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celestial-toys · 5 months ago

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Observation Duty

“You said your eyes are everywhere, huh?”

Your question is met with silence.

Now, if you had been looking down at him instead of facing the ceiling, you’d have caught the brief image of your living room security cam footage as it flashed across the screen of his faceplate. You’d have seen the moment you tripped playing on a sped up loop over and over, your knee hitting the table’s corner, your body hitting the floor, laundry falling and dog food scattering just to rise back up unnaturally as the footage plays again in reverse.

You weren’t looking down though, you weren’t looking anywhere at all- and so you missed it completely, thinking nothing of his silence and continuing to talk to the ceiling.

“So… what, you just enjoy watching me do chores?”

- - -

Seeking distraction from the work weighing on your mind, you start a little play-argument with the tetchy automaton currently hogging your couch. It soon evolves into a verbal dance, skirting around some heavier topics that threaten to trip up the both of you as your conversation moves too quickly for this listless afternoon.

As usual, he takes all of your antics in stride. Well… mostly. Kinda.

Look- he’s trying, okay?

Pairing: Sun x Moon x Reader - GN!Reader

Word Count: 4,934

Contains: [AU - Real World] [argument] [feelings] [implied past trauma] [intimidation] [lack of communication] [minor injuries] [obsessive behavior] [sentient AI] [size difference] [surveillance] [tension] [touching (not sexual but the consent is still dubious)] [tsundere/yandere Sun] [unsettling]

A/Ns: Once again, the above CW's probably make it sound worse than it is, but I like to err on the side of caution.

This fic is part of my AU "[Not] Made by Design", the full series can be found here.

The light of the screen in front of you burns into your tired eyes. Your focus is waning, your mind preferring to wander instead to how badly you’re craving an afternoon coffee. Sighing, you push yourself away from your desk, leaning back into the chair as its wheels roll with the momentum. Bumping into the wall behind you with a soft thud, you slump in your seat, staring with unfocused eyes at nothing in particular.

A few deep breaths and a short-lived moment of empty-headed bliss later, you remove your glasses and rub your eyes with the knuckles of your curled fingers. Digging your heels into the floor and dragging your chair forward again, you place your glasses on the desk, and note the time. You’ve been in the office for several hours at this point, and if you stay much longer you’re willing to bet a certain Sun-themed bot will be beating down your door demanding that you take a break. So, after double-checking that your work is saved, you put your PC to sleep. Standing and reaching for the ceiling as you stretch, you grimace at the cracks from your back and shoulders.

Making your way out of the room and down the hall, you round a corner, entering the living room. The blackout shades are down, all lights off save for the soft yellow glow coming from a small lamp in the corner. The bright afternoon sun is peeking its way through the edges of the windows that the shades don’t quite cover.

Moon would likely complain about how “dark and sad” it looks if he were in here, but you don’t see him. You figure he might be in the kitchen, or outside charging, maybe. Regardless, if he isn’t here to bother Sun about his “depressing” lighting choices, you will in his stead.

The robot has situated himself across the length of your couch, which is quite a feat considering the thing is honestly just a glorified loveseat and even you can’t lay on it comfortably. For being as large as they are, their flexibility makes up for it, allowing Sun and Moon to be genuinely impressive in their ability to fit into relatively small spaces. You try not to mentally pat yourself on the back for the role you played in that ability.

This isn’t about you anymore.

The soft white glow coming from his screen is enough to illuminate the pages of the book in his hands, and from what you can see of it you think you recognize the cover as being the one you were telling them both about last night as you were falling asleep.

…Cute.

You smile, leaning against the wall as you speak up.

“Y’know, my parents used to always nag me about my bad habit of reading in the dark. It seems I’ve somehow passed that trait along to you.”

Sun hums, tone soft and dismissive, and doesn’t pull his gaze away from the book when he speaks.

“It’s not dark, the lamp’s on.”

One black silicone fingertip lifts the corner of the right page, gently pulling it across and splaying his hand out to flatten the book down again. You note how the width of his fingers span beyond both edges of the book. It almost looks too small in his hands, but then again… most things do.

“Besides, I can see just fine in the dark. The lamp is for you.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

There’s humor in your voice, speaking as you push up off the wall and make your way across the room towards him. “Yes, and I do appreciate you leaving me enough light to get around by.”

You cautiously perch behind him on the right arm of the couch, careful not to get your loose clothes caught on any of his protruding rays. You’re aware that in his eyes, you’re clumsy enough even with the lights on, let alone trying to navigate in the almost-dark. Given that, you aren’t sure if it’s truly his disdain for bright lights, or simply his desire to see you struggle that drives him to keep the areas he occupies dimly lit.

Looking down at the coffee table, a recent memory surfaces and you frown.

“Speaking of navigating in the dark… my knee still hurts from slamming it into the corner of the coffee table last week, you know?”

From your position behind him you can’t see how his display shifts from its soft, blank white, his digital approximation of facial features materializing only to shift into a grimace. You do hear the shift in his tone of voice, although you can’t quite name what it is. Exasperation? Or… concern?

“I know. I’m surprised it didn’t bruise.”

“Well, you know me, I have to take quite a hard hit for my skin to really show it.” You think for a moment, and add onto the statement, muttering mostly to yourself but his hearing catches it all the same. “Which has always been odd to me considering how easily my skin scars…”

He hums a little bit in acknowledgment, trying not to think too hard about your various scars and how you got them. “Well, from the sound you made when it happened I thought you’d really injured yourself.”

Your voice takes on a playful tone of offense. “I am injured! It hurt!” You reach down and gently press over the spot that hurts the most, unable to resist the urge to poke the non-existent bruise through the plush fabric of your lounge pants. You murmur to yourself as much as to Sun, “...and it’s still sore...”

His body releases air in semblance of a sigh, lowering the book to his lap. Still looking down at it while he speaks, his tone is a mixture of teasing and I-told-you-so. “While it may have been semi-dark in here when it happened- I’m not taking the blame for it. Things like that just happen when you run around doing three things at once.”

A small surprised laugh escapes you. “How do you know what I was doing, huh?” You reach out and carefully run a fingertip along the edge of his top ray. “You weren’t even in the room, silly.”

His rays twitch slightly but he doesn’t retract them much as his faceplate slowly tilts back, stopping at an impossible angle for any human and finally making eye contact with you, albeit upside-down. “My eyes are everywhere, doll.”

His tone is something you’d call playfully threatening and you hold his steady gaze for a long moment before eventually blinking and glancing away, conceding to a contest you could never win.

It’s cute when he tries to be scary.

A half-smile on your face, you dismiss his attempt to unsettle you. Halloween is next month. “Mhm. I’m sure they are.”

From your peripheral vision you watch his expression falter, his yellow eyes flickering to red just briefly before he speaks. “You were carrying a bowl filled with dog food in your left hand, fresh laundry from the dryer was hanging off both of your shoulders, and you were wiping down the coffee table with your favorite brown towel in your right hand. All at once. While cursing.”

You throw a confused look at him that he ignores in favor of continuing to reprimand your past actions. “You’re incapable of doing one thing at a time, aren’t you? Truly reckless behavior, you know. That’s how people get hurt.”

You let out a put-upon sigh. He’s not wrong, but you don’t want to admit it yet.

Time for a diversion, then.

“Hey, I can multitask! I built both of you at the same time and it turned out alright, didn’t it?”

For a moment, the room is absolutely silent as you both process what you just let slip. You’re about to rush to correct yourself when Sun beats you to it, speaking up.

He laughs at first, soft and a little dismissive.

“Not quite the same thing, sunshine.”

Alright, well… it seems he’s less bothered by the reminder than you thought he’d be. That, or he’s getting better at hiding his true feelings, which is a whole other issue you’ll have to tackle if that’s the case.

You cock your head to the side. Might as well play into it, then.

“No? How so?”

His eyes flicker to red, and this time they stay that way as his faceplate turns, click-click-clicking and stopping when it’s done a 180 so he can look at you properly.

Oh. He’s not smiling.

On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t push the topic.

“You designed us, doll. You didn’t build us, and you didn’t do it alone. You had a whole team behind you.”

Not breaking eye contact with you, Sun’s left hand that had been cradling the open book in his lap closes in an instant. A sudden, sharp clap resounds in the room as a result of the book folding closed so harshly in his grip. You internally grimace at the way it makes you flinch.

Your eyes flick from the book held tight in his grip, to his faceplate, watching his expression fade until his display is completely black. Any attempts at appearing somewhat humanoid thrown out the window, he releases a breath of hot air through his vents as you stare into the void of his screen. You know he’ll likely elaborate if you give him the space to do so, so you take a deep breath of your own, and wait.

It’s always somehow so much more unnerving to hear him speak when his “face” is gone, but you hang onto his every word regardless. You’re not gonna look away from something- someone you made.

“Besides, let’s not forget that even with a whole team of humans, you still managed to fuck up some… aspects… of the project.” Having dropped the comforting illusion of his false eyes, his faceplate tilts, a small, sudden, sharp movement so his ocular sensor can stare directly at you. “Didn’t you?”

Your stomach drops at the realization of what he’s referencing. At least… you think you know. Honestly, there’s an entire list of things that happened back in the facility that they have every right to resent you for.

You’re not sure what to say anymore. There really aren’t any magic words that can make it better. You hurt them. You all did. End of argument.

The realization must be obvious on your face, because his screen soon switches back to his default expression and he seems quite pleased with himself for about ten whole seconds. Then as quickly as it came, the expression he wears shifts into one of hesitation, frustration, and then finally- worry? Maybe? At this point it’s getting hard to tell what the hell he’s feeling, if you ever could.

“Sun… I… I don’t-”

You manage to hold his gaze as you stumble in search of the right words, watching his expression morph from one emotion to the next until his right hand moves, and your eyes immediately flick towards the motion. Your gaze drags up his arm as slowly, his shoulder joint rotates enough to allow him to reach all the way behind him- towards you- hand reaching out to gently cup your right cheek.

You don’t lean away. You won’t.

You dig your nails into the fabric of the couch. His thumb slips under the edge of your jaw as his fingers splay across the side of your head, and you can feel the slight pressure as his thumb lays against your carotid artery.

He doesn’t speak at all this time but from past experience, your mind easily fills in the words he usually says to you as he does this.

Deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out slowly.

You know what he’s doing, and you let him. It’s far from the first time he’s done it.

His mixed expression doesn’t change, his hand doesn’t move, and the silence drags on until you can’t take it anymore. Your voice shakes but you push past it to get the words out.

“I… I swear to god- Sun- like I’ve said before, if I’d’ve had any clue that you two were alive back then-”

You’re forced to squint as his entire screen suddenly flashes, solid white, red, black, repeating several times. His grip on your cheek tightens just slightly. A warning of sorts, if you had to guess. It shuts you up fast and he hisses out an irritated “Don’t.”

Confusion is written on your face and without thinking, you open your mouth to insist on your apology.

His thumb immediately slips under your chin, pressing your mouth closed with such a slow, gentle motion contradicting his current demeanor that it practically gives you whiplash. As soon as your mouth is closed his thumb slips right back to its prior position over your pounding pulse, and his display fades back down to solid black.

“Stop talking. It fucks up my readings when you speak.”

Your brow furrows in frustration at first, but you do what he asked, and what you’re good at. You sit there with him in the quiet and focus on your breathing as the sounds of his cooling system kick up a notch.

The seconds feel like they drag on for ages due to the way you focus on them, but in reality it’s only about three minutes later that he finally seems satisfied with the readings he took as he slowly retracts his hand from your head. The black void of his faceplate slowly lights up again, albeit he’s replaced his default expression with something more akin to a… dynamic wallpaper- yellow smoke billowing across a dark screen.

Whatever suits him, you suppose.

Folding his hands together over the book in his lap, he finally speaks, his tone low and unhappy but not angry, really.

“Your HRV is low and your RHR is high.”

Your response comes out sounding more dismissive than you mean for it to.

“Yeah, they usually are. Nothing new, unfortunately.”

Sun’s body tenses a bit and his rays retract slightly in response. He releases another hot breath through the vent at the base of his neck and you can feel the warmth on your thigh through the fabric of your pants. He speaks again, voice slightly strained.

“That’s my point. You need to relax, and talking about the past isn’t helping you do that right now. So just… drop it.”

You want to point out that he could stand to take his own advice, but you bite your tongue instead. He’s right, after all. You do need to relax. You both do, what with the two of you walking around ready to snap most of the time. In spite of that though, he’s doing his best to deescalate the situation and you ought to follow suit.

The lack of Moon’s calming presence is painfully obvious during times like these, but the two of you ought to be able to make it through one damn conversation without needing his assistance. You laugh a little to yourself, unamused but wearing half a smile nonetheless, shaking your head at the thought. As much as he’d hate to admit it, even Sun knows that the three of you work best when you’re all together, balancing each other out.

You sigh, and let yourself flop against the back of the couch, stretching your right arm out across the length of it. Sun’s invisible gaze follows you as his faceplate tilts on its axis and rotates to remain facing you. You note the way he’s letting his neck gently rest against your right thigh.

Leaning your own head back and closing your eyes in defeat, you speak towards the ceiling.

“Okay, fine, you’re right. I’ll drop it.”

You drum your fingertips along the fabric of the couch in thought, before adding, “...And… maybe... I was doing too much at once, when I hurt my knee on the coffee table last week.”

He lets out a little hum of agreement.

Still, if he thinks he’s fully won this silly little argument he’s got another thing coming. You’ve definitely still got a counterpoint. Counter… question? Whatever.

“You said your eyes are everywhere, huh?”

Your question is met with silence.

You weren’t looking down though, you weren’t looking anywhere at all- and so you missed it completely, thinking nothing of his silence and continuing to talk to the ceiling.

“So… what, you just enjoy watching me do chores?”

He chuckles in response, and the vibrations from the sound tickle your outer thigh, causing the muscles there to twitch involuntarily. You cringe at your body’s sensitivity, but Sun thankfully doesn’t react.

Begrudgingly, you open your eyes and crane your head back up, bringing your right hand up off the couch to lean on. You pull your left leg up towards yourself at the same time, heel propping up on the arm of the couch. Curling toward your right, you realize you’ve inadvertently wrapped your body around his head, which is all but resting in your lap at this point. His rays are mostly retracted by now and the display on his faceplate has shifted once again, yellow clouds still billowing across black but he’s allowed parts of his expression to return, pale white eyes emerging from the smoke.

His face is otherwise unreadable as he finally responds to you. “My priority is keeping you safe. How can I do that if I can’t see you?”

You can’t help but scoff a little at that. “Safe? You were- apparently- watching me, and still let me trip on one of Zero’s toys and slam my knee into the table.”

At that, his mouth returns and he frowns at your tone, and so do you, realizing that you came across a bit more accusatory than you meant to. A beat passes where you both just stare at each other, and his voice is a lot softer when he speaks again.

“Was I not by your side within seconds after the fall, checking you for injuries?”

He was, and you know it. He was on you inhumanly fast, cradling your head like you’d fallen off a ladder or something and not just tripped and fell to your hands and knees on plush carpet. He’s a worrier and you know it damn well, even if he’d rather be decommissioned than admit to it.

Unfortunately, you never learned how to let yourself accept help, nor how to stop being stubborn in a stupid argument that you started yourself. “...Yeah. I guess. But you still could have offered to help before I tripped.”

He rolls his eyes before they land back on you, fixing you with a look that’s unexpectedly soft. In stark contrast, his voice comes out strained. “I was trying not to hover, sunshine.”

Your eyes flick away from his, always unable to maintain the sustained contact once things got a little too serious.

He keeps talking regardless.

“I know you. You would have been like- ‘Oh, no, I’ve got it! Don’t even worry about it!’ and wouldn’t have let me help even if I did offer.”

You scoff before leveling him with an unamused stare. “Oh, I do not sound like that. Shut it.”

He’s wearing a neutral expression but you notice as it shifts slightly, a hint of satisfaction at having gotten under your skin beginning to make itself known. You watch the hint of emotion begin to alter his digital features, as well as his voice.

“Regardless. ‘No lesson is as powerful as the lesson learned on one’s own.’ Besides, I knew you’d be fine.”

You blink down at him for a moment as you process his statement, and fail to contain your exasperated huff of annoyance when you realize where you’ve heard some of those words before.

“Don’t quote Night Vale at me right now, Sun.”

If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you’d have missed the way his eyes turned upwards a bit, seemingly pleased with himself.

You continue, in spite of his attempts to deflect your words.

“You didn’t sound so self assured when you were rushing over to me on the floor with those big red “eyes” of yours blown wide. You were all like- ‘Where does it hurt? Show me. Where. How bad? You didn’t hit your head, right? Forget about the dog food- look at me.’ and all that.”

His eyes shift from crescent moons to flat lines, and his voice returns to his typical deadpan tone.

“You do a terrible impression of me.”

You scoff.

“Like yours is better?”

He nods, his faceplate shifting up and down within the limited range of motion he’s allowed, given your current position.

“I can literally mimic your voice. Mine is objectively superior.”

Thoughts of The Mimic flash in your mind, and it takes all you’ve got to not crack some sort of half-baked joke about the Ruin DLC. The smile on your face does little to hide the temptation, though.

“Debatable.”

Sun doesn’t press you for more, seeming less than eager to hear whatever joke he’s sure you’ve got sitting on the tip of your tongue.

“It’s not up for debate. If you wanna debate with someone go find Moon.”

He sighs heavily, breathing out his next words in an impressive display of realism given that his speech and breathing functions aren’t connected at all.

“I've run out of conversation juice.”

He shifts to sit back up, faceplate rotating, returning his body to its original position facing away from you. You huff and uncurl yourself from your perch on the couch. Moving to stand, you make your way around to the other end where his long legs cause his feet to jut out comically far past the armrest. You reach down, gently grabbing him by the ankles and begin to maneuver his legs out of the way, muttering to yourself as you do so.

“Wish I was a robot so I could lie and say my system has run out of something I don’t even have in the first place…”

He puts up no resistance as you fold his legs away accordion style, watching you in what almost seems like thoughtful silence. Once you’ve made room for yourself, you perch once again on the other arm of the couch, your feet resting on the far left cushion and your left side leaning against the backrest. He finally speaks once it seems that you’re settled.

“Alright. How would you rather I put it?”

You quirk an eyebrow up, slightly surprised at the sincere tone of his question. Shaking your head, you're quick to convey that you were only joking.

“No, no I didn't say to change it. I like ‘conversation juice', I think it’s funny.”

He tilts his head a bit, slow and analyzing. Half a smile slowly curls across his face and both of his eyes take on a soft, pale yellow. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was tired. He's looking at you with such a gentle gaze. It's almost… sad, if you look closely enough.

“Funny? Hm. Well, I suppose I am nothing if not a clown.”

His attention drifts back down to his book, cracking it open and flipping through to return to the page he left off on in no particular hurry.

You know his deadpan tone likely isn’t meant to sound so self deprecating but your heart still hurts at the thought that he only sees himself as some sort of… novelty toy. A joke. A mechanical clown for you to play with when you’re bored. A comedic horror character brought to life.

He can only make so many jokes about himself before they start to sound less like jokes and more like a way for him to vent his insecurities. You understand that type of “humor” far too well to just sit back and watch him do it to himself.

You struggle to resist the urge to remind him that there is much, much more to him than being modeled after that character from that game. You consider reaching out and curling the tip of a finger under the bottom edge of his face plate. You think about gently tilting his face away from the book and back up at you. You want to look him in the eye while you tell him all of the things that you love about him, and how much he means to you, and that he is so much more than a clown.

But you know he handles comfort and praise just about as well as a cat handles falling into a bathtub, so… you resist the urge. For now.

Eventually, one day, likely far from now, you hope to get him used to the amount of love you have to give, and you’ll smother him with it like you want to. But if you lay it all on him like that right now, he would probably overheat and shut down. Both metaphorically and literally.

You really don’t want that to happen again. Scared the hell out of you last time. Even knowing that it’s a safety measure to ensure that he doesn’t sustain damage from overheating- it looks an awful lot like he’s dying when it happens and you’d like to not have to see it again.

So, you opt to keep things lighthearted. You smile as you reach out to pat him on the knee.

“And an excellent clown you are, dear.”

There’s more sugar in your tone than you intended to let out, but if he knew everything you really wanted to say, he’d realize that you’re actually being very reserved right now.

You’re being very normal about it all, you think, as you silently praise yourself.

When you finally get out of your thoughts and back into your body, you realize that you’re being eyed by the man on your couch in such a way that indicates he knows you were caught up in your head again. You spent too long in silence before you responded to him and now he’s likely aware that you were wanting to say something else.

A lot else, actually.

So, before he can potentially ask you what you’re thinking about, you attempt to change the topic. Laughing a bit to yourself, you stretch and shift to make your sudden and hopefully casual retreat from the couch and the awkward air you’ve clouded around it. Twisting around and planting your feet on the floor, there’s forced humor in your voice as you wonder aloud where his other half is.

“Speaking of clowns, what’s Moon been up to while I was working?”

Sun’s expression is unreadable as he spares you one last moment of his visual attention before angling his monitor back down toward the book. You know he’s perfectly capable of taking in visual information while outputting completely separate verbal communication, and can give both tasks his full attention simultaneously in the way no human truly could. Still, in spite of that knowledge, you doubt he’s really paying much attention to the words on the pages before him as he speaks to you right now.

“You know that sad, sad little plant that’s been fighting for its life on your kitchen windowsill for the last… thirty-seven days?”

You cringe a bit at the reminder of the succulent you impulse-purchased recently- well, a tad longer than recently if Sun’s count is accurate, which you know it is. You’ve been meaning to re-pot the poor thing and find a different place for it where it’ll receive better light, but… you’ve been meaning to do a lot of things.

“...Yeah…”

“Last I saw, he took it outside through the back door. He was muttering something about ‘saving’ it.”

Your eyebrows knit as your gaze casts across the floor.

“Saving it... okay.”

As far as you’re aware, you don’t have any potting soil on hand, so you struggle to feature what he’s out there doing with it.

It’s right around this time that you notice the silence of the house amidst your quiet consideration.

You raise another question.

“I assume Zero followed him out there?”

Sun’s true focus seems to be gradually shifting away from you and back into the book, if his display’s shift back to blank, soft white and his neutral-toned yet concise reply are anything to go off of.

“Mhm.”

You suck in a breath and pat your legs before easing yourself up off of the couch.

“I'm gonna go see what they’re up to, then.”

You’re so bold as to lay a gentle hand briefly on his shoulder as you pass him by, lingering just long enough to let something sincere slip.

“I hope you enjoy the book.”

He kicks his folded legs back out, crossing them as they come to rest on the opposite armrest once again.

“Don’t spoil it for me.”

You smile at his avoidance of your sentimentality, laughing a bit as you cross the room, headed for the back door, your tone playful.

“I make no promises!”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! You can find my (lengthy) commentary on this fic in the end notes right here on Ao3. Links to the playlist and moodboard for [N]MbD can be found on this blog's pinned post, as well as in the series notes on Ao3. Header Image Source: x

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sweetprfct · 10 months ago

Text

High Infidelity

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Did you really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? Did you really have to tell him how he brought you back to life?

Author's Note: A short little epilogue to wrap things up. Thanks for keeping up with this story. It was a hard one for me to write because like I said before, it was based off my real life emotional trauma and it's almost as if it's a letter to my past to finally let go. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: 18+, emotional abuse, mention of harming, infidelity

(Please, please don't read this if it triggers you. I need you all to think hard about it before reading this one. This is a bit of a dark fic).

Wordcount: 1.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - epilogue

Two Years Later…

“I don’t know. Sometimes I still feel guilty, but I know I’m in a better place.” You said as you stared at your laptop screen.

“That’s good to hear. I think that the progress you made for the last two years has been really great. I know sometimes memories could take us back into a dark place, but I want you to know that leaving that relationship was a good decision.” Your therapist, Megan, gave you a smile as you nodded your head.

Looking out the window, you stared at the heavy raindrops that fell from the dark clouds outside. You were able to hear the pitter patter of the rain on the roof and the wind that was gusting. Looking back at Megan, you played with your fingers anxiously.

“Does it…” You sighed. “Does it… get better? You know, doing all these exercises you told me and writing some of my feelings down… Will it get better? Will I ever get over what happened? Sometimes I feel like I’m too closed off with Joe because of what happened, and I don’t want that. I want to be better. I want this to be a healthy relationship.”

“What does Joe think about all of that?” Megan asked, tilting her head a little.

You shrugged lightly and said, “He understands it. He tells me that but sometimes, I feel worried that what if he’s slowly resenting me? I never want to be a burden to him. I want to make this relationship work because I love him.”

“Well, you said it yourself that you two have open communication, correct?”

You nodded your head as Megan continued, “I think what’s happening here is that the trust that you have built before was taken down when you were with Eli, but you also have to remember that Joe is different, and you told me that he has proved that many times. I know it can be scary but maybe, you also have to start trusting his words. Trust that he would tell you how he really feels in certain situations.”

“Yeah,” You let out another sharp breath. “I think so too. I’m trying.”

“That’s good. Just take it step by step. You will eventually get there. Progress doesn’t happen in just a day. It takes time.”

You gave Megan a smile and went on to talk about other things that were happening in your life lately. You told her how you quit your job being in Joe’s team because dating him and working for him was something that made you uncomfortable, and Joe did agree with you on that. You started working as a crew member on a movie set and somehow, it made it feel therapeutic for you. The busy long hours had occupied your mind, and you were able to really think about what was best for you.

Joe never had gotten in the way of that. He told you that he would support you with anything that could make you happy. It was a different feeling when you first heard those words coming from him, but it was good different. Some days, you doubt the capability that you have through your job or your ability to trust yourself and some days, you start learning about the things that you really wanted and that was also a good thing.

Slowly, you felt those broken pieces glued back together and as months went by, you almost felt whole. It was almost as if you were slowly finding yourself. You weren’t there yet, but you knew that you were at least getting there.

Step by step.

Just like what Megan had told you.

Usually, you would see Megan physically in her office but not today or the next week or so because Joe had suggested to take a holiday outside of the city. Somewhere quiet, and you couldn’t agree more.

You both needed it.

You have been seeing Megan ever since you had broken up with Eli, and she has been such a huge help in dealing with your trauma. Joe had suggested getting into therapy and at the beginning, you were hesitant about it because you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to talk to a stranger about your own problems. However, as time went on, Megan had become someone you could trust. Someone you could tell your problems to and open up about how you were feeling.

Maybe you also needed to do the same with Joe. Trust that whatever he tells you, he is telling the truth. That everything was fine, and you need to stop being anxious over the fact that maybe you were disappointing him because he would have told you if there was a problem, right?

Closing your laptop, you leaned back onto the chair. It was still early in the morning. You still felt a bit sleepy, but you had woken up because of your short session with Megan since she also had other appointments for today. Stretching your arms above your head, you yawned softly and got up from the chair. The sun was slowly rising from the horizon, and it was reflecting beautifully onto the lake outside. The cabin floors creaked under your steps as you walked back towards the bedroom.

There, you found Joe still asleep. He was on his stomach, both arms under his pillow, curls all disarray and face buried in his pillow. He looked peaceful, and you couldn’t help but admire him for a moment. Walking towards the bed, you quietly slid yourself under the duvet as Joe stirred in his sleep.

“Hey, darling.” Joe gave you a sleepy smile, his eyes were still closed as he reached his arm towards you.

“Hey, sorry to wake you up.” You whispered, your fingers running softly through his curls.

Joe breathed heavily as he softly grunted, turning himself on his back and pulling you close in his arms. His body heat was making you feel warm as you pulled the duvet closer to your chest. His hand was softly rubbing your arm as he planted a soft kiss on your hair.

“How’s Megan?” He asked, his voice was deep and raspy.

“She’s fine. She has a busy day, so she thought maybe we could do the session a little early. I didn’t mind.” You reached to pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

Joe’s eyes were still closed as he sleepily smiled. You rested your head on his chest as he tightened his grip around you. There was a comfortable silence between the both of you for a moment. You could only hear the rain that was pouring outside.

“I believe you, you know?” You murmured, gazing up at him.

Joe opened one eye, looking down at you with a curious look on his face.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“The things you say… I know sometimes I doubt them because sometimes they sound or feel unreal, but I know in my heart I believe them.”

Finally, Joe opened his eyes, a small smile appeared on his face.

“I know, darling.” He said. “I know what you have gone through, and I know it’s difficult, so I understand. I would never lie to you, and I never want you to feel as if I’m hiding something or I’m hiding my feelings. Remember what I said? I want to be open to you.”

You nodded your head, smiling. You moved from where you were and hovered over Joe, straddling his hips as you leaned down and kissed him deeply. Joe smiled through the kiss as you ran his fingers through your hair and pulled you down closer to his body.

“Hmm…” Joe grinned. “What a good morning.”

You giggled softly, leaning down to give him another quick peck on the lips. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Joe buried his face on your neck, leaving soft feathered kisses on them.

“That’s not what I meant!” You laughed, holding onto his shoulders as he sat up on the bed.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as you sat on his lap and his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face. His chocolate button eyes studied your face for a moment, his thumb found your cheek as he softly brushed it. Then, it trailed down to the shape of your lips, tracing it softly before sliding his hand on the back of your head and leaned closed to your face.

“I love you so much.” He whispered.

You could feel his breath against your lips. Shivers went down your spine as his lips grazed softly against your cheek. The kiss was light, almost like a breeze of the wind on your skin. Then, he pressed his lips on the line of your jaw, making you gasp softly. Your hands on his shoulders gripped them tighter. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking on the skin softly, and you had to bite back a moan as he continued to kiss your skin.

“Don’t hold back.” He whispered, smiling through the kiss. “I love it when you make those sounds.”

You bit your lower lip, stopping yourself from smiling as he kissed down your throat and down to your collarbone. He was making your head spin that you could barely breathe. You could barely think, and the world around you was just now a blur.

Time has stopped.

Joe’s lips continued to travel down your chest and you let out a soft moan as his fingers gently ran down your bare back.

“Come here.” You cupped his face with both of your hands. “I need to kiss you.”

You gazed down at him before pressing your lips against his, kissing him deeply. Both of your lips moved together as you gently pushed him back down on the bed and hovered over him. His hand had found the back of your head and his spare hand was under your shirt, caressing your back softly and a small moan escaped his lips. Joe was breathing heavily as you continued to kiss him hungrily and passionately this time.

“I love you too.” You murmured through the kiss.

Pulling away from the kiss, Joe gazed up at you and smiled. There was no other person he loved the most than you. You could see it all over his face, and you could see it in his eyes. You love him so much too, and you knew that you were still trying to work things out with your trauma and past, but you also knew that what you and Joe have was right.

Everything seemed like it was a perfect piece in the puzzle.

In time, you also knew that you would also find yourself.

Just step by step.

The End.

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #Joseph Quinn fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #High Infidelity #epilogue #sweetprfct

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miltheperson · 2 years ago

Text

Priest!Wally Darling x Fallen angel!Reader

(A small breather from all the requests! This idea happened to spring up on me during the evening so suddenly, haha!) (Also this is quite… er… different from the usual fluffy stories I write… So… warning!) (Don’t worry! These won’t be the main things I write on here! My fics will readily go back to fluffy and cute right after this!)

Inspired by an old tale!

CW/TW: Possessive Behavior, Slight-moderate manipulation?, Darker topic and story, mentions of cult-ish religion, mentions of religion-related topics.

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

What Belongs To Me.

It was almost like you had fallen on purpose.

You had descended from the skies with a loud crash, right outside of Wally’s church. When Wally had found you, he had taken you in and decided to take care of you.

He believed you were a blessing from Home.

A gift sent upon his doorstep.

A blessing.

When you had awoken from your slumber, you were weak and agitated. You had fallen from the realm of angels, you didn’t want anything to do with earth, along with the people that ruled it.

Wally was absolutely captivated by you, your beauty and divine presence had him almost addicted. He was enamored and he felt such deep affection for you.

What a divine blessing from Home!

Rejoice! Rejoice!

You were clueless to Wally’s feelings, only seeing him as the kind person who had offered his church for you to stay and recover. You were terribly homesick and missed Eden so much, you wondered if your friends up there were looking for you, wondering what had happened and why you had disappeared.

Not need to worry though…

Wally was with you all the way.

Every step of the way he was right there for you…

You made the mistake of telling him some very interesting information one day while you sat with him on one of the pews.

“Once I go back home… I will forever remember your kindness… And I will tell them all about you.” You looked over at him with a smile, looking truly grateful.

“Oh, please. I was only doing what any good disciple of god would do.” Wally nodded, smiling right back at you. Of course, up to this point you had thought he was talking about the God that you served… Not the more… malicious… being.

“I am sure our Lord will be very pleased with you, Wally.” You chuckled softly.

“(Name)? May I perhaps… Ask you something? I’m just a little curious, is all.” Wally asked you politely, voice calm and serene as always.

“Yes, you may.” You nodded.

“About that halo of yours… What is so special about it? You seem to be taking great care of it.” He pointed at the glowing object above your head.

“You see, Wally. All angels and holy beings of God are given a halo as… Some sort of key to enter Eden… It signifies that you are a being of God and that you are able to enter Eden.” You explained to him.

“… And what happens when you… Don’t… Have your halo?” Wally looked as if he was very interested and very curious.

You thought it was because he wanted to learn more…

He did want to learn more… But for the wrong reasons.

“You are no longer able to reach Eden.” You answered his question solemnly. “Angels who have their halo taken away or broken here, are bound to stay on earth for eternity. We need to fly to be able to reach Eden, and our abilities come from our halo.” You continued to say.

“People can just take your halos away? Just like that?” Wally tilted his head, the shadow in his eyes seemingly increasing. Devious plans formed in his head.

“Only when an angel is vulnerable, can a person steal it… Instances such as an injured angel or a sleeping one, those are moments of vulnerability.”

“Hm… I see… Well it’s good that you’ve stumbled here then… It would have been such a misfortune if you had landed on… the wrong… persons doorstep…” Wally smirked a little, an almost taunting tone to his voice.

You smiled at this, believing in his “good intentions”.

“I am forever grateful… Soon, I will have regained my strength to fly… I will repay your kindness one day.” You bowed a little, truly grateful for him.

Wally’s eyes darkened as he stared at you.

You will be able to… leave…? So soon?

No.

No he can’t allow that.

That is not what Home intended for you.

Home did not want you to leave.

He. Did not want you to leave.

He can not let you leave.

Not when you mean so much to him.

His little angel.

His. Angel.

Leaving?

No.

He would not allow that.

He could not. allow. that.

And so, now the priest stood over your form as you slept so peacefully.

The halo above your head continue to glow even as you slept, casting that divine lighting over your captivating features.

He couldn’t help but smile, fixing the hair on your face.

You belonged here.

You belonged… To With him.

This is what Home wanted for you.

This is what Home intended.

Wally grabbed hold of the halo, staring at your sleeping face.

All he had to do now…

Was take it…

And break it…

Wally started to pull your halo, feeling resistance as he did. He was insistent, continuing to pull even as it stubbornly resisted his pull. The halo started to flicker, the resistance growing weaker and weaker. With one final pull, the halo ripped away from your head.

Wally stared at the halo for a moment, turning it this way and that. It was smooth to the touch and the glow was dull.

He took both ends, staring down at you with a dark glare.

You… stay… here.

CRACK.

He snapped the halo in half like it was candy, the halo dissolving into dust.

You woke up with a gasp, breathing heavily.

There was a stinging pain in your chest and you felt nauseous.

What happened?!

You started to shriek, grabbing your chest in pain. Wally quickly walked over, placing his hands over you. “(Name)?? (Name) what’s wrong!” He feigned worry, trying his best to comfort you.

You yelled out and writhed, it looked like you were burning.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”

You hurled yourself to the side, dry heaving and spilling out a golden shimmery liquid from your lips. You breathed heavy ragged breaths, looking at Wally with terror in your eyes.

“What… What happened to me…?” Your voice was coarse.

“… Your halo… It’s gone…” Wally looked saddened and horrified.

“No… No… No! NO, NO, NO!”

You screamed, your hands flying to your head, only to feel an empty place where your halo used to be.

You leapt to your feet, running out of the room.

Wally only walked after you, a light smirk to his face.

You can’t leave now…

You were here to stay…

With him..

He watched as you tried to fly, your wings flapping tirelessly.

You would lift into the air just barely, only to flop back down onto the ground.

You were sobbing and crying, lamenting that you would no longer be able to go home.

“(Name)… Dear… Please do calm down…”

Wally masked his smirk with a sigh, approaching your sobbing form.

When you stared at him, he knew now…

That he…

Got what he wanted…

You were truly…

His…

Little angel now…

#welcome home #welcome home fanfic #wally darling #wally x you #wally x reader #surprisingly these are actually my roots haha!#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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freedomfireflies · 2 years ago

Note

Hey lovey,

How are you doing? First and foremost, I’m so happy to have stumbled upon your blog—I absolutely adore your writing. You have such a beautiful ability to convey a story even in such a few words.

I know I’ve already requested a little something before, but in the event you do find time, and interest in my request, would you write something else for Chris?

Your latest blurb with Harry and Chris reminded me of a fic I read a while back about reader being Chris’ younger girlfriend and him being quite jealous and uncomfortable of her closeness to Harry Styles, given his age.

If you are comfortable, I’d love to see your take on Chris and a younger reader, who’s in her twenties. I don’t really have a premise in mind, but I feel given his history with anxiety and desire to settle down he’d be second guessing his decision to be with someone younger and maybe even feel insecure.

Thanks, sweetheart. 🤍

You are so sweet, thank you so much for reading and requesting 😭💞

“Right, which is exactly what I told him…before I realized he wasn’t even listening.”

“Oh, he never is, no. Unless you’re talking about statistical reports or the number of shares involved, he won’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“See, that would have been good advice before I wasted half an hour of my life trying to explain why Jack and Rose both being able to fit on the door was a moot point.”

Harry laughs as he crosses his arms and leans back against the wall. “Oh, well, now I’ve gotta hear this.”

Pleased to share, you clear you throat and sneak a glance at Chris. He’s heard this spiel a hundred times, and he smiles knowingly as he nods at you to continue. “Okay, well, obviously they both could have fit. Duh, that’s the first thing they try in the movie. But the second Jack climbs on top, it starts to sink, because it can’t support both their weight. Therefore, they both would have frozen to death, and Jack made the choice to die for her.”

Harry smirks, head shaking as he glances down at the floor. “Well…shit.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “I will die on this hill, it’s such a stupid argument. Because even if things had been different, Jack still would have chosen to die for her because that’s just who his character was. And, honestly? I think we can all agree that saving Leonardo Dicpario just…isn’t worth it anymore?”

He laughs again as Chris slips an arm around your hip and grins down at you.

“You…might have a point," Harry muses.

“Thank you,” you sigh, before you feel a familiar sort of tapping on your waist. You straighten up. “Anyway, thank you so much again for inviting us to your show. It was…so great to see you again, Har. Really. You’re doing so many amazing things. And I’m really proud of you.”

A lifetime of memories pass between you as Harry meets your eye and offers that understanding smile you’re so used to.

“Anytime,” he says gently, throwing a grin to Chris as well. “Seriously, both of you are always welcome. Just let me know and I’ll make it happen.”

“We might just take you up on that,” you smirk before the tapping on your side increases. “Thank you again, and hey—good luck on your tour.”

“God, yeah, thanks,” he laughs as the rest of his team begins to fervently gesture him over. He winces. “I’m gonna need it.”

With that, he tosses you both a wave before the three of you part ways and disappear down different ends of the hall.

The drumming continues all the way down the corridor and even after you’ve rounded the corner.

It’s not until you find yourselves alone that you place your hand over Chris’s and give it a firm squeeze. “Okay, all right. What’s wrong?”

You slow to a stop, quickly turning to face him as you watch him sigh and look down at the floor. “Nothing. I’m fine, I’m just ready to go.”

But you know him. You know each nervous tic. You know he only taps your hip when he’s anxious. When he needs a reminder that you’re there.

“Chris…” you try again, fingers tangling in his shirt as you tug. “You promised.”

He looks at you, eyebrows weaving through the lace of guilt as he slips his hands around your wrists. “I know, but it’s nothing. Really—”

“Baby—”

“I…just…” He sighs yet again, one palm dragging down his beard. “Look, I know…I know he’s a part of your past. Okay, I know that. And I accept that, I just…I don’t know how to not…think about it.”

Your head tilts as you squeeze his shirt a bit harder between your hands. “Think about what?”

He goes quiet for a moment, eyes flicking between yours. “If you would have been…happier. With him.”

You lean back, almost as if struck by the very notion. “Why…baby, why would you say that?”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and shakes his head, seemingly embarrassed. “I know. I know, I just…you guys have a lot of shared history, you know? And I know he’s closer to your age, can maybe give you things that I can’t. So, seeing you guys together, it just…reminds me that I’m not…that I can’t be your past the way he can. That he’ll always be a part of what led you to me…and I just…I fucking hate that.”

With a wounded heart, your eyes soften. “And what is it you think he can give me that you can’t?”

“I don’t know. A husband that you don’t have to push around in a wheelchair,” he huffs, and there’s a hint of teasing, but you know he’s not kidding. “And he’s probably got a little more stamina than I do these days. Can go more places, do more things. Be who you need him to be. And being with him would probably open a lot of doors.”

“Okay, well, I can open my own doors, thank you,” you playfully retort, and you’re rewarded with a gentle smirk. “I’m gonna be honest, it sounds like you think about him a hell of a lot more than I do.”

He snorts and glances off down the hall. “Funny.”

“I mean it.” Your fingers tug once more on his nice dress shirt. “I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to go on that first date with you. I knew people would talk about our age difference, and I knew there would be things we’d have to work out. I knew. And I still said yes.”

He looks back.

“You know why?” you whisper, now reaching up to press your palm to his cheek. “Because adult diapers or not…I love you. I always will. You’re Captain fucking America, for pete’s sake! And obviously it’s not about how you look. It’s about who you are…but you better believe Harry was eating his fucking heart out when he saw who he lost to.”

He laughs. In that familiar, boyishly charming way you’re so obsessed with. “Wow, thanks. No, that was good. That was good. I’m cured.”

Your response is to reach up and press your lips into his. Firm but loving. Filled with every promise you might never be able to verbally make.

But every promise you plan to keep.

For a moment, he stills, seemingly taken aback by the sudden rush of intimacy. But, after a moment, his hands find a home on your waist, as they always do, and he seems to unwind.

And once you’re sure he’s begun to release some of his anguish, you pull back to see him. Really see him.

“Baby…and I need you to really hear me when I say this…you are the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper, overcome with emotion.

He smiles, exhaling a gentle laugh as if amused with your effort but you’re far from done.

Your grip becomes a little harder. “I’m serious, okay? Things with Harry…were fine. They were fine. And yeah, maybe he’s a small part of what brought me to you, but you…Chris, you? You…are fucking everything.”

The smile slowly slips off his face at the earnest fervor in your voice.

“Every day when I wake up and see you in bed—in our bed—it reminds me that you weren’t just the right decision. Okay, you are the only decision. You are the only thing that makes sense for me. The only person that I need to be with. Fuck the past. The only future I want looks like you. It is you. You are all of it.”

And you’ve never meant anything more, and you can only hope that he feels exactly how much he means to you.

His expression softens as he releases a deep breath and slips his palm around the back of your neck to keep you close.

“I know that doesn’t fix it,” you tell him gently. “I know that. You think I like running into Minka Kelly and remembering your past? Fuck no. But there is nothing—and I mean this—that Harry could have given me. Nothing. I don’t even—I mean, I can’t even imagine what a future with him would have looked like. I don’t want to imagine.”

Your touch moves to his chest once again, fingers tapping over his heart.

“When I see him, I don’t think about anything else but you,” you continue. “Honestly. I mean look at you. Come on. Harry doesn’t stand a fucking chance next to you. Not with that receding hairline of his and the complete lack of communicational skills. Seriously, you were such an upgrade for me, it’s not even funny—”

He dips down and kisses you again. Harder this time. As if to say everything he doesn’t know how to say aloud.

“I love you,” he whispers, nose nudging against yours. “I really, really love you.”

“I know,” you whisper back, smiling rather giddily. “And I mean it, Christopher Robert Jamal Evans. You are the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He groans playfully at the use of his full name but kisses you again anyway.

And you let him. Because kissing him feels like coming home. It feels like finally finding your place in the world.

It just feels…right.

“Take me home,” you murmur the moment his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. “Take me home and make me your future.”

And who is he to say no?

His arm quickly loops around your lower back to tug you into his chest before he leaves you with one final reminder of who he is to you.

And you don’t imagine you’ll ever forget.

“Promise,” he says, smirking victoriously as his hand travels to your ass to give it a quick squeeze.

And you laugh before leading him out of the arena, hand and hand, the anxious tapping now nowhere to be found.

And you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

~ Other Chris Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#chris #chris evans #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans request #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #angst #chris evans fluff #harry styles #blurb #request

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naiatabris · 1 year ago

Text

Day 1: "First Time"

Fellow BG3 addicts! Have you seen the BG3 February Writing/Creativity Challenge? 29 days of prompts for creativity of all kinds!

This is a little drabble that I couldn't quite mold into a full fic (it was actually a discarded part of "be selfish for me"). It technically responds to the NSFW day 1 prompt, "First Time," but it's a SFW look at how I think the leadup to the first time would have gone for Gale and my sorcerer Alys. I hope you enjoy!

***************

"I can't do this, Gale." Alys shifted away from him as she fought the urge to cry. Tears sprung to her eyes; through the moisture, Gale’s brilliant sky looked even more lovely, and seemed even more devastating. "If you're planning to kill yourself, don't ask me to help you accept it.”

"Alys. I—you know what we face." Gale's expression was sorrowful. "Gods know I have no wish to do this. But Mystra's orders…"

"I don’t give a damn what Mystra ordered," Alys snapped.

She hated how her voice sounded in that moment—childish, petulant, jealous. Once she would have thought that jealousy was beneath her. But she'd spent weeks—months, really—longing for Gale, drawn to his kindness and his brilliance, wishing he would look at her and see more than a magical colleague.

It felt hopeless, though. Alys didn't lack for self-confidence, but even she doubted her ability to compete with a goddess for Gale's heart. She didn't think he was blind to her charms; he'd given her compliments here and there, told her she was radiant after battle. But none of it had led to anything more than words, and blaming Mystra was the easiest and most satisfying way to deal with her disappointment.

Then again, Mystra damn well deserved some blame.

"I don't know what she's playing at, casting you off without a word and then popping back up to tell you to end your own life, but I am not going to help her talk you into it," she continued heatedly.

Gale’s expression pleaded for understanding; his eyes were wide and open, his expression pained. "Alys, I…"

"Stop," she ordered, fighting tears as a torrent of emotion rushed through her.

"If you would just listen…"

"I'm in love with you, Gale Dekarios," she blurted, the words pouring from her like water from an upended jug, fast and messy and impossible to stop. "And you don't feel the same way and that's fine, but don't you dare ask me to—to sit here under a sky you made to help yourself make peace with dying."

"I made the sky for you!"

Alys had been planning to spring to her feet and storm off. But that changed things. She felt her mouth gape open in the most ridiculous way. "For… me?"

"Yes, for you," Gale said, exasperated. "Because I'm trying to tell you that I'm in love with you. Only now you've said it first and I'm going to have to discard the entire speech I had planned." He shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips despite his irritated tone. "You have the most infuriating yet delightful way of putting me off balance."

He reached for her hand, taking it in his, and Alys twined her fingers against his, scarcely daring to breathe. Gale’s eyes met hers, and she saw an apology in them.

“You really didn’t know?” he asked softly.

Alys shook her head. “I—I thought you could, maybe, if things were different. But it seemed that you had so much else on your mind. I couldn’t imagine there might be room for me.”

“Oh, Alys.” He swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. “I wish—gods, how I wish I had the time to do this properly. To say it all better, to court you the way you deserve. But time is…”

Alys didn’t want him to finish that sentence. She didn’t want to hear him say that his time was short, that his sacrifice was the only way. So she leaned forward and stopped the words with a kiss, gentle and eager, filled with all her affection and warmth and longing.

And Gale kissed her back, and for that moment as their lips touched, it felt as if they had all the time in the world.

#bg3ficfeb #my writing #drabble #ch: gale dekarios #gale x tav #bg3 fanfiction

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rriavian · 1 year ago

Text

Slightly different take than the premise @aisalynn came up with so hopefully I can entice them into writing a vampire au too. And maybe @seiya-starsniper with that iwtv idea :)

So! The fic! The Corinthian is a vampire, and Dream is the weirdly immortal entity he’s obsessed with. Had a couple of options for this but settled on Dream is (still) the Greek god Morpheus who’s spending his spare time vampire hunting and looking very good while he does it. Why is he doing it? Well, vampires don’t sleep/dream once they are turned and yeah that could potentially offend a god but…a group of them once caught Morpheus unawares and drank his blood which is far more offensive actually.

And it also gave them back the ability to dream which is doubly insulting and so Morpheus was like how dare you.

To keep that a secret—and also punish them for the theft—Morpheus goes on a vampire killing spree. And then keeps it as a hobby. The Corinthian is already a vampire doing his own unhinged thing, but he catches sight of Morpheus somewhere somehow and is like ooh. But he doesn’t actually know who he’s messing with. So he manages to drink his blood—this would involve some sexy wall/floor pinning probably—and then is faced with a very very pissed off god.

(He’s into it)

Anyway he's lucky enough not to be murdered (maybe Morpheus gets distracted and lets him go?) but he does fall even deeper into obsession. The Corinthian realises he can now dream and is like ok I’ve gotta figure out who this mysterious immortal is because not only is this a little odd but I didn’t even get a name. And then there’s some tension filled dream sharing, a bit of ill received flirting, and the Corinthian maybe tries to leverage the fact that he now knows Dream’s secret in order to get laid (and/or more of his delicious blood).

Morpheus is like: I will introduce you to the exact colour of your internal organs if you continue to speak to me this way

The Corinthian with hearts in his eyes: yeah sure would I need to lay down for that or can we do it standing up

Unfortunately Morpheus doesn’t go for this. After being turned down quite spectacularly the Corinthian decides giving up is for losers and that the best course of action is actually to seduce the fuck out of this god. So he goes about figuring out how Morpheus likes to be worshipped.

And then precedes to be far, far too good at it.

Morpheus is annoyed at how flattered he is because the world has moved on from ancient times so he’s mostly been forgotten. He’s still just as powerful but people don’t know about him the way they used to. No one’s built him a temple or left him an offering in centuries. They don’t even say his name anymore. And they certainly don’t murmur prayers the way the Corinthian does, or with such descriptive content…

The first time it happens and he actually blushes Morpheus is enraged that he’s become so easy. That his standards of worshippers have fallen so far that this small thing is making him squirm.

What happens next is a matter of pride. (Is it though?)

In typical Dream fashion Morpheus is like ok I’m going to demand more and more, because if this vampire wants to worship a god then he better worship a god. Cue even more intense dream sharing. And Morpheus very reluctantly starts to become just as obsessed in return while happily denying it. Just fighting it the whole time while also acting increasingly possessive towards his vampire. Mostly he manages to keep this a secret through the use of carefully blank facial expressions and a lot of casual threats.

Though sometimes he slips.

One day he’s daydreaming about the Corinthian’s pretty gold hair and accidentally shares it with him.

(That’s it I have to kill him now.)

#corintheus #dream of the endless #the corinthian #the sandman #fic idea #i will write this at some point #vampire au fic

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bots-and-cons · 1 year ago

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I've noticed people had invested in your story of your scarlet witch reader story so am i, but i understand if you don't want to write this anymore if that makes u uncomfortable then i'm sorry and i understand. But here's my request :

I want to ask for a request one-shot for Scarlet Witch Reader with Wheeljack to have a moment together before Redear's "death", like Jackie noticed her depressed moment one time, alone, away from the bots and wanted to talk to her if Reader needs some comfort but all the Raeder had said :

"I'm sorry...i know you're trying....I'm just so tired ..." Reader mumured, voice cracking, finally gives in. "And every single time I thought it was over I’d arrogantly sit right here, thinking I will suddenly be healed and ready to move on, being accepting again. Little did I know that the wave would keep crashing---knocking me right back down again. A continuous wave I can’t escape from. And eventually, it’s just going to drown me."

Since Wheeljack is the only one bot who didn't resent the Reader or didn't treat her like a monster, how will Wheeljack react to Reader's confession? Will he comfort her? Giving an advice or at least a hug? Will that moment haunt him after her "gone"?

Oh yeah, people seemed really interested in that one. I don’t mind writing more fic stuff for it, it's just that I got a bit tired of answering all the questions about it. I don't even remember everything I said, so this might not go according to what I wrote before. Since I didn’t tag them with anything special, I can't be bothered to look for them either, so here I go with my ramblings again. I wanted to do a scenario, which is why I left this as the last request. The first part to this, or I guess what would come after this can be found here. Just a little disclaimer, the last time I watched TFP was in 2019 so I barely have any memory of Jackie’s character because I write him so rarely. I apologize if this is severely OOC

You’d made your decision, you would disappear. When and how though? You weren’t sure but you would take your chance when you saw it. You packed a bag and hid it in the locker at a nearby bus terminal. You could get to it after you got away from the autobots so you would have something to start with.

On one of your final days with the autobots, you were just wandering around the base aimlessly. You weren’t sure what you were even doing there anymore. Sure the autobots were trying to keep you safe from the decepticons, but you could do that by yourself too. You were strong enough to do that.

For about the last half a year, things had been getting progressively worse. It started almost immediately after the autobots took you under their protection. You were helping them fight some of the decepticons and a boulder you threw hit the wrong target. You hit Bulkhead in the back making him fall down. He almost got his helm crushed in by Breakdown in the process, but managed to avoid the hammer strike at the last second. That’s when it started. The judgemental looks and hushed whispers.

You thought they would be different, that the autobots would understand because they too were different, but you were wrong. You thought they wouldn’t try to chain you down and make you keep your powers hidden, but they did. Ratchet was especially skeptical about your ability to control your powers, and as the little mistakes started piling up, the skepticism spread.

Aside from the incident with Bulkhead, nothing serious happened again, but all the little mistakes and accidents were interpreted as malicious on your part.

“Hey (Name)!” Wheeljack exclaimed, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm?” you turned around to face him.

Wheeljack had noticed you were getting progressively more tired and anxious during the last few weeks. He had noticed the others treating you in a way that was in his opinion quite unfair. Jackie hadn’t exactly vocally protested against Arcee or Ratchet’s comments, but he hadn’t agreed with them either.

“Ya doin okay?” he asked.

“I’ve seen better days” you joked halfheartedly.

“Come with me” Jackie said, turning to walk back down the hall.

“Where are you taking me exactly?”

“I just thought we could talk without someone eavesdroppin on us” he shrugged, heading for the elevator. “Besides, ya need to get out of this place sometimes”

You followed him, not really saying anything as you took the elevator up to the top. It wasn’t very cold outside yet, so you could easily stay up there for a while without a jacket. You sat down on a rock as you looked at the sunset. If you were lucky, this would be one of your last nights at the base. It was a bit of a pity to lose such a great sunset watching spot though. You sat there for a while, not saying anything, just looking at the horizon.

“So, what’s going on with ya lately? You seem pretty down nowadays”

“I’m sorry, I know you’re trying, you’re probably the only who gives a damn about me anymore anyway” you muttered.

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Jackie said, not really sure if he was lying or not.

“I thought I could find a place here with you guys. A place where I wouldn’t be shunned, but apparently that’s not the case. I thought I could heal here, to finally find some sort of kinship with someone who understands what it’s like to be different, to be unfairly feared by others, but I just keep getting knocked down, continuously…” you vented, not sure why you were suddenly opening up to him like this.

You and Wheeljack weren’t even particularly close, but he was the only one who had never really held your powers against you like the others had. Even though he didn’t defend you against the other bots, not that they ever said what they thought to your face anyway, he never looked at you judgmentally.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I let it all out like that” you sighed.

That was the last talk Wheeljack had with you. He never really believed you had died after you disappeared, but he never went looking for you. Based on what you’d said before you disappeared, if you were still out there, you were probably happier without the autobots, and that’s all he could ask for.

Still, he felt like he should’ve done more. He should’ve at least said something but he didn’t know how to answer you. He didn’t know how to comfort you, or it was even his place to do so. Now it was too late, you were gone, and dead or not he wouldn’t get a second chance, but maybe it was better that way.

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #autobots #wheeljack #tfp scenarios #transformers angst #reader insert #platonic transformers x reader

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you-remind-me-of-the-babe · 2 years ago

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I have been having ✨A Time✨ recently, both writing and personally, so my sharing today is a 🔥Hot Mess🔥 (much like my brain rn). Feel free to skip if you have no patience for my rambling.

But first, thank you for the tags today @fatalfangirl @j-nipper-95 and Wednesday @palimpsessed @artsyunderstudy @forabeatofadrum @ivelovedhimthroughworse @chen-chen-chen-again-chen

Adding just a few tags today because I don’t want to burden too many people with my word vomit @cutestkilla @captain-aralias @shrekgogurt @ebbpettier @whogaveyoupermission @aristocratic-otter @facewithoutheart @raenestee @thewholelemon @hushed-chorus 😘

On to said rambling. Really, truly. Last chance to back out from delving into Writerly Indecision Hour. You have been warned. Below the cut for length:

Ok! I have mostly been trying to get chapter 6 of Depth of Reason up and running. I know what I want the bulk of the chapter to be about, but I have been having trouble writing the start and getting them to that point. I have two separate documents going, one with 1k, the other with 2k, and both of them feel like they aren’t quite how I want to start. Why don’t I just jump into the parts I want to write and go back to do the start later, you might ask? Well, for better or worse, I usually have to write in a linear fashion and writing scenes out of order rarely work for me.

So! My plan was to start with Simon and Baz out to lunch with Penny, getting some legal advice on how best to take on the Coven. My first attempt had a some Simon/Penny banter as they walked to the restaurant, as I wanted to toggle back to their relationship, and checking in on Penny’s pregnancy. Here’s a bit:

“Are you feeling okay?”

She sighs. “Yes, just a side ache. My body has become far less efficient these days. I hate it.”

“You’re growing a human from scratch. I’d say your body has become far more efficient than it’s ever going to be in your life.”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t know how my mother did this five times. I’m barely halfway through this pregnancy and I’m already tired of getting winded going up a flight of stairs and getting heartburn any time I eat something spicy.”

“Maybe your mum just really had it bad for your dad.” I waggle my eyebrows at her.

Penny groans and laughs at that. “Please stop, you’re making it worse.”

Not bad, but I got stuck a little further down once they got to the restaurant with Baz. Basically, I wanted some tension with Penny not fully on board with how Simon has been handling things and taking it out on Baz. But then I got stuck on how I wanted said tension to go. So then I started another document getting straight into the legal advice. Here is a bit of that:

“That fact of the matter is, Baz broke the law simply by existing as an unregistered vampire,” Penny continues. “According to the Dark Creature Management Code of 2018, any individuals who did not voluntarily come forward and self register within 90 days of either their birth or their turning, depending on the type of creature, was in violation of said code and would be subject to the legal ramifications set forth under—”

“Penny,” I stop her. “We already know all of that. You don’t have to read us the whole law.”

Sigh. This bit gets tricky, too. Basically, I need to lay out what their plan of attack is and how they are going to take on The System. I need to strike a balance between giving the reader enough legal background without it being a snooze fest. (Cue Simon trying to speed her through the legalese to get to the crux of what they need to do.) I started this bit with having Penny compare the World of Mages’ judicial system to the UK at large, assuming it was much like what we have in the US. Upon further research…it is not. And my ability to understand and parse out this differences is limited. Therefore, I am going to have to take out some of these explanations and just lean heavily on my made up WOM system for this fic. Which led to this (slightly aggressive) note to myself in the middle of a scene:

DO I SHORTEN THIS WHOLE THING AS MORE OF A FLASHBACK AND GET US THROUGH THE ADVICE AND THROUGH PENNY DOING SOME SORT OF DONT FUCK THINGS UP FOR SIMON THING TO BAZ SO THAT WE CAN MOVE THE STORY TO THEM GOING TO WATFORD FOR CHARACTER WITNESSES?????

the Watford scene is what I wanted this chapter to really be about. The other stuff is just the lead in to get there. But some of it really is important.

This writing struggle is compounded by the fact that I broke my toe this week, had my car brake down, and I’m in the middle of report card and parent conference season at school. Plus dealing with all of my other obligations with family and such while limping slowly about. Anyways! If you read this far I love you and appreciate your interest in my struggle. 😅 I genuinely enjoy reading posts like this about other writer’s processes and road blocks, because it makes me feel like I’m in good company when the words don’t just flow with ease. If it feels like the muses have temporarily abandoned you, believe me, I get it! Here’s to hoping they bless us again soon. 💛

#my writing #depth of reason #carry on fanfiction

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batbratsbrokenwing · 4 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

A Gotham Knights au/slight canon divergence; where Turner has an older brother, his brother knows the Row twins, and things just happen differently. The main premise is the same: trying to figure out who murdered their father and why.

Enjoy this long snippet from my fic, Broken Wings.

“So, help me God, Turner, I am not above breaking and entering. Don’t think that just because you’re my brother I won’t bust down this door! I have done it before, and I will do it again. Swear to God, I’m not afraid of the GCPD. Do not test me,” Hunter shouted, fists pounding rapidly against the wooden barrier.

He was so engrossed in getting his brother’s attention that he failed to notice Cullen approaching behind him until he appeared at his side. “Jesus Christ. Will you stop doing that? It’s fucking creepy, make some noise or something.”

Cullen just smiled. Hunter hated that after so many years he could still sneak up on him if he did it right. He wondered if it was Cullen’s favorite thing to do, but decided he would rather not know the answer.

Hunter and Cullen had been fixed points in each other’s lives for as long as they could remember, neither of them planned on changing that.

“Are you really going to stand there yelling at him through the door?” Cullen asked, tilting his head, amused. “Imagine if we had neighbors.”

“We live in a bell tower, Cullen.”

“That’s the joke, Hunter.”

“Alright, well. Piss off.”

“Is this actually necessary?”

“Yes, quite. Though, it wouldn’t be if Turner would open the fucking door!” Hunter screamed again, raising his fists to rap at it once more. He paused with his arms halfway up, his hands went lax in front of him, and his eyes widened in shock. “Shit” — he blanched at the rawness of his voice, the sharp edge it held — “Sorry, Cullen.” He tried not to lose his temper in front of him, it was an unspoken rule he had upheld until now.

Cullen shook his head, a wide smile stretched across his lips, and a laugh crawled up the back of his throat. He pulled his lockpicking kit from his back pocket, nodding toward the door. “Hunter Hayes, I have seen you monumentally lose your shit over way less. Please don’t stop on my account. Now, should I pick the lock or do you wanna continue with this riveting display? Clearly, it’s working for you.”

Hunter furrowed his eyebrows and stepped aside. His cheeks flamed a dark shade of red that quickly spread across the bridge of his nose to the tip of each ear. It wasn’t the first time Cullen had caught him mid-tantrum and it probably wouldn’t be the last, he was full of piss and vinegar and suppressed frenetic energy. Cullen never seemed to mind.

Hunter took a moment to breathe, inhaling the calmness that Cullen’s presence brought, and exhaling the anger he felt at having his brother storm right past him without a word. Their growing maturity did little to stop the brotherly grievances between them; Hunter often hated the competition for their father’s affection. Cullen had always been a welcome balm for both.

Hunter zeroed in on Cullen’s hands moving the tension wrench and hook pick in the lock, marveled at his ability to move his fingers with such precision, and tried not to get caught staring. The crush he harbored for Cullen would remain unnamed even if he had to tear his own heart and tongue out to do so. Turner was the only one who knew.

“What did he do this time?”

Hunter’s trance-like gaze moved from the door to Cullen who was looking up at him expectantly. He squinted, cleared his throat, and wrung the end of his pullover sweater between his hands. “What?”

Cullen chuckled. “I said, what did Turner do that has you all fucked up this time?”

“No clue,” he admitted, frowning. His left hand went to his hair, fingers tugging harshly at the roots. “He hasn’t said a word to me since he got back from training with Carrie, he just shut himself upstairs and hasn’t come out.”

“Wait a minute, you don’t even know what you’re mad at him for?”

“Um ... no? But, I mean, he blew past me like I wasn’t even there, and he’s been ignoring my attempts to talk all evening. So.”

“So, what? H, I say this as your best friend with all of the respect I can pull out of my ass, grow the fuck up.”

“Hey, whoa. Rude.”

“Turner is a big kid, okay? He can take care of himself, and he can decide whether he wants to talk about what’s going on without his big brother hovering so close all the time.”

“That’s not— But he’s—”

“Seventeen, and he knows how to handle himself.”

“I am not hovering.”

“You are. You’re also pouting.”

Hunter leveled a glare on Cullen where he stood, now facing him. They knew each other inside and out, countless times they had witnessed the peak of anxiety and panic that followed when things happened that they did not understand. Hunter believed his anger was the only way he could control the uncontrollable, and he didn’t know how to turn it off. Cullen never asked him to.

He knew Cullen was right, he always was. It was hard for Hunter to relinquish control, to back off and worry less, to go against every instinct that he had and let Turner find his own way. He was the oldest, his job for 17 years had been watching out for his little brother. When their parents died, he vowed never to stop.

“Look, take it from someone whose sister still acts like he’s going to break if she isn’t right up his ass. You will both be better for it if you just let him be.” Cullen laid a reassuring hand on Hunter’s shoulder and offered a soft understanding smile. “My point is, you will be fine if you can’t control this one thing, H. And Turner’s got this, whatever this is.”

Hunter glanced at the door, hoped Turner knew that he would be there when he was ready, and allowed Cullen to guide him back to the tower where Harper and Stephanie were. Down the hall he could hear his friends laughing, his best friends enjoying the quiet evening.

He would give anything to feel that freedom.

“Come on, Pup,” Cullen said, pulling him by the elbow. “Harper has something to show us. Turner will join when he’s ready.”

Hunter threw his head back, whining. Cullen insisted on using that godforsaken nickname to refer to him and he hated it. Ever since he told the twins that his father was Batman, Cullen couldn’t let it go.

“Or we could just not do Pup. You know? Pup is not a thing.”

“I’ve said it, like, twice.”

“You perpetuate its use, C.”

“It’s cute!”

“It’s demeaning.”

“Oh, do not give me that bullshit. You’re the son of renowned billionaire, CEO, and vigilante, Bruce Wayne-slash-Batman. And do you know what a baby bat is called, Hunter? Pup. It’s called a pup.”

“I’d like to state for the record, one more time, that I never actually knew that Bruce was Batman.”

“Tomato, tomahto.” Cullen shrugged.

Hunter scoffed, made a noise of displeasure and threw himself bodily into the leather armchair. It smelled heavily of Bruce’s aftershave and cologne, as if he’d just been sitting in it. He remembered when he and Turner were little, the way Bruce would sit each of them on one side and share stories from his childhood. How had they convinced Harvey to let them take it?

“Hey,” Cullen said, digging his elbow into Hunter’s side from his perch on the armrest. “He’ll be fine.”

Hunter rolled his eyes, shoved Cullen off, and gave him the finger. “Fuck off, Row. I don’t wanna hear it.”

#cw gotham knights #gotham knights fic #cullen row x oc #gotham knights rewrite #fanfiction #wip wednesday

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cuteniarose · 2 years ago

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can you plz infodump about your ocs?? so new people to your blog can understand them

Hey, anon? I hope you know that this ask is the best one I’ve gotten in all my 3 1/2 years on this hellsite, so thank you!! You really don’t need to know about my OCs to follow this blog cause a) I post once in a blue moon nowadays, and b) it’s rarely about my OCs, BUT SINCE YOU ASKED-

K, so, my main OCs are Suiren and Midori, sisters who just so happen to be Ghazan and Ming-Hua’s daughters. They were 7 and 4 respectively when their parents were imprisoned for trying to kidnap Korra, which led to them being placed in the ‘care’ of Ghazan’s older sister, Haya. What happens to them after that? Well, you’d have to be more specific, since I have about a trillion different AUs featuring them. The two most important ones (aka the ones written down) are:

1. Seeds of the Red Lotus. The very first fic I wrote about them, which I... haven’t updated in two years. It currently stands at 5 chapters BUT I am in the process of rewriting and continuing it. The basic concept is that the girls grow up in utter misery under Haya’s iron fist, and in a desperate attempt to get enough money to leave and live a happy, comfortable life somewhere else, Suiren becomes an assassin at the bright old age of 17. Fast forward 6 years, and Team Avatar, unable to take down the Earth Empire on their own, hire her to kill Kuvira

2. Under the Oak’s Shade. A rather self indulgent AU written as a form of catharsis and spiritual healing. Six months into living with Haya, the girls are taken in by Zhi, a cranky lesbian with a bad sense of direction/P’Li’s firebending teacher from the Red Lotus/my friend @katkastrofa‘s OC from her fic Lost and Found (which, unlike the multichaps I write, is complete and you should go read it immediately). Once I pull myself together to actually figure out how the next instalment in the series should go, this will, most likely, eventually become a Red Lotus Korra AU, which I’m definitely looking forward to writing.

Now that the basics are out of the way, let’s get to actual infodumping about my two precious cinnamon rolls. Most of this info is from SotRL-verse, as that is the main story I’ve got about them, so keep that in mind

Suiren:

23 years old as of 174 AG. Master waterbender and deadly assassin. Cold, calculating and precise in everything she does, leaving no room for error. Takes no shit from anyone, is fiercely defensive and independent, and is the last person to ever accept any help or charity. Confident in her abilities and borderline cocky at times, a lot of which is a front. Extremely short tempered, nihilistic, cynical and high strung, not willing to let anyone get close enough to her to see her hidden vulnerabilities

She wasn’t always like this. A long time ago, back before she lost her parents, she was much, much softer, kinder and more gentle. Her parents called her their little water lily, and the nickname suited her well. However, P’Li’s nickname for her was ‘my little firecracker’, so she very much still had quite a temper even back then. Overall, she was a happy little girl with bright eyes and a mischievous smile who was determined to excel in her waterbending lessons. She was Ming-Hua’s pride and joy. 16 years of taking the brunt of Haya’s anger to shield her sister, as well as destroying the part of herself that wouldn’t let her mindlessly do the bidding of whoever paid her, changed her, perhaps irreversibly.

Her old life still haunts her, though. Genetics played a cruel joke on her – the silky black hair reaching below her waist, the angular features, the prominent cheekbones, the (relatively) short height – it all serves to make her see her mother every single time she glances in the mirror. Being just like her mother was something she once aspired to, but now follows her like a curse. Even the things she got from her dad, dark skin and golden brown eyes, don’t help, and just make her look like Haya, especially when she’s angry

There is another side to her that no one but Midori gets to see. She may not be as soft as sixteen years ago, but she is still capable of love and gentleness. She loves her sister more than anything else in life, has already killed and would die for her. She is very protective of Midori (though often to a fault). She hugs her tight and kisses her forehead and cheeks, quietly sings her (their mother’s) lullabies as she calms her down from a nightmare, heals any and all her wounds, tells her stories of their parents, always puts her first no matter how pained and exhausted she herself is... In short, Suiren took on the role of a self sacrificing parent a long time ago and has played it well

Suiren is a distinguished lesbian but can’t keep a partner longer than a few weeks. Girls fawn all over her, but once they see past the pretty face and confident demeanour and notice everything wrong with her, they run (which only serves to make Suiren’s abandonment issues worse). She has taken to sticking to one night stands when she needs an outlet for her frustrations, convinced she will never have, and isn’t deserving of, a long lasting, loving relationship

She struggles severely with her mental health, constantly plagued by what she has done. She tries to limit her sleep to avoid nightmares that she knows will come and represses all emotions except for anger as that is the safest to latch onto and channel into killing. She is almost always on edge and feels pressure mounting with every single day. Very prone to overstimulation when it comes to noise, light and people. The only times she ever relaxes (or, at least, pretends to) is when she’s alone with Midori or with Lotus, her pet sabertooth moose lion.

To sum up: the poor girl is a vessel for my trauma and deserves a 30 hour nap, a hug, a warm blanket, the whole world and her parents back

Midori:

20 years old as of 174 AG. Earthbender, though not very good at it. She discovered her earthbending only a few months before losing her parents, and had no one to teach her since then. She is naturally kindhearted and hardworking, always trying to help out where she can and seem useful. Quiet and anxious, she prefers to stick to the background and draw as little attention to herself as possible (which is in fact a defence mechanism against Haya’s treatment of her but, y’know, let’s not get into that rn)

Sixteen years ago, Midori was a bright and happy little girl, wanting nothing more than for everyone around her to be happy as well. Always full of energy, she could talk and ramble for hours about anything that crossed her mind. Just as mischievous as her sister, she knew she was the baby of the family and could get away with anything, though to her credit, she didn’t abuse that much. Her parents called her their little Seedling, the youngest of them all so full of potential and eager to grow and make her parents proud. P’Li often called her a cuddlebug for her affectionate nature (am I stealing that from Kat’s fic bc it made me scream into my pillow for five minutes straight? Maybe. You can’t prove anything).

In present age, she’s a lot more similar to her childhood self than Suiren is. She doesn’t talk that much anymore, if at all, and her happiness is often clouded by the harsh world around her, but some of that cheerfulness still shines through, especially when she’s alone with Suiren or with Tenzin’s kids. The energy once used for rambling and chasing butterflies and racing with her sister is now almost always redirected into chores and housework, though if Suiren offered, she’d gladly race her again (and probably win tbh, her legs are longer and Renny prefers faster methods than running)

She doesn’t remember her parents well, and their faces have blurred beyond recognition in her mind. It’s why her appearance doesn’t affect her as much as Renny’s own does her. She’s not a carbon copy of either of her parents like Suiren is, she’s more of an even mix. She knows what Suiren had told her, that she has their mother’s eyes and their father’s nose, but can’t piece anything together in her head. She keeps her hair, as dark and silky as Suiren’s, though thicker, at shoulder length, a bit uneven in places as she cuts it herself. As a child, Ghazan would tie her hair into twin pigtails every morning and she never let anyone else do it. She hasn’t styled her hair in any way since she took those pigtails out before going to bed the night their parents left

A disaster bisexual, proven by the fact that out of all people in the world, she falls for Opal Beifong. You know, the step sister of the woman Midori’s sister has to kill (or die trying), and the daughter of the woman who killed Midori’s beloved auntie P’Li. Yeah, tough case. Anyway, turns out, there is a limited supply of Ghazan’s charm in his genetic code and it all got passed down to Renny, because ‘Dori herself turns into an awkward mess whenever the opportunity to flirt arises. It’s fine though, Opal still finds her adorable. Also she probably had a small crush on Bolin when they first met, but that was because he was one of the only people her age to be nice to her and she got over it quickly

Remember how I said she was quiet and anxious? Yeah, understatement of the century. Her anxiety follows her around throughout her day and is the driving force behind all of her decisions. Many things, from raised voices to passive aggressiveness to bad moods to unfinished housework, can trigger it. When it does, she clams up and curls in on herself, but tries her best to deescalate or rectify the situation. She’s also very sensitive to any kind of conflict, even when she’s not part of it. Midori also worries a lot for Suiren while she’s away on missions, as she knows she’ll completely fall apart if something were to happen to Renny. She has nightmares about it often, almost every night that Suiren is not there. Little does she know, Suiren has similar worries over losing her.

Another big thing is her major inferiority complex. She looks at her big sister and sees someone who has always been talented, powerful and capable. Someone who can do so many things without even breaking a sweat. Someone who has girls fawning all over her. And then ‘Dori looks at herself and sees none of those things. She doesn’t hate Suiren for it, not at all, but tiny inklings of disdain sometimes take form. She tries hard to ignore it, but often can do nothing but listen to those thoughts swirl around in her head.

In summary: An anxious mess of a girl who is in desperate need of a proper support system and someone (*cough* Opal *cough*) who could assure her that she is enough and that it doesn’t matter if she isn’t like her sister, she’s perfect just the way she is

If you want me to elaborate on any of this (and this goes for everyone, not just anon) my askbox is always open and my desire to infodump about my precious traumatised babies never wavers

#oops this took me over a month to finish typing out lmao sorry #if you see any typos no you don’t #it’s almost 2 am give me a break #but no really so many concepts so few promptings to spill them all out in an infodump tsunami #talk to me about my OCs please I promise their story is interesting #if it’s sounds like a weird wattpad novel in places that’s because I was 12 when I came up with them #it almost was a wattpad novel #okay okay I’m done I’m going to bed now bye #original characters #seeds of the red lotus #sotrl suiren #sotrl midori #the legend of korra #the red lotus #fanfiction #lok #legend of korra #red lotus #long post

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duhragonball · 8 months ago

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (214/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story This story takes place about 66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[9 May, Age 791. The Tuffle Planet.]

According to Saiyan legend, once every thousand years, a single warrior would rise up to become the mightiest of their race. These so-called Super Saiyans were said to be invincible in battle, capable of feats far beyond the abilities of even the greatest of normal Saiyans. The legends held that the Super Saiyans craved battle beyond all else, and they were utterly devoid of mercy.

Much of this was untrue, or simply mistaken. Super Saiyans were indeed powerful, but not unbeatable. While they were very rare in Saiyan history, it was possible for them to emerge more frequently. By the 9th Century, a multitude of Super Saiyans lived together on Earth at the same time. Most of them were quite gentle and enjoyed peacetime as much as the thrill of battle. The tales of invincible, pitiless killing machines were a product of Saiyan culture, which came to view the Super Saiyan phenomena as aspirational. Rather than accept the Super Saiyans of the past for what they truly were, Saiyan storytellers preferred to interpret the lives of their heroes through their own cruel customs. They taught their children to shun compassion and peace, and claimed that the Super Saiyans had all done the same.

The truth was that the Super Saiyans were rare because the conditions required to create one were difficult to find among the wicked ranks of the Saiyan species. After Yamoshi's failed crusade, evil flourished among the Saiyans, until eventually most Saiyans believed that brutality was not only justified, but a biological imperative. The truth was that Saiyans possessed special components in their bodies called "S-cells". With the right conditions, a Saiyan could increase the number of S-Cells in their body, and if they could attain a high enough power level, the Saiyan could harness the S-Cells to transform into a glowing, yellow-haired being of great power. It was simple biology, but the Saiyans had no interest in biology, or in the peaceful, compassionate mindset that allowed S-Cells to flourish. Those Saiyans who did cherish such things were ostracized or killed before they could become a liability. And this was why there had only been one Super Saiyan every thousand years. It wasn't magic or fate--although such things may have played some role in it-- it was simply the law of averages. Eventually, despite the best efforts of the Saiyans to unwittingly prevent it, a Super Saiyan would emerge into their world built on lies, and throw it into chaos.

For the Super Saiyan was no savior or conqueror. When the mythical hero emerged, they would always be perceived as a danger by their fellow Saiyans. So it had been with Luffa, who found herself rejected by her own people. Some envied her power, others despised her willingness to protect the weak. Some just hated her politics, or her unnatural hair color. Others simply resented the idea of the mightiest Saiyan of their generation being a woman.

Luffa understood how they felt. The transformation had changed her in ways that went beyond her outward appearance. She still thought of herself as an ordinary Saiyan like all the others, but she couldn't deny that she had become something… different. She quickly realized that protecting the weak wasn't just a matter of kindness. It was the only challenge worthy of her strength. The compassion she felt for other beings was genuine, but it was also a cold equation. Either she fought for the little guy, or she lived in solitude with nothing to do. For the Super Saiyan, everyone was 'the little guy'. And while Luffa eventually made some peace with her transformation, her reflection still gave her chills. Even in her base form, there was something… off when she looked in the mirror. It was as though she could see past her own surface, and perceive "that thing" lurking underneath her skin. It was no wonder that other Saiyans were uncomfortable around her. She wasn't entirely comfortable around herself.

Meeting other Super Saiyans in the future only heightened Luffa's discomfort. Seeing Goku transform during a Time Patrol mission had been a surreal experience. Learning that others could transform the same way was even stranger. When Trunks revealed he could transform as well, it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. And yet, what truly disturbed Luffa about it was that he had managed to hide it from her so effortlessly. There was no restlessness to Trunks, no savage power lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. He was simply a calm, professional warrior, right up to the moment when he revealed his true strength. She had defeated Trunks in battle, but his poise had won her respect.

And then there was Son Goku, the fountainhead from which this new generation of Super Saiyans now flowed. Ascending one thousand years after Luffa, Son Goku was her successor in the line of ancient legends, but he was also the first of a new breed of Super Saiyans, warriors who saw the form as more technique than myth. Son Goku, it seemed, had cracked the code, perhaps because he had grown up so far removed from his own people, and emerged in a universe where so few Saiyans remained to oppose him.

It was Goku's cheerful enthusiasm that bothered Luffa. The man could be serious when he needed to be, but he seemed completely at ease with his power. It was as though the Super Saiyan legend had been created just for him alone, and all who came before were merely heralds for his arrival.

Their meeting in the service of the Time Patrol was a unique twist of fate. After joining forces to save history from the evil Demigra, they agreed to celebrate with a battle, and now they faced off on a replica of Planet Vegeta in a time fragment isolated from reality. There were no spectators, no innocents to be jeopardized, no interlopers to get in their way. There were only red skies and empty cities all around.

For Luffa, it was a dream come true. And yet, her tumultuous thoughts continued to churn in her head. Living this dream was not quite as satisfying as she had imagined it would be. She wondered why that was.

"All right," Goku finally said. "I think it's time we turn things up a notch."

"Agreed, Kakarot," Luffa said. Her power was already rising as they spoke. She expected him to raise his ki to match, but he didn't. Instead, he simply crouched in his stance and narrowed his eyes.

"Here we go!" he cried, and then as he sprung into action, he seemed to vanish completely.

Luffa was surprised, but not unprepared for something like this. She kept her guard up and waited for Goku to give away his angle of attack. When she sensed his approach, she leaped out of the way and powered up a ki blast to fire back at him. But as she released the blast, she found no trace of him where he was supposed to be.

Then she sensed him again, from a completely different trajectory. His blue boots slammed into the small of her back and sent her crashing into the ground.

"A feint," she muttered to herself as she crawled out of the small crater she had made. "He faked me out, and I fell for it like an amateur."

She briefly considered how to go after him, but then quickly discovered that Goku was still coming after her. As she rose to full height, she had to duck to avoid another kick, and then he vanished again. This time, Luffa took a more cautious approach. Instead of waiting in place, she took flight and kept moving. This time, she would not waste her energy fighting back. Anticipating his next move and dodging it would be enough.

When she finally sensed Goku's movements, she dodged once again, but this time he sailed down to the ground and bounced back at her. She could sense him charging up a ki blast, but couldn't see anything in his hands. Then she remembered the battle they had fought against Demigra's forces on Earth.

There, Goku had used a combination strike: a variation of his Kamehameha attack, using his feet to charge and release it instead of his hands. He then flew straight after one opponent while being chased by another, then used his Instant Transmission technique to reorient his body in the opposite direction. His pursuer caught a mid-air collision with no warning at all, while the other opponent took a Kamehameha in the face. It looked very much like Goku was attempting the same trick again, except it made no sense. His only opponent here was Luffa, so what was the point in such an elaborate stunt?

She refused to take the bait. The simplest way to foil his plan was to back away to throw off his timing. As he approached, Luffa prepared her own ki attack to meet him. If he tried to teleport, he would find her ready for him.

But Goku had other plans. As she watched him approach, expecting him to teleport, it never happened. Then, suddenly, he blinked out of sight, and Luffa began to search for him in other directions. Instead, he reappeared on the same course as before, heading in the same direction, but now much closer than he had been before.

"Ha!" Goku shouted as he released the Kahamehameha at his feet.

The sudden burst of speed, coupled with his unexpected distance, left Luffa unable to react in time, and Goku's fists landed squarely against her chin and abdomen. Her ki blast went wild, and the golden ball of light sailed off on a parabolic arc that terminated at a ravine in the distance. A powerful explosion rocked the area, but Goku and Luffa were too busy to notice.

"Dammit!" Luffa shouted once she had recovered from the blow. "I should have known he wouldn't use the same trick twice!"

It was becoming clear that Goku was trying to soften her up for a more decisive attack later on. His power level hadn't increased in some time, and yet he was still pressing on. At the moment, Luffa had raised her ki beyond his level, and yet he was still keeping up with her through hit-and-run tactics. It was as brilliant as it was frustrating. Luffa might have called out some words of praise to her successor, but he had vanished again.

"You sneaky little…" Luffa muttered. She smiled in spite of herself, then set to work on figuring out a way to defeat Goku's strategy. When he revealed himself, she would only have moments to react. She considered seeking cover, then decided against it. The best way to flush him out was to make herself as big a target as possible, and so she increased her power even higher as she waited.

"Come and get me, Kakarot," Luffa said. "I'm right here. I'm right--"

As she spoke, she sensed his ki, and spotted him high above. His orange gi was hard to make out against the crimson sky, but when she noticed him charging another Kamehameha, he began to look like a bright evening star.

She quickly deduced his plan: The two of them had just agreed that this planet was sturdy enough to withstand their battle, unless one of them intentionally fired a large ki blast directly into the planet. And so, there was no chance Goku had any intention of using the Kamehameha from such a steep angle. This could only mean that he planned to use Instant Transmission just before firing. When the moment came, he would appear just out of Luffa's line of sight and catch her off guard.

With that established, Luffa prepared her own countermeasures. She charged her ki into her left hand, as though setting up her own signature attack, the Vengeance Cannon. With luck, it would help to convince Goku that she was expecting to pit her beam against his, and lull him into a false complacency. As she got ready, she raised her ki again, but not to make herself stronger. That was only a convenient side-effect. Her true purpose was to use her Super Saiyan aura to kick up enough dust. When Goku teleported in, his arrival would disturb the cloud enough to give away his position.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived, and Luffa immediately dropped to the ground. She found Goku standing right next to her, aiming right where her torso had been only moments ago. As he cried out, the Kamehameha beam flew out of his hands like a tidal wave of energy. Then Luffa struck, kicking his leg out from under him. Goku tumbled over, and made an undignified yelp as he lost the initiative.

"Gotcha!" Luffa shouted, and then she immediately went to work.

Beating Goku up was immensely satisfying. It wasn't just the payback for his clever tactics, but he made very pleasant screams with each blow she landed. He sounded like he was on the brink of defeat, but Luffa knew it would take a lot more than this to win the day. Fortunately for her, he had neglected to raise his power to match her own, and so he lacked the strength to fight back or escape. All he could do now was block or dodge, and he seemed to lack the wherewithal to do so.

Then, to her surprise, he fought back anyway. Her next punch sailed past his head as he moved in closer to hit her. It was a beautiful strike, but he lacked the power needed to break through her defenses. As his fist hit her abdomen, there was only a loud thud as her energy blunted the attack. He tried again and again, only to end up with the same result.

"This is a joke, right?" Luffa asked him. "You can't be this desperate already! We just started!"

"Don't count me out yet, Luffa!" Goku insisted. "I wasn't finished!"

"Is that so?" Luffa asked. She grabbed Goku's arm on his next punch and then quickly shifted to holding him by the throat. "Well, judging by that last attack, you seem pretty finished to me, I-- what the--?"

By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late to stop it. Goku's errant Kamehameha had not missed. Instead, it had turned around in a wide arc, and circled back upon Luffa, who had turned her back to it. In that moment, the full force of the blast collided with her, and Goku wriggled free of her choke hold. As he dropped clear from Luffa, she was carried off by the beam along the surface of the planet.

She was more irritated than hurt, although getting blindsided by a Kamehameha did hurt quite a bit. Still, it was nothing she couldn't shrug off. The hard part was to get herself clear of the head of the beam. With considerable effort, Luffa rolled to one side, hoping to slip off of it like a person jumping off a moving train. It worked, although the dismount wasn't as graceful as she had envisioned. After falling off the beam, she spun around in midair for a few seconds, then collided with a tree on her way to the ground. The beam had carried her into a forest, and the leaves rustled beneath her as she scrambled to her feet.

"I'm getting really sick of this crap," Luffa growled to no one in particular. "When I get my hands on him again, I'm going to make him pay for all of this screwing around… There! There he is."

She had sensed his presence a short distance away, but this time Luffa took her time in pursuing him. Instead of blasting out of the forest, she floated gently between the trees, doing her best to avoid detection without suppressing her power.

She found him in a lake near the edge of the forest. There was no sign of him, but Luffa could tell he was down at the bottom, apparently plotting some new mischief. This time there were three distinct power signatures. He had prepared ki attacks for her and he was waiting for the right moment to deploy them.

"All right, smart guy," Luffa muttered. "We'll play it your way."

She flew over the lake, and charged a ki blast in her hand to toss down at him. As she prepared to fire, one of the ki balls under the lake launched upward and nearly hit her.

"This one doesn't even make sense!" she grumbled. "What, does he think I can't tell where he is? Does he think I don't know he can sense me?!"

The second one launched out of the water, and came nowhere close to hitting Luffa. She ignored both attacks as they rocketed up into the sky. There was the chance that he might send them back down at her, but she doubted that he would use that trick again so soon.

"Time's up, Kakarot," Luffa said. "Make your play, or I'll just have to come down there and get you…"

Now the third ki signal flew up from the lake. Luffa opened fire as soon as it breached the surface, but there was no sign of Goku. It was just another globule of ki energy, like the first two. When she attacked it, there was a large explosion at the lake's surface, and nothing more.

"I don't get it," Luffa said. "Then he never down there at all? Then where the hell is he?"

Then it hit her. He had been inside one of the ki attacks that had missed her earlier. He had used them as a decoy to distract her. But now that he had gotten clear of the lake, where else could he expect to go?

The answer, it turned out, was right in front of her. Between the smoke and fog of the explosion, and the ki energy dispersed all around her, Luffa didn't sense him teleporting in until it was too late. And when she finally did spot him, she failed to notice that the other ki ball in his hand was still with him.

"Here you go!" Goku shouted as he launched it at her. With no time to defend or escape, Luffa was caught in the brunt of the attack. He had tricked her again, and this time, he was eager to press the advantage.

As Luffa reeled from the blast, she felt something on her tail, and realized that Goku had taken hold of it. Before she could wonder what he was going to do next, she found herself being swung around in a circle. After a few revolutions, Goku finally released her, flinging Luffa back into the forest.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" Luffa screamed on her way to the forest floor. Each branch she struck along the way only made her angrier, and by the time she was back on her feet, she was livid. "What does that orange fool think he's doing? We didn't come all this way to play games! He's making a mockery of this whole fight! He's not even trying to--!"

Then it finally dawned on her that this was his true strategy. He was conserving his power, and purposely goading her so that she would fight without thinking clearly. Then, after she had wasted her strength on useless blunders, he would finish her off and win the day.

With a tremendous effort, Luffa forced herself to calm down. She had asked for this, after all. She had worried that their fight might end too quickly if their powers turned out to be mismatched. But were Goku's tactics a sign that he was too weak to keep up with Luffa, or did it mean that he had enough power to afford such diversions?

"All right, Kakarot," she finally said in a low voice. "You've made your point. Brute force isn't going to get me anywhere, at least not yet. But you're not the only one with tricks up your sleeve. And whatever your true power may be, I know I've got enough to see this through."

With that, she began to charge her ki, and smiled at the thought of what she had in store for him next.

Not far from Luffa's position, Son Goku sat motionless in a sinkhole he had found near the lake. His efforts to conceal his presence from Luffa had been working out so far, and his strategy seemed to be working. He could sense her working on something that used a lot of energy, and he looked forward to seeing what it was.

Her fighting style was excellent, and he was optimistic about her power level, although it concerned him that she was raising it so rapidly in the early stage of the fight. To be sure, he wanted to see her full power, so any increase would bring that moment closer, but there was something about the way her power increased that troubled him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he suspected that it wasn't something he could take for granted.

He was trying to meditate, since his plans required a measure of serenity as he suppressed his battle power between attacks. The problem was that he was just so excited about this battle that it was difficult for him to focus. Meditation was never his strong suit. Master Roshi, Mr. Popo, and others had done their best to teach him, and he could do it, but he wondered if he could ever be good at it. He wondered if Luffa had any advice on the subject.

He sensed something approaching, and he readied himself for action. It felt like Luffa, but it seemed to be everywhere at once, as if she had spread herself across the land like peanut butter across a slice of bread.

"C'mon, focus, Goku," he chided himself. "This is no time to be thinking about food."

He peeked out of his hiding place, seeking some clue as to what she was doing.

"Whatcha looking for, buddy?"

The voice was unfamiliar, but Goku knew it had to be Luffa, since there was no one else on the planet. When he turned around, the answer quickly became apparent. It was a construct made of her ki energy. It looked like the same ghosts that Goten and Trunks used whenever they fused into Gotenks.

"Aw man! You can do that trick too?" Goku asked. He seemed to remember overhearing Luffa and Gotenks arguing about the topic during their battle against Demigra's forces on Earth. Goku didn't realize the technique had been so old.

"Oh, don't worry about me, pal!" the ghost said, though her high-pitched cackling did little to reassure him. "I'm not gonna hurt ya! No way. I'm just here to signal the others!"

"Others?" Goku asked, but instead of explaining, the ghost raised her mitten-like hand up into the air and fired a ki beam into the sky. By now, Goku had levitated himself out of the sinkhole, and was preparing to defend himself. It was then he noticed the golden mist that floated close the the ground like a morning fog.

"Oh boy," Goku said as he began to put it all together. "This sure doesn't look good."

"You got that right!" the ghost cackled. Her laughter seemed to have an echo, and then Goku realized the echoes were getting louder. They were not echoes at all, but more laughter coming from more ghosts.

They swarmed around him like hornets, each of them bearing a head like Luffa's, only shock white, with a cute little ghost body underneath. Every last one had a wild look in her eyes, and while they did not attack, Goku was certain that they were just waiting for the right moment to do so.

"I hear you're a real tricky guy!" one of the ghosts shrieked.

"Yeah!" cried another. "He's reallllll slippery!"

"Is that so?" wailed a third. "Well let's see him try and slip out of this!"

NEXT: Luffa's Manhunt

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #luffa #goku #lssjluffafic #the tuffle planet

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fiction-box · 2 years ago

Note

Hello hello I see requests are open 👀 I loved your "only one bed" fic w Ashe so I'm here to ask for more lol

May I get a fem or gn reader tutoring Felix and Sylvain (you can just choose one if you're not feeling inspired) in magic? If I remember correctly both of them have a budding talent in reason magic so maybe the professor saw that and assigned reader to help cultivate that talent??

Idk how much detail you like in your requests so feel free to ignore the rest of this!! But if you want more specifics maybe reader has always been a little nervous around the nobles in the BL house since they're a commoner?? And even though they have every confidence in their abilities they're not very assertive so Byleth wanted reader to learn how to take charge in a situation and actually tell people what to do lol

Thank you in advance!! :D

This is one of the reasons I value requests so much. There are so many ideas you guys come up with that I want to discover!

I took these two stories in two very different directions, but I think they both stay true to the prompt in their own way. The different sways of each story are heavily influenced on how I think one would have to interact with each character to achieve the specifics we're looking for.

In this case, I was inspired to write Sylvain's story with more edges and harsh moments, though Felix's was created with a much softer arc in mind.

Enjoy! Requests are open to all. Send in as many as you wish!

The stories will be continued under the cut.

Sylvain:

“N-No! No. Please wait!”

For what must have been the third time this session, you adjusted the position of Sylvain’s hands so that his fingers were curled inwards.

“Remember? If you don’t curl your fingers in, you aren’t directing the magic properly. That could cause the fire to spread sideways rather than forward, and then you’d be putting everyone around you in danger.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “My bad.”

You were quite certain he did remember, but you didn’t say anything about it. It was a trivial matter, really. Curling his fingers yourself every once in a while was nothing compared to what you knew he could do to you if you got even slightly too pushy with him.

“That’s alright, just…try to keep it in mind as we go through the motions, okay?”

Taking a step back, you sighed and relaxed your body a bit. You were going to make sure the only thing he lit on fire would be the target across from him. Burning down the training grounds was not an appealing idea to you.

“So, different people pull their magic from different places within them, yes? For example, Mercedes feels her magic from somewhere closer to her heart, while Annette describes her pull as somewhere within her head. Personally, I feel my own resonate within my palms.”

He nodded. Good. You were getting somewhere.

“I can’t just tell you where to pull yours from, though. What I can say is that once we find your source, the rest is easy. While we could do some research or studying to make a more educated presumption, I’ve found that the fastest method is just to guess and check.”

Sylvain stretched out his arms and hands, “Sure. Walk me through it then, professor~.”

You were just about to until he returned his hands to the wrong position. Again.

No, you were not going to sigh. You were not going to show any signs of impatience, you were simply going to breathe normally, approach him calmly, and gently reposition his hands.

And as much as the little nickname irked you, you wouldn’t say anything about that, either.

What was the scale of a commoner’s displeasure at a nickname when compared to that of the power of a noble? One with a crest, no less. He didn’t need to learn magic in order to ruin your life. Or order your death.

He certainly didn’t need to know you were intimidated by him, lest he get any ideas.

“You’re pointed at the target right now. I’ve adjusted your form so that it’s perfect. The only thing left is for you to pull the magic from your body and feel it spread into your fingertips.”

“Got it,'' he winked, then turned his eyes back to the target.

There. You were almost done. The only thing that was left was for him to find the magic. After all, you were confident in your ability to show him how to use it.

“...”

“It’s fine, don’t worry!” you reassured him frantically. Goddess knows what he might do if he thought this was your fault. “It can take a bit of time, just make sure you’re focusing on tracing it to your- NO, WAIT-!”

You rushed to his side when you noticed he had wrecked his form and yet was still trying. This time, a small flame did come out of his hands. However, thanks to his uncontrolled form, it began to widen to his sides.

“Woah. Uh, what do I do now?” he asked. A sliver of panic had slipped its way into his tone.

“Just aim at the target and imagine it shooting forward. Do it quickly; it’s too late to control the fire at this point, so we need to let it go before it-”

You let out a squeak of surprise as you watched it shoot across the room to the target. The widened flame hit it, but the fire didn’t truly catch onto the target. Though you were certain it would have missed if his form was actually correct, it had become clear what the professor had meant when she mentioned he had a “budding talent” in the art.

When you were originally assigned to work on magic with Sylvain, you had voiced your concerns to Professor Byleth.

“You want me to teach? And a noble, of all people? One that you claim has talent, yet has never even accessed his magic before?”

“Good,” she smiled, “so you heard me.”

“I…please, I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t know the first thing about teaching, or…or giving orders…or…”

“That’s why you’ll be teaching one of your classmates. It will benefit us all for you to find your backbone.”

“Well then, what about Ashe? I’ll teach Ashe, or I’ll even teach Dedue, but…it isn’t really my place to teach a noble. Besides, I have a family, and if anything happens-”

“Okay,” the mercenary laughed, “now you’re definitely not getting out of this. It looks like you can learn quite a few lessons from such an experience, after all.”

“But-”

“Sylvain will be waiting for you at the training grounds. I expect you to arrive on time. I will check on you periodically.”

Well, so much for that, you thought to yourself. You hadn’t seen so much as the color of Professor Byleth’s hair since this whole thing began.

As you finished the task you had originally approached Sylvain to complete, you began to wonder how curling his fingers of all things would be the most challenging part of this lesson. He was clearly listening to you when you spoke, so the issue must be in your directions, right? Maybe you really weren’t cut out for this whole “giving-orders” thing, even though you thought you had been doing a good job, so far.

“Hey,” Sylvain began. “Why haven’t you said anything to me?”

You paused, “What do you mean? I’ve been talking you through the process this whole time.” Honestly, now you weren't sure if he was listening. Maybe he was the spacey type.

Sylvain quirked an eyebrow, “Every time I fail to go back into position, you just stop and move my fingers manually. I must have done it at least four times by now, and most girls would have told me to knock it off at this point.”

“I don’t…” four was an understatement. But did he really not realize the reason for your hesitation? “...know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do. There’s this look in your eye every time you notice it. You have a lot more patience than I do, that’s for sure. Your tone of voice stays neutral or positive, and each time you maneuver my hands, you don’t move them any rougher than you did the time before it. But even with all of those behaviors combined, you manage to give it away through your eyes.”

What.

He’s been able to notice all of those…traits…of your behavior over the past two hours you’ve been working to teach him, but he still can’t do any better than a spread flame of-?

There’s no way.

“So you’re saying you know how to use the proper positioning?”

“Pssh. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I got it the first time.” the red-headed noble teased, “But all those extra times you spent showing me really helped-”

“Do it, then.”

His brows knit lightly, “What?”

You pointed at the target he had only technically hit during his last shot, “Get into your form. Aim at the target. And light it on fire.”

Sylvain was too stunned to speak. Instead, he did as you said, turning to face the target and firing a small fireball at the center. Sure enough, it caught fire. Right on the mark.

His smug demeanor returned, “So, how did I do? Don’t you think I should get some form of a reward for all my hard work today?”

You slowly exhale, closing your eyes and calming your heartbeat. Then, you fire your own flame spell at the target. The hay is half ember and half ash when you turn to leave.

“We’re done. I’m done.”

“Woah,” Sylvain’s eyes went wide as he stared into the remains of the fire. Quickly recovering from his shock, he turned back to you, “You oka-?”

“Two hours of my life!” you snap, spinning on your heel to face him. “Gone! Wasted!”

“Hey, now, don’t get too upset. After all, I know a few women that would be jealous of someone getting to spend that much one-on-one time with me,” his signature smirk returns, and all you can think of is how much you’d like to burn the look off his face. “Why don’t we go out and get some tea together? Would that make you feel better?”

“Two hours! And now you want even more time?”

You actually wanted to cry, now, but there was no way you were going to give him the satisfaction.

“I was supposed to spend my time with Mercedes and Annette, this afternoon! I would’ve had tea with them! Then we would’ve studied for our certification exams, and…I didn’t need this! And you certainly didn’t need this much time from me.”

Sylvain actually looked a little hurt at that, and before you could truly process everything you had just done, you heard three small raps at the entrance of the training grounds.

“That’s quite enough, you two. Sylvain, please head back to my classroom and wait for me there. We’re going to be having a little chat about training etiquette, but not before I speak with your classmate.”

His regretful expression left almost as quickly as it came when he turned to face Professor Byleth with a wink, “Right. Don’t keep me waiting, Professor!”

She glared at him, and you were immediately glad her look wasn’t directed at you.

“Don’t tempt me. Maybe I won’t show up for two hours. Whatever keeps me entertained, right?”

The Gautier noble lost his smirk as your own mouth formed a thin line to keep from smiling. You weren’t sorry for him in the slightest; especially not after he treated you like a plaything for the better part of an afternoon.

“And no detours!” she barked as he left.

You stepped forward, “Professor…I don’t-”

“I disagree.”

You blinked twice, “What?”

“With what you said earlier,” she smiled, “about not needing this. I disagree.”

The tension in your shoulders dropped in defeat, “What are you talking about, professor? I must have completed what you told me to at least an hour ago, but I wasn’t even competent enough to pick up on it. There was absolutely no reason for me to stay any longer than that, and especially not with someone as depreciative of my company as-”

But it didn’t feel like she was listening to you. Her smile was just growing, and all you could do was trail off and watch as your professor turned and headed for the door.

“You’ve grown more than you realize. You were finally able to assert yourself today.”

You shuddered a little, “I’m still worried about what I said to him.”

With her hand on the door, Professor Byleth faced you one last time, “Don’t be. Now you know as well as I do. Those nobles think they can do whatever they want, so it’s an important lesson for us to learn.” She nodded once, “It’s okay to stand up for yourself, my student. Someone needs to keep them in check.”

The doors of the grounds shut behind her with a thud.

She was right, you knew. You felt more sure of yourself, just as she had asked you to become. Not only that, but now that you knew people like Sylvain were qualified to be nobles, you weren’t as scared to talk to them.

But now you had a new fear. One day, Fodlan’s future would rest in the hands of nobles like these.

If messing around was the best they could do, they definitely had their work cut out for them.

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

Felix:

“It’s not working.”

“Don’t worry, th-that’s alright! This is only your first day, after all. I think you’re doing well.”

Felix huffed, “Doing well isn’t going to save my life when I can’t cut through someone’s armor. Stop flattering me and actually do something to help.”

“R-right! Of course!” you stumbled. You allowed your eyes to scan Felix’s body, evaluating his form and making a mental checklist. He was able to create the magic just fine, but the Faerghus noble was completely lost when it came to firing it.

“Well, your stance is great, and you can summon the magic easily enough. B-but I don’t have enough information to properly identify a problem area-”

“Then show me again,” he ordered as Professor Byleth entered the training grounds. She was carrying a handful of spears that she must have just bought.

“That’s enough, Felix. You're the one listening, here. Let your friend do her job.”

He balked at that. “She is not my friend. Neither of us are here by choice, in case you’re having trouble recalling the context of the situation you put us in!”

Your teacher began swapping out the new lances in her arms for the broken and rusted ones discarded around the training grounds. “Well, complaining about it isn’t going to get you anywhere. Just be nice and listen, and I’m sure this will be over before you know it.”

The swordsman turned to you, clenching his teeth, “Please. Show me how you performed the spell. Again.”

“Y-Yes!”

“Ah-ah. No,” you turned to Professor Byleth as she looked you in the eyes, “You’re the professor. You’re the one giving the orders. Felix isn’t teaching you how to teach. You’re teaching him magic.”

“Ah, right,” you stood a little taller, “In that case…Felix, I’m going to demonstrate how to cast the Thunder spell once more.”

Your posture faltered at the resounding sigh from across the room. “I’m going off to the shop to repair these weapons. I expect this…dynamic…to be fixed when I return.”

As you watched your professor leave, the noble next to you cleared his throat. Back to work.

“Okay, I-I can go slow. And I’ll talk you through it!”

You got into your original stance, going over each component from your feet to your fingers. Felix reproduced your efforts methodically.

Next, you informed him of the process of garnering magic from your internal source. As the Thunder gathered in your hands, it did the same in his. It was just as bright as yours, which had always come as a surprise.

You didn’t dwell on it too long as you came to the part of the system you knew you’d spend the most time on. You tried to describe it as best you could; tracing an imaginary line between your fingers and your target before letting it go. And while yours went, the lightning magic between Felix’s hands began to grow in size and glow ever brighter.

“Tch. Not again.”

“Hold on, I’ll get it!” you reassured him, running across the room to grab one of the logs you were using as targets. Returning to him, you placed the wood in his hands as it took the brunt of the power from his spell. However, the rest of it went into you.

“Agh-! Th…that’s-” you hug your arms to your chest, attempting to cradle them against one another lightly, “that’s definitely what a Thunder spell with double the power would feel like.”

While Felix didn’t outright ask if you were alright, you felt his eyes scanning over your arms. But as long as you were the one taking the hit and not him, he couldn’t get any more upset with you, right? A commoner teaching magic to a noble. While you didn’t doubt that you could, you were not exactly confident that you should. However, it wasn’t up to you. Professor Byleth called the shots.

Shots that you needed to be giving right now, you remembered.

“Forgive me! I need to focus.”

Felix opened his mouth as if in protest, but you spoke again before he could get any sound out, “So, tell me exactly what you’re thinking when you try to fire off the spell.”

He furrowed his brow, “Just like you said. I draw that invisible line in my mind, I run my arms along it, and I think of letting go. Releasing.”

“Hmm. I think that might be our issue.”

“You think?”

“Hey, I’m not exactly the best at teaching compared to just doing, in case you couldn’t already tell.”

Only after the words were out of your mouth did you realize what you just said.

“Oh no- I’m so sorry! Look, I…I’ll figure this out for you, you’ll execute it, and then we won’t have to do this again.”

“Calm down. You’re allowed to be frustrated, too,” he scoffed. “I haven’t exactly been a model student.”

“Right…a-anyway, try going through the routine once more, but instead of thinking about releasing, think of pushing. That way you’re using both mental and physical force.”

So you watched as Felix did just that. He got into his stance, gathered the magic into his hands, pushed his arms forward, and furrowed his brow.

But the lighting grew ever brighter, the supply of logs grew ever smaller, and your arms grew ever more sore.

“W-why-” you asked, cradling your arms together once more. Tears formed in your eyes as you looked elsewhere, fighting the pain. “I don’t get it.”

“Come on!” Felix shouted at himself. With your head turned away from him, however, you had presumed your so-called “student’s” anger was directed at you.

Consequently, you flinched away from him.

From outside of your view, Felix’s eyes widened slightly. He softened his tone a bit, “Woah…Hey, are you alright?”

“Please,” you pleaded, turning to fully face him. “I’m doing my best. I just…if you could just give me a bit more time to wor-”

“I’m not mad at you, and I’m definitely not about…to hurt…you…” he began to trail off.

He was staring at your arms. Once you followed his gaze, you could see why. With a gasp, you held them straight out in front of you.

The flesh of your arms was burned.

It went in a pattern that made it look like something had lashed at you. The last log you used must not have been as effective as you had hoped it would be. Your knees dropped out in shock.

Felix burst toward you. Catching your torso, he lightly lowered you to the ground.

Dread cloaked your thoughts like a shadow as your breathing became more shallow and stuttered. You couldn’t cast healing magic over yourself. Moving your arms at all was a special kind of torture, but performance of the spell you needed couldn’t be achieved without more range of motion.

“Teach me how to heal you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were still too petrified to register what he had said.

“What?”

“Look, maybe I can’t fire off lightning, but we can both clearly see from your arms that the spell worked. If you can teach me how to heal, even if I can’t send it into you, you can still make use of the spell on yourself by placing your arms where you used to put the logs.”

It sounded like a reasonable enough plan. It was the best thing you had at the moment, anyway. You didn’t think you could move about to get help in this state, and you didn’t like the idea of being left alone in the training grounds, either.

So you walked him through it. Kneeling together on the floor, you told him to change his fingers into a cupped form. He was instructed to send the power through his wrists rather than his fingertips to get it to form. Then, with his hands glowing green and hovering over your arms, you directed him to give the magic directly to your afflicted areas.

Both of you were stunned when Felix was able to send the healing magic to you on his first try. You didn’t need to move into it, it just flowed from his wrists into your arms.

Your head gave an involuntary bow as you felt the magic wash over you. It was like a light breeze on a hot day. More like a cool salve on a burn, you supposed.

“Thank you,” you breathed, head still lowered. Your breaths continued, slow and deep as you closed your eyes.

It got you thinking, though. How was it that Felix could fire his healing magic effectively, but not the Thunder spell you had both been working on? It was the same principle, though you think you conveniently forgot to instruct him on it, this time.

Your eyes opened lightly as you felt the flow of magic dissipate from your body. Felix must have stopped, then.

As you tried to lift your head back up, your vision spotted and dizziness set in. You supposed you had never truly been injured that badly before. Sure, the attacks you had taken throughout the time of one battle all added together might total quite a bit of agony, but Mercedes was always around to heal you at intervals whenever you suffered anything noticeable.

“...ngh..”

“Easy,” Felix stated, moving his hands to balance your shoulders, “you’ll get up when you’re ready. Nothing good will come from you pushing yourself right now.”

Focusing on your breathing, you put your head back down and placed your palms in front of you for balance.

“What were you thinking…" you took another deep breath, steadying yourself. "When you sent the healing spell, what was the thought permeating your mind?”

His hold on your shoulders tightened subtly, “I was just thinking that I wanted you to take it.”

“There, then,” you affirmed as your voice returned to you in full. “That’s going to be what you need to do in order to fire your spells. Your objective will be to get the recipient to take the spell from you.”

Trying to lift your head up once more, you succeeded. You let your eyes blink a few times, then turned to the noble kneeling next to you.

“So, go do it. One more try,” you nodded. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll be done.”

His lips pressed against each other, and his eyes hardened. You could tell he was less than interested.

“I promise I have learned from my mistakes. You’ve already found the solution, Felix. You performed it just now. The only thing that’s left is to use the proper spell.”

“Got it,” he stood, moving into position a few feet away from his target. Before he gets into his form, though, he looks to you.

“If it backfires-”

“It won’t.”

He clenched his teeth, “It might not, but I’m telling you that if it does, you’re not grabbing that log. I’ll find a way to take care of it myself, understood?”

You laughed, “Don’t worry, I couldn’t stand if I tried.”

“I mean it.”

“I’ll stay right here. I promise.”

That seemed to be the answer he was looking for. The swordsman turned back to the target, took his stance, and you observed as the lightning formed in his hands.

You watched him shove the spell forward, and just as you predicted, the lightning flew from his hand into the center of the target.

“Just like that!” you smiled warmly, eyes fixed on where the projectile had struck.

Right on cue, the doors to the training grounds flew open, unceremoniously announcing the return of Professor Byleth. The first thing her gaze landed on was the scorched target across from Felix.

“Wonderful jo-” as she turned to address the two of you, however, her eyes caught on your own position.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“...”

“Uh…Felix knows healing magic, now…?”

After a quick interrogation to ensure neither of you deliberately hurt one another just so he might practice his powers in faith, the mercenary escorted both of you to see Professor Manuela.

Fortunately, she didn’t spot any remaining injuries on either of you. This led your own professor to become quite pleased with your performances, and she insisted that this become a more permanent arrangement.

You were originally concerned about how much time you would have to spend teaching until Professor Byleth began a weekly rotation system between the two of you.

Though you can’t say you were ever fond of the sword, you were definitely not expecting to ever become so experienced with one in such a short period of time. Now that you and Felix could both effectively use magic and metal interchangeably, the two of you possessed extreme versatility on the battlefield.

The Blue Lions were now more than ever a force to be reckoned with, and it was safe to say that the House overall was far from displeased.

#fe3h #fire emblem #fe x reader #fiction #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #x reader #felix x reader #sylvain gautier #sylvain x reader #felix hugo fraldarius #felix #sylvain #fe3h felix #fe3h sylvain #fe3h felix x reader #fe3h x reader #three houses #byleth eisner

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aziraphales-library · 2 years ago

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Hi, so I’ve been trying to find stories like these but don’t know the correct tags. I’m looking for stories where Crowley throws the You go too fast for me’ back at Aziraphale or is at least a little upset over how Aziraphale treated him over the days leading up to Armageddon? Or just some docs where Aziraphale has to be the one to make a big effort to show his love for Crowley. Maybe you have some?

Hello. There aren’t specific tags to search for these kind of fics, but I’ve done some rummaging and found a few for you...

It's Not A Miracle We Needed by allonsy_gabriel (G)

Things continued, as they tend to do. A month went by, a month wherein Aziraphale was convinced more of Crowley's belongings were in his shop than the demon's flat.

A few smaller plants appeared on his countertops. A leather jacket was draped over his sofa. The keys to the Bentley sat in a ceramic bowl by the bed— the bed that was now being used, almost every night, by a particular demon who had insisted on getting better quality sheets because good Lucifer, angel, when did you even get these?

(Aziraphale blushed as he admitted that they came with the bed, which came with the flat, which came with the shop, which Aziraphale opened in the 1800s.)

Loose feathers by tenebi (T)

Situation: Crowley and Aziraphale have been drinking, Aziraphale yet again mentions Crowley's nature and his “ incapacity to love ”. “I mean it’s not like you have been treating me like I am always here to personally attack you or it’s not like you have been putting every fucking problem of this earth on my back just because I happen to be there, and yeah I know I know that what demons do but I was expecting you to understand after a bit… or when you keep telling every soul that we meet that we aren’t friends” Crowley's voice began to crack, but he didn’t care anymore.

His glasses were giving him enough protection to hide the pain in his eyes and the literal pain caused by the liquid that had started to gather up in his eyes.

“ but the worst the worst is that even after everything, the 6000 years, the armageddon and the trial.. you still think I don’t-”

When Things get out of Line by wyrmy (G)

In the wake of the averted Apocalypse, everything ought to have gotten easier. Surely now that the world has been saved, now that his relationship with Crowley is progressing, deepening in the way he always dreamed of, Aziraphale ought to be able to relax a little.

Let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me by elf_on_the_shelf (M)

The World didn't end but that doesn't mean there aren't quite a lot of things to be addressed yet. Especially between an angel and a demon and especially after they have avoided talking about them for so long.

Looks like I am finally doing a "night at Crowley's flat" fic, two years too late :)))

6,000 Years Is a Long Time to Wait by Sammy_is_obsessed (G)

It had been weeks since the apoca-wasn't. Things would be very different from there on own out, Crowley had suspected. Times had changed forever, after all, and the line between good and evil had grown even hazier. Neither he nor Aziraphale had heard so much as a peep from their superiors since the stunt they pulled, and he doubted they’d hear anything from them for a very long time. Or maybe he just hopped. No matter, things had changed regardless, and Crowley was ready for it. He’d been aching for it for centuries.

Why, then, did things feel exactly the same?

Velocity by dragon_with_a_teacup (T)

Aziraphale can sense Affection whenever that emotion is near. Yet he has never looked for it within himself whenever Crowley is near. It should be impossible, an angel feeling such things for a demon; why, then, would it have occurred to him to look? Why would he have thought to analyze his bond with Crowley—a bond forged throughout the centuries through a convenient work arrangement—for anything beyond mere camaraderie?

Yet now, his favorite angelic ability turns inward for the first time, and at last, he sees: He’s been such a fool.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #arguing #you go too fast for me #angst #mod d

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dourpeep · 4 years ago

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Hello, i want to req kazuha x f!reader and if you can do nsfw, please 👉🏻👈🏻 since it's kazuha, maybe he's more like soft!dom. Thank you!

IEHFIEH OKAY OKAY I got really excited about writing this so it's a WHOPPING 3K WORDS! So many words

Kazuha's another Xiao situation for me, it seems...not to mention my favorite to write is very painfully obviously soft doms. That being said, I did make him a little more flirty than his voice lines suggest.

The poem that is referenced in the fic is In the Sea of Iwami by Kakinomoto Hitomaro!

Drowning in You

Summary: At first, you know little of the mysterious ronin's past, but little by little, you find your fates entwined.

Contains: ((NSFW 18+)) Kazuha x afab!reader, soft dom!Kazuha, reader is traveler but not Aether or Lumine, small mention of alcohol, hint of overstim, poetic

How vast, the ocean seems to be, even more so in the dark of night. Above, the sky is a spattered array with thousands of glittering stars, the moon but a sliver. The ship gently rocks in the calm waters as a meager dot upon waves. Despite the moon's position already setting back down along the dark curtain of night and the crew's final decision to retire to their quarters, you're awake.

Lost in all the thoughts of how you've just begun to experience all Liyue has only to now be well on your way to Inazuma.

The dangers that others have spoken of, that you know are to come…you’re sure that your resolve will be tested once more in the unfamiliar land.

The silent repose is interrupted by a voice.

"May I join you, traveler?"

Kazuha.

As you've come to find in the few days you've been aboard the Alcor, the red-dressed man often sits and watches the way the waves roll along the surface of the ocean and the birds soar across the sky. Lost in all that the sea has to offer, there's hardly a moment when he's not tuned in to the whispers of nature in quiet appreciation. Though, you notice, never this toward morning.

Shuffling to the side, you pat the solid wooden deck beside you. He takes a seat with legs folded beneath him.

"It's beautiful tonight—the gentle breeze, the sounds of the water hitting the hull...I fully understand the appeal. But why is it you're still awake?"

Before tonight, you've hardly heard the gentle timbre of his voice. The raspiness—whether natural or from his own fatigue, you're not sure, but a feeling of warmth settles. It swirls, tempting. Breaking your thoughts, you politely meet his gaze.

"Thinking, of everything, I guess."

You pull your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them. Though it’s a warm night, the breeze provides a chill from the ocean.

"Of Inazuma, too."

Kazuha hums in understanding.

Once more, the silence of the ship and sea envelop you to drift back to your thoughts, closing your eyes and forgetting what your handsome companion just stirred in you.

But your mind drifts back to him regardless.

Your heart quickens at the thought of him staring out towards the sea, the sun shining down just right and highlighting pale hair and scarlet eyes.

There’s little doubt that he’s caught your eye, handsome, with an aura of unknown strength. A wanted man, from what Beidou has told you. Forever on the run and far from home. She fully believes there’s no need to worry, but you know others might think otherwise.

They whisper how it’s certain with the breathtaking skill he displays in his swordsmanship that his abilities come from a multitude of experience. Speaking of the way he keeps so to himself. A samurai with a lack of a master.

A ronin.

It’s not surprising, the rumors that spread quick.

Though, you find, the speculation of danger quickly dissipates once the realization of his gentle spirit and knack for poetry comes to light. He’s gentle, you realize. Kind.

It’s hard to believe someone as free-spirited as he would be a criminal.

Kazuha is patient, body turned so he’s facing you while you think, examining the look upon your features. The realization that you’ve been lost in your thoughts about the very man warms your cheeks. You finally speak up.

“And you?”

“Most of the same,” He replies. “There’s no need to worry—about Inazuma, I mean. After what I’ve seen, I trust in your abilities.”

His hand settles atop one of yours. Its touch is warm.

“I may not be able to join you, but I’m sure of this.”

You look back out to the deep blue waters. But he doesn’t move, not until you look back into eyes the color of the very maple leaves he dons.

Expression serious, Kazuha leans closer. The skip in your chest worsens the heat that creeps up your neck and cheeks. But as quickly as he does, he pulls away, his hand returning to lay in his lap.

“Away I have come, parting from her / Even as the creeping vines do part. / My heart aches within me…”

Wistful, he recites, and turns his gaze to the moon.

“A poem, from my homeland. Bittersweet in it’s meaning. Whether he sees his lover upon his return—it isn’t known.”

“Do you? Miss someone?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not quite in the same way. A friend. Though I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have someone like that. Someone to hold so dearly within your very being that the thought of being without them brings physical pain…”

A hand lifts, pressing to his chest as if trying to feel for heaviness.

The two of you watch the night for a bit longer in silence.

As your long and arduous journey dwindles, you find yourself seeking Kazuha’s company more and more.

Unbeknownst to you, he does the same.

Most often, it’s between duties on the ship, arms leaning against the wood banister as you both watch the waves and birds as they meet in swoops. They glide with wings tucked, diving into the murky waters, soon to break back through with a prize.

An osprey, he tells you.

The pleasant bird-watching comes quickly to an end before you’re both swept back into work until late afternoon when the crew gathers to drink and celebrate.

After all, there’s only a few days left until you finally dock at your destination and the night is beautiful and clear.

You find Kazuha tucked away towards the quarterdeck.

With everyone else scattered on the main deck, the two of you are left alone with the waves and wind.

“You’re not going to join them?”

He looks up from his drink, setting it down before rising. Despite the way the sun has set, you can clearly see the mirth dancing in his eyes. Kazuha stops a few inches away from your face with his head tilted in question.

“Weeks we have known each other now…should I be offended that you’re still asking that?”

Clearly the unimpressed look on your face is enough to make him chuckle and apologize.

“No, I won’t be joining them. Not when I’d rather stay away and have you to myself instead.”

You flush and give him a little push. Again, he laughs and apologizes but you know that he doesn’t mean it. Regardless, you brush past him to sit where he was before, patting the deck in a way not different from that first night. All the same, your heart skips a beat.

“May I join you, traveler?”

A smile spreads across your lips. “Of course.”

So he sits and the two of you find solace in the little conversations you have.

It’s nice, to have someone to be close to, to share interests despite having backgrounds so distinct. He offers you a bit of his drink and you take a sip, holding it between both your hands. The face you make, he decides, is unforgettable just as it is hilarious. But his innocent enjoyment only lasts so long.

A dribble of the deep liquid beads at the corner of your lip.

You miss the way that his attention flicks to the way your tongue peeks out to catch the glistening drop.

Kazuha shifts, eyes flicking from your lip back down to the cup in your hand.

When his hand touches yours, guiding you to place the cup down, you snort. But he continues so he can interlace your fingers with his, to hear the way your breath shifts and sees how your pupils dilate when you realize the difference in his mood.

Would you mind if he were to…?

When your lips part and your eyes lower to his, he gets his answer.

"I hear the way that your heart beats loudly in your chest, your breath bated...” Really, his own hammers in his chest, louder than the crash of waves against the ship’s hull. He squeezes your hand.

“Just as I can feel your desire."

And truthfully, you know he’s noticed the way your gaze lingers on him. How when you two accidentally brush hands that you don’t immediately pull away. Not anymore.

Small flashes of little interactions with him come to light.

Finally, he leans in, and you find that his lips taste of the lingering bitterness of wine, tongue sweet as it laps at yours. He looses himself in the velvet of your lips and how they seem to meld to his so perfectly, the music of your sighs filling his senses and your heart beats like the rumble of the ocean.

To know what it’s like to hold someone so dear…this must be what that is.

Languid, your lips move against each other’s, reluctant to stop. Under the light of the maroon sky, you’re cloaked in the warmth of his body against yours.

When he finally parts, you’re laying against the deck with him hovering above you.

“I don’t want to regret this—the mere thought of being apart…”

He brushes a stray hair from your face, fingertips tracing over the curve of your cheek.

“Even if it means I will be risking my life, I will follow where you go. Destiny has made its mark, so who am I to break it?”

How can you refuse, seeing the sincerity of his vow, trusting the very man you met and befriended and come to love in a few weeks’ time? To know his gentle nature, the way that he seems always so aware of the world around him, the carefree way he approaches all he does—you’d known, somewhere deep within, that the moment he asks to accompany you, you’d selfishly say yes.

But it’s all too much to express in word, so you pull him down to meet you, desperate and yearning.

It’s easy, natural, the way that you melt into each other, fumbling as he helps you stand up—to make your way to his quarters between kisses.

The others still are above deck celebrating, unaware of the blossoming bloom between you, the private quarters void of anyone else. The door to his room swings open as soon as he turns the knob and you take him by his lapels and pull him inside.

The door closes with a soft click.

Setting you down upon his berth, he meets you for another kiss before beginning the tedious task of undressing. Even in a hurry, he carefully folds each article, ensuring their safety. When he turns, you’re left bare as well, looking at him through halfmoon eyes.

In his lungs, his breath is caught.

You’re beautiful.

So he says it in word and in the way that he guides you to lay with his body between your spread legs.

You utter his name, cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch while you guide him back down to you. It takes little for him to follow your movements, drawn in like the sweet song of a siren.

He claims you in the kisses peppered over your lips and jaw, dragging down to dip in the hollow of your neck. Beneath him, your pulse jumps and your neck flexes. So he continues, reverent. Pledging loyalty with every brush of his lips against your skin.

Yours, all yours.

Busied with the sensation of him, you relax, offering yourself to his touch. His unbandaged hand travels over the soft planes of your body, cupping breasts and hip, careful as it travels to press fingertips into your thigh. It lingers, so close.

The feel of your hand timid on his chest encourages him to explore the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before finally, finally tracing along your wetted cunt.

“Please—”

His fingers tease, sliding up and down along it, making you shiver beneath him. A sight to behold, one that makes his heart sing and stutter at once. And they draw out a shaky moan when they press into you.

He takes his time in the movement of his fingers, coaxing you with a curve and the dulcet tone of his voice in your ear.

Left with his name on your tongue, your arms wrap around his neck, wanting him closer, closer. He obliges. All you want in this moment is him—impatience running quick.

Kazuha is taken by surprise when you take him into your hand, marveling at the way his hips press closer to your touch.

It’s strange to be touched this way, even with his past experiences. How it feels to be caressed by you so intimately, just the idea of it being you beneath him, touching him, him touching you. He wants more of it. And so he bucks into your hand with hot desire coursing through his veins.

For a while, the two of you delight in each other’s bodies.

When he draws his fingers from your core, he doesn’t bother with the way your slick clings to his skin, replacing your hand around his cock with his own and propping himself up with legs kneeled and hips slotted between yours.

With bated breath you observe as he gazes into your eyes.

Even so smoldered with desire, they’re impossibly clear and gentle, reflecting the very swirl of emotions you feel with every thump of your pulse. Leaning closer, Kazuha brushes his lips to yours, slow.

“You’re trembling—are you cold?”

The room feels fine despite your state of undress, though he continues before you can speak.

“Allow me to warm you up...”

When he finally kisses you deep, his hips press into yours and fill you.

The ship sways, each rock back and fourth amplified with how he holds you close to him, how he whispers sweetly in your ear and describes just how good it feels for you to squeeze around him like that. Once more you’re swept into all he gives you.

Kazuha thrusts, every movement deliciously slow. The brush of his cock against your walls makes your eyes flutter and your lips part with every gasp.

Every sigh draws him in deeper. Slow, fluid.

With the ebb and flow of his movements, you find yourself lost. He is the raging tempest dragging you down to the murky depths yet is the same gentle wind that cools you. You’re lost in the way that he moans your name in your ear and hips barely pull away from yours before burying back deep.

You—spread beneath him with your legs bent to his sides—in the dim light drives him. Kazuha finds that no matter where he looks, how close his body is pressed to yours, it’s never quite enough. Every sigh that’s drawn from your lungs is the voice that calls to him to wander.

He’s mesmerized.

Each push stirs that need in you for more, coming to life in the way that your body arches to meet his. Almost…as if feeling him against you is your lifeline—a deep, unyielding need. The same strange feeling that he knows is coming to life within him. And with how you so sweetly grasp at his shoulders in your hands, he’s certain it is.

His arm slides down, hand flat against your lower back to lift your hips. Eager, you comply. A few strokes of his hips with the delicious drag provided by the new angle, and you cry out in whimpers.

“Right there—please, please-“

Murmuring your name, his lips press to your ear and his hips speed up as he searches for that spot once more. He’s good—feels so so good.

A kiss to your temple accompanies the quick build of the knot deep in your abdomen, pulling taut and teasing your release.

“Where should I touch you?” The croon of his voice calls.

You guide his hand between your writhing bodies, a shock of pleasure jolting when the pad of his finger brushes against where you’re most sensitive. Only moments pass before your vision flickers, body tensing and a choked moan escaping past your ruddied lips.

It’s too much—his careful movements to hit the right spot and the way his fingers trace over your skin and he finds himself lost in the feeling as well. The lingering feeling of your high sends shocks with every movement he gives, both of you left trembling. Shaky hands try to grab at his chest and arm, pulling it away.

He stills, just holding you close.

He can feel it again, the flutter of your pulse, when his lips pepper kisses along your jaw and neck to bring you back to him.

Finally back from your high, Kazuha carefully slides from within you in lieu of laying by your side. You’re still breathing hard when careful movements pull the blanket from the foot of the bed over both of your forms. With an arm draped over your now covered hip, he smiles soft.

The wind howls outside.

"Do you really mean it, Kazuha?”

He lifts his arm so you can turn onto your side, looking up at him with your head on the pillow. It’s cute the way the soft material forms around your cheek. But you’re still waiting for his answer.

The ronin simply places a kiss on your forehead, the warm brush of his lips punctuating his words.

“I will follow you til the day the sun ceases to shine—so long as you are by my side, the wind shall blow and the tides ebb. This shall be my vow to you...”

It isn’t until your expression relaxes, lulled to sleep by his warmth and the gentle rock of the ocean, eyes closed and your breathing even that he speaks once more. It’s quiet, save for the creaking of wood and the faraway shouts of the crew above in their revelry. Here, laying besides you, the feeling within his chest carefully tended to, Kazuha finds a new purpose. A newfound desire.

“…whom I love with a love / deep as the miru-growing ocean.”

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