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bronx-bomber87 · 1 year ago

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Mid Week Review. Was able to watch the ep last night and jot down my thoughts. After this one only have 5 left in S1. Wild. Off we go.

1x15 Manhunt

The cold open is too funny. The "commercial" is hilarious LOL Poor Lucy struggled the most in it with her lines. They all find out they were pranked and it wasn't real. Lucy looking back and getting that reaction from Tim. I am dying haha Lucy is so embarrassed and slightly mortified. Not Tim he’s having a good time with this haha

Once again enjoying himself far too much at her displeasure hehe Who is this man? Not the Tim she had in very beginning that's for sure. Making jokes, being a goober, and laughing with the other T.O.'s having a grand old time. She really did this to herself ha I love it so much. I mean look at this man and his beautiful smile. He is having a blast and it shows. Truly a wonder to behold I gotta say.

Ep kicks off strong. There is a prison escape from a transport bus so Tim and Lucy are on the hunt. They round up one guy right away. Make quite the entrance saying there is only 6 left. I love this shot for the height difference between them. Always loved their tall/small thing. Makes me happy. I can't really explain why other than it does.

Afterwards they are assigned inside the search grid canvassing neighborhoods and such. Telling people who are out to stay indoors for now. They run into a little neighborhood militia not long after. They say they’re defending their neighborhood. The body language they both give to these dopes LOL. It's too damn good. If they could eye roll any harder with how they react to them they would haha These idiots try and do a citizens arrest for a gardener. Tim and Lucy both lay into them like a tag team. Getting them to back off and beat it. So fun to watch honestly.

Tim ends it with telling them if they see them out again they’ll get arrested. Cracks me up Lucy calls him on what the codes he used to scare them. She just can't help herself. Tim making jokes and being a sassy pants with her I adore it. Her little smile at him when he says ‘They don’t know that.’ it’s a theme in this one for Lucy. Just looking at Tim with smiles/heart eyes. I’m here for it.

Feds are involved much to Tim's dismay. Using their tactics to locate the remaining escaped prisoners. Everyone splits off after their debrief with them. Lucy and Tim go back to station to meet up with an informant of Tim’s. Says he'll know about one of the escaped convicts. Used to be in the gang the 54 who this prisoner is currently affiliated with. As they're walking up to meet his informant Lucy is asking about predictive analytics. It was brought up earlier in their meeting and Tim disagreed with its method.

So of course Lucy is going to probe more about it. Tim explains how it’s not as good as hitting the streets. That Feds rather use a computer than scuff their loafers. He’s so passionate about what he does and how he does things in patrol. Just look at her face above while he’s explaining why his way better than the fed's computer. She knows it’s something he’ll fiercely defend. Something he takes seriously and a little personally.

It’s why when Lucy tries to play devils advocate on the subject he asks her who’s side she’s on? Clearly not pleased with her defending this computer vs what he considers real police work. Lucy has learned where to pick her battles with Tim. She knows when to push something and when not to. This was not one of them. Lucy is adorable and says she didn’t know there were sides...but she’s on his definitely his LOL damn they cute.

Lucy instantly likes Deacon because he’s apart of Tim’s past. Something she has very little insight into other than Isabel. So she’s all over it when Deacon tells her he knew Tim when he was a rookie. Tim isn't loving this conversation. Its like the sign at the zoo. 'Don't feed the animals.' How Tim is feeling with this interaction haha He's putting up a sign says 'Don't feed Lucy details.' haha Deacon tells Tim that he likes her. Tim rolls his eyes and says he’s ‘Thrilled.’ You know you are sir. He’s proud of Lucy and the fact she's his rookie. Don't lie Timothy. Deacon continues by saying every time he see's Tim it's like a time machine for him.

I do adore Tim’s reaction when Deacon says only thing that's changed is the lines on his face. He's slightly offended by this. I love the way he looks at Lucy. Like checking in she still thinks he’s a handsome man. It’s ok love, you very much are. Just look at the heart eyes she’s giving you. Case and point above and below.

Also Lucy, girl you are at work. Put those things away madam haha She’s as transparent as glass and makes my heart happy. If her goal is to hide her attraction/admiration she is failing pretty hard lmao Like an open book this one. I do think she is really enjoying this guy razzing him so much. Just like Tim at the beginning of the episode she is relishing in his discomfort. What a pair these two.

Tim has a small talk with Angela before they leave. Asking if he’s changed at all since she’s met him. He's clearly more shaken up from his convo with Deacon then he originally lead on. Angela makes a crack and says he’s gotten more annoying. Ha poor Tim. He asks her to be more serious. She replies the Isabel situation changed him. He asks her if its for the better or not? Breaks my heart he doesn’t see the changes in himself. But he is seeing/sensing he needs to change something up though. Angela's reply to this all is the best part. This line right here is my fav of the scene.

Since he met Lucy Chen, Angela. Ever since he met her. Does things he never did before. Like this introspection. Before he would've shrugged that convo off. Buried it deep inside like he did everything else before. Put it in a little box never to be opened again. With her influence in his life he takes that convo little more to heart. Tim has no idea the amount he’s changed just from knowing her. The small things that if you’re not paying attention you’d miss. S1 has been incredible growth for his character.

I do love Angela's last shot at him as Tim and Lucy are leaving. That sweet little smile he gives when he hears Angela’s reply. I’ve always loved their friendship. She truly is one of his best friends. This scene is a good display of that. Of them being close. Being serious when needed but mainly giving each other shit haha Lucy looks confused but not unhappy he’s happy.

Tim and Lucy arrive at the house of Tim's informant. He’s currently protecting the prisoner they talked about. Unfortunately the gang he’s pissed off is waiting for them upon arrival. Nolan’s situation with his fugitive has taken most of their resources. So it’s just them against a whole gang to protect his informant and the prisoner. Lucy starts to get nervous when the gang begins wrecking their shop. Tim makes a joke it'll be a lot of paperwork for her. Lucy doesn't bite at the joke. You can see how nervous she is. She asks if at some point they give the 54 what they want. Weighing one life against the lives of many. Do they need to make that hard call?

Tim's reply is excellent. That strong sense of justice shining through in this moment. He can see Lucy isn't comfortable with their odds at all. Has to remind her like he did back in 1x11. That this is their job. What they signed up for. He's doing what he does best with her. Being her pillar while also injecting logic into the scenario they are currently in. He can sense her unease and is trying to alleviate it.

What I love most about this scene is Tim’s moral compass and bravery. It’s something Lucy most definitely likes as well. Also what she needs at this point in time. She's in awe of him when she says You’re willing to die for that guy? It’s in her inflection. She’s so impressed he would be willing to lay down his life for him. His reply to her cements this even further. The way he delivers his line. Phew lord. I think Lucy just fell a little more in love with him right here. She already been giving him heart eyes all day. This increased them ten fold. The way he stands up and lets Lucy see that confidence. How he refuses to let the 54 shake his resolve. He won’t let fear dictate what he knows is right.

The awe struck wonder in her eyes for him. My goodness. Earlier Angela brought up how Tim has grown since Isabel. This is further proof of that. He won’t ever allow fear to let him do something he would be ashamed of in the light of day. Amazing how much he's grown since that moment in 1x07. When his moral compass is on fire like it is right now, I think Lucy’s respect/admiration (and honestly her attraction) grows the most for Tim.

She’s getting a peak into Tim at his core. Who he is as a person. You can tell she very much likes what she sees. Nothing more attractive than a man with a plan and strong in his convictions IMO. Also who is confident in what he’s doing. Lucy needs to see that right now as she is rattled by the uneven numbers in their situation.

Deacon decides to go out and talk to them. They start to beat him up. Tim tells Lucy to stay inside. To protect their prisoner at all costs no matter what happens to him. Tim goes out to reason with the gang. To take the heat off Deacon and onto himself. Eventually the calvary shows up for them. Tim gets to look like a bad ass when they do. The way he says he’s never alone or out numbered. *fans self* always love me some confident Tim. I’ll take that all damn day.

This look between them speaks volumes. It shows the trust and bond that’s been built between them. She was worried and rightfully so but he kept her calm. He was steadfast for them both and she trusted in that. Leaned on him. She knew he would get them out of this situation and he did. That nod of his is Tim’s way of acknowledging all that. Thanking her for trusting him. That beautiful unspoken connection is on full display in this moment. Lucy is beaming from that nod. I love them so much. The ep ends for them there as far as scenes together go.

Tim's final scene is in Grey's office. That introspection Tim does leads him to decide to go for Sergeant. Says he's ready to take that next step. Grey asks what took him so long haha Lets him know it's going to require a lot of studying to prep. I LOVE this. We all know what moment this leads to. The impact Lucy has on his life is so immense. Lead him down this path. Makes me happy.

Always thank you all for your likes/comments/reblogs. These reviews are so fun for me to do. Even more so knowing others are enjoying it as well. See you all in 1x16 :)

#Caitlin rewatches The Rookie #chenford #chenford hiatus #summer rewatch #waiting on s6 #s1 #1x15 Manhunt #the rookie #tim x lucy #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #eric winter #melissa o'neil #otp: doing my job #tim bradford x lucy chen

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c-e-d-dreamer · 2 years ago

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Falling For Your Fools Gold: Chapter 4

A/N: And we’re back babyyyy! Excited to get back into all my chapter WIPs but especially excited to get back to sexy, pirate Cassian ;) Hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Also, I like to imagine Fifth Harmony’s That’s My Girl playing in Cassian’s head at the beginning here. Trigger warning for injuries and blood.

Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

“One. Two. One. One. Two.”

Nesta follows along to Baz’s instructions, hitting her closed fists against his palms in the combinations he calls out. Even with the linen wrapped around her knuckles, she can feel every punch, but in these past few days, she’s started to relish the ache there, pride swelling deep in her gut as she continues to learn more, continues to grow her own strength. Every bruise, every split knuckle is proof of how far she’s come, how many steps she’s taken away from that rigidity, that expectation that society forced upon her from a too young age, that darkness trapped in the corners of her family’s manor house in Adriata. It’s certainly not how Nesta imagined breaking free and finding her freedom, certainly not how she expected it, but she’s not complaining.

Baz swings his arm across and toward Nesta, but she’s quick to duck out of the way just as she’s been taught. She stands back to her full height, keeping her arms up as she returns to the punch sequence. Another swing of his arm and Baz starts to walk Nesta back across the deck of the ship. She stays light on her feet, moving and dodging and punching until Baz finally drops his hands back to his side with a wide smile.

“Nice,” Baz tells her, shaking out his hands. “I think we can officially declare you’ve mastered hand to hand.”

“Really?” Nesta asks, already feeling excitement building at the prospect of finally graduating to using her dagger.

“I don’t know, Baz. Perhaps she should really test it first.”

Nesta doesn’t even bother swallowing down her sigh or holding back her eye roll. She had hoped that after spending a large sum of Cassian’s money at the market when they were in port, he might finally leave her alone, that they could have some tentative, albeit separate peace between them, but of course things are never that simple.

Instead, Cassian has quietly watched each of Nesta’s sessions with Baz. Most days, he doesn’t say anything, but Nesta will always feel his eyes on her, his gaze burning a wildfire across her skin. Other days, he’ll offer small comments or critiques, and on the rare occasion, he’ll guide Nesta’s movements again. And all the while, Baz will simply stand by looking amused.

Like now.

The first mate in question currently has his lips pressed together, but it does nothing to hide the smirk he’s desperately trying to bite down. His brown eyes practically twinkle with amusement as he watches over Nesta’s shoulder, and Nesta is half tempted to put all her new skills to work, punching him in the face as well as the annoying pirate captain behind her.

“What do you say, princess?” Cassian continues, and even without looking, Nesta can hear that stupid grin dripping from his tone. “Are you up for a little sparring?”

Nesta huffs, but she turns around to face Cassian properly, settling him with her coldest, most unimpressed stare. “Fine, but only because it will give me an opportunity to knock you on your ass.”

“That’s not very ladylike,” Cassian teases, his eyes alight with amusement, but he raises his arms and gets into a fighting stance.

Nesta mirrors Cassian’s stance, her eyes quickly sweeping over his frame, accessing for any tells of what he might do, any weaknesses she might be able to exploit. Cassian circles around her slowly. It’s reminiscent of their first meeting, when he had done the same thing in her cabin on her father’s ship. It already feels like so long ago. Like another life, like a dream. Although, Nesta is beginning to wonder if that life or this one is the nightmare in the end.

Nesta moves in a circle with Cassian, keeping her steps careful so he won’t be able to catch her off balance, so her feet don’t get tangled. She doesn’t miss the way his gaze glances down quickly to her feet, the impressed face he makes. She opens her mouth, a dry remark already poised and ready on the tip of her tongue, but it’s the opening Cassian’s been waiting for. His arm swings out, and Nesta just barely blocks the hit.

Cassian continues the offense, swinging punches in quick succession. Nesta retreats back and away, but he’s quick to follow. As Cassian steps forward to keep up his onslaught, Nesta decides to take advantage of his unbalanced stance, spinning and ducking under his outstretched arm. Unfortunately, she’s only able to land one punch against Cassian’s side before he’s turning as well, blocking her next attempt. He sweeps Nesta’s feet out from under her, and she falls hard against the wood of the deck.

Despite the pain splintering out at the impact, Nesta feels more determined than ever. She jumps up to her feet, and goes on the offense herself, swinging punches until it’s Cassian that’s retreating. She takes advantage of his imbalance again, but this time, she shoves at his chest hard. Cassian goes tumbling back, but his fingers curl around Nesta’s wrist and he pulls her down with him until they both go sprawling across the deck. Nesta is quick to scramble up, straddling Cassian’s chest to pin him down and pressing her forearm against his throat.

“Yield,” Nesta tells him, her voice hard despite the way her chest heaves from the exertion.

“I think you’re the one who needs to yield, Nes.”

Nesta blinks in confusion at Cassian’s words, at the smirk pulled firmly across his face, but rather than say anything more, Cassian merely glances down. Nesta follows his gaze and notices the metal glinting in his hand, the dagger now poised against her abdomen. It takes Nesta’s mind a moment to catch up, to understand exactly what she’s seeing but then her head snaps back up to glare at Cassian.

“You cheated,” Nesta declares, her anger only growing as Cassian continues to smirk unfazed. “It was meant to be hand to hand sparring.”

“I’m sure Baz taught you the first rule of fighting, that there’s no such thing as a fair fight, especially when you’re fighting a pirate.”

Nesta lets out a frustrated growl, shoving off of him. “We go again. A rematch.”

Cassian chuckles, standing up as well and making a big show of dusting off his clothes. “You’re on, sweetheart.”

Nesta resets back into her fighting stance, waiting for Cassian to raise his hands and mirror her. He gives a small nod to indicate he’s ready, and Nesta doesn’t bother waiting for him to make the first move, doesn’t bother staying on the defense. Her anger and frustration feel like a beast writhing deep in her gut, chomping at the bit to be released and desperate for a taste of blood. She throws punches and kick combinations in quick succession, every smack against him sparking within her, every blow landed fanning those flames.

For all that Nesta thinks she has the upper hand, though, Cassian spins them around, knocking Nesta off both her balance and her focus. He wraps his arms around her, holding her back against his chest and pinning her arms to her side. She tries to wriggle free, tries to find enough space that she can make a counter attack, but his hold is firm, his strength clearly outmatching hers.

“Do you yield?” Cassian asks lowly, his breath fanning out hotly against Nesta’s skin.

Nesta lets out a huff, opening her mouth to begrudgingly agree before his words from earlier clang around her mind, an idea quickly forming. She arches her back against him, and with Cassian’s mouth still pressed near her ear, she can hear the way his breath hitches at the gesture. She turns her head to face him, looking up through her lashes and making a big show of glancing toward his lips. As she slowly starts to lean in, she can feel Cassian’s grip finally relaxing.

Once she has the space enough to move, Nesta picks her leg up and stomps her heel down hard against Cassian’s foot, slamming her elbow back into his abdomen. The pirate captain lets out a shout of alarm, but Nesta spins out of his hold and faces him. A hard shove to his chest sends him stumbling back and falling against the deck once again, but this time, Nesta makes sure she steps back before he can latch onto her wrist with his hands.

Nesta walks over to Cassian, pressing her foot against his chest and pinning him down, offering him a smirk of her own. “How’s that for unfair?”

A loud laugh comes from Nesta’s right before Baz pretends to be coughing instead. Nesta expects Cassian to glare at his first mate at the response, but instead his smile is wide as he blinks up at Nesta, and she swears she sees pride twinkling amongst the golds of his hazel eyes.

“I think she’s officially ready for weapons training.”

~ * * * ~

On the fifth day of learning the skills and particulars of the sword with Baz, Nesta steps onto the main deck to find not just the first mate waiting for her, but another pirate as well. It doesn’t take long for Nesta to recognize him as the pirate whose gaze always follows her around the ship with that distrustful look in them. The same gaze he watches her with as she approaches. It has Nesta’s hand anxiously and instinctually going to the hilt of the sword that now sits at her hip.

“Nesta,” Baz greets with that same easy smile he always wears. “I hope you’re ready for today’s lesson.”

“Yes,” Nesta answers cautiously, her eyes glancing toward the other pirate once again.

“I’ve taught you all I really can, and you know practicing makes perfect,” Baz explains after following Nesta’s questioning gaze. “Kallon’s the best swordsman on the ship, so he’s agreed to spar with you.”

“I don’t think he cares for me,” Nesta leans in to whisper to Baz, hoping not to be overheard by Kallon, but judging by the snort from the pirate in question, she wasn’t successful.

“It’s not personal,” Baz offers, his voice quiet as well. “Kallon is just superstitious.”

Nesta continues to eye Kallon dubiously at that, quite confident that it’s more than just his superstition about women on ships, but she doesn’t say anything more on the subject. Baz walks her through a few stretches to start, and then she and Kallon are facing off, swords raised between them.

For a moment, Nesta swears she can see the deep brown of Kallon’s eyes darken, that his mouth quirks up just that smallest bit, but before she can dwell on it, he’s stepping forward and swinging his sword. Nesta is quick to deflect, knocking Kallon’s swing to the right and away from her body, but then the pirate is lunging forward again.

Baz certainly wasn’t kidding about Kallon being a skilled swordsman. His movements are quick and every attack of his sword is filled with enough force that each time Nesta deflects, each time her sword clashes with his, the vibrations shake all the way up her arm. It also means that Nesta spends the entire fight on the defense, never once having an opportunity to advance on him.

As the fight continues to go on, Nesta can feel herself growing more and more tired. Sweat beads along her brow, her chest heaving as she tries to keep up against Kallon’s onslaught of attacks. Her arm feels heavy, the weight of the sword leaving her muscles trembling slightly as she tries to keep it held up. She turns her head back toward Baz, ready to relent and ask that they call it quits for today, but then there’s a sharp pain along her side.

“Kallon! What the fuck?”

Nesta’s sword drops back down to her side. Confused and shocked, she looks down, surprised to find a long tear in her blouse along her ribs, red already beginning to seep in and ruin the white fabric. She presses her hand against the cut, wincing at the pain that ricochets through her body, that radiates from that spot. Her fingers tremble even more when she pulls her hand away and takes in the blood staining her skin.

Her heart pounds in her chest, her ears ringing, and it’s only when a firm hand squeezes at her shoulder, when she looks up and finds Baz’s face right in front of her, that Nesta realizes he was speaking with her. His eyes are swimming with concern, his lips pressed firmly in a frown, as he moves his hand to put pressure against her wound.

“We need to get you to Wiley. Are you okay to walk?” Baz asks, but suddenly Nesta’s mind feels too sluggish, words too far for her to reach. “Nesta.”

Nesta swallows hard, but she offers the pirate a nod. Or her best attempt at a nod. Baz settles Nesta’s arm across his shoulders, gently wrapping his own arm around her waist, and the two of them head below deck. Baz leads them into the makeshift medical cabin, Wiley quickly clearing space for Nesta to lay down. Nesta can’t swallow down her wince as Wiley peels back the fabric of her blouse, pushing it up and away so he can work. He wipes at the gash with a wet piece of cloth then quickly presses another piece of cloth against the wound.

“Hold the pressure,” Wiley instructs Baz, the first mate stepping closer to do just that.

Nesta squeezes her eyes shut, unable to watch as Wiley starts to thread surgical thread through a needle. Already her stomach starts to roil at the implication, her nervousness spiking. She’s never been particularly good when it comes to this sort of thing. Nesta can still remember that time Feyre had fallen out of a tree and seriously injured her arm when they were children.

A shuffle of feet has Nesta’s eyes opening again, and when she turns her head, she finds Cassian now standing in the doorway. His expression is stormy, hazel eyes hard and mouth pinched tightly in a frown. But his gaze doesn’t look toward Nesta, instead it’s pinned to Baz.

“Who?” Cassian asks, a dark promise lacing his voice.

“Kallon,” Baz answers quietly.

Cassian doesn’t say anything more, merely turns on his heel and leaves the cabin. Nesta watches him go, her eyes lingering on the doorway even after he’s vanished from view, and she considers asking Baz what exactly the pirate captain intends to do. But before she can, Wiley steps back over, and Nesta’s stomach drops as her attention is once again drawn back to what’s coming. At the first pinch of the needle against her skin, all Nesta can do is squeeze her eyes shut and focus on her breathing.

After Wiley has stitched, covered her wound, and given her some sort of herbal concoction for the pain, Baz helps Nesta back to her cabin so she can rest. She grabs one of her newly purchased books and curls up with it on the bed, wincing at the stretch and pain in her side until she’s able to find a comfortable position. She only makes it three chapters before the exhaustion of the day starts to weigh down her limbs as surely as it makes her eyelids feel heavy. The book slips from her fingers and into the blankets, and soon, Nesta is giving in to sleep’s siren song.

She’s awoken by the sound of clattering against wood. She blinks her eyes open, and it takes her a few moments to adjust to the sudden darkness of the room, just the candlelight casting the whole space in a soft, orange glow. Her mind still feels foggy with the remnants of sleep clinging to it, her limbs still sluggish and heavy. The whole thing leaves her feeling disorientated, having no idea how long she was sleeping.

She finds Cassian standing over by the desk, a bowl and plate of bread in front of him seeming to be the culprit of the clatter. As if he can feel Nesta’s eyes on him, he turns his head to meet her gaze. The candlelight leaves his face cut in shadows, draws emphasis to the scar on his cheek and through his eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Cassian offers quietly. “I just wanted to make sure you ate something.”

Cassian picks up the dishes and walks over toward the bed, holding them out for Nesta to take. She reaches out and does just that, but her eyes catch on Cassian’s hands. His knuckles are split, dried blood smeared across the skin there. The sight has Nesta’s breath catching. Part of her wants to ask, wants to hear Cassian say the words she knows would come, but she swallows them down.

With a muttered thanks, Nesta settles the dishes in her lap, picking through the fruit and cheese before deciding to tear off a piece of bread and nibbling on that. She can still feel the licking flames of Cassian’s intense gaze on her, but when she glances up, his eyes aren’t on her face, but pinned to her side.

“It’s probably best to change to a fresh bandage, just to be safe,” Cassian explains, reaching out his hand before he seems to catch himself. “May I?”

Nesta nods her head, scooting forward on the bed to give him better access and lifting the hem of her blouse. Cassian unwinds the cloth Wiley had tied around her waist with careful fingers, and Nesta tries and fails to bite back a wince when he pulls the cloth away from her skin. She turns her head away, not particularly interested in seeing what she’s sure is still a nasty wound, but thankfully, Cassian doesn’t comment on her squeamishness. He merely steps over to the basin of water and soaks a cloth in it.

His hands are surprisingly gentle as he slides the wet cloth over the affected area, his fingers slow and careful. He cleans the wound with such tenderness that Nesta finds herself looking toward him in surprise, but Cassian keeps his head bowed. His hair falls forward against his shoulders, scraping against his temples and framing his face. His eyebrows are drawn low, hazel eyes flickering in the candlelight even as they stayed focused on the task at hand.

As if he can feel Nesta’s gaze on him, Cassian looks up, his hand stilling as their eyes meet.

“Does it hurt still?” Cassian asks, his voice quiet. “I can ask Wiley for more tea for the pain.”

“It’s alright. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

The comment has Cassian frowning, his lips parting and a question seemingly poised on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. He steps away from Nesta, setting down the cloth he used to clean her wound and grabbing a fresh, dry one. He wraps the fresh cloth around Nesta’s waist, her skin prickling with each pass of his fingers against it. The feeling soon morphs into another wince, though, when he ties a knot directly over the wound, keeping the pressure tight.

“Thank you,” Nesta tells him, tugging her blouse back down.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Cassian replies, washing his hands and then his face in the water basin.

Nesta nods, but there’s a part of her that feels like she does, a part of her that wants to thank him for more than just helping to clean her wound. It’s a voice that goads and whispers in the back of her mind, reminding her of the freedom she’s found on this ship despite being a prisoner. If she can even still call herself a prisoner at this point. It reminds her that she’s been given the opportunity to learn to fight, allowed to truly be herself with no one to reprimand her for sharing her opinion or being too harsh with her words. There’s no more societal shackles nor fresh scars; at least, not the scars born from the shadows that still seemed to lurk in every corner of that manor house even after her grandmother and mother had passed.

The words weigh heavy on Nesta’s tongue, pressing against her windpipe until a lump is lodged firmly in her throat, but she can’t seem to squeeze them out. She can’t find the way to thank Cassian for what he’s unknowingly gifted her by bringing her onto his ship. The idea of thanking a pirate, thanking the infamous Lord of Bloodshed for that matter, is terrifying.

But even more terrifying still, is just how much Nesta would mean it.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @cassiansbigwingspan @unlikelypersonalknight1 @blurredlamplight

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #pirates au #my fic

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moodymisty · 2 years ago

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Hi! So I may or may not be the anon that requested the helmet kink ask not too long ago and I couldn’t get it out of my head! 🙈🤍 you’re writing is just so dang good!!

I was wondering if you had anything in the works for the best big boy, Wrecker? I feel like there just isn’t enough love out there for that big ol’ softie and he deserves to be smothered in kisses all over that hunk of a man

Welcome back hun! I'm glad you like my stuff! And I'm so happy you liked that last thing I wrote, it makes me 'uwu'

I do not actually, I just finished up the last thing I posted for Wrecker a little bit back but I wasn't that happy with it, and I've been currently working on drafting chapters for my Tech fic I want to do.

But... I love my big boy (and incredible genius like this man can rig a bomb out of TRASH like how in the galaxy-) Wrecker so I want to give him some fluff. You give me the perfect escape ramp to do so LOL

I am so sorry to all the people sitting in my inbox while I work on their stuff and I do this one in a day the stars just aligned here while I'm stuck in a hotel for a sporting event

Relationships: Wrecker/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None really, just some overwhelming fluff and irritating Echo(poor baby)

“So...”

After he cracks the silence you glance up at Wrecker, noticing the way he only looks at you in the eyes for a second, before glancing away to the side.

You’re sitting sideways on his lap, leaned back against the arm of the co-pilot’s seat while the main seat sits empty. All the while the Marauder coasts through hyperspace, stars streaking past the viewports. Wrecker’s left hand sits against your hip and he adjusts it, and by extension you, shifting your body slighting closer to him while he speaks.

“What was Kamino like before we got back? After Order 66 and all that.”

You purse your lips for a moment, trying to find a way to describe it.

“Like normal, at first. Just more hectic.” Wrecker’s brow furrows as he looks down at you. You remember not entirely knowing what had happened, only that the war had ended; Until little pieces had begun to fall into place.

“Granted, I didn’t spend that much time there before I hitched a ride with you guys.” You feel his other hand on the small of your back, his fingers twitching.

“Why you ask?” Wrecker’s head perks, looking down at you before away with a bit of an abashed expression. It’s, incredibly obvious he’s trying to lie.

“What? I was just curious…”

All you have to do is stare at him for a moment with a slightly suspicious expression before he cracks in half.

“Ok! Ok ok geez…” He swallows harshly and clenches his teeth for a moment, trying to find the words. And when he does, they come out quieter than you had expected.

“Do ya, regret coming with us?”

You look up at him, having a decent idea what brought this on. So he’s still thinking about earlier.

A little while ago Tech had been surfing open Imperial channels for any unencrypted chatter, and had came across all of the Batch’s bounty postings; Though much to their surprise, you were included with them. They had you marked as a co-conspirator, and with that had effectively ruined any chance of you trying to live a normal life.

Needless to say, you’d taken it far better than the Batch had.

You’d been avoiding talking about it at all around Wrecker, knowing how he was probably taking it. But it seemed he’d been still thinking and stewing about it since Tech had first shown them all.

“No, I don’t.”

You attempt to lean up and give him a kiss, but given the height difference with you sitting on his lap, it’s a struggle. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck, and tug downwards.

“Come down here. I can’t reach you up there.”

He gives a wide and excited smile knowing what you’re trying to do, and eagerly dives in for a kiss. You can feel him almost groan happily as your soft lips press against his own, and your hand stays on the back of his neck. Wrecker doesn’t think there will ever be a day where he’ll get over how small and cute you are compared to him. Once you pull back, you smile at him.

“I wasn’t going to work for the Empire. So I was going to end up on a bounty board either way, honestly. I’m incapable of keeping my mouth shut.” Needless to say that makes Wrecker laugh, feeling the way your hands grab at the seams of his armor to keep him close. As if he was going to pull away anyways.

“Besides; I can’t think of a better place than being here with you.” He smiles again, you can feel it against your lips as you kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Even if it is in this smelly ship.”

Wrecker can’t exactly deny that, even if he’s long since lost the ability to smell it.

“Well, you’re stuck with us now!” The hand on your thigh moves to cradle your cheek, effectively smushing your face against his own as he kisses your cheek. It makes you laugh, even as you attempt to shush him. As much as you’re glad you managed to cheer him up, or at least divert his attention away from thinking about your bounty, his voice tends to echo in the around the compact ship.

“Hey! People are trying to sleep big guy, we can’t yell!”

It’s absolutely not the first time you’ve told him to be quiet, but Wrecker seems largely incapable of doing so. Even his whispering is loud; Much like his personality.

Though it’s not like you mind; It’s just the four others sleeping, or at least attempting to, in the back of the Marauder might not have the same opinion.

Speaking of...

It seems like it’s time for a shift change; As Echo comes into the cockpit looking at something in his hand, before going down the one step and noticing the two of you snuggling in the co-pilot’s seat. His shoulders drop and he sighs, letting out a crestfallen:

“Really?”

Echo always looks tired, but now he looks extremely so. Or disappointed, more like.

“What?” Wrecker stares him down. “Got a problem?” Echo thrusts out his good hand, the datapad in it pointing at the two of you.

“Yes! That’s my seat!”

“Well, we sure weren’t going to take Tech’s.”

You’re attempting not to smile at him, before awkwardly shuffling outward to try and get off of Wrecker’s lap and onto the ground. It takes a moment, before your boots finally touch the floor. Wrecker vacates the seat as well and Echo takes his claim back, flopping down datapad still in his hand.

But there really isn’t any other places in the cramped living space of the Marauder to go, so you just end up back at Wrecker’s bunk, both sitting on it limbs tangled together. Wrecker leans against the wall one leg dangling off the edge of the bunk, and you lay back against his chest. It’s moments before he’s complaining again.

“At least Kamino wasn’t this boring.”

You can feel the way he groans, head thumping against the wall before he suddenly speaks up.

“Want to play Sabacc?”

You jolt forward, about to speak; Though Tech interjects before you have the chance. He’s sitting in his bunk like he had planned to sleep, and either gave up, or an idea struck. Either way his head perks up from the project in his lap, looking over at the two of you.

“Oh, are you going to play? I would like to t-” You quickly cut him off, before anyone else gets any ideas.

“No! We are not playing Sabacc. Not after the last time.” Tech goes back to working on his current project.

“We will be back on Ord Mantell in two standard rotations. We will not have to keep ourselves occupied in hyperspace for much longer.” You can feel Wrecker’s hand against the side of your leg; Wanting to rest on your thigh but resisting the urge to. You would’ve slapped it away if he had, as you’d made him promise to keep affection to a bare minimum while on the Marauder.

“Because he’s so bored…” Wrecker sounds like he’s rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, because he has a project. When Tech actually gets bored he starts digging into the walls.” You can see Tech’s eyes glance over at you for a moment, but he can’t exactly refute your claim. Specially since you’ve seen him literally digging for wires in the walls of the old Kamino barracks before.

After a moment passes however, your hand drifts down to subtly touch his own that’s laying beside your thigh. It lingers, hidden, wrapping your fingers around his own with a soft but noticeable touch. Wrecker’s looking down at you curiously when you glance back.

“How about once we land, we get something to eat?”

Wrecker is all for that, and instantly starts thinking about food that isn’t in a pre-made ration packet. Once you turn around and give him ‘a look’ however, he realizes you might not be entirely talking about food. Then Wrecker becomes much more quiet, looking down at you with a nervous but eager smile.

You’ve been stuck in this ship for a bit, and it’s been awhile since the two of you have actually been alone. As in actually alone, without risk of someone storming in. Your hand dares to trail up to his wrist for a bit,

“Y-Yeah, sounds good to me.”

#the MCU (misty cinematic universe) continues to expand it's lore with another mention of the forbidden sabacc game #mywriting #wrecker x reader #Wrecker/Reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader

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tvstarkuma · 1 year ago

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Please repost do not reblog

CHARACTER SHEET ―

FULL NAME.: Teddie (legally Kumakichi Hanamura)

NICKNAME: Ted

ALIASES: The (other) Prince of Junes, Comet (Phantom Thief code name)

PRONOUNS: He/Him

HEIGHT: 4’3” (bear), 5′3” (human, up to Arena), 5’7” (human, DAN onward)

ZODIAC: Cancer

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Japanese, English, and a bit of other languages here and there

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ―

HAIR: Short, blonde hair pulled to his left side. By P5 he grows it out near shoulder. In a more feminine presentation his hair is straight and down to his waist

FACIAL HAIR: none

EYES: Bright blue, grey in bear form

SKIN TONE: Pale and fair without any blemish

BODY TYPE: Very lean and on the shorter side at first. Hints of muscle tone on his arms but hard to notice. He is very proud of his physical appearance and enjoys outfits that show a bit of skin when he can

VOICE: Friendly, energetic, and on the louder side. Can be a little deeper when he is speaking on a serious subject. His voice is at a higher pitch in bear form

DOMINANT HAND: Right

POSTURE: Sits upright with his hands on his lap. While standing he has his shoulders back and feet apart

SCARS: No physical scars since his body has self-healing capabilities. There are a few mental scars from the murder case. Big ones are Nanako’s temporary death and being dragged into nothingness by Izanami

BIRTHMARKS: None.

MOST NOTABLE FEATURES: In his bear form everything about him is noticeable. As a human, he constantly has a very well-kept appearance without any stains on his clothes or hair out of place. He can create charming sparkles out of nowhere and his eyes have a varying level of brightness to them. He can make cute shapes in his eyes, his skin is bright and blemish free, his teeth are always a bright white. One could say he looks too perfect

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ―

PLACE OF BIRTH: TV World

HOMETOWN: Both the TV World and Inaba are hometowns to him

SIBLINGS: Yosuke Hanamura (adopted brother)

PARENTS: Mr. and Mrs. Hanamura (adopted parents)

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ―

OCCUPATION: Junes part-timer and mascot, Protector of the TV World

CURRENT RESIDENCE: The Hanamura residence in Inaba

CLOSE FRIENDS: Everyone on the Investigation Team

FINANCIAL STATUS: Stable since the Hanamura’s provide food and home. Has a habit of spending most of his own money on snacks

DRIVER'S LICENSE: No

CRIMINAL RECORD: Clean

VICES: Overindulgent when it comes to food, has a habit of breaking other’s personal space, gets starved for attention very quickly to the point that he is easily lonely, clingy, self-sacrificial tendencies, lets his emotions get the better of him

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ―

LOVE LANGUAGE: Words Of Affirmation, Touch, and Quality Time

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES: He is a hopeless romantic through and through and longs for the day he’ll find the love of his life. Being in a relationship means he’ll be loved for who he is and will never be alone again. Despite this, he’s never actually felt romantic attraction towards anyone (with one exception) so he isn’t good at identifying it. If Teddie’s in love with you, he’ll be more shy than usual at first since these feelings will be new to him and he’ll care about his love so much. He would be a very romantically intimate partner that is very protective and clingy. Fun games and cuddling with his partner are a must!

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ―

CHARACTER'S THEME TUNE: Teddie Circus (Persona 4 Arena)

HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME: Watching TV, walking around town, reading, making glasses and accessories

LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED: More right-brained but also has his own moments of left-brain miracles

SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL: Much lower than other’s would be led to believe. While he has accepted what he is and is confident in his decision to stay in Inaba and, doubts still occasionally return. He values his friends' lives above his own to the point that he would die for them with no hesitation. He is working hard to stand on his own feet as someone that he and his friends can be proud of. By P5, he is even more comfortable with what he is and knows for sure that he is wanted and appreciated.

Tagged by: @tacitusauxilium (thank you for the tag!)

Tagging: @sylviareviar, @the-flower-karasu, @evokemessiah, @ijustgottabelieve, @halfxspider, @knightshonour

#midnight miracle games #((I used his human form for the physical section))

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smallbutters · 11 months ago

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Hiii!!! If it isn't to much trouble may I have (male) romantic genshin matchup please. My pronouns are she/her. I tend to be shy around new people but I can be somewhat loud with people who im close to. My height is 5'0. I would describe my aesthetic as girly/soft/cottegecore, lots of long dresses and skirts.

Im not very athletic and im not a big fan of sports but I love to go roller and ice skating. I also love to read books and to also cook and bake food. I also like to garden. I've been playing the violin for 7-ish years. I love animals. I am currently studying in college. I like to Watch nature/animal documentaries. I also like sweets.

Somethings I dislike are people who bend or ruin my books and people who speak over me when im trying to talk.I love music, I can listen to any genre and like it but my favorites are indie,bedroom pop and classic rock. sorry if i spelt anything wrong. Hope im not bothering you:)

I match you with…

Kazuha and Tighnari!

I know it’s somewhat obvious to choose the two nature/animal boys, but here’s why I chose these two!

Kazuha -

He would absolutely never interrupt you when you’re speaking- he loves when you get talkative, since that means you trust him enough to come out of your shell!

Something else he loves hearing is you play! I can totally imagine you two playing together to the wind, letting the breeze take the music into the night sky.

Going roller or ice skating with him would be both very fun and slightly chaotic. I think Kazuha would get the hang of it fairly quickly (after a few falls), but once he does he’s absolutely killing it.

(He’d use his vision to give you a little boost of speed, maybe causing you to fall over. He’d be mostly sorry.)

On the fashion side, I think he’d actually really like the longer skirts and dresses - I mean, they flow so beautifully in the wind! Imagine if he would send small gusts of it and make your skirt fly just ever so slightly, letting you know he was nearby.

Hazuha’s been a vagrant for most of his life, so having someone do things like cook homemade meals for him would melt his heart. If he has to travel, he’d find bento boxes and little treats in his bag, reminding him that he finally has a home to go back to. <3

Tighnari -

Another person that would never speak over you. Tighnari is respectful and considerate, even outside of being your lover. He values your opinions and what you have to say - it’s hard being the top forest ranger, so your input is invaluable.

Obviously, gardening with Tighnari is an absolute given. He’ll use his vision to help with plant growth, and his extensive knowledge on flora to help teach you how to be the best plant nanny there ever was! He’d be so proud when they start to bloom - the flowers becoming a testament of your dedication and love.

Tighnari would be okay with you not being super athletic - he’d teach you some simple things that would help with living in a forest, but he understands that not everyone likes to be sporty. Someone needs to watch over home base and take care of it while he’s gone, after all.

Obviously, living in the forest comes with living with nature and all of its creatures. You’d be living in your best Disney princess era by befriending animals big and small, and Tighnari would fall in love more and more each time he’d see it.

Staying hydrated and nourished during expeditions is crucial for him and his team, so he’d really appreciate your cooking skills! Making lunches and field snacks for the crew while they’re away would mean the world to him.

(His crew would relentlessly make fun of the fact that every time he eats something you made, he can’t stop his tail from wagging.)

Tighnari would be the kind of partner to be honestly interested in what you’ve done that day, and use that information to do things like give you top-tier gifts. He’d ask you what you’ve read recently and research how to best store books so they stay in mint condition. Same with violin - the forest can get humid and rainy, so he’d find a way to keep your instrument working perfectly in any weather.

(I can also see Collei bonding with you over certain books and love for animals! Seeing you two get along makes his day every time - you’re like a little family together.)

A/N: You are absolutely not bothering me!! This was my first request so I really hope you enjoy your results - of course, this is just my opinion from a small amount of knowledge about you, so don’t take it super seriously ofc! Thank you for your request :]

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soulsuckrrs · 1 year ago

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Basic Information

Full Name: Callum Franklin Monroe Nickname: typically goes by his last name Monroe. Cal is also acceptable. Age: 40-44 | several centuries old Date of Birth: December 21st Species: Fae. Body-Jumper. Powers: Callum can possess dead bodies of any kind no matter the degree of decay but the length he can inhabit them lessens the more decayed they are. When this happens he leaves his own body & it is vulnerable so often he’ll hide himself somewhere before transferring from body to body. While possessing a body he has prenatural strength & senses, Callum can also commune with the dead (is considered a medium) but it always depends on how corroborative the dead are. He can absorb any information, skill, or knowledge a person had prior to death while in their body & take it back to his own for future reference. While in his own body Callum’s reflexes & senses are heightened beyond that of a normal human's but only slightly so, nothing compared to some other supernaturals. Hometown: was left somewhere in the UK as an infant, has never been to the Fae realm where he was born Current Location: States | Thread dependent Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him/His Orientation: Demiromantic, Bisexual, & Polyamorous Religion: n/a Occupation: debt collector & bounty hunter Living Arrangements: he has a permanent address in New Orleans under an alias but typically stays on the move, going from room to room, hotel to hotel. Language(s) Spoken: polyglot but doesn’t let many people know that

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Dominic Cooper Hair Color: Dark brown Eye Color: Brown Height: 5’10 Weight: 163 lbs Build: muscular, strong, rough. Tattoos: tbd Piercings: none Clothing Style: comfortable, clean, easy to move in. Doesn’t really care about the current fashion but does love himself a good suit & button up shirts, Callum does like to look nice. Usual Expression: bored & disinterested. He makes it a point to make people think he is just constantly not in the mood for anything & that he hates life.

Health

Sleeping Habits: he usually crashes for a few hours, 2 to 6 hours a night if he can get it. Struggles with insomnia. When in a body that is not his own/dead, Callum doesn’t require sleep. Eating Habits: he loves food & will eat whenever he gets the chance. Want a deal to go in your favor? Give him candy, Callum has quite the sweet tooth & often is sucking on sweet things like Jolly Ranchers, suckers, & sour candy. Exercise Habits: he’s by no means a professional athlete or anything but Callum is in very good shape, doesn’t necessarily exercise regularly to keep up his shape but gets into situations that are physically strenuous enough to keep him active & toned. Emotional Stability: he’s prone to angry outbursts but usually needs a good deal of prodding & goating before he strikes out at anyone, otherwise, Callum would say he has a great emptiness inside, when reacting to most things he’s bored or disinterested initially & rarely feels any certain way about things but that is not to say he is completely incapable of feeling something it just takes him a while to feel anything but apathy & disgust usually. Sociability: he hates people, would rather be hunkered down at a bar in the corner or sleeping somewhere. Definitely an introvert & prefers to keep to himself but makes connections for work & the undeniable human need for companionship. Body Temperature: when he’s in his own body he’s warm, sometimes even a little above average body heat. However, when in the body of someone deceased, he’s cold to the touch. Drug Use: he typically sticks weed & cigarettes, a little cocaine here & there but goes on benders where he does a ton of drugs & drinking. Alcohol Use: Callum has had on again off again issues with alcohol since he was a teen. He drinks often & doesn’t keep it to any specific time frame just whenever he wants a drink. Scent: cigarettes, dirt, posies, & ashes.

Personality

Label: The Undertaker Positive Traits: intelligent, quick-thinker, adaptable, curious, & resourceful Negative Traits: nihilistic, apathetic, aloof, callous, & violent Fears: losing his real body or being unable to return to it. Hobbies: reading, listening to music (mostly jazz & blues), Habits: smokes a lot & oftentimes doesn’t care where he lights up, fidgets when he’s bored or anxious or agitated.

Favorites

Weather: cold, snowy, rainy. Color: black & gold Music: rock, punk, grunge Movies: horror, thrillers, scifi Sport: none Beverage: liquor, beer, coffee. Food: has a sweet tooth & enjoys breakfast foods a lot though. Animal: butterfly. moth. rat.

Family

Father: unknown Mother: Aileen Clarke, deceased. Sibling(s): none Children: none Pet(s): none Financial Status: lives paycheck to paycheck but has always been able to make things work out.

Extra

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius MBTI: ISTP-A (the Virtuoso) Enneagram: the Challenger Temperament: Choleric Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Primary Vice: Wrath Primary Virtue: Patience Element: Fire Kinks: biting/scratching/marking, oral/cunninglingus, bondage, grinding, being handsy, hand jobs/fingering, public, passion/desperation, hair pulling/grabbing, multiple partners, breath play/choking, fingers in the mouth, anal/ass play, being pegged, pain play, wax play. Position: Switch, top/dom leaning.

#file: stats #file: stats - Callum

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infinitelistofcreations · 2 years ago

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Conner Abbott

Basics: Age: 30 Sexuality: bi-sexual Current Residence: England Height: 6′1″ (185 cm) Nationality: British Face Claim: Sousuke Yamazaki (Free!) Occupation: internet cafe owner

Personality: Laid back and easy going about life. He doesn’t take things too seriously but he isn’t gullible or naive. He has a very big brother type of way of acting around others younger than himself, teasing them to the point of annoying them but also trying to help them grow as a person and encourage them however he can. He takes great pride in his job, giving only his best efforts into anything it needs. Being seen as a manly man is also a point of pride for himself- being strong, assertive, macho and the like are things he often keeps tabs on, as it’s something everyone compliments him on regularly and he enjoys that praise. But he’s still kind and looks after others, too, taking no shit from anyone and standing up to those who try being bullies.

Appearance: Short, styled black hair and deep blue eyes, he keeps his body in shape and has a toned body though not overly muscular, either. He will wear anything that’s comfortable when not at work, be it shorts, jeans, sneakers or sandals. His fashion sense isn’t terrible but not great, either. Basically, whatever he sees in fashion/clothing magazines that are being worn by men his age, he’ll wear and buy.

Background: Growing up in England as an older brother wasn’t an easy thing, but Conner made it look it. He never knew his father, instead having his mother bring various men into the home as he and his little brother grew up. His mother, while not the cruelest woman around, also wasn’t the kindest. She often complained to her sons about their fathers and how they were great men despite neither staying around when the boys were born, and Conner quickly learned to be independent from her to escape her daily whining.

Of course, he didn’t leave Cody behind in this, often taking his kid brother with him any time he went out for jobs, giving Cody his own little tasks to keep him occupied. It had been this way since Conner could remember- taking on a parental role in the household because their mother refused to be one herself. So he took it into his own hands to all but raise Cody himself, not wanting Cody to go through the irritation that had been listening to their mother.

The moment he turned 18, he moved out of the house from his mom, though gave his brother a spare key for when Cody wanted to get away from their mom as well. Conner also continued making sure to spend time with Cody, bringing him out to various places and just trying to help the guy expand his social horizons, since it seemed Cody was just shutting himself in his room all the time. At the same time, Conner worked his ass off and eventually graduated high school with near honor grades, and he balanced his business class for a degree with helping Cody out when he got into high school as well.

After working his way through various mind-numbing jobs and internships, Conner managed to finally get the money he needed to start up his own company, something he’d wanted since he was young. Just being able t run his own company and call the shots himself was more appealing to him than having to listen to someone else, really. And when he noticed people in the surrounding areas talking about spaces where they could go to just be online but also still socialize with others, it gave Conner the idea of starting an internet cafe- an old school idea but it seemed the concept was coming back in fashion. And before long, it was a success! Conner was the owner of his own internet cafe, and after Cody got his own schooling done for general IT, he gave his brother work at the cafe as well. Something like a family business, but not.

Relationships: Cody - younger half brother through their mother Violette - friend

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bluntfish · 2 years ago

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A Day at Frosty Springs

What do you do when you have a bro's birthday coming up? Surprise him by sending him off to a hot spring without telling him of course!

I made this because of Aurelius' birthday (Jan 30th) and wanted to get this out of my system lol. Someday I would like to visit a spa but alas... a dream for now.

Today is January 30th. A particular day for a bounty hunter who gazed at the rising sun. This man, due to unfortunate circumstances, lost many things in his young life: family, his former love, and the respect he had for his hometown. A man like him, with little hope left in humanity, resigned himself to the most desolate place on Grandis: the Raine Tundra. Aurelius is his name.

He is not alone, however. The town’s Marshal, Zhong Nan, was a friend of his. The two suffered similar circumstances leaving Utgard, though Zhong’s was more of a consequence of his behavior while Aurelius left on his own accord. Despite this, they also have a consistent partnership in taking care of any business to anyone disturbing the peace of the quiet snowfields.

Weeks before, the duo discussed the next assignment Aurelius had to take. They were talking in Zhong Nan’s office inside the Raine Wall. The blue-haired marshal finishes his conversation with one of the residents and pulls out a document file from his desk with his pale hand. This was passed to Aurelius. Zhong insisted on the white-haired man, not as a close friend, but appealing to his civic duties as a man to the people.

“Everything here, in this file, should state the entire details of this bounty. It’s in a few weeks from now. I’m sorry I have to send you away on your birthday. Drink’s on me when you return.”

Aurelius takes those words to mind. He’s not particularly upset, but he was looking forward to having a quiet day in his home. Maybe visiting his parents on his occasional visits to the graveyard. Alas, he’ll save those complaints for later. His job hat is on sans his crossbow. It was not needed from the briefing he received. It unnerved him, knowing if the mission ends up being any kind of ambush, he will be at a disadvantage. Still, he has to follow orders, begrudgingly so.

Currently, he’s standing in front of a station map, observing the times of arrival and departure. Quietly observing the other people waiting at the stop, towering over some with his height. The intercom rings. Stepping away from the platform comes the only transport in town. A handful of people file out. He steps aboard a worn-down train.

Women and children exchange glances as his heavy footsteps, and the shuffling of his coat, reach his designated booth. He quietly removes his green jacket and bag and slumped over to the nearest corner. The ticket officer walks by, seeing Aurelius sink into his seat.

"Excuse me, sorry for the intrusion. You're boarding this train as a bounty hunter correct? I need to double-check your ticket if you're traveling for business."

"Shouldn't that be taken care of at the ticket office?"

"I'm just following the protocol, sir. We had some incidents in gyrate where folks abused the gratuity clause reserved for registered bounty hunters. May I see proof of your qualifications for this trip?"

He hands the man his hunter's license and the file tucked in his bag. Official documents by Marshal Zhong. Stated as followed in the opening letter:

"Aurelius, under official orders, you are to be transported and stationed at Frosty Springs for a night stay. Everything is paid for. They will explain everything when you meet with one of the managers."

The officer flips through the rest of the papers and raises his brow. He asked the white-haired man, "are you sure this is official business?"

"Of course. Nan's a friend of mine. We work together often," he mumbled.

"Sure, and I'm best friends with pop sensation Ahmed."

Before the huntsman made any kind of remark, the officer continued, "Regardless, the seals are authenticated. You have a nice day, sir."

How annoying, thought the hunter. He huffed at his seat and watched the sun moving across the young sky. Slowly. Getting further away from the Raine Wall and into the mountain pass. Trees go by, branches blurring from view. Aurelius sat and watched, lulled into a snore soon after. For a good hour. His slumber ended abruptly for a halt. Stirring awake, the intercom announces the location Aurelius waited for.

Sluggishly he debarks on the platform, holding documentation and his belongings at hand. Aurelius turns to the large plaque near the entrance labeling the location as “Frosty Overpass”. He notices, in the corner of his eye, an older man wearing a black suit. His black-gloved hands are holding a sign with the marksman’s name misspelled incorrectly.

“Ourelius?” Aurelius muttered in bewilderment.

The hunter approached the man in an inquiry. “Excuse me, but you misspelled that name. It’s with an A, not an O.”

“Forgive me sir, but are you the hunter Aurelius?” the man spoke in a refined voice.

“I am,” Aurelius responded nonchalantly.

“My mistake, I’ll correct that in the future. But that means you’re the person I've been waiting for,” the man says while putting away the sign behind him.

“Is this with the packet Zhong Nan gave me for the mission?”

“Mission?”

“For Frosty Springs.”

“So that’s what he calls it,” the man chuckled, “indeed it is. My name is Jean. Follow me. I’ll drive you to the location.”

The two men walk to a black compact car. Aurelius lugs his things in the front, along with himself, in the passenger seat. The older gentleman follows suit. He starts up the vehicle and drives smoothly towards a well-traveled road. Aurelius frequently tilts his head around the interiors. Above the driver's blind, he sees the man with a small child and another man of similar stature in a small frame.

“Your kid?” Aurelius points out the photo.

“My nephew for a few years now. My husband is watching over him.”

“That’s nice,” Aurelius smiles.

The rest of the car ride is the same as the train: quiet and tranquil. They’re both greeted with a rustic atmosphere and rugged exteriors upon arrival. Various types of smooth stones cover the face of the building, while a small moat runs around the spring opening.

Jean parks the car and opens the door for Aurelius, ushering the man inside. “The reception desk will be on your left after the double doors.”

Aurelius made his nod and walked in carefully, scanning the area. The hairs of his neck stand like chestnut needles. Tense. One hand clutching his bag, the other making creases in his envelope. A narrow hallway leads to two doors, decorated in a sleek black pattern. The huntsman pushes through and is greeted by a bath of yellows and whites. The carpet is green. A fountain streams from one end of the wall to the other and flanks against the reception desk. He blinks. People and espers alike were walking in white robes, casually talking. Relaxing.

“Wait,” Aurelius thought to himself, “am I supposed to be a bodyguard to someone here? I don’t see any mention of the client nor… where are they going to place me?”

The man made a stride across the lobby and approached the desk. A lady is currently on duty.

“Welcome to Frosty Springs Resort, where all your troubles melt away. Are you here for an appointment?”

Aurelius opens the letter and slides it in front of the woman without saying a word. She picks up the document, and flips it to the other side, with a reassuring smile.

“Mr. Aurelius, I presume? I’ll send someone down for your special day.”

Aurelius raised his eyebrow in confusion when a pair of men emerged from the back halls.

“Follow those men and they’ll lead you to your room.”

Aurelius glances at the receptionist and then wordlessly follows the men through the hallway. People of all kinds were sectioned off in an open area from a window on his right. He sees a big bath filled with different men of varying backgrounds, and ages, all relaxing in the spring. Aurelius sweats. Afraid his client will leave himself vulnerable for so long that he’ll be compromised. One of the men he followed opened the door to a private room. There are some amenities on a table, a booth and stall, a massage bed, and other decorations. Along with a view of the mountainside across the entryway.

“Sir, please use the booth to change out of your clothes into the robe you have. The masseuse will be with you shortly.”

The door closed soon after Aurelius’s audible hum of confusion. He looks at the robe, and figures that they’re trying to get him to blend into his surroundings. He quickly drops his belongings in a corner, removes his clothes from the booth except for his boxers, and changes into a robe. Very snug against his body. Taking a good look in the mirror, he took a moment to perceive his form. Not different from what he does at home for his daily ritual every morning, but he feels somewhat different. He contemplates how he will complete his mission if he lacks equipment but nearly forgets his own power.

“If anything turns to the worse, I always have this” he softly talks to himself while making a small ice shard before dispatching it.

His train of thought halted when a knock was heard. A booming voice from the other side.

“Hi. I’m here for your appointment. Can you open the door?”

“Appointment?” thought Aurelius. He opens the door and sees a tentacle pop out of the frame, making the man jump back in surprise. The person, an esper blessed by some kind of Kraken being, waltzes in with his tools.

“W-What the?”

“What’s the matter? Never seen a man with eight arms before?”

“No, who’s the appointment for?”

“You sir. You ordered the Swedish?”

Aurelius shakes his head.

“This must be a misunderstanding. This is for the client I’m working for. Not me.”

“But you’re the client, sir.”

The white-haired man is taken aback. The dots were connecting, drawn with a crummy oil crayon. The vague notes from Zhong Nan, the drive from the station, and even being greeted by the staff as if he’s the one he was working for without realizing it. Aurelius grips his fist and then relaxes before he smacks his own face using his own palms.

“…Just lie down on the bed over here, sir.”

“No,” Aurelius stammered, “this got to be a mistake.”

“No mistake sir, you ordered the Swedish and soak-in spa treatment.”

“What else did I order?”

“I’m not the head of operations–”

A lamp bumped over on the carpeted floor. Gripping on the wooden table, Aurelius balls up his fist.

“I never mention any of this. Where is the client?!?”

Seeing his guest going awry, the masseuse called for backup in fear for his life. Two men assisted Aurelius to the bed as they were holding him down, gently as they could, to calm him. Gave a lot of reassuring pats that he was in a safe environment. He would rather be tackled on the floor, putting up a fight instead of this. Embarrassed to be in this situation, Aurelius struggled, resisted, then submitted himself in defeat after twenty minutes. Sweating. He knows he would easily topple these people over, but an esper with octo limbs would mean serious injury if he tried anything drastic.

“You win. Let’s get it over with,” Aurelius grumbles.

He pushed the men aside and walked towards the bed. The staff members look at each other as the marksman gets on the massage table face down. Showing no resistance as the robe he had on rolled over his shoulders. Aurelius groans in disbelief. He mumbled to himself how he got into this situation, but it was too late. His train of thought derailed once the pressure of his shoulder was molded against the foam. His eyes are bulging out then a wave of relief rushes over him. Tranquil waters, the sight he saw before entering this room, came to mind.

The tension from his arms and legs becomes limber. Squeezed like an orange, with all its acid and juices draining away into a canister. Packaged away in a landfill where it’s never welcomed back into his system. Aurelius heaved a big sigh of relief. No anxious thoughts bloomed in his brain, only the droning noises of the room and his muscles loosen up. The seconds turned to minutes, and soon an hour was up. His masseuse lifts up his limbs away from Aurelius’s back, now in a darker shade of red.

“Alright sir, you should be set. You can head to the bathing area now.”

The man rolls from the bed, standing like a newborn calf to a straight pine. Adjusting his robe, he was escorted to a private bathing area. A small spring where natural flora deck a part of the beige walls. No other persons were in sight as the door was shut behind him and watched the eight-armed man leave. Seeing the coast is clear and he’s clearly alone, Aurelius drops the robes and undergarments near the edge of the spring. Slowly he submerges his body into the warm water, with every ounce of stress leaving him in vapors. His head cranes above the opening of the gray skies permeating the mountains as he leans against the rocks in contentment. As he got comfortable, he also dunked his head as he was taking in the experience. Pulled his hair back with his worn hands soon after.

“Some peace and quiet for once, huh?” he says to himself, “I’m going to hate going back tomorrow. I need to give Nan a piece of my mind… for now, let’s forget that.”

Shutting his eyes from the soft winds billowing about, Aurelius feels like a new man. Ready to take on any challenges he could face in the future…or perhaps, hoping he’ll have another opportunity to visit the springs again. Nevertheless, he takes this snippet and wishes time could halt for just another moment longer.

The next day, after debarking from his returning train, Aurelius immediately beelines to the Raine Wall. Zhong Nan takes a sip of his tea for five seconds before the huntsman knocks on his office door. Unphased, the Marshal sets down his teacup on his saucer plate.

“The door’s unlocked.”

Aurelius rushes in.

“What seems to be the problem, friend?” Nan says with a chipper tone.

“You asshole. You said it was a mission,” the hunter walks towards his desk.

“It was. A mission for you to relax from your duties.”

“I nearly killed an innocent man, Nan.”

“And I’m sorry to hear about that blunder.”

Zhong Nan stood up facing Aurelius while walking around his office saying, “you were too tense. I was worried your mind was breaking a little so I asked a friend of mine to arrange something for your birthday.”

“So it was a surprise?”

“Indeed.”

Aurelius remained quiet, glaring at the ghastly man. The Marshal paused then walked up to his friend, patting the huntsman’s right shoulder.

“...so how was it?”

Aurelius remained silent, then smiled faintly.

“It was very nice. You should’ve stopped by.”

“Ah, I knew I should’ve. I had personal affairs to attend to at the time, but in the future… we should. I’ll let you know.”

Both of the men nodded their heads with a fist bump.

“Are we still drinking later?” Aurelius asks.

“Of course! What’s the point of drinking without friends, you madman.”

The two men laugh, with a boisterous cheer echoing throughout the tundra. Lax days soon follow. Aurelius is back in the wilderness. He’s purely invigorated in his work once more, feeling more refreshed than ever. Though the days of the faraway springs keep crossing his mind, one day he’ll have another chance to mend his body again.

#Dislyte Aurelius #dislyte zhong nan #dislyte fanfic #Dislyte fanfiction #written by bluntfish #Feels good to write after a few months huh

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cheswirls · 2 months ago

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actually!! have more :v

Sabo trades his apron for his coat before clocking out. The sun sets right at five at this time of year around these parts, and he knows from experience that the chill coupled with anything wet makes for a miserable enough walk back as is.

He sets one foot outside and under the cafe’s awning before a very familiar voice is purring the name that’s been pinned to his apron for the better part of the day.

“Se~bas~tian~” ace croons, standing straight from where he’d been leaning against the wall.

Sabo feels smart in his coat, but he’s lacking his little booties at the moment. Normally he wouldn’t care about a little lost height, but having ace in front of him makes him miss the little heels that would leave him just a tad taller than the other.

He huffs and shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “What do you want?”

“It’s raining,” ace observes. He twirls a folded umbrella in one hand. “Let me walk you home.”

That’s a very familiar umbrella, sabo’s lips pursing when he realizes. Come to think of it, he is missing the extra weight hanging from one arm. Someone still has a penchant for sleigh of hand, then. Good to know.

“If you must,” sabo sighs. He takes another step so he’s almost out from under the awning, just a hair’s breadth away from being drenched in freezing rain.

Ace, of course, won’t let that happen. The umbrella is open over sabo’s head in the next moment, and sabo wastes little time in walking out onto the street, trusting ace to follow just behind.

Maybe he’d been a little too trusting. Ace hooks his hand around the curve of sabo’s elbow and pulls him until they’re walking side by side, the umbrella sheltering them both. “Where to, darling?”

If the intention ace was going for had been nonchalant, then he’s failed miserably. Sabo reacts on gut instinct when he withdraws his next step forward to instead slam that foot down onto ace’s shoe. He leaves ace hissing and stumbling while he regains his footing. Somehow, their intertwined arms remain perfectly intact.

“Wow, didn’t realize you’d turned into such a little fucking menace,” ace grunts.

“I’ll be glad to take the umbrella back and walk myself home alone,” sabo snips, pointedly looking in the opposite direction.

Ace sighs and does his best to straighten up. “Don’t be like that. It’s coming down like crazy right now.”

“Should’ve brought an umbrella,” sabo mutters, but he doesn’t fight back when ace leads them forward again.

With much reluctance, he leads ace to the downtown hotel he’s staying at currently. It’s one of three locations he has booked, choosing to alternate between each in rotation. Luckily for him, aisa’s father is a sucker, and having a hotel room listed as his permanent address did absolute wonders in getting him a temporary position at the cafe for the week.

Technically speaking, he isn’t due at this particular hotel room until the next day, so it’s not like he’s bring ace to home base or anything. Hq for the night is actually three blocks down the opposite direction, and anyway, if it’s just him in a room instead of a group of people, then there’s less of a risk in leading ace on.

Ace stops under the awning to shake out the umbrella. Sabo reaches out a hand for it, then ends up pursing his lips when ace tucks it under his arm instead. “Don’t tell me you want to come inside.”

“Well. i did come all this way.” ace rocks back on his heels. “Would be rude of me to not make sure you got in safely.”

Sabo hums in discontent, but he doesn’t attempt to stop ace from following as he turns on his heel and pushes the lobby doors open wide.

So be it. He can compromise one hotel room to see this through to the end.

Sabo lets himself in and tosses the key down on the small table right by the door. If it gets taken, so be it. Not like he’ll be using it again. “Can this be quick? I need a shower.”

“Well please, don’t hold back for me,” ace murmurs. Sabo looks at him over his shoulder, gaze sharp with warning, and ace immediately raises both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Enough jokes. We’re alone?”

“Unfortunately,” sabo mutters, crossing his arms.

“Cool.” Ace throws himself down on the small couch, reclining longways with one arm tosses over the back. “What are you doing here, sabo?”

Sabo scoffs. “I refuse to answer that.”

“Yeah?” ace raises a brow. “Then you won’t like what i do in response.”

The look in ace’s eyes hardens so suddenly that it makes sabo shudder. He gaze flicks away, drawn uneasily toward the door. A glance at the table reveals the key is already gone. “What does it matter? It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Sabo opens his mouth but no answer comes out. He can’t. He’s not. He has not the slightest clue as to why ace would be here, but he does know that their priorities rarely align.

His voice is monotone when he speaks next. “Did the government send you?”

“I’m not answering that,” Ace bites back, a hint of mock laughter in his tone. “What does it matter who’s employed my services this time? It’s not like knowing my goal will help you with yours.”

“And knowing me and mine?” sabo counters. “Does the opposite not hold true?”

“Well, if anything, having prior knowledge of you and your group’s intent will help me avoid interference.” Ace looks up at him again and narrows his eyes threateningly. “Wouldn’t want to get in each other’s way again, now would we?”

Sabo disguises another shudder as a shiver as he turns his back and shrugs out of his coat. “Hurry out already. I can’t take being this cold any longer.”

Ave waves him off. “Take your shower. I’ll be right where you left me when you get out.”

“What, so you can have free reign to search the place and go through all my stuff?”

“Like you have anything important lying around here.”

“I might have just one.” He smirks, slowly slides off his shoes. “If you can find it before i get out, i’ll give you a reward.”

The last thing he sees is ace’s brows shooting up into his hairline before the bathroom door is shut firmly and locked tight. Well. that should keep him preoccupied for a spell. With any luck, he won’t pick the lock and decide to search the bathroom as well.

Now that he’s by himself, Sabo can admit he’d bluffed as he did as a ploy to keep ace lingering. If he’s lucky, ace will grow bored and see himself out. If he’s not, then he’ll deal with the consequences of his own making.

here's another bc i like how it started <3

undercover op where ace sees Sabo behind the counter and immediately moves to play along

Sabo working as a barista in a fancy upscale cafe that businessmen in the area flock to in droves. He has register duty for the week and the screen system has already been wired so each card that's swiped gets the data pulled and saved to an external drive. When Ace walks through the front door Sabo does his best to smile through his teeth.

“Is cash okay?”

“Sorry, sir, all we take is card.”

“Ah, no problem. Got one saved to my phone.”

“I’m afraid it has to be a physical card.”

“That so? Let me see what i have here. Will a gift card do?”

“We are not accepting gift cards at the current time.”

“Just my luck. Oh!” Ace smiles wide and pulls a silver card from his wallet. “Good thing i have a prepaid credit card on me! There you go.”

Sabo takes it with more force than necessary and swipes it through the system without looking. “Very good, sir. Anything else for the day?”

“Well, actually-”

Sabo's eyes fall open and his pupils are narrowed to slits. “That was rhetorical,” he hisses between his teeth, leaning just slightly closer to Ace so he can't be overheard. “Take a seat, Ace,” he says, saying the name Ace had given him to write on the order with such disdain but disguising it with a well-intentioned smile.

Ace is having none of it, planting a palm heavy on the counter between them as a warning to keep Sabo close. “Don't be like that, sweetheart. I was only curious as to when a certain barista would be off for the night.”

Sabo sniffs and pointedly leans back, looking at his nails and perfectly playing the part of pretending to halt a customer's advances. “Shop closes at six,” he mumbles.

“So seven?” ace tries. “Or six-thirty?”

“Closer to seven,” he mutters, then turns to accept Ace's ready-made drink and slams it onto the counter so he just barely avoids crushing Ace's hand. “There you are!” he announces, overly fake and plastic smile perfectly intact. “Enjoy.”

Ace takes the card he now suspects has no balance remaining and his too-expensive coffee and chooses to be petty and take a seat at the back of the cafe instead of leaving outright. This spot gives him the perfect view of Sabo, which he knows has the other seething, but hey. It's been some time since they've seen each other. The least he can do is enjoy it before it's all over.

“I had no idea you were seeing someone, sabby! You’re so cute together, too! Hehe~”

Sabo grits his teeth behind closed lips and works hard to not snap the after-rush checklist clipboard between his suddenly-taut fingers. “Cute is not a word i want to be associated with, especially not in this setting. And no, i’m not seeing anyone.” He turns sharp on his heel and points a finger threateningly at his teen coworker. “Unless any other thirty-something in a suit asks after me, and then you say i am not single. Understood?”

Aisa laughs behind a poised hand and turns her eyes to very blatantly look in ace’s direction. “No? Well if he’s not taken, maybe i’ll try my chances.”

Sabo holds back most of his strength when he brings the clipboard down over her head. She still whines and brings both arms up to shield herself, the little drama queen. “Don’t, he’s too old for you. If i let you flirt with men while on the clock, your father would have my head.”

Aisa sticks out her tongue, but the act of defiance is tamed by the shudder that runs through her frame. “Yeah, yeah. You always gotta ruin my fun.”

It keeps him sane, most of the time: getting to put a brat in her place. He hadn’t planned on being stuck in shifts with the owner’s own daughter, but his luck had always been down in the dirt. Adding him suddenly showing up out of nowhere was just the cherry on top of this whole fiasco. At least he only had a week left. If he could–

Sabo raises a brow at aisa’s enthusiastic waving and looks over his shoulder to see her target.

Of course it’s ace, at the door with his empty to-go cup, waving one-handedly in sabo’s direction.

Sabo crosses his arms in response, wanting no part in this. He turns back to snap at aisa only to find she’d stopped on her own, now content with leering at him from up on high.

“Ohhh, i get it now,” she insists, making her voice extra bubbly for the added edge. “He’s your ex, isn’t he?”

The clipboard snaps in two before he can register the pressure he’d applied to it. Aisa frowns and grows quiet when she sees. She jumps off the counter and mutters an apology before hurrying into the back room.

Sabo can’t even blame her. He can’t even get mad. She’d been right, after all.

#experimental immortal piece #writing

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startanewdream · 3 years ago

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For @everythinghasreason, who sent me a prompt for a mini-fic, though I ignored the length a little bit. 1.6k words of Ginny and Fred talking for a DH Missing Moment, with mention of Hinny, and a bit of underage drinking (that this author does not recommend, kids).

*-*-*-*-*

11. things you said when you were drunk

Firewhisky tasted horribly.

She knew it already, having sipped a shot last July before Mum took the glass away from her, but firewhisky was the only alcoholic beverage avaible at Aunt Muriel’s. And considering Ginny was currently breaking into her great-aunt alcohol cabinet (if it could be considered one with only one bottle), she guessed she couldn't complain.

Or maybe she wanted to. For someone who had been used to a high degree of mischief, misconduct and rebellion, those last few days at Aunt Muriel were the height of boredom.

"Tsch, tsch."

Her already quick-beating heart skipped a beat, but she relaxed even before turning toward the voice.

"Are you drunk, little sister?"

"I'm not drunk," Ginny replied easily, though she wasn't sure she was being truthful. It took her a while to fixate her gaze upon Fred, and even then, she couldn't be sure it wasn't George instead — and Ginny had always been proud of identifying her brothers. "I'm drinking. It's different."

Fred laughed; it had to be Fred. For all the claimed they were identical, Fred's laugh was always more high-pitched.

"I was wondering how long you'd take to figure out Aunt Muriel does not protect her cabinet against underage access."

Ginny raised the bottle. "The perks of being enclosed here."

He took the bottle from her. "You shouldn't be drinking."

"As if you and George — or any of you — didn't drink before becoming of age."

Fred smirked. "Percy didn't, though not for lack of offering from us. And, well, we had access to something that you won't."

"What?"

"A Hangover Potion. The first rule of underage drinking — any age drinking, actually — don't get drunk unless you are ready to deal with its effects."

"What difference does it make?” she asked before she could control herself, her voice bitter than the firewhisky. “So I’ll wake up with a headache. It’s not as if I have anything to do. Not locked here—”

“We are all locked—”

“You and George have your business going on.”

“Barely. It’s as if we are back to that year Mum found our stuff and threw it away, only we are not so fond of Aunt Muriel. And it’s not like it’s not hard for everyone else. Dad isn’t working anymore either. We are all waiting.”

“I wasn’t.” She breathed hard. “I was breaking the rules every day and trying to do something good in the world, trying to give people a little hope, and now— staying here and doing nothing is worse than a Cruciatus.”

His face darkened, no smile on his lips anymore. “You don’t mean that.”

Ginny shivered. “No, I don’t.” She took back the bottle. A long gulp. “I hate staying back. I can’t. Not when people are out there in danger, not—I wanted to get out of here. I almost took one of the old brooms here and went to Bill’s.”

“Ginny—”

“But I didn’t.” She closed her eyes for a moment, hating and clinging to the voice that echoed in her mind every time she thought about crossing a line that she knew was too extreme. If this was your funeral… He’ll try and get to me through you… “I broke into the broomshed, spent hours staring at the broomsticks and then went back to my friend Ogden.”

“You don’t even enjoy drinking.” Under her gaze, Fred shrugged. “It takes a while to develop the taste.”

“Well, give me a few hours with Ogden and we’ll be lovers.”

“Why would you love someone who makes you miserable?”

She couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped her lips, louder, echoing in the kitchen. It wasn’t cheerful; it sounded quite insane, and she couldn’t fault Fred for taking her bottle once more and then proceeding to give her a glass of water.

“Drink this and shut up. You don’t Mum to find out, trust me.” He waited until she drank; her mirth was gone by the last gulp of water, only misery filling her. “What’s going on?”

“Harry.”

“What…” Eyebrows raised. “You still fancy him after all?”

The unhappy laugh was at the back of her throat, but she managed to hold it back this time.

“Fancy. Funny word.”

“I thought you were over—”

“We were dating.”

If things didn’t feel so heavy inside her head, she would have congratulated herself for the expression on Fred’s face. It took a lot to surprise any of the twins.

“What? How—”

“The usual way. Holding hands, sharing meals, finding secluded corners in the library to—”

“Okay, okay, I don’t need details.” He shook his head. “How come no one in this family knows it?”

She tried to take the bottle back; he kept it away from her. “The same way I can fly well – or how I could open my soul to a sixteen-year-old young dark lord – I’m actually good at hiding things.”

“This isn’t – this is something else – how did you manage to hide something this big?”

“Ron knows. Everyone at Hogwarts knows it—”

“Ginny?”

“We broke up, okay?” There were tears shining at the corner of her eyes; she wanted to throw the bottle away, to see it smashing in thousands of sherds. Stupid firewhisky. “Harry broke up with me – said something stupid about trying to protect me and then he went off to save the world, except somehow, he’s back at my brother’s house and he – not once – he didn’t ask for me or came to see me and I hate that I can’t hate him for trying to save this fucking world!”

“Ginny—”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like this. I’ve been getting these looks all year – poor Ginny Weasley left behind by her boyfriend –”

“You were not.”

“That’s what we sold to the Carrows.” She buried her nails in the palm of her hand. “That Harry and I had a meaningless fling, and then he left me because I had no use to him anymore.”

Used. She hated that word. She had been once used by Tom Riddle, and the idea that people believed Harry had used her was so wrong. There was nothing of Tom Riddle inside Harry.

“You know it’s not true.”

“Of course I do. We were in love.” She glared at him, daring him to question her. “He loved me.”

Her voice shook with her fierceness. Ginny knew how she sounded, like a woman who had been left behind by a lover who had promised he would return but never did; they all believed in their lovers’ promise until reality forced itself upon them.

At this point, Ginny thought she was better than those wronged by their lovers; Harry had never promised he would return.

Fred was still looking at her; there was no pity in his eyes, at least, and for this Ginny would always be grateful, would always cherish her brother.

“Then you get through this,” he said at last. “You survive this challenge of staying put, you meet Harry when this is all over and you give him your peace of mind, so he understands he won’t ever get to let you alone and then you snog him senseless until he gets it in his thick head — only make sure none of your brothers are around to see it.”

Ginny snorted. “I don’t even know if he will still want to be with me when this is over.”

“Look, Harry may be a specky, scrawny git, but he’s not stupid. He will get around – and if not, any of your six brothers are willing to hex him in your honour.”

“You do realise the only way we will be back together is after Harry does his noble heroic thing and defeat You-Know-Who, right? Are you sure you want to jinx the wizarding world saviour?”

“In times like these, little sis, I always question myself: Why would Ginny do?”

She laughed; it was a warmer laugh than she had let out in a while, and it felt relieving to know she still could laugh like that.

“Something reckless, probably.”

“We taught you all the right lessons.” Fred winked at her. “There’s something you can do right now – help us get Potterwatch back. We haven’t figured out yet how to bend the charm around all the protective enchantments around this place.”

“And you – who once rat me to Mum, very unbrotherly – will just let me cast underage magic?”

“I’m letting you drink, Red.”

“Red?”

“You will need a codename as well.”

“And the best you can give me is Red?”

“Tell you what, you decipher the spell, you decide your name.”

Ginny grinned. “Deal. When do we start?”

“As soon as you are sober. If I’m letting my young underage sister cast spells, I’d rather she doesn’t misfire her wand.”

Ginny glared at Fred; he threw her an innocent look, but she rather thought he had just given her an assignment that would keep her from drinking for some time. It was rather clever of him, and Ginny would concede defeat when she had to.

“I’m gonna sleep then.”

“Try to disguise how miserable you are going to wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Prat.”

“A very smart prat, yeah. Drink water. Lots of it.”

“Sure, sure.”

She was at the door when he called her back. “Ginny… don’t lose hope. We’ll get through this.”

“I know,” she answered him. It was a lie – no one could know what would unfold in the future – but she had learned something with the twins a long time ago and Ginny had tried to live by it. She just had to had enough nerve.

#DH missing moment #Fred and Ginny #Hinny fanfic #Ginny will not wake up happy the next morning #I don't know how to tag this so I won't!

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merakiui · 4 years ago

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Hatefully Yours

yandere!scaramouche x (female) reader art credit - rome_romedo on twt/pixiv cw: nsfw, yandere, subtle hate sex, dub-con, mild f*ck or die situation note - please read the content warnings and do not proceed reading if you are a minor or do not wish to read what’s listed in the warnings.

It’s deplorable, really—how you crumble underneath his fingertips with such ease. As if the key to your compliance was simple skin-to-skin contact all along. You should’ve been wary of the concealed malice in his smile when you had the chance. After all, it would’ve done you well to put as much distance between yourself and the Fatui Harbinger. Deep down you knew something was off when he presented himself in such a friendly manner, as if he were a mere drifter lacking a clear route.

His kindness had felt so undeniably real, though, and that’s what left you floored. You thought his smile was pleasant enough and if Mona hadn’t stepped in you would’ve let him join your party. Now that you were aware of the reality, it made more sense that he’d put up an innocently helpful front, wanting to get as close to you as possible before bringing the hatchet down. He’s a clever one, but the Fatui have always been good at scheming.

What a little rat, you think, gritting your teeth as you’re brought back to your senses. Your current situation doesn’t allow you to hide away in the inner most nooks and crannies of your head. Unless you fancy a swift beheading, which is the exact thing you’re trying to avoid.

Despite his height, Scaramouche doesn’t need to hold a weapon to your throat to appear intimidating; you’re already aware of the consequences that come with disobeying him. The Fatui are a force to be reckoned with—that you know from the countless times you’ve evaded them. And somehow this Harbinger was able to catch you flawlessly. Perhaps part of you wanted to be caught, if only to test the power of a man you know nothing about. To discover just how deep his words cut. His orders must mean law; you wouldn’t have stayed alive for this long if it weren’t for him. But a worrisome notion always remains: He could rid himself of you with a flick of his fingers and you’d be forced to accept it with a hung head.

So you do everything you can to stall the inevitable, hoping against hope that he’ll have a change of heart if you’re able to break through that smug exterior of his.

“Are you listening?” he snaps, and it’s then when you realize he’s been talking to you while you were lost in your own world, ignorant to the deliciously lewd sounds of your puckered hole squeezing tightly to accommodate him.

“Of... Of course,” you murmur, acutely aware of your less-than-pleasing pace and the hilichurl camp just meters away, where those cursed beasts lurk with open ears. By sheer willpower, you manage to hold your voice back to avoid alerting them, and it’s a miracle they haven’t spotted you yet. You can only thank the thick grass and the bushes that provide a comforting level of cover.

“Liar.” His fingers feel hot on your hips, like the searing fires of a Pyro slime, as he practically guides you up and down on his cock. “You can’t be this stupid, but I wouldn’t put it past you, seeing as how I managed to find you with such ease. It’s as if you wanted this, you dirty traveler.”

“You wish.” You glare ahead, thoroughly relieved your back is facing him so that he can’t reprimand you for your heated stare. “There’s no need for talking. Let’s just—” Your hips raise and his fingers dig into your sides, slamming you down so you take all of him in one go. A moan hisses out of your clenched teeth as he hits a particular spot inside of you. “Let’s get this over with.”

Scaramouche smirks, peering at your backside from where he sits against the trunk of a large Sunsettia tree. One of his hands moves away to trace patterns along your spine, a small reminder of what he could do to you. Whether he wants to snap your fragile bones or not, you’re unsure, but it keeps you moving with a newfound vigor. You might stand a chance as long as you can hurry this along and then get away as fast as possible. Somehow, even with this position, you’re certain he’ll find a way to keep you hanging from a thread that’s dangerously close to snapping.

“I was thinking,” he says, unbothered with the way you move your hips. Almost as if he’s had better. You would’ve laughed at the implication had the situation permitted it. “What makes a traveler such as yourself so special? Surely there’s more to your status as Honorary Knight than meets the eye...”

“You’re one to talk.” The words come out before you can stop them, spoken with such venom that it startles you. “Fatui Harbinger.”

He doesn’t say anything, simply tilting his head as if weighing the truth in your words. His other hand releases your waist to alleviate the stinging, possessive grip he’s had on you for the past few minutes. You expect him to wring submission out of you with another threatening demand—the same order that got you in this predicament to begin with—but he remains silent. Assuming the worst and acting foolish, you stop entirely, turning your head to stare at him in confusion. Surely he’s plotting something.

There’s subdued concern in your lidded eyes when your gaze locks with Scaramouche’s. Despite sounding unfazed, his cheeks are flushed and that intricate hat of his sits crooked atop his head. You roll your hips experimentally, earning a sound akin to a soft groan. You weren’t sure such a gentle, pleasured noise could ever come from someone so cold and calculating. You almost let out a sigh of relief until his voice stuns you like cold water.

“Did I say you could stop?”

“Obviously not. You haven’t said anything other than useless taunts and—“

Your words stick in your throat when those cobalt hues, which were once glazed over with an indescribable lust, narrow in an intense glower. He opens his mouth to retort, but you’re too nervous to listen to whatever it is he’s about to say, and those unspoken words are replaced with a string of breathy moans. You resume your movements, hastily bouncing upon his twitching dick as if your life depends on it. And it most certainly does. At least, if he does decide to kill you, you’ll have gone out feeling complete bliss. Although you would prefer to keep your life.

“You have...horrible pace,” he says, filtering his whimpers with an assertive tone.

“Like you could do any better,” you say, almost begging for more out of some primal, salacious instinct. “You... Hah... You’re sitting back while I do all the work.”

He scoffs and suddenly you’re being pulled flush against his chest. The movement leaves his dick brushing against your slick walls in an embarrassingly sinful embrace. At this new development, the both of you breathe your own individual sighs of pleasure. You forget all about the fact that he’s caught you—caged you in this position—and fall deeper into unpredictable ecstasy. A shudder racks your body as his hand closes around your breast to roll your perky nipple between his fingers, while his other hand moves down to rub harsh circles against your clit.

And that’s all it takes for you to finally come undone, a tangled mess of nerves fraying and snapping. You clamp your hands over your mouth to muffle your wanton cries as you practically gush around his cock. Scaramouche continues to hump into you, his breath hot and staggered as he struggles to remain composed. If you weren’t succumbing to the after-affects of an intense orgasm, you’d be ridiculing him.

But you aren’t given the chance; you can hardly keep your moans in at this point as his ministrations cause another wave of pleasure to overcome you. Toes curling, your gooey heat squeezes Scaramouche like a vice. It’s so snug and hot—a perfect fit for a perfect Harbinger—and he chases that same high, easily forgetting the ice in your tone or the way you silently fester in mounting hate.

A particularly loud gasp escapes your throat as you wail brokenly, which doesn’t go unheard by the hilichurl relaxing a considerable distance away. It stops to listen, ears pricking. Scaramouche tugs at your breast and your whines finally address him. It’s not his actual name per se; it’s just Fatui. That’s all you know, as he never gave you his name before any of this occurred. You only know him as a Fatui Harbinger—a man in charge of your fate and your very life. And even if he isn’t the only Fatui Harbinger you may know, hearing you call out his position pierces his heart with a dagger of twisted possessiveness. He wants to hear you like this all the time, completely shattered and calling out to him. Only him.

Through your blurry visage, you notice a hilichurl walking towards the bushes to investigate the strange sounds and your blood freezes.

“W-Wait... The hilichurl—it’s coming this way. It heard us. We need to—ah!”

Before you can register what’s happening, your face is being shoved into the ground, and Scaramouche is holding your hips in a white-knuckled grip. You’re almost certain he’ll leave bruises if he doesn’t let go, and you weakly lift your head to protest at the new position. He silences you with sharp, brutal thrusts. You bury your face in your arms, doing everything you can to muffle your moans. You’re hardly granted a break between his thrusts, and he sets a rough pace that leaves you babbling nonsense.

Scaramouche grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing your head up from the grass. “Be quiet.” He slides his dick out until the tip is teasing your entrance before he rams it in all at once, successfully hitting a spongy spot deep inside of you. “I’m in no mood to fight a tribe of foolish hilichurls.”

You’re reduced to an incoherent mess as he batters your overstimulated cunt, practically losing himself in the act of loveless sex. In your eyes, it feels as if the two of you are lovers and he’s simply curing the sexual urges of two lovebirds. Although that’s impossible; he’s Fatui and there’s no way he would stoop so low as to fall in love with a wandering traveler such as yourself. Miraculously and luckily for you, the hilichurl abandons its search when it can’t place the sounds, trudging back to its camp for another nap. You aren’t spared from the torture, though, having endured another orgasmic high that has you seeing stars.

The Fatui Harbinger’s thrusts have become sloppy and weak, a relieving signal, and in the haze of his lust he considers cumming inside. Perhaps it’s due to some strange feeling—a need to mark and monopolize you—but he decides against it at the last minute. When he pulls out, your hopelessly empty pussy clenching around nothing, and cums all over your nude backside you crumple, no longer able to support yourself.

Your surroundings are peaceful and silent, save for your and Scaramouche’s panting. He’s already adjusting his hat and straightening out his clothes, while you’re on the verge of passing out, naked, covered in cum and sweat, and utterly relieved you haven’t alerted an entire tribe of hilichurls.

When he’s presentable, Scaramouche grips your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. A self-satisfied grin blesses his deceiving features. “That was rather enjoyable. Although you can do better. Next time I won’t be so lenient with your ugly, sharp tongue.”

You heave a breath, struggling to move your face away, but his hold is firm and unyielding. “Does this mean...you’ll leave me alone?”

He snickers and your heart drops. “How funny. If I recall, we never made any deal of that sort. Just how delusional are you? Perhaps I’ve gone and broken you already.”

“As if,” you grind out. If only you weren’t entirely exhausted from such an intense session, your determination would’ve held more weight. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“Good. In that case, I look forward to seeing the true strength of Mondstadt’s savior.” As a cheeky afterthought, he adds, “And not when you’re at my mercy, begging like a dog in heat. But I must say, you have interested me. I think I’ll keep you for myself. Consider it an honor.”

And it’s then when you realize just how screwed you are, both figuratively and literally.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #so maybe i'm simp for scara #meeska mooska scaramouche #repost because tumblr be crazy like that #n/sfw #tw: dubcon

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amistytown · 3 years ago

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The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

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nevadas-night-time-novelist · 2 years ago

Text

Main 3, Sheriff - Comforting their lil sister

CW: Descriptions of violence during Sheriff's section

Hank

This big brute gets rather gentle when his little sister is around. You can do no harm in his eyes, and he will fight for you, he’ll even fight his own team mates. No one, and he means fucking no one makes his sister cry and gets to walk away afterwards.

He isn’t very good at comfort or physical affection, but he will pick you up and hold you close if you’re crying, he can’t find the words to make things better but hopes the affection itself is enough to calm you down. With his muscles, you still weigh almost nothing to him so he does this with ease. It reminds him of when you were just a baby.

Giving Deimos and Sanford a certain look, the two make themselves scarce as he plops you on the couch, telling you “Stay put. I will be back.” As you sit curled up with your knees against your chest, a blanket is draped over you and Hank gives you your favourite stuffed animal. Again he leaves for a moment, coming back with a mug of hot chocolate to sooth the soul.

He’ll put on your favourite movie, sitting next to you and draping one of his arms around your tiny frame. His mind is rattling, he’s waiting for you to explain why you are upset, so he can split some skulls or otherwise destroy what’s making you this way. If you don’t speak up he’ll relent and just ask.

“Wanna… Talk about it?” If someone has done something to upset you, he’ll destroy them. If you’re just feeling bad, he’ll squeeze you in a tight hug and tell you its okay to be sad sometimes, and that he’ll always be here for you when you need a shoulder to cry on.

2BDamned later finds you leaning into Hank’s side, both of you fast asleep and he stifles a laugh. Yes he is snapping a picture of this, yes he is going to keep it in his scrapbook.

Sanford

You let out a cry as you jolt up in bed, another nightmare of terrible things, memories projecting themselves without restrictions during your most vulnerable state. Tears stream down your cheeks as you curl into the fetal position and try and gain some sense of reality again.

Eventually you roll out of bed and decided to seek comfort from your big brother, shuffling down the silent halls to his bedroom and knocking on the door lightly. He’s groggy when he answers, but his attitude snaps in an instant and he’s leaning down to you level, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away the tears.

Ford has always been less of a big brother and more of a father figure, always there to support you, helping you grow to into a successful person despite the hell-scape you currently live in. “Hey princess, it’s okay,” He still sounds tired as hell, stepping back to his full height he pushes his door open, hand resting on your back and guiding you into his room.

You sit on his bunk and rub your cheeks, still the tears fall and you sniffle. “You’re alright,” The bunk sinks as he sits next to you, warm arms tightly embracing your much smaller form. “I’ve got you. Let it out sweetheart.” He doesn’t let go until you stop yourself, then and only then pulling back and looking at your face, brushing the tears away again.

Explaining your nightmare to him, he nods all the while, interjecting that, “No, I am not going anywhere, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you. They’ll never get a damn chance.” He wraps you tightly in his blanket and kisses the top of your head. “You wanna sleep next to me tonight?” Admittedly its a little embarrassing, but you nod eagerly and lay down. He turns his bedside lamp off and lays next to you. “Wake me up if it happens again princess.”

Deimos

Despite having at least a good decade over your age, Deimos can be just as childlike, sometimes even more so. Any chance he gets, he’s trying to make you smile and laugh, he lives for it. And when you’re sad, it pains him, and he tries even harder to bring back that smile he loves.

One day you approach him while he’s enjoying a cigarette, exhaling he turns to greet you before realising you’re sniffling. “Whoa whoa whoa,” He tosses the cigarette down and pull you into a hug. “What’s wrong baby? C'mon, what’s with the waterworks?” He shushes you over and over, hoping his voice and embrace can quell your pain.

Calming down a little, you explain that you’re just very overwhelmed at the moment, it all hit you at once and you just crumbled. He feels terrible for not noticing sooner and he runs his fingers through your hair. “Hey it’s alright. We can’t always be on top form all the time. You wanna go for a drive with me? We can swing by Gil’s and the bakery, grab some comfort food and chill.”

The wind whips your face as you fly down the road, windows down, music cranked up high. Drives with big bro Dei are the best, he speeds quickly, but has dexterity to avoid the potholes lining the road now and then. It’s super rare when its just the two of you, you’re usually third wheeling him and Sanford, and sure Ford is a swell guy, but sometimes you just wanna chill with your sibling.

He’ll splash the cash now, buying you whatever you want from Gil’s and then the bakery, even if it’s a giant slice of cake that’s going to destroy his cigarette fund money, but he can deal with it. It’s always worth it, just to see you smile again.

Sheriff

Running a town makes him a busy man, he doesn’t have much time between his duties and sleeping. He doesn’t leave you unattended of course, that’d just be stupid on his part, but having a couple MERCs around isn’t really a good replacement for him.

Any time you ask him to spend some time with you, it’s always “Sorry darlin’, I’m busy, but later, okay?” or “Soon darlin’,” or “Tomorrow, for sure.” But it rarely comes. He’s got a lot on his shoulders, so many depending on him, but he doesn’t realise he’s neglecting the one who needs him the most.

And one fateful day, Hank and his buddies pounce on the town. You’re sitting in an office swivel chair, scribbling and writing whatever comes to mind, when shots ring out in the building. “Get under the desk, don’t move or speak until we come and get you.” One of your guards says, grabbing his gun and heading out with his partner. You obey without question, you know your brother is wanted for something, someone is always hunting for his head.

The gunfire gets closer, you squeeze your eyes shut as tears silently roll down your face. You don’t want to imagine whats going on out there and-The door burst open with force, your hands clamp over your mouth and your breath catches in your throat. “This ones empty,” Comes a husky voice, no doubt a hardened smoker. “He can’t have gone far. We’ll find the bastard.” Replies a snarly, harsh voice. Whoever the duo were, they seemed to be leaving.

You sit under the desk for Maker knows how long, thinking over and over how they would come back and find you, destroy you like everyone else in their path. Quick feet come stomping down the hall, multiple pairs, oh they’re back to finish the job-

“DARLIN’?!” It’s Sheriff and he’s hysterical, voice shaking and cracking. “I’m here.” You meekly call, crawling out from your hiding spot. “Oh Maker’s joy, you’re alive. I’m so sorry darlin’, I didn’t know those freakshows would be showin’ their faces around ‘ere or I’d have gotten you somewhere safe. Oh darlin’ I’m so sorry,” He clings to you tightly, tears streaming down his face.

“I thought I lost you darlin’, I thought I fuckin’ lost you.” Despite being a weak man, he finds the strength to lift you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. “Close yer eyes. Y'don’t need to see this.” You bury your face into his shoulder, cringing as you hear him stepping in blood and feel him shifting over bodies. He whispers softly to you. “Jus’ don’t look,”

He takes you home, amazingly untouched by your trespassers, and it’s on full lockdown. “Take care of the mess,” He orders Jebus, who simply nods and leaves with a couple MERCs. He takes you straight to your room, wrapping you up like a burrito with several blankets. “I ain’t gon’ give those assholes another chance to get near you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for y’ darlin’. You must be terrified.”

Pulling you close again, he lets out a shaky breath before he begins humming softly to you, like he used to to when you were just knee high. “Nothin’s gon’ harm you, not while I’m around. Demons are prowlin’ around nowadays, I’ll send 'em howlin’, I don’t care. I got ways. No one’s gonna hurt you, no one’s gonna dare.”

He ruffles your hair all the while, and vows to himself to not abandon your side for a good long while. It’s a hard balancing act, but the fear of losing you tears his mind to shreds. Sheriff is going to shower you in goods and treasures, and while he doesn’t want to, he’s going to teach you to fight and survive in the world, starting with getting you your own set of armour and gun.

#madness combat #madcom #madness combat x reader #madcom x reader #madness combat reader insert #madcom reader insert #x gon deliver to ya #hank #hank j wimbleton #hank x reader #sanford #sanford x reader #deimos #deimos x reader #sheriff #sheriff x reader

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