#just hearing the way even after he was killed even two hundred years later
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warlordfelwinter · 1 year ago
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i will just never be over how much ardbert has the wol's back
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redheadspark · 1 year ago
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Miss
Summary - Azriel missed you on his latest mission, and he shows you how much he has missed you
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Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is a SMUT one piece, NO MINORS FROM HERE ON OUT!
A/N - I am no SMUT writer, apologies in advance!
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You were right at the peak, beyond close to tipping over and having that euphoria of pleasure consume you once again for the fifth time that night.  But then again, you were wishing not to let go just yet, this was the right amount of pleasure that was now wrapping around your bones and consuming you from the inside out.  All thanks to the Illyrian Spymaster above you who was taking his sweet time fucking you.  
This was his game: the game of Azriel the Shadowsinger of Night Court.
All you could breathe was Azriel, all you could feel was Azriel, and all you could ever experience was Azriel. There was no doubt that this was the best kind of drug that you could ever consume and need in your face life, even after 300 hundred years together as mates.  Azriel snuck into your life, someone you never saw coming when you were introduced by Mor.  There was no instant explosion of lust, nor was it bone dry and unfeeling.  It felt like you were slipping into a warm bath, your muscles unwinding instantly and a sigh of relief on your lips as you two shook hands for the first time.  Although you were friends at first, you both knew deep down that you were going to be connected in some way.
It only took a few years after meeting and building your friendship to feel the bond take place. From there on out, it was game over.
Azriel never stopped his hips, his toned muscles along his backside were working on overdrive as he was having over you while fucking you with such precision laced with intimacy and devotion, it was almost tooth aching.  But this was how Azriel worked when you two were in the throws of pleasure, going in right for the kill at the very beginning and then taking his time later on.  His patience in giving you pleasure could not be measured by any other, though you were not one to complain at all.  If he could, he could keep you on edge for hours on end and still have the drive to make you come undone within seconds.
Azriel was good at this game, and you would let him win every time.
"Oh fuck, my love," He growled against your cheek as his hips were still rolling.  Your legs were parted easily, sore for being spread for some time but now the feeling now a dull ache.  Just feeling his toned muscles and body against your own was enough for you to forget your thighs that were shaking.  His arms braced your head as your arms clung to his shoulders, feeling a bit of his wings as they were tucked against his back.  He kissed your cheek a few times as you were holding on for dear life, hearing him murmur, "I don't think I can ever stop,"
"Fuck…fuck don't stop," You moaned and pleaded as he gave a few hard thrusts, having your eyes roll back as his smile against your jaw was evident.
"I won't ever leave you that long ever again," He swore, engraining it in your skin as you bit your lower lip and moved one of your hands to run into his sweaty locks, "It was too….fuck…too long away from you, from being able to touch you like this…"
As if on cue, he moved one of his hands from being near your head to rubbing your clit, having you moan loudly and curl into him as the pleasure was now heightened to the tenth degree.  You were putty in his hands, and Azriel smirked from feeling you shake once his thumb rubbed your clit slowly and deliberately.  
You both knew you needed this night together, Azriel being away for almost an entire month thanks to Rhysand and his need for Azriel and his Spymaster ability.  Rhysand was on a tour of sorts to the other Courts, his own way of keeping peace with the other High Lords and going over the treaties that were signed.  Rhsyand was more than willing to go on his own, not letting High Lady Feyre come nor their own Nyx.  Feyre was running Night Court without him and Nyx was too young.  If left him having both Cassian and Azriel come along with him, Cassian talking to other army commanders in other courts, and Azrile being a second pair of eyes and ears in those meetings.
You were left alone from your mate for that long month, keeping busy and helping your High Lady.  But you weren't going to lie and say you didn't miss your mate, his company with you, your talks together, and most of all, the intimacy with him.  There was no doubt you two had a healthy sex life, a very healthy one at that.  The jokes from Rhysand and Cassian about Azriel and his high energy in bed were always evident when you and Azriel just got together, though you never let it affect you.  
But you knew those rumors were true when you and Azriel first slept together.  
"Azriel…Az please.." You mewled as his thumb was still rubbing your clit and his hips were still going at a constant cadence that was both filthy and yet touching at the same time.  Azriel knew how to fuck and he fucked well, no matter how many times you two were together like this, he made your heart soar and your moans sound lethal.  This night was no different, Azriel starting off the night instantly as you two made it back to your penthouse home in the city.  Azriel left his hesitance at the door, perching you on the edge of the kitchen island as he sank to his knees and dived in between your legs within seconds.  Shaking and moaning with no shame, you felt yourself cumming within two minutes of him licking into your pussy with just his tongue alone.  Watching your orgasm and your shake on the counter drew more desire from him, his chin still glistening from your release as he then licked his own fingers to have a second round with you.
Another four minutes, you came from his fingers.  Azriel was only warming up.
"Please what, my love?" He asked as he watched your eyes dilated and your lips parted in pleasure as he was still pounding into you slowly and with deep precision, "There is no way I can be done with you when you look and feel like this, beyond words,"  He lightly bit your jawline as you huffed and bit your lower lip, "I can't get enough of you, ever.  Nothing else has ever come close in my love, and I don't want anything else,"
You moaned, both from his words and how on edge you were.  He nuzzled into your cheek for a brief moment, breathing in your scent that was mixed with sex as he leaned back to be sitting on his legs.  Seeing you sprawled on your satin sheets, a gift from Rhysand on your wedding day, blissed out in pleasure with your hair plastered to your neck and cheeks and your eyes wide in love, Azriel thought you were heavenly.  His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, your pussy aching both in intense pleasure and lust as he drank in the sight of you.  He wanted this picture for the rest of his days, Inca se he had to go away again and think of you deep in the night for him to have something to come back to.
This night alone was memorable, fucking you against the shower wall as the water went cold against his back, then taking you from behind on the bathroom floor moments after turning off the water in the shower.  Which led to you two tangled on your bed, you riding him with a new core of desire in your belly.  But this, being pinned under Azriel as he was relentlessly fucking you into the mattress, was beyond words and made you feel like you were floating out of your body. 
Azriel was a pro at this.
"Cauldron, you're breathtaking," He hummed in lust as he was watching you while still perched over you, his cock rock hard inside your pussy as you lazily grinned.  You were still on edge, but that ache was nothing new for you in how he would draw this out for as long as he could to make your orgasm mind-numbingly amazing.  You reached up with one spare hand, Azriel then leaning down to have you cradle his face with your palm.  But your fingers were near his lips, you tracing his Lowe lips to feel how plump they were and you moaned.
"Gods you're divine," You moaned as his hazel eyes drilled into your own.  Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth to let two of your fingers slip into his mouth lustfully.  His tongue along your digits, with the wicked grin on his face, was enough to make you scream as his hips were moving again.  It was such a site, Azriel fucking you deeply and with new pent-up energy as he was sucking your fingers made you teeter on edge all over again.  You were so close, the feeling there along your spine and under your eyes as you were now babbling at him, knowing it was a turn-on for him to hear you moan and whimper his name.
"Fuck me…please fuck me….make me cum….make me cum.  Now, Az.  Now….I wanna cum…" You were repeating it like a mantra as he was drilling his hips again and again.  Nothing else was in your head, only the love you had for Azriel and how much he cherished you in his life.  He placed you first in all his choices and decisions as a Spymaster, choosing the less threatening missions and fights just to keep himself safe to come home to him.  How he loved you with both his words and his actions whenever he could.  Azriel felt as if you two being mates was fate for him, meant to be, and nothing would change that for him in his mind. Not even the Cauldron itself would take you away from him.  
And watching you orgasm, howling in pure pleasure and euphoria was enough for Azriel to also fall over the edge.  He felt himself empty inside of you, the sense of love and relief all over his body as his wings shot out in the moment of him summing.  The release, the new layer of love that was unleashed with the both of you, made Azriel almost float to the sky if he could.  
He would choose you over anything, over anyone, in this lifetime or beyond.  
Finally feeling boneless, he collapsed on top of you and held you close, still deep inside of you but not wishing to lose that connection anytime soon.  Holding you close, he breathed you in as your fingers were tracing his arms with the tips of your fingers.  Azriel held you like a jewel, delicately and with possession at the same time, while his lips were pecking along your neck and shoulder.  No matter how many times you two would fuck, there was still the foundation of you two loving each other.
Loving each other through the highs of your life and the lows.  Through the tragedies and the joy.  Azriel loved you with everything in him, you grinning against his head as you finally found your voice.
"If you intended on giving me the best sleep, then you have done well, my love," You said against his forehead.  Ariel laughed, the vibration of his laughter was against your neck as he held you a pinch tighter.
"You bring this side of me out in the best way," He cooed, then moved his head up to be eye to eye with you as your gaze on him lingered with affection.  He paused, looking you over and feeling the sensation of peace between the two of you.  Even in the tossed sheets and deep in the night, you both were back to the solid foundation of your love together.
"I've missed you so," He whispered to you, making your heart flutter as he nuzzled your nose with his.
"Not as much as I missed you," You hummed back, ruffling his hair as he leaned in to kiss you.  
The End
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fatuismooches · 3 months ago
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cor meum, manus tuas.
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synopsis: After your illness strikes again, Dottore decides to gift you a failed experi-, a new companion in order to soothe your injured heart.
includes: dottore w/ gn! reader
notes: A cute fluff fic where Dottie gives you Foxttore and the pufflings as a pet (the blue monster creature from Nahida's fairy tale.) He loves you a lot. Really just pure fluff and Foxttore getting on Dottore's nerves. Enjoy!
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For as long as Il Dottore had known you, you had always been one to suggest things that he had no interest in. It was a habit of yours, and sometimes he’s not sure if you’re being genuine about it or if you simply want to rile him up, as you usually do.
One such example was back in the Akademiya when the two of you finally successfully reversed-engineered one of those machines after a painstaking amount of work. It was arduous and tiring, but immensely rewarding. Oh, he had so many ideas and things to do now, but you- you had other plans.
“So, now that we’ve got it under our control, I think we should program it to have some new tricks.” Zandik had paused at your words, as for once that was a good idea. He wondered what the limit of such a killing machine could possibly be.
“Go on.”
“Alright, imagine this, it’s about to swoop in and land the finishing blow, but instead, a whole bunch of confetti pops out and-”
“No.”
“You can’t even pick up a sword properly. You know nothing about fighting like I do! Just hear me out, it’ll be a great distraction because they’d never be expecting that, and boom, that’s where the real attack comes in.”
“No.” (Later on, he found out that you’d programmed the thing to have a single flower shoot out, just for him. He swiftly removed it after you were done laughing.) 
Or when you had begged and pleaded with him to let you teach him how to cook, just once. It was no secret you were always the one on cooking duty during the Akademiya, for he had a severe lack of skill for it. Furthermore, Zandik had no interest in it, not having the time or patience for something just meant as sustenance. You, however, were insistent on at least teaching him the basics, for it was no way for a student to live (according to you.)
The slicing and dicing went well enough, but the moment you turned your back for a few moments, he had somehow set the smoke detector off, and the Akademiya’s dorm director gave you two a good scolding. You learned your lesson after this particular incident, but from your giggles, he knew you didn’t feel an ounce of regret.
Your antics were truly something he wouldn’t get used to. And now, over four hundred years later, your teasing nature had remained the same, only that it became more verbal as you didn’t have the strength to pull off your elaborate plans anymore.
Which is why lately you had been clinging to him with pleading eyes and a jutted lip, vehemently asking for a pet despite his numerous rejections, going so far as to try and recruit other segments (who, unfortunately for you, did not join your cause.)
“Please honey, my darling, my beloved, my-”
“My answer is not going to change, [Name]. I will not tolerate anything running around and causing a mess.”
“Aww, but come on. I know you love cats. I know you secretly pet them when no one’s looking. I know that-”
“That’s enough from you. Now, will you sit or should I strap you down instead?”
That line of conversation persisted for a while until you mostly gave up, only throwing the idea in from time to time with a hmph. But now, he was uncharacteristically wondering if there could be a solution to this problem. 
Lately, you had been confined to your bed and room, too physically weak to move around much. He and the segments had done their best, as they always do, to take care of you, but one did not need to be a genius to know that you were feeling down. Not only because of the aches your body gave you, but also because you were lonely for most of the day, seeing as his other selves were usually too busy to spend an adequate amount of time with you. Once again, despite his lack of care for the emotions and feelings of others, he could see straight through your feigned expressions of nonchalance.
Dottore hated it when you pretended around him.
He could raise the topic but it would probably make matters worse. Instead, it was much more logical to work toward a solution for the issue - the solution being a companion to keep a smile on your face, and your mind at ease. Now, an actual pet probably would be a hassle to maintain in the lab, knowing the kind of activities that were… well, unsafe to say the least, so he put that possible solution to the side for now.
Initially, he sought to create something mechanical, having seen the mechanical animals from Fontaine. Of course, his creation would be far superior, and it would be quite helpful with your condition and all. But upon further thinking, knowing your tastes… you’d probably prefer something softer, considering how much you liked to cuddle him and your plushies. 
It was a conundrum the scholar found himself in, making his darling lover happy was not something that could be so easily scientifically concocted like the rest of the conclusions he reached. It required much more than simply following the lines of reason. Perhaps that’s why Dottore often struggled with it. 
Yet he did not have the luxury of time to continue pondering, for he did not want to leave you by yourself for much longer. And so he continued to sit at his desk, his hands automatically filling out paperwork while his mind was focused elsewhere, still thinking about what he could possibly gift you. Something warm and cuddly with the ability to communicate with you to some extent…
That was when he remembered something he created long, long ago.
The memories of that creation came back to him rather quickly once he remembered. Dottore remembered every experiment he’d done, but some were just not very special or successful and lingered very little in his mind. This was one of those unnoteworthy results. It was no secret that he was known to… play around with the concept of life, ignoring the rules that guarded it so strictly… and it was this idea that led to the birth of a creature, one that certainly did not belong to this world.
It was a monstrous, furry black thing that hid its true self with some kind of suit, its lone eye bright and red. It hadn’t been the first time his experiments led him to the unknown, but this… was just something he didn’t care about at all. After a few tests on the creature, he lost interest rather quickly. It was the farthest thing away from the life Dottore wanted to toy with. In fact, he had planned to dispose of the thing, but the creature seemed to understand his words more than he anticipated. It quickly scurried away, creating chaos and knocking down almost everything it could, skillfully making its escape.
Dottore had contemplated searching for his odd creation but decided that it wasn’t worth the time or energy. Judging from the distaste it held for him, it probably wouldn’t come around anyway. So, it could exist in the far depths of the lab for all he cared. It wasn’t like this was the first time he threw things into the back and forgot about them. Now, he was rather pleased that he didn’t get rid of his experiment. He had known you for long enough that he was sure you’d find such a thing cute, for some reason. It checked the fluffy and easily holdable boxes too. His only question was whether it could be alive after all these years… well, it was certainly worth a shot, seeing as his solutions were limited.
The answer to Dottore’s question was a yes. It had unfortunately taken much longer than he’d liked to search the dusty rooms (although admittedly, he had gotten a bit distracted with reviewing the old things he dumped) but at long last, he had found the round creature peacefully dozing without a care in… some kind of bed it had crafted with a bunch of papers and black fur. It looked perfectly content… in all honesty, Dottore was a bit interested in what it had been up to all this time. Maybe it held more scientific value than he thought… 
Regardless, in one swift motion, Dottore grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and it immediately awoke, attempting to scramble away. Once its single eye laid on the man who so rudely interrupted its sleep, it blinked, before multiplying its strength to escape, even trying to scratch him, but to no avail. The Harbinger’s grip was far too strong, of course. Meanwhile, Dottore had already lost a bit of patience from the creature’s incessant movements.
“Stop that,” he demanded sharply, and the critter instantly went still as its eye continued to stare at him completely widened. Dottore smiled, which felt rather eerie and frightening to the oversized creature.
“What, did you think I came all the way here to finish the job? Oh no, if I wanted to, I would have done so already a long time ago. Instead, I have another use for you. Something that will benefit both of us. I’m sure you’ll agree,” he hummed as he turned to leave the room. But as he took a single step, he found himself stepping on something soft. Curiously lifting his foot, he looked down to see a small, black, round ball of fluff staring at him with a red eye identical to the creature he held in his hand. And then another came into view.
… And another. Soon at least over a dozen had popped out of the shadows, all watching at him with anticipating eyes. He had forgotten these balls of black fur were also a byproduct of creating the creature. Now quite a few had surrounded his feet and were hopping up and down, attempting to climb his pants, which he quickly shook off with a scowl. Well, it looked like these things were going to follow him regardless of what he said…
“If you all are going to follow me, be prepared to make yourself useful,” he sighed in exasperation before finally leaving, stepping on a few more in the process. (The usefulness in question, was making sure you’d be left with a smile.) Based on the odd squeaking noises the smaller creatures made, they seemed to be on board with the idea. 
When your husband suddenly presented you with a gift contained in a rather large box, you were a bit surprised. Not because you were receiving a gift, but because of the size of it. Normally, he would give you small trinkets and such, things he’d thought you’d like (that had no real purpose to him, retrieved solely for you. Yes, he was very cute unintentionally. You had a little shelf for his stuff.) But you had no clue what he could have possibly gotten for you that warranted the need for such a big container…
You had long discarded your book in favor of new entertainment (you were reading the same sentences over and over anyway), your hands gliding over the rough material. Dottore was looking at you expectantly, having barely said anything besides shoving the thing on your bed, with a simple “for you.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, your chest getting a bit lighter from the previously stuffy atmosphere dissipating.
“Are you going to explain yourself or leave me guessing as to what I’ve done to receive such a thing?”
“You have been lonely and tired, and I seek to alleviate your pain. Yet there are certain things I cannot always do, which is why I found a solution,” he stated simply, pushing the box closer to you as if it was no big deal. Your eyes widened as your jaw hung, speechless, before you sent a small, teasing smile to your husband.
“I… well, who knew you could be such a considerate man? Keep that up and you’ll make me blush.” You couldn’t help but heat up a bit from his concern, although he didn’t say it outright. And you didn’t really have it in you to deny his words too, he was right after all, you have been lonely and tired from being cooped up in your room all day.
“Still, I want a hint! Ah, it’s too heavy for me to even lift up…” You couldn’t guess what could be in here. “Could it be the latest new novels from Inazuma?”
“No, but those are on the way. It’s something more-” At that moment, the box slightly shifted and you blinked in surprise.
“Oh, oh! Are these new models of Beta’s miniature Ruin Machines? Did he finally make the Ruin Sentinels series?” In truth, initially, the segment wasn’t interested in creating such pointless machines, but after you oh so innocently challenged him to make them movable and fit in the palm of your hand, he took the bait and presented them to you smugly. Needless to say, you very much liked your little collection of action figures, and you were hoping he had finally made ones that could fly.
“No, it’s-” Once again, he was interrupted by even more dramatic shuffling, thumping echoing loudly from inside the box which made you scoot back a bit.
“Dottore, you sure whatever’s in here isn’t going to attack me…?” Your voice was more lighthearted than worried, but now you were squinting at him a bit suspiciously. Dottore’s expression remained unaffected, but inside he was the slightest bit annoyed. He had told those damn things not to move around. Thankfully, a sharp slap to the cover of the box caused the movements to cease, and he only smiled at you once again.
“As I was saying, it’s something you have been asking about for a long time.” He watched as your face turned thoughtful, fingers drumming when suddenly it became very obvious as to what it was. 
“Is it… is it what I think it is?” He found your expression rather amusing as he witnessed your eyes becoming sparkly with joy.
“Go ahead,” Dottore motioned and you wasted no time pulling the cover off the box, your eyes meeting a furry, blue creature whose lone eye gazed up at you curiously. You blinked at it, and it blinked back at you, but you had no time to say anything before some other unknown creatures began pouring out the box and spilling onto your bed, some crawling on your lap. This was certainly not the average pet you had expected… but you were not complaining. These things were the cutest - not to mention the little strand of hair on the top.
“Dottore,” you giggled at the fluff tickling your skin, “what exactly are these- oh!” Your words were interrupted when the larger creature suddenly jumped out of the box and launched itself into you, pawing your chest. You reciprocated the attention in delight, giving it numerous head pats and taking a closer look at it. Most of its soft fur seemed to be blue, although its head was black, and its beak was harder than the rest of its body. Regardless, it was completely adorable, and it seemed to like you very much.
“It is something I created in my lab during one of my experiments. I figured it would be something you’d enjoy.” You lit up, and the scholar couldn’t help but appreciate how you seemed to glow.
“You made these little guys for me? Oh, I always knew you could be such a romantic! I have my husband, my son, and now a cute pet. Isn’t it nice to see our family grow, Zandik?” He remained silent at your hastily made conclusion, deciding that the little white lie wouldn’t hurt, especially not when you looked this happy. After all, he imagined your response to him keeping this creature in the backrooms of his laboratory for ages wouldn’t be very well received, considering how attached you were to it already. Thankfully, you didn’t notice the glare the creature sent him either.
“Do they have names yet?” Dottore thought back to the string of numbers and letters attached to this experiment and opted not to disclose that, shaking his head. You hummed, trying to think of what name to bestow upon your new pets until you quickly came up with something good.
“Foxttore,” you stated firmly.
“Foxttore?” He repeated a few seconds after you, rather unimpressed.
“Yes! Because he looks like a fox, and he also kind of looks like you!” You playfully squished the creature’s cheeks.
“I bear no resemblance to that creature,” he frowned, immediately refuting your statement.
“Don’t look like that,” you teased. “It’s a compliment. You’re both cuties that are the same shade of blue,” you leaned in to kiss him gently, a simple way to silence him despite his vexation. “Now as for these little ones…” you thought once more as the black puff balls clung to your arm, Dottorelings… no, that’s too long… how about pufflings? Yes, that will do nicely!” Seemingly understanding your words, the pufflings began jumping up and down in glee. You then moved closer to the man and enveloped him in a hug.
“Thank you for this, Zandik. I am very happy,” you whispered quietly as you snuggled into his neck. It was the truth - you really were happy to have some company constantly around. Your husband returned the hug and you loved how his strong arms felt around you.
“Of course. But if they happen to cause you any… trouble,” he sent a look to the thing now called “Foxttore”, “be sure to tell me.”
“Aww, don’t say that. Foxttore is a good boy! Right?” You smiled brightly at your new pet, who was kneading the blanket, watching the two of you. The contrast between its creator’s less-than-pleasant face and your wide grin was stark and rather easy to choose from. It then hopped up and practically wedged itself in between the two of you, looking up to you with a pleading eye, desperate for attention. You squealed with delight and pressed the creature to your cheek, nuzzling against it.
When Dottore noticed the cheeky look his creation sent him, he wondered if this was actually a good idea.
Foxttore and the pufflings were the best and cutest companions you could ever ask for.
The pufflings were always scattered about your room, resting in different locations. You honestly had no clue how many there were, nor could you tell them apart, but you swore they squeezed through the bottom of your door somehow because sometimes they’d return with random items. They seemed pretty starved for attention… they even liked it when you squished them like a stress ball.
Foxttore was equally as cuddly, but also rather intelligent. He would fetch you items so you didn’t need to get up, and he could even turn a doorknob… you were fascinated. One of your favorite things to do was give him a note for him to deliver to a segment, and he would actually deliver it. (Said note usually contained you begging a segment to visit you, otherwise you’d die without their attention.)
After a lot of cuddling and rubbing, you found out that Foxttore was just a severely oversized puffling with four legs instead. That blue fur of his wasn’t even his, just a suit he wore. It was quite funny to see him without it on. It seemed rather shy without its fox fur, but with enough kisses, hugs, and reassurance, it had no problem lounging around without it.
You read them stories, showed them everything your room had to offer, placed some of Beta’s cute pink bows on them, bathed with them - you were starting to look forward to the day much more now that you could wake up to them.
While Dottore knew that you would get attached to the little monstrosities he gifted you, perhaps he didn’t anticipate it to reach this degree. Even after you had gotten well enough to stroll around the lab again, the blasted things were attached to your hip the whole time.
Visiting the segments? They would come up to you, caressing and teasing you with their deliciously infuriating small touches and kisses, and then all of a sudden a small crash would sound throughout the room, the culprit being Foxttore.
Visiting him? He’d have you on his lap, about to pin you to his desk, when he noticed the pufflings watching him from all corners of the room. It was maddening trying to chase them away, but then you’d get pouty about how the creatures didn’t like to be alone. (The only segment that the creature seemed to like was Zandy, although it had taken a while - a bit of scolding from you, and many offerings of food from the child to Foxttore had done the trick.)
As much as Dottore was glad your mood had improved greatly, admittedly, it would please him if he could just chuck his creations out into the Snezhnayan snow, just to finally get some alone time with you. But you loved them too much, so he resolved to resort to other means… eventually.
Over time, your pets gradually began to not hog your attention the whole time, but you were very insistent on helping Dottore and them become friends. It wasn’t very easy, however, they seemed to have some tension between them. You weren’t really sure why, but you still loved having them together.
“Dottore! Oh Dottore, you have to watch this,” you puffed out your chest proudly as Foxttore trotted behind you. Your husband looked at you questioningly before you spread your arms out, directing them toward the creature.
“I taught Foxttore tricks! Watch this! Foxttore, sit!” Your pet obediently sat down, his tail wagging (although you had no clue how that worked since it was just a suit…)
“Foxttore, spin around!”
“Foxttore, roll over!”
“Now high-five me!” Dottore watched in amusement as the blue creature followed your commands with ease. Perhaps it really was smarter than he thought. Regardless, all he cared about was that you were occupied with something, rather than being by yourself.
“Okay, now fetch Dottore’s secret stash of sweets!” At that, Foxttore began making its way over to one of the numerous bookshelves in Dottore’s office before the Harbinger quickly realized what you said, and stopped the creature in its tracks.
“I knew there were too many pieces missing,” he stared at you humorlessly, while you sweated nervously.
“W-What? You said I was allowed to take some!”
“I said you, not this… thing,” the man then picked up Foxttore by its strands of blue hair, which the creature fought at, and dropped it in your arms like it was some pest. “I’m moving it.” 
“Please don’t! I won’t do it again!”
The continued pampering of Foxttore had, unfortunately for your lovers, become a norm to see around the lab. He was a spoiled lil shit, in other words, who could do no wrong in your eyes… which is why every new thing you did had little to no effect on them anymore besides an eye twitch of annoyance and a promise to bully the creature later. The current situation was one such time. Dottore had come into your room only to see many abnormally small clothes scattered on your bed, with you in the center of it all.
“Oh Dottie, you’re just in time! Look at what I got!” You then held up Foxttore in all his glory, his new hoodie substantially thinner with different patterns, a great big smile on your face.
… It was only you who had the privilege of using his time like this.
“Now before you ask how I got these, I had them custom-made! See, I wanted to sew the clothes myself, but my hands have been too shaky lately and then you’d get all grumpy if I hurt myself with the needle, so I just asked Columbina to find someone for me and she did! She’s a great friend!” You continued to ramble on. 
“See, the poor thing gets too hot sometimes, especially when he starts running on our walks,” you said sadly, while he wondered how exactly you walked this monstrosity, “that’s why I got him different clothes! And they’re stylish too! Look, he’s even got pajamas! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You looked at him, your eyes sparkling and glittering with light that dazzled him.
In all honesty, Dottore didn’t really care about the little abomination of a creature. In fact, he probably leaned more into disdain for it. But what he did care about was you, and what made you happy, what put a smile on your face since he hated for it to be missing.
“I believe your definition of cute is rather unusual.”
“Huh? How could you not think Foxttore is the cutest thing ever? Oh… I see your game. You think I’m the cutest thing ever, don’t you?” You boldly teased him which didn’t phase him, only making a confident smirk grow on his face.
“I suppose that would be accurate, yes. Nothing else comes to mind that could be compared to your beauty,” he said smoothly, plucking the creature from your hands and dropping it elsewhere, which it clearly disliked, but he was more interested in your reaction. Your mouth slightly ajar, heat creeping up your face with a flustered expression, breathing speeding up a bit.
“A-As long as you’re aware,” you mumbled shyly, turning your face away, although your slight smile was apparent.
Needless to say, Zandik was always aware of his beloved.
You always loved it when you were able to leave the lab. Sometimes they were frequent outings, sometimes they were very rare. It all depended on how well you had been feeling lately. Today, you had finally been able to go out for a short walk with Dottore after so long. The cold air and snow had you shivering, but feeling the wind hit your cheeks was worth it. (And being able to cling to your husband was a definite plus in your books.) But you were still happy to come back home.
… Especially when you were greeted by your little friend.
As soon as you walked through the door, you noticed that Foxttore was impatiently waiting by the entrance. The moment he saw you, he sped toward you at light speed and pawed at your legs for pets, hopping up and down. You couldn’t help but laugh as you bent down to give him some attention which he happily reciprocated, but then he pulled away and started wildly running around the two of you.
“Aww, Foxttore is having zoomies!”
“… Pardon?”
“He’s having zoomies!” You smiled at your husband before crouching down, and your pet immediately ran into your arms and settled himself there as you picked him up. “Aww, you must have missed us so much, didn’t you?” You cooed as you rubbed his tummy, while Dottore merely stared at you blankly. The man then noticed the creature’s eye had narrowed into a half circle directed toward him as if to mock him. 
If there was a point system between the two of them as to who was able to steal your attention more, Dottore would sorely be losing.
It was one of the few nights where you were able to spend a night like most couples do at the end of the day - resting in the same bed with your lover. You weren’t even sure how you managed to do it this time. You thought it was probably due to your persistence but also that he was genuinely tired. (Well, he had been genuinely tired for ages now, but you were able to get him on a weak day, perhaps.)
You had always loved it when Dottore held you, even if it was slack or just one arm, you always felt safe. Protected. Warm. Happy. The feelings only amplified when both his arms caged you into his chest, which was the perfect place for you to snuggle. (Still, he’d never admit to being the little spoon from when he was a student.)
“Hey, Zandik?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done lately, by the way.”
“Of course,” his answer was as simple as could be. He stroked your hair languidly, always one to brush off your thank yous.
“I mean it,” you wiggled out of his grip to look him in the eye, lip jutting out slightly.
“I already know you do. You do not need to keep saying it every time.” You pouted at his response. How else were you supposed to show your appreciation? You then grabbed his arm, which was surprisingly pliable, and placed his hand over your heart.
“Then let me know if you need anything from me. Anything at all. I have to pay you back eventually, you know.” Dottore looked as if he was enjoying himself.
“What do you propose? I’ll listen to your suggestions.”
“Well… I have kisses and cuddles as my expertise. I can cook and bake for you sometimes too… oh, but I can also try doing some of your paperwork! …What? You’re not impressed? I guess I can try to do some more… unsavory tasks as well. The Fatui agents listen to what I have to say quite easily,” you continued to chatter as Dottore’s fingers made their way from your cheek to your neck and then your collarbone, making you stammer at the sensation. “Hey, you’re not even taking me seriously, are you?” Your husband only chuckled at your furrowed eyebrows and grumbling.
If anything, he would want you to repay him by letting him see the faces you’ll make once you’re finally free of your illness.
“Anyway…” you squeezed his hand with yours that still rested on your chest, “You probably know this already, with that ever-calculating mind of yours, but you hold my heart in your hands. I’ll always be here with you.” It was a funny thing to think about, giving your heart to someone like him, in both a physical and intangible sense. Trusting him with your frail body, trusting him with your love, knowing he could squeeze it to a pulp if he wanted to. But he wouldn’t.
He would treat your heart with the utmost care and precaution, not daring to risk even the slightest harm to it.
Dottore stared at you for a few moments while you held his gaze, resolute on making your point known. Wordlessly, he began to move closer to your soft lips, intent on making his response to your statement physical. He was so close, his nose brushing against yours, and your warm breath on his. He was about to finally satiate his desire when-
Something was scratching at the door. Loudly, too. The sudden noise made you jump back and turn your gaze to the door. The Harbinger had a bad feeling about this.
“Did you hear that?”
“No.”
“You’re just lying now!” With a huff, you pushed the blankets off, much to his displeasure, and made your way to the door, opening it. There was Foxttore, making strange noises that he tried his best to mask as cries.
The bliss Dottore felt a few moments ago had turned to immense annoyance immediately.
“Oh, you poor baby! Did you have a nightmare or something?” You exclaimed before quickly scooping Foxttore into your arms and bringing him onto the bed. “It’s okay, you’re with us now…” You softly murmured, stroking it gently as you let it settle on your chest. Where Dottore’s hands should be right now, cupping your soft skin instead of that damned creature.
Dottore swore he was going to throw that thing out once you were asleep.
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ethanedwardsnumberonefan · 7 months ago
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Is It Over Now?
Rafe Cameron x Reader
angst, angst, angst
Word Count: 1K
Summary: Breaking up with Rafe was one of the hardest things to do, but at least you’d be free and feel good right? …Right?
A/N: I’ve never written a fic before um
And did you think I didn't see you?
There were flashing lights
At least I had the decency
To keep my nights out of sight
Rafe Cameron, a name you hear all throughout Kildare, not always in a good context but often with the name Y/N L/N attached to it. Since in diapers you and Rafe knew each other. Best friends to lovers is what it was, the perfect trust fund kids who were destined to eventually fall in love, wed and have the perfect fairytale family together.
It truly was all on that track before the small cracks in the relationship weren’t talked through and patched but left neglected and unattended till there were too many to handle and she cracked.
After the break up you took the time to reconnect with everything you neglected throughout your romantic relationship with Rafe. Your friends, family, yourself. This time was the first time you’ve felt free since you started dating Rafe, the memories and time with him prior that were strictly as friends were the best years of your life, and so was the beginning of dating him. Till you realized while Rafe slowly destroyed himself with his malicious coping behaviours of drugs and violence, he was also destroying you.
Consoling him and endless ways to help him always worked with him, honestly anything that was just with you. But focusing all your attention into making sure he was okay, drained from your duties to make sure you were okay.
Suddenly everything just revolved around Rafe and you couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, you took a whole gap year for him from university that eventually turned into two, which eventually turned into not going anymore because you were scared he was going to get himself killed.
Even after everything you did for Rafe including putting your life on hold, gave him no mercy to show he was “okay” without you. The rates of parties at the Tanney Hill spiked up and so did the amount of girls in the Outer Banks whispering about their amazing night together with Rafe Cameron.
Worst of all you couldn’t say it didn’t bother you. Even with everything you still loved Rafe, a person and love that you had can’t just be erased. Then again, your journey to reconnect with everyone meant reconnecting with friends, which meant reconnecting with the party life.
The difference between you and Rafe was at least you had the decency to keep your nights out of sight, keeping it low and minimal and not throwing it out to the entire country that you were now single and ready to do anything with anyone now.
Let's fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later
If she's got blue eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her
You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor
You search in every model's bed for something greater
Perfect, everything’s been “perfect”. Three weeks after the break up you’d say you’d been doing okay but some things just don’t feel right anymore. The high of being free was finally settling into the reality that you’ve lost your best friend and boyfriend.
Although Rafe was draining and depended on you like you were his nurse, he also was still your boyfriend. Or now ex-boyfriend. All the little things you began to miss and thoughts of “did i make the right decision?” Scathed your mind over and over. You didn’t think you could go anywhere without seeing something that reminded you of him, not even your own bedroom.
It wasn’t till a trip to the country club when you saw Rafe with an oddly familiar aura with him.
The girl he was with looked exactly like you. Her hair, her eyes, her smile. Irritation fills your body, you thought you’d been going crazy when the other night you told your friends the theory that Rafe was only going with other girls that resembled you but this really confirmed it because this girl was an exact clone of you.
Did he dream of my mouth while he kissed her? While he did anything with her? Because he knew well off in no matter how many girls beds he climbed into he’d never find anything greater.
Let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later
(Flashing lights) I was hoping you'd be there
And say the one thing (oh, Lord) I've been wanting (oh, Lord)
But no
2 AM, you’ve been at this party for eight hours in honest hopes you’d bump into Rafe. You couldn’t take it anymore. You were weak and missed him. Every thought you had was of him and seeing him so easily run off with half Kildare’s population was killing you. That’s why you were here. You took the entire day to mentally and physically prepare yourself to see him at the party and get him back. It was pathetic but you couldn’t take it anymore.
But he never came. You sat in the corner of all these sweaty people dancing and snorting drugs for hours and Rafe never showed up. You thought about calling him, or just texting him but even that was too much.
On your way out of the party you hear a ping from your phone and open it to a message from your friend that sent you Rafe’s most recent post.
It was of her. That girl from the country club. The girl from the club sitting in your spot, your hidden, secret secluded beach spot that you and Rafe discovered in sixth grade near the water that tourists and locals didn’t even know about.
Your heart shattered. Tears spilled down your face as you crumbled down to take a seat on the houses front steps.
It was so naïve of you to even think that Rafe wouldn’t exploit that spot. You knew how petty he was. You should of seen in coming. Yet deep down you were hoping that it would never get to that point.
But here you were, on the front steps of a random house party sobbing into your hands all because you truly believe that Rafe Cameron was going to come to the party and say the words you’ve been yearning to hear from him again.
I Love You
How foolish.
pt. 2…?
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useless-catalanfacts · 3 months ago
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I remember exactly what my thoughts were when I first learned what had happened to my great-grandfathers. I used to talk to one of them —the survivor, who lived in Venezuela— on the phone when I was a kid, so I had always known he had had to "leave after the war" (Spanish Civil War), in a very vague sense. When I was in primary school, another class of the last year was studying the Second World War and my mother volunteered to share the letters we still keep that my (other) great-grandfather had sent from the refugee camp and from the front. So I guess it's just normal that at that point they also shared the "secret" with me. Like hundreds of thousands more, and like at least one person in most families in Catalonia, they fought during the war but feared what came after even more than the suffering of war itself. When the fascists won the war in 1939, they crossed the Pyrenee mountains by foot to cross the border with France (they cross into Northern Catalonia, the little bit of Catalonia that was annexed by France centuries ago) and escape the persecution that was mass-murdering antifascists. But when they crossed the border with France, the French authorities locked them in the refugee camps on the beach (my great-grandfathers were in Argelers beach camp), where they had barely any food or drink, no houses besides little tents they made themselves out of reels they could find on the beach, and very little clothes for the winter. Many people died of cold and hunger, particularly the children. When children were born, the mothers buried them under the sand because it was the only way they could think to keep them a bit warm. The humid sand of the beach.
And as I was hearing all of this, my only thought was: how did people let this happen? Why did the French government lock them to make them suffer like this? Why did the guards steal from them and mistreat them the way they did? Why did the people who lived near not give them food or jackets?
And to be fair, many people helped in some way. That's why the Swiss nurse Elizabeth Eidenbenz is a national hero for us Catalans. One of my great-grandfathers managed to escape the camp by being given work by a local man. However, a new war started in Europe (WW2) and the Nazis seemed to be coming near, and Franco (the fascist dictator of Spain) had given orders to the Nazis that any person who had gone on exile from Spain was stateless and could be killed (stateless: the blue triangle in concentration camp prisoners' clothes). My great-grandfather found a way to get to a ship to Venezuela and Mexico —thanks to the open borders of these two countries, thousands of people were saved and started a new life in safety. My other great-grandfather, however, used the only other way to escape the camps: when WW2 came, he enlisted in the foreign legion of the French army to continue the work of fighting fascism. His legion was eventually captured, his friend he had enlisted with was taken to a castle where the Nazis used him for experimenting, and my great-grandfather was taken to Mauthausen concentration camp and later killed in a gas chamber in Gusen camp at the very end of the war. And still, growing up I always heard that we are a lucky family, because at least we know what happened to him. Hundreds of thousands of people are still missing, buried in mass graves. The state of Spain (including Catalonia) is the 2nd country in the world with the highest amount of unfound people, after Cambodia, because of all the massacres of the fascists and the bodies under roadside ditches.
And for all these years I have always had in my mind: how could people do that? And how could people see it and allow it?
Now, we are all like the people of France with a choice of helping or letting it happen. The internet connects the world and we are all witnessing how Israel is committing genocide on the Palestinian people. After having turned Gaza in an open-air concentration camp for decades, now they have decided to completely wipe out its people, homes, cultural heritage, schools, hospitals, universities, shops, streets, sewage system— everything. And just like the people back then, we have the opportunity to help Palestinian people survive.
We cannot save our relatives, but we can do what we wished someone had done for them. If you would have wanted help for your family, if you would have helped mine, please if you can make a donation for Palestinian people.
Here's a list of Palestinian people who are raising funds to escape. Israel has made it impossible for Palestinians to leave the heavily-bombed Gaza strip except for the Rafah crossing (to Egypt); and then Israel went and destroyed the Rafah crossing, too. But the Rafah crossing opens every so often and the people with an Egyptian travel agency permission can cross. To get the permission, they must pay 5000$ each person over 16 years old and 2500$ each child under 16, and this doesn't cover transport nor living expenses. You can collaborate to saving a family by donating to their GoFundMe campaigns. Every donation can make a difference. Click each person's name to go to their GFM page, where you'll find more details of their story.
Yahya Ahmad: 20-year-old Pharmacy student from Gaza wants to evacuate his family including his sick father and young brother, after their house was destroyed and they lost everything. (Verification link) @yahyaahmed5
Mahmoud Khalaf: a PhD student from Gaza in Ireland asks our help to raise funds to get his family out of Gaza. (Verification link: number 151) @mahmoudkhalafff
Muhammad Shehab: Israeli bombs destroyed their home and killed relatives and friends, his family has already been displaced 9 times. They want to escape Gaza and apply to become asylum seekers anywhere possible. (Verification link) @mohammedshehab2
Mahmoud AlBalawi: this family needs help to evacuate for the safety of all and particularly the children who suffer of malnutrition. (Verification link) @elbalawi
Palestine Jad Al-Haq: Palestine gave birth during the war but there aren't medicines nor needed materials to raise a healthy child, her mother is also ill and everyone risks illness as a result of the situation created by Israel (destroying the sewage system, not allowing food and medicine, bombing the hospitals, etc). The whole family wants to escape. (Verification link) @falestine-yousef
Fadi Ayyad: 18-year-old whose family's home has been destroyed, he's taking care of his family including younger relatives. They are very close to reaching their goal!! (Verification link) @aymanayyad82
Abdelrahman: 22-year-old Abdelrahman and his mother. They lost their home and Abdelrahman lost his school where he was studying. They are also quite close to reaching their goal. (Verification link) @anqar
Aziz Zaqout: Heba is a pregnant mother of five, faced a health crisis that took her to seek treatment outside Gaza right before the war started. She was separated from her 1-year-old baby and the rest of her children, leaving them in the care of their father, your donation can help them reunite and save the children and father. (Verification link) @azizzaqout
Abd Alhadi Aburass: the war destroyed his home and advocacy bureau, needs money to save his family and provide healthcare for his children. (Verification link) @abdalhadiaburas
Aya Alanqar: for Aya, her husband and their three children (2, 5 and 7 years old), displaced 13 times after their home was destroyed. (Verification link) @ayaanqarsblog
The children Kareem and Carmen: Yousef Hussein is raising money for his nephews Kareem and Carmen after their family of 8, including their mother, were killed when their house was bombed. They are displaced in a refugee camp with other relatives, they want to evacuate and join their uncle Yousef in the USA. (Verification link) @adham-89
Samer Aburass: Samer, his wife and their 3 children lost their home and businesses, and their children (particularly the youngest one, 1 and a half year old) suffer malnutrition. They want to evacuate for a safe future. (Verification link: number 196) @samerpal
Also consider donating to the Municipality of Gaza's fundraiser to fix the water and sewage system: Gaza Water Project.
These are only a few people, who had contacted me on this blog or on my main blog (with less followers, so it's better to post here), but there are many more. You can also check this spreadsheet of verified fundraisers like this one, follow the Palestinian blogger @90-ghost who verifies fundraisers, or use the site gazafunds.com (every visit shows a different verified fundraiser).
Visca els pobles i visca Palestina lliure 🇵🇸🕊️
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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 6 months ago
Text
Little Love
Love Bites, Chapter 3 // Love Bites {Masterlist}
Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader
Summary: Appearances can be deceiving, but they can also tell you everything you need to know. A second look at the elf you once called a friend is all you need to fill in the two-hundred year gap.
Word Count: 4,631 words
Warnings: flashback within a flashback (your perspective), alcohol, Astarion's parents (I gave them my own names), grave desecration, grief
Tumblr media
☟ Continue below the fold ☟
Astarion never went back to the same tavern twice. Not for many years, at least. But, against his better judgment, he went back to yours, three nights later.
He wasn’t sure what was drawing him back, not really. It wasn’t as if this particular tavern seemed very promising. Its patrons were, well, regular people. Nothing about them seemed particularly special. In fact, it was probably more dangerous to be going back so soon—for all Astarion knew, Rahul’s friends were still loitering there and would kill him the moment they saw the man Rahul had left the tavern with. The last man who ever saw Rahul alive. 
His other victims from the past two nights were inconsequential. They hadn’t insisted on telling him their names, the male druid and female elf who had each been a little more than an hour’s worth of his time combined. They had been easy targets, lonely people who were all too easy to seduce. He almost felt bad for them. But not as bad as he felt about Rahul. Both nights, Astarion had jolted out of his trances with a shout upon hearing Rahul’s screams in his dreams again. Both times, he’d been rewarded by Godey with a whipping. 
Even as he walked into the tavern, Astarion wasn’t sure what he was doing. It was only after the door had swung shut behind him, hitting a little bell as it did, and you looked over from the bar and raised a hand in greeting did he realize why he’d come back.
He locked eyes with you as he made his way toward a small table in the corner. He paused, watching you. There was something in your eyes that made the tension in his shoulders disappear. 
You’d done your hair differently today. It was braided back, a couple strands of it loose around your face, clearly having escaped during your work. Your beautiful face had morphed into an expression of surprise, like you were shocked to see him here again.
But there was something else in it—the slightest bit of repressed hope, an expression Astarion had seen all too often on the faces of his victims just before they died, when they still thought he might save them from his master. 
On your face, though, hope was comforting. You looked almost…relieved to see him. 
Before he realized what he was doing, Astarion turned toward the bar and sat directly in front of you. He heard your breath catch in your throat and your pulse speed up and for a moment he felt a twinge of regret. You, too, would make an easy target. 
You recovered quickly, however. You finished wiping down the bartop and dropped the rag into the sink. You leaned on the bartop. “What can I get you tonight, sir?”
“A glass of your finest red wine,” he says after a moment of thought. 
Something minute in your face changed. You blinked too fast and hid the look in your eyes, but for a moment the façade of a bartender serving a patron disappeared. It was only a second, but was enough for the gears in Astarion’s head to start turning.
You laughed with a smile on your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, hun. The ‘finest red wine’ changes from person to person. What kind of flavor are you going for?”
Hun. The moniker stood out in Astarion’s mind, dominating every other word you’d said. Hun, short for honey, and for some reason, he could hear the complete word in your voice: softer, gentler, loving. Not at all the way a bartender speaks to her patrons. 
Only after you raised your brow did Astarion remember you’d asked him a question. He shook himself out of his head. “Oh, something full-bodied,” he said. 
“Now that I can work with,” you said. You turned to search your shelves and Astarion watched you release a long breath very slowly. You wiped your palms on your pants before reaching up and sliding a bottle from its place. You presented the bottle to him. “How about this?”
Astarion studied the label and vintage. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of it,” he said, shrugging idly. “But if you think I’ll like it, I’m inclined to trust you.”
He watched you cut off the wax seal and uncork the bottle. You poured enough for a tasting into the glass and slid it across the bartop to him. 
“How does that taste?”
Astarion sniffed the wine before swallowing it down. Pleasantly, it didn’t taste like vinegar, like most wines he’d had the bad luck to drink in tavern after tavern. He could taste the alcohol and the grapes and the blackberry undertones easily, all melding together wonderfully.
“This,” he said, passing back the glass, “is absolutely what I am looking for.”
You grinned and filled up the glass. “I thought it might be.”
Astarion swirled his glass while you re-corked the bottle and set it in ice. He watched as you helped another patron sitting at the bar, a middle-aged woman complaining about her husband being out of work and asking if there was perhaps a job for him at the tavern.
You calmed her as you made her cocktail, talking soothingly and nodding in sympathy as she complained about trying to feed their infant. It was your sympathy that made Astarion feel pity for the woman. 
Something about you was achingly familiar. There were times when you spoke, certain words that you said, that struck a chord in him, simply because they sounded familiar. The way you moved behind the bar, so graceful in a space that was unbearably small, seemed comfortable to Astarion, as if he would be able to anticipate your movements and react accordingly if he were to join you behind the bar. 
It was almost painful, this feeling of familiarity and alienation combining in one person. It was like the nights when Astarion first realized he was forgetting his life before being a vampire where he would sit in the dark and grasp at straws for pieces of his life, only for his mother’s face to fade into nothingness and his father’s voice to be lost in the shadows forever and—
A twinge of pain split through Astarion. It was nothing compared to the pain Cazador or Godey regularly inflicted on him, but it was enough to make him flinch anyway. He rubbed his temple as if he could will the building migraine away.
Your eyes flicked over to him, watching the motion with concern, but it just confused Astarion further. You reacted to him so readily, so easily. If it hadn’t been for how innately close and familiar you felt, Astarion would simply have chalked it up to your attraction for him. It wasn’t unlike his prey to keep a close eye on him. But he hadn’t even picked you as his victim for the night, he hadn’t even attempted to seduce you yet. This was entirely of your own accord. 
You gave the woman her drink and pulled your braid over your shoulder as you helped the female tiefling Astarion had seen and considered taking back to Cazador the other day. Suddenly he was very glad he hadn’t; the disappearance of a regular might have been enough to force him out of this part of town for several months at least. 
Astarion glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the tavern. He didn’t see the group Rahul had been with anywhere; perhaps they had already moved on, without a care in the world for their lost friend or comrade or what have you.
Perhaps they thought Rahul had settled into a happy life with a nice young man and would be staying here to live out his days, enjoying nights of passion and drinks at a nice tavern and playing the protector of the pretty boy elf he’d left with. 
Astarion wasn’t sure if it was for his own sake or Rahul’s that he wished that such a fantasy was what they believed. 
As you gave the tiefling a glass of champagne, your eyes strayed back to Astarion. He caught your glance and grinned.
“Surprised to see me still sitting here?” he teased.
You shrugged. “You were here three days ago and vanished without a trace. Forgive me if I feel like you might blow away in the wind.”
“Sometimes it feels like I might.” The words slipped out without any thought behind them. For a moment, Astarion wondered what the hell was wrong with him to dare say such a thing, but your sympathetic smile soothed him.
The talent of a well-practiced bartender, he thought. Get your patrons to loosen up, ply them for more liquor, take home more money—all by smiling and charming and flirting. From one actor to another, I must hand it to her. She’s quite good at this kind of thing.
“Wanna talk about it?” you asked, propping your head up on your hand. The movement exposed more of your cleavage, but judging from the look in your eyes, Astarion guessed that wasn’t your purpose in the movement. You genuinely wanted him to open up.
Your gaze stopped him from speaking. Your eyes were clear and focused entirely on him. You weren’t like the other bartenders he’d chatted up in the past, with their shifting eyes betraying how they were never really focused on him but instead on their tavern and the other patrons they could squeeze more coin out of. 
And, what’s more, your lips formed a soft smile. Joy and love and the sun itself seemed to radiate from you and your expressive face. You looked at him the way a young woman ought to look at her betrothed, with the purity of young love, much more genuine than the pseudo-love and lust he so often saw in his victims. 
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Astarion whispered, unable to stop himself from asking. 
You realized yourself quite suddenly. Your face dropped and Astarion wanted to beg you to look at him like that again, to apologize and say he never wanted you to stop looking at him like that—he just wanted to know why? Why had you chosen him to be the object of your affections?
Your eyes dipped to the bartop, where his fingers still held the stem of his glass. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “You— You remind me of someone I know. Someone I miss.”
“A lover?” Astarion guessed, attempting to make it into a tease.
“More than that,” you said, your voice impossibly soft and serious. You fiddled with the strings on your corset. “He was my best friend.”
Astarion’s heart sank in his chest. “Was?”
You nodded slowly. “He died. A long, long time ago.” You shake yourself out of the sorrow that settled on you like a blanket. “You just so happen to look a lot like him. Hells, you even sound like him, just a little bit. I’m sorry if that made…this…strange. You just…sort of brought him back to me, for a moment.”
“Not at all,” Astarion said quietly. “I’m…happy to have brought you that.”
You nodded, lost in your thoughts, your eyes fixated on his. Your lower lip trembled. You sought words, but came up empty handed. All you said was, again, “You remind me of him.”
~❊~
It’s him. By the gods, it’s really him.
You kept busy for the rest of the night, watching Astarion out of the corner of your eye. For he was Astarion, you were certain of that now. Hearing his voice, smooth and suave and the same as you remembered had confirmed it for you. The moment he’d requested your finest red wine, you could hear him calling you darling, could hear your name rolling off his tongue. 
He didn’t remember you, that much was obvious. Some part of you was glad he didn’t, because you weren’t sure what you would have done if he had remembered who you were. You had to focus on that gladness, or else you were going to focus on the disappointment, which made you want to sit on the floor and cry like you had when you’d first received word that he was dead—the kind of crying that left you shaking and never seemed to stop and sounded more like screams than anything else. 
You were also quite certain he would not be flirting with the young elf sitting next to him if he remembered you, his best friend since birth and lover of nearly two decades. 
Perhaps even more obvious than his lack of memory was how he was alive—or rather, undead, for it was quite clear he was a vampire. He was careful to hide his fangs, but the red eyes were enough for you to know, combined with the paleness of his skin and the color of the skin around his eyes. It might have been two hundred years, but you knew your lover well-enough to know he had not been quite so pale in his life. 
The realization of what he was answered a question that had lingered in your mind for years, ever since you’d paid a visit to his desecrated grave. The city had explained the dug-up earth to be the vandalism of the gang that had first attacked and killed him and had assured you and the Ancunins that Astarion’s coffin had not been touched; his body remained inside.
Clearly, they had been wrong. 
You glanced at Astarion. The smug, seductive, confident look on his face was that of a practiced lover, nothing like the goofy and slightly shy boy you had made love to. You wondered what happened, but knew a lot could happen in the two hundred years between now and that terrible night. 
~❊~
The Ancunins walked hand-in-hand. You were just ahead of them, leading the way to their son’s grave, a plot you had chosen to keep their beautiful boy in the sun at high noon. It was far from high noon now; they had chosen to visit the grave in the night, certain they would be attacked by the Gur who had killed their boy if they were seen mourning. 
It was a beautiful night, the kind of night you and Astarion would have loved. He would have held your hand and helped you to climb up to the roof, and you would have sat there for hours, cuddling and talking and admiring the stars he’d been named after. He would have told you about his day at work and played with your bracelets and rings when talking about the difficult rulings he’d made that day made him anxious all over again. He would have wrapped his cloak around your shoulders when you got cold. He would have kissed your nose when you asked to go back to the safety of the bed you shared. He would have helped you climb down and would have put you to bed, only to go stand on the balcony to stare up at the sky for a few moments more. 
He loved the night, and this was the kind of night he would have wanted to have lasted forever: not so cold that you shivered instantly, but cold enough to have a chill bite in the air. Bats danced in the air and wisps of clouds moved across the moon and stars. Pale light illuminated the world in a hauntingly beautiful way. It seemed particularly cruel. 
His mother trembled terribly. Already, silver tear tracks stained her cheeks. You had never seen Selwynn so frail, so scared. Even when she’d found out her son had been murdered, she hadn’t been the skeleton she was now. No, then she had been a fire, screaming and raging and demanding answers until the tears started coming. Now she was a ghost, silent and pale, her veins stark against her skin. All the life and color had drained from her in the past few days. 
His father fared better, but not by much. Thesan’s eyes were sunken, his hair matted and limp, the whites of his eyes bloodshot, though he had not cried at all since he heard the news, unlike his wife. He hadn’t been resting, but then again, none of you had. More than once, your mother had stumbled across you in the night to find you in the kitchen, staring sightlessly into the dark, a glass of water held limply in your hand.
You were glad you hadn’t let them see the body. Looking at them now, you were certain it would have broken them to see their golden boy without life. It had been enough to break you; let them, at least, live out their long lives with their last memories of their son being of him alive and smiling and kissing them goodbye as he left for work. 
Somewhere in the graveyard, an owl called. Another answered. Mice squeaked and scattered nearby, scurrying for shelter amongst the fallen leaves and in the shadows of tall graves. 
“Where is he?” Astarion’s mother asked. Her voice was little more than a faint whisper, lost easily in the slightest breeze. Gone was the strong, operatic voice that had once sung her son to sleep when he was little. “Where’s my son?”
“Patience, darling,” Thesan said, sounding just as—if not more—tired as she. 
“He’s just ahead,” you promised. You looked forward to where you knew his grave to be. Through the grey dark, you read his name on the stone and it felt wrong, like it went against the grain of your life to see him like this—a stone instead of a young man. 
The three of you came to a rest before the headstone. You took a step back and let them crouch before their son. Silence fell heavily over them and the cemetery. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes; you looked down so they couldn’t see you cry. They’d seen enough of your tears. 
“Astarion,” Selwynn whispered, her voice wavering. She reached out to touch the stone, tracing her son’s name carved into it with care. For a moment, she seemed to be at peace, looking at his name. It didn’t last. In moments, she crumbled with a cry that was a cross between a sob and a scream. 
She keeled forward, grabbing the stone and pressing her forehead to it. She inhaled sharply and coughed on her own tears. When she finally cleared her throat, helped by her husband rubbing her back, her cries became wails that shook her entire body. The freshly turned dirt beneath her began to stain her pale grey dress. 
Thesan puts an arm around his wife’s back, comforting her the only way he could, and he put his palm on the top of the stone. He began murmuring in Elvish, too low for you to hear clearly, but you caught a few words and understood he was whispering for his son to find safety in the afterlife, until he was reborn. After a moment, his broad shoulders began to shake and your heart cracked in half as you realized he was crying for the first time. His tears interrupted his speech every so often.
You wiped your tears from your eyelashes and sat on the ground. You hugged your legs to your chest, biting your lip so hard you drew blood to keep yourself from crying again. 
His father looked up at the starry sky, a fist raised in anger. “He’s still a child!” he shouted. “A child! And he’s in the godsdamned ground!”
A sharp cry came from Astarion’s mother and she got to her feet so quickly she knocked her husband to the ground. She looked at you and you rose from where you sat.
“I can’t stay here,” she gasped through tears. “He’s beneath me. I can’t— He— He shouldn’t be… He should be in my arms! In your arms! But he’s beneath me!” 
She looked at the ground like she might start digging it up to see her little boy again. You took her hands in hers, holding her tightly. 
“It’s okay, you don’t have to stay. You can go. It’s okay. He’ll understand. He knows, I promise you he knows,” you whispered. A tear rolled down your cheek. 
Selwynn squeezed her eyes shut. “I just want him to be okay…”
“He is okay,” you promised. “He is with the gods. They’ll send him back to us, one day, in a new body.”
Her lower lip trembled. “But he won’t be my son anymore.”
“There can always be more children,” Thesan started, speaking hesitantly.
“No!” she snapped, almost screamed, at him. She drew in a deep breath and shook her head. Calmer, she repeated, “No.”
He nodded. “I thought not.” He wrapped her in his arms and she cried into his chest. He opened his arm to you and you joined them in their hug. “You are still our daughter, even if you are not marrying our son. You are…the only family we have left.”
A small sob escaped you. Your body trembled as you looked up at him; you had always thought Astarion resembled his mother more, but now all you could see was the man Astarion would never get to be in his father’s face. “Thank you.”
He kissed his wife’s hair. “Come, darling. We should get home. You need to rest.”
You led them out of the cemetery. It was only after you were closing the gate leading into it that Selwynn stopped short, gasping loudly.
“Flowers! I— I forgot to put flowers on his grave,” she moaned, folding her hands above her heart. She glanced at the flowers outside the gate door. “I have to go back—”
“I’ll do it,” you said. “Get some rest. You need it. You deserve it, after all of this.”
“He deserves flowers from his mother,” she said weakly.
“In the morning,” Thesan said. “When all of this has died down, we can come back and pay him our respects.”
You shared a look of understanding with him; even if it took weeks, months, years for Baldur’s Gate to stop reeling from this crime and for the Gur to calm down from the ruling—which was being reversed later in the week, much to the relief of everyone else who the Gur had believed complicit in Astarion’s actions and who had feared for their own lives—the Ancunins would visit their son again to say farewell when they could finally do so in peace.
You watched them go. Several long, silent minutes passed, but you waited until they were out of your sight and you were alone before you bent to pick flowers for your lover. You chose them carefully, plucking only the most vibrant and tallest and fullest for him. Once you had a sizable bouquet of wildflowers in your hand, you headed back through the cemetery and search out Astarion’s headstone again. You found it easily, but your heart stopped beating when you saw it.
Something was wrong. You knew it instantly. The already chill air seemed to turn frigid as you looked at the plot. It was too dark, too big, spilling into the spaces next to it. It looked nothing like it did only minutes ago. 
An iron tang filled your nose, distinct and wrong and laced with something you could only describe as evil. 
You ran, dodging around headstones to get to the grave—to get to Astarion—as fast as possible.
I couldn’t protect him that night. I have to protect him now!
Mud squelched beneath your feet, smelling strongly of blood and death. You looked at it in horror; it was a mix of dirt and gravel and clay from deep in the earth, all of it soaked in blood. All of it in piles, coming from the center of Astarion’s grave. 
The smell was worse than the sight: chemicals of entombment, the body’s natural gasses, blood, vomit, sweat, urine. Something about it seemed alcoholic and heady, making you sway on your feet, though you knew that could easily just be from your disgust. 
But worst of all, his stone was splattered with the terrible mixture. 
Your stomach dropped to your feet and then rose to your throat. You cupped a hand over your mouth to keep back your bile. Tears streamed down your face.
A moment. You had been gone only a moment. And in that time, someone—or multiple someones—had come and desecrated your lover’s grave, as if killing him had been enough. 
You fell to your knees with a gut-wrenching scream. You bent in half, clutching the flowers to your chest, clenching your teeth tightly. You bit down on your hand to keep from screaming again.
Muffled sobs ripped themselves from your chest. “Astarion,” you gasped. “Astarion, I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I— I— I’ll fix this! I promise! I’ll…I’ll speak to the town’s jury, I’ll get them to punish whoever did it— Gods, your grave. Your beautiful stone…”
Mindlessly, you put the flowers aside. You stepped around the muddy mess of chopped up dirt and pulled out your handkerchief. You cleaned the stone with it as best as you could, using your fingers and spit when the cloth was too dirty to do anything else but push the gunk around. 
“There,” you said when it was as clean as you could get it. “Clean. Clean like you.”
You looked at the turned grave dirt. “I have to fix this, too. Your parents—I can’t let them see you like this, can I? They’ll be devastated.” 
You got back on your knees and began shoving the dirt back over the grave, patting it back down and drenching your hands and arms with bloody dirt. As you worked, you spoke to him: “I’ll get this all sorted out in the morning, love, I promise. I’ll get you justice. I won’t stand for this, Astarion. I’ll talk to someone first thing tomorrow morning. They’ve already killed you, can’t they just leave you be? Is dying not enough for—for a simple ruling? Yes, I admit, it wasn’t the best decision you could have made, but there had to be a better solution than…than mugging you in a godsdamned alleyway and then desecrating your grave! At the very least, if they can’t respect you, can’t they have some respect for your parents? For me? Your mother doesn’t deserve this endless pain!” You sighed, leaning back and wiping your forehead. Some part of you, the rational part, was aware that you had streaked blood and dirt all over yourself, but the part of you working didn’t care very much. “Of course, I can’t make you too pretty yet, Astarion. I’m sorry, but no one will believe me if I fix you up perfectly. But I can at least make it look like you haven’t been graverobbed.”
You worked for several more minutes. At last, you staggered to your feet, a wave of exhaustion passing through you. 
“You know what?” you said to the headstone. “I’m not waiting until morning. I’m going to go talk to someone right now. I can’t let you stay like this all night. Not when your stars are shining down on you.” Dimly, you were aware that you looked like a graverobber and that you looked insane—but that would probably help your case. “I’ll be back soon, Astarion. I promise I won’t leave you alone like this.”
You began to walk away from his stone. Only a few paces away, you paused and turned around. You stared up at the sky and pointed up at it as if you could command it to watch over your dead lover while you were gone. 
Once more, you knelt to kiss his name. 
☞ ❊ ☜
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[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]
Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin
Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil
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landovilla · 1 year ago
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read your mind.
༉‧₊˚ reader gets a certain reply to her story.
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pairing: charles leclerc x poc!reader
fc: aeri from aespa!!
trope:situation opps!
warnings: suggested smut but no smut happens. semi-love bombing?? toxic umm.. time skips a lot.
content: reader kind of falls too fast. charles being a dickhead idk. lando 😂😂 shh.. texts & insta post (just once). maybe bad gammer sorryyy. low caps !!!!!!
words: 1.3k ??
🎐 speaking!: hi this is my first post im kind of nervous... mo encourage me to start posting on tumblr!! also might make a part two if it gets attention 🤗 hope you enjoy!!
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she wasn't a fan of him, she never was at first. It was just an accident that he followed her nothing else. But it wasn't accident that he replied to her story right?
charles_leclerc replied to your story!
ynusername's story
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charles_leclerc
😍😍
ynusername
erm.. I think you replied on accident!
charles_leclerc
that was no accident sweetheart
ynusername
oh
charles_leclerc
you're very pretty
ynusername
tell me something I don't hear🤣 be original racer boy
charles_leclerc
haha racer boy?
ynusername
isn't that what you are lolol
charles_leclerc
I mean yeah?
ynusername
ok 👍
she didn't reply after that. she didn't felt the need to. yes, a famous man that hundreds of girls drooled over would kill to be in her position! but yn had heard questionable actions the man had gotten into. she thought he would get the damn hint by now but he didn't.
charles_leclerc
ouch delivered for 1 week :(?
ynusername
I'm a busy girl..
charles_leclerc
not even time for me?
ynusername
no who are you?
are you mark lee didn't think so
charles_leclerc
just wanna know the pretty girl
ynusername
you literally don't even know who I am
NO. How did you find my instagram?
charles_leclerc
lily follows u
ynusername
um ok but ??
charles_leclerc
she posted ur post once on her story and i just had to take my shot
ynusername
erm congrats! 🎊🍾
charles_leclerc
are you always a cold bitch
ynusername
and do u think every girl can just fall for you!! oh I'm so sorry !
charles_leclerc
I must admit ur funny
ynusername
I know I am☺️
yn wasn't going to keep texting him that's what she said. she was wrong, she found herself clicking the Instagram app opening his messages. she found herself texting him everyday, as the time passed soon or later they exchanged numbers. the more they talked, the more she found out about him.
she knew he was three years older but it was fine! he didn't seem to have bad intentions. she loved the way he would give her pet names or responding quickly. yn just felt like she could fall in love again after her ex situation.
the two soon or later began calling after two months of charles begging, she finally gave in. "so.. are you gonna say something or just be staring at the screen?" yn spoke softly looking into her camera. his grin widened, "you have a hot voice too-" she stared at her screen for awhile before replying, "ok I'm hanging up now-"
charles!!
hii pretty girl
yn 🤍
helloooo char:)
charles!!
cant wait to see you after all of these months
yn🤍
it's literally been what?
5 months talking 😃
charles!!
and? I promised you that confession in person didn't I?
yn🤍
shut ur mouth
charles!!
only if it's ur lips
he was the sweetest once they met, he wrapped an arm around her waist instantly. charles pecked her cheek and looked at her with a wide smile.
"hey"
she smiled back,
"hey"
they were happy for awhile, why wouldn't they? charles would take her on the most expensive dates yet. he would have her by his side no matter what the occasion. when it was race day, she was there even when he lost terribly. she would always be there for him.
but they weren't official, she never thought he would take this long to ask her to his official girlfriend. when she confronted about it to him, he always said the same thing.
"I do want you to be my girlfriend. It's just I want to plan it out perfectly just for you, my girl"
she should've never believed him. she should've started getting suspicious when he suddenly stopped asking her to go to his races occasionally. but she didn't question it, just brushing it off thinking he was just busy that's all.
yn
hi!!
charles!!
hey pretty, how are you?
yn
good gooddd
you've been lagging on me tbh😞
charles!!
Ik ik
it's just been busy lately
yk training and stuff
yn
yeah I know
I just miss talking to you
charles!!
you'll have me to yourself soon
:)
yn
right ☺️
yn just thought he was busy that's all. he's a celebrity and celebrities are always busy, right? it wasn't until a week later where he finally invited her to a dinner celebration with other f1 drivers. his hand resting on her lower back the majority of the time as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.
"you should've not worn this dress. you look out of this world" he whispered in her ear before placing a peck on her cheek. she felt herself start forming a smile at his compliment. no matter how hard she tried not give him an reaction she always failed. the sweetness from him quickly ended when he left her alone in the table going to chat along with the other boys.
she was incredibly bored, one of her fingers tapping the table. she didn't know anyone in the celebration. the girlfriends of the other drivers were in their own world not even paying attention to her. yn was safe to say she felt excluded by everyone here. she would've been talking to lily but lily seemed to skip this dinner party this time.
20 minutes ended up passing by, she felt incredibly small at this point. she flinched slightly feeling someone tap her shoulder. her gaze shifted to the person next to her. he was smiling at her widely. "hey! did charles dumbass leave you here alone?" yn chuckled slightly. "I guess he got too caught up with the others" he hummed with her response.
"I'm lando" she hummed giving him a soft smile, "lando? alright im yn" he grinned this time showing off his pearly whites. "yn, what a pretty name for a pretty girl" she laughed shaking her head.
she placed her chin on her hand taking in his appearance, "I would compliment you back but I don't think I can" he leaned closer to her. "oh really? why? is charles your boyfriend now?" she was going to say yes but he wasn't her boyfriend. "well not yet. though I only have eyes on him" lando tilted his head and leaned back onto his chair. "if I was him I would've made you my girlfriend already by the third month" his words made her heart sting.
the ride back to the hotel was silent. when the two had step inside charles closed the door behind them leaning against the door. "didn't know you were all smiles with lando" yn sat on the edge of the bed looking at him. "what? he was just keeping me company" she frowned, why was he acting like this?
"stay away from him pretty, he just wants to steal you from me" he spoke softly as he walked in front of her. "you can do that for me right?" his hand brushed her strand of hairs away from her eyes. she was a weak women, "yeah I can" charles smiled satisfied he grip her chin up placing a kiss on her lips. he slowly pushed her down onto the bed. "so good to me, yeah?" he heavily breathed.
"god, let's get you out of this dress"
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yn felt stupid for waiting his notifications. she wonder what went wrong was it because she responded too quickly? she didn't know but she was tired. she was tired of his excuses for not asking her out officially. she was tired of him responding so late to her lately.
yn
what position you got her in😂😐
charles.
what..?
yn
oh now u reply lol
charles
yn, you know im busy.
yn
and im sick of you being so-called busy everyday.
charles
you know that's what I mean though. It's not my fault I have training and stuff.
yn
you know what charles, im tired of whatever we have going on. I don't wanna be just a stupid situation. Why won't you make me your girlfriend yet? it's been over 7 months of us talking, going on dates, literally fucking?? what else do you want from me?
charles
im sorry yn. it's just im scared my fans will hurt you they aren't used to me dating girls with black hair and yk?
yn
what the fuck.
im starting to think you don't actually like me
charles
I do I swear
yn
no you don't. you would've accepted me. sorry im not a blonde girl with blue eyes. have fun with your new bitch i can tell you've been texting someone new.
charles
wait yn please just listen to me
read
he spammed her for almost a week but that quickly ended. she was heartbroken, who wouldn't be though? she hated the fact that he just was experimenting around with her. that same week he was spotted with a girl with blonde hair. it broke her, so she did what any girl would do after a situation.
she instantly went insane, crying to sad songs on blast. she clearly looked like a mess, it didn't help that after that her fall semester started. people stared at her like she was crazy. her hair was always in a messy hairstyle she didn't even bother wearing makeup or dressing up.
"you seriously need to get over him" her best friend said through the phone screen. yn looked at her with a frown, "i seriously cannot" the friend sighed shaking her head softly. "that's because you keep making it worse. I say dye your hair blonde and post just to show him you'll look good in any hair color" yn raised her eyebrows as she fixed the camera on the call.
"isn't that just making me seem desperate though?"
"well, if he texts you just ignore him. hey who knows maybe another driver will text you" she winked teasing.
"I don't think so... charles didn't let me talk to any of them" she sighed flopping down on her bed again.
"and? he isn't here now is he?"
ynusername posted!
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ynusername 🪩🍾
comments off
you have two new messages!
charles_leclerc
hey, I missed you, pretty girl.
landonorris
hey😁
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🎐: wowahhhh that was crazy 🤣😂(no it wasn't) I hope you enjoyed this short oneshot!! lmk if you want a part two fr😊
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How I long for the time, when your lips would kiss mine
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Mihawk x reader.
This fic is part of the Beast in Black series.
*****
Three months later.
You smile, more satisfied than greedy, as Vice-Admiral Garp slids a parcel across his desk, close enough to let you take it.
"Thirteen million berries, including the bounty you were owed since last year." he explains as you lift the parcel to stash it in your satchel, without bothering to open it to count the bills neatly stacked inside: you know you can trust the Marines - regarding the money you are due even if not about everything else "Don't take it the wrong way, (name), but I was surprised you had decided to take on this assignment: it is quite a bit below your usual level."
"I am aware. I have been... in poor health, which is why you haven't seen me in a while, and I wanted something simple to make sure I had gotten back to full fitness. From now on I'll be only taking on level three bounties, as usual."
Garp nods, promising to call you when your services will be required. "Got plans for tonight?" he idly adds, leaning back in his chair as he observes you rising from yours.
"I am flattered, Vice-Admiral, but I never mix business and pleasure."
"That was not what I meant. I was simply wondering if there was a reason why a certain man who never spends a minute more than he has to here at our HQ has been sitting in the waiting room for almost two hours twiddling his thumbs."
The mental image makes a smile blossom on your lips; you don't bother trying to deny it, since it would be clearly pointless. "Figuratively, I imagine."
"Probably. Still..."
"Still, thank you for your time. I'll see you soon, Vice-Admiral."
Garp laughs; he seems to find the whole matter highly amusing, which means it is probably a good thing he is discussing it with you and not with the other interested party.
"He was very worried about you; I could feel it in his voice." he suddenly adds, almost as an afterthought.
A simple, inscrutable smile is the only answer he receives, and a moment later you have left his office and are walking down the corridor toward the room Garp mentioned.
Mihawk is alone in the room most of your (less memorable, but still dear to your heart) meetings have taken place in, an half-empty glass of red wine in front of him. He is perfectly still, sitting and apparently lost in his thoughts, but the moment you appear at the door he turns to look at you, relief evident in his gaze... or maybe, just maybe, it is you who are able to perceive it.
"Hello."
He reaches you at the door a moment later, Yoru hanging from on his shoulders, and for a moment you remain face to face, silent as you simply relish being in each other's presence once more. His hand brushes against yours; holding back from hugging him is the hardest thing you have ever had to do.
You happily follow him when Mihawk suggests you go outside to talk, but once you have reached the plaza facing the Marine HQ neither feels the need to actually speak; night is falling, a beautiful sunset painting the sky of a hundred shades of red.
"Has your leg healed?" he asks after a while, as you unhurriedly walk down the pier, the salt-laden air making you feel at home; after all, you were born on an island.
"Perfectly, thank all the Gods. And I took down the pirate i was sent to kill in two days, which means I haven't gotten rusty despite fifteen months of indolence." you happily inform him "I have started with something easy, so as not to overexert myself, but I am tired of sitting around doing nothing; I am ready to get back to business."
"That is good to hear."
You smile, finally taking his hand. "I have missed you." you murmur; it is easy, even pleasant, to utter those words, because no matter how usually strict Mihawk is in judging others, you know you don't need to hide from him, not even the most fragile, most painful part of you "I am so sorry I never called or wrote, I... I needed to be alone. To come to terms with what I had discovered."
"I know, (name). I am not crossed, and..."
"And?"
He sighs; for a moment you simply know he wants to ask whether those three months actually helped, if your heart healed along with your leg or the pain of knowing you will never be a mother, never raise the children you have wanted for nine years, is still part of you, slowly gnawing at your heart like waves gradually wearing away the sturdiest rock. If he did, you are not sure what answer you would give, because you don't have one for yourself. Rationally, you know the passing of time will help, at least a little, and since you have always thought suicide is not the answer you can't help moving on, or at least going on, by inertia if nothing else, and the occasional moment, hour, or even day, of sadness and complete despair doesn't prevent you from cherishing the small and great joys life still throws your way, from the gentle, protective hug of your mother to the pleasure of seeing your bullet, shot from half a mile away, hit the bullseye in the middle of the target's skull... to being finally back in the presence of the man you have never stopped thinking about, even though you had forbidden yourself from using him as an incentive to get back to what you had been. You don't want to be the sort of person who needs her loved one's affection to carry on; you want to be better than that, for yourself first of all and for him as well.
"It is good to see you." Mihawk says after a while; he can't read your mind (or at least, you have no reason to suspect he can; on the other hand, you wouldn't be too surprised...) but you could swear he knows what you are thinking, what you are feeling, or maybe he simply has the gift to say what the person in front of him needs to hear "I have missed you. Again."
"I'm sorry..."
"You don't need to apologize. I just meant..."
"I know, Mihawk. And... I feel the same."
Silence falls between the two of you, and while it is not uncomfortable or tense, as usual when you are with Mihawk, you perceive you can't simply enjoy it as you let time pass you by. You have already wasted so much of it, fifteen months after your first night together (a night thinking back to which makes you still shiver in such a pleasant way; a night that was the beginning of something marvelous, even if not what you hoped) and three after you had quietly confessed to each other you both wanted to be more than simple acquaintances and drinking buddies. You are still young, and rushing things rarely helps, at least when feelings are concerned; but as you said, you have been idle for so long, and you want, you need, to regain control of your life.
"A new restaurant has just opened not far from here; it is pretty good, I am told." you mention after a moment, suddenly thinking back to Garp's conjectures "Would you let me buy you dinner?"
Mihawk grimaces. "I'd be more than happy to dine with you, but you have to let me take the bill."
"I have earned thirteen million berries twenty minutes ago. I think I can afford a dinner for two." you point out, relieved that scowl was not due to the prospect of spending the evening with you.
"That changes nothing. I would have imagined a noblewoman would have been keen on respecting traditions."
You smile; Gods, you are so happy to see him your heart is singing. "Then..." you begin, lowering your voice to an intimate murmur as you take both of his hands in yours, the distance between your bodies reduced to a breath "What if I let you pay for the dinner, and then I take care of dessert? In my inn room?"
Mihawk sighs, his usual serious demeanor betraying his actual feelings: amusement, and relief, and desire. "I suppose an after-dinner drink wouldn't hurt."
"Great."
He kisses you - on the forehead, since you're still in public; when you raise your eyes to his, you can see him smile. "Let's go, then."
The descending night hides you in its dark mantle as you set off along the pier, your fingers still interwined.
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ironspiderfics · 10 months ago
Text
this is supposed to be a vacation
for @meilz
by @iron--spider
~
Tony loves this kid.
It’s a montage at the beginning of a movie—Tony was crazy about Peter almost immediately, couldn’t accept it, his own damn daddy issues courtesy of Howard Stark, then he had to accept it because the kid kept trying to die, then things settled, they worked together, then they unsettled and the kid dissolved in Tony’s hands, and a year of heavy-drinking and nearly exploding himself in the lab wound up with all the dissolved people undissolved and the kid back and Tony in a hospital bed. Three-week coma. Whole screaming celebration when he woke up loud enough to bust his eardrums and restart his heart.
But Peter was there. Peter was there. 
Time slowed to a crawl, sped up and slowed down again, and Tony tried to recover. He knew Peter and his friends went on that European trip—he encouraged it even though Peter was worried about leaving after everything. May and Happy chaperoned, and then everyone nearly died because Quentin fucking Beck decided to roll out of Tony’s past to try and kill off someone he loves. He failed, because Peter is Peter, and Fury and Happy shut down the false allegations Beck tried to put out there before he was arrested, and everybody came home.
It’s been about two months, since then. And Tony had just gotten back on his feet a week or so before Peter left, and he’s even steadier now. Getting steadier by the day. 
But he loves this kid. More now, than ever. The son he never had. He loves May, he loves the kids that come along with his kid, he loves everything Peter has to say and everything he doesn’t, he loves keeping an eye on his missions, he loves the way he fits so snug into Tony’s little family. 
And he loves him enough to know when he’s crashing. When his eyes are tired and his patrols aren’t as succinct and punchy as they usually are. When he needs a vacation from his recent vacation. As if nearly being killed by some asshole in London is the vacation any of them need. 
So, Tony makes a couple decisions. 
After all the shit they’ve gone through, what the hell could go wrong with a break?
~
Peter knew Tony was planning something, because he isn’t secretive when he’s excited, and he found out what he was planning when Tony asked if Ned and MJ’s families would mind if he took them out of the city for a few days.
And about a week later, they were heading upstate to Mohonk Mountain House.
And Peter hasn’t been complaining, at least not to Tony, but his tiredness has been bone-deep since he got back from London. Since before that, really. Coming back from the dead can do that to someone, and he doesn’t even like to call it dead, and apparently they were all tiny particle souls inside that infinity stone but it doesn’t matter because that’s a whole other can of worms and he gets more tired and more weary every time he even thinks about any of that. 
He swung right into a wall the other day. Slap right into it. He almost broke his nose again. He feels like that might have been the moment Tony decided on this vacation—Peter could tell by the look on his face when he told him that he’d crossed some kind of line. 
They walk inside the main lobby of Mohonk and Peter keeps hearing Ben’s voice in his head. You’re gonna catch flies, Pete. But he can’t stop gaping at everything. Like…he’s been in a Hilton and this is so much better than a Hilton. 
“This place looks straight out of a Hitchcock movie,” May says, and she knocks Tony on the arm.
Tony laughs, and Pepper turns around, raising her eyebrows at May. “Let’s just hope we don’t have any Hitchcock-type events happen while we’re here.”
“What would that mean?” Ned asks, catching up to the group and trying to whisper in Peter’s ear. “You’ve seen Hitchcock movies. I remember you watched that weird apartment one a hundred times.”
“I love that movie,” Peter says. Rear Window. He never wants his leg to be broken. He knows he’d go insane just like that.
“You haven’t seen Psycho?” MJ asks Ned, hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulder.
Ned hums a little bit. “No. I know about it though. No crazy Grandmas for me.”
“That’s not what happens.”
Leather couches and tall ceilings and intricate carpeting and columns and everything somehow looks really rich but really comfortable at the same time—
“No,” Tony says, turning around and pointing at them. “No, no, and no.” He points at May too. “No. No Rear Window, no Psycho, no Vertigo—maybe a little bit North by Northwest—no, you know what, no. Not that either. This is going to be the lamest movie you’ve ever—this isn’t even gonna be a movie, there’s no—there’s no plot, this is just—a family video. A home movie. That’s it.”
Family video feels warm, and Peter grins.
“Of course, Mr. Stark—”
“It’s gonna be fine—”
“Absolutely nothing—”
“Listen, I’m hitting that buffet—”
“I’m just gonna sleep,” Peter says, as they approach the huge front desk. “Just the entire time.”
Tony smiles softly at him, and he winks. “You deserve it,” he says, and Peter can tell that he means it. 
They hear crashing, something that sounds expensive hitting the ground somewhere behind them, and they all turn around and see a bunch of employees running around to try and take care of it. A whole big production and two guys trying to hold up a big bear statue that’s trying to fall over.
“Okay, step to,” Happy’s voice says, and Peter hears him before he sees him, and then he breezes by, striding out in front of them. “Let’s go, come on, follow me, let’s get this in the books—”
“Oh, there he is,” Tony says, patting him on the shoulders. “There he is.”
~
Peter and May could never afford a vacation like this. They could never even afford to imagine something like this. Peter feels like they would have charged him if he’d even looked at photos of this place. A big, historic, mountain resort in upstate New York, on the edge of a cliff overlooking a lake? 
But now they’re here. They’re here with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Peter was able to bring two friends. Happy drove them all in a big plush rental van. They’ve got a line of suites on the sixth floor and they had steak and lobster for dinner on their first night. 
It feels unreal. But things feel unreal a lot. Especially things involving Tony, involving Spider-Man. Any of it. Like he’s having a long, prolonged dream before Ben wakes him up for school.
Peter stands on one of the terrace balconies with Tony while the others are arranging activities for tomorrow, and he stares off at the lake and the way the moon hits it. Light rippling on the water. 
“You really think you’re gonna sleep the whole time?” Tony asks, leaning on the railing. “Because nobody would judge you for it. Kayaks can wait. Ballroom dancing can absolutely wait, as can all of May’s Dirty Dancing comparisons, because I can feel them building up, like an aura around her—”
Peter snorts. “No,” he says. “But I probably will mostly just…relax. Take it easy. Just sleeping, no alarms—”
“You deserve it, like I said,” Tony says. “It’s thrilling to me that you’re even giving yourself a break.”
“Look who’s talking,” Peter says, giving him a look. “You were trying to get down to the workshop when your arm was still holding on by one string of muscle.”
Tony’s entire face contorts. “That is a terrible, disgusting image, Mr. Parker—”
Peter snorts again, choking on his laughter. 
Tony knocks him on the arm. “You’re awful, a menace, making fun of an injured old man—”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but it’s true,” Peter says, swatting him back, and still laughing. “You’re the one who needs—needs this. Like Happy always says, I’m a ‘spring chicken’, I—I can bounce back.”
“I had enough bedrest for the next ten years,” Tony says, and he’s giving Peter that look again. Concern. Like he’s trying to read his mind. “You—I know you like to act like it all doesn’t affect you, but you were going through hell on the daily before that purple asshole snapped his fingers. Then there was all that, and the right after that, and the coming back from that, and me wasting away in front of you—and then Quentin Beck flaunting his dickheaded tendencies on your school trip—that was supposed to be your relaxing time and it got away from you too and I just—like I said, you deserve your time. You need it. Don’t—you’re not selling yourself short if you say you need some rest. You put everybody first all the time, yourself last—you deserve to relax, that’s all.”
Peter blows out a breath. He doesn’t even really try to deny it in his head anymore. He doesn’t try to compare himself to other people who have it worse. He’s tired. He’s beat. He feels older than he is. 
Tony clicks his tongue and looks out at the lake. “I know this place is kind of old, kind of dated, rooms kind of look a little bit like grandma was head decorator, but—I, uh—I’ve got fond memories here. Mom used to bring me, when Howard was, uh…in some of his dicier moments. And sometimes we’d just relax, too. Recover from…knowing him.”
Peter is just kind of staring at him, because it always takes him off guard when Tony starts talking about Howard. They’re close enough now that he hears stories about his personal life all the time—his growing up, his insane college years with Rhodey, meeting Pepper meeting Happy and everything in between, but Howard is still…something they don’t really talk about, past flippant comments about Tony striving to be a better father figure than he ever was. 
“Then I’m glad you brought us here,” Peter says, his voice cracking a little bit. “I’m glad you brought me here.” And in his head he hears I’m glad you brought me back. Because he thinks about that all the time. 
Everyone’s back because of you, Peter. He never gave up on bringing you back. It was about saving you.
Tony looks like he’s about to say something else when there’s a bunch of rustling in the trees below them, and a loud thump, and more rustling. They both peer over the railing, and Peter can see the trees moving, but not anything else.
They share a wary look.
“Probably just a skunk,” Tony says.
“Oh, great.”
“Or maybe a band of feral cats.”
“Okay that’s better. Hopefully not too feral. Like, I hope they’re receptive to petting.”
They keep staring down at the trees, but it all seems quiet again.
~
Tony and Pepper have one room, Peter, MJ and Ned have the one in the middle, and May and Happy are on the end in a single room together even though Peter is refusing to acknowledge what that means or what might be going on in there. Tony mentioned that the rooms were dated, but they feel more like what a royal castle might look like inside, and for the longest time Peter is worried about wrinkling up the sheets. And then eventually it’s Ned’s snoring keeping him awake.
And then, when he’s finally mostly asleep—
“Peter.”
MJ’s voice. Peter’s in the bed with Ned and she got the other huge bed all to herself, but she sounds like she’s right next to him. He turns over onto his side, towards her voice, and then she’s—
On the ground right next to his face—
He startles a little bit, and she grabs his hand.
“MJ what—”
“There’s someone in the room.”
She’s whispering, and his heart speeds up a little bit. What the hell? There’s no way.
“Are you sure it’s not Happy?” Peter asks, as Ned lets out a rip of a snore. “Sometimes he likes to do perimeter checks—”
“It’s not Happy!” she whisper-yells.
Peter blinks, and she’s already pulling the sheets off him and yanking him out of bed, and he feels like he’d be more paranoid if something was actually happening, like he’d feel it pulsing and burning in his head, and she’s tugging on him and they’re stumbling over to the wall and—
“MJ—MJ—”
She flips on the light—
And Peter only sees him briefly—a man, standing over by the bathroom, and Peter barely gets to see what he looks like before the lights go out again. 
But he wasn’t Happy he wasn’t Tony he wasn’t supposed to be here, and Peter’s heart rockets into his throat and he hears MJ gasp and he hears feet moving and Ned is still snoring, and Peter rushes towards where the man was and tries to catch him tries to fight, but he only meets open air. 
MJ yanks the door open and she’s already running out into the hallway, yelling Tony’s name, yelling for Peter to follow her. And the hall light is streaming into their room now, and Peter looks around, breathing hard, trying to find the guy—
Nothing. Nothing.
Nobody’s here.
Ned is still snoring.
~
Tony stands next to Peter while the manager shows them the video footage. He watches their doors, completely still and closed from the hallway cameras, and then he watches MJ race out, and Tony and Happy run in a few minutes later. Followed by Pepper and May a few minutes after that. And then Ned finally looming out into the hallway, still half asleep.
“As you can see,” the manager says. “No one entered the room.”
Peter can feel Tony’s anger simmering beside him, and he takes it as a compliment that Tony is all-in on believing that they saw someone, even though he didn’t see him himself.
“Can I get the outside view again?” Tony asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Of course, Mr. Stark.”
They switch to the outside view again, which they’ve already seen about three times. The cameras aren’t great out there, and Happy found out they’re in the process of an upgrade. Peter can see their floor from a distance, he sees a little flash of light that they can’t identify, and then nothing else. No one scaling the building. Not in a way they can see, anyway.
“When will the upgrade be complete?” Tony asks, his tone clipped.
“After your stay, sir, unfortunately.”
Tony huffs, and doesn’t say anything else, and he turns and takes Peter’s arm and leads him to the door. They walk out into the hallway, where MJ and Ned quickly back up.
“Don’t need to listen through the wall,” Tony says.
“Uh, we weren’t,” MJ says. “We were just—”
“Looking at the wallpaper,” Ned says. “It’s—so cool.”
“Uh huh,” Tony says. He moves so they’re in a little circle, and he grips Peter’s shoulder. “Do you want to leave?” he asks, looking around at the three of them. “Because we can leave. We can go somewhere else, figure something else out. Or we can move rooms, we can go down to the Grove Lodge so we can all be closer together—we can do whatever we want.”
Ned’s eyes go wide. “I mean, I didn’t see anything, I was sleeping—”
“It’s fine,” MJ says, fast, glancing at Peter. “I feel like we—Peter and I must have been—I mean, we’re—everything that happened, we’re always thinking about it, and Mysterio was about like—making us think we were seeing things that weren’t there or were there but different—it’s fine. Joint hallucination. Or maybe I made him think he saw something because I was saying I saw something.”
That would normally be a Tony joke cue, but he just looks at her intently. “You don’t have to make excuses,” he says. “I don’t want you guys feeling…unsafe. Despite the presence of, uh—enhanced individuals. Unnamed.”
“It’s okay,” MJ says, and she looks at Peter and nods. 
Tony looks at him too. And Peter knows that if he said anything about being worried, Tony would move them in an instant.
What the hell did he see? 
Were they really just tired?
Did he think he saw something because MJ thought she saw something?
“It’s okay,” he says, slowly, because…he isn’t entirely sure. But MJ seems sure and Peter doesn’t want to blow up the trip if they were just in a PTSD-addled nightmare. It is their first real vacation since that shit with Beck happened, it still feels like a knife in his gut sometimes.
“You sure?” Tony asks, and he shakes Peter’s shoulder a little bit.
Peter looks at MJ, and she nods at him. 
“Yeah,” Peter says. “I’m sure.”
~
They go back to bed after that without any more incidents, but Peter mostly stays awake, staring off into the darkness. MJ is awake too, through a lot of the night, and they text because Ned is sleeping and snoring like there’s nothing wrong and there’s never been anything wrong, ever.
I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.
I wouldn’t let anything happen to you either. Nerd :)
Over breakfast, Tony lets them know that Happy is setting up Friday to do sweeps and is doing his own personal perimeter checks.
“I want him to enjoy his break too though,” Peter says, pushing his waffle around on the plate.
“He’s enjoying it,” May says, through a mouthful of eggs.
Peter frowns at her. “I don’t like that. I don’t—I don’t need—”
She shrugs. “Well.”
“Okay, Miss Kiss and Tell,” Tony says, laughing as Pepper sits down next to him. “But it’s good. He’s on it, and I’m on it too.”
“Here,” MJ says, coming back from the buffet and sitting down next to Peter. She puts a cinnamon bun on his plate, smiling at him. “They just brought them out. Ned is trying to barter for more.”
“They can’t deny him,” Pepper says. “It’s all inclusive.”
“Exactly,” Tony says. “And after last night, we should be getting extra—I still think they sent someone in to check on something and didn’t want to admit it. I’m not gonna go all I’d like to speak to the manager on them, even though I did—do that—but either way—”
Peter hasn’t landed anywhere on it yet. He keeps trying to think back on it, trying to remember exactly what he saw. His spider sense, newly minted, is usually pretty bang on if something isn’t right, if he feels like he’s in danger, but he’d just woken up, he’s foggy in the mornings sometimes—
He figures his mind was just playing tricks on him. But MJ too?
She rubs his leg, like she knows he's agonizing over it, and he reaches down and holds her hand.
“Okay,” Ned says, walking back over holding a plate. “They let me take five of them. They’re all really warm and gooey, I feel like this is a promising start to the day.”
~
Peter isn’t exactly a spa guy, so he doesn’t join May and Pepper when they decide to go there, even though he feels like it might help him if he ever figured out how to relax. But going there is supposed to help him relax, so how can he ever relax enough to get to the point of going there—either way, he goes out onto the lake with Tony and Ned and MJ.
MJ and Peter both get their own kayaks, and Ned and Tony are in a canoe.
“He wouldn’t get into one of these,” Tony yells. “Honestly, if Happy’s not still doing security shit, he’s probably golfing. He’s terrible at it and he never likes to do it when anybody he knows is around. I’ll message him in a little bit and make sure but that’s probably where he is. Ned. You have to keep that thing on just in case we turn over.”
Peter snorts, looking back at them, and he sees Tony adjusting Ned’s lifejacket on his shoulders.
“Happy’s just afraid of racing,” Peter yells, cutting his oar through the water. “MJ remember when—”
“Yes,” she says, a little out ahead of him, and she’s already laughing. “I don’t even know why he was trying to chase you in New York traffic. While you were swinging in the air above him. You didn’t have any cars in your way, nothing was stopping you—”
Peter snorts again, bending over and laughing a little bit. “He was so mad. He didn’t talk to me for a week. He made me talk to Friday specifically.”
“I gave him shit for that!” Tony yells. “He shouldn’t have been trying to chase you. The gas leak had nothing to do with you. He’s always tossing blame around willy nilly.”
“Yeah he still blames me for the time those columns collapsed on that old garbage building,” Ned says. “A line of code can’t do that, that building was old I didn’t do anything there was no way he should have yelled at me at all let alone for twenty minutes—”
“He’s just dramatic,” Tony says.
“He just gets worried,” Peter says, glancing over his shoulder at their boat. And Ned makes big eyes at him, because yeah, uh, they’ve seen why he gets worried. They’ve dealt with why he gets worried. And now, after last night, Peter feels like he’s making himself worried. He needs to stop, they’ve already moved past it, they’re still here, it’s all fine.
“Yeah, I imbued him with a worrying virus that will never be cured,” Tony says. “And now the next generation has to deal with it. Here we are.”
Peter shakes his head, smiling. He’s gotta relax. The sun is shining on the lake bright and beautiful, and May is actually getting a massage for the first time in years and everything is fine. It’s fine. 
He hears Tony chastising Ned again about his life jacket, gently, and Peter starts rowing out and around the outside of the lake. They’re the only ones out here right now, and he wonders how long that’s gonna last. He wonders if that’s something the resort set up, because it’s Tony, because of what happened last night, because Happy’s been intimidating people, and Peter simultaneously appreciates it and balks against the special treatment. But he’s with Tony, he should know it’s gonna happen.
He feels like he’s going a little faster than he should be going based on the way he’s rowing, like he’s really moving along. He glances over at MJ and she’s even further away from him, moving in the direction of the hotel.
“We’re not racing yet!” he yells, and he feels like Happy—constantly worried. But he’s worried about her in a different way and actually starting things with her in Europe made the whole thing worth it in a way, and now they’re together and it’s amazing but he’s just so worried all the time.
And now he’s stopped rowing all together, and he should be slowing down, but he’s still moving. Moving….fast. Maybe even getting faster.
Should that be happening? He doesn’t really kayak. He shifts around a little bit and looks down, and feels a little bit tucked in here. 
“Hey!” Tony yells. “You’re moving like you have a motor on you!”
Peter’s brows furrow, because he is, and he’s not rowing, and he should have lost any propulsion at this point, and he looks up and he sees MJ looking back at him, and she’s not moving anymore, and he glances back and both Tony and Ned look concerned—
And he gets the worst feeling in his chest, like an alarm, like his spidey sense but more warped and panicked, and he tries to get up without toppling over, because the kayak is still moving for no reason, speeding along and it’s going faster and faster. He drops his oar, and balances precariously for a few seconds before he leaps into the water.
Bubbles all around him, and muffled calls of his name—
And he’s only submerged for a couple seconds, because of the life jacket pulling him back to the surface, and he comes up just in time to watch the empty kayak lift up into the air, careening into the forest and disappearing into the trees. 
And he floats there, treading water, staring.
“What the fuck?” Ned yells. “Peter? Peter?”
“Peter!” MJ yells.
“Pete, we’re coming!” Tony yells. “Hold on!”
But Peter is just sort of. Staring. Staring off, at where the kayak disappeared. He stares over there. He stares. 
No thoughts, just. Insane.
“Was that supposed to happen?” Peter asks, his voice squeaking. “Is that—MJ you should probably—you shouldn’t be in there if you’re not, uh, prepared to go—flying—did anybody see it explode? Did it explode? Or did it just shatter, uh, well, wooden—wooden kayak, was it wooden? Or plastic? Either way I bet it’s not a full kayak anymore—”
He feels himself being lifted out of the water, and it’s Tony pulling him into the boat. He doesn’t know how they got here so fast but to be honest a kayak just went full fighter jet on him so he can’t be that confused. 
His shock has him gripped and he just sort of lays there like a rag doll as Tony and Ned pull him up, and he sees MJ rowing over to them. Thankfully, she’s still in her kayak, and it’s not—flying through the air.
“Hey, hey,” Tony says, once Peter isn’t in the water anymore. He’s got both arms around him, and Peter is laying against his chest, and Tony is patting his cheek and trying to peer around and meet his eyes. Ned has his hands on Peter’s knees and he’s just staring at him. 
“I just got a defective one,” Peter says, pointing over at the forest. “It’s okay. It was just—a flying one, we didn’t make sure we didn’t get a flying one. I hope MJ doesn’t have a flying one and it’s just not like. On a time delay I don’t know. MJ, just—hurry over here—” He waves her over. He wants her to hurry up. 
“Peter,” Tony says, and he pats Peter’s chest. “Are you alright? Did you twist anything when you jumped out, can you breathe—”
“Are kayaks supposed to do that?” Peter asks, feeling like he can hear his own voice echoing everywhere. “I didn’t think that was, uh, the case—”
“It’s not the case,” Ned says. “No. It’s not. It’s not the case.”
“Peter.”
MJ finally rolls up alongside them—
“I think you should get out of there,” Peter says, pointing at her. “It’s unsafe—”
“Something is going on,” MJ says, and she’s not looking at Peter. She’s looking at Tony.
~
Tony loves this kid, and this is supposed to be a fucking vacation. Tony loves this kid, and he believed him when he thought someone was in his room, even if the hotel was trying to sway them away from the idea. Tony loves this kid, and he just had to watch him abandon his kayak because said kayak was lifting off and destroying itself somewhere on the property. And kayaks don’t just fucking do that.
Tony stands close to Happy, well into his personal space. He’s got his hands on his hips, like a stern stance is gonna bring him any closer to an answer, and Happy sighs.
“I’ve done ten sweeps,” he says. “There’s nothing going on. There’s nobody here that isn’t supposed to be here. We even looked at the remains of the goddamn kayak and I didn’t find anything wrong with it.”
“There was something wrong with it,” Tony says. “It was flying. It was flying, speed wise, without Pete even rowing, and then it was flying, literally, after he had to abandon ship.”
“I know. It was in a million pieces.”
Tony sighs. They moved down to the Grove Lodge after it happened. Nobody told Pepper and May why, because Peter was insisting on not telling May, and he was also insisting on not leaving even though Tony wanted to leave, because if they left then they were leaving danger behind for the poor unassuming Mohonk guests. And if they leave, danger will probably follow them anyway, and Tony doesn’t know what move to make. 
He’s upset, because this was supposed to be a relaxing break for all of them, but especially for Peter, after everything he’s goddamn gone through. He’s upset because this place felt like his place, his haven, a place where he could get away and be secluded and safe, and now something is pursuing them here. Something is trying to hurt them.
“You haven’t found anything?” Tony presses. “Nothing?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Happy says, and he glances back at the front door of the lodge again. “I’m still looking, I’m not giving up, and I think we should be better located down here because we rented out the whole house and I told them not to come in for room service or cleaning or anything. I know we lose the nice high-up view—”
“It’s fine,” Tony says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s afraid to even be discussing this in public. Anybody could be anywhere listening.
He doesn’t like feeling like he can’t protect these kids. 
“It looks like they’re targeting Peter,” Tony says, as quietly as he can. “And I can’t tell if that’s because of me, that they think—I mean the whole goddamn world thinks he’s my love child at this point, thinks May is my secret mistress or the sister of his secret mother, God knows, I don’t know what the most recent story is. But I can’t tell if they’re targeting him because of me or because of the other thing—”
“And the other thing is worse—the spider thing—”
“I didn’t specify on purpose, Hap,” Tony says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 
“Right, right—the innocuous other thing—”
“We’re lucky we got out of Europe with the other thing intact—”
“Yeah,” Happy says, shaking his head, and Tony wishes he had been there with him, had been there period. He would have torn Beck in half had he laid eyes on him. 
Why do they always target people he loves? Why not him? Blow him up. Kidnap him. But he guesses he’s been there already. He guesses they’ve done all that and it’s old hat to these assholes to go to him directly.
But this could be about Spider-Man too. There could be people that know who he is. People always find out, no matter how hard Tony tries, and Peter has made plenty of his own enemies. His own gallery of rogues looking to take him down.
“Just don’t tell May, if she asks,” Tony says.
“Oh, and don’t tell Pepper either?” Happy asks, in that stupid voice he uses to make fun of Tony. Tony glares, and Happy glares back. “They know by now something’s going on. They’re not dumb. They’re just not saying anything. But May will beat someone to death with anything she can get her hands on and so will Pepper, so maybe we should be sticking close to them.”
Tony sighs. “I just wanted—”
“I know—”
“And now—”
“I know,” Happy says. “We’re on it. We know it’s real, now, even if these people won’t cop to anything. I’m in their walls. Literally. Maybe I’m doing some things I shouldn’t be.”
Tony steps up onto the porch. “Don’t even tell me.”
“I won’t. But maybe I am.”
~
“Ned, why are you in here while I’m in the bathtub?”
“She’s in here!”
“I’m dating her.”
“Wow, that’s great,” Ned says, not making any move to get up from his spot on the gold lounge chair. “That’s great, I see how things are going. I see what direction we’re heading in.”
Peter scoffs. He warmed up a long time ago, and he’s getting really pruny, but he doesn’t want to get out just yet. He feels like something is gonna happen if he gets out. Like it’s all gonna start up again and maybe the house is gonna explode or their fridge is gonna grow arms and start trying to fight them or something. 
And he isn’t lazy. He’s always ready to fight.
Maybe he’s a little lazy. But not usually. He thought Europe was gonna be a Spider-Man free trip and look how that turned out. And he thought this was going to be calm and relaxing but now it’s become suspicious. And worrying. And he’s torn between leaving and staying and telling May and not telling May and he doesn’t know if she’s in danger too and sometimes he feels like everybody would be safer if he lived out in Alaska somewhere and nobody knew him.
Peter sighs, and MJ rubs his shoulder. Ned is still giving him that look and Peter ignores that look. He’s never been in a little claw-foot tub like this before. Tony doesn’t even have these in the compound. And a bubble bath? He hasn’t had a bubble bath since he was a kid and Ben was still alive. It almost distracts him from… whatever the hell is going on here.
“We’ve got two more days,” MJ says. “And we’re sticking it out.”
“We’re sticking it out,” Peter says. “I got my webshooters, I guess I’ll wear them if we go hiking tomorrow.”
“Someone is gonna push you off a cliff,” Ned says, raising his eyebrows. 
“We’re all going together, so nobody is gonna push anybody,” MJ says. She leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Okay let’s leave so he can—get out.”
They both get up, and Peter watches as they argue.
“Oh, you’re not gonna help him?” Ned asks.
“Oh, you’re not?” MJ replies, nudging him as they move towards the door. “I thought that was your job, guy in the chair—”
~
They have dinner in the main building, and Peter watches his back. He only jumps once, when someone drops a tray full of plates, and he winces at the shattering and runs over there to help clean it up before they usher him away. They visit the horses in the stables, and Peter checks every nook and cranny to make sure somebody isn’t hiding in there. They watch May and Happy bust into the late jazz class that’s going on in the ballroom and Peter forgets to do anything because he feels like his face is going to catch on fire from all the blushing.
And he remembers to be paranoid when they get back to the Grove Lodge, and he can tell May is suspicious and they’re all watching him like hawks and he gets worried that Tony is the real target of whatever is happening here and he’s just a distraction. 
He can’t let anything happen to Tony. He can’t let anything happen to any of them.
Or maybe nothing is happening. And nobody was in their room. And the kayak was just—Parker luck. Too much strength, or something. 
He wakes up around three in the morning because he can’t stay asleep, and he sits down in the ‘great room’ and stares out into the darkness of the night. 
“Don’t jump,” Tony’s voice says, but Peter jumps anyway, twisting around and seeing him on the stairs. “You jumped! I said don’t jump! You heard me, I said it—”
Peter snorts, shaking his head. “You can’t just tell me not to jump and expect me not to jump—especially if you’re stepping out of the shadows—”
“There’s no shadows,” Tony says, stepping off the landing. “No shadows. I’m fully illuminated—”
Peter sighs. “You can’t sleep either?”
“Nah,” Tony says, walking over quietly. “Sleep and I, we have a very contemptuous relationship.” He shakes his head. “I just feel like shit because you can’t have a normal vacation. Whatever the hell is or isn’t going on here. You just deserve—Jesus, a full day, at the least, without something happening you have to question.” He sits down next to Peter and lets out a sigh.
“It’s not your fault. At all.”
“I mean—it might be. We’ve seen Europe as an example of very much my fault.”
Peter narrows his eyes at him. “That wasn’t your fault either. You know it wasn’t your fault, idiots blaming you for their own stupidity is not your fault—”
A huge crash outside. It sounds like one of those big weird planters falling over and knocking into the other planters and then it sounds like a bunch of feet shuffling and this isn’t Parker luck, this isn’t a hallucination, this isn’t a kayak doing non-kayak like things—
They both leap out of their chairs. The noises don’t stop and Tony is immediately stepping in front of Peter and holding his arm out, as if to shield him.
“Kid, go back upstairs—”
“No,” Peter whisper-shouts, grabbing his arm as the two of them move forward very, very slowly towards the back porch doors. “You almost died recently—you’re wearing pajamas and a house coat—”
“You don’t even know what a house coat is—”
Another crash, more skittering feet, and Peter focuses—he can hear separate heartbeats from the hearts he loves in this house. Two of them.
“Tony I’ve got my webshooters on—”
“That doesn’t matter you’re wearing pajamas too you’re not prepared—”
And when they’re just close enough to open the door, there’s a flash of bright white light. And Peter closes his eyes against it, and he can feel Tony turning around, trying to block him from it, and it must be more than just light because he hears a loud bang and the windows are shattering and it feels like a cataclysmic boom is pushing them through the air. The two of them fly backwards, and hit the far wall, and the last thing Peter hears before his head snaps back too far is 
GOD DAMMIT ALFIE YOU’RE TWO SECONDS TOO EARLY WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS JUMPING THE—
~
Peter gasps awake. His gasp echoes, and he sits up, and looks around, and he’s…nowhere.
He scrambles to his feet. He’s alone, and he’s nowhere, there’s nothing but blackness and his ears are popping like he’s high up and he sees—
He sees—
A kayak? Flying through the darkness? 
He watches it, cascading like a majestic bird, and he stares at it, and then it just—blinks out of existence. Like it was never even there.
Maybe he’s just dreaming. Maybe he never even woke up and went downstairs and talked to Tony. Maybe none of that happened at all. Maybe he’s still asleep and Ned is snoring somewhere and MJ is saying not beets in the salad in her sleep again and maybe—
God dammit, Alfie, I swear. I swear I’m gonna whack you in the head.
Peter spins around, in the complete darkness. He can see himself, his own body and his hands and his pajamas and his webshooters, like he’s got a spotlight on him. “Hello?” he calls. “What the hell is—whoever that is—”
And then the London Bridge appears huge and massive above his head and he starts to duck, nearly collapsing in on himself, and there’s no way this is actually happening this isn’t real and he shoots a web at it and it goes right through it and it hits—somewhere—somewhere in the darkness, it sticks, it—
ALFIE I THINK THEY’RE BOTH—
I KNOW IT I CAN TELL OKAY I’M NOT MORONIC—
It clicks in Peter’s head. This is someone using Beck’s tech. It’s someone using Beck’s tech. That’s what this is. This is some idiots using his tech and not knowing how to use it properly and—
Peter starts yelling. “Whoever you are, you’re—you’re not good at this—this isn’t gonna work out for you—”
The bridge disappears, and Peter starts running. His spidey sense is going berserk, and he can’t tell where the danger is, what direction, how far. He can’t tell what’s underneath his feet, it feels—crunchy, and a little old, maybe? All he knows is he needs to get the hell out of this illusion. It feels unstable.
He starts shooting his webs everywhere, and most of them fly away without hitting anything, and that makes him wonder where the hell he could be with so much space—
STARK IS DOING SOMETHING WITH HIS AI—
Peter’s heart lurches.
“Tony!” Peter yells, still running, and he holds his hands out and tries to find something, anything, and he shoots webs fucking everywhere, and then—
SHIT—
He runs right into someone. And they push him off, and then he gets a brass-knuckled fist to the face before he can get a hit off of his own. He stumbles backwards through the sharp pain, wrestling with the instinct to just fight even though it’s only darkness all around him and he can’t see who the hell he’s fighting with. 
Instead, he spits out a line of blood and keeps running.
Pulsing, face pulsing, beating with ripped skin and metal—
A massive kayak blips into the air briefly, and then it disappears.
Peter narrows his eyes, shaking his head, and what the hell is with the kayak—
He runs smack into something, like a train going accordion against a wall, and he stumbles backwards again, clutching at his crushed nose and trying to stay on his feet. The punch and the goddamn running into whatever that was has him dizzy, has him mangled and seeing stars in this manufactured darkness and then he hears Tony hollering his name at the top of his lungs—
“Peter! Peter!”
He sounds like he’s behind him—
“Tony!” Peter yells, all nasally. “Tony! Hey I’m over here—”
He turns around, changing his trajectory. And the darkness blips, breaking in large pixels, and Peter keeps running towards Tony’s voice and the darkness blips again, turns bright white, and then—
The illusion, or lack of one, breaks all at once, and Peter can see—
He’s on the roof of the main Mohonk building—he can see the lake, and the forest, and the mountains, settled in the calm of the night that feels decidedly not calm for him in particular, and he skids to a halt because he’s nearly running off the roof—
And he feels someone grab his arm and tug him back, and he spins around and it’s Tony, thank God it’s Tony—
“Hey!” Tony yells, and Peter looks at him and grabs his arm and they both look up and—
There are just two guys standing there. Two guys, both on the shorter side, definitely unkempt, and they’re holding a little gray box and they’re both just hitting it and hitting it and hitting it—
Peter aims his webs and just starts shooting. He feels like he shoots the most amount of webs he’s ever shot. The two guys fly backwards and get stuck to one of the upraised red parts of the roof, and they’re both gritting their teeth and trying to get out like they’re Scooby Doo villains.
“They must be associated with Beck,” Peter says, trying to catch his breath. His entire mouth tastes like blood. “They’ve gotta be.”
“I figured, with their shitty illusion attempts,” Tony says, and he sounds angrier than Peter’s ever heard him. He glances at Peter, starts to glance away, but then he looks at him again, fast, his brows furrowing severely. “Jesus Christ, you’re—bleeding everywhere—”
“Yeah, it feels—it doesn’t feel good—they didn’t hit you?” Peter asks.
Tony takes Peter’s chin gently, tilting his head and wincing. “No,” he says. “They didn’t goddamn hit me—”
“Well, the nose was from—running into something—I think that, uh, I think that’s a chimney over there, I think I ran into it—you didn’t run into anything—”
“No, I didn’t—”
“Oh, that’s great—”
Tony looks like he’s about to breathe fire, and he lets go of Peter and starts stomping towards the webbed bad guys.
“Why the hell would you be loyal to a moron like him?” Tony asks. “Beck? He couldn’t even keep a job at Stark Industries—”
“Yeah, buddy, because you stole his idea,” one of them hollers. They’re both still wiggling around, trying to get out.
Tony sneers. “He worked for my company executing an idea I designed and commissioned and decided to weaponize it when it was created to help deal with trauma and mental health—have you never had a job, an occupation—you know what, I don’t care, I don’t care—”
“Well he didn’t say that, he didn’t say any of that exactly,” the other guy says, the one with the longer hair. “He just said—”
“Nothing he says is true,” Peter yells, wincing when he touches his nose. “That guy is a liar, and a freak, and you believed him enough to follow us on vacation and—screw up every attempt you made to kill us—it was one of you guys in my room—”
“No, that was just testin’, that was just—we was just testin’, it was—you guys acted really dramatic—”
Peter scoffs. “Dramatic?”
And the two guys start giving each other nasty looks, even though they’re webbed shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe if you hadn’t dropped that dart gun in the lobby when they first got here—”
“Maybe if you hadn’t fallen out of the tree—”
“Maybe if you had made the goddamn kayak explode instead of fly—”
“Stop!” Tony yells, cutting his hands through the air like an angry teacher. “Stop. Stop. I’ve never wanted to hear Boston accents less. Stop. You’re arrested. We’ve arrested you.”
“You can’t do that, the Avengers aren’t cops,” the shorter one says. He’s got a tattoo on his neck that says GOLDBARES with a Haribo bear icon and Peter squints at it and he feels like his entire face hurts worse just from seeing it.
“You’ve committed several crimes,” Tony says, still pointing at them. “It’s—my personal security already—”
There’s a click. A very loud click. And both guys clam up real quick.
“What was that?” Tony asks.
Peter’s spidey sense is—ratcheting up, clear into his teeth—
“Tony!” he yells, because it feels like something is coming, and, just like in the Grove Lodge, there’s a big boom and they’re blown backwards by a seismic wave—
And they’re launched off the roof, and it feels like they’re moving in slow motion, through the dead dark of the night and the reflection of the lake, and Peter screams like a moron. He just screams, and then he shoots a web right at Tony and pulls him in with it, and then he shoots a web at the building and swings back around with him. 
They don’t land well, because Peter’s brain is on the backburner and there’s nothing on the front, and they roll in a heap, Peter tucking his face into Tony’s shoulder. When they come to a halt Tony pulls back, sitting up and touching Peter’s cheek.
“You in there?”
“I’m in there. Here,” Peter says, and he feels like he’s bleeding worse, somehow. “Did they blow up? Did those guys blow up? It sounded like they blew up.”
“We didn’t blew up we’re still over here but maybe I wish we woulda blew up because—”
And they start shouting at each other, but Peter tries to tune them out.
“Thank God you brought those things,” Tony says, tapping Peter’s wrist. “Thanks, bud.”
Peter blows out a breath, shaking his head and still just. Laying there. “Oh yeah, no problem. All good, just—completely normal.”
Tony sighs, and his eyes cut to the side. “Any other late traps ready to explode?” he yells, over his shoulder.
They stop arguing with each other. There’s a brief silence. 
“Uh. I honestly got no idea. We just brought the whole bag of tricks, I don’t know. There’s shit everywhere.”
Tony looks at Peter, slowly shaking his head.
“Fantastic,” Peter says. “Wonderful.”
~
“So, you weren’t in there watching us when we were getting our nails done in the spa?” Pepper asks. “I thought it was weird. I told May it was weird. That was these guys—”
Tony scoffs, and he feels like he instantly gets a headache, a migraine—
“Of course I wasn’t—of course—you thought I was just standing there? Staring at you in the spa? You didn’t think that was out of the ordinary—”
Pepper gives him a look, and Peter laughs from the hammock behind them.
“Yeah, when I went to get my nails done later you kept walking in and out,” Happy says. “But I thought you were just—I don’t know what I thought. But then you told me about the kayak thing later and I thought—well—I attributed it to that.”
“Happy went and got his nails done,” Ned whispers, somewhere behind Tony, too. “We could do that?”
“Who’s stopping you?” MJ says, quiet.
“Well, the whole—the whole situation stopped me, I guess, but I didn’t really think about it—”
“I’m glad it wasn’t you staring at us,” May says, standing near the railing and peering out into her binoculars. “Pepper said it was normal, but it was concerning me.”
Tony glares at Pepper, but she just bats her eyes at him like the picture of innocence.
“Sometimes Peter does that to me,” May says. “Just stares at me from behind a Lucky Charms box in the kitchen. That’s how I know something’s wrong.”
Tony snorts, and he turns around as soon as Peter starts protesting.
“I do not!” Peter says, shifting around in the hammock. “I do not do that.”
“It sounds like something you’d do,” Ned says.
“You’ve done that to me,” MJ says, clearing her throat.
Peter huffs, and everyone laughs at him, and Tony tries not to laugh too hard, because this started with his own wife acting like she thinks he’s capable of acting like some weirdo who stands around staring at people.
Tony sighs. He turns around, walking over and peering down at Peter. He braces his hand on the tree his hammock is attached to. “How’s the nose?” Tony asks.
“Broken.”
“It’s not broken anymore, we reset it.”
“It knows it was broken. I know too.”
He’s still got the butterfly bandages on the bridge of his nose, and it’s bruised and angry looking. He’s got a burst blood vessel in his eye, and the white part is dipped with red. Tony feels like shit because he got out of the whole ordeal relatively unscathed. Just a few bumps and bruises. Some whiplash. But Peter broke his nose again.
They hiked up to the Sky Top Tower, and the kids wanted to hang out once they got up here. They all thought Peter had earned the hammock. Happy refused to come, and he’s in charge of the security situation, anyway, so he couldn’t exactly abandon it to do a hike he didn’t want to do. 
They had to clear the whole damn resort out to get rid of any remaining traps and illusions. Tony had to bring in a whole team. Rhodey made fun of him on the phone when Tony told him, laughing for a good five minutes.
And sure, it’s stupid. Those guys are stupid and they had no idea what the hell they were doing, they couldn’t even attack properly. But that’s what happens when stupid people follow more powerful stupid people. They hold grudges. They make up shit in their heads. They cause problems.
And it’s never really funny when Peter is bloody at the end of it.
“I feel like I’m sinking,” Peter says, his brows furrowing.
He reaches out his hand, and Tony takes it, and he pulls him out of the hammock as MJ and Ned push on his shoulders. Peter groans like he’s a hundred years old, and Tony claps him on the shoulder.
May looks away from her binoculars. “How you doing, honeybunch?”
“Fine,” Peter says, letting go of Tony’s hand. “Incredible. Amazing.”
“Just a normal day for a hero,” Pepper says. “MJ, you’ll get used to it, May, you’ll never get used to it—”
“And Ned,” Ned says to himself. “You will be there every step of the way.”
Tony looks at Peter, and he wants to apologize. For all of it, for being a hero at all, for the goddamn radioactive spider at Oscorp and everything that came after. For stupid morons like Quentin Beck, who know the quickest way to hurt Tony is to attack this kid he’s nearly adopted as his own.
He doesn’t know what the hell to say, because Peter wouldn’t accept his apologies anyway. He never would. Peter is just appreciative of every moment. Even if the moments aren’t ideal.
“We’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” Tony says. “How about we have a pie bar when we head back down there? I can tip the kitchen staff two hundred percent when I ask. I don’t think anybody would be pissed off.”
He sees May smiling softly at him over Peter’s shoulder. Trust in her eyes, even after all this bullshit.
“Can there be…at least four key limes?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Four or five,” Tony says, ruffling his hair. “Or six or seven. Depending on the number of ovens in the joint.”
Peter grins at him, still bright and lively, despite everything.
Maybe they can salvage this vacation yet.
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tremendouscreationperson · 2 months ago
Text
This covers like 6-8 months so if it's too quick it's cuz it's snippets
Also be careful cuz there's a scene where the reader almost gets assaulted
The Ghoul's eyes scanned the room he had been placed in. Finally after a long journey he was rid of the thorn in his side. He was able to collect his bounty, he would be the richest mother fucker he knew.
As always it started with a Vault. A Vault whose leader ventured out and met a bounty post. The postee took all the information down and was quick to inform everyone they could and then four years later the Ghoul found himself entangled with you.
You were hustling pool at a two bit bar when he glanced at you - he hadn't even registered who you were. The memory scrappy and faded in his riddled mind but as luck would have it he had forced the postee to hand the sketch over.
Your nose was slightly crooked, it had obviously been broken, and your eyes were tired but you were the same girl.
It didn't take long to introduce himself, beat you and convince you to come outside. He hadn't had this much game in a while. How did a Vault Dweller like you flirt with a fella like him?
Fast forward to him tying you up and having to be infuriatingly nice to you because the job was specific that no harm should come to you. There would be a Cap Penalty if you were damaged. Which got him thinking, how did a goddamn Vault get Caps? They must've been selling supplies.
He tried not to think too hard on it, not when you were actively trying to commit suicide.
"Please, sir." Your voice was gravelly with lack of water, you'd spat each mouthful he forced down you at him. "Don't do this. Just kill me."
The Ghoul wasn't one for niceties, he hadn't been for years but seeing you like this made him consider it. Made him want to ease your brow, have you trust him enough to drink from his bottle, prove himself to you.
"I'll do anything, be anything." Your calloused hands reached out, grazing his arm. The Ghoul tightened his grip on your reigns, your hands were far too close to the gun belt slung across his waist. "Please."
His eyes flashed between yours, there was a genuine promise behind them. You were scared. He was the cause of your fear. Usually that was a turn on. "C'mon, princess." He dragged you behind him.
The two of you wandered the wasteland, him usually hauling your sorry ass (physically over his shoulder or with the lasso), there was a stiff silence between you.
You probably felt ashamed for your offer, he probably felt stupid for not accepting it. Either way you went from place to place as he tried to find the Vault. It had been years since he got the vague information and there were hundreds of Vaults hidden.
Eventually you began to sleep around him rather than just pretend. His own sleep schedule was near non-existent these days so it was a blessing that you had started. However that begged the question: were you trying to trick him? So every night he tied you tighter and placed his metal bottle along with a metal cup he had stolen on the lasso. If you move he would hear it, some nights you tossed and turned and you woke him unintentionally.
Those nights were... odd.
Maybe it was because you reminded him of a time long lost - your classic beauty made for the silver screen - or maybe he was just in need of a good fuck. But he felt strangely uneasy when you twitched and whimpered as dreams haunted your mind.
Entering the next town had been a mistake. Of course it had, he had known it as soon as he saw the first look you received.
The townsfolk were freakish looking people - milky eyes and scraggly hair - and they salivated at the sight of you.
The Ghoul barely got the two of you out of there alive, breaking the last of his RadAway. A fact he only realised as you two nestled into an abandoned home. One with walls and everything!
"Shit!" He peeled the bag from his side, broken glass embedded into his leathery skin.
You watched him toss the bag to the side and pluck at the shards. He swore again kicked at the sand beneath his feet.
"How fucked are we?" Your voice pulled him from his anger. You had smoothed the mess of your hair and placed your jacket on the ground as a pillow, staring up at him on bent knees.
The Ghoul didn't want to tell you. You could use this as leverage. If he divulged and you betrayed him he wouldn't forgive himself. This was rule 101. Don't trust the bounty! "We'll make a detour. We're fine."
You scrunched your face but didn't answer back. He had saved you today and yeah it was for the reward on your head but you did appreciate not being murdered or raped or some other horrid third option.
He was not his best the next few days. You were scavenging for RadAway in the few houses you passed but came up empty and he was coughing an awful lot.
"Look, we need to go back." You proposed the idea, with less confidence than you spoke it.
The Ghoul grunted.
"There wa-" He had stooped to your level, interrupting you with his movements, his forehead inches from yours as his eyes bore into your very soul. "Was a pharmacy in that town. I'm not trying to- if you're in pain I'll help."
He stayed there, breathing in your air, for longer than what was comfortable and straightened. "We ain't going back. We'll keep heading East." He took a step back and waited.
You weren't quite sure what he was waiting for.
"C'mon, fleshbag move it." He tugged your elbow and thrust you ahead of him.
The RadAway issue was sorted. You'd hit the jackpot. It meant killing a bunch of people but that hadn't previously bothered the two of you.
The Ghoul has lost sight of you during the fight only to be pleasantly surprised when you rocked up next to him with a case in your hand.
He was only thankful that he didn't have to chase you down.
And so once more into the breach.
Your hands were no longer bound, merely adorned in the finest lasso belt. He didn't want you to get too cocky so was a little harsher with his words every now and then.
But you eagerly divided your scavenged goods and food without hesitation. You were actually eating and drinking enough to function and he was able to relax slightly around you because you wouldn't drop dread. He didn't have to monitor your intake.
Things had changed fully from your first meeting when the second bounty was caught. You'd noticed the papers in the Ghouls jacket as you beat the thing dry. They were tattered and the pencil was so faded but they were bounty posters.
"Wha'd'ya doin'?" He scowled over your shoulder.
"Looking." You waved the posters. "It must be an interesting job."
He huffed in response but didn't take the paper from you as he yanked the coat on.
The man was short and stout but had the ego of someone tall and muscular. He endlessly flirted with you and made cruel remarks to your captor.
The Ghoul was ready to set him free - just be rid, with him free he wouldn't have to drag anyone around! The fucking poster said alive so he couldn't just kill the dickhead, if it go any worse he'd start cutting off fingers - but you were... Happy? Excited? It was an emotion he hadn't felt for a while so it was hard to recognise but you stood and took whatever the man said in order to hand him over.
"Where do we take him?" You asked at the Ghouls right. The lasso was no longer attached to you but to your new 'friend'.
"He's wanted West from here, eight days walk."
And so you did.
You walked and walked and walked.
And it was taxing.
So on the sixth night when you noticed the Ghoul's eyes drooping, and you couldn't recall the last time either of you had properly slept, you tugged the lasso out of his hands.
"Two hours." Was all you said.
He understood.
He hated that he understood.
Fuck, why did he understand?!
And why did it feel good to be understood?
He slept and you kept watch. Nothing happened. No one said anything. It was as simple as that.
The next night carried on in the same fashion. You took the lasso and bid him goodnight.
Only for the Ghoul to wake up to muffled noises.
His eyes flashed open and he couldn't see you. The Ghoul scanned the area until his tired eyes made out a vague silhouette.
He jumped into action, hand immediately grabbing a nonexistent gun. Shit, where was his- No time to think. He flung himself at the man.
There was a scuffle and the Ghoul managed to smash the butt of the stolen pistol into his head, knocking the assailant out cold.
You were laying on the sand with your hands covering your face, vest top torn and the flies of your jeans broken.
The silence was screaming. It was shouting right into his ear canal, right in front of his eyes, it was in his skin.
But he didn't dare break it.
What could he - your captor - say to make you feel better?
Finally your hands fell to your sides and you spoke to the sky. "He needed the toilet."
Cooper didn't know what to say. He really didn't.
"You were kind to me." Your voice was small. "You allowed me that luxury."
Because I can fight you.
Cooper sighed, dropping his head. He then bound the man as tight as he could, wrapping the lasso multiple times around his torso, shoulders, chest and hands before he stood, waiting.
You understood his gesture. Neither of you could sleep now anyways.
In the morning the harsh glow of the sun revealed the bruising on your face and arms.
As soon as he got the reward he dragged you into the remnants of a clothing shop and watched your face stay blank.
It had been blank all morning, all afternoon. It was eerie. You weren't ever this void. When you had fought him, you'd been passionate in your defiance. When you shared food you gave him a mock-scared expression, making him eat first - making him actually consume the food - and you smiled an awful lot for a bounty. How had he only realised that?
"That's nice." He attempted, pointing at an insanely faded white shirt.
"There's no point wasting your Caps." You finally brought your eyes to him, after a whole day of avoidance. "Let's just get to the Vault."
Cooper frowned. This wasn't you. What had happened? Had he been too late? "No, we're getting you clothes."
You didn't have the strength to roll your eyes.
"Want to tell m-"
"Nothing happened." You folded your arms. "I dunno why I'm so messed up."
"There's a bar over the road."
You shook your head. "There's no point, let's ju-" Your words violently halted when his fingers found your arm. He was delicate and you allowed the movement so he proceeded to bring you in close.
To...
To...
He...
Well, he hugged you.
He pulled you into a sweet embrace and you melted into the man, tears creeping down your cheeks.
The Ghoul would never bring this up ever. He couldn't. Why was he hugging you?!
But he knew you needed it.
The two of you did get that drink after you picked up some undamaged clothes.
So Cooper did something batshit: he stroked your spine.
There was a shift in the dynamic now; you stood closer to him and he hovered for you. It was nothing obscene but he noticed it.
And he was beginning to think you were gorgeous. The new clothes fit you better than their predecessors. Your jeans tugging at your thighs and ass as your shirt clung to your chest but was loose by your stomach causing it to blow in the breeze. Making you reveal your sweet sweet flesh.
It was as though he was turning feral. He felt hot - hotter than usual - and needy.
He definitely needed a good fuck.
And he didn't like to admit it but you were his favourite option.
He was toying with the thoughts when you literally stumbled across the Vault.
It was here.
Your bounty.
You were here.
Months of walking and slowly warming to each other.
It had taken months. A year perhaps?
But you were here.
"The code is 5829." You spoke.
He observed you. There were no outward signs of distress but he knew you better than that. You wanted to run. Wanted to hide. In fact, you were hiding your face from him.
"Let's get this over with."
Cooper didn't want to.
He really didn't.
"Let's go." He offered. "I don't need the Caps."
Your face was vulnerable. "You'd be set for life."
"No, I wou-"
"I saw my poster."
You were correct, of course, he would be set for life. He would be able to roam because he wanted to, not because he needed to. He could devote his whole being into finding Barb. The whole reason he was obsessed with bringing you back was in case this was her Vault. "I don't need the Caps."
The two of you stood on the threshold in a confused trance before you took a step back.
And that movement caused the one thing you were now trying to avoid to happen.
The door unlocked and identical men surround you.
"Y/N!" A smarmy man clapped his hands.
It had been so long, Cooper had forgotten your name - foregoing it with terms like 'princess', 'fleshbag' and 'doll' - he hadn't even considered giving you his and now it was too late.
He wanted you to know him.
He wanted you.
"Priestley." You gave a curt nod.
"Oh, and who's this creature?" Priestley eyed Cooper.
Cooper wanted to say a few choice words but you didn't let him. "This is the Ghoul that captured me, give him the bounty or I'm not coming."
Priestley giggled. "'not coming', you don't exactly have a choice." Two men clasped your arms and secured you. "I don't have the Caps here, they're downstairs. Feel free to unholster your weapon as you follow me. I have no use for fucking bottle Caps so I won't fight you."
Cooper was panicking.
He knew that it was best to play along.
But he hadn't thought about you actually being taken as a bounty. He hadn't known it would cause this pain.
You were willingly led behind the man into a lift and Cooper had to speed up to make it before the thing began it's descent.
Priestley hopped off the lift and snaked his way through the identical tunnels. The air was too still here, too pure.
He then snapped his fingers and you were being dragged to the right.
"Not you, I'm afraid sir." He ceased Coopers movements with a skittish palm.
This was it.
You were being taken.
"Wait!" You begged. "Please, jus-one moment!"
Priestley let an exaggerated sigh out but snapped and the men stopped.
You turned the best you could, meeting Coopers gaze. "Thank you for... I don't know. Your company? Goodbye."
The words could have easily been read as sarcastic and cruel but he knew you were sincere. You were really thanking him for his time. Thanking him for being kind when he really shouldn't have been.
And so here he found himself scanning the room he was sitting in whilst Priestley produced the Caps.
"What'll happen to her?" Coop asked, ignoring the offered treasure.
Priestley's brows rose to his hairline. "Oh, you don't know. This will be exciting to explain. We are a cloning Vault at heart and speaking of hearts... That little ticker is meant for Brianette. I can't believe Y/N could steal Vault Tec property like that! She knew she was a stand in. Knew she was made to be the spare, we took her womb and a kidney not long befo-I don't know why she would run away. It's a glorious privilege to serve her."
"Excuse me?" Cooper drawled. "You're going to dissect her?"
"No, of course not." He gave Cooper an insulted glare. "That would imply she was dead."
The bullet left Coopers gun before his brain processed the movement. He had not registered pulling the trigger.
Where were you?
He needed to find you.
Cooper sprinted through the corridor and back towards where you parted ways but the corridors all looked the same and what was left was now right so he was getting himself all sorts of lost.
Cooper's chest heaved with dread exhaust as he ran down another corridor. He needed to find you.
Where the fuck were you?!
Cooper eventually found a set of doors which he couldn't access.
He must be getting close, right?
The Ghoul blasted the mechanics with his gun and the door stuttered open, just wide enough to to slip past.
Cooper kept on desperate to find you. He needed to find you!
There were identical men guarding one door when he bounced down the corridor. Bingo.
Coop made quick work with them before he pounded at the door, shooting it relentlessly.
That door unlocked and opened a fraction. Cooper had to yank at the metal and eventually it was suitable for him to squeeze his body through.
And there you were.
Laying naked in a pod, water was filling it and you were chained to the bottom. This must be a decontamination chamber.
Cooper stomped up to the pod and thrust the door open before the water rose to your nose.
You coughed as the water burst, drenching him as the door broke. "Ghoul?" The word was dazed.
"I'm here. We're leaving." He promised.
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tirsynni · 1 year ago
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If we're asking about BotW/TotK ships, any thoughts on Revalink? Asking mostly just because it has been living in my head rent-free for months and I constantly desire more people to talk about it.
Anonymous asked:
Sorry for asking about your opinion on Revalink without even checking to see that you had already written Revalink fics, feel free to ignore previous ask
Oh, honey. I am always happy to talk about Revalink. They are absolutely my BotW/TotK OTP. I also adore Revali and I hungrily devoured even the slightest mention of him in TotK and have multiple WIPs scribbled on my laptop finding out ways to have him actually in TotK.
(Do I still feel a little cheated? Maybe. I wasn't expecting much, but ow, TotK.)
This ship has an insane amount of potential, especially since we have so few of Link's memories available in BotW. Maybe it was always just brutal tension between two fucked up young Champions with far too much weight on their shoulders (with most of it being self-imposed!). Maybe they quietly figured out something, just for Link to forget or maybe he didn't even forget but it didn't matter because the Link of then and the Link of now are so different. Ack! So much potential!
...but anyway.
Pre-Calamity, these two had so much weight dragging them down and not a single positive communication skill in sight. Link was buried under the title of Champion and Hero to the point he could barely see the sky anymore. Revali pushed and pushed and pushed himself to the point of collapse. He was absolutely driven and stubborn and passionate and snarky and desperate for validation. Link was silently begging for everyone to not look at him and Revali was silently begging for someone to fucking see him.
Specifically, he wanted Link to see him.
That's what absolutely kills me about that pairing. We don't know what Link saw or thought. We got everyone's journal but his. Hell, even his memories seemed like they were from an outsider's perspective (especially the last one). But we got Revali's journal and we got to hear Revali speak (and snark and yell) and so it baffles me when people paint him as an asshole who hated Link.
Doubtlessly, Revali would have pushed himself forever without external validation, but it didn't change the fact that he was thirsty for it. Where do we see it most? In his interactions with Link. In his journal talking about Link. It was a constant chant of "See me, see me." Link was strong and skilled and we saw in his limited memories that he pushed himself, too. While Zelda quietly mused in a safe, dry spot, Link stood in the rain and continued to practice with his sword. He threw himself at hordes of monsters and Zelda scolded him for being reckless. For their own reasons, Revali and Link actively pushed themselves arguably long after almost anyone else would have stopped, and I think Revali saw that in Link -- saw a possible peer who valued hard work and sweat and determination -- and desperately wanted Link to see him, too.
When they reunited one hundred years later, for all of Revali's snark about Link making him wait, nothing can convince me that Revali wasn't happy to see him again. We won't know what happened in those final days before the Calamity or what Revali knew about Link during those hundred years, but the fact that Revali specifically told Link to avenge him will forever be telling to me. Revali -- fiercely independent, determined Revali -- recognized that he couldn't avenge his own death. He also didn't expect the fight to be impersonal for Link, for it to be another thing for Link to check off in his quest. He didn't want Link to kill the Blight on his behalf: he wanted Link to do what he couldn't, he wanted Link to treat the fight as something personal, he wanted Link to fight in Revali's name. He wanted Link to avenge him.
(And in return, he gave Link wings and personally lifted him into the sky. <3 With an adorable little flourish.)
I also love the dialogue choices during the fight, and they are part of my argument for why Revali isn't hateful: he's snappy and snarky and is absolutely the guy who shows he cares about by calling his love interest an idiot for failing to appropriately care for himself. He spends that entire fight scolding Link and cheering Link on and snarking at Link and fretting over Link, depending on how the fight goes. He gets so worried for Link. Not because Revali won't be avenged but because Link is hurt and he checks to see if he is okay. ;_;
On Link's half? If Revali is the bird who is desperate to fly as high as he can, Link is absolutely the trapped, muzzled songbird. There's one scene where the king is scolding Zelda and Link is kneeling beside Zelda, absolutely forgotten by both of them. He's pretty much part of the scenery in that memory. His head is bowed. His face is expressionless. He's disregarded butterly as the king berates Zelda and Zelda focuses on vainly defending herself. That exemplifies so much of his backstory: he's the silent Knight. He's the Wielder of Evil's Bane. He's the guy who effortlessly claimed his destiny by pulling the Master Sword while Zelda struggled fruitlessly to call upon her sacred powers. I would argue (and this isn't a slight against Zelda, who is clearly a traumatized, overburdened, and royal teenager in all of these memories) that when Zelda finally sees Link as an actual person and not just another symbol of her failure, she still struggles to see him as a true individual and not another way for her to deal with and understand her own problems. For most of the characters in those memories, Link is characterized by his role and his duty, not as an actual overburdened teenager himself.
Except Revali, who never shows any indication that he gives a damn about titles and destiny and all of that bullshit, sees Link and wants Link to see him. Revali wants a response. Revali wants Link.
I've also written briefly about this before, but in regards to symbolism, Revali is also the closest in-game parallel to things normally associated with the Heroes of Courage. Courage is Farore green, courage is Farore's Wind. In Skyward Sword, Link rides upon his loftwing, a sacred creature which connects the Hylians to the Goddess. In Wind Waker, well, do I need to say it? The other Champions fit well with Din/Power (Urbosa and Daruk) and Nayru/Wisdom (Zelda and Mipha). Revali? Fits great with Farore/Courage. Revali, who pushes Link and gets so pissed (and hurt) when Link doesn't push back. Revali, who tells Link to watch him as he flies and grows so upset when Link doesn't react to that magical moment at all.
To leave the Great Plateau and begin his journey, Link needs to take a leap of faith and glide through the sky. Link needs the wind. Link needs to fly.
I could keep going for a while, but I think I should stop. lol I've written plenty of meta about these two before, though, so feel free to check out my Revalink tag. Always feel free to ask about these two (and fandom and such in general). I love rambling about them and people IRL tend to look at me like I'm crazy when I begin talking about this stuff. :D
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savagewildnerness · 7 months ago
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Lestat at the start of The Tale of the Body Thief:
Hi! I’m The Vampire Lestat! I’m 6ft tall & VERY attractive! Miami’s pretty great! Apart from all vampires can’t stand each other so we’re all solitary now! I love that though! (Even though I am in love with all vampires. I wonder where my beautiful mother, who is also my child is?)
I love killing the evildoer!!!… Can I be good if I save just one human who would have been murdered from death….? I don’t think so (but I’d appreciate it if you thought so!)
Wait… this murderer I’ve been following is utterly insane & unaware he’s even a murderer… I won’t even get to drink all his delicious murdery thoughts… how very disappointing… AND he’s not even beautiful! He’s ugly & dirty & mad…. but that old lady he was going to kill… she is so wonderful: her incredible life & self & the skeleton leaf of her younger self that she remains as now. Why, we even have the same taste in novels! I guess I’ll kill the murderer. SIGH. That was unsatisfying….
…Whoops I killed the lady too. In a very sexy way though! I’m so awful! (It was so Romantic!) I’m hungry for MORE!
Why is this weird person who’s followed me round the world giving me a story? Probably just some mad mortal & it means nothing.
Oh look, there’s David Talbot! I think I might have ruined his life, but I’ll just follow him everywhere anyway. I do worry about him.
I’d write a book about Rembrandt & The Devil if I was mortal. Here’s my plot summary… maybe that writer - Anne Rice could write it for me….? Obviously, since I’m a vampire, *I* can only write about MYSELF!!!
Gosh! I wish Claudia would stop haunting me. I can’t talk about it really, but I wish Akasha hadn’t turned me into a cipher to the terror of masculinity & made me a massacring evil Angel from which I can never absolve myself. And worse… I enjoyed it. It was sexy too. Why did I (sexily) kill that old lady? I THINK IT IS TIME TO SHUFFLE OFF THIS (IM)MORTAL COIL!!!
Well, I know I said I’d ruined David’s life, but I think I’ll just nip in for a visit & tell him he’s got less than a year to live & that I’m suicidal & am off to kill myself immediately…. But I’ll check a few hundred times if he’d like to be a vampire too! Just to torture him some more. David’s so funny! Why on Earth is he reading Faust & the bible!!!?! Bonkers!! Mmmmm… David is so beautiful & sexy too. But yes. I am ready to DIE.
I don’t know if I can kill myself, but I AM THE VAMPIRE LESTAT, so OF COURSE I’ll make like Icarus himself & fly directly into the sun! I’ll eat the sun if I can! I MUST MAKE SURE I AM TOTALLY NAKED BEFORE I FLY TO MY DEATH! Did you hear me? I’m taking my clothes OFF!!! I’m flying to the sun NAKED! I’ve done it! I have no clothes on at all! Are you sure you’re not thinking about how sad it is that I want to die & you’re definitely thinking about how naked I am instead?
I’m not in any way thinking about how I might only get a sun tan from this & I don’t want it to be uneven. I am SUICIDAL! I’m suicidal AND naked! I do sometimes lie to myself. But I wouldn’t lie to you. So let’s just say it’s one & the same to me - if I am blotted from existence or if I just get a marvellous tan. OK THEN! You’re absolutely certain you’re thinking about how naked I am?! Let’s go!
Oh no! I’m not dead, but this hurts a lot. I wish I was dead… I don’t think the sun can kill me…. But let’s give it one more go….
Omg… I gave it two whole days & this hurts a lot & it might take a year to kill me. I think I’ll just stay alive after all. I’ll just go lie naked on David’s tiger rug for 3 days as I contemplate my existence some more (he killed that tiger, you know!) I’m sure this won’t traumatise him any further & that it has zero psychological implications.
3 days later! I *suppose* I’d better put some clothes on now.
Woohoo! I’m glad I’m not dead actually. OMG I have such a FABULOUS sun tan! I have never looked more exquisitely beautiful! Thank GOODNESS I had the prescience to attempt suicide NAKED in order that I’ve made total use of this effect! Look at my iridescent eyes! Yippee! I’m so excited I could do a tap dance! I can’t believe I wanted to die so very deeply & now I’m filled with delight about how pretty I am! I think I’ll try to kill myself more often! Next time I’ll make sure that as I feel the sun like the fire of Hell upon my skin, I do a little twirl, just to make sure the tan is that much more even!
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layce2015 · 2 years ago
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Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)
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Sacrifices Must Be Made
Previous Chapter / Masterlist
"The scarecrow climbed off its cross?" Sam asked as Dean and I were talking to him through Dean's phone, which was on speakerphone, while we were sitting in a hotel. "Yeah, we're tellin’ ya. Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun Town." Dean said.
"It didn’t kill the couple, did it?" Sam asked. "No." Dean and I said in unison.
"So, something must be animating it. A spirit." Sam said, thinking. "No, it’s more than a spirit. It’s a god. A Pagan god, anyway." I replied.
"What makes you say that?" Sam asked. "The annual cycle of its killings? And the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. Like some kind of fertility right." I said and Dean nods. "And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattenin’ ‘em up like a Christmas turkey." Dean said.
"The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims." Sam said.
"Yeah, we're thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god." I replied.
"So, a god possesses the scarecrow..." Sam said. "And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won’t wilt, and disease won’t spread." Dean explains.
"Do you guys know which god you’re dealing with?" Sam asked. "No, not yet." I said.
"Well, both of you figure out what it is, you two can figure out a way to kill it." Sam said. "We know. We're actually on our way to a local community college. We’ve got an appointment with a professor. You know, since we don’t have our trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research." Dean said and we hear Sam laugh.
"You know, if you’re hinting you need my help, just ask." Sam said and Dean looks over at me as I pat his shoulder a give him a you know what you have to do look. "I’m not hinting anything. Actually, uh—I want you to know….I mean, don’t think…." Dean stammers before Sam speaks over him. "Yeah. I’m sorry, too." He said and I smirked a bit.
"Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life." Dean said as he looks over at me and I nod at him with a smile.
"Are you serious?" Sam asked.
"You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—anyway….I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy." Dean said and there was a moment of silence.
"I don’t even know what to say." Sam said. "Say you’ll take care of yourself." Dean said, sincerely.
"I will." Sam said.
"Call us when you find John." I said to Sam.
"OK. Bye, guys." Sam said in a sad voice and Dean hangs up the phone. "You sure about this, Dean?" I asked him. "Yeah..." he replied, softly, as he goes and gets ready for bed.
*****
The next day, Dean and I make our way to the community college and we walk along with the professor. "It’s not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology." He said to us. "Yeah, well, call it a hobby." Dean remarks.
"But you said you two were interested in local lore?" asked the Professor. "Mmhmm." Dean and I said. "I’m afraid Indiana isn’t really known for its Pagan worship." He said.
"Well, what if it was imported? You know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn’t a lot of this area settled by immigrants?" Dean asked him. "Well, yeah." said the Professor.
"Like that town near here, Burkittsville. Where are their ancestors from?" I asked him. "Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia." He replied.
"What could you tell us about those Pagan gods?" Dean asked him. "Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses." He said. "We're actually looking for one. Might live in an orchard." I said.
****
Later, in a classroom, the professor puts a large book down on a table and opens it. "Woods god, hm? Well, let’s see." He said as he leafs through some pages. On one page, I notice a picture of a scarecrow on a post surrounded by farmers in a field.
"Wait, wait, wait. What’s that one?" I asked him, pointing at the picture. "Oh, that’s not a woods god, per se." He said as Dean reads the book. "The V-Vanir?" Dean reads and the professor nods. "The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female." Dean reads then he points to the picture.
"Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?" He said. "I suppose." said the Professor as Dean continues to read. "This particular Vanir that’s energy sprung from the sacred tree?" 
"Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic." said the Professor. "So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it’d kill the god?" I asked him and the Professor laughs.
"Honey , these are just legends we’re discussing." He said. "Oh, of course. Yeah, you’re right." I said, feigning ignorance. "Listen, thank you very much." Dean said and we shake the professor’s hand. "Glad I could help." He said and Dean and I walk to the classroom door.
When Dean opens the door, he falls to the ground. "Dean!" I exclaimed just as I turned to the side. For a quick second, I saw the sheriff before he hits me on the face with the butt of his gun, knocking me out.
****
"(Y/n)! (Y/n)!" A voice said as I start to come back to consciences. I groan then look up and see that the voice belonged to Dean. "You know..." I muttered. "What?" Dean asked. "I should've gone with Sam." I said and I chuckle as he rolls his eyes. 
"Oh ha, ha." He grumbles as I sit up and run my hand over my face and he gets up and look around. I look around and I see that we were in some sort've cellar. "Hey! Help me with this!" Dean said as he points at a door. I get up and walk over to him and both of us start to shoulder charge the door as best as we could but no luck.
I look through the crack of the cellar doors and could see a lock and chain around the handle. "Well, of course." I grumbled as we backed away. Dean sighs as I asked. "What do we do?" 
"Well, we gotta find the tree." Dean said. "Yeah, but where could that tree be?" I asked him. "I don't know...maybe in that orchard where the scarecrow is?" He said and I nodded. "That would make sense. But now...how do we get out of here?" I asked.
At that moment, the cellar door opens and Stacy, Harley, the Sheriff were standing there. "It’s time." Stact said, making Dean and I look at each other, nervous.
*****
Back at the Orchard, the elders ended up tying Dean and I to two adjacent trees. "How many people have you killed, Sheriff? How much blood is on your hands?" Dean asked the sheriff as he finishes tying me up. "We don’t kill them." He replied.
"No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?" I asked, angrily, and the sheriff walks away.
"You two don't understand. This town needs to be safe. The good of the many outweighs the good of the one." Stacy said and she and the others walk away. "I hope your apple pie is freakin’ worth it!" Dean yells at them as I let out a sigh.
"So, what’s the plan, hot shot?" I asked him. "I’m workin’ on it." He said as he thinks this over.
****
"You don’t have a plan, do you?" I asked him, hours later. "I’m workin’ on it." He said, slightly panicked. "Oh yeah, I can see the smoke seeping through your ears as we speak." I said. I hear him let out a sigh then asked. "Can you see?"
"Yeah...why?" I asked him. "Is he moving yet?" Dean asked, referring to the scarecrow. I look around but couldn't really see. "I can’t see." I said until I see a shadow moving near the trees. "Uh....Dean?" I said, nervously, as I see more movement.
*****
But the shadow turned out to be Sam as he comes out from behind the trees. "Dean? (Y/n)?" He calls out and I let out a sigh. "Oh! Oh, I take everything back I said. I’m so happy to see you. Come on." Dean said as I nod. "Yeah, I'm so glad to see you as well, Sam." I said as Sam begins untying Dean from the tree.
"How’d you get here?" Dean asked. "I, uh—I stole a car." Sam said, sheepishly, and I smiled as Dean chuckles. "That’s our boy!" I exclaimed. "And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute." Dean tells him as Sam unties me.
"What scarecrow?" Sam asked. Dean and I get up and see the scarecrow’s post is empty. This makes the ththe of us exchange a nervous look. 
****
Eventually, the three of us began to run along the field. "Alright, now, this sacred tree you’re talking about—" Sam said as he thinks over what we explained. "It’s the source of its power." Dean said.
"So let’s find it and burn it." Sam said. "Nah, in the morning. Let’s just shag ass before Leather Face catches up." Dean said as he three of us reach a clearing.
But waiting for us were, Harley, Stacy, the Sherriff and a few other townspeople. "This way." Dean shouts and we turn around but we were blocked in all directions. "It’ll be over quickly, I promise." Harley said as we look around at them.
"You have to let him take you. You have to—" Harley said when, all of a sudden, a sickle sticks out through Harley’s stomach. Stacy screams, then she gets captured by the scarecrow and the two are dragged away by the scarecrow. The rest of the townspeople run away in fright.
"Come on, let’s go." I shouted and we start running. We hear a noise and turn around, but the scarecrow and its victims have disappeared. 
*****
By the time the sun rose we found the tree and started walking towards it with gasoline and a lighter. The tree was marked with Vince’s tattoo design. Sam goes to the tree and pours the gasoline on it while Dean picks up a long branch and lights it. He throws the burning branch onto the tree, and the three of us watch it go up in flames.
****
"What about the rest of the townspeople? Are they just gonna get away with it?" Sam asked as we walk back to Dean's car after the tree burned down. "Well, what’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough." Dean said then he turns to Sam. 
"So, can we drop you off somewhere?" He asked. "No, I think you guys are stuck with me." Sam replied as we stop at the car.
"What made you change your mind?" I asked him. "I didn’t. I still wanna find Dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass." Sam said as he looks over at Dean, who nods, while I chuckle. 
"But, Jess and Mom and Mrs. (L/N)—they’re gone. Dad is God knows where. You two and me. We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together." Sam said and I smirked as Dean pauses. "Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful." Dean said as be puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder, who hits it away. The three of us began to laugh.
"You should be kissing my ass, you two were dead meat, dude." Sam said to him. "Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d have gotten out." Dean said and I laughed. "Right." I said and he looks over at me. "I didn't hear you coming up with anything." He said. "Because I can admit that I couldn't think of anything. Unlike you, Mr Ego." I said and the three of us smile then we climb into the car.
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ghooostbaby · 2 months ago
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~fisherman yin yu au~ 2/? previous part
“And mine is Cao Gen. I’ve grown up in this area and I can tell you all about it - but I have to warn you, it’s a sad story. But not one that you can afford to miss if you're travelling this river.”
Yin Yu nodded resignedly.
“We used to farm on all this land around us, but we couldn’t grow anything anymore. Well - really, it’s that we couldn’t eat anything we grew or caught here anymore. It was the same problem with the fish of the river as well as the crops of the land. Anything we ate made us sick. It was a curse.”
One of the younger ones mumbled something. Another one said, “Cursed by villains.”
Yin Yu looked at Cao Gen.
“It took a long time to realize the cause of the illness. It’s a slow process, years of eating and drinking the food and water before there are signs of anything. A few decades ago some sort of ... smelting works set up a little upstream from us. At first it seemed like a good opportunity for all of us. But slowly the land began to change, and so did we. Of course, thirty years later it all seems so obvious. Just to look at the water you'd know never to drink it.” 
“I’ve seen fish with two heads in the river here,” said one of the others, poking the fire.
“Why stay?” asked Yin Yu. “Why live in poisoned waters?”
“This is our land! Why should we leave?” said the young man.
Yin Yu’s mouth tightened but then he just shrugged and said, “I suppose.”
Cao Gen said, “Many have left. But some of us don’t want to admit defeat yet.”
The others mumbled various things and one of them spoke out loud a prayer, “Pray Lord Scholar He watch over us and kill all the villains.”
“Our local god,” explained Cao Gen to Yin Yu.
Yin Yu looked at Cao Gen inquisitively.
“Oh,” smiled Cao Gen. “His is one my favourite stories. We all heard about him growing up. One of us, a hundred years ago or so. Another person in our town. As a mortal youth, he had had great promise as a scholar but tragedy after tragedy befell him. Still, he persevered. Finally, when he was older he found his footing in business. But all the corrupt business people of the town conspired against him again and again so he could never rise to his potential.” 
Cao Gen smiled at Yin Yu, pausing before he went on, “And then at last, he went into a rage and  murdered them all! He freed the town of these corrupt men that had plagued us. During the slaughter, his back was full of protruding weapons, but still he kept going until he had killed every last one of those parasites. And then he died of exhaustion.”
Yin Yu stared at him, speechless for a moment. “That’s quite a story.”
“If anyone can avenge us, he can,” said Cao Gen.
“And… how do you know he didn’t pass on?”
“When we began to realize that people were slowly dying from the poisoned animals and crops, we were very angry, and hopeless. But we always remembered Scholar He’s story and it meant even more to us because of what we suffered. We began to pray to him, make offerings, we even built a temple. We begged him to avenge us. And then he started to help us. Things at the works go wrong … unexplained damages. We know it is him.”
Yin Yu looked thoughtful. Finally he said, "I know you don't want to hear this, but chances are ... your only hope is to leave."
“Hm. Master Yin, you said you have no place you call home? Maybe you can’t understand.”
“Maybe,” agreed Yin Yu.
“Either way, your fish will be welcome at the market tomorrow, before you move on,” Cao Gen said.
“But what about your warning to not travel at night...?”
“Oh yes. That's when Scholar He emerges and goes to the works, calling every demonic thing to him. And to go there now you’d be heading right into it. This is far enough downriver we can have a campfire by the water here … but I wouldn’t want to see what goes on up there at night.”
“You’ve never seen it?” asked Yin Yu. “How do you know what happens?”
Cao Gen tutted and shook his head laughing. “Just trust me, Master Yin. If you stay tomorrow night at the village, rent a room.”
-
btw this idea came from a combination of being obsessed with he xuan, watching princess mononoke that reminded me of a combination of environmental/human rights atrocities in eastern canada... (sydney tar ponds and boat harbour) ... and then because i wanted to live out my fantasy of bringing yin yu and he xuan in to fuck with the people who do that kind of thing (and fix the ending of princess mononoke waaaaah) i've done some reasearch on chinese ecosystems to try and somewhat make that fit a xianxia world. so this is some kind of fantasy china-canada universe i guess. i'm no ecologist/geographer but i'm doing my best...
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tiredesperdad · 1 year ago
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I've been thinking about their dynamic way too much since I've started playing age of calamity + replaying breath of the wild so here are some of my thoughts about Teba and Revali under the cut.
Like sadly age of calamity barely scratches the surfaces but man their relationship could be so interesting and if you ask me there isn't nearly enough Revali&Teba fanfic out there. I need them to bond in those "the champions live" AUs, I need it!
Anyway....
So we have Revali. Champion of the Rito. Master of the sky and greatest archer they have ever seen. He worked his ass off to create his gale and he's regarded highly among the Rito even a hundred years after his death. But also he was most likely still very young. There are different headcanons but I'd like to think that he was of similar age as Zelda and Link. We don't know anything about his family but either he wasn't really close with anyone while he was still alive or he lost everything in those 100 years he was gone (most likely a bit of both). He's a bit of a drama queen. He acts arrogant but we know from the champion's ballad dlc that he was rather insecure and putting up a front. He's the kinda guy you sometimes just wanna tell to shut up.
Then you have the Rito who look up to him. Nobody had a blood connection to him or really remembers him as an individual, not like the other champions. He's kind of a legend among the Rito.
And that brings us to Teba.
Teba, like the rest of the Rito, always looked up to their champion and the stories they were told about him. He's the best warrior the Rito have at the time of breath of the wild. He has a son and wife but still acts pretty reckless. Saki and Harth describe him as impulsive and Teba describes himself as rather blunt and direct. He seems like a bit of a grump but also is caring.
And now put those two together.
Like I just love this dynamic of Teba meeting /the/ Rito champion, the guy he spent his whole life looking up to and he's barely older than a fledgling. He's a kid whose kind of a dickhead but also absolutely has all of the skills that are remembered about him. But also like holy shit he's so young. And alone. There are no blood relatives left, everyone he knew is dead. He probably didn't even have many connections while he was still alive. Revali went through a lot of shit, too. Like depending on the AU he not only woke up 100 years later but he probably remembers the fight against windblight ganon, he remembers the fear, he remembers dying maybe. But also he's too proud to admit it and he doesn't open up to anyone.
But then there's Teba who is blunt, he's direct. So I'd like to think he'd be the perfect person for Revali in such a scenario because let's be real, Revali needs someone who will call out the bullshit once in a while and just flat out tells him what he doesn't want to hear but needs to hear. Maybe someone who sees him for the person that he is and not just the champion Revali.
Also I feel like at some point the Rito (in Revali's time) were looking up to Revali so much he really just lived that front of the Rito champion. He couldn't show weakness, he always had to be strong and perfect and couldn't make any mistakes. But that shit can't keep going and Teba probably would just.... kick his ass about it once in a while.
Plus I'm 100% accepting from age of calamity that Revali is good with kids and takes on Tulin/trains him (maybe even the other kids).
Anyway.... Just.... Revali's and Teba's dynamic man. I just love the thought of Teba being that adult that Revali so desperately needs but I also like the thought of these two shitheads impulsively going off all the time and driving Saki and Harth crazy. You have Revali who is about to do something stupid and everyone is like "ah thank god Teba went to stop him" but Teba 100% would go along with it almost every time.
Also sidenote: Give me those Kass and Revali bonding moments. There are exactly zero Kass&Revali fanfics on AO3 and it's killing me, I love Kass so much, please give Revali a calm adult who will play songs for him, thanks.
Also another sidenote: I know mute Link is a big headcanon in the fandom but I've always imagined that he's much more talkative after losing his memories and that would be the reason why he and Revali would get along a lot better if the champions ended up being alive after the 100 years of Link sleeping. A big reason why Revali dislikes Link so much is because he doesn't speak his mind and shows no emotions so I think they absolutely could get over this with Link just being more open (and Revali swallowing his pride for once) because he doesn't have to put up a front anymore.
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insertsomthinawesome · 1 year ago
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I love your Genshin lore takes, any interesting hcs/AUs/lore bits you'd like to share? Also, amazing art!
AA!!!!
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That makes me so happy to hear actually??? THank you???? I love getting to ramble about genshin or stuff I'm into i'm just often too shy asldfkaslfalsgsdgdsdgsg so thank you!!!!! ;;v;; AND THANKS I'M GLAD YOU LIKE MY ART TOO!!!!!! ;;v;; <3 <3 <3 OOOoooh HMMM, I've been more into TWST and Trigun Recently so let me dig up my braincells to think about it dfLSJFLSDJGLSDGD Throwing stuff below the cut cause this could get LONG
Well on the subject of Itto, I headcanon him being 6'6 ft tall... Why??? Because it makes his voiceline about everybody shorter than him being a child really funny. 🤣 Also because he beeg and you can't convince me otherwise SDLFJSDLJGSLDGSD OOOOH Okay this one is very much a headcanon i have for pure self indulgence: So my two genshin blorbos of main focus are Zhongli and Diluc right? I like to headcanon that, at some point after Diluc was nearly killed by the harbingers, he collapsed somewhere near Liyue harbor (His injuries probably weren't directly related to the Harbinger ones, tho it depends on the amount of time it's taken between That incident and him being in Liyue, I think I came up with this idea LONG before i really understood a lot of what Diluc actually did away from home xD) he's found and carried to Liyue, where he's tended to, probably by Baizhu cause I love Baizhu, and recovers. Its here he's visited by Zhongli. Zhongli knew Crepus. Not super well! They weren't besties or nothin, but Crepus would be in Liyue, and Zhongli would be in Liyue, both of them having some level of prestige, Zhongli through his job and Crepus through his Titles, ended up meeting. They would talk and of course that means Zhongli heard about Diluc. Beyond that even, Zhongli was probably vaguely aware of Diluc's existence just from the fact that Crepus is a Ragnvindr, which means gossip/news on his family spreads potentially across the globe. (And maybe Zhongli checked in once in a while out of honor to a dear friend he hadn't seen in five hundred years...) ANYWAYS. Zhongli introduces himself and mentions he knew Crepus. A grieving Diluc probably asks for more information without really knowing if he wants more info or not. Its through this that Zhongli learns of Crepus's passing, and Diluc being less well put together from his injuries, ends up confessing to having hurt Kaeya. He despairs of ever being able to make up for it, to which Zhongli is surprisingly quiet and attentive before finally speaking up: "...Life is short, like the flower, it blooms for a season, blossoms in all its color and beauty, and then it shrivels away on the winds, nothing left of it but the Sweetness of memory." He pauses. "If you care about your brother, than return to him, confess your wrong doings, and don't let the burden of you mistakes carry until such a time as the ability to do something about them is force-ably taken away from your hands." The mans smile is soft, but sad. Not in a pitying way, and not in a way that is even directed at Diluc, if anything, he seems thousands of miles away. "There are fewer burdens, and fewer regrets, that can weigh heavier." This of course creates a fun dynamic to play around with if Lumine or other events drag Diluc to Liyue later >:D As for AU's I can give you two I've dwelled on!: Number one is an Inazuma rewrite, but I bring in a party of my chosing. I started this one before I played the game, so I didn't exaclty understand what went down in the INazuma plot, but Man I was having fun so xD THe party of choice in this case was Zhongli, Diluc, Thoma, and of course Lumine. I had fun with this idea because it allowed Zhongli and Diluc to function in the plot, and Thoma would be WAAAAY more involved as well. I didn't iron out Loads of details, but I wanted there to be a big confrontation between Lumine and Zhongli based off the fact that Azhdaha's quest happened before Inazuma, and before that was uh. THe reveal of Khaenri'ah. Needless to say Lumine's not exactly feeling the greatest about Zhongli. But she considers him a friend, or at least wants too. Zhongli is dealing with the sting of a pre-inazuma plot confrontation from Lumine, where she confessed that she'd have a hard time trusting him if he kept keeping secrets and he couldn't explain himself.
The two of them were planned to get into a huge fight that ALMOST gets physical. But Diluc stops them (Something something he knows making the mistake of attacking someone you love out of fear and broken trust 🙃) This ends up splitting the party for a while, Diluc going off with Zhongli, and Thoma staying with Lumine. Ultimately I wanted this to end with Zhongli getting to have a bit Showdown with Raiden Shogun, essentially kinda getting to brute force his way into her grief. I always loved the idea of the woman who can't move on from grief talking with the man who has suffered so much grief but still lives, this would kinda allow that, it would also allow for Zhongli to be a little bit of a father figure to Ei in her frustrations and grief. Also it would be hilarious if Inazuma kinda knew Rex Lapis was alive... but he kinda saved all their butts, so nobody's going to out him xD This would essentially spiral into a lot of canon divergence plots and development for the cast of characters that's just, not in canon? But man I still think it'd be so fun :D Also Diluc and Ei eventually become friends through this adsflJSFLSJDLGJSLDGJSDGSDG. I think they could help each other :) The SECOND AU is one where, Diluc, on his journey, ends up getting stuck in Inazuma before he can get home. So diluc is visionless, Has the Delusion, and is not in good health. Itto ends up finding him passed out on a beach, drags him back to Granny Oni's, and his gang nurse him back to health all while assuming Diluc was a victim of the Vision hunt decree (i think the vision hunt decree is pretty recent in canon?? This would be an AU where the timeline got bumped up, probably Raiden starts off a lot slower with the vision hunts, only taking a few of them once in a great while to further "eternity" Until she spirals bad enough to start taking them all.... IDK its rough but workable maybe xD) THis AU is mostly for letting Itto bully Diluc into loving himself among other things xD and the angst of it taking even longer for Diluc and Kaeya to reunite...... WHich i would defo make them reunite when Lumine comes over to finally end the Vision hunt decree soooooooooo >:3 Diluc ends up getting adopted by the Arataki gang, by EVERY member, and he's not happy about it (He is, he's just a freaking tsundere)
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