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inlovewithgreta · 8 months ago

Note

Heya! i was wondering if you could do a Captain Phasma x f!reader fic? Maybe a little bit of spice? It could be any plot btw! (Captain Phasma is one of Gwendolines characters! :))

Space Racing - Captain Phasma x Fem!Reader

Summary: Phasma distracts you in the most best way possible.

Warnings: Praise, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), I think that's it!!

Word Count: 1.6k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @bellatrixsbrat

"Sometimes I worry about your flying skills," your lover admitted, after her head hit the back of her seat when you increase your speed.

"It's not my flying skills that you need to worry about." You were smiling from ear to ear. You never got the chance to fly, but when someone bets you to a race, Phasma had no choice but to tag along.

Knowing you would've gone with or without her permission..

You heard her take in a sharp breath, unsure of if it was because of a passing asteroid that was a little bit too close or the subtle graze of your knee against her own.

"Oh?" She tilted her head. "And what is it that I need to worry about exactly?" She asked.

"Well, when I win this bet—"

"If you win the bet—"

"When I win, I'm going to have so much fun making you pay for ever doubting me."

Phasma quickly rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

"Once I have you on your knees, you'll have no choice but to beg for my forgiveness," you teased.

"And what would you make me do?" She knew it would never happen, but alas she was curious what your mind would come up with.

"I'll have to feel it out once the moment comes of course.. but, one thing's for sure is I will not let you up until I am entirely satisfied."

"You sound awfully sure of yourself, sweetheart. But your friend here might just give you a run for your money and beat you." She pointed to the ship on your left, slowly passing you.

Your concentrated face had Phasma admiring you. She loved the way your eyebrows knitted and the bottom lip that got pulled in to be bitten by your teeth.

Her hand curling around the back of your neck almost broke your focus. But now was not the time to be distracted. You had a bet to win.

Her gesture was light yet possessive, sending an immediate shiver down your spine as her fingers toyed with your hair.

"Phas..." you mumbled, trying to stay focused.

Instead of removing her hand, she allowed her fingers to leave your hair to trail along the side of your throat. In a slow, teasing manner.

Your eyes flicked to the woman sitting next to you, but she tutted and shook her head.

"Keep your eyes straight ahead, princess."

You let out a deep breath, attempting to focus. It was hard to ignore the fingers that left a fiery trail across your skin. When she dipped them lower, you couldn't help the gasp that escaped.

With an agonizing slowness, Phasma soon went low enough to trace the upper swell of your breasts...then even lower down your body. Another gasp fell past your lips when she went even farther to trace your nipple through your shirt.

"Not so sure of yourself winning, now are you?" She asked, knowing how much your teasing was easily distracting you.

You hadn't noticed how far she leaned in, lips just barely gracing the shell of your ear as she spoke. Her voice was lustrous and deep, and her lips were soft and light.

"I don't think this is what I had in mind when I let you accompany me."

"You think you let me accompany you? Oh darling, you have it all wrong." Phasma teased the edge of your bra.

You knew exactly where this was headed, and you eagerly awaited her next moves. You couldn't help but shiver in anticipation as she grazed your nipple once more before rolling it between her fingers.

"You okay, love?" She smirked, teasing you to her best ability. She knew the effect she had on you. How hot and bothered you easily got.

You silently nodded your head, not trusting your voice at a time like this. Where you knew you would be shaky and breathy.

Phasma put a warm, comforting hand on your knee to give you some time to recover from her hands on your breasts. But she knew exactly what she was doing.

Her hand only temporarily stalled, only moving to inch it higher up your inner thigh.

"Phas, please..." You truly couldn't take anymore, all the teasing, the touches, the sultriness in her voice.

Her hand reached your center, fingers teasing you even more through your clothes. You couldn't help but gasp from the touch.

"Imagine if they could see you right now..." Phasma increased the pressure, forcing you to buck you hips against her hand in a desperate attempt for more friction. "Trying to get yourself off on my hand while you attempt to beat your silly little friends in a race that you're no longer participating in."

You had finally reached a point that you couldn't take anymore of her taunting and teasing. You pulled the ship to a stop and turned to face your smirking lover.

"No more teasing. I need you. Right now." Your eyebrows were knitted and lips were down in a faux pout, leaving Phasma to let out a deep, husky, laugh.

You grab the blonde by the front of her shirt, glad she was not wearing her usual suit. You pulled her into a deep, hard, demanding kiss. Phasma matches your energy immediately, tongue sweeping into your mouth.

You try to undress her, but you bump into the steering wheel. With a huff, you pull the lever to move your seat back. Phasma is quick to kneel in front of you, pulling your pants down eagerly.

"How's this?" She asks, placing a gentle kiss on your knee.

"Much better.." You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. "But I'd like to see more of your skin too."

The blonde smiled, before unbuttoning her top and revealing her white bra that looked angelic with her milky skin.

"That's more like it."

Phasma reaches up to cup your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You hum when her soft lips demand your own.

You feel breathless when she pulls away, to make her way back down your body. Your legs spread wider to make room for her. Adrenaline pumps through your veins as Phasma pulls your panties down your bare legs.

"This excites you, doesn't it?" She asks with a teasing tone. "Imagine someone looking inside our window here. Me between your legs, fucking this pretty pussy of yours right out in the open."

"Yes, I love it," you admitted. Phasma runs her hands up and down your curves, before flicking her thumb across your clit.

"You like it when I touch you like this too, huh?"

Her touch left sparks in their wake, sending a longing straight to your core as she circled your button.

"Yess..." you bucked your hips. "But I like it more when you use your mouth." You tug at her blonde locks, urging her head forward.

She takes the hint, and places a small, light peck to your center. A small hum left your lips, finally getting what you've been craving most.

"I love when you take what you want from me," she mused.

Her long pointer finger gathered your slick around your entrance before slipping inside you. As you gasped from the intrusion, Phasma didn't wait to insert her middle finger.

"Yess, Phas..." You let your body relax as your lover started her slow pace.

"Tell me how you want me, and I'm all yours." Between her accent, big blue eyes gazing up at you, and her fingers inside your cunt, you didn't know which one made your pussy throb more.

"I want you exactly like this. Between my legs. Using your fingers and that pretty mouth of yours to fuck me."

Phasma nods with a smirk, "I may have a pretty mouth but this pussy is a whole lot prettier, my love." Her mouth reaches your clit, and you gasp.

"Yess..." Your head falls back against the seat while your lover fucks you. With a free hand, she reaches up to tuck a hand underneath your bra to cup your breast.

Fingers toyed with your nipples while the others fucked your pussy with long, feverish strokes that had your breathing growing heavy.

She pushes her finger knuckle deep, and you let out a long, loud, pornographic moan. The overwhelming onslaught of sensations had you seeing stars. And not the ones that were outside the window.

"Gods, that feels so good.."

Phasma slows down to give you a moment to catch your breath... only to then slowly bring her pace back up. Every stroke, and thrust of her fingers had you moaning out in pleasure.

She does it over, and over, and over again. Slowing down, just to pick up her pace all over again. Her lips were wrapped around your button, and with each hum from the blonde, you bucked your hips.

The hand on your breast twists and pulls at your nipple. The pain from her pinches mixed beautifully with the pleasure between your legs. Gazing down however, was the last straw for you.

Big blue eyes were still gazing at you, almost undressing the rest of you with her eyes. The sight was plain out filthy, and the sounds coming from your wet pussy as you came, had her letting out another hum as your juices dropped out of your used hole.

"Phasma!" Your body felt numb, as your orgasm ripped through you. The cramped space from the seat had your body closing in tightly around the blonde.

As you were finally able to catch your breath, Phasma slowed her movements little by little. She wanted to elongate your orgasm as long as possible, but still ensuring you weren't overstimulated.

"I hope they don't think we got lost," you laughed, suddenly remembering why you were there on the ship in the first place.

Phasma leaned up, to pull you into a deep, smashing, demanding kiss.

"Y'know, I can't bring myself to care about your little friends. All I care about right now is you.. and cleaning up this little mess you made." Phasma kissed your inner thigh before pulling away to grab anything within reach to clean you up.

And that's when you noticed the damp front side of her shirt and the small wet spot below you.

"Christ, Phas... what have you done to me?"

"Fucked you good, sweet girl. That's what I did."

She was gentle while cleaning you up, and your heart was bursting with love. The last thing you ever imagined, was being treated like a Princess by one of the most badass stormtroopers you have ever met.

general masterlist | gwen masterlist | taglist

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #star wars #the first order #captain phasma #captain phasma x reader #fanfic #smut #lesbiansmut #wlw smut #oneshot #lesbian #aggnm

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mischievous-piltovan · 1 month ago

Text

The Undying Oath (NSFW)

Chapter 5: In Dim Carcosa (SFW)

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader navigates troubled waters. The Herald is no longer Viktor, he’s merely wearing her late lover’s visage. Yet, she can’t leave him - the guilt of her past betrayal and her duty to the denizens of Zaun keep her bound to the Emberlift Alley Workshop. But not all is lost.

A/N: I had the outline for a way longer chapter, but the more I worked on top of it, the longer it became. So I decided to chop it off in two chapters. Bad news: this might be a harder read, a bit morose with no immediate pay-off. The good news: the next chapter is gonna come much quicker since I not only already have an outline, I also have it fairly written. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one.

Warnings: Major Character Death. Loss of a loved one. He came back wrong. Angsty. War.

Word Count: 5.2K

Also on AO3

Somewhere far away, embedded deep into the veil of the Cosmos, the stars were cackling. At least, they must have been. Because whatever the celestials had planned for her was undoubtedly a joke. And a bad one at that.

After the fiasco that was their moment of intimacy, Viktor explained the origin of his lack of feelings. The procedure Dr. Raveck performed - a mixture of open-chest surgery and chemical infusion -, although resulting in his successful recovery, came with a side-effect: the complete removal of his capacity to feel.

“And what about all this metal?” She asked, motioning at his artificial limbs. “Was this the Doctor too?”

“No, these are my doing,” Viktor responded calmly. “I got rid of the hexcorized tissues in favor of parts I had control over.”

Yet, the cosmic punchline was in the bittersweetness of it all.

There was no doubt in her mind that she was glad Viktor was alive. A part of her was thrilled to be by his side again, to be able to watch him use his intellectual prowess to aid those in need. Like he always dreamed of. After all those months beside him, watching him decay bit by bit every day. After mourning his loss for weeks, engulfed in guilt imagining his last days all alone. This opportunity to be with him again felt like a blessing.

But something wasn't right, he wasn't right. He miraculously came back from the dead. But he came back wrong.

Viktor was not the man she loved anymore, just an echo of who he once was. An uncanny simulacrum, not completely different, but an ill-imitation of the original.

Like a song she knew by heart, but every now and then he changed the lyrics, sang off-key, outpaced the tempo. In every exchange, every act, no matter how mundane, something was always frustratingly wrong.

It was in the way he walked, still impaired and aided by a cane, but it lacked the grace of before, being replaced by an almost robotic stride. It was in the way he was built, still thin with long and lanky limbs, but he was now rigid, standing artificially straight. It was in the way he spoke, with his still low and accented voice, but with a new dull lint of his speech, tempered and softened, lacking the once alluring sharp edges

And all of it seemed to mock her.

In this new form, Viktor was both her persecutor and warden - his very presence tormented her, made her acutely aware of her love for his old self and the fact he was forever gone. But it also kept her in place, for she couldn't leave him. She had no right to.

Not when she had done it once already. Not when he needed her help again. She just had to endure, to bear the cross of her own mistakes in spite of her feelings. And so she did.

—--

Luckily, he kept his mask on throughout the day, blocking out the world from his remaining humanity, and unknowingly shielding her from excess torment, albeit a little. In his full herald garb, the girl could pretend he was someone else entirely, his accented voice was the only hint of his old self, and even that was attenuated by the modulation of the mask.

She started to use his metallic veneer as a tool to help her envision him as someone else entirely. While masked, he wasn't her once fianceé Viktor, but the transhumanist scientist known as the Herald. By clinging to the difference on these labels, she was able to keep some semblance of sanity.

The schedule around the Emberlift Alley Workshop was divided in three blocks. The mornings were designated for new patients, people whose issues were yet to be assessed and properly diagnosed. It was also when Viktor took their measurements in order to build them their prosthesis. Around noon came those whose synthetic limbs were already built and just had to be attached, as well as those in need of maintenance. The evenings were devoted to building the prosthesis based on the measurements taken in the morning. She only needed to be present for the afternoon appointments, when her healing was necessary.

And she'd take every opportunity available to not be present in the same room as him. To avoid unnecessary feelings and ruminations from clouding her mind. To keep her focus on her work.

Instead of remaining idle, she started to organize the rest of the house bit by bit during her free time, trying to bring back some of the home aspect to the place. The busy work kept her from dwelling on the stalemate, preventing her from spiraling into dark thoughts. The people of Zaun needed her in topnotch condition, there wasn't room to come undone. Viktor didn't comment on it, but noticed the effort - the organized space brought him further clarity of mind.

One evening as she was sweeping the floor in the living-room, a familiar voice called her name from behind her. It belonged to Ralph.

“Long time no see, Ralph!” She greeted him, turning around. “Are you here for mainte- what's all that?”

Ralph grinned as he approached her, a small wooden crate in his arms filled to the brim with… Junk?

“It's material for the prostheses!”

“No offense, but,” her hand delicately plucked a corroded rusty screw from the crate, rolling it between her index finger and her thumb. “I don't think these can be used.”

Before Ralph could respond, an accented modular voice rang from behind them.

“They can,” its sound alone sent a shiver down her spine, inching her dangerously close to the precipice of her own mind. “Ralph brought these for me at my request.”

That day she learned just how Viktor was able to keep providing people with prosthetic limbs even under the shortage of resources the conflict between the two cities was causing.

Stricken by curiosity, she followed him as he took the crate down to the workshop below. He placed it on the desk next to the HexCore, its pulsating cold light casting ghastly flickering shadows over the stone walls of the basement. She watched as the Herald pressed various keys on the machinery the HexCore sat atop before the runic matrix reacted, spinning faster than before. Her breathing hitched when an energy beam erupted from the core, elevating the material from the crate and amalgamating its contents together - sorting it by material, no less. In the next moment, all the contents inside the crate were gone, and sheets of different types of material rested on the desk next to it.

An almost inaudible ‘amazing’ escaped from her lips. She swore the Herald chuckled before continuing.

“Those I've helped come bearing whatever form of scraps they find as a show of gratitude,” he explains. “Although the sentiment is unnecessary, the gesture allows me to help more people in the long run.”

Ralph is one of those who often visits with scraps, and in the days that follow is the one person tethering her to some semblance of lucidity. Whenever he comes, he makes sure to stay a while, a warm smile always on his face.

“Your situation is so unique, I'm not sure I have the words necessary to help you,” Ralph relented during one of his visits. They both sat across from each other at the recently uncluttered dinner table. “But I need to encourage you to cut yourself some slack.”

A chuckle escaped her lips.

“I cut myself some slack when I betrayed his trust, didnt I?,” she murmured with a long exhale. “I don't think I should be allowed to do so ever again.”

Ralph rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly in mock annoyance.

“You know what, you actually shouldn't. You are the worst person to ever step foot in Runeterra, and your sins could never be forgiven,” he conceded, looking away from her. “For instance, leaving your gilded life in Piltover to come to the Fissures just because you refused to build weapons to be used against us. What a crime.”

She arched an eyebrow in a knowing look. “Ralph…”

“Not to mention all the years in the Academy, fighting to bring positive change to the Undercity!” He turned back to her, crossing his arms. “And spending all her energy healing our sick after getting her shiny new arm? What a monster!”

His words held good intentions, but failed to truly reach her. Every moment interacted with Viktor was a dire reminder of her mistakes, a memento of her subsequent loss, and an omen of her guilt.

She woke up one day in the middle of the night in full alert. Sitting up on the bed and quickly scanning her surroundings proved there was nothing to worry about, it was just another rough night for a troubled mind. On instinct, her eyes landed on the bed on the other side of the room, and she was graced with Viktor's sleeping form.

It was a rare sight, one she subconsciously tried avoiding by opting to always go to bed before him. The Herald had a habit to stay up late tinkering away at the workshop downstairs, which gave her ample time to get ready for bed and be fast asleep before he was even in the room. The last thing she needed was being further damaged by the sight of him stripped down from his Herald form to something more akin to the man she once knew.

And that was the right call, because seeing him now with his face bare, lips slightly parted, and a peaceful look on his face was… Blissfully painful.

And dangerously magnetic.

Her limbs moved on their own as she slowly rose from her bed, tiptoeing her way to his side, eyes locked on him, committing this Viktor to mind as much as possible. She sat on the floor next to his bed, resting her head over one arm atop the mattress.

She watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The same sharp jaw, now framed by metal, the thin cracked lips, moles dotting the area above his upper lip, just under his eye, and the twins at the side of his neck.

This was not the Herald. This was Viktor.

Her eyes landed on his hand closest to her and she dared to snake her marbled hand towards it, stopping right before touching it. One marbled pinky curled around his and something akin to elation blossomed inside her chest.

Her eyes fluttered close. In the dark behind her eyelids, she could almost pretend they were back at their shared bedroom in Piltover. His scent and the ongoing soft sounds of his breathing lulled her into a false sense of security, and before she could do anything, sleep claimed her.

When next she woke, the clarity of the day lit up the room from the window. Lifting her head up from her arms, she winced as the stiffness of her neck made itself known. Massaging the region, her eyes searched for Viktor but found an unsurprisingly empty bed.

With a groan, she rose to her feet while mentally chastising herself for falling asleep on the floor. Not to mention having Viktor waking up to her sleeping creepily at his side like an obsessed lunatic. She dreaded what he'll have to say about it.

A glance at her own bed proved she wouldn't have to wait to find out. On top of the mattress rested a vial - filled with a clear liquid she recognized as the calming concoction Viktor offered upon their first meeting - and a note. She picked it up and read it ‘Drink it whenever you feel restless’.

Apart from that, he never mentioned that night again. And she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

—--

The day she dreaded came earlier than anticipated. After nudging a frame on the wall to the side and back, rotating it ever so slightly clockwise and counterclockwise for the ninth time, she exhaled in resignation - the frame was fine as it was the first time, she was merely stalling. Stalling from recognizing her work was done, the whole house had been thoroughly organized.

Which meant her only excuse to be absent from the workshop outside of the afternoon hours was no more.

She exhaled once more, trying to weigh her options. On one hand, she could keep on being present only when the prosthesis were being attached, she'd just have to find other things to do around the workshop in the meantime - sitting idly with her thoughts was an easy way to slip into spiraling. There was the option of going out and finding purpose somewhere else, maybe going back to the Firelights Hideout to be a part-time inhouse healer. But then again, there was a conflict happening out there, and exposing herself to being caught by enforcers or in the crossfire of a shooting just because she didn't want to spend more time with the Herald than necessary was… Stupid. On the other hand, being present during assessment could prove useful - getting to know the patients and their woes beforehand could give her more insights and perhaps make her work better. She could even heal them beforehand in case they had wounds still open, or even aid them with stuff completely unrelated to the prosthesis whatsoever.

She glanced at the wall clock and felt a chill run down her spine - it was still mid-morning. She could do this, couldn't she? They say consistent exposure to a trigger tends to dull its effects on a person. She already spends a lot of time in his presence daily, a little more couldn't make such a big difference. Let's not think about the different circumstances each part of the day schedule entailed, with the afternoon time being more busy work and her being able to ignore Viktor's presence entirely, while the morning period would consist of observing and learning on her part. Just. Don't. Think. About. It.

With a resolute exhale, before resolve could escape her, she patted the remainders of dust off of her clothes and made her way down to the basement.

Viktor was sitting at the HexCore desk, noting something down on a parchment paper. She fought the icicle in the pit of her stomach signaling her to run.

“Greetings, sit on the table. I'll be there in a moment” he spoke without facing her, the orange glow of his mask kept firmly at the paper before him.

“No, uhm… it's actually me” She greeted shyly. He turned to her upon hearing her response.

“Oh,” he interjected. “There's still a couple hours before the afternoon appointments start.”

“I know, it's just… “ She could feel her resolve faltering, but pressed on nonetheless. “I was thinking about being present during the morning assessments as well, to learn of your methods and perhaps lending a helping hand where I could.”

A pause befall the two and suddenly the air was thicker. Her eyes kept away from him, fixated in the glow of the rune matrix beside him. The icicle in the pit of her stomach evolved into a dagger and was risking becoming a sword each second that passed between them.

She started deliberating being torn asunder from the inside or just bolting out of the door, not to set foot in the workshop again, when Viktor spoke. “I believe your contributions could be valuable. You may stay.”

Before she could respond, the creaking of the wooden stairs behind them announced the arrival of a patient. She turned around and was greeted with a familiar face.

“Hey, Miss Architect! Long time no see!” A middle-aged man with an athletic build and thinning gray hair stood leaning on a crutch, his left leg missing from the knee down.

“Yo-you're Wenn, right? The courier?” Memories of the countless times she visited the Undercity for data gathering flooded her mind, his face a constant presence. But once the words left her mouth, her eyes did a double take at his missing limb. “Oh… “

“Yeah, I know… “ Wenn jested coily. “But Mister Herald here is gonna make me all good, isn't he?”

“Correct,” Viktor agreed curtly. “Please sit on the table so I can get your measurements.”

Wenn did as commanded while Viktor prepared the tools. The girl stood by the HexCore desk, crossing her arms. “So, what happened to you?”

“Same as everyone else, Enforcers,” Wenn answered nonchalantly. “Was doing my rounds in a permitted area and was still met with a landmine. I was darn lucky it only got my leg.”

“Please, hold still.” Viktor’s robotic voice cut through.

“I wish I could say a mine buried in a permitted area surprised me, but I'd be lying…“ she commented dryly. Enforcers brutality against Zaunites was already a well-known reality often overlooked by the Piltovan state, but ever since the conflict broke out, it felt like it had been cranked up to eleven. The Enforcers filled Zaun with barricades and checkpoints, stipulating permitted areas for passage. Unfortunately, it looked like they didn't keep the bombs solemnly in prohibited territory.

“Tell me about it… “ Wenn sighed. “This whole situation was bad enough before, my radius of operation had shrunk significantly because of it, losing my leg was the cherry on top of this shitcake.”

“We'll solve that part at least.” She assured him.

Viktor turned around and was about to rise from his chair when she stopped him. “I can note down his measurements for you.”

“That would be helpful, I appreciate it.” Viktor acknowledged it, turning back to Wenn after informing her the number.

The girl diligently grabbed a pen on the desk and started writing down what Viktor was telling her when something grabbed her attention - the schematics she was scribbling on. Something was off, the schematics was for a standard prosthesis, something that he usually builds for the common folk. A courier like Wenn, who spends his whole day on foot, walking around the uneven stone pathways of Zaun needed something more sturdy, with more padding. Viktor certainly had something like that designed, didn't he?

“Is this the right schematic?” She prodded.

“It's the leg one, correct?” He retorted.

“it is.”

“Then it is correct.”

Did Viktor really only have one-size-fits all for each single prosthesis?

She shook her head slightly, brows knitted as the gears turned inside her head. She could see where Viktor was coming from, by working with standard models he could attend to a larger number of people in less time. Tailoring each design individually was simply not time-efficient, despite the boost in quality for each piece. Not to mention, to most people the standard design would suffice.

But how about these edge cases such as Wenn's? If they give him the standard module, he'd be back in two weeks or less for maintenance, or replacement altogether. Sure, they'd be making his life better, but only slightly. Wouldn't this be considered inefficient?

Her eyes traveled back to Viktor, and something clicked. Viktor and Jayce were brilliant scientists whose sharp minds worked meticulously to solve complex problems. But she noticed early on in their partnership that they more often than not lacked the ability to perceive what the problems were in the first place.

“We were analyzing some of your data and we came across the fact that the average commute time for those who come topside to work varies from two to three hours during rush,” Jayce began, running his index over the papers in front of him. It had been a couple of months since the partnership between the Undercity Development Section and the HexTech Research Division began, the Ventilation System project was already underway. The pair of scientists had pulled the architect aside as soon as she arrived at the lab that morning, seemingly eager to show her how serious they were. At least that's the vibe she was getting from Jayce. “And we were brainstorming some ideas for a faster and more robust Public Transportation System using HexTech.”

Jayce rolled out a parchment paper in front of them with a map of the Undercity. On top of it, he placed a translucent sheet of butter paper. Then, he grabbed a marker and started sketching on top of it. The girl leaned in closer.

“We noticed that the existing lift's engine is rather old, and demanded that the ascension was done as horizontally as possible,” Viktor chimed in as his partner sketched. Her eyes met his golden ones for a brief second before returning to the paper before them in a fluster. She was still digesting why the leaner scientist had such an effect on her. “This resulted in a longer route between the Undercity Terminal and the Topside Terminal. And that in itself already largely adds to the commute time. So we moved the whole system to a location in which the distance between the terminals is the shortest, since building the new lift vertically is not a problem anymore.”

She studied Jayce's croquis on the translucent paper for a second, before calmly bringing her index finger to it and tapping on a location on the map. “This district right here has historically been formed by people who go to work Topside. It grew organically around the terminal,” she spoke calmly. “These are the people we'd be affecting by tackling this problem. If we move the system to the other side, even if technologically and logistically seems more efficient, we're failing to address the practical effect of such a change.”

She took a marker from Jayce and began scribbling on the paper as she spoke.

“Nowadays, the people start gathering at the Terminal around 4 am. They leave their houses and are promptly met with a line to get to the lift,” she wrote down ‘4 am’ and ‘house -> terminal’. “If we move the system here, all these people would have to find a way to go from their houses to the terminal, adding time and fatigue to the commute. Especially to those carrying wares, goods and tools with them. We'd need to address that.”

She finished writing down all points on the paper, before setting the pen aside. Then, she leaned back where she sat, meeting the scientist's gaze. “Your plan might be the most efficient time-wise, but it wouldn't be solving the problem. I'd suggest building the new system near that district, even if that means sacrificing some of its efficiency. The problem was not simply shortening travel time between Topside and the Undercity, but rather bringing more quality to the existing commute.”

She sighed at the memory, a little twinge of longing constricting her chest. She quickly shook it off, this wasn't the time for sentimentality. Her gaze lingered on the schematics a bit, before turning to the Herald with newfound resolution. If the goal was to aid the people of Zaun, then the magic in her marbled arm was not the only tool at her disposal. She needed to address his methods as an academic peer.

When Wenn left the Workshop, she pounced without hesitation.

“He's gonna be back here in need of maintenance in a couple of days,” she spat, looking down at the schematics.

The Herald stopped in his tracks. She felt the glow of his eyes on her, but didn’t turn to him. “How would you know that?”

“Didn't you hear? He's a courier,” she retorted. “The exertion of his line of work is bound to damage the structure of the prosthesis. Rather quickly even, I'd wager.”

The Herald didn't respond right away. Instead, he slowly made his way to her side. His focus on the schematics in front of her.

“In the assessments, are you taking into consideration the lives of who you help?”

“I don't pry much outside of the measurements,” he stated calmly, almost in a whisper. “I see what you are suggesting, but working with a template is far more efficient than tailoring each piece individually.”

“I don't disagree with that on a theoretical level, but do we have data on returning patients? Those with need for maintenance or replacement altogether?”

The Herald paused. “No.”

She finally turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “Then we don't know at what rate we're helping new people compared to returning ones,” she concluded. “Nor do we have data regarding what caused certain types of damage in returning patient's prosthesis, I presume?”

Another beat. “Correct.”

The silence lingered between them. She kept her eyes on him expectantly. With the mask, it was impossible to read him.

“I was focused solemnly in helping the largest number of people in the most efficient way possible,” he stated finally. “I failed to acknowledge those points.”

Although spoken in a dull, flattened manner, his words spoke of regret. She could almost hear Viktor instead of the Herald. Her hand reached for the metal on his shoulder on instinct.

“You were doing what you thought best,” her words were soft. “Besides, it doesn't matter how big that brain of yours is. You're still a single person who tasked himself with this gargantuar endeavor of helping the people of Zaun. Something was bound to slip past you.”

He finally faced her and she thanked the gods for his mask. She'd unravel where she stood if she was to meet his face bare at this proximity. She quickly cleared her throat.

“I was thinking we could pinpoint the most prominent use cases and expand our line of templates,” she proposed. “That way we avoid having to tailor each prosthesis we make from scratch while also addressing the issue at hand. It's not perfect, but I believe it's a good improvement. I might not have the documents here, but I have some information of the average Zaunite jobs and occupation as well as geological differences from when I worked at the UDS.”

“Perhaps I've… forgotten the benefits of intellectual collaboration,” the Herald contemplated. “That is a truly elegant solution.”

“Glad I could help, I'll jot down the information I can recall and I'll get you the notes later,” she responded, taking a step back. “I'll go get some water before the afternoon patients start rolling in.”

In truth, she needed some breather from the whole interaction. The Herald was dangerously close to becoming Viktor and she couldn't allow herself to spiral. She was at the foot of the staircase when the Herald spoke again.

“I was hoping you would join me later tonight so we can design the new templates,” he proposed. “Work together, as we once did.”

She froze in place, her back turned to him. Her marbled arm pulsated with warmth with the rhythm of her heartbeat. The interval between them getting shorter as his words registered. She was already pushing her limits by taking the morning assessments with him, - doubling the amount of time she spent in his presence - and that alone was already taking its toll. Working with him at night would triple it. She couldn't possibly do it.

“Yeah, I think that's reasonable.”

Her words betrayed her.

—--

If she was asked to describe at least one of the patients that passed through the workshop that afternoon, she wouldn't be able to do it. She went through the motions absentmindedly, completely engulfed inside her own mind, dreading the last third of the day.

Why would she agree to his proposal? Was it another facet of the guilt she felt at his betrayal? Was it the sense of duty to the Zaunites in need? Was a product of the self-loathing she harbored throughout all the months she believed he was dead? Was it a combination of all of that?

Or better yet, was it a foolish hope of rekindling something between them through intellectually collaborating on a project, like it happened the first time? Even though he is not capable of feeling anymore?

Whatever the reason behind it was, her fate was sealed.

Despite that, she still took all means necessary to stall her return to the basement. As soon as the last afternoon patient was gone, she excused herself to freshen up. After splashing water on her face more times than necessary, she made a quick detour to the kitchen to brew some coffee. Only then, holding a mug in each hand, did she finally make her way back down.

She found the Herald where she left him - sitting in front of his desk, bathed in the purplish glow of the HexCore. With a long exhale, she made her way towards him.

“Here, unbearably sweet,” she said, placing one of the coffee mugs in front of him. “Just the way you like it.’

The Herald turned to her and her heart sank when golden pupils swimming in dark scleras met her gaze. She had failed to notice his metal mask sitting next to the core on the desk.

“Thank you, although I’d rather have it black,” Viktor spoke in his own accented voice. “Sugar adds nothing but empty calories.”

This was still the Herald. He was just wearing Viktor's skin.

She stood rigidly beside him, putting as much distance from him as possible at the current setting. She kept her eyes low, opting to focus on the schematics in front of him instead of his face. But the space between them felt heavy, his very presence pulled her in and pushed her away simultaneously. It made the coffee she sipped go down like sandpaper. This was not going to work.

“You spoke earlier of information on the average jobs and occupations of the denizens of Zaun,” the Herald spoke without looking at her.

“Ah,” She gasped, snapping out of her thoughts. “That's right.”

Her eyes quickly scanned the desk, spotting a blank piece of paper and dragging it to the space between them. Next, she grabbed a pen, uncapped it, and leaned the tip onto the paper. “Okay, so this is what I remember.”

She started narrating everything she could recollect, annotating it as she went. She scrambled her brain for information, and for each piece recalled, the neural path to the next one unfolded. In her head she could picture the Zaun of another time, when it still was simply known as Piltover's Undercity. The hum of the machinery and pipework vastly drowned out by the cacophony of everyday life. The thick air laced with the smells of the fishery, combined with the fumes of the factories and the sickly-sweet aroma of chemicals. The brief amounts of sunlight hitting the underground at noon when the sun was at its zenith, passing through like an eclipse. The neon artificial lights flooding the streets for the remainder of the day.

Each new canvas her mind painted brought forth a description of how the citizens lived, how each human was a product of their environment. And how they molded it and were molded by it.

It was chaos. Flawed. In dire need of quality for its resident’s life. But oh, so beautiful.

“I have forgotten how elucidative you could be when explaining your craft,” the Herald's voice brought her back to reality. The dim light of the Workshop felt more oppressive as her surroundings came back into focus.

“I uh- Thank you,” she responded sheepishly.

“I am serious. My mind is already brimming with a handful of design solutions from your explanation alone,” he continued. “Although I believe it is rather late and I’d like to let those ideas simmer down as I sleep.”

“Late?” She glanced at the wall clock and silently gasped. No less than three hours had passed since she began her lecture. Any semblance of the worries from before, gone.

Maybe this could work after all.

-----

Also on AO3

#viktor arcane #arcane viktor #viktor #viktor x reader #arcane #arcane viktor x reader #arcane x reader #viktor my beloved #viktor lol #mischie writing

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dunmeshistash · 10 months ago

Note

Hey im @holmsister tumblr is tumbling as usual.

About the Maizuru complaint and bad faith interpretation: I feel the same way about POC in this fandom. I didn't really engage in fandoms that have many canon POC because most of my reading in the last years has been historical and classical European lit and nonfiction so like. The racism is baked into the source so to speak. AND im super white so im not going to try and speak out of turn. But moving into a fandom for a recent work of art in which there are important characters of colour has been... enlightening (derogatory). Also not naming names, but the way white characters are extended grace for things the POC are criticised extensively is... enlightening (derogatory). Maizuru, being at the intersection of being a woman and POC, is obviously going to get the brunt of it. Especially because yeah, she's not exactly a pleasant character - yeah, the way she treats the other retainers is not nice. But she is basically a sex slave. Like we can mince our words as much as we like, add in everything about how she is clearly being well-treated and not resentful, etc etc, but she's there to entertain Nakamoto and she can't say no if he comes to her room. All of her privileges are dependent on her pleasing him. That doesn't mean that she can't be abusive in her own right - but like. How old was she when she was taken in by Nakamoto? She's been around since Toshiro was little, remember? Hell, her obsession with being a good retainer with Toshiro might be a way to safely "escape" Nakamoto - after all, if she's following Toshiro around, she's not in her parlour waiting for his father's next visit, and if Toshiro, who has no interest in her, became the next head of the household, she would be allowed to live out her last years in peace. Like this is speculation of course, but it's based on what we know of the character in much the same way any other speculation is - I'm choosing to give her the benefit of the doubt the same way I do for example Laios choosing to join the army.

Sorry for the vent, it's just. The complexity of the characters is a good thing! Stop trying to find a bad guy, you're missing the point! (And showing your ass in the process). everyone has complex motivations!

Truly, people hate nuance and it seems like internalized misogyny and racism amplifies that.

I feel like at least for the racism one there's more awareness and people speak more about it? But I usually see misogyny arguments being dismissed a lot more so I got specially angy at it.

I guess I wanted to find a reason outside misogyny to justify how people treated these character's cause I've seen lots of people being mad about that before about other characters and even thinking myself "It's surely not that bad/widespread, this character is the one that sucks" but when you have a more general view of reactions it becomes painfully obvious.

Thankfully I didn't see the racism against Toshiro (maybe cause I barely post about him) but I can only imagine.

#dunmeshi complaint #holmsister

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popponn · 2 years ago

Text

the ins and outs. [itoshi rin x reader]

notes: for some reason, i really have a hard time with writting rin. but in the end, he feels like a sincere person. so i think it's hard for me not to get soft on him. i want to write more of him. think of this as an attempt to imagine how he will love. headcanon-ish, character study-ish. gn!reader.

Rin loves in a very complicated way.

He loves deeply, yet there is always a trace of childishness in it. He loves silently, yet sometimes his actions speak so loudly it might be noted as ‘too much’ by some people. He loves in a way that is hard to understand by many, perhaps even by himself.

Rin’s heart is a rough, rigid thing that is very hard to slip into. But the moment you get inside it, your name and everything will be etched into it forever. And perhaps it’s because of that too, Rin is not exactly the most knowledgeable whenever it comes to feelings, emotions, and such as. There are very few things and even fewer people that he let into his life, so it becomes unsurprising to see him struggles to process something as soft and unpredictable like love.

There is a chapter in his life where Rin was filled with anger that resembles obsession. In a way, that part of him would always have remains. When that chapter came to a close and his life moves on to a chapter that is filled with a gentler kind of emotion, where a simple smile from you makes Rin wishes he is kinder—he reacts to it with a grace of a fish on a dessert.

It’s hard to miss it when he is interested in you—Rin’s insults and harsh comments lacking the bite they usually carry whenever it’s you, Rin bothering to listen to you without interrupting, Rin almost actively seeking out your company—whether by purpose or not, he is good and clear when it comes to giving the signal. His team is not exactly helping with their teasing and indiscreet attempted advices either. It’s so obvious it almost feels like seeing a middle school boy having his first crush.

But, it definitely starts really awkward. Rin genuinely tries to be kinder to you, yet the fact that he is a seasoned egoist that is very hard to approach and to socialize with still stand. For one, he gets jealous a bit too easily sometimes, all while having a hard time communicating with you. Combined with his tendency to spit out words that are both scathing and hurting, the first few steps with him is, without a doubt, really hard.

Nevertheless, once those first steps are done, it get much easier. Rin is a quick learner when he wants to be, especially when it comes to something or someone he has his focus honed into. Perhaps even faster than how you learn his, Rin will learn the rhythm to keep going with you. While it will take extra efforts to talk and get through him, the moment he gets it, it took him almost a terrifyingly short amount of time to know the dos and don’ts. Though, acting on them might take a little bit of time. Practice makes perfect after all.

And on communication, there might even be signs, which many people could easily miss, that act almost like a secret language between you and him. Rin glancing at you repeatedly during a conversation? He is getting uncomfortable. Rin staring at you silently somewhere private? He wants to be spoiled. Rin not responding whenever you get touchy with him? That’s his green light, go hug or hold him however you want, he is all yours. ‘Words’ are not exactly Rin’s expertise—and it might take him a pretty long time to learn—but, eventually, this is a man who is ready to give many, many things including his best for you.

Starting out with Rin is hard, but when he decides he is for you—he will do everything in his power to make sure it will be the best choice for both of you.

#bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock scenarios #blue lock x reader #blue lock headcanons #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock rin itoshi #bllk rin #im facing a block and deadlines but i itch to write #there is something about this guy that is hard for me but i think im getting somewhere #might expand this later someday after deadline is done #drabbles #blue lock imagines

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the-head-ancho-chilli · 2 years ago

Text

Demon Slayer Characters and if I Think They Can Walk in Heels

I SWEAR IM NOT DEAD

Now that I’ve moved into my new place, I’m just trying to get some stuff sorted out so apologies for the delay, I swear I’m working on your requests T_T

In the meantime, here’s this post that I finished a few days ago that I started during finals season

Enjoy!

Word count: 1.4k~

Part 1 (you're here!), Part 2 (coming soon), Part 3 (coming soon)

Modern au-ish...

Mitsuri Kanroji

She doesn't really wear heels unless she's going out somewhere

Mitsuri will wear heels if you take her to a club, a date, a restaurant, and any other nicer event

But honestly, she prefers running shoes!

They're convenient, comfortable, and they tend to match their outfits more often than not

Do not get me wrong, Mitsuri can definitely rock a pair of heels

I would say that the highest she can go is six inch heels and that's it

Anymore than that and she's wobbling

Mitsuri's favourite pair of heels is a knee high gladiator sandal that's all gold, and maube about 4-5 inches high?

It pairs lovely with her favourite dresses and skirts, especially when she's going out of her way to turn a few heads

I also think that she's the most graceful out of everyone here

Overall 9/10 she absolutely slays this

Obanai Iguro

He thinks it's stupid that he needs to clarify this at all

Can Obanai walk in heels? Without a doubt

Your next question should be if Obanai chooses to wear heels

And shockingly, he does

I think that Obanai will sometimes wear a two inch loafer heel just for some added height

Hella confident in them too, look at him go

Obanai will totally wear them to work, class, or anywhere he feels like putting on a little bit of effort into what he's wearing

I think on more fancier occasions, like a high end date or club, he might wear some pointed toe stilettos with a nice pair of slacks

Honestly he's not really one to exclude heels from his wardrobe, he's just weirded out by how fascinated people are on this topic

8/10, nailed it

Tengen Uzui

Do I think Tengen can wear heels? I know for a fact he can

But I just think that he never does because he can never find any in his size

Poor guy

To be fair, this man is fucking huge

I even have problems finding boots that fit my calves, deep down in my heart I know that Tengen has it so much worse

Cause even if he manages to find something that fits his foot, it might not fit the rest of his leg

He's actyally really devestated about it

All he wants is a nice pair of pumps to match Hina, Suma and Makio

And maybe a pair of lobster claws...

3/10, a slay in theory but not in practice

I WILL GIVE HIM THIS, if he manages to pay for a custom pair of heels, he will probably rival with Mitsuri in who looks the best in heels

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He says he can walk in heels

But I assure you, he cannot

I think that Sanemi is lowkey intimidated by the results of the other Hashira on this list and now he's in too deep to back down

So when asked if he can wear heels, he will lie to your face

"Obviously, you think I'm gonna allow a pair of shoes to get the best of me?"

Sanemi, you've got a big storm coming

All his machoness goes away the second that he puts them on

Why is he walking with his knees out...

He's not even wearing stilettos, no

Sanemi's wearing three inch cork wedges

They don't really suit his style so he'll never go out of his way to wear them

I think after embarassing himself like this, he's never going to want to learn how to walk in them

-2/10 Sanemi you fucked around and found out huh

Shinobu Kocho

Can absolutely strut in six inch heels no problem

I think that Shinobu wears heels often, especially if she's going to be out in public where she is certain she's going to encounter someone she knows

But I don't think she enjoys wearing them

In some way I think Shinobu wears heels on a semi-daily basis to compensate for her short stature

She wants to be on equal standing with others and in a way, this is her way fo tring to achieve that

Two inch boots aren't going to stop her from being taken seriously

She does try to find some light in her circimustance though

Her favourite pair are these cute mary janes, and she has another pair with a platform sole

So even if you see her wearing heels, please don't mistake that she finds them powerful to wear

It's more of a social thing really

7/10, I wish she had a better experience :/

Kyojuro Rengoku

I am going to say this as nicely as I can

Please be patient with him, he's learning T_T

He can still get to where he needs to go, he just looks a little unstable???

Kyojuro would really appreciate if you held his hand a little

Though I will say, he is enthusiastic about learning!

In a few months he can probably walk just fine in them

I don't think that he would wear them to work or on a date, but he might if he's going to a particular event where you try to look better than usual

Like a high end club or exclusive event, he'll probably wear something classy

I think his go to is wither a pair of corset heels or high blocks

Obanai is lowkey jealous because Kyojuro doesn't really need the extra hight

4/10, keep up the hard work :)

Giyu Tomioka

My first instinct was to immediately put Giyu on the 'Not Allowed' list

A hunch just told me that he would somehow cause more trouble if he wore any

But I considered it further and came to this conlcusion

Giyu can and will walk in heels, just nothing above three inches

He tried walking in four inch platforms and he was nearly tripping every two minutes

And if Tengen sees him exiting his apartment wearing them again he will not hesitate to put those things back where they came from

Giyu does like wearing heels though, even if he's not allowed to wear very high ones

Only wears them if he's going to a club though

His favourite pair is a professional looking pair of blue, beige and black slingbacks with a three inch heel

5/10, but he's walking on thin ice

Gyomei Himejima

I don't think that Gyomei could walk in heels smoothly, but he can certainly get from point A to B

He just can't do it gracefully

If Gyomei walks in heels, he won't ever admit that he's struggling and he'll insist that he's walking just fine

But he has his arms outstretched like he's walking on a tightrope

It's honestly just not his thing, and I don't think he would be able to incorporate it with his current wardrobe

Even if he had the desire to learn, I think he would hear the struggle that Tengen's going through and just give up

He already has to go on a lengthy search to find anything to fit him regularly, let alone a pair of heels

2/10 I can't say I would recommend this for him, no

Muichiro Tokito

You know those pictures of kids wearing their mom's heels?

And their foot barely fits in the shoe?

And they just look so awkwardly out of place?

That's Muichiro

Poor baby

I think he has some growing to do before he's going to learn how to walk in them

But Muichiro definitely wants to learn!

Given how his sense of style is usually baggy or loose fitting clothes, I can see him maybe going to Obanai for style advice in the future

Probably nothing high or flashy either, just probably a pair of classy heeled boots

I just don't think it's for him right now, at his current stature

Muichiro just looks a little bit out of place in them right now though...

1/10, maybe when you're a bit older buddy

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

Thanks for reading! I have two more parts of this prompt with the slayers and demons so I should be sending that out in a while. I’m also working on a Kyojuro request and I’m hoping to have it out soon, so stay tuned lovelies ^^

Also thank you all for 200 followers, I swear I’ll work harder so I can post more often! I’ll be working on some requests in the meantime :)

Asks and requests are still open, just please read the rules before submitting anything ;)

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer blog #kny blog #kny scenarios #demon slayer headcanons #kny headcanons #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #hashira x reader #upper moons x reader #demon slayer scenarios #demon slayer upper moons #kamaboko squad #demon slayer hashira #demon slayer pillars

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burnthoneydrops · 3 months ago

Text

What Time Has Done (Part XIV) Benedict Bridgerton x Original Character Series

Synopsis: Two plans are afoot, but which one will lead our young lovers to victory?

Requested: no

Warnings: anxiety (?), just big emotions

Word Count: 2729

series masterlist

a/n: heyyyyyy....how yall doing? my sincerest apologies for how long its been but i recently got the spark to write again so i hope someone still enjoys!

A few days have passed since Benedict promised to take my burden as his own and I have yet to hear a word. Following Whistledown’s announcement of our shame to the entire ton, Mama sent us all into hiding again, lest we be berated by other vicious mamas. I am starting to believe there are circles forming in my carpet from the amount of laps I’ve done trying to pass my window in the hopes that I might see someone come to our rescue. As relieved as I felt that finally someone else knew the truth, it also came with the feeling of dread that now I had more reasons to be worried about the current situation. Papa and Mama, though not sharing a room together quite yet, spent a lot of time in hushed conversation with each other, no doubt trying to find a way to relieve us of our heavy debt. The only people to grace our doorstep of late were the men carrying letters to and from our home and every time I get my hopes up that Benedict has written some comforting thing and each time I am disappointed.

Sitting on my bed, I hear footsteps scurry up to my door and just past it. They come to a halt, turning around and stopping in front of my door, casting a shadow of small shoes that I can see through the crack. There is no knock, and I can see the small pair of feet hesitating to make their next move. I bite the bullet, calling out a “hello?”, to which the door opens and Madeline makes herself known. She holds her bottom lip between her teeth and her hands are wringing together endlessly. The rims of her eyes are red and her eyebrows are furrowed. The sheer amount of emotion in her little body breaks my heart.

“Madeline, what is it love?” I pat the empty spot on the bed next to me and she takes no time running up and jumping to take the place.

She says nothing, just buries her head in my side as I wrap an arm around her, pulling her securely under my shoulder. I hear a shudder of breath and I realize that she has begun to cry. Whatever emotion she carried with her down the hallway has decided to spill out, and I squeeze her that bit tighter.

“What is wrong Madeline? We cannot fix what ails you if you keep it to yourself”.

“I hate it!” She exclaims, bashing a fist on my duvet.

“Hate what?”

“I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!” She exclaims again, causing quite the dent in my bedding for such a little fist.

“My love, look at me please,” I release her from the guard of my arm and grab the sides of her face lightly so she may look at me. Her eyes are wet and her lower lip has started to quiver and I fear she can hear the sound of my heart splitting in half.

“I hate that Mummy and Daddy do not smile at each other, I hate that Andrew hasn’t looked at me and I hate that I cannot see my friends! I hate being stuck here!” I am now aware of my own lower lip starting to tremble as Madeline pulls her face away from my hands. I cast my glance at my bedding in hopes of masking my tears but I fear it is pointless when I hear Madeline’s unabashed sobs. The pain of my family had not escaped me since this whole ordeal had seen the light but I had been so wrapped up in my own form of pity that I had not taken the time to properly care.

“I am so sorry Madeline, I was not aware you had acquired such pain,” I mutter through tears. “It is my fault, it is entirely my fault,” I try to give her a hug but she merely runs out of my room and down the hall, leaving me to cry on my own.

At the Bridgerton House

Benedict had spent much of the last few days wracking his brain for ways he could help alleviate some of Emmeline’s burden and he had not eaten or slept much because of it. It was a relief that Anthony knew of the whole ordeal so any transactions made in favour of it would not have to be kept hidden but Benedict could not help feeling like this was his solution to bring forth. If he hadn’t been aware of it before, Benedict had quickly come to despise the ache in his heart, the gaping hole that Miss Castillon had left. Knowing the truth of the matter somehow only made it worse as he knew she blamed herself for it entirely. Seeing her in such pain was something he never wanted to witness again and he swore he would never if he could help it.

Benedict sits uncomfortably in the chair where he normally sketches, running his hands over his face as he glances out the window, hoping it would bring him some sudden illumination. As if the universe could hear him, his mother walked in, the creaking of the door giving her away.

“Benedict my dear, can I speak with you for a moment?” She questions, not moving much past the door.

“Surely you will speak whether I consent or not,” he mutters with a dismissive wave of his hand. Then, taking a moment to consider what he has just said, “apologies, Mother, recent events have made me weary”.

“I can imagine,” she sympathizes. “Though I fear you are overcomplicating the matter”.

“Whatever can you mean?”

“You love this woman, do you not?” She looks expectantly at her son.

“I…we had never declared it…” he notices her raised brow, “yes, yes I believe I do”.

“And does Miss Castillon share your affection?”

“Selfishly I like to think she does,” then, upon remembering a previous conversation, “yes, she does”.

“Then what you must do seems clear,” Lady Bridgerton seems satisfied, as if whatever truth she thinks she has unveiled is as obvious to everyone else. Benedict ponders for a moment, not wanting to question his mother further but also trying to find the hidden meaning in her words.

“Oh for pity’s sake, you must marry her!”

Benedict��s eyes widen, searching his mother’s for any sign of jest. When he finds none, he lowers his head for a second, the idea of proposing to Emmeline sinking further into his skin. Of course there is a part of him that wanted to propose to her long ago, or maybe skip the engagement all together and simply run away from the prying eyes of the ton. But with the idea being brought out of his head and into the open, he suddenly couldn’t fathom it.

“What if she feels it is out of a sense of obligation? I could not do that to her! I could not have her believe that I would want to force her into a loveless marriage,” Benedict sighs.

“But if your feelings are true, then they will show through instantly. The circumstances leave much to be desired, certainly, but true love has risen above worse. It will be worth it”.

Benedict looks up, making eye contact with his mother as his heart starts to race. He could propose to Emmeline this very minute and solve both of their problems. Hers, the debt and his the heartache. Christ, why had he not thought of it before!

Castillon Residence

Marie insists on getting me ready each more for some sense of normality but I cannot say I am any help. I merely sit, anxiously twiddling my thumbs and unable to make eye contact with just about anyone. Whatever decisions she presses toward me I mutter, yes, and hope that she will pick between the dress colour or the hairstyle for the day. I dare not make another decision, lest that should sink my family further into ruin too. It is not as if there is anything to get ready for either, for we have not been invited to any social events since Lady Whistledown aired our news. We wouldn’t have attended anyway, and I suppose it feels better not to have to reject any offers. I do nothing but read in my room or attempt to write sad prose in an effort to vent my emotions, but it is not long before my brain switches to more anxiety inducing efforts. What if Benedict had not truly meant his wishes to help? What if he had seen how I was not worth the effort and had in fact found an easier debutante to court? What if his mother had suggested he not involve himself so that they could avoid the scandal as well? I would not blame him if he had, and I do not want to think ill of him but with nothing else to occupy my thoughts, what else am I to do?

Since Madeline’s emotional revelation, the rest of the family seems hesitant to interact with me other than awkward pleasantries and pitied looks. Marie is truly the only one to actually speak to me as if I am a member of the house and I cannot return the same kindness. I feel stuck in this loop of sadness and anxiety in a hole that I dug myself. If only I had not forced Papa into that deal, then we would not be in this situation to begin with. Tired of sitting in front of the window, hoping for some saving grace to break through the glass, I turn to my writing desk instead, drawing out a paper and ink set in the slowest movements possible.

Dear Benedict,

I realise it has been only days since your visit, but I wanted to make it known how much I regret bringing you into this mess of mine. It is not, nor has it ever been, my intention to bring shame to you or your family, and though I thank you for your promise of assistance, I also understand if your desire has shifted. Should you have moved on for the sake of better prospects, know that I do not hold it against you and wish you all the joy and happiness in the world.

Your dearest friend, Emmeline C.

Handing the letter off to Marie in the hopes that it would sneak in our limited communications, I wipe my cheek with the other hand, hoping the wetness that had clung there is not too obvious. When Marie returns, she informs me that my parents are requesting my presence downstairs.

“They told me no details miss, only that they require you straight away”.

“Well, I suppose I should be glad that someone still wishes to speak to me. Except you, Marie; you have continued to be a dear friend and I fear I have not thanked you enough for it”.

She smiles, waving her hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it miss, it is only my pleasure”.

With a small smile and a grateful nod, I make my way down the stairs. The halls are eerily quiet and I cannot help the small glances in hopes that a sibling will come barreling down in joyous laughter. Of course, that is not the case at present and I feel like the only person in the house as I go to join my parents in the drawing room. Upon turning into the doorway, Mama and Papa stand up from their seat on the couch, and Papa has a few letters gripped aggressively in his fist. Mama looks proud as she greets me, offering a small hug before gesturing for me to sit across from them. A sinking feeling appears in my stomach, as her seemingly sudden change in attitude has me on edge.

“Now my dear, we know it has recently been hard on you-” Papa starts, but Mama looks eager to interject.

“But we have found a solution!” She all but exclaims, bringing her hands together on her lap as if she cannot contain herself any other way. Papa looks slightly uneasy, and I try and wordlessly beg him for a quick answer. I am not granted such ease.

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

Bridgerton Residence

“It seems like you are set on this matter,” Anthony looks at Benedict with a close-lipped smile.

“I am. I had worried about it before, but Mother convinced me it is the right way forward,” he replies, pouring another glass of brandy for them both.

“Then to the success of your courting,” Colin raises a glass, winking at his brother in support.

“To the success indeed,” Anthony adds as the knocking of three glasses sounds through the room.

“Let us hope your intended sees similarly about the whole ordeal to you,” Colin says as they each take a seat.

“I believe she will. Once we get past the uncertainty of it all, I believe Emmeline will share my affections, bringing relief to us all”.

“Yes, then perhaps we can stop finding pieces of her inanimate form on the floor,” Anthony jests at Benedict’s abundance of sketches of the young woman.

The three laugh and talk amongst themselves, sipping on celebratory drinks while two of the brothers pester for any ideas on how the wedding will go. Benedict mutters something about leaving it up to their mother before adding, “I would marry her in an abandoned field, or in our living room even. The details do not matter to me, but she deserves better. Besides, Mama will have my head if she does not get a say in the marriage of her children”.

“Benedict,” Eloise pokes her head through the door, “there’s a letter here for you”. She hands him the enclosed document as he quickly rips the envelope open. Recognising the handwriting, he cannot tell whether to be joyful or anxious at Emmeline writing to him during such a time. As he quickly scans the page, he finds the latter to be a more fitting emotion, and the concern of his siblings grows solely in response to the look on his face. He passes the letter to Anthony, who scans it with the same intensity, only to pass it to Colin upon completion.

“She feels I have neglected her…forgotten about her in some way,” Benedict sighs with a large amount of air, his hands running fervently through his face and hair.

“She simply worries for the implications of her current affairs. Any person in her position would do the same,” Anthony tries to calm his brother down.

“She means to provide some relief to you both, should things not go as planned,” Colin adds, reading the letter again before handing it to Eloise.

“Perhaps she-” “If you are about to rant about the downfalls of marriage, I urge you to hold your tongue,” Anthony whips his head around to Eloise, where she stands stunned. Never had any of her brothers been so serious with her and she immediately closes her mouth again.

Benedict could not look at any of them for long, as his shoes undoubtedly run a hole into the ground with his incessant pacing. What was meant to be a celebratory evening had come to a halt and the other three Bridgertons share a concerned look between them before facing their brother again.

“Surely this just means your plans may need to hasten along?” Eloise tries again.

“I had been trying to plan a near perfect proposal, but if she harbours any doubts of my character or intention, I must squash those immediately”.

“Go to her in the morning, for if you leave now you run the risk of rejection from her mother for calling at an indecent hour,” Anthony reasons.

“But I cannot leave her to feel such shame any longer!” Benedict cries.

“You know how against visitors they are at the moment, it would be better to wait! You would face less obstacles if you went at proper visiting time,” Colin agrees with Anthony.

“Fine, first thing tomorrow then,” Benedict replies after some hesitation. Eloise crosses to him and holds his elbow in her hands, getting him to pause in his physical loops.

“You’ve waited this long, what is one more night?” She asks, giving him a hopeful smile.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #whattimehasdone #bridgerton x female! reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x original character #anthony bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #the viscount who loved me #the duke and i #an offer from a gentleman

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knoepfl · 2 months ago

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Hello! I hope you are well. I absolutely adored your Bobble fic it was so freaking cute. Sadly there are not enough writers who write for him. I never requested an imagine so I hope it is okay if I ask you if you could write another Bobble fic. Maybe where he likes y/n but is too shy to admit it because he thinks he is not good enough (maybe because she is not a Tinker or whatever you like). And his friends have to encourage him to confess and a sweet kiss scene at the end! If you don't want to do it then it's fine, I understand :)

Greetings from Germany ^.^

Heyy! Thank you so much for this request! I love writing for Bobble and I do not really have any ideas anymore so I'm very happy to see people like him. ^^ I had a lot of fun writing this and I also feel very special to know I'm the first one to recieve a request from you and to know I have people from Germany who like my writing! I'm also from Germany so I say: vielen Dank und ich hoffe du schreibt noch mehr Ideen! <3

Shy and Sweet

Characters:

• Bobble – A shy and inventive Tinker Fairy who struggles with self-doubt but is deeply caring and devoted. He expresses his feelings through his inventions rather than words.

• Reader (Garden Fairy) – A kind, warm-hearted Garden Fairy with a love for plants and a gentle, shy nature. She admires Bobble but fears she is imagining his feelings.

• Tinker Bell – Bobble’s supportive but slightly mischievous friend who pushes him to confess his feelings. She acts as a motivator and comic relief.

• Clank – Bobble’s best friend, well-meaning but not very subtle. Encourages Bobble and adds humor to the story.

Trigger Warnings:

• Low self-esteem/Self-doubt – Bobble struggles with feelings of inadequacy, believing he is not good enough for the Garden Fairy.

• Mild anxiety – Both characters experience nervousness and insecurity when confessing their feelings.

• Mentions of spying (for comedic effect) – Tinker Bell and Clank eavesdrop on Bobble’s confession, though it is portrayed humorously.

Masterlist

Words: 1454

---- Bobble had always believed that every fairy had a purpose. Tinker fairies built, fixed, and invented—working behind the scenes to ensure Pixie Hollow functioned smoothly. That was his role, and he loved it.

But when it came to her, the fairy he admired more than anything, he felt completely and utterly useless.

She wasn’t a Tinker. She was a Garden Fairy, full of warmth and grace, with soil-stained hands that somehow made her even more beautiful. Every time she laughed, it was like the first light of dawn breaking through the trees. Bobble had never been very good with words, but if he could build something to capture the way she made him feel, it would be the most delicate, most breathtaking invention he had ever created.

The problem was… he wasn’t brave enough to tell her.

And so, he showed his feelings in the only way he knew how.

Whenever she struggled with something—like carrying heavy bags of seeds or finding a way to water delicate sprouts without crushing them—Bobble would show up with an invention. A specially crafted seed dispenser, a tiny sprinkler that mimicked raindrops, a sun-powered lantern for her late-night gardening. Each time, she would smile so brightly at him, and he’d feel like his wings might stop working altogether.

But that was enough, right? Just seeing her happy?

At least, that’s what he told himself—until Tinker Bell found out.

“You like her?”

Bobble nearly dropped the handful of gears he had been holding. He turned to see Tinker Bell standing behind him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in knowing amusement.

“W-what? Who?” Bobble stammered, fumbling with his goggles.

Tink rolled her eyes. “Come on, Bobble. You’re always making her little gifts. You get all flustered whenever she’s around. You’re in love with her.”

Bobble swallowed hard. The words made his heart stutter.

“I-I wouldn’t say love, exactly,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… she’s amazin’, Tink. She’s got this way of makin’ everything feel brighter, like the whole of Pixie Hollow is just a wee bit warmer when she’s around.”

Tink’s expression softened. “So why haven’t you told her?”

Bobble sighed and turned back to his worktable, fiddling with a small, half-finished pendant made from tiny silver gears.

“Because she deserves someone… better.” His voice was quieter now. “Someone who knows how to say all the right things. Not just some clumsy Tinker with big glasses and—”

“Bobble.” Tinker Bell placed a firm hand on his shoulder, cutting him off. “You are good enough. She already likes you—you’re just too scared to see it.”

Bobble blinked at her. “You really think so?”

Tink smirked. “I know so.”

Clank, who had been listening in the background, suddenly clapped Bobble on the back so hard he nearly toppled over. “Go tell her, mate! Or I will!”

Bobble’s wings twitched nervously. Tell her?

Could he really do that?

That evening, as the sky melted into hues of pink and lavender, Bobble found her near the Pixie Dust Tree. She was kneeling by a patch of moonflowers, gently coaxing the delicate petals open with the soft glow of pixie dust.

His heart hammered in his chest.

“You always make that look so easy,” he said before he could lose his nerve.

She turned, smiling at him. “Bobble! What brings you here?”

He hesitated, then stepped forward, clutching the small pendant he had been working on all day.

“I, uh, I made somethin’ for you,” he said, holding it out with trembling fingers.

She took it carefully, eyes widening as she examined the intricate silver petals. “Bobble, it’s beautiful.”

Bobble swallowed hard. His pulse pounded in his ears. This was it.

“I—there’s somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ to say,” he admitted, voice shaking. “I—I like you. A lot. I have for a long time.”

Silence stretched between them. His hands clenched into fists, bracing for rejection.

But then, she smiled. That smile. The one that made him feel like he was flying even when his feet were on the ground.

“Oh, Bobble…” She stepped closer, reaching for his hands. “I like you too.”

Bobble’s breath hitched. “You do?”

Instead of answering, she leaned in, pressing a soft, warm kiss to his cheek.

His entire body went still. His wings fluttered wildly, his goggles nearly slipping off his nose. Somewhere in the distance, Clank let out a loud whoop, and Tink’s laughter rang through the air.

Bobble barely heard them. All he could focus on was the fairy in front of him, smiling at him, choosing him.

---

Bobble’s heart pounded as she pulled away, her soft lips still lingering on his cheek in the form of a warm, fluttery sensation. His wings twitched so fast he thought he might lift off the ground without meaning to.

She had kissed him.

She liked him.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. His brain had completely stopped working.

She must have noticed, because she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and let out a nervous little laugh. “U-um… was that okay?”

Bobble blinked rapidly, his face heating up. “Okay? I—uh—I mean, aye, it was more than okay! It was—” He let out a high-pitched laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—uh—wow.”

Her cheeks turned a soft pink as she fidgeted with the pendant he had given her. “I’ve been hoping you’d tell me how you felt for a while…” she admitted shyly, looking down at the little silver flower in her hands. “But I didn’t want to say anything first. I was worried maybe I was imagining it.”

Bobble’s jaw nearly dropped. “You were worried?”

She nodded, her wings fluttering nervously. “You’re so talented, Bobble. Always inventing these amazing things, helping everyone… I thought maybe you just saw me as a friend.”

Bobble felt like his heart might burst. “Oh, lass,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea.”

Before he could stop himself, he gently took her hands in his, squeezing them as he looked into her eyes. “I’ve liked you for so long. I just thought you deserved someone… someone better than a clumsy Tinker like me.”

She gasped softly, shaking her head. “Bobble, don’t say that.”

His breath hitched as she took a small step closer. “You’re kind,” she whispered. “And clever. And you always know how to make me smile.” Her fingers curled around his. “I don’t want someone else.”

Bobble felt like his wings had stopped working entirely.

Then, as if realizing how bold she had just been, she suddenly looked away, cheeks burning. “I-I mean, um… if you still like me, that is…”

Bobble let out a breathless chuckle, his heart swelling with adoration. “Aye. I still like you,” he murmured, barely believing this was real.

She peeked up at him through her lashes, and something about the way she looked—so shy, yet so happy—made Bobble’s heart skip a beat.

Before he could even think about it, he lifted her hand and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to her knuckles.

She gasped, eyes going wide, and Bobble immediately panicked. “Oh! Was that—was that too much? Did I—”

But she only giggled, hiding her face behind her hands as her wings fluttered wildly. “N-no! I just… I wasn’t expecting that…”

Bobble grinned, feeling a new sense of confidence bubble up in his chest. “Good surprise, then?”

She peeked at him through her fingers, her smile soft and full of warmth. “The best.”

A loud CRASH suddenly sounded from the bushes behind them, making both of them jump.

Bobble turned just in time to see Clank stumble out from behind a tree, looking sheepish. Tinker Bell hovered beside him, arms crossed, shaking her head.

“Oops,” Clank muttered, his large hands fumbling to straighten his vest. “Didn’t mean to fall outta the bush.”

Bobble groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Were you spyin’ on us?”

Tinker Bell smirked, not looking the least bit guilty. “Spying is a strong word. I’d call it… making sure you didn’t back out.”

Clank beamed. “And makin’ sure ya finally kissed!”

Bobble’s face turned bright red. “I didn’t kiss—” He stopped, glancing at the fairy beside him, who was now covering her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Tinker Bell raised an eyebrow. “Not yet.”

Bobble’s heart practically stopped. His eyes darted back to the girl next to him, and to his surprise, her own cheeks were red as well.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, shyly, hesitantly, she reached for his hand again.

Bobble’s breath caught.

And as she leaned in—closer, closer—he finally let his eyes flutter shut.

And when her lips softly brushed his, it was more magical than anything he could have ever invented. ----

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rottencaniness · 1 year ago

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// no doubt //

— for Angel, @spnyuri —

rating: mature || word count: 1k+ || ao3 link

tags: sam/ruby, season 4, demon blood addict sam, boy king of hell sam, minor character death/brief description of injury/death, angry sam

It's not that Ruby had planned on killing Dean, really she hadn't, but then he came at her with a knife and suddenly his neck was snapped per her demon powers. There's a recognized thought in the back of her mind that Sam is going to be pissed, upset, he's going to grieve all over again and it'll be hell all over again.

It's been a full year since Ruby showed up at Sam's motel room door with a hug about his dead brother and plan to get him to become just as powerful as he should be. Things have been working out marvelously- or they were- until some stupid Angel dragged Dean back up from hell and decided to throw a huge wrench in her plans, she has a mental note to kill him at some point. Sam's been drinking the demon blood to learn how to save more people, the nativity, but he's been doing what Ruby says so it's fine.

Only now she has his dead brother's body at her feet and about fifteen minutes to prepare for when Sam comes back from grabbing dinner for them all. She's been playing nice with Dean for Sam's sake. It hasn't been as hard as she assumed it'd be but it definitely hasn't been easy, she only wants Sam, she likes every little thing about him and could care less about what Dean does. He's also been severely blocking the more romantic part of Sam and Ruby's dynamic, Sam hasn't kissed her once in front of him, something she never thought she'd miss but longs for in a too desperate manner. She's a demon and shouldn't be this attached to a relationship with a human, but, this human is Sam Winchester soon-to-be-boy-king-of-hell, so she allows herself some grace.

She hefts Dean's body upwards and leans him back against the end of one of the motel beds, grimacing at how cold he's already become and the rather jarring dead person eyes staring back at her. How the fuck is she going to explain this? Get out of this? The knife Dean had tried to kill her with gets quickly kicked under the bed when she hears the rumble of the Impala pull into the parking lot, she does not need Sam trying to finish what Dean started.

"Sam! Sam, something's wrong with Dean!" The door gets thrown open and she yells out in the most frantic manner she can muster, she'll just lie her way out of this. Neither boy has ever been brought back to life before, she might be able to convince Sam that this was inevitable, as if Dean had a time limit to being alive again. His body isn't mangled and his head is still upright so it shouldn't be too hard to pull off.

"What happened?!" The bags of fast food get dropped onto the table in seconds as Sam's knees slam into the floor so he can be at his brother's level. His hands check Dean's pulse, going wide eyed when there isn't one, and he moves to push Dean to his back on the floor before starting compressions. They won't do anything.

"I- I don't know! He was fine and talking and then he just collapsed!" A pained noise leaves the back of Sam's throat and the compressions he's doing become slower, he obviously knows that he can't bring Dean back this time.

"Sam..." Ruby trails off with a hand on the center of Sam's back, a small frown on her lips when he turns to look at her with glossy eyes. No matter how demon she is and how much she follows Lucifer, she still feels certain things, maybe not how a human does or how she should, but it hurts to see Sam like this. It makes her want to beg for him to let Lucifer take over, that he'd fix Sam's problems and give him so much more.

"I- I thought I had him back for good." Fuck he looks so broken it almost makes Ruby want to revive Dean herself, almost.

"Did the Angel he was talking to say anything about a time limit on being back?" Not that that's how resurrection really works but Sam doesn't know that.

"No." A sudden surge of anger covers Sam's words, he stands abruptly and turns to Ruby, not showing half the sadness she was expecting and instead looking rather pissed off. It might be the demon blood coursing through him, she can tell he took a swig when he was picking up their food, or it might just be Sam finally getting angry the way she wants him to. If he thinks the Angel did this, he'll want revenge. A Winchester always wants revenge.

"What's going through your head Sam? Talk to me." One of her hands reaches to brush through Sam's hair, it's greasy from the running around they all did today, but she still thinks it's perfect. The brown locks were sculpted for Lucifer since his birth, he's made in Lucifer's image, there's not a single flaw about him. At least not one that can't be changed, Dean's gone and that eliminates half of the problems she was having with getting Sam to agree to Lucifer's request.

"I want Lilith dead, and I want Castiel back in heaven. It might've been God's orders to bring Dean back but to rip him away again is cruel, I don't care who said it was okay. God or Angel or whoever- they can't just take him away from me." There's rage practically dripping off of every word leaving Sam's mouth, Ruby loves it. Anger will get him to Lucifer, will get him to open that last gate, will get her recognized as the demon that got Lucifer his vessel. Both of them will be living highly and hell's rules will change with Sam's leading.

"You're almost strong enough to kill Lilith, I promise." Mere inches it seems.

"What can I do to make myself stronger faster?" A grin breaks across Ruby's face, while she's been trying to pace Sam on the demon blood so it works correctly, he's been on the stuff for so long she's sure she can up the dosage. It should be easy to retrieve considering his powers too.

"Drink more, then we kill Lilith, then deal with Castiel." Break Lucifer out of hell and take his place as Lucifer's vessel is in there too, Sam just doesn't know it yet.

"Let's go get more blood now." Impatient and angry, perfection. He doesn’t even look back at Dean's body, there's no doubt in Ruby's mind that Sam will let Lucifer in now.

#sam writes #moodboard #my fic #samruby #ruby (supernatural)#sam winchester #demon blood sam #boy king of hell sam winchester #🔪 folder

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citizensofcradle · 2 years ago

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IkePrince Suitors as Lewis Capaldi lyrics

Lewis Capaldi is one of my favorite musical artists and I was just struck with the urge to make this list one night!

I wanna give a little disclaimer that these are just in my own opinion. I also didn't pick whole songs because some of these songs I don't feel like they fit the characters as a whole while others might. Not gonna lie either I struggled with some of them so they might not be the best ones but oh whale.

I'm gonna put them under the cut though because if not this is gonna be a huge text wall on feeds! On another note, I hope ya'll enjoy these!

Jin- "'Cause I'm not ready, to find out you know how to forget me, I'd rather hear how much you regret me, And pray to God that you never met me, Than forget me, Oh I hate to know I made you cry, But love to know I cross your mind, Babe oh I, Even after all it'd still wreck me, To find out you'd know how to forget me" -Forget Me

Chevalier- "Lately, I'm getting lost on you, You got me doing things I never thought I'd do, Never spent so long on a losing battle, But lately giving up don't seem to matter, Every day, I'm a slave to the heartache, And you're wasting away every night, I don't wanna leave you lonely, But I've run out of love this time, You know that I adore you, Though I couldn't give enough, Hope you'll be safe in the arms of another, 'Cause I can't take the weight of your love" -Lost On You

Clavis- "Will you forgive me if I'm coming off a little bit obtuse? Well, it's been a minute now since I have had to tell the truth, I know I can, I won't, Suppose I thought that by this moment I would have it figured out, But instead, I tend to spend my days consumed by seeds of doubt" -How I'm Feeling Now

Leon- "Hope, have you some that I can borrow? 'Cause I've been so low, And the weight of all the world's a heavy load, Keep me going 'til tomorrow, 'Cause I just don't know if I can face another day alone, Well my lungs don't breathe, And my heart don't beat, And I can't believe in any kind of life without you here, And I can't move on, 'Cause it feels so wrong, No I just don't want any kind of life without you dear" -Any Kind of Life

Yves- "I can wear a million faces, 'Cause I don't like the one underneath, Always found it easy to fake it, Yeah, I'll be anybody but me, To tell you the truth, I'm the fraud in the room, And I know that, But you never will, In my mind, it's instilled not to show that, I spend almost all of my time, Feeling like I'm falling even further behind" -The Pretender

Licht- "I’m not ready to be just another of your mistakes, don’t wanna let the pieces fall out of place, I was only just a breath removed from going to waste, till I found salvation in the form of your grace, your grace, your grace, don’t take it away" -Grace

Nokto- "You saw me different then, oh, when I held your heart in my hand, so, if you’re gonna leave me, just leave me slowly, let’s make it last, just one more dance, before the moment’s passed, I’d rather that you lay here than leave me lonely" -Leave Me Slowly

Luke- "I've been holding on to hope, That you'll come back when you can find some peace, 'Cause every word that I've heard spoken, Since you left feels like an hollow street, I've been told, I've been told to get you off my mind, But I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind, Oh my lord, oh my lord, I need you by my side" -Bruises

Sariel- "I wish somebody would've told me, That I'd end up so caught up in need of your demons, That I'd be lost without you leading me astray, Guess that I'm a fool for the way that you caught me, Girl, you make my heart break more every day, But don't fade away" -Fade

Rio- "To tell the truth, I think you saved my life, givin’ my heart to you over to you would be no sacrifice, Oh lord, i ain’t afraid to die if it means I’m by your side, it would be such a heavenly way to say goodbye" -Heavenly Kind of State of Mind

Silvio- "Forget everything we've come to expect, It only serves to further fuck with our heads, And I don't wanna pretend this will all be alright in the end, mmm, So maybe now instead of balancing on the edge, We could put this to bed for good, Can call it quits or risk sinking with this broken ship, But I don't think we'd make it through, through, Now it's only the beat of my heart, That reminds me not to stare at the sparks, Can't set fire to my soul, Just to keep ya, keep ya, keep ya from burning alone" -Burning

Keith- "I bring her coffee in the morning, She brings me inner peace, I take her out to fancy restaurants, She takes the sadness out of me, I make her cards on her birthday, She makes me a better man, I take her water when she's thirsty, She takes me as I am" -Pointless

Gilbert- "You got your demons, spent seasons on the dark side of the moon, Don't try denying 'cause you know that I've been there too, Right now I know how it feels like the world's gonna end, But I'll get you through, If it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna love the hell out of you, Take all the pain that you're going through, I'll bring you heaven if that's what you need, 'Cause you've always loved the hell out of me" -Love the Hell Out of You

#I'm honestly kinda surprised I didn't use more of my fave lines from his songs than what I did #IkePri #Ikeprince #Ikemen Prince #not ikerev #Jin Grandet #Chevalier Michel #Leon Dompteur #Yves Kloss #Licht Klein #Nokto Klein #Luke Randolph #Sariel Noir #Rio Ortiz #Silvio Ricci #Keith Howell #Gilbert Von Obsidian #If I’ve made any mistakes on commas or whatever pls ignore I mostly just copy pasted the lyrics🥲😂

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little-peril-stories · 2 years ago

Text

Whumptober 2023, Day 24: "I thought they were with you."

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Read at your own risk! They're only snippets of a larger story, with no resolution that will be posted online anytime soon; they are being posted out of order; and the characters don't have names. Enjoy!

Contents: angst, unknown fate of another character

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 880 || Approx reading time: 4 mins

"Watch out!"

Teaser: The plan, meticulously thought out: he would go to her, read the letter, give to her every carefully composed word.

“How will they tell my story? / How will they tell my tale?”

Chasing sleep proved to be a futile effort, and so the scholar passed the night at his desk, staining his skin as he had so many times before with ink—splatters and whorls of black sinking into his fingerprints and burrowing beneath his nails.

He didn’t mind the ink stains. He barely noticed them. It was no different, he told himself, from writing a thesis or preparing for an examination.

Except, of course, that it was different in every possible way, save for the scratch of his pen against the page.

As he rose from his chair when sunlight crept across the sky, he knew he’d neglected to sleep at all, and yet he didn’t feel tired. He did feel strange, though—dizzy, far away, distant from the walls and floors of the palace as he passed unsteadily through the halls like a half-drunk hooligan.

He clung to the letter he’d sunk deep into his pocket, wondering if the dampness on his palms would smudge the ink and imprint the words themselves right onto his skin.

The plan, meticulously thought out: he would go to her, read the letter, give to her every carefully composed word. He wouldn’t stumble or lose his place when he looked up and their eyes met. Well, he might. But he’d get through it. Brimming with courage, he would read it and tell her and then the truth would be between them, free for her to take or not as she wished.

He could do it. He wasn’t such a coward.

The rap of his knuckles against the door was the loudest thing he’d ever heard, rattling his bones and aching through his flesh. When it was answered, he asked to see her, stammering on the lyrical syllables of her name.

He recognized the girl who opened the door—one of her colleagues, a friend, a girl with cool, appraising eyes. They usually regarded him with little more than curiosity and vaguely confused acknowledgement that her friend might choose to while away her hours of freedom with a lanky, bespectacled former royal tutor who staggered through most social situations with the grace of a baby elephant.

Now, those cool eyes were puzzled, but it was a harsh, snappish confusion. “She’s not here.”

He glanced around, doubting his navigation abilities for an instant before his surroundings confirmed that he was in the correct place. “She’s gone out already?”

“I thought she was with you,” the girl said, her gaze hardening.

“What?” He frowned, prickles rising along his skin even though the morning sun was beating through the glass windowpane with vicious strength. “Why would she be with me?”

“She didn’t come back last night,” she said. “And since you were the one who spirited her away into the gardens for a…walk…” The scholar noticed then how stiff the girl held herself, how tightly she bit out every word. “We figured she was with you.”

Suspicion, he realized. Suspicion was what lurked within that glare.

“I didn’t spirit anyone anywhere,” he said. “I went back in and she was still…”

It struck him fully then—what he was saying and what her friend was saying, burrowing in like something sharp-toothed and ravenous, eating away at his skin.

“Wait,” he said, his thoughts spinning backwards, “she didn’t come back at all?”

The girl shook her head, swallowing as if it pained her.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “Why don’t you know? You were the last one to see her.”

Last one…

“No,” he said, “I went back in—she wanted to stay outside—”

“So you left her alone?”

The sheer negligence of that choice, the stabbing realization of how abysmally he had erred in his judgment—they both clanged toward him, harsh and accusing and true.

“The gardens,” he said, “did anyone look—do you suppose she—I don’t—“ He backed away from the door. “I’ll look for her.”

“I’m coming with you,” her friend said, disappearing for a moment while she shouted back, “Don’t go anywhere!” When she reappeared, she was yanking a pair of shoes onto her feet.

But they had to hurry, he thought. “What if she…” If she was hurt? If a strange illness had befallen her after he walked away? “I just don’t understand.”

“Is there something you’re not saying?” her friend asked. “Was she sick last night? Upset? At y… About something?”

“No,” he said, trying to keep his voice from clipping too sharply. “She was watching the fireworks.”

“I can’t believe you just left her alone there,” the girl said. “What’s wrong with you?”

She’d insisted. She’d been fine. She’d been content.

“Are you telling the truth?”

He stumbled to a stop, just for an instant, as the earth shivered and shifted beneath him. “Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know,” her friend said. “I’m just asking.”

He banished her question from his mind. Perhaps there was more she wasn’t saying. It didn’t matter, not at the moment.

All that mattered: making it to the gardens—to the last place he saw the girl for whom he’d written the love letter in his pocket—and what they would find when they got there.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#whumptober2023 #no.24 #goodbye note #neglect #“I thought they were with you.”#oc #original content #fic #angst #unknown fate of another character

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vanderwoodlings · 1 year ago

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20 questions game for fic writers

Tagged by @strideofpride tysm <3

1. How many works do you have on ao3? 92! That is… more than I expected. Gonna have to do something special when I hit a hundred I think

2. What’s your total ao3 word count? 239,532

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly GG and DC Comics, but I’ve done a little of a lot of things. Still currently working on HOTD on a tertiary level, I guess

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? après le déluge, moi (post-film fic for The Batman (2022)); Here’s the part where I make a joke about roses, right? (Batfam fluff); maybe i’m just breaking free (took the apprentice arc from the Teen Titans cartoon, mix-and-matched with Winter Soldier, threw it all into the comicsverse); like a weird, murdery uncle you don’t invite to thanksgiving (batfam & rogues) and Paradigm Shift (Damian Wayne adjusting to Wayne Manor, part of a larger au)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yep! Unless it’s very flat out hate, I’ll give it a shot. I like talking to people who leave more in depth ones, and it makes me happy to even get little compliments, so I try to say thank you.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hm… load-bearing (the ventfic about Eric getting vented at) is pretty heavy, and so is steal my reflection (what do you see?) (some reactions to Inside)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Maybe the park au (single parents Dan and Blair meet watching their kids at the park)?

8. Do you get hate on fics? It’s happened before, yeah. Not fun

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? Nope

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written? Sometimes! The only one I’ve published is stage name (crossover where Jason Grace is Aaron Hotchner’s nephew)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? It’d be cool, and I’ve gotten some awesome related/inspired works, but no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? A few times, yeah—mostly with my sibling (on here @darngosh-it and ao3 as DarnGoshit)

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? ,,,,,there are lots. First one that comes to mind, though, is a pre-series blairserena piece

16. What are your writing strengths? Atmosphere, I think. I’ve been told a few times that my writing has a very distinctive Vibe

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I always feel like my characters don’t exist in physical space. They’re talking heads a lot of the time

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I mean look. If you’re wrong it’s embarrassing, and if you’re making your readers scroll to the end of the chapter it’s annoying and hard to read. Generally, writing in the same language and indicating that it’s not somehow is gonna be better

19. First fandom you ever wrote for? I believe somewhere there is still a composition book with Narnia fanfic from when I was twelve

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written? I’m gonna cheat and give three in the form of talking about the thing that canon doesn’t talk about

Tagging: @mysteriesofloves, @blairwaldcrf, and anyone else who might think these look fun!

#tag games #original nonsense #this is a writing tag

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dirtytransmasc · 2 years ago

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Hi yes, I would desperately like to see your *insert original media type* please

I have so many at this point for 80 different fandoms, all in different levels of being wips, I couldn't even pick one to show you lol, this is just a very very common feeling I have.

but I might as well give you something, so have some sad, gay, religious trauma ridden "poetry" I wrote after playing Sally face (it's for Travis and his sad little crush on sal), but it could be read as any old queer angst cause there's very little character description.

I doubt this piece a lot, I feel like it's too much and not enough at the same time. there's most likely half a million typos, but my lack of confidence in this piece got so bad I don't even want to look at it anymore.

tw for extreme internalized homophobia.

~~~

Some romances are sweet and gentle; the girl gets the guy. She bats her eyelashes and twirls her hair, he hides his blush with his bravado and sweeps her off her feet. they are joined in holy matrimony, the lord looking down on them with pleasure.

This isn’t one of those romances. For I am the boy who will never get the other boy. I will rub my wet eyes raw and pull at my hair till theres is nothing left to pull at. I may have him, but only ever in sin. I will never have him in your eyes, Lord.

This isn’t sweet nor gentle. This is treacherous and painful and all-consuming.

He’s my destruction, my end, my point of no return. He is my salvation, my respite, my beginning, my place of origin.

I would know him in insanity, as that is where I have come to know him. I know nothing of him. I would know him in death, as that is how far I will go for him. he knows nothing of me. I will know him in pain and sorrow, as that is all he brings me. He’s never uttered a word in my direction, not knowingly. To think he’s spared me a glance would be a mercy on my aching heart.

I couldn’t tell you his favorite color or what he does to fill his free time. I don’t know anything about him. He is part of me. We have never been one. He doesn’t even know how I stare, how I long and pine, how I would snatch my soul from the lord, how I would sell it to the devil himself for just a single kiss, a touch of the fingers, to snatch gently at a single wisp of his hair. Anything. Even the most miniscule of affections would be everything. For him to simply know my name, for him to look at me as I look at him would be enough.

though, in the end, I would never dare do such a thing, I would never curse him to share my fate, because I love him. I would never pray for him to be a sinner like me. He deserves the greatest of heavens, not to be licked at by flames, cursed for all of eternity to never know rest.

Yet, when I lie in bed longing that he is, that he nurtures this beautiful curse like a poisonous flower that grows in our chests. That we could be sinner’s together. Its shameful, horrific, cruel, but a feeling that I cannot shake.

It doesn’t help that his voice, the parables that fall from his lips, sound as though they are the words of God Himself. His laugh could cure sickness, the sound of his smile lilting his voice ever so slightly, could bring about the greatest of peace. it is etched into my memory, it plays in the softest of dreams and darkest of nightmares. I could pull it from a crowd, it is the only voice that matters. I believe that when I die, when I sink into hell, it will be his voice there, as it will be my greatest torture, it will be my greatest respite.

I see all that is horrid about him, the scars that mar his skin and burdens he carries on his shoulders, shattering his clavicles and crushing his vertebrates. I see all of the things that make him ugly and unwantable, and want him more. I see everything that is beautiful, that mark him an angel, and seek to honor him. Where some see a monster, I see something godsent. What some seek to lust, I seek to honor. I see his grace, his holy divinity. It is something untouchable.

He is divine, he is my greatest sin. He is an angel, a demon, the Christ reborn once more, an eldritch horror. In my heart he is mine.

Lord forgive me for I have sinned, I wish to fall flesh to flesh with another man, no, boy. We are boys. We are boys in love. I am a boy in love, he has the mercy of not knowing me. Forgive me lord for I lust, not to touch with any lude manner, but to hold his hand in mine, to feel the gentle roughness of his palm against my own. I wish to kiss his brow and wake to his sleep filled eyes, to see his bed head first hand, to feel how sleep warms his skin, how he would wrap his arms around me when he turns back over from hitting snooze. I wish to kiss him ever so gently. Forgive me lord for being in love, for wanting the simple pleasures, for doing it all wrong. I am wrong.

Am I wrong? If I am wrong, why would you create me like this?

I would surely die if I were to admit these thoughts to anyone but you, Lord, and even you will one day claim your revenge against me, you will come to smite my soul, but that is ok. Until then, I will simply thank you, for making me wrong, for creating such a beautiful sin, so that I may lust after your creation, one so heavenly, with the tainted innocence of a boy who was robbed of it with bible verses and the screams of preachers so long ago, but still clings to the idea of it. Of being pure and holy. Of loving innocently like the child I still feel myself to be.

Until the day my soul is consumed by the flames, I will tell you all about him. Until that day I will drag my chains, shackles, and cinder blocks so I can just bask in his light a little longer. Maybe one day I will hold his hand and pretend I do not feel your shame and humiliation. Maybe one day I will kiss him ever so softly, like two children on the playground, and I will act as though I am not damning myself, like we together are not damned to the flames. Maybe I was always meant to be sinner, maybe its worth it.

Yes, yes it’s worth it. I will commit a million sins, with prayers still on my tongue, with a love so deeply rooted in my chest that I still praise your name despite the disgust you surely hold for me, just to be with him. You can damn me, you can shame me, your holy messengers can attempt to change me, to beat me, to kill me, to snuff me out and take my love. But I will never not love my perfect sin. I will chose it every time.

I will be the boy, who loves another boy. I will sing hymns, wear my rosary, go to church, kneel in the pews with pride. I will hold his hand and love him for as long as he allows. I will feel the burn of hell under each strike of my feet upon your earth and be comforted by his hand in mine, and mine in his, the gentle roughness of his palms, the heavenly essence of his voice, the love of two sinners binding us together.

#salvis #if you squint really really hard #and know that I wrote it with the intentions of being salvis #I hate this thing #I think its awful #vut everyome ive shown it to says its good so #here ig

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pasteidolons · 6 months ago

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𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔥𝔧𝔰 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦

pairing: hong jisoo x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: lee jihoon, choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan, xu minghao, lee chan, choi hansol warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical inaccuracies for the sake of plot progression word count: 5.7k

taglist: @hipsdofangirl, @reiofsuns2001, @lovrehani

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔳

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 1𝔰𝔱, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The sound of the broom sweeping against the stone entrance of the temple sounds rhythmic to your ears. As you reflect on being here for a little over a year now, you realize what a settled routine everyone’s come to, you’ve even been allowed more freedom to move around the compounds. Perhaps this freedom is what allows your guard to be down as a figure approaches you.

You see him in your periphery as you go to glance at the new buds on some nearby flowering trees, you face him, needing to squint as he nears. It’s obvious that he isn’t a part of the temple’s staff…

And there stands Hong Jisoo. The man who had affiliated himself with Baekje, who’d outed himself as an enemy to the Hwarang. Your grip around the broom handle tightens as nervous energy courses through you.

Almost as if he can sense your anxiousness, he looks to you and speaks with a warm tone, “I’m not here to take you away.” His eyes travel to the trees you’d been doting on before returning his gaze to you, “It’s been a while since I last stepped foot in Seorabeol… and I just happened to visit Bulguksa.”

“Did you think I’d believe that?” You ask, conviction raiding your tone.

“Well,” he sighs out, “If I’m being honest, I’ve come to check up on you, but my moods can be fickle. So, I decided to admire this temple instead.”

Your natural reaction should be to run and alert everyone that he’s here, but you doubt he’d let you get that far.

“Just to let you know,” Jisoo’s voice lowers for a moment, “If I’d come to take you away, then I would’ve already done so.”

Once again, he looks to the surroundings, not having a care in the world that he lay in a viper’s nest. A small smile graces his lips as he looks to the temple itself.

“Shrines, temples, palaces, the city… If humans can do one thing right, it’s building beautiful monuments.”

“Huh?” Dumbfounded by his demeanor, you can only just stand there.

“If you’re done trying to interrogate me, look up and try to admire what’s around you.”

Your brow furrows at his words, but you’re inexplicably drawn to do what he says. Normally, you’re so occupied with helping out around the temple, you never take the time to sit and marvel at the scenery. Yet now you look and you can sense life teeming from the trees that surround every corner of the compound. The soft, setting sun of spring accentuates the lighter details of the temple. It’s refreshing to sit back and watch spring dance around you, almost as if you’re seeing it for the first time.

“It’s beautiful…” You say as your eyes catch sight of a bird flying up to its roost in one of the temple’s support beams.

“Don’t you find it strange? Humans are capable of producing such beautiful things.” Jisoo sighs, “Yet, they think nothing of it when their wars reduce such beauty into ash, dust and fire. They’re all fools. And despite being of the same species, clan or family, they’ll find any reason to kill one another. They don’t even blink when it comes to deceiving their fellow man, lying their way to the top, and if they want something, they’ll steal it.”

He then looks at you, “What do you say? Wouldn’t you say humans are foolish?”

“There might be some people like that…” You shake your head, “That doesn’t apply to everyone.”

“Are you talking about those men?”

“Yes. Even though the Hwarang pride themselves for being warriors, they do it to protect the people of Seorabeol and the Crown.” You stand firmly on your hill, “It’s never for personal gain.”

What Jisoo had described is true, that there are many people in the world capable of evil, but you know that isn’t true of the Hwarang. You’ve spent enough time with them to realize that.

“Not too far from this temple lies another. A temple beside a temple. Have you ever thought about how odd that is?” Jisoo asks, “Long ago, before Silla was a mere conception, these two temples were part of a much more powerful temple. During a period of war, the forces of the western temple were successful in holding back the powers of the Jinhan for ten years. Do you think Hyeokgeose would allow this errant faction to be left as they were?”

“Well, I suppose not,” you answer and Jisoo nods at your response.

“So, the King operated behind-the-scenes, establishing this temple, isolating the original one.” Jisoo’s hand runs along one of the agate stones on the wall, “They manipulated the two entities, fanning the flames until the two sides eventually broke out into a fight. Essentially, they split the temple’s forces and funding in half, which exhausted all of their men and made long term war unfeasible.”

“Neither side knew that they were being manipulated, battling their former friends, allies and comrades, for hundreds of years. So, don’t you think this sounds familiar?”

“Are you talking about the Hwarang?”

He doesn’t answer you, only looking coldly out to the courtyard. “These men, in whom you’ve foolishly placed your faith, are only pawns of the King. They won’t realize they’re pawns until it’s too late, and they will forever be Silla’s bitches, swinging their swords to put food on the table.” The man shifts, his arms crossing, “They have no sense of the bigger picture, nor do they show any regard for others. All they care about is advancing their self-interests.” Eyes shifting to you, “You’re telling me that your faith in humans is because of men like them?”

“Even then, I’d have faith in them.” You say, unwavering, “I’ve lived with them for the past few years and seen them closely. Everyone struggles, and they’ve put forth so much effort to achieve what they believe is right. So… I don’t think they are like the people you think they are.”

“So, you think the Hwarang are just, and you don’t care if they kill one another, or participate in their needless wars?”

“That—No, it wouldn’t be alright,” his question stops you for a moment.

Jisoo smiles and lets out a soft laugh, “Aren’t you a selfish one? But I do commend your desire to keep loyalty for those you have faith in, even if it’s futile.”

“What do you mean?” You question, furrowing your brow.

“Well,” he sighs out, “it seems like I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He straightens himself nonchalantly, brushing his shoulder.

You look at him, wondering if he really had just come to sightsee.

“Do you want me to abduct you or something?” He smirks, noticing your expression. His countenance then wavers, becoming serious as he’s thought of something, “Let me tell you something… These men that you’re so fond of, they’re just a bunch of dumb nobles who’ve convinced themselves that they’re warriors just because they own a sword. They draw their swords when they’re told and they kill their own men without batting an eyelash. I wouldn’t trust such people.”

“But everyone—”

“When the time comes, I will come for you.” Jisoo says, “Think hard on what I said until then.”

“Come for me—” You begin, reaching out for him, but a gust of wind blows between your fingertips and just like that, he’s gone.

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 5𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 In the late months of 662, King Munmu had purged several members of his council for being either directly connected to or sympathetic towards the efforts of the Baekje revivalists. Now not only the revivalists themselves, but anyone who the Crown deems compassionate towards the cause, will be branded a traitor and an enemy of the Kingdom.

The loyalists laid low for a time, yet as the days, weeks and months progressed, more and more outrage began to grow in the hearts of those who feel as if Silla has done them wrong. Rumors of an insurgency began to spread throughout the peninsula, with the Baekje revivalists calling for the return of Buyeo Pung, the son of the last Baekje king. Not knowing how baseless these rumors were, the Crown asked Kwak Youngmin to head an expedition to the former capital of Sabi to investigate the claims.

It comes to pass that the expedition proves to be a fruitless venture, Youngmin writes as much in a letter received at Bulguksa this morning. He writes that he is to return immediately, the cost and expenditure of the venture far too much for the little information recovered.

Riding on the coattails of nothing, you set out with Choi Hansol this morning to accompany him on his rounds. An uneasy feeling fueling you with what may come in the weeks and months to pass.

“I’m glad winter’s finally over,” you note as you walk with him, thankfully that you no longer have to wear a thick coat when you go out on rounds.

“As am I,” he replies, his answer short and simple. His gaze flickers to a nearby shop before he looks to the men behind him, “We can start here and begin our rounds.” Hansol then turns to you, “You can wait outside if you’d like, I’m sure there’s nothing in here that would interest you.”

“Alright,” you nod before he and the handful of men make their way inside of the store, leaving you alone outside. His voice muffled from the interior, but you can hear him questioning the owner of the shop over a few accusations that had arisen recently. A few more minutes pass as you idly stand outside before you notice a commotion a bit further down the street.

A bawdy group of soldiers make their way through the crowd, pushing, shoving and spewing less than pleasant profanities as they laugh amongst one another. For members of the kingdom’s army, they never seem to have respect towards the people they protect. You’d come across some before, never able to do much about their behavior. And now the Hwarang aren’t here, still holed up in the shop behind you with their investigation.

One soldier knocks a child down as they pass, you’re not sure if it’s intentional but your instincts kick in and you race over to help the kid to their feet. You’re about to shout something at them, the anger towards their attitudes bubbling within you rapidly, but before you can, someone else calls them out.

“Stop right there!” It comes from a woman, an angered expression on her face as she marches over to them.

“Are you trying to tell us what to do?” A soldier laughs at her, “We’re here to keep you safe, miss.”

“Is pushing around people keeping them safe?” She bites, venom in her words, “It’s a little pathetic to act all big and strong to people who can’t even fight back.”

The soldier’s temper lit, he makes a grab for her and misses entirely. It looks as if he’s trying to move for her once more before you spring to your feet and jump between them.

“WAIT!” You shout out, trying to make your voice sound deeper than it is. It’s then you realize what you’ve done, your arm outstretched to keep the soldier from coming any closer to the woman.

“This your girlfriend or something?” the soldier snickers at you, “Who are you?”

“I don’t know her,” you shake your head, “but I can’t just stand by while you try to hurt her.”

“Why don’t you keep your nose out of my goddamn business you bastard,” The soldier says through grit teeth, flecks of spittle flying out of his mouth with each word.

“If you’re a true soldier of the kingdom, then why are you abusing your power over children and women?” You argue back, unsure of where you’re getting the strength to sound so authoritative when your knees feel wobbly, “A soldier is meant to protect the people, not take advantage of them!”

“The fuck did you just say?” You’re sure if there wasn’t an audience watching this happen, the soldier would have ripped into you with the blade at his hip.

From somewhere in the crowd, a man shouts out, condemning the action of the soldier. A few more voices rise out in agreement, your speech must’ve encouraged the people to call out the soldier’s behavior.

“You son of a bitch,” the familiar sound of a blade being unsheathed rings in your ears as you watch the soldier take out his sword.

Eyes widening, you at first think to move to dodge the attack, but that would leave the woman you’re trying to protect vulnerable. So, you move to reach for your own blade before the soldier lets out a groan and falls face first onto the ground in front of you. Looking up, you see Hansol standing there, his hands holding his still sheathed blade.

“I used the hilt,” he notes, looking down to the soldier before looking back up to you, “He should be out for quite a while.” Hansol then looks to the Hwarang accompanying him before giving them an order, “Take him and his men back to Bulguksa, they may have information on the loyalists.”

The Hwarang quickly get to work tying up and escorting the men away, leaving just you, the woman and Hansol alone on the street. Hansol now looks at you, trying to figure out what had happened.

“That was reckless,” he sighs out, “I was just inside, you could’ve asked me to help. What would you have done if they injured you?”

“I couldn’t stop myself,” you shake your head, “What if she were to get injured?”

“He’s right though,” the woman speaks up from behind you, stepping forward so she’s in line with you, “I feel like I was handling the situation well enough.”

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” you look a bit shocked, fully expecting the scolding from Hansol, but not from the woman. After giving her a short bow, her eyes widen as if she’s remembering something.

“You did save me though, didn’t you?” She now bows towards you, “Thank you! I forgot myself for a second.”

“I really didn’t do anything,” you chuckle nervously, “It was Captain Choi here and his men that did the work.”

“Even still,” she insists, “it’s way more respectable than just watching it all go down. Young ladies have to watch out for one another, you know?”

Hansol’s gaze travels from her to you, an expression crossing his features that you can’t quite name. “…You can’t expect to fool everyone you meet.” He says after a moment, letting you know that your jig is up.

“Were you trying to pretend to be a boy?” She sounds incredulous, the soft pinks of her shirts shimmering brightly in the sunlight, “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it…”

You’re not sure how to respond to her, in it of itself your whole situation is precarious at best. Seemingly sensing your confusion, she moves on swiftly, “I haven’t even asked your name! It seems like I’ve forgotten my manners. I think we could become very good friends, but it’s a bit difficult to befriend the nameless, can I ask your name?”

“Oh well,” you look to Hansol, “this is—”

“I know him, of course. Captain Choi, right?” She says and looks at the man, “The Hwarang are famous enough in the city. But I’m asking who you are.”

You give her your name and blow slightly, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyes grow wide, almost as if your name shocked her. She stares at you for a moment, “Heo? Your family name is Heo? Were you born near the coast?”

A slow nod, “I was. I lived in Toehwa-hyeon, but I had to come to Seorabeol for several reasons.”

She’s quiet for a moment, looking intently at you before she breaks into a smile. “I’m sorry,” a hand to wave off her prior concern, “it’s the same last name as an acquaintance of mine. It’s a lovely name.”

“You think so?”

“I do,” another smile before she introduces herself, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Sooyoung, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Sooyoung,” judging by her attire, she’s probably the daughter of a high-ranking noble.

“Don’t be so formal!” She insists, “You look like you’re around my age, there’s no reason for us to not speak as equals.”

“So, just Sooyoung?” You question hesitantly.

“Just Sooyoung,” she smiles, “We have to meet again sometime, I feel like you’d be great company to keep.” Her hands out stretch to hold yours for a moment, giving them a gentle squeeze before she turns and leaves.

Your encounter was over before you had the chance to fully comprehend what had happened, so you stand partially stunned as you watch her walk off.

Hansol watches her disappear into the crowds as well before he turns to you, “She seemed to be interested in your last name.”

“She said it was the same as someone she knows…” You hum and look at him, “It’s not an uncommon last name.”

It seems like he’s concerned with her reaction, deep in thought as he nods his head. “We’re running late on our patrol schedule… We should get going.”

And so, the two of you continue on the patrol, basking in the pre-summer warmth that descends on the kingdom.

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 25𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The heat intensifies as the month continues, dredging the compound in humidity only seen in the later summer months as the days go by. You’re sitting in the main hall with a small fan to cool yourself down with when you hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Excuse me, Heo?” You turn and see Lee Junghwan standing in the doorway with a tray of tea in his hands, “Is this batch good enough?”

“Hm,” you stand and walk to him, gingerly placing your fingers to the pot before recoiling away with a small wince from the heat, “It might be best to make tea lukewarm on days like this.”

Junghwan had joined the Hwarang just after Youngmin had returned from his expedition to Sabi, while there he invited the new member to join the organization. He’s now working as Youngmin’s page, and seemingly struggling with the transition from military life to that at the headquarters. The new member does seem fond of the Hwarang, very focused on honing his skills when he’s not running errands for the leader.

“Do you think we can water it down?” A voice questions as they round the corner and saddle up to Junghwan, a tray of tea in his hands as well.

“Ah, Dohoon, if you do that then you’ll lose the tea’s flavor,” you note, somewhat scarred by that suggestion.

“Really?” His eyes widen as he turns to his friend, “What do you think we’re supposed to do, Junghwan?”

“Maybe if we put the teapot in well water?” Junghwan suggests, humming out the question.

“That might work!” Dohoon nods enthusiastically, “Let’s do it!”

Kim Dohoon joined the Hwarang around the same time that Junghwan had, and because of their similar rank and age, they grew quite close to one another. Not to mention, Dohoon also became Youngmin’s page-in-training. Because of that, it was up to you to make sure the two became acquainted with the Hwarang and all of their pagely duties, a task more difficult than you previously imagined.

“The tea doesn’t need to be exactly room temperature,” you say quickly, “Just a bit cooler to balance it against the warm weather. So, instead of boiling water, just make it warmer and then brew it. Then it won’t affect the tea’s flavor.”

“Ohhh,” Dohoon muses, “You really do know a lot about this.”

“It’s very helpful,” Junghwan smiles at you appreciatively.

“As for the tea,” you look to the pots, “I’ll serve it to them so you two can—”

“What do you need?” Dohoon asks, saddling over to you, the cups and pot on his tray clinking together as he does so. “We’re up for it!”

“You’re going to do some sword training with me!” Junhui, who’d been sitting at the other end of the table, fiddling around with some trinket, exclaims as he rises to his feet. The two pages go quiet, knowing full well that Junhui’s training regime would probably leave them battered and bruised come tomorrow morning. “What?” The captain asks at their silence, “You don’t want to train?”

“Of course not!” Junghwan shakes his head, “I’d love to train.”

“Um…” Dohoon sighs out, “I still have a few errands to do…”

“Don’t get shy on me, new kid,” Junhui laughs at him.

“It’ll only help us become better warriors,” Junghwan mentions to Dohoon hurriedly.

“It’s not training, it's hazing,” Dohoon frowns and mutters quietly.

Junhui laughs again and puts his arms around the two, looking over at you with a wink, “I’ll take them off your hands for a bit.”

Junghwan smiles weakly as he sets down his tray, Dohoon looking as if he’s ready to cry as he sets down his own before Junhui throws his arms around the two and drags them off towards the training yard.

𝔐𝔞𝔶 13𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “Is it really true that Buyeo Pung returned from Yamato?” Your voice is quiet as you set down a cup of tea by the Hwarang’s leader. Youngmin had been sitting out in one of the temple’s gardens after briefing the captains on what news had just emerged from the former kingdom of Baekje when you found him. On his expedition a few months prior, the Crown had concluded that the rumors of the former prince’s return weren’t anything to be afraid of, yet now it seems as if the attitude has shifted and a causation for worry has arisen.

“It seems that way,” Youngmin nods and reaches for the cup, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drink from it. “His forces attacked Yongmyo Gate out west and a monk from the temple they’ve been holed up in has instated him as Baekje’s new king.” The leader looks tired as he sets the cup back down.

“Does that mean there’s going to be a war?” You ask quietly, wondering what this means for the rest of the kingdom. It doesn’t seem as if the news of Pung’s return is widespread yet, as the city still seems to be at peace.

“War? Hmm,” Youngmin hums, “I’m not sure. They’ve allied with Yamato, gotten Gwisil Boksin back as their general and are trying to claim territory quickly so we can’t stop them.” That seems scary enough just listening to their conquest, but Youngmin adds a bit more to ease you, “King Munmu has asked Emperor Gaozong for aid, supposedly they’re sending in Lui Jengui.”

You don’t know who that is, but with the assuredness in Youngmin’s tone, it makes you feel a bit better. “Will the Hwarang have to fight?”

“I’m not sure,” he shakes his head, “We could be delegated to keeping watch over Seorabeol or be put into the ranks depending on what’s needed.” His arms cross over his chest as he remains deep in thought.

You’re not sure what to say, on one hand, fighting for the kingdom is what the Hwarang are meant to do, but in doing so, there would be inevitable loss among his men. A heaving sigh escapes you before Youngmin speaks up once more.

“Doctor Namekawa is examining Seungkwan right now.” You look at him, wondering why he’d said that. The captain had seemingly been in a sickly state for a while now, had it gotten worse? “He hasn’t said anything but I hope it’s nothing serious,” a frown on the leader’s lips as he says that, “if something happened to him, I’m not sure I could face her…”

“Her?” You question, “He’s not married, is he?”

Youngmin chuckles lightly and shakes his head, “His sister. He left her in Gochang when he joined us.”

“I didn’t know that he has a sister,” you say, somewhat surprised at the revelation.

“He has two,” Youngmin nods, “Their parents passed before they moved here.”

“It sounds like Seungkwan has been through a lot…”

“He’s too honest to admit it, but yes, he has,” Youngmin agrees.

“You’d be the only man in Silla to call him honest, Kwak,” Jihoon laughs, having arrived in the garden at some point when you and Youngmin had been talking.

“Jihoon,” Youngmin smiles at him and motions him over, “Would you like some tea?”

“No thank you,” the commander shakes his head, his demeanor becoming more serious, “Have you heard about the notice board by the river?”

“The one that calls for the arrest of Baekje loyalists?” Youngmin asks before answering himself, “I have.”

“Some assholes tore it down and threw it into the water,” Jihoon relays, crossing his arms.

“I heard about that as well,” the leader nods, “Didn’t they fix it the next day?”

“Yes, but then it happened again,” Jihoon huffs, “I have a feeling we’re going to be asked to keep an eye on it sooner or later.”

“It was torn down at night, wasn’t it?” Youngmin muses, “What about using Seungcheol’s Fury Corps?” With the way Jihoon looks after Youngmin’s suggestion, it’s easy to see it doesn’t sit right with the commander.

“They work hard enough but they get… excited once the sun goes down.” Jihoon uncrosses his arms, “Whenever we give them something to do, they end up slaughtering instead of arresting. They desecrate the corpses until they’re unrecognizable. I don’t know if it’s to hide our involvement or what, but they’ve been going too far.” He shakes his head as if to rid himself of the thought, “Despite me telling them to stop, they won’t. If they keep it up then they’ll be no better than the average murderer.”

You still can recall the night you’d first encountered the Furies, their bloodlust and the utter lack of regard for human life.

“… I have other ideas of what we can do.” Jihoon says, looking towards Youngmin.

“I’ll leave it to you then,” the leader nods with a sigh. “Have you heard of the reforms that Cha Sohwan is trying to initiate with the crown?”

Before long, the two of them delve further into political jargon and names that you’d never heard of before, so you excuse yourself and walk back to the inner buildings. There’s much on your mind, but the Furies are and what they’re meant to do is what really confuses you.

𝔐𝔞𝔶 17𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Jihoon seems to have been right about the notice board, a few days later the order arrived telling the Hwarang that they’re to guard the board and apprehend anyone who seeks to destroy it. Any captains and their division not on active patrol are to be positioned there to guard it. The first few days proved to be calm, with most of the men rolling in in the morning looking dead tired.

Junhui is a great example of this, you notice it when you walk into the great hall and he’s slumped over in his chair, his cheek pressed against the tabletop as he yawns. “Morning,” a lazy wave towards you, “I’m beat.”

“I’d have thought you were better at pulling all-nighters,” Mingyu mutters next to him, leaning back in his chair.

“Pulling all-nighters in Noseo-dong is different than standing guard for a goddamn sign,” Junhui groans, pushing himself off the tabletop. “It’s not like I want the posting to be vandalized, I just wish something would happen. You’re in charge of it tonight, aren’t you Mingyu?”

“Yeah,” the other nods, “And I will uphold my position with my sense of duty, honor and enthusiasm.” It’s obviously sarcasm that leeches from his voice, but you can’t fault him but so much, it does sound awfully boring.

“Good morning, Captain Kim, Doyoung,” You nod as the two brush past you and head further into the hall.

“Hello, you three,” Gongmyung greets with a tired sigh, “Did I interrupt something here?” As he speaks a few of his men filter into the room, taking up a rather large portion of the space.

“Are you up to something here?” Mingyu asks as he watches the men file in, “What’s with all your men?”

“Me?” Gongmyung looks at him and smiles, “I was planning on holding a debate with my men on the topic of the potential Baekje threat. Would you like to join us?”

“You’re such a jackass,” Doyoung says quietly and rolls his eyes at his brother. “I’m sure Mingyu’s read the Four Books and Five Classics but I doubt the other two even know what those are.”

“Don’t be impolite, Doyoung,” his brother scolds without any real scorn behind it. He looks to you and Junhui, “Excuse him, I’m not sure what’s been affecting my dear brother as of late. But as it looks as if the hall’s in use, I’ll just take my men elsewhere.” With that, Gongmyung beckons his followers to follow him out of the hall, heading for another building in the compound.

As soon as they were out of sight, a look of disgust came over Junhui, “Him and his groupies are just a bunch of pompous nobles.”

“Gathering his men and having secret meetings,” Mingyu frowns, “Who knows what they’re actually “debating”.” His head shakes with confusion, “I still don’t see why both Kwak and Soonyoung saw him as a valuable asset.”

Gongmyung isn’t just disliked by Junhui and Mingyu, more Hwarang than you can count had expressed distaste in him since he’d joined. There’s no way the captain hadn’t picked up on that by now, but he seems less than concerned of what everyone else thinks of him.

“Have any of you seen Captain Kim go by?” A new voice appearing in the doorway, it’s Suh Kangjoon, looking a little frazzled.

“He just left to go to another building,” you say quickly, “I think he’s going to have some kind of debate.”

A frustrated sigh, “I told him to tell me when he’d have his next meeting…” With that, Kangjoon storms off, probably going to find the captain.

“What was that about?” Junhui mutters as he watches Kangjoon stomp away.

“My guess is that he tried to join Gongmyung’s little posse but he’s not giving Kangjoon the time of day,” Mingyu shrugs. “It seems like he doesn’t really have a place for himself these days.” Another glance outside and Mingyu sighs, standing from his chair and stretching a bit, “I guess I should head out now.”

“Oh, actually—” You begin, and he turns to look at you. “Can I go with you?”

Mingyu seems to think on it for a moment before shaking his head, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Those Demons are still out there and these revivalists aren’t much better if we come across them.”

“I guess you’re right,” you frown, the sedentary nighttime at the compound is just bugging you, you suppose. “Be careful, I know things are getting more hectic these days.”

“Will do,” he nods before spinning on his heels and bounding out the door.

𝔒𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 30𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 After the siege by Silla on Buyeo Pung’s fortress at Imjeon, the newly crowned Baekje king and his people fled further into their homeland, taking residence at the former capital of Sabi. Shortly after, Buyeo Pung has his lead general, Gwisil Boksin beheaded for fears of insurgency in the newly reformed kingdom, subsequently calling for aid from their allies in Yamato to try and suppress both Tang and Silla forces on the peninsula.

The tensions between Silla and the Baekje revivalists culminate in early October, when, on the fourth, Yamato forces arrive on the coastal front of Sabi. Intent on invading the capital in the name of their Baekje allies through navigating the Baekgang River, they soon found themselves interlocked in battle with the Tang army stationed nearby.

Emperor Gaozong merely requested supplies from Silla at first, until the next day they call for standing troops. This means that several Hwarang were sent to fight the front lines, among them, Kim Mingyu, Choi Hansol and Wen Junhui had taken their men to fight amongst the Baekje-Yamato forces. On the seventh, the Baekje-Yamato and Silla-Tang forces engage in battle once more, with the Yamato forces reeling with heavy casualties as the Silla warriors were able to break through their lines.

What comes to be known as the Battle of Baekgang ends on the thirteenth of October, 663. With little to no way of defeating the Silla forces on land or the Tang forces at sea, Buyeo Pung is forced to retreat. Neither the Silla nor Tang forces can capture him before he escapes into Goguryeo. Yet, the absence of a king quells the thoughts of a Baekje revival for some time after.

In lieu of waiting for the three captains return, you find yourself sweeping the entranceway of the temple’s grounds, the autumnal air setting into your bones as the minutes pass. There isn’t a great much you can do as you anticipate their arrival, merely picking up things out of place and making sure no one’s snuck around and gone through their things while they were gone.

“You’re certainly hard at work,” Youngmin notes as he’s come outside to see what you’ve been up to. “The captains should be returning any day now.”

“I know,” You smile, expectant on their return, “Everything’s been hectic these last few months.”

“You can say that again,” the leader sighs out. It’s been especially taxing to both him and Jihoon, who’d been called nearly every other day to the palace to discuss further plans on the fate of the remaining Baekje loyalists. “Oh,” Youngmin says as he spots a figure nearing him around a corner you can’t see behind, “Over here, Jihoon!”

The Hwarang’s commander comes into view seconds later, a tired edge to his voice, “There you are, I was wondering if you’d had enough and escaped yet.”

Youngmin laughs, “Almost to that point, I’m afraid. I’ve been looking for you too, it seems as if Lui Jengui’s been chosen to front the effort to extract Buyeo Pung from Goguryeo.”

“Him?” Jihoon nods slowly, “I guess it makes sense, he did just secure Sabi for Silla. The captains will have to tell us more about him once they get back.”

#svthub #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #joshua x you #joshua fluff #joshua x reader #joshua angst #seventeen joshua #hong jisoo x reader #hong jisoo fluff #hong jisoo smut #jisoo smut

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