the stand. She snuggled further into my arms and we moved to lay down. I felt her breathing even out as her muscles relaxed. I fought off the exhaustion; if I fell asleep, my body would return to its normal temperature. I tried not to freak out at the feeling of having in her arms, knowing that after this mission, we’d go back to being just teammates.

Morning rolled around and I watched the sky lighten through the only window in the safe house. I hadn’t left the bed all night, aside from the two times I added wood to the fire. As the sun peaked over the horizon, Natasha stirred in my arms.

“Morning,” she rasped out. Oh my god, her morning voice is gonna be the death of me.

“Uh, morning,” I replied, clearing my throat. She sat up and looked over my face, suddenly making me very self-conscious.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Uh, no, not really. I stayed awake to keep my body warm for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that, y/n.”

“No, it’s— I didn’t mind. Do you feel any better?”

“Well, I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. It’s still cold as hell, though. You know what I really need?”

“What?”

“Some nice, cold vodka,” she said with a small, genuine smile.

“Oh! I have some of that!”

“You brought vodka on a mission?” She raised an eyebrow as her lips curved into a smirk.

“Yes— no, well, kind of. I bought it on the way here. Nothing like Russian vodka, right?”

I walked over to my duffel bag and pulled out the bottle of vodka. I grabbed two mugs from the kitchen, as well as a package of crackers. I slid back into the bed and she raised an eyebrow at the crackers.

“What? I’m not letting you drink vodka on an empty stomach. I don’t wanna get puked on,” I said with a joking grimace, although I really didn’t want to get puked on.

She laughed as she poured some vodka into the mugs. I opened the crackers and set the package on the bed, and she handed me one of the mugs.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” I said, then we clinked the mugs together and I grimaced at the burn.

“Ugh, why does it have to be so cold? Can we just stay in bed?” That is definitely the closest Natasha Romanoff has ever gotten to whining, and it was adorable.

“Well, our extraction isn’t until this afternoon, so yeah, for a while.” She pushed herself back into my body, and I wrapped my arms around her after recovering from the brief shock.

Three hours later, we were packing up and getting ready to hike to the extraction point. I put out all of the lanterns before leaving the safe house. Natasha stuck out her hand and I wrapped it in mine without hesitation. It wasn’t all that cold out anymore, but I didn’t say anything about it. We made it to the extraction point in about thirty minutes, her hand never dropping mine. The SHIELD jet came into view and landed in the clearing in front of us. I couldn’t stop the twinge of sadness at the fact that we were leaving. It was selfish, but I loved taking care of Natasha these past two days.

As the gate of the jet dropped, Natasha spoke in a sultry voice, “Thank you, Y/N, for keeping me warm.” She kissed my crimson cheek before sauntering onto the jet. I snapped out of my daze and followed her, trying and failing to keep my composure.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fic #fluff

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

Injury II

Characters: Kaeya, Ningguang, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,650

Warnings: Various injuries, blood, burns, minor villain death

Premise: Sometimes the pain of others can hurt even more than one’s own. In which the reader is injured.

Author’s Note: Okay so after the mind numbing fear of my computer almost dying and now maybe emitting a weird smell I’m five seconds away from pure panic. But the show much go on! Even if my word document keeps blacking out.

This is my first time writing for Ningguang! I hope I do my girl justice, she’s voiced by my fav VA, she’s a total powerhouse, I love her so much.

I tried to make all of the injuries personal to each character in some way. Funny enough Zhongli’s was the hardest to figure out. I eventually settled upon the act of you being injured causing Zhongli’s personal angst, rather than the cause of the injury. I hope it came out well!

Kaeya

Kaeya didn’t often let himself fall into fear. Not since he’d been young did he feel that he could indulge in such a sentiment. True to his vision he’d frozen that part of himself, and now when panic seized him he could feel nothing but stone cold determination, and the need to continue forward without hesitation. Fear was hardly alien to him, he could conjure up the emotion all too well, but it had been dulled and replaced by cynicism and coldness. And occasionally guilt.

Looking back on it Kaeya wasn’t even sure why the two of you had strayed so close to Dragonspine, so close snowflakes were congregating in your hair.

You’d called him a winter fairy in jest at the time, wondering if he wasn’t truly the ruler of that mountain of frost. He’d laughed then, before threatening to take you away to his fairy court. “That would be quite an easy task.” You’d replied. “You’ve already captured my heart after all.”

The two of you were strolling on the rocks that lined the river which separated Dragonspine from the greater Monstadt area. Although adventurers usually roamed the area in the daytime it was now evening, and the lack of people certainly made up for the cold in Kaeya’s mind. He could only be his true self around you after all. Otherwise it was the charming and slick Cavalry Captain, a man who always knew what to say and never harbored any doubts in his mind. Not that he wasn’t still charming around you, he loved seeing you blush from his effusive praise, loved the way you buried your head in his shoulder if the flirting and the teasing ramped up enough. But there was a sincerity to his words that one couldn’t find normally in Kaeya, and he loved to show you bits and pieces of his soul, relieved to finally have someone to talk to.

“Watch your step.” You warned, grabbing onto Kaeya’s hand as he slid a little ways along a rock.

“Thank you darling, although I daresay I’m more worried about you. After all who’s the snow fairy here and who’s the wind sprite, liable to blow away at any moment?”

“So cheesy.” You mumbled, shaking your head, though Kaeya could’ve sworn your cheeks were slightly redder than they were a few moments ago. Laughing he wrapped his arm around your waist. You snuggled into his fur lined coat. “Cold.” You murmured, though you made no move to disconnect yourself. Kaeya smiled and brought his other hand around you in a soft embrace.

“Sorry my dearest, but you’re in love with an icicle.”

“Only terms of magic.” You shot back. “Otherwise you’re a nice warm fire. And don’t you forget that.”

The two of you headed a little ways down, closer to the river. A small group of frost flowers had made it to this side of the banks, and you were adamant on picking some. “They’re so beautiful!” You explained to Kaeya. “And incredibly strong, I can’t believe they managed to grow in that permafrost. They’re simply lovely.”

“Just be careful.” Kaeya commented, standing a little ways back. He didn’t like getting near the river, a river so cold it was always at nearly freezing at the bottom. Cold water and a vision of Cryo didn’t mix well.

“I’ll be fine.” You hopped to your feet, a bouquet of pale blue in your hand. You were smiling from your victory, face full of light and happiness.

It was an expression that changed swiftly as you lost your balance and plummeted into the freezing waters.

Immediately Kaeya leapt down from the rocks he was standing on, kneeling near where you were standing a moment ago. The river wasn’t very fast, bogged down by its width and how far it was away from the waterfalls in the warmer parts of Monstadt. Still it cut off very quickly, having barely the semblance of a beach before opening into a deep chasm, and anyone who fell in it would quickly fall into cold shock. Already your limbs had started seizing, and you were hyperventilating hard. Your arms felt like dead weight, and every second that passed your head dipped lower into the freezing water.

Kaeya gingerly put his hand out to make a platform of ice for him to stand on. Whatever happened he couldn’t fall in as well, it would mean the death of you two. Fear had reared its ugly head again and Kaeya twisted those feelings into action. No matter what he had to act fast and sure. Hesitation was fatal.

Plunging his hand into the water, sucking in a deep breath as the ice that still coated his palms and fingers made contact with the freezing river Kaeya hauled you up onto the icy platform. Taking off his coat he wrapped you up. Removing your gloves so the frozen water wouldn’t be in contact with your already freezing skin Kaeya cursed as he ran towards Springvale, the nearest place he could think of. He’d lugged you onto his back, and could feel the freezing water through his shirt. As he ran he kept up a stream of slightly shaky conversation, rattling off what little he knew of hypothermia.

“It’ll be alright darling, I promise it’ll be alright. You’re just going through shock right now, okay? You’ll be alright, I promise. Just stay awake a little while longer. I know you must be tired from all that excitement, but just stay awake a little longer, just a little longer and then you’ll be nice and warm, just stay awake right now okay?” His voice became more and more desperate as his fear started to tumble out of his grasp, but he kept moving. He wouldn’t lose control of himself now, not until you were safe.

Finally he arrived at Springvale and you’d been rushed to the village doctor. Kaeya was told to go and wait somewhere else, and preferably change out of his freezing cold shirt, but you’d grabbed his hand as he turned to leave and after that he refused to budge, instead borrowing a shirt from the village. He’d reimburse the people who let you two borrow their clothes later.

The entire process was a terrifying one, as you were slowly brought back to warmth. Kaeya took the opportunity to learn as much as he could, noting that you shouldn’t massage limbs back to warmth for fear of heart attack and – much to his chagrin he later joked when the situation was far enough in the past – alcohol was too much of a depressant on your system and could lead to death. All throughout he kept talking to you, even though there were times you didn’t seem to hear, times when he thought his heart would split in two.

Still it was evident you were going to survive and when you’d finally finished being warmed up Kaeya thought he could cry in relief, if only he’d been numbed from such an act for so many years. You’d run into some sort of rock in the water, and the long gash down the side of your leg was later determined by the doctor to reveal torn muscle. It’d take about a month and a half for you to recover. Kaeya thought he should’ve felt worse about it, but in the moment he felt nothing but relief, utter relief in the knowledge you were going to be fine. Utter relief that came with having almost lost you.

Kaeya had carried you back to Monstadt, much to your consternation. All the ways back you mumbled about how his penchant for drama seemed to have increased tenfold. Kaeya simply shook his head, not bothering to ask how you would’ve gotten back otherwise with your leg in the shape it was. Still it was a relief to both of you to see the city walls. Even more of a relief when you finally arrived home, safe and sound.

“I’m so glad you were there.” You confessed as Kaeya sat you down on the couch, propping up your leg and pulling a chair up next to you. “I don’t know what I would’ve done had I fallen and you weren’t there.”

“You probably wouldn’t have been there in the first place.” Kaeya remarked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. You brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned into it slightly, grateful for the contact between you two. It’d been hours but the panic that he’d felt still tugged at his consciousness, as if any moment you might slip away again and leave him panicked and alone.

“Were you afraid?” You asked.

“Of course I was afraid.” Kaeya’s reply came swift and sure. “I was terrified, terrified in a way that I haven’t been in years.” Kaeya’s eyes clouded over, as if reaching deep into his memories. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles and then your palm. “I thought that you might die, and in that moment I was ready to curse the world all over again.”

“But I didn’t die.” You said solemnly.

“No, you didn’t.”

“And that’s because of you. Because you reacted quickly, because you had the magic with which to do so, and most of all because you never hesitated. And because of that I’m alive and well now. Injuries aside I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Kaeya knew you were right. You were alive. You weren’t going to go where he couldn’t follow. The fear coiling in his stomach began to subside. He’d been so afraid, yes, and in that fear he’d managed to find the strength and determination to save you. But now you were safe and he no longer needed to rely on that strength; he could give into his relief. Realizing this, realizing how frightened he’d been and how that was now part of a past he could move forward from, could truly forget, Kaeya could only marvel at his relief. Only then did the tears begin to fall.

Ningguang

If there was one thing Ningguang wasn’t expecting out of today it was your leg collapsing and her winding up in the waiting room of the Liyue hospital, mind replaying the last week or so, wondering where she might’ve realized something was wrong.

It seemed like the kind of thing Keqing would make a joke about. Here Ningguang was, the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing, the most powerful woman in the trade capital of Liyue; here she was, her world completely gone awry, completely shattered by your injury.

A stress fracture, the doctor had said. It was the kind of injury that developed slowly and came about after weeks instead of in moments. The initial strain was usually something mundane, a sprain, a bruise, maybe you’d walked on your foot for too long. But after sometimes weeks of ignoring pain and swelling your body couldn’t take it any longer. Ten weeks, that’s how long you would be laid up. And Ningguang couldn’t help but feel every one of those ten weeks was her fault.

She should’ve noticed it. That train of thought continued all throughout the process of you being treated at, and eventually discharged from, the hospital. You weren’t just one of the people she worked with daily, weren’t just her closest colleague. You were the person that Ningguang loved more than anything in this world. How could she possibly not have noticed the signs?

Ningguang found herself obsessively trying to connect the warning signs that must’ve been there. She knew that your foot had been aching for some time, but though she’d been vaguely concerned she’d said nothing other than a simple “be careful”. She’d never thought to check after you later, sure that it was nothing. Now she felt nothing but shame, both that of a personal and of a greater kind. How could she manage looking after all of Liyue if she couldn’t even look after you?

You noticed Ningguang’s silence as you two made your way out of the hospital and towards the apartment you shared. Although Ningguang was perhaps seen as a reticent individual you’d found her surprisingly open, always ready to discuss things that were of interest either to you or to her. She wasn’t the kind of person to walk along in silence; not when she was around those that she cared for, not unless she was thinking about something important, not unless…

Finally you two arrived home. You collapsed on the couch, tired and ready to either read or nap. Ningguang was preparing some tea and a various array of fruit, not that there was much food in the lavish apartment you two shared. Considering the workload between the both of you it was perhaps unsurprising that there was nothing much to eat. That would have to change, Ningguang noted; she’d make sure that you were recovering in the most comfortable way possible. It was the least she could do.

“Are you feeling well?” Ningguang asked, placing the food and tea on the table in your room. You nodded.

“I feel fine, although I’m not looking forward to the walk to the Qixing headquarters. I have to admit dear this might be the only time I’m a bit glad that I don’t have to make my way to the Jade Chamber every day.” Ningguang smiled at that, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She sat silently, sipping her tea slowly. Your expression clouded over. “Hey, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Oh it’s nothing my love.” Ningguang spoke up quickly, leaning over and kissing you on the cheek. “I’m just sorry to see you like this.”

“Well you can’t blame yourself. You know that, right?”

Ningguang found she couldn’t bring herself to lie to you. Your gaze, though soft, seemed to pierce right through all her excuses and all her bluffing. She sighed softly. Maybe it would be better to be upfront about it, clear and concise, how one should always be. At least then she could apologize properly.

“In truth I do blame myself. I can’t believe I was so neglectful of your health, so blind to your pain.” She shook her head, staring at the hand that was holding yours. A disconnected part of her thought of how well the two fit together, fingers intertwined softly, your palm warm and comforting.

“If you were blind to this then so was I.” You spoke softly but firmly, refusing to sugar coat your words. Ningguang admired you for it, even if she didn’t believe you, something painfully clear in the expression on her face. “You cannot blame yourself.” You continued, “I won’t let you. I don’t want you beating yourself up for something that neither of us predicted. If you feel the need to blame yourself for this you must also blame me; I was the one walking on the injury without paying enough attention.”

“But – ” Ningguang paused, realizing the truth behind your words, slouching slightly she sat in deep thought. “I… I realize there’s not a lot of logic behind my thinking.”

“Well feelings are hardly logical.” You pointed out, squeezing her hand. “And because they’re illogical they don’t go away quickly. But I at least want you to try and combat your guilt with what I’ve told you. Because just like you hate seeing me in this cast I hate seeing you in pain.”

Ningguang nodded, heart filled with a deep sense of love and tenderness. Leaning over to give you a kiss she smiled softly. You did too. For a moment you two basked in each other’s presence and happiness, before you smile turned mischievous.

“Although… I won’t object to a little pampering.” Ningguang chuckled, shaking her head. But her smile was real this time, and you wouldn’t ask for anything more.

“You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I know I am.” You replied. “And you’re lucky I adore you.”

“I am.” Ningguang’s reply was just as sure, was full of quiet but strong emotion. She was lucky. And she would never take you or your love for granted. No matter what.

Xiao

By the time he’d met you Xiao had long come to the conclusion that he’d never find it in him to like humans.

Humans were dirty, they were untrustworthy and full of darkness, they broke things without thinking about it, mangled their own people, their own families and friends and countrymen. Humans slaughtered one another without thinking of how it might stain them, and when they weren’t killing they were stealing and lying and ruining the land around them. How could he, a being designed solely to destroy the darkness in the world, ever find in himself the will or the ability to look past all that?

When he’d met you and had fallen in love in earnest this view had still changed ultimately very little. But even if you’d admitted that what he said was mostly true, you’d found that you still wanted him to learn to care at least a little bit about humanity. I mean you were ultimately one of them at your core. It didn’t feel right to prop yourself up as the one great exception, not when there were other people who were certainly like you in mind and in morality. Xiao silently disagreed with this analysis; to him there never was and never would be someone like you, in all of Teyvat. Still, he felt compelled to try, though more for your sake than for his, and as the weeks had gone on he’d begun to look at humanity not with any sort of respect or hope but with a sort of begrudging curiosity, and an admittance that maybe, just maybe, there was a bit of that light you saw in it.

What a fool he’d been.

Although Xiao was aware of the growing threat of treasure hoarders across Liyue – so widespread that they’d even managed to eat away at the tranquil lands surrounding Jueyen Karst – he’d never considered them a serious threat. So when the two of you accidentally ran into a group of them while exploring some of the older Liyue ruins Xiao didn’t bother to do much more than wrap an arm around your waist, sure that even the most idiotic of treasure hoarders wouldn’t be so foolish as to pick a fight with either an adeptus or their beloved. You seemed unfazed at any rate, explaining that the two of you were simply passing by and had no desire to pick a fight; if they’d be so kind the two of you would be on your way.

Perhaps the treasure hoarders were well aware of the fact that you could report them to the Liyue Qixing. Perhaps they were simply in a bad mood. Either way your words apparently did nothing. Xiao was becoming tenser and tenser, feeling as if something catastrophic was about to happen. That moment came to pass when one of the treasure hoarders pulled out a knife and threw it, lodging itself with deadly accuracy into your torso.

At that point Xiao felt himself overcome with a supernatural sort of calm, a calm which raced to cover up the anguish and rage that was coursing through him, threatening to burn him from the inside out. He only paused to make sure you didn’t hit the ground hard, before summoning his spear. Ignoring the cries of the treasure hoarders he made quick work of disposing of them, for what was a measly human, a piece of trash, when compared to that which had slayed countless demons? A small part of him cried out against the act, pointing out the fact that every time he wielded his polearm to kill it might bring him closer to the precipice, the fact that you were hurt mattered more than revenge, the fact that he was going to regret killing in front of you. He ignored it. At that moment there was nothing in his mind, it was as empty and staid as a clear pool of water. The only ripple in it was the way you’d jolted back in surprised, and the way you’d let out a cry before crumpling.

Xiao didn’t look back to see the havoc he’d wreaked. Instead he ran to your side. Peeling off his gloves, worried that they might bring infection, he pressed his bare hands to your wound, desperately trying to staunch the blood that was spilling out, ignoring the shocks that jolted through his hands, the result of the dagger somehow being infused with electro. The feeling of blood, your blood, beneath his fingers was nauseating, and for a moment Xiao felt his head filling with static as the pure panic that he’d felt began to overcome the initial rush of adrenaline. Snapping out of it when you let out a groan of pain Xiao looked into your eyes. They were clouded, and for a moment the adeptus was afraid you might be on the verge of passing out – had you really lost so much blood? Holding you tightly, one hand never leaving your wound, Xiao summoned a burst of air. His thoughts were still too chaotic to be processed, there was only one thing connecting them all. Let them live. If there’s any justice in this world, please let them live.

Verr Goldet had grasped the situation as soon as she saw Xiao appear on the balcony, face contorted in fear. Taking you to her room, she’d instructed Xiao to get one of the doctors from Liyue while she and the resident apothecary took care of you. Xiao did the task without thinking, and once he’d arrived with the doctor he refused to leave your side. Xiao knew death better than most adepti, certainly more than most humans. It was cold and unfeeling, and had a nasty habit of leaping onto people when they least expected it. It didn’t matter to him that all three, Goldet, the apothecary, and the doctor, said that you would be fine; Xiao was going to be there the entire time.

Eventually you managed to rouse yourself from the pain induced stupor, and when you did you saw Xiao first, eyes wide with fear and relief, tears threatening to spill down his face.

In the end you’d been lucky. Although the dagger had ruptured your spleen Xiao had acted quickly enough to avert catastrophe. You were going to survive, though it’d be 12 weeks most likely until you were completely recovered. The moment of crisis having passed the two of you were finally given a moment alone.

“Are you alright?” Xiao immediately asked. You didn’t make a move to answer, instead cupping Xiao’s cheek before moving to take his hand. At that moment how Xiao remembered. Oh; the blood. Quickly moving away he ran to the nearest basin of water, scrubbing furiously. As the water turned red a faint smell of iron filled the air; it was the most disgusting thing Xiao had ever smelt, and he scrubbed even harder. You waited silently as he finished cleaning his hands and disposing of the water. Finally he came back to sit next to you, still hesitating a moment before placing his palm in yours.

“I… I don’t understand how you could ever like humans.” That was the first thing Xiao could think of. “They betrayed you. Without even blinking. That man, all those men and women, they would’ve ended your life without even thinking about it. They would’ve killed you and lived without ever having such a thing weigh on their conscience. Humans never think about the weight of their sins. They just keep committing atrocities.”

“And what about you, Xiao. Will their deaths weigh on you?”

“As much as all the others.” Xiao wished he could be matter of fact about it, but he found that trait of his had somehow disappeared. Instead an emotion washed over him, so unfamiliar and unexplainable it seemed to choke him. “Perhaps more.” He managed to get out, before beginning to cry in earnest.

You would’ve died. If he hadn’t been there you would’ve died. For you he gladly shouldered the weight of human life, would do so again and again if only to ensure your safety. And yet it was such a heavy weight, and no matter how many Xiao killed it wouldn’t heal you.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out. You shook your head.

“Xiao I always knew that you weren’t going to be able to see humans as I see them immediately. And I know that you have a relationship with death and killing that most humans, most beings, will never have. I’m not going to blame you, nor will I turn on you. I cannot pretend that what happened didn’t make me angry. In retrospect it made me incredibly angry. It’s also true that – had you not been there – I would’ve raised my own weapon in self-defense. But now I’m going to ask you for one thing, and one thing only.”

“What?”

“Help me recover. Help me recover and let me help you recover. If there’s one thing I don’t want to happen now it’s for you to turn away from me and from everyone else, to let yourself be consumed. I want you to have somewhere you can let your feelings exist, and I want somewhere I can feel happy and comfortable as myself. You make me feel that way, so even if it’s selfish I don’t want you to turn away. And I don’t want you to grieve for me. Injured as I may be I’m not dead.” There was a pause as you let yourself catch your breath, having gotten more and more excited as you went on. “I realize that’s more than one thing.” You concluded, a bit sheepish.

Xiao said nothing for a while before leaning towards you. “May I?” He whispered. You nodded and Xiao pressed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t one of fire or passion. It was different, defined within the parameters of fear and relief, there seemed to be a sort of desperation in it, yet it was surprisingly sedate. Pulling away Xiao buried his face in your neck, careful to make sure he wasn’t touching where you’d been stabbed.

“I will. I promise.” He whispered. You nodded, smiling softly. But Xiao couldn’t bring himself to smile, not just yet.

Xiao couldn’t understand humans. They were dirty and cruel and lived without fear of consequences. Their actions haunted him and he found them easier to hate than to understand. But for you he’d try, because to him there was one thing strong than all, strong than fear, stronger than mistrust, stronger than hatred.

And that was the love he held for you.

Zhongli

If there was one thing Zhongli hadn’t been prepared for when it came to falling in love with humans it was their combination of fragility and utter ignorance to said fragility.

One of Zhongli’s favorite things to do was to simply sit and listen to you talk about your life. Humans fascinated Zhongli, it was one of the reasons he’d ultimately given up his place as Rex Lapis; inside him lived a desire to interact with humanity in a more intimate way, to know what made people behave as they did and to perhaps grow closer to them in the process.

But despite all that he still wasn’t ready for the utter fear he felt when listening to the stories of you getting hurt. You’d laughed off scrapes and bruises and fractures. The time you’d accidentally ripped off your nail was a painful yet funny anecdote, and the fact that you’d fractured your kneecap as a child was something you now looked back on with an odd sense of nostalgia.

Zhongli didn’t understand why these stories frightened him on such a visceral level. Such injuries were nothing to gods and adepti. Although the idea of a broken bone was certainly an irritation there was nothing more in it, and the kind of injuries that could easily kill humans would to Zhongli be the kind of thing that would be unpleasant for its novelty, not for its potential fatality.

He didn’t bring up these thoughts to you, feeling as if they’d somehow place an undue burden on you, or perhaps he was afraid you’d stop telling him about yourself. Still it lurked at the back of his mind, the fear of what might happen to you.

The fears that Zhongli harbored were proven in the most mundane, and thus most poignant, way. The two of you had been preparing a meal when suddenly you’d stumbled on an uneven part of the floor. Reaching your hands out to steady yourself your arm had landed flat on the hot stove, the stove which had been heating up for the past fifteen or so minutes. The scream that you let out sent a shock through Zhongli which shook him to his core. It rang through his ears incessantly, a terrifying reminder of how breakable humans were.

You’d immediately yanked your arm off from the stove but the sight that met both his and your eyes was a ghastly one. The skin on your arm was charred various colors, white blisters mixed with black flaky skin, all outlined in a terrible circle of red. You were shaking, and you face had turned a frightful ashen color. Springing into action Zhongli wracked his brain for all he could remember about burns. If the burn is serious enough go to the hospital. Never try to treat intense burns yourself as the burning has gone deeper than the initial layer of skin, raise your burn above your heart. Go to the hospital. Slinging your arm around his shoulder so that it was raised, whisper soft words of reassurance as you let out a shriek of pain, Zhongli half walked half carried you to the hospital, all while the same thought was running through his head.

How fragile humans are.

The doctors had insisted you stay overnight. Apparently the burn was bad enough to require surgery. Zhongli’s stomach had dropped as he was told that, but he managed to nod in response. Walking back home Zhongli felt all in a daze. He barely made it in the door before he collapsed, fear having seeped the energy out of him. The world pressed down on him, heavier than it’d ever been before. At least you’d be okay, he reminded himself. If he had anything to cling to at least he had that.

Zhongli was the first visitor to arrive at the hospital, having given Hu Tao the run of the funeral home as he spent as much time as possible with you. You were well enough, although a bit bogged down from the painkillers you’d been given. You’d once offhandedly commented that although magic infused medicine tended to be safer for the patient – more successful and less addictive – it was also more powerful; now Zhongli could see you weren’t kidding.

Your burn was wrapped up carefully, the doctors had managed to take the charred skin of, you’d explain, but now the burn had to be treated with the utmost care until the surgery later in the afternoon, infection was no joke.

“Well this’ll certainly be an interesting anecdote.” You let out half a laugh. “Not that I’m happy this happened, but at least this will shut up the next person who complains about how cardio was the most painful thing they’ve experienced.”

“I don’t know how you can be so cavalier about it.” Zhongli replied, tone soft and introspective. “It seems to terrifying to me, how easily humans are hurt.”

“Hey, I’ll be fine.” You assured him, voice soft but firm. “I understand how to adepti and archons and gods this might be terrifying. I’d be the first to admit we can’t really keep up with you in terms of pure healing and resistance to injury. But we’ve continued on this far haven’t we?” You smiled softly. “I promise I’m not about to die from something like a kitchen accident.”

“But what if next time it’s not your arm?” Zhongli replied. “What if it’s your neck or your chest? What if you cut yourself too deeply, what if your cut becomes infected. There are so many things I haven’t thought about until now, so many things that could hurt you. It frightens me terribly.”

“I’m very grateful that you’re worrying for me like this. But Zhongli?” You waited for his eyes to meet yours, smiling once more when he faced you. “You cannot be consumed by your anxiety. Believe me humans worry about these kinds of things. What if I tripped and fell and broke my neck, what if I scratched myself and developed and infection, what if I choked on an apple? These fears live with us, sometimes constantly, but we cannot let them consume us. As much as I’m flattered and glad you care for my wellbeing so much, I also don’t want you consumed by it, nor do I want to be treated like glass.”

“I cannot understand how you’re so resilient.” Zhongli replied after a short pause. You shrugged.

“We are because we must be.”

Zhongli knew in his heart that these fears he harbored weren’t going to go away. He knew that they were going to become more and more apparent through the month of your initial recovery, and through the longer period too as scar tissue formed and subsided.

Humans were indeed fragile. But if there was one thing stronger than said fragility it was their even greater determination to supersede it. Humans may be fragile in body, but they were stronger in spirit even than the gods.

That was something Zhongli wasn’t going to forget. Not for a very long time.

#my computer's about to die but this was totally worth it #also I never want to learn that much about burns again oof #tonight was wild #also I love ningguang so much aaa #kaeya #ningguang #xiao #zhongli #kaeya x reader #ningguang x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

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hana-akari · 1 year ago

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Sakura was a bit amazed that Jiraiya was going to willingly humor her culture. After his pigheaded display last night, she figured she would have to force him to do things kicking and screaming, “You wouldn’t be able to. My people would sooner die than be ruled over by a tyrant. Dying fighting for one's kingdom and what you believe in is considered a death of high honors. No matter social class. Even if the fight is a hopeless one, they will continue to fight until their last breath. My people do not fear death but embrace it. It comes for everyone at some point.” She did not know how long she would be cursed to walk this earth. Sakura was fairly certain she would outlive Jiraiya, and most of the people in this room,

“My people are very open to welcoming newcomers on our land. As long as they respect our traditions. They don’t have to follow them– Just don’t show up causing issues. It’s just… Going to take my people a while to forgive yours. This really all could have been avoided if you showed up like a normal person and proposed to me. I would have possibly said yes. When you aren’t being a pigman, you can be quite handsome, and enjoyable to be around.” But instead, he chose to show up and kill a bunch of people, shaming her parents in the process. She still hasn’t forgiven him for how he treated her father.

“My mother used to say they looked like small branches from a cherry blossom tree.” She was quite pleased she’d get to grow them back,

“How cute to think about… Little white or pink haired children with horns running around. Your markings are quite nice too. I do fear for all the doors. If they are born with my strength, the moment they can start walking around on their own, doors are going to accidentally be ripped from walls. The castle back home never fully recovered from that stage of my life. There’s still rooms with no doors because it became pointless to keep repairing them.” Sakura blushed a bit in an embarrassed manner,

“I admit– I am not perfect. If I’m mad enough, things still accidentally get broken. But that’s a rarity. I’ve mastered internalizing everything.” Which probably wasn’t the most healthy thing to do,

“I am glad I will not be considered a freak among your people.”

Something clicked in Sakura’s mind when she saw two warriors stand in the middle of the room. Before Jiraiya really finished explaining, Sakura grabbed his arm excitedly, “Your people do grievance circles too? How wonderful! Best way to forgive and get it all out of one’s system.” She looked at him dead seriously and pointed,

“I wish to join. I have a bone to pick with that guard of yours that dragged me down three flights of stairs by my hair and tossed me into the throne room like garbage. Woman or not, there is no honor in treating someone like that!” It’s been grinding on her nerves since it happened. She didn’t know who to be more mad at, that man or Jiraiya. Jiraiya was her husband, so that spared him from getting punched in the face. The other man was not.

“You said your people won’t respect me until I prove myself, yes? What better way to make an impression than through a fight. I am small, not weak.”

That sounds fair. Jiraiya can prove himself. It will be slow. After laying ruin to a kingdom he can't exactly waltz back in and declare he's there to help now. If Sakura was willing to put her grievance aside and vouge for his new integrity towards her people then this could work out for the better.

"I don't mind spilling some of my blood for your people or renewing our vows to them. If that's what you want then I'll do it." He agrees as he gnaws a bone clean. He ponders on where he could cut. With her by his side able to heal him any place seemed fine. "I don't plan to rule over them with an iron fist or anything. But some of my people will intergrade with yours, to live with and like them. We'll take whoever wishes to live there with us and it will be a more proper union between our people."

Jiraiya nearly choked on his food when she tackled him in a hug. He didn't expect that. It's the first time she's touched him in an affectionate way. Maybe the wine is stronger than he thought. She is quite small. It can't take much for her to get drunk. He offers a grin as she explains it. That does sound more pretty than what his people perceive it as.

"I admit I'm curious to what your horns look like grown in. If there's a chance our kids will have them then we should get my people used to seeing them. Lest they think our spawn is cursed. You shouldn't get much judgment. Different families have different things. I have markings for example. Some of the higher class families here have differing modifications."

As he spoke the toads retreated into large hollowed out holes in the wall. They aren't lit but if one stood next to them it would feel moist and hot as they lead to the source of the hot springs in the mountain.

Taking their place was two warriors. Their entertainment was about to start. A wedding here is considered quite the dull affair without a battle or blood shed. No weapons. The two were going to go at it via fisticuffs.

"You don't have to watch if you don't want to. I won't let them go until death." Jiraiya explains. "This is apart of our customs. It's kinda like justice? Most grievances are settled like this. And if there's a chance to make a show of it we take it."

#The cherry blossom princess: (v. Royalty)#blooming lights: ic #haha its okay i'll always have them for ya

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gucciwins · 4 years ago

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ahh are you angel was so good!!! is it possible for you to do a follow up where he gets released from the hospital and they go back to her house and she fusses over him a lot and takes care of him and he's like really stubborn and insists on doing things himself and walking about when he really shouldn't? I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW!!! so so so good!

Hello lovely, thank you for such a kind message. I was writing and I wanted it to be sweet but there's actually a pinch of angst involved. Anyways, if you take the time to read this I hope you enjoy firefighter harry being stubborn at home. This is a follow up to Are You Angel?

Word count: 3331

Trouble Follows

Are You Angel?

_____

Harry was living in bliss.

Although he was injured and healing nicely, the doctors have told him. He enjoyed it because he was living with his girlfriend, who cared for him and made sure he didn’t overdo it.

It’s been two weeks, and he swears he couldn’t love Y/N anymore, but it grows every day. He adored her and was so thankful for how she was caring for him. She’d make him breakfast, and they’d either share it in bed or on the couch. She made his coffee just how he liked it and left him different baked goods every few days. He’s happily putting on weight from all the treats she makes.

Then after seven-thirty, she would head to work and, like clockwork at twelve, would be making her way into the house. She’d remove her sneakers and set up the lunch she stopped by to pick up, and then she’d wake him up with soft kisses all over his face, helping him sit up because of his bruised ribs. Y/N would let him sit at the table the only time. They’d chat about how her day was going too far; then, he’d discuss the book he decided to read. He is currently reading Normal People because Y/N wanted to watch the show, but Harry said she had to wait for him to read the book so they’d be able to discuss both. Y/N thought it was the sweetest thing and smothered him in kisses. Harry likes it when she does that.

After lunch, she’d tuck him to the couch and let him rest while she made her way back to work. Then Harry spent those last few hours at home sleeping, watching Survivor, another thing Y/N got him hooked on. Harry even upgraded her Hulu because he could not deal with the commercials. He didn’t have the patience for that. Y/N told him she wanted to apply to be on any of those shows but didn't know if she’d do well; Harry doubted that. He knew she could do anything she put her mind to. Instead, she told him they should look into applying to do Amazing Race together, which he has not ventured into yet but surely will soon.

Y/N would finally come home around five, and Harry would be in the bedroom either getting ready to shower or lying in bed. He would honestly wait for her because he liked it when she helped him undress, then she’d join him in the shower where she’d let him kiss her all over. He’s honestly dying for a taste of her. The problem is the doctor does not clear him, so it’s a no to sex from her.

Honestly, the shower was part of his favorite day, he’d get to stand, and she’d just let Harry hold her. He’d whisper how he missed her. Then he’d try to tempt her by whisper sweet nothings in her ear about how he missed the taste of her on his tongue, how she could just as easily ride his face, and the one he knows that almost always gets her is how he missed being close to her, as she squeezed him tight when he slipped inside of her. She always took a step back, avoiding eye contact because she knew if she looked at the look in his eyes, she’d give in.

Y/N would look at his chest, her eyes scanning over the scars on his skin until she landed on the purple bruise of his ribs. “Not until that is healed.” She’d half-smile at him.

Today was different. He went to the doctor’s with Mitch, Y/N not being able to get out of shift as they were full of patients for the day but promised to come straight home so they could cook dinner together. He squeezed her tighter before she left this morning, hoping for good news.

Harry walked into the hospital with a smile, greeting the staff. He didn’t have to wait long until his name was called, Mitch staying in his chair, looking at a magazine of National Geographic. Harry fixed his hoodie, walking towards the nurse who guided him to room 205. Carla, the nurse, checks his blood pressure, his height, and weight letting him know he gained five pounds that the doctor would be impressed. Harry smirked, knowing he’d tease Y/N for helping him put on weight. Carla smiled and told him the doctor would be in shortly and informed him to change into the gown provided.

Dr. Vazquez walks in fifteen minutes with a knock on the door.

“Mr. Styles, good to see you.”

“You as well.” He smiles.

“Right, well looking over your charts, everything looks good but still got to look you over.”

“Go right ahead, doc.” Harry sighs with a slight grin.

Dr. Vazquez washes his hands then gloves up. He walks over to Harry, standing right in front of him. First, he looks at Harry’s arms seeing that the burns healed, with minimal scarring. Then he moves over to the gown, seeing there are no longer bruises on his leg. Harry had to do physical therapy for a week as a precaution, but he aced all the drills and then was cleared. He lifted the gown to expose his stomach.

“Does it still hurt, your ribs?” Dr. Vazquez asked as he felt around the area of the bruising.

“No.” Harry lied.

“Hmm…” Dr. Vazquez touched Harry gently on the bruise, and Harry hissed. “Think it still does. It looks like you will need that extra week to recover at least until the bruising goes away.”

“Another week,” Harry repeats.

“Yes, I want you to heal properly.”

“But my job,” Harry exclaims, not believing he has to be out for another week.

Dr. Vazquez sighs, “You’re going back to the job Harry. I understand how much it means to you. If I let you go back early, you could break a rib if you aren’t careful. Now, I want you to go home and keep doing what you’re doing. You’re in great health overall.”

“Except the bruise,” Harry mutters.

“I’ll let you get dressed. See you next week, Styles.” As Dr. Vazquez is turning the knob, he turns around. “Thank Y/N for the oatmeal cookies. They were delicious.”

Harry nods and hops down from the bench wanting to get dressed and go home.

Mitch drives Harry home; it’s silent all the way there until he parks in front of Y/N’s house, which is technically his. He’s not sure, but it feels like home, at least with her, it does.

“You alright, H?” Mitch asks, shifting to look at Harry.

Harry sighs, leaning his head back against the seat. “No, got another week and another checkup.”

“That’s alright; you need to heal properly,” Mitch responds.

Harry shrugs, “I guess.”

“We still on for dinner at seven?”

“Yeah.”

Harry gets out and makes his way to the front door. He sits on the couch, and the more he sits there, the angrier he becomes. He’s not mad at anyone, just the situation. Harry isn’t sure how long he sits there, letting his anger simmer, but it’s been a while because he hears the front door unlock and Y/N enter.

“Hi darling,” She greets from the door, where she slips her shoes off and sets her purse down.

Harry doesn’t answer, continues to sit there, too lost in thought.

Y/N smiles seeing him sitting there.

She hurries over him, desperate to hug him. She sits next to him on the couch, carefully slipping her arms around his waist as not to hurt him.

“Missed you.”

Harry sighs, kissing her head softly. “Me too.”

“Going to make you a tea, Ms. Waters was telling me it strengthens your bones and to make it even better, it smells like lavender although she said it might need some sugar if you don’t want it to be bitter.”

Y/N isn’t worried. Some days she comes home and does all the talking because he had a few rough days, and sometimes she’d be quiet, and Harry would cuddle her, commenting about everyone’s gameplay in Survivor.

This is the most stable relationship she’s been in. Yes, it is insane for Harry to move for the time being, but she’s not opposed to him moving in so soon. She loves him, and that means she sees a future with him. It may or may not end in heartbreak, but she wants as much time with Harry that she can get.

Harry was just as thrilled. Most of his clothes could already be found in the drawers she opened up for him. She has uniform shirts hanging in her closet. She buys his favorite fabric softener. They’ve been domestic from the start.

This is love, and she wants it for as long as Harry will give it to her.

Y/N came out with the mug, placing it on the coaster for Harry.

Harry stared at Y/N, thinking about every single thing she does for him. He was thankful he really was because he loved her, and this was showing him just how much she loved him, but he could do things independently.

Harry goes to sit up, and Y/N is there instantly to help him. Harry isn’t sure why, but it bothers him.

This seems to be the last straw after the day he had, and Harry shrugs her off.

She steps back, not a word is said.

“Y/N,”

A frown on her face, he called her by her name, not one of the sweet nicknames he has for her.

“You’re suffocating me. I can do this on my own. I’ve been hurt before, and I didn’t need you.” Harry says harshly.

Y/N flinches, taking a step back.

Harry instantly feels the guilt seeping in.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re feeling this way,” She says as she takes small steps back to increase their distance. “I’m going to go for a walk.” Shoes in hand, she opens the door and walks out before Harry can say anything.

Harry sighs because he didn’t mean to make her upset. He really is a dick.

Now she’s outside and upset. Harry hates that he drove her out of her own home because of his stubbornness.

He’s not sure how to apologize, but in the meantime, Harry can think about it before she comes back.

_____

It’s been over an hour, and Harry knows she should be home soon. He tried calling and texting her, but she’s ignoring his cars, rightfully so. He feels time goes by slowly now that she isn’t there to keep him company.

Harry wants to apologize and hold her close. He misses her and her sweet smile that’s reserved just for him. He feels awful because he’s not even sure if she took a jacket, and it’s a cold night. He did this and just wants her home, even if it means her being upset with him.

There’s a knock on the door, and he rushes over to open it but frowns when he sees Mitch and Sarah.

“Well, what a welcome,” Sarah says sarcastically at his expression.

“Sorry, thought you were Y/N,” Harry sighs, moving back, allowing them to enter.

Mitch and Sarah share a look, “Shouldn’t she be here?”

“She should, but I’m a dick, and she went on a walk to get away from me.”

“Harry,”

“I know, I felt awful right away, Fuck, I’ve never yelled at her-- we don’t fight. It’s not us, and now she’s not answering my calls.”

Sarah looks around the room before her eyes land on the bag next to the mushroom key holder. “The phone that is sitting next to her bag.”

“Fuck,” Harry frowns. He picks it up, seeing all his missed calls. He scrolls then stops when he sees Frankie’s name.

With Frankie, will be home soon.

It was sent fifteen minutes ago.

“She’s with Frankie.”

Harry leans against the wall, sighing in relief. “Should we be here when she gets back?” Mitch asks.

“No, we need to talk. Raincheck?”

Sarah nods, “Of course. Keep us updated.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Mitch walks out first, then Sarah before they share a look. Sarah sighs, turning to look at Harry. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but Y/N loves you. I’ve known her as long as you have. From the way Y/N has spoken about you to Frankie and me, it’s like you hung the moon and stars for her. It might be easy to treat her as a target but know this; she will never stand to be mistreated because she knows her worth. So, swallow your pride and fix this with your heart and not your ego.”

Sarah walks away before he can respond. Harry is about to shut the door when a car pulls up; he recognizes it as Frankie’s, a red pick-up truck.

He smiles; she’s back.

Y/N gets out of the car, greeting Mitch and Sarah with a hug. She frowns when Harry assumes they tell her they can’t stay for dinner. She pulls a bag out from the passenger seat and hands it over to them. Harry feels himself soften because even though she was upset, she still passed to get dinner.

Heart of gold she has.

She’s absolutely perfect, and he might have messed it all up.

Y/N hugs Frankie before moving towards Harry, a bag of food in her hand. She doesn’t meet his eyes but walks past him into the house.

Harry closes the door behind him and watches her set the bag of food that he can now see is Thai food from his favorite place three blocks away. She stands there, nervously playing with a robin ring on her index finger, slipping it on and off.

“Uh…you’re right, I’ve been suffocating,” she says softly.

Harry sighs, “No.” But it’s like she doesn’t hear him because she keeps going.

“I can stay with Frankie for a while, this is your home as well, and I won’t kick you out. Or, if you want your own space, Mitch said he could drive you over to your apartment. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Harry feels the tears coming, god he doesn’t deserve her or her sympathy let alone her love.

“You don’t need to go anywhere. I want you right here. Need you right here.” Harry takes a small step toward her hoping she won’t back away.

Y/N doesn’t, but she also doesn’t look at him either. It breaks his heart.

“Will you please look at me, angel?” He pleads.

She lifts her head, eyes red and swollen. He did that. He made her cry.

Maybe he does deserve to feel this hurt.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean a word I said. I was upset and angry, and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have. It’s not an excuse for what I did, and you don’t have to forgive me, but I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you upset?”

“Ribs aren’t fully healed, and I was ready to go back to work.”

Y/N nods because she knows what he means. He was ready to go back to work because he has been spending so much time with her.

“Right, because you need to be away from me. I got it.”

“God, no. Baby, no.” Harry cups her face. “Not at all.”

“Then what, Harry!” She tries to shout, but it comes out soft as tears begin to fall down her face. “I love you, but you’re not making any sense.”

Harry sighs, “I’m afraid that if I don’t go back soon, then everyone will see me as weak, that you’ll see me as weak.”

“Harry,” she whispers.

“I know, it’s ridiculous. I love how you care for me but me not being able to do the same kills me.”

“But you do,” she smiles; it’s the first one since she came back. “You watch my favorite shows and read books I’ve read because you want to discuss them with me. You try all my desserts without a complaint. You let me take care of you. You love me because you smile at me every morning and without fail greet me with a kiss.”

Harry lets his tears fall, wanting to soak in her words. “You love me in the little moments as well as the big. I’m sorry, I left. I wanted to give you space, clear your head as I did the same without upsetting each other more.”

“I’m sorry, I pushed you out of your house.” Harry presses a kiss on her cheek. “Will you forgive me?”

“Course, H.” Y/N wraps her arms around his waist. “Don’t like fighting.” She tells him as she nuzzles her face in his chest.

“Me either.” Harry sighs in content, happy to have her back in his arms where she belongs. “Were you serious about me moving in? I mean, we’ve only been together five months now.”

“Said it in the heat of the moment.” Harry nods, not letting her see his frown. “But it doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it. Five months may seem like little time, but with everything we’ve been through, it feels much longer.”

Harry smiles, “Yeah, I hate when people say this, but I do mean it. It feels like you’ve been a part of my life from the start.”

Y/N nods, knowing what he means, “Let’s make this our home. I want you to leave your shoes by the door and help me do laundry on Sundays. I want it all with you.”

“Getting to wake up to you every day and come home to you every night, there’s nothing I want more,” Harry confesses.

“I love you, Harry.”

“And I love you, my angel.”

Harry pulls her in for a final hug, not wanting to stop touching her, just needs her in his arms for the rest of the night.

“Dinner time?” He asks.

“Yes, please.” Y/N goes to pull away, but Harry holds her tight.

She looks up at him, eyes red but no longer sad. “Kiss, please?”

Y/N smiles at him fondly, giving a slight nod. Harry leans in, brushing their lips together softly, nervous she might pull away, but she doesn’t; instead, she presses herself closer to him. It’s a kiss that centers him, that reminds him he didn’t mess it all up, that at the end of the day, she came back to him. The kiss is soft, and Harry feels all the love she’s pouring in, and Harry hopes she can feel it from him as well.

Harry pulls back, pressing a final kiss to her lips.

“Now, dinner or shower first.”

“Shower want to hold you, angel,” Harry confesses.

“Alright, but no funny business.” She teases.

Harry gasps, “I would never.”

She giggles, making her way to the bedroom, with Harry following behind.

Harry leans against the doorway, watching Y/N set her clothes for the night on the bed, then going to his drawers to do the same. He wants this forever; he wants her to fluff his pillows, to warm his blanket, to run her fingers through his hair, to massage his back, relieving all the tension he has built up. He’s decided he’d let her shower him in love and bask in it because it doesn’t mean she sees him as weak; it’s her way of showing she wants to take care of him and who is he to deny her of that.

Harry feels his heart grow when she heads to the bathroom but stops turning to him with an outstretched hand; he steps forward, intertwining their fingers.

Yeah, he’s going to love her for a long time.

_____

Here's more firefighter harry because this wrote itself and in a matter of two days. will eventually write more for firefighter harry but will be focusing on other work :)

#harry styles #requested #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles au #firefighter harry!#harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles Drabble

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

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Hi I first sent this ask a while ago but it was about how I always see fics with Remus first joining as a player and was wondering if you could write one with Remus FIRST FIRST joining as a PT? I dont want to bother you though!

Of course! I love some baby Loops content <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for minor injury

Remus was sure he was going to buzz right out of his skin. Or puke. Maybe both. Whatever it was, at least it would make an impression.

Not a good one, mind you. Just one that would make him unforgettable.

“Oh, god,” he muttered, clutching the sides of his binder as he turned down yet another linoleum hallway. The rink was too big; he was lost on his first day, his first hour, and he would be the laughingstock of the team for the rest of his—

“Hey!” Remus froze, then slowly turned.

A mixture of fear and relief flooded through him so fast he almost blacked out. “Mr. Moody, I’m so sorry I’m late—”

Moody waved him off. “Lost?”

“Well, not really. I mean, sort of, but not lost lost—”

“Kid.” Remus shut his mouth. His backpack suddenly weighed as much as an elephant. Moody gave him a once-over before clapping a broad hand on his shoulder and guiding him in the opposite direction, down a side hall with a shiny black sign labeled ‘Physical Therapy Offices’ and a little arrow. Dumbass. You walked right past it.

“I really am sorry about being late,” he tried again, nearly tripping over a ‘Wet Floor’ sign.

“Don’t sweat it. Happens to everyone.” Moody stopped short and gestured to two doors on either side of the hall. “My office, your office. Locker room is down there and to the right if one of those sweaty bastards breaks another bone. Oh, and Lupin?”

Remus’ throat seized for a moment. “Yes?”

“Don’t fuck with their superstitions.” His tone had new weight to it, and his eyes were shadowed with some far-off memory. Remus didn’t want to know what happened to the last person that broke the rule. The strange quiet lifted after another two seconds and Moody patted his back with the approximation of a smile. “Welcome to the Lions.”

Without another word, he marched into his office and shut the door with a decisive click. “Okay,” Remus murmured to himself. “Alright. You’re here, this is your office, you can do this. No big deal. It’s just your first real job.”

The pale wood of the door watched him, silent as the grave. Remus took a deep breath through his nose and carefully pushed it open.

It was certainly an office. Quite a normal one, actually, though Remus didn’t know what else he had expected. Clean and tidy, with an empty desk to one side and an examination table on the other. Whiteboards decorated a couple of the walls—all blank, of course—and the floor was the same linoleum as the rest of the rink. “Huh,” he said aloud. “Right, then.”

Remus set his binder and backpack on the desk and turned in a slow circle, soaking it in. It even smelled fresh, but the scent of bleach and lemon cleaning solution made him wrinkle his nose. I might need a candle. Hell, just some Febreeze would do.

He crossed the room and shut the heavy door with the same satisfying click as Moody’s, then immediately whipped around and pumped both fists in the air with a silent whoop of joy. “My office,” he whispered giddily. “My office, as the Lions PT, oh hell yes.”

The door flew open.

“What the fuck?” he blurted, spinning on his heel and only barely stifling a shriek.

The shorter man cocked his head in confusion. “You’re not Moody.”

“Remus Lupin, the new PT.”

“James Potter, winger.”

“Ow,” his friend groaned, still holding one hand over his eye.

Remus’ heart skipped a beat. “Oh my god, Sirius Black.”

Sirius grimaced and gestured in a vague wave. “Bonjour. I’m going blind.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic,” James sighed, sitting him down on the exam table with a roll of his eyes. “Loops, it really isn’t that bad.”

“…Loops?”

“Lupin, Loops, you get it. Can you please soothe the baby?”

Sirius glared at him through his good eye. “You little—”

“Tilt your head back,” Remus ordered as soon as he recovered from the shock of having a hockey nickname. His team had called him Moony, but Loops…he had to admit it had a nice ring to it. The idea of having a team nickname at all sent a thrill through every nerve as he pulled Sirius’ hand away and looked into his eye.

Pretty, was his first thought. The intensity of Sirius’ gaze on the ice had always amazed him, even through a TV screen—it was nothing compared to the real thing. Silver shot through clear blue-gray like filigree; it was bright as a star despite the redness. “Am I dying?” Sirius asked drily. “Cause you’re just a blur right now.”

“You’re not dying,” Remus assured him. “You might need eyedrops, though. What happened?”

“Pots is an asshole.”

James heaved another sigh. “Getting hit in the eye with a waterbottle lid I may or may not have loosened does not make me an asshole.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t—”

“Shut up, both of you.” A flash of fear slipped up Remus’ spine. I just told two of my heroes to shut up. Forget Sirius, I’m going to die. The room fell silent.

“Oh, I like him,” James said with a grin.

“You’re good to go,” Remus said after a moment longer. “I don’t have anything set up right now, so you should check with Moody and ask for those eyedrops.”

“Merci,” Sirius said as he stood and stretched, batting James’ hands away as they headed back out into the hall. “Don’t touch me, you cretin!”

“Oh, look at me, I use fancy French words,” James mimicked in a high voice.

“It’s not French, dumbass.”

Their bickering continued even after the heavy door closed, leaving Remus alone once again. His pulse raced. An hour into his first day of work, and he had already helped the team. Hell, he had helped The Sirius Black. “This is fucking insane,” he said aloud. “And it’s my job.”

He opened his binder and quickly flipped to the roster. They had some new faces this year and it seemed like half of them had lingering injuries he needed to memorize. Remus would have to know more than just their faces and medical history to make a difference, but he would get there eventually. Maybe it would take a while for them to warm up to him—maybe he would remain Moody’s minion for the rest of his tenure. He would never be part of the team, not really, but looking at that roster…

Well, he could almost believe he was one of them.

#remus lupin #alastor moody #james potter #sirius black #sweater weather #lumosinlove #loops #my fic #fanfic #first day

223 notes · View notes

pixyys · 2 years ago

Text

thou shalt not be sad!

making corny jokes and pick up lines for them

ft. the flags + chuuya + verlaine + adam

notes. romantic/ platonic; possible storm bringer spoilers; huuge thanks to @silverbladexyz for these wonderful pick up lines ♡

art by @/shan_zeze (twt)

LIPPMANN

our little story starts during a time when the flags have the pleasure of gathering together. everyone has been busy with their businesses for quite a while. but they finally get the time to relax and act like normal young men without the burdens and horrors of their line of work.

of course, you are there too! for.. whatever reason you have. no one minds nor questions your presence, so you sit there, simply observing; grinning with a dumbstruck smile at how everyone is happy and enjoying their time.

especially lippmann. you saw his recent movie, the one that blew up on the internet, yeah. he's been flying all over the world for premiers and promotions. even now, he just got back from one of his tours.

"lippmann," you make your way towards the end of the billiard table. "how was europe?"

"europe?" he recovers from his hunched position, the billiard cue still in his hand. "it was quite nice. do you want me to take you when i go on another tour in the future?"

whoa. traveling europe with the lippmann?

"yes please," the response come a bit too eager than you intended. "but won't it be a hassle? was there any quarantine during your latest travel?"

"well, for safety measures-"

"because you can't spell quarantine without U R A Q T."

the room falls silent as those words leave your mouth, save for the ticking of the clock and someone's pool ball falling on the floor.

"ah.. well," lippmann laughs nervously. for a flit moment, burying yourself six feet under sounds like a very tempting escape. but the thought dissipates as the charming actor chuckles, with a very lilting voice and a cute-looking smile that could've made you keel over right there and then.

well, it's lippmann for you.

"i suppose there will still be momentary quarantines since the virus is still around," he continues," after all, you can't spell virus without U and I."

damn.

"oh hell no! not this again!"

something cracks with a horrible crunch, probably chuuya breaking his billiard cue. not sure didn't care. you're too busy gaping at the actor slash mafioso like some dying fish. either way, this dying fish got that world tour free pass! yeah!

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PIANO MAN

looking back, you have no idea how you managed to crawl out from that pit of embarrassment and continue life as usual. maybe your sense of dignity just.. dried out. or you're the kind of person who just rolls with everything. you do you, champ.

your existence and role in the flags is a peculiar one, as peculiar as your personality. a wildcard, if you will. maybe that's why you find yourself helping piano man with those "supernotes" of his.

"say, piano man, do you play the piano?" you ask, mind drifting wistfully as you watch him send away some of his underlings. some others are still waiting for their next order, standing by within the vicinity—you included.

"i don't," he regards your curious question.

"i think you'll be a great pianist."

piano man offers a raise on his brow, "on what ground?" he said.

"i mean, better yet, you can be bae-thoven."

to put it in the most less-heartbreaking sense, his response is both something you definitely expect but nevertheless didn't prepare for. the silence that follows was reminiscent of that time you landed a free tour pass with lippmann, so as the forced laugh that grows from piano man's mouth.

another, painfully awkward silence that comes after it, however; you can't help but reel from it.

"piano man, please, that's the worst possible response," you half-whispered.

"ah, apologies," he simpers, "i suppose.. thank you?"

THAT IS THE WORST POSSIBLE RESPONSE.

the room is dead silent, and it doesn't look like it's because piano man's underlings are too afraid to laugh because of him. no, at this rate, your sense of dignity will really dry out, dissipating out of existence. that is until you saw a glimpse of piano man's subtle smug face.

ah, right. you forgot it was piano man you're up against.

[name]: i showed you my best pickup line pls respond

piano man: no <3

in bitter shame of such pitiful defeat, you toned down your puns ever since. but one time, when you cross paths with your arch nemesis once again, piano man strikes up a conversation.

"about that thing about not being able to play the piano, [name]. i think i'll start learning it."

"oh really?" you turn to him.

but what did he do? he, in turn, closes the distance, leaning his face to your ears, "how about you give me some piano lessons?" he whispers, and you can almost, almost feel his lips lingering on your earlobe.

"we can play all night and make sweet music." you can feel his smile.

you ascended. jaws dropped, eyes popped out, cheeks blushed. you didn't remember if you passed out or dropped dead.

really, it's best to only pick battles you can win.

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ICEMAN

"iceman is it? you seem like a cool guy. i hope we can get along."

iceman knew you're a walking embodiment of a headache the moment you exchange names and shake each other's hands.

he still wonders why he still puts up with your shenanigans. or why he still agreed on helping you do combat practice and friendly spars. all the while trying to not accidentally stab or decapitate you, probably.

he watches you pat down your light bruises, making use of the momentary rest. objectively speaking, you are no weak opponent. sure, he can most likely kill you in your sleep. but at least not without some struggle in your part.

"this place is pretty neat for sparring. like a very comfy practice room," you comment, still holding the shoulder that might have a nasty bruise- or a sprain? he hopes not. iceman wonders if he threw you too hard just now.

"oh! speaking of," you suddenly turn to him, "are you a practice room? because i want you and i hope you're not taken."

mm, no. he really should've thrown you harder.

iceman, once again, questions why he puts up with you. both of you aren't even musicians and you manage to force that line into this context, and for what?

"..iceman?"

he remains passive.

"uh, please laugh?..at least?"

you made it a mental note to not mess with iceman again. poor guy. he still helps you patch up those sparing bruises though, so you should be good👍

‎

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DOC

"sorry, can you help me? i think something's wrong with my eyes."

being sent to the battlefront is tough. guns and fists and knives don't exactly line up with an unscathed body. but you're tougher! and you have your reliable good friend, doc. iceman's training retinue polished you like a coarse diamond grinder, so doc didn't have to do much than patch up minor cuts and scratches.

doc decides to hold back his questions at your remark. instead, choosing to appraise your face- the eye you claim to be 'wrong'. there's a subtle crease on his brow as his hands frame your cheek, trying to observe visible damage on your eye.

of course. even the most skilled doctor wouldn't find anything. your eyes are fine.

"i think, i just can't take them off you." you wink.

doc tilts his head, then blinks.

ha! cute! yet, the silence is starting to get you ptsd from piano man and iceman. you hope it won't be the same case for this doctor man.

he finally nods, as if making up a decision. "does it feel numb? or is it painful?"

"no, i mean-"

"maybe something is wrong with your extraocular muscles. i can open it up and-"

"you know what, don't worry about it," you cut him off, rushing to swat away the current topic. "i think it just healed! that's amazing! i knew you're the best doctor one could ever ask for!"

haha yeah.. better be careful next time. getting your eyes dissected and cut open must not be fun.

‎

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ALBATROSS

you're not saying you have a favorite in the flags, but you're saying you have a favorite in the flags, and that might or might not be albatross. (it's definitely albatross).

he is your true partner in crime, aiding you in your eternal quest to annoy every single living existence (especially chuuya, but don't tell him that). albatross isn't very keen on puns or pickup lines, but he picks up the habit as soon as you start greeting him with those daily doses of corniness.

"morning!" you send the energetic wheelman a lighthearted smile, waving as you pass by the hallways of the headquarters.

"oh, mornin' [name]-"

"do you believe in love at first sight, or should i walk by again?"

by normal standards, a person normally does not start their morning with a badly-placed and badly-formed, relatively corny pickup line. but abiding by normal standards isn't exactly how you roll, and neither does albatross. that moment marked the day the flags must put up with a brand new headache.

"i'm confused… i thought happiness started with an H, but mine seems to start with U."

"life without you is like a broken pencil... totally pointless."

"are you a camera? because every time I look at you, i smile."

"are you a loan? 'cause you've got my interest-"

"alright. i believe that's enough, you two."

it takes piano man a lot to get him to lose his patience, and apparently, you've done abundant. don't worry about chuuya, the little precious bundle of rage is long gone. he knows better than to risk exhausting his voice or accidentally ransacking the whole hideout (lmao).

‎

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ADAM FRANKENSTEIN

you are suffering from success. or winning from failure? these jokes and pickup lines became something of a second nature to your tongue. you can't even remember what you said to this robot- er, supercomputer agent adam frankenstein.

"oh. this is what humans call as puns, also known as paronomasia, a form of wordplay that exploits multiple meanings of a term, or of similar-sounding words, for an intended humorous effect."

"yeah-"

"but yours wasn't funny."

>:0

"w-well," you cough, recovering yourself. "funny isn't the only intention for that pun. it's a punny pick-up line."

adam nods.

"a pick-up line or chat-up line is a conversation opener with the intent of engaging a person for romance or dating. are you trying to woo me?"

"w-wwwhat?"

so, a literal robot just pulled an uno reverse card on you. yet still, that's a good question. are you really trying to woo him?

"i- i thought you'll start making one of those android jokes." you make an unsteady smile.

"my android jokes? of course. they have no slightest intention of expressing romantic expression, so i can make one for you if you wish so."

well. did this tin man just indirectly reject your yet-to-exist confession?

"either way, I am flattered by your attempts. however, i'm afraid that it will be impossible. you are human and i am an autonomous humanoid supercomputer, the first to be used for law enforcement use, adam frankenstein-"

yep. the tin man just directly rejected your yet-to-exist confession. adam just woke up and chose violence. at this point, you're better off going home and curling up in your blanket with some sad love song playlist. you think chuuya winced and made a very pitiful expression for you. but you choose to mark that off as your imagination.

you're here to flex occasional puns and linguistic adeptness. you didn't come here to get yourself absolutely decimated. when life gives you lemons, well, try to not cry too hard..?

‎

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PAUL VERLAINE

for a reason you can't fathom, you somehow end up in verlaine's, chuuya's, and adam's theater of bloodshed.

right here, right now, you're a vanguard on the battlefront. you shouldn't be thinking this. your chest hurts so bad from dodging verlaine's attacks, your limbs are aching from bruises and cuts, your head is spinning with adrenaline, and this french man right here is trying to kill you and kidnap your ginger friend.

but darn, he's fine- you slap yourself.

"you good?" chuuya rasps, struggling to make his step as he flanks your side.

"no, but-" verlaine flings another flying car at you, and muscle memory forces you both to flee from your position, escaping death by a grasp.

well.

this man is merciless, and *cough* attractive. had he not currently trying to throw cars at you, you'd take him to some nice cafe and start serenading him with, uh, sweet words.

huh. might as well.

"damn sir, you have some killer moves!" you roar heartily, uncaring by the way chuuya is eyeing you like an incredulous mother daring her child to do something stupid. "i'd simply die to have you." you wink.

"[NAME], WHAT THE HELL?!"

in that split second, your words seem to catch verlaine in a trance. adam's fancy iron man laser beam almost grazes the french man's shoulder..somehow.

hey, that worked! :D

[name] : chuuya, i think he's french.

chuuya : no shit-

[name] : i think eiffel for him.

chuuya:

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NAKAHARA CHUUYA

this is it. the curtain calls, and it's time to face the final boss. it's time to unleash the ultimate torment to this poor boy.

"woah, don't you look dapper? i always liked your fashion sense. it looks nice on you."

chuuya doesn't immediately answer, opting to silently trace the paved sidewalk you both are treading on. by all means, both of you have no trouble with resources that a personal car, or even a whole limousine won't be impossible. it's just that the moon shines beautifully that night, so you drag your grumpy friend for a breath of fresh air.

"but you know what you'll look better in?" you chuckle, following his steps. "my arms."

nothing. no reaction. no swatting your finger guns, no annoyed and incessant curses. chuuya treats you like a nonexistent ghost, until he halts and simply stares at you with an inexplicable expression.

"chuuya?" you falter, "did- did i go too far?- or did it finally get you? my jokes..?"

oh, it did get him. you got him.

he shifts closer to you, like he finally loses it and is about to choke you to death. but this feels different. there is no malice or raw anger in his movements. they feel.. heavy, tired. wordlessly, he leans his weight on your body, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

his breath is warm against your shoulder; the slight shudder from his long exhale stripped the corny jokes off your tongue.

"oh, chuuya.." you mirror him, putting your arms around him in a reassuring embrace. he is now here, in where you both want him to be: your arms.

some things come, and some things simply go. but some other things just don't change. chuuya is grateful that he can still hear your annoying jokes and lines, and that you are still by his side.

endnotes. man i wish I hadn't hit tumblr's 10 images cap. sorry adam, verlaine, and chuuya </3

(... sorry not sorry chuuya-)

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd flags x reader #bsd adam x reader #verlaine x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader

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silverflame2724 · 3 years ago

Note

Happy Prompt (if you feel like it): WWX being the genius/ex first disciple of great scet that he is realizes they can't sustain the Burial Mounds. So he comes up with a Plan to make them all dissappear. Knowing how important lineage is so them, he asks them to give up the Wen name and take up Wei. (The wens are mostly common folk who just want to live so they agree). He the proceeds to hide them among other clans. People who have met and remember all the good young master Wie always did. He hides them among the Jiang and Nie. (I always head cannon that part of WWX'S flirty reputation comes from him helping women who are in bad situations/ NHS somehow finds out/knows and begins to help him. I figure theyhad to get several Lan women out. Mama Lans ghost helps?). JC knows but ignores it, they aren't WENS anymore, so his pride can leave it be. I'm not sure if A'yuan would still end up with Lan Zhan? But then WWX, WN, and WQ all fake thier deaths and go travel as rogue cultivators. But now WWX has all these living and dead people praying to/for him as the patron Saint of lost causes? And he accidentally becomes an immortal without realizing it? To the absolute fond disgust of WQ, of course. Anyway, I figure old Jin perv still pulls his bullshit at a discussion conference and between NHS, JYL, and LWJ? They somehow clear everyone's nsme. And then newly immortal WWX rocks up in there (to the horror of the Lan Elders who now have to face thier own bullshit/ hypocrisy) and lives happily ever after.

I think I read a prompt or a fic somewhere with the concept of the Wens hiding in plain sight.

________________________

The thought came to him out of nowhere.

It had been a peaceful day with the Wens as he farmed, invented and tinkered with various incomplete contraptions when Wei Wuxian was struck with a thought: they could not continue like this.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t an idiot. He knew that they couldn’t sustain themselves in the Burial Mounds. Their crops hardly prospered, one by one the more elderly individuals of the Wens got sick and died, the resentful energy messed with everyone’s temperament, the cultivators never stopped trying to break his wards.....the list went on and on.

He had to come up with a plan. He thought they could live here for a time, but that was just wishful thinking.

With this in mind, he takes the next few days to come up with a concrete plan.

...............................

The first task, and perhaps the most important one, is to ask the Wens to give up the Wen name. It would be easier from then on.

As he presented this suggestion, he was surprised by how readily they agreed. He knew how important lineage was to them, so the rapidness of them giving up their name was shocking.

“Would you......take up my name?” Wei Wuxian asked quietly.

The Wens were silent before cheering. Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to react to this. The Wens told him that they were more than happy to accept his name since they were his family.

Wei Wuxian held back the tears and laughed happily instead as he went on to tell him the next plan of action: hiding them in plan sight.

Various people from various clans owed him favors and remembered the good in him, as they were more than happy to take on the refugees he hid away now that they were no longer Wens.

They had to do this quietly and slowly though. It would be suspicious if a large group of people suddenly left Yiling all at once. So Wei Wuxian took each of them to different places. Some of them went back to their original homes, some went to the Nie, some to the Yao, some to the Ouyang clan.

He even sends some to the small village of women who he helped run away from their horrible home situations.

It was a little tricky with Nie, but Nie Huaisang pulls through and Nie Mingjue suspects nothing.

He sends some to the Jiang and Jiang Cheng grudgingly accepts them, knowing that they are no longer Wen.

And for A’ Yuan.......He sends A’ Yuan to Lan Zhan, who is familiar with A’ Yuan. Wei Wuxian sends a letter to Lan Zhan asking him to meet and instead of appearing, A’ Yuan is there in his stead. The letter to Lan Zhan details what to do with A’ Yuan and to hide his identity.

Wei Wuxian trusts that Lan Zhan would take his suggestion and tell his brother and uncle that A’ Yuan was a child that Lan Zhan was asked to take care of by a dying mother.

Wei Wuxian watches from afar as Lan Zhan takes A’ Yuan away and takes the last step in ensuring that the cultivation world forgets him: He fakes his, Wen Qing’s and Wen Ning’s deaths. There’s enough corpses in the Burial Mounds and ones with their physique to replace the Wens and him. He gossips to the town that he’s going to destroy his weapon, the Seal, and subsequently fakes an explosion of resentment, quickly disappearing with the Wen siblings to a random direction.

He always thought how nice it would be to be like his parents and be rogue cultivators. He guesses that he’ll find out now.

..................................

Years pass and Wei Wuxian makes decent salary by taking care of monsters in the area. Wen Qing is a doctor, of course, and Wen Ning becomes her assistant.

They move to a little village near Dongying and settle down there. The people there a little more open to demonic cultivation and dark arts and don’t bat an eye at Wei Wuxian using such means.

Wei Wuxian invents more contraptions, selling them under a false name in towns far away from Dongying.

One day, on a chance night hunt near Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian hears whispers and gossip about Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli clearing his name and capturing the actual people responsible.

He’s happy to hear this. Overjoyed. But that doesn’t mean he’ll gladly return to the cultivation world. He’s had enough of that life.

He walks around town for a bit longer, catching bits of gossip here and there. As explores the town, wine jug in hand, he nearly chokes around a mouthful of wine as he sees a small shrine encasing a statue of his likeness. What.....the hell??

He quickly asks around and finds out that people are praying to him for protection. Wei Wuxian squirms a little at this, glad he’s wearing a weimao to cover his face.

All of this...praying makes him uncomfortable. Not long ago, people were spitting on his name and now he’s suddenly become some sort of Patron for protection? The change is remarkable and cements Wei Wuxian’s decision to firmly stay out of the cultivation world.

People’s opinions change like a tide and Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to stick around long enough for them to switch back. He sighs, disposing of his empty jug, and leaves the town.

.......

Surprisingly, that’s not the end of the changes.

He got careless on a night hunt and ends up with the claw of a yaoguai piercing him all the way through his stomach. When the yaoguai pulled out its claw, though......Wei Wuxian healed quickly. Too quickly.

He recovers from the shock at this and finishes off the yao.

What just happened?

A quick trip to Wen Qing answered everything.

“Congratulations.” Wen Qing says dryly. “You’re an immortal.”

“........What.”

Wen Qing sighs, “From what you told me, you healed unnaturally quickly, right?”

Wei Wuxian nods.

“There have only been records of immortals recovering that quickly. Even Wen Ruohan healed slower than you did.”

“But I don’t have a core???”

“You do. Sort of.” Wen Qing replies. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t you felt it.”

“.....” I mean, I did think it was odd that I didn’t freeze to death in the winter or die of hunger when money became tight over these years, but I thought those were side effects of demonic cultivation! Wei Wuxian quickly goes through the motions of feeling for his core, willing the surge of hope he felt down.

And he......didn’t feel a core. He felt more of a large mass of energy congregated in his dantian.

Wei Wuxian is glad that he is sitting down right now because he feels very faint. “But.....this......how?”

“Hmm. Well, from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve become some sort of Patron Saint?” Wei Wuxian nods. “It’s rare, but cultivators can gain power from prayers. Take Wen Ruohan for example.”

“He became powerful through the same means?”

“Yes. Well, his people believed him to be all powerful, not so much as what people are praying to you. As the Sunshot alliance chipped down on his people, so too did they chip down on Wen Ruohan’s power.”

“So if people stop praying to me, I’ll stop being immortal.”

“Yes and no. Right now, there’s just a mass of energy concentrated there. It’s basically unrefined energy. All you have to do is refine that power into a core and cultivate normally. Otherwise, yes. You will lose this power as soon as people stop praying to you.”

“I see.......”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow and brandishes her needles. “What are you doing just sitting here? Go and cultivate!”

“Aiya, Qing-jie! I’m in shock here, give me a moment to absorb this all!”

“I have patients to see! Get your ass to your room and cultivate!”

“Are you my mom or something?”

Wen Qing’s expression turns thunderous.

Wei Wuxian didn’t want to provoke her any further despite wanting to banter more and left to his room.

..................................

“You should visit your siblings.” Wen Qing says one day. “And Hanguang-Jun. I want to hear about how A’ Yuan is doing.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Wei Wuxian.” Wen Qing says patiently. “It’s been over a decade. Your name and our name has long since been cleared. People no longer hate you. And.....they miss you. Your siblings have commemorated the day you “died” and go into mourning for that day. Hanguang-Jun is a little subtler but he wears a mourning sash now.”

“They’ll be better off without me.”

“Says who?”

“The rest of the world.” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“And why should you care for their opinion? You never seemed to mind it.”

“Ummm.....Lan Zhan hates me? Jiang Cheng might resent me? And Shij---Jiang-guniang---the Young Madam Jin has a life already.”

“First, if Hanguang-Jun hates you, why would he frequently glare at people who badmouthed you?”

“Because he’s a good person. How do you know this anyway?”

“I have friends. Try again. Hanguang-Jun is a famously reticent person. Would he do this for every person?”

“.........I don’t know.”

“The answer is no.”

Wei Wuxian pouts.

Wen Qing then begins to tell him how Jiang Cheng frequently takes demonic cultivators back with him in hopes that one of them would be Wei Wuxian and even added Wei Wuxian back to the Jiang sect register. Jiang Yanli smiles while ruthlessly talking people into apologizing every time she hears something bad said about Wei Wuxian.

She even lectures him on his feelings towards Lan Wangji, that he would entrust A’ Yuan to him.

Wen Qing closes off her speech with threats of her needles if Wei Wuxian doesn’t get his ass over there.

“There’s a Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian, wait till they’re done and go meet them.”

Wei Wuxian, sufficiently threatened, hightails it back to what was his home.

.......

Wei Wuxian also decidedly forgets that he was supposed to wait for the Conference to end. Well, he had assumed that they would be done considering the empty state of the area in front of the conference room and stupidly bursts through the door to a room full of people.

Wei Wuxian blinks, “Uhh......”

“Wei Wuxian?!”

“Wei Ying?!”

“A’ Xian?!”

Wei Wuxian tittered from side to side, “Hello, all! I bet you thought I was dead! Well, you guessed wrong! Hahaha......”

..............................

Lan Wangji did not know what this time’s discussion conference would be like. He expected Jin Guangshan to try and subtly slander Wei Ying. He expected Jiang Yanli, Jiang Wanyin and himself to stand up for Wei Ying, as he was unable to do before Wei Ying died.

But he certainly didn’t expect Wei Ying, who he thought was dead, burst into the room.

Everyone was silent as soon as they heard Wei Ying speak, but soon burst into a cacophony of noise.

Continuing the Discussion Conference was futile after that and it was quickly closed. Lan Wangji watched Wei Ying be surrounded by many people, some crying, some happily angry, some exasperated and he couldn’t help his reaction after seeing him once again.

He rushes forward and hugs him.

“Wha--Lan Zhan?”

“You’re alive.” Lan Wangji breathes, voice full of wonder. “You’re alive.”

Wei Ying’s arms come up around him and Lan Wangji feels the strong heart beat through their robes. His elders yell at him for his shamelessness and he comes back to himself, embarrassed at his lack of control.

“Aww, Lan Zhan! I’m so glad you missed me!”

“Mn. Missed Wei Ying a lot.”

A slight blush rose to Wei Ying’s cheeks and he laughed, a little shy. Lan Wangji couldn’t help his response to hearing his laugh again after so, so long. He kissed him.

The crowd gasped around them and Lan Wangji pulled back quickly, wanting the ground to swallow him up. But then......Wei Ying kissed him back.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. How bold of you! To steal a kiss from me in public!” He giggles, not seeming mad at all and even pressing forward, tangling his fingers in his forehead ribbon.

Lan Wangji’s breath stutters at the gesture.

“You’d better take responsibility!”

Is Wei Ying asking what I think he’s asking? “Responsibility?”

“Yes! You took a kiss from me in public! It looks like I can’t marry anymore.”

“Will marry Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji replies, voice hoarse, ignoring the cries of outrage from his elders, the angry shouts from Jiang Wanyin, and the smirks from Jiang Yanli and his brother. “Will take responsibility.”

“I hope that isn’t the only reason.”

This is his chance to come clean. Lan Wangji already told himself that he wouldn’t hold himself back if he met Wei Ying again. “Like Wei Ying. Love Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying laughs brightly. “I like Lan Zhan too. Now, you’ll finally admit we’re close?”

Lan Wangji ignores everyone, eyes only on Wei Ying as they should have always been, “Mn. Let’s get married.”

___________________________

I feel like Lan Wangji may be a bit OOC......hmm. Well, whatever. I finally got this done and with that, I think I’ve cleared all the prompts I haven’t answered, so asks will open up again!

Hope you all enjoyed this!

#wei ying #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #wen qionglin #lan zhan #lan wangji #wen remnants #lan yuan #canon divergent au #wei wuxian hides the wen remnants #immortal wei wuxian #fluff #confessions #JYL and NHS and LWJ clear WWX and the Wen remnants' names #this is only happy #I hope

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