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m1ckeyb3rry · 1 year ago

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Hurricanes / Hummingbirds: IX

Series Synopsis: As the years go by, you find that it is incredibly difficult to survive wars and fight storms, especially when the only thing you have by way of a cursed technique is the blessing of a tiny bird.

Chapter Synopsis: You set out to stop Kashimo from killing the members of the Big Three Sorcerer Families.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x Female Reader; slight Kento Nanami x Female Reader; slight Satoru Gojo × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.0k

Content Warnings: swearing, enemies/rivals to lovers, character death, canon-typical violence, angst, gore, original characters included

A/N: we have finally entered the main storyline and it is a blast from the past!!

Three days and three nights, you had travelled in search of the god of lightning. Finally, you found him sitting cross-legged in the middle of a clearing, leagues away from any sort of civilization. The earth around him was scorched, and his head was tilted towards the sun, his eyes closed. For anyone else, it would be lazy and arrogant to lounge around in such a way, but he was not anyone else. He was the one whose name made people lock their doors tighter; no one would dare attack him, and even if they did, they would not last very long.

“Hello, dear Y/N,” he said without opening his eyes. You crossed your arms across your chest, not bothering to unsheathe your sword.

“Kashimo,” you said. “Hisashi says you plan to fight the Big Three Sorcerer Families next.”

He blinked languidly, finally deigning to peer up at you with eyes that were a fraught shade of blue. You raised your eyebrows at the way he smiled slightly.

“It’s true,” he said.

“Why?” you said. He yawned.

“That’s such a typical question. Does there need to be a reason?” he said.

“Yes?” you said. “If you are fighting someone, then there needs to be a reason. Such actions cannot be taken lightly.”

“Alright. Then it’s because I’m bored,” he said.

“Bored!” you repeated. He frowned, real turmoil brewing on his face.

“In fact, that is the case,” he said. “There is no one that has managed to challenge me in years. Naturally, I am turning to the ones that are meant to be the pinnacle of jujutsu society in order to satisfy my need for excitement.”

“You and I both know that Kichiro, Naoki, and Hisashi would never last against you,” you said.

“Hm, that’s certainly possible, but if they cannot, then who can? Besides you, of course. Do you mean to offer yourself?” he said. You pursed your lips.

“Yes,” you said.

“Yes?” he said. “You’ll do it? You’ll finally fight me?”

“I will fight you,” you affirmed. “However, not today.”

“Is this some kind of method of stalling? You’ll run away to safety while I wait for you?” he said. You shook your head immediately.

“I can make a Binding Vow, if you’d like,” you said. Kashimo snickered.

“It’s alright. I will trust you for the moment, but in exchange, you must tell me: if not now, then when?” he said, propping up his elbow against his knee and resting his chin in his hand.

“After I defeat Ten,” you said. “Find me then, and we can fight.”

“You’re still chasing after that useless dream? Give up, Y/N, everyone knows Ten isn’t real,” he said, flopping backwards onto the ground with a heavy exhale.

“He killed my parents!” you said, bending down and ripping up a handful of grass, throwing it at Kashimo, who did not even react. “He is the reason I have my cursed technique, so he’s surely real.”

“Even if he is, do you really think that you could do anything against the lord of the sky?” he said, pointing up at the clouds floating past for emphasis. “Just fight me instead, I’m sure whatever deity you claim blessed you will be satisfied by that.”

“Not likely,” you said. “You have my terms. If you leave the clans alone, I will fight you once I’ve defeated Ten.”

“What if you never find him?” Kashimo said.

“That won’t happen,” you said. “I will find him, and I will kill him. That’s the reason for my existence, after all.”

Kashimo had closed his eyes again, which meant he was bored of the conversation. His hands were folded across his stomach, and he would’ve appeared to be peaceful if not for the small sparks dancing around his body, subtle warnings to anyone who dared to get close enough to see them.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll leave your precious clans alone, and I’ll kill you instead.”

“Only once I’ve beaten Ten,” you reminded him. That same half-smile bloomed on his face again.

“If that’s what you want,” he said.

“Do you swear?” you said. “You have to swear, or I won’t do it.”

“I swear,” he said. “I won’t purposefully go out of my way to harm them, as long as you swear to do battle with me one day.”

“I swear I will,” you said. “Then we are in agreement?”

“I believe we are,” he said.

“Good!” you said.

“Good,” he said, yawning again. “Now, if you don’t mean to amuse me for the moment, could you go? It’s a nice day out, and I was planning on taking a nap.”

You made a face at his motionless form, weighing the merits of taking out your sword and stabbing him now. It was a foolish idea, of course — he’d wake up before you could do anything meaningful — but it was a satisfying one.

“I’ll leave,” you said. He lifted his hand in a wave.

“Goodbye,” he called out as you stomped away.

Hajime Kashimo was one of those sorcerers that operated outside of jujutsu society and consequently did not fear reproach from the Big Three Sorcerer Families. He was singularly obsessed with the thrill of battle and the difficulty of victory, and for as long as you could remember, there had been only one person he had longed to fight: you.

You were the only one who could hope to stand against him, which was why your future husband had sent you to dissuade him from attacking the Big Three Sorcerer Families. However, it was because of this, because of the fact that you were the only sorcerer he could possibly lose to, that you were the one he really wanted to face. He craved it above all else, for your sword to clash against his staff, for your blessings to face his lightning until one of you died and the other emerged the victor.

His frustration came from the fact that until now, you had refused to fight him. He battled entire armies and wiped out contingents of sorcerers, massacred every opponent that crossed his path, and was so widely revered that he could kill whoever he pleased — except for the singular being he actually desired to.

Of course, he definitely could’ve killed you by now if your death was all he cared about. It wouldn’t have been difficult for him to take you by surprise and send his lightning into your heart, but he was not that kind of person. Murdering you in cold blood would prove nothing, satisfy nothing, and so you could live in relative peace, knowing that unless you agreed to it, Kashimo would never actually hurt you.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t force your hand, as he was now doing. By threatening the Gojo, Kamo, and Zenin clans, he had all but assured that you would face him. You were set to marry Hisashi Gojo, after all, so any insult to the clan was also an insult to your own self. Furthermore, if the Gojos were to ignore the plight of the Kamos and the Zenins, there would be consequences, a political storm of the sort that neither Hisashi nor you had the time or patience to deal with.

This was why you had agreed to fight him, albeit with a caveat. Your defeat of Ten: the battle with Kashimo would only happen after that, and indeed that eventual fight was the reason you had not taken up arms against Kashimo yet.

Ten was a figure shrouded in myth and legend, but at the end of the day, he really did exist. You knew he did, because he was the one who had killed your parents. You knew he did, because that man, the one with the scars on his forehead, told you that you had been chosen just to defeat him.

Known as the lord of the sky, Ten was a merciless being that cared little for mortals except when taking delight in their deaths, similar to how crueler children would laugh as they stomped on insects. Nobody could say for certain what he looked like; there was an entire litany of animals that people claimed were his true body, while others said he was a person walking amongst you, and still others said he had no form at all.

You did not care what form he took. For your parents, for the hummingbird, you would slay him regardless.

“He’ll leave us alone,” you said as you walked into the meeting room where Kichiro Kamo, Naoki Zenin, and Hisashi Gojo were sitting, waiting with bated breath. The dark circles under Hisashi’s dull violet eyes and the shaggy appearance of Kichiro’s neat ponytail meant that they had barely slept the entire time you were gone. Even the ever-put-together Naoki’s clothes were rumpled, further attesting to the impact that Kashimo had on them.

“Thank goodness,” Kichiro said, shoulders slumping. His wife had just given birth to their firstborn. A son. You were sure he was grateful that he did not have to worry about a wayward sorcerer attacking and killing his only child.

“What did you have to give up?” Naoki said. He was the sharpest of the three; while Kichiro preferred to remain uninvolved and Hisashi had a guileless kindness about him, Naoki was always hyper-aware of his surroundings, refusing to look at the positives of a situation before carefully considering the negatives.

“I promised him I would fight him,” you said.

“What?” Hisashi said. “No. I forbid it.”

“My lord Hisashi, while I certainly respect your opinions very much, I am afraid that this is not something you can forbid me from doing. It is the only way he will leave the clans alone,” you said.

“Stupid bastard,” Hisashi said. “Why doesn’t he just die?”

“He will, once I fight him. I will kill him,” you said.

“And when will that be?” Naoki said.

“After I beat Ten,” you said. The three of them exchanged looks before Hisashi’s expression relaxed.

“Good idea. By attaching such an impossible condition, you can ensure you’ll never have to fight him,” he said.

“It was quick thinking,” Kichiro agreed. It was derision disguised as praise; they, too, did not believe Ten was real. At least Kashimo was upfront about his beliefs — the three heads of the clans were far too political to do anything of the sort, to tell you to your face that what you dreamt of was impossible.

“I do intend to fight him,” you said. “I even offered to make a Binding Vow with him.”

“What?” Hisashi said. You hid the small smile of satisfaction that threatened to overtake your face.

“He said no, of course,” you said. Hisashi gave you a dark look.

“Y/N, you know that Binding Vows are only made between husband and wife, or with oneself, to boost power,” he said. There was a poorly suppressed snort from one of the other two. You assumed it was Naoki, as it seemed the sort of thing he’d do.

“Would you rather I have doomed all of you to death? Kichiro’s baby? Naoki’s wife? Your mother?” you said. “There were special circumstances. We all know that even the combined might of the clans would not be enough to take him down; a Binding Vow that did not even come to fruition is the least of your worries.”

“We cannot fault her,” Naoki said, oddly pale at the mention of his wife. He did not love her, but she was something like a prize for him, a treasured piece of artwork that he did not let anyone touch for fear of anything spoiling her perfection. The thought of Kashimo, wild, ferocious Kashimo, even looking at her was probably too much for him to bear.

“It’s not that I fault her,” Hisashi said. “It’s that she might’ve ended up in a situation where that man could’ve taken advantage of the Binding Vow.”

“He’s not that kind of person,” you said. “Kashimo is many things, but dishonesty and lying are not in his nature. He wants to kill me more than anything, but it will mean nothing if he does it when I am not at my full strength.”

“You trust such a creature far too much,” Naoki said. “He cannot be relied upon, and it does not suit you to believe that he can be.”

“As you say, Naoki,” you said. “At any rate, it is meaningless. We did not make a Binding Vow, and I doubted he would take me up on the offer anyways. It was a bluff, to show my sincerity; one he fell for, as he promised he would not purposefully cause the clans harm.”

“Can his word be counted on?” Kichiro said. “Especially when it is contingent on assurances of a battle that may never happen?”

“For now, at least, he has been allayed,” you said. “I will begin to search for Ten in earnest, so that he does not think I am needlessly delaying our fight.”

“Y/N,” Hisashi said. “You know…even the greatest sorcerers have failed to find Ten.”

“What do you have that the ancient heads of the Big Three Sorcerer Clans do not?” Naoki said. “Ten does not exist. You should give up and hope that someone else kills Kashimo before he gets suspicious.”

“Curses are real,” you said. “Why can this one not be?”

They did not have an answer, but you knew that that did not mean they believed you. After all, if Ten really was real, then why weren’t there more casualties? A Disaster Curse of such magnitude would definitely come with a radius of humans wiped out around him. But there were no reports of the sort, no large areas of total destruction bar those caused by Kashimo and other such sorcerers that did not abide by jujutsu society regulations.

By the candlelight, once you were very certain that Hisashi was asleep, you pulled out the familiar leather-bound book you had been given by the man with the stitch-scarred forehead. Tracing the gold lettering emblazoned on the front cover with your finger, you sounded out the foreign letters in an attempt to burn them in your mind.

“Tales — of — the — Hummingbird,” you said. That was the title of the book, which was written in an entirely different language and was the basis of your cursed technique. You had figured it out some time ago that as long as there was a story about it in this book, you could do anything.

Your technique related to a little bird from across the world, according to the stitch-scarred man. He said that this bird had been locked in an eternal conflict with the lord of the sky, but it had never managed to defeat such a mighty being with its tiny body. So, he had explained, the bird decided to give its powers to a larger being, one that was capable of the strength needed to exorcise him.

That being was you, and the powers were your cursed technique, the Hummingbird’s Blessing. Your entire purpose, your reason for living, was to defeat Ten. That was why you knew he was real, and that was why you knew you would be the one to kill him. You had to. There was no other explanation for your existence if you did not.

It was slow-going, translating the book. Even now, you had only made it a fraction of the way through, had only unlocked a few of the powers that you actually possessed. Certainly, they were enough, at least when combined with your swordsmanship, but you knew that you needed more if you really wanted to fight Ten.

You slept fitfully as you always did, the same nightmare invading your mind and warding away any thoughts of rest. It was a vision of the moment your parents died, one that you relived despite not having been there.

“Listen,” your father said. “We are not the ones meant to destroy him. You know that.”

“Then why did we heed the call?” your mother said. Your father stared out at the horizon. The sky was a dark gray, a dry wind blowing through the grassy field and making the stalks sway. Only a few dreary rays of sunlight managed to fight through and light the scene, though instead of comforting, it actually added to the eeriness.

“She is the one who must do it,” he said, neatly avoiding the question.

“She is a little girl!” your mother said.

“I know,” he said.

“We cannot give such a burden to our daughter. She is a child. Our child. We are meant to protect her!” she said, clinging to the sleeve of his flowing robe. It was frayed and flecked with mud; your mother’s face was the same, a smear of something dark across her face.

“This is greater than us,” your father said.

“We were called here,” your mother said. “It’s true, I understand that we were not blessed like she was, but we were the ones called here. Not her.”

“That’s because Ten doesn’t know about her yet. He only knows that the Hummingbird’s Blessing has settled upon our home. He believes that either you or I have garnered his enemy’s favor, and so he means to defeat us as a show of force, stomping out the threat before it develops into something actually dangerous,” your father said. Your mother’s eyes widened.

“So Y/N is still safe?” she said.

“She must be allowed to live and train in peace. By giving ourselves up, Ten will be lulled into a false sense of security. I have promised Kamin Gojo that she will marry his son — the Gojos longs for power so greatly, they have since the Six Eyes disappeared — so she should be alright under his care,” he said.

“But what about her technique? How will she learn about it?” she said.

“I made a deal with someone. He’ll tell her what she needs to know,” your father said.

“What did you offer him?” your mother said, taking a single step backwards at the grave expression on your father’s face.

“That is a concern for a later date,” he said. “Rest assured that it was a mutually beneficial arrangement, so he’s not likely to harm her.”

“So this is it, then?” she said. “Will Y/N be able to —?”

“She will avenge us,” your father said. “She definitely will.”

The wind began to pick up in earnest, whipping your mother’s hair around, your father’s robes flowing out behind him. Your mother cried out in fear, and wordlessly, your father wrapped his arms around her, shielding her with his body as best as he could.

The storm howled in protest, surrounding them as they clung to one another, ripping their flesh from their bones and not subsiding until all that was left was a pair of pristine skeletons, still locked in an embrace, forever intertwined until such a day that someone came to bury them.

It always ended there, but today, you forced yourself to stay asleep, purposefully staying in the swirling eddies of darkness, standing beside your parents’ skeletons, ignoring the storm.

‘There is a story,’ you thought to yourself, ‘where the hummingbird is sent to see what is above the blue sky. Let me also see. Show me where Ten is.’

You have been given the Vision of the Hummingbird!

You could see everything; consequently, you could see nothing. There was a soaring expanse of ultramarine in front of you, teeming with life and overwhelming your senses. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

‘Ten,’ you thought. ‘I do not need to see everything. Only him.’

A dizzying sensation like vertigo rushed through you, and you dared to crack open your eyes. You were in that same field, only this time there was a definite presence there, someone else glaring at you.

You dare intrude upon my Domain?

It had to be Ten. There was no one else it could be, but even the simple sentence was enough. The reason why all of the other sorcerers had not yet found him was because he lived in his own Domain, hidden away from humanity in its relative safety.

Wait. You are —!

Of course he would recognize you, the one who bore the blessings of his natural enemy. To your surprise, there was no anger in his voice when he spoke next.

Hello again, little hummingbird. I should’ve known you would not have fallen as easily as those two fools did. Ah, well, it was my mistake for growing complacent, wouldn’t you say? Anyways. You mean to fight me, I am sure. So predictable, little hummingbird, though I guess you always have been.

It felt less like he was talking to you and more like he was conversing with the being that had blessed you, for which you were just a conduit. In Ten’s presence, though you could not so much as see him, you were frozen. This was the strength of a Disaster Curse, which made even a sorcerer like you unable to do anything.

You know the typical procedures for it. Do you really want to challenge me? Last time, you were defeated before even reaching my Domain. Is this new body really strong enough to do it?

You did not respond, but Ten must’ve sensed your intent, for he chuckled.

I expected nothing less from you. Very well, then. It will be done. You may try again. I will find it just as amusing to kill you this time as I did the last. After all, no new body can change the fact that at the end of the day, you are just a tiny bird facing off against the lord of the sky himself.

You woke up with a startled gasp, throwing your blankets off of you in a cold sweat. The story of the hummingbird seeing above the blue sky was one you had only just translated the night before, and you had immediately put it into practice without much thought. Part of you had believed it would not work, and you were shaken by the fact that it had, by the fact that you had actually managed to reach Ten.

It was only when you stood to ready yourself for the day that you realized there was a chain hanging around your neck which had not been there before. It was a fine, delicate thing, with a pendant on it. Holding it up to the light, you realized it was a miniature wheel, reflecting the morning into your eyes.

You let it drop, and it thudded against the hollow of your collarbone. Frowning, you wondered when it had appeared. There was only one logical explanation: this was some mark of Ten’s, affirming that your dream had been real, that you had finally challenged the Disaster Curse who so many did not believe to exist.

What was the typical procedure? How were you supposed to find his Domain? The hummingbird must’ve known, but it offered no solutions nor aid. This was not a surprise — unless you could come up with a story or myth surrounding the hummingbird to justify it, you could not use its powers or knowledge.

“Where did you get that necklace?” Hisashi said as the two of you sat together, eating breakfast. You wished he was not so observant, but it seemed that even without the Six Eyes, keenness was an inherited trait of the Gojo clan.

“I woke up with it on,” you said. Hisashi frowned.

“Y/N…I am not so sure I like this,” he said. “First, you offer to make a Binding Vow with another man, and now, you are wearing a strange necklace? I don’t mean to control you, you know that I would never want to do that, but please understand that I am a little confused.”

“You are well within your rights to be confused, though I maintain that my offer of a Binding Vow with Kashimo really was to protect you, so you shouldn’t hold that against me,” you said.

“Even if I put that behind us, the necklace…?” he said mournfully.

Hisashi was a pretty man. There was no doubt about this; his hair was a brilliant white, and no amount of careful combing and precise parting could ever make it appear truly neat. His eyes were a deep shade of purple — not the diamond hue of the Six Eyes, which no one in his clan had inherited in years, but still a notable and lovely color. There were worse people you could’ve been engaged to; he was kind, and he was beautiful, and he treated you well. But you were not born to marry Hisashi Gojo.

“It is from Ten,” you said.

“Pardon?” he said.

“I’m not lying to you, Hisashi. Really, I’m not. Last night, I was translating Tales of the Hummingbird, and I came across a story of the hummingbird flying above the sky to see what lay beyond it. I used that to get the Vision of the Hummingbird, and with that, I met Ten,” you said.

“You met Ten,” he said, and despite his best efforts, he could not help but sound dubious.

“He resides in a Domain,” you said. Hisashi’s lips parted in shock, but you pressed forward. “That’s why no one’s been able to find him yet, and why he hasn’t messed with humans on a large scale. He lives in his Domain!”

“Where is the Domain?” he said.

“Well, ah…I don’t know,” you admitted, your shoulders slumping.

“Huh? You don’t know?” he said. You shook your head.

“I challenged him in my dream, or the hummingbird did; I don’t know, it was all very confusing. He mentioned that last time it was defeated before even reaching the Domain, which implies the fight begins outside of it,” you said.

Hisashi still thought you were delusional, but he was kind and loyal and he would not say that to your face, so he only nodded.

“The necklace is proof of the challenge, then?” he said gently.

“Yes,” you said. “I will be quick about it, Hisashi, I promise. I will be quick enough that Kashimo does not grow restless and slaughter all of you in my absence.”

“I doubt he will,” Hisashi said. It was rare to hear him speak of Kashimo in any way but negatively, so you cocked your head at him, hoping he would explain. Thankfully, he took the hint and elaborated. “Though I do not like giving him any credit, it’s true that he respects you. You are his only equal; he treats you differently for that fact. Maybe he wouldn’t honor a promise with any of the rest of us, but you — he would definitely honor one with you, I think.”

“I’m glad you see that now,” you said. Hisashi gave you a sad look.

“If I were born in another body, one with the Six Eyes and Limitless, we, too, would be equals,” he said.

“That’s not true. You’d be far stronger than me if that was the case,” you said. He chuckled.

“Yet here we are. You are the strong one,” he said. “And in no way could I be considered your equal.”

“Do you resent me for it?” you said. You would not be angry if he did. It would make sense, so how could you blame him?

“No,” he said. “Maybe I resent him.”

“Resent Kashimo?” you said. Hisashi pursed his lips.

“You and he are the ones who will be remembered,” he said. “I — even Kichiro and Naoki — will fade into obscurity as just another one of the heads of the Gojo clan. Nothing I can do matters. But…but I am definitely sure that your fight with him will never be forgotten. He will go down in history as the god of lightning, and you will go down as the one who killed him.”

There was that inferiority that the three clan heads had. By position, they were the most powerful men in all of jujutsu society. But when it came down to it, if one asked an entirely random sorcerer who they believed to be the strongest, it would not be Hisashi’s name they would say, nor would it be Kichiro’s or Naoki’s. Men with their prized inherited techniques, even they could not hold a candle to the two of you.

Hajime Kashimo. Y/N L/N. Those were the names they’d say. Even back then, even from the beginning when you did not know each other, you and he had been two sides of the same coin. The blessed and the divine.

It had been a short meeting, that first one. You and Hisashi had gone to save some village from a curse, and upon exorcising it, you had met him. He must have been wandering about, he was prone to doing that, and upon seeing you wielding your sword and the Hummingbird’s Blessing, he had realized that you were she, the one everyone hailed as the single other strongest sorcerer of the age.

I want to kill you, he had said to you, ignoring Hisashi completely, and to that you had replied no. No, you cannot kill me. Naturally, he had asked why? So you had told him this: my life is not mine to give but someone else’s. A deity’s. I am sworn to fulfill that deity’s mission. You cannot kill me because only that deity’s enemy can.

They call me the god of lightning, he had said. Am I not then also a deity? You had laughed at him. Of course you are not. Well, who am I to judge? Maybe you are. But if that is the case, then you are the wrong one. You will have to wait to fight me, I am afraid.

He had smiled, and then, to everyone’s surprise, he had taken a step back and nodded. Very well, he had told you, rolling his eyes at Hisashi’s protective stance and the villagers cowering behind you. Y/N L/N? If that is what I must do, then I will do it. I will wait for you.

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zanarkandfayth · 1 year ago

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trope rating game

as a mutual I'm considering myself tagged by @quartzguts lol. also leaving it in its own post cos I ain't bothering to find the original.

rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic? -10 -> very dissuaded

0 - don’t care either way

+10 -> very enticed

nope -> if it’s a hard no and you’d never click on a fic with that tag or or you even have the tag blocked or you’d insta click out of the fic if it wasn’t tagged. Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it’s conditional.

Age gap: 0 It's not going to make me not click, but it's not going to make me click either. I have some ships that are age gap for sure (tidus/auron, roy/ed, kratos/lloyd and no we will NOT talk about how they're all adult father or mentor figures to teen boys lmao) but the age gap doesn't really factor into it. it's also not in spite of it, it's just... there. I enjoy when it's used in a fic with my ships but it's not a draw.

Codependency: +10 I will admit, I prefer when it's romantised. Two characters who are so in love that they would genuinely die for each other, or kill for each other, who can't fathom living without each other, who might have other friends/family but are never going to value them to the same level, who make each other their entire world, all of it to unhealthy levels that would be unnerving as fuck in real life... I live for that shit. gimme. dear god pls gimme.

Obsession/Possessiveness, jealousy: -8 moooostly a no for me, if the summary is really enticing and presents as more of a character study or a short look into a relationship, I'll give it a go. and I don't mind a pinch of jealousy in a ship fic if it doesn't overall really affect the relationship. but otherwise it's not my thing. I need my characters to be madly and sometimes unhealthily in love, but I need it to be them against the world, not them against each other.

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine etc): 0 It's like age gap. I have some ships that are this but it's not because the trope does anything for me. It's just kinda there.

Enemies to lovers, Enemies with benefits: -10 it's not a hard nope, it just doesn't work for me. I can't think of any ships I have that are genuine enemies to lovers. rivals to lovers, that I can do, but there needs to be some sort of mutual respect there even if they annoy the shit out of each other, and they still need to be more or less on the same "side" so to speak. if they genuinely hate each other (or even if it's one-sided) and they're on opposite sides, I can't do it. Friends with benefits: +2 never seen a fic tagged with this tbh. I think I would click if it sounded interesting enough? I mean my one serious irl relationship started as this so I can hardly hate the concept 😂 but if it's not a gen fic then I'm really a sucker for the romance between my blorbos so if it didn't lead to that it would really depend on how the fic is presented.

Sex to feelings: +7 I feel like this could have been combined with FWB lol. basically if it involves my ships and they were friends with benefits who develop the feels and actually get together, then yes. anything else, no. I've read exactly one fic like that and even though it's no longer my ship it was still REALLY damn good so I'd be very likely to click if I saw another that was one of my ships.

Fake dating/relationship: +8 it's funny cos I never seek these out but when I see one I'm almost always like YES. I especially love if one of them is in denial about their feelings and keep trying to come up with excuses until they can't anymore. I also just love the awkwardness of the scene(s) where they're having to actively pretend and the person they're pretending to is totally oblivious and it's just hilarious and good cringe and gjskdgjksd I love it. not a +10 because I occasionally I come across ones where they don't wind up together for real and then I'm just left all sad xD

Friends to lovers: +100 this is like 99% of my ships haha. LISTEN AS A DEMIRO IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT REALLY MAKES SENSE TO ME. bonus if it's childhood friends to lovers. (ignoct, my beloved)

Found Family: +10 My daddy issues make me love this one lmao. My found family loves are largely either older father/mentor figures to younger guys, or two or more characters who view each other as a family of sorts, with or without any specific labels because I don't think found family necessarily needs to shoehorn characters into nuclear family roles, though sometimes it just works that way and it's fine.

Hurt/Comfort: ∞ yes pls. I can read cute fluff and smile at it, but nothing gets my feels going like hurt/comfort. me and hurt/comfort are in a codependent relationship except the codependency is all on my side. it's fine. I'd die for you, hurt/comfort. you're my world. I don't need anyone else.

Love Triangle: nope can't fucking stand it, sorry. it's not a blocked tag but I'm never gonna click on it, not even once.

Poly, open relationships: +5 poly yes, open relationships no. the poly ships gotta be closed. if they are then it's like any other non-poly ship for me. if my blorbos are all in mutual agreement to be together with each other and no one else, I'm good.

Mistaken/hidden identity: -10 zero interest Monsterfucking: +10 it's time for me to once again lament how little there is of this in the ffxv fandom, at least with noct. fandom??? can we please??? like pretty please??? THE MONSTERS ARE RIGHT THERE. I haaaaate writing smut but one of these days I swear I'm gonna give in and write that very specific non-con monsterfucking (plant) tentacle oviposition sex pollen fic I have so very desperately wanted with noct since 2019 now. lmao.

Pregnancy: ??? idk how to rate this. it squicks me out, buuut my daddy issues have given me a weakness for seeing my blorbos become dads, so like. if we skip the specific details, then depending on the fic and what it focuses on it's fine and I'd click? not that there's many/any out there that have it in the flavour I like.

Second Chance: 0 I... don't know cos I'm not sure what this refers to.

Slowburn: +8 I give it an 8 because even though I love it, I still need it to be friends to lovers 🤣 if they don't even know each other at the start of the fic? miss me with that thanks. but otherwise I'm fine if it takes 300K to actually kiss.

Soulmates: -10 Can't get into this, at least not the way the trope is presented in fics. Maybe it's my being demiro rearing its head again, but the entire concept of someone being predetermined for you since birth and you gotta wait until you meet and your marks match or whatever and you're stuck with them whether you like them or not is just??? baffling??? like??? idk, no shade to people who like it, it just doesn't click for me. I've tried some and I've always given up after the first few chapters.

Tagging whoever wishes to spend an hour doing this that hasn't already done so!

#tag game

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dreamkidddream · 4 years ago

Note

I absolutely loved the doll! mc one with the brothers and diavolo. Could I ask for the same idea with the rest of the undateables and luke? If it isn't too much though. Thank you very much, don't forget to take care of yourself and stay hydrated!

I’m glad you enjoyed the first part!! I hope you’re staying safe through this pandemic and that you’re drinking plenty of water. I’m so happy that people liked the Doll!MC scenario so much (it even became one of my top posts and I was NEVER expecting that to happen 😳 click here to read it with the Bros and Diavolo). I got an UR card for Barbatos today and immediately thought back to this scenario cause I was just imagining the different situations with Doll!MC. Hope you enjoy!

Also, Luke’s part is strictly platonic, just FYI!

The Undateables (Minus Diavolo) with Doll!MC

Barbatos

Let me just say, you make this man’s day so much better

Your presence is just so calming for him. You could just be standing there (which is heavily enforced in the kitchen), not doing anything, and he would still be fully relaxed

Definitely loves you being in the kitchen with him, and will find ways to invite you so that you guys can spend time together

“MC, the young master has a tea party planned for this afternoon, and I’m afraid I may need your assistance to help prepare.”

“But Barb, I thought you didn’t want me touching anything-”

“I don’t want you touching anything that can cause you harm. I can easily handle the labor, but I do have a task for you...”

Cue to you sitting perfectly still and taste testing his sweets

“Barb, are you sure that I’m helping you like this? I don’t want to be useless to you!”

“Nonsense, MC. This is perfect. I needed someone with an exceptional palette, and you’re just the right person for me.”

Just you and him, and his sweet creations. What more could he ask for?

Maybe being in a relationship with you, but he is very sure that it’s going to be happening in the near future...and he didn’t even have to use his powers to know that

He stares at you a lot. He can’t help it, he loves to just admire you!

Barbatos is the type of guy where he doesn’t have to rely on words to express his love. His love language is acts of service: packing you lunch and extra sweets every week, giving you recipes that he wouldn’t even share with Luke, and gifting you mini accessories that you can wear with your outfits!

He gave you this adorable three-legged crow holding a cupcake hairpin and you’ve been wearing it ever since

He tries to hide his blush everytime he sees you and now he has to work even harder because of the pin lmao

HAVING YOUR OWN TEA PARTIES WEEKLY

You both have a designated day and time where you don’t plan anything in order to have your own tea parties

No Diavolo, no noisy demon brothers, no other exchange students (sorry Luke). Just you and him, enjoying each other’s company and him basking in your glow

If someone did try to harm you, he would already know of it and properly disposes of the problem. Lord Diavolo can’t afford to have any issues interfering with the exchange program, and he can’t afford to have anything happen to you so...no harm no foul, right?

Please continue to do what you’re doing MC. Stare at him with your bright, doe eyes and give him that lively smile everytime. It makes his day go by much easier, especially since he knows that you’ll still be there, waiting for him with your own desserts and that smile reserved just for him

Simeon

Was convinced that you were an angel

Lowkey still convinced that you’re an angel

Really, you just look so...angelic

Wasn’t upset when you revealed that you were in fact human; he was happy because this meant that he could show you around the Celestial Realm!

Speaking of Celestial Realm, be prepared for Simeon to be your very own personal tour guide everytime. This could be your 50th time up there and he’ll still try to point new things out

“And over here is-”

“Michael’s favorite resting place, since the lilies always seem to bloom whenever he’s around,” you giggled. “I remember Simeon, you tell me this everytime we visit!”

He’s a tad embarrassed

“Forgive me, MC. It seems that I get so elated over the fact that you’re here with me, I tend to repeat some things over.”

“That’s okay! I still have fun with you everytime!”

Oh MC, you’re too adorable!

Which causes him to worry over you. While he knows that the brothers and Diavolo (along with Barbatos) wouldn’t dare cause you any distress, the same couldn’t be said for the other demons lurking around, both in and out of RAD

But not to fear, Simeon your friendly guardian angel is here!

I am so sorry for the rhyme lmao

He may not have been personally assigned to you, but that doesn’t mean he can just let anything happen to you! He’s only doing his heavenly duties in protecting you! He’s also being a good friend by watching over you too, his little lamb

He wouldn’t attack anyone, but if he made a complaint or a very serious concern to the right person (Lucifer or Diavolo), consider the problem handled

You have your own tea time as well, and Luke would join you sometimes. But, every now and then, Luke would have to finish some homework or study, or Barbatos would miraculously call for him at the castle, or if it was just too late and Luke just had to go to sleep, then it would just be you two. Sitting by the fireplace, discussing matters ranging from RAD to your life in the human world, drinking tea that you would take turns preparing

Not to mention the downright dainty little cakes you would bring. One time you brought him angel cakes and he found so lighthearted and precious that he requested you bring them everytime, just for him

May or may not base a character in his new story around you

Simeon wants to shield you from the horrors that are surrounding you both. You’re so pure, he just wants you safe. From the way that you would dress to the way that your eyes would just look so amazed and innocent at him, he just knows that he needs to watch over you, always. The brothers do get a little wary when they see how much time you do spend at Purgatory Hall, but they know that Simeon couldn’t possibly have feelings for you, and you were always so giddy after leaving there, they couldn’t bring themselves to say anything

And Simeon knew that he was starting to feel more than he should. He couldn’t profess his love for you now in risk of falling, but he can wait until you get your wings. Just imagining you in your cute little Ceslestial Realm outfit (which he hopes still mimicked your current style) with your very own beaming halo was enough to keep him waiting and to make sure that you stayed on the right path

He deemed that you were worth the wait

Luke

BFFs! BFFs!

When he first saw you he could just cry

Someone innocent like you got sent down here with these monsters?! He had to keep you safe!!!

Simeon thought you were angel and then realized that you were not; Luke thought you were an angel and refused to believe that you weren’t

You didn’t have it in you to burst his bubble so soon, so you just let him run with it until Simon broke the news

It was like telling a kid that Santa Claus wasn’t real; you can only imagine how Luke took the revelation

Not well from what Solomon told you. Simeon kept saying he just needs some time to process things, and you just felt so awful about the whole thing

Which lead to you bringing him so much sweets that it made Beel jealous and very upset

But we all know how Beel can be around food, so it wasn’t a huge surprise. He chased you around all day and you had to use your pact to get him to stop!

And you promised to make him double the sweets in he forgave you so all is well

Luke was still obviously sad, but he wasn’t going to stay sad forever. Especially not after you brought this many sweets just for him!

Lucifer was not a happy demon when Simeon arrived at the HoL’s doorstep with you groaning and clutching your stomach. And Solomon took so many pictures of Luke while he passed out from his sugar high that he dedicated a whole album in his phone to it

Favorite activity to do together: Baking! (Obviously)

Trading recipes, shopping for ingredients together, baking things for each other to try (where really it was just to have double the desserts)

When you two are in the kitchen together, no one else is allowed (except for Simeon, but only if he’s looking and not touching). It’s now MC and Luke time, everybody else is gonna have to wait!

Luke only wants you to do the the activities that he sees as harmless: which is everything that doesn’t include sharp items and anything else that can hurt you

“MC get away from that! That can seriously hurt you! Let me get it for you instead!

“Luke, honey, it’s just an oven it’s not my first time using one-”

Too late, he already took it out of your hands into his own, mitts already on

Speaking of oven mitts

You guys have matching aprons and mitts!!

Barbatos may be a little bit jealous, but he likes the bond that you two have. And he knows that Luke won’t be a romantic rival so he’s alright lol

Luke is your deemed protector/bodyguard, and he proudly wears the title since no one bothers you because of him (or so he thinks). Everyone makes fun of him calling him a chihuahua, but jokes on him, when Luke complains, he complains

Won’t take long for Simeon or even one of the brothers to pick up on his whines complaints if he thinks someone is bothering you

Luke believes that while he’s small, he can protect you and try to keep you free from danger. He may be young, but he sees himself as the older brother out of you both (even though it’s really you being the older sibling and him being the baby). Always looking out for you especially since you’re too fragile to be left alone!

You’re one of the only people that genuinely likes him and don’t make fun of him. You’re dear to him MC, please don’t ever change!

Also, he definitely talks to Michael about you all the time so excitedly and sends him sweets that you both made together. Michael is a proud dad at this point

Solomon

Knew you wasn’t a doll but loved to tease you about being one anyway

Was there a spell that can really turn you into a doll? You wouldn’t mind if he tried it out on you, right MC?

Don’t tempt him please because he WILL do it

“Tell me, MC. Hypothetically speaking, if I were to purchase-”

“No Solomon, you can’t shrink me down to fit me into a dollhouse, no matter how nice it sounds. Besides, I can’t bake in a dollhouse, the oven wouldn’t work!”

“I can fix that.”

You’re very amusing to him for some reason. Was it because of how doll-like you are? The fairytale way that you dressed? How you were still human and was able to live with seven of the most powerful demons and not die? Maybe it’s the way that you still radiated such positivity despite being in literal Hell?

Honestly all of the above

TEACHING HIM HOW TO COOK/BAKE

Poor Solomon doesn’t realize that his cooking isn’t...the best

And you took the best approach in helping him atleast cook something that looks edible

You didn’t say his cooking was disgusting like some people (literally everyone else), so he took that you giving him lessons was a date of sorts

He wasn’t complaining. Your time spent in the kitchen was scenes straight of a romcom (no matter how cheesy it sounds); his arms wrapped around your waist and dotting icing on your pretty nose

May or may not have licked some icing off of you at one point, will definitely do it again

Solomon is a very confident man, borderline arrogant (Oh who am I kidding he IS arrogant). So yes, while people may see you as an easy target, he’s here to remind them that you’re not. And that if they want to try, chances are they won’t be walking away in one piece

He’s powerful, too powerful in fact. He may not be the strongest physically, but if even the entire student council recognizes his knowledge and what he’s capable of, no one should be dumb enough to test him (keyword: try)

But he wouldn’t mind showing off if it’s for you

You’re one of the only beings to ever peak Solomon’s interest genuinely. Yes, he loved to tease and bug you whenever he pleased, but you also made him want to come around you more and more. He was drawn to you, and that doesn’t happen a lot with him (at least without ulterior motives)

*coughcough* making pacts *coughcough*

You were the only thing that made Solomon feel weak, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Don’t get him wrong, he’s still The Greatest Sorcerer, but he couldn’t help but feel himself get weak in the knees when you gazed at him with so much sincerity. He loves it and loves you

Once your back in the human world, he’s going to be so selfish with you. I mean, he already kinda was now, but this time there won’t be any interruptions or distractions around to take your attention

Us humans have to stick together, and what better way to stick together than to be together, wouldn’t you say MC?

#obey me x reader #obey me reader insert #obey me undateables #undateables x reader #obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #simeon x reader #simeon x mc #obey me simeon #obey me luke #luke is baby

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reginarubie · 3 years ago

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The younger, more beautiful Queen - Cersei and Sansa (and Daenerys and Margaery; and Brienne of Tarth)

When Cersei recalls Maggy the Frog's prophecy about her being casted down by a younger, more beautiful queen we were all ready, thinking that younger, more beautiful Queen was supposed to be Sansa; then Margaery entered the picture and how could anyone actually ignore the dragon queen in the east and the threat she posed to Cersei and everything she stood for?

At which point many theorized each and every of three girls, younger and all described as beautiful may be the younger, more beautiful queen and would fulfill a part of Cersei's prophecy, each taking something she cared for from her. Which has many merits, especially thinking about how much Martin dislikes prophecies and likes playing around with them nudging towards the realization that we as people are the one who make our own destiny with Cersei being the real catalyst of everything Maggy the Frog prophetized for her.

Under the cut, my own personal vision of this prophecy and why I think that, no matter who will actually cause Cersei's downfall directly, Sansa (assuming she ending as QitN is also book!endgame, which we have good reason to believe it shall be so) is actually the younger, more beautiful queen.

People way more talented than me have already talked about this matter, but I wanted to give my input about it as well because I like to talk and this has been sitting in my files way too long and now I've decided to share with you all to see what you think about it.

Beneath her golden curls, the girl's face wrinkled up in puzzlement. For years after, she took those words to mean that she would not marry Rhaegar until after his father Aerys had died. "I will be queen, though?" asked the younger her.

"Aye." Malice gleamed in Maggy's yellow eyes. "Queen you shall be ... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear."

Anger flashed across the child's face. "If she tries I will have my brother kill her."

Maggy 's prophecy has haunted Cersei all these years since first the words had been uttered and it's no wonder. Now, we know Cersei married the king - Robert Baratheon, first of his name - after he had won the Realm through conquest and we also know that the other part of Maggy's prophecy, about Cersei having three children and the King many more than her. So it stands to reason that this part may also come to be true in some way or the other.

Though show!canon has derailed and distanced itself from book!canon, it must hold some kind of importance that Cersei asks Jaime to find Sansa and kill her especially if we connect it with what child Cersei told Maggy the Frog "if she tries I will have my brother kill her"; while she easily, in the show, decides she will be the one to cause Margaery demise as well as Daenerys's.

But let's break the prophecy and try to determinate what exactly it may mean to Cersei now.

Maggy tells her that she will be the Queen for a time, which we know to be the truth, and that she will have three children while the king (Robert) will have over seventeen. She also tells Cersei that one day another may come, that she will be younger and more beautiful.

Note, the first person we know Cersei describes as beautiful, by her words, is Sansa both in show and the book.

In the very first episode of the series, when Martin was still very much part of the writing process of the episodes, Cersei comments on Sansa's beauty and on how it would be wasted in the North (foreshadowing in my opinion Sansa growing past her enamourment with beauty and return North to stay, but I digress).

While in Sansa VI, AGOT, she states "such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you"

Also, note that this is said about Margaery Tyrell in AFFC in Cersei III: “When all the vows were spoken, the king and his new queen stepped outside the sept to accept congratulations. "Westeros has two queens now, and the young one is as beautiful as the old one," boomed Lyle Crakehall, an oaf of a knight who oft reminded Cersei of her late and unlamented husband.”

(Guess maybe it can’t be Margaery after all tho I do remember someone saying someone else, someone younger — Catelyn about Sansa — would grow even more beautiful than she was and though she did not mean to confront Sansa with Cersei, but with herself, the phrasing did stuck me as strange)

So this girl coming to cast Cersei down will be younger (and all candidates for the place are younger than Cersei) and more beautiful (now this could be as simple as a math count of how many times each candidate is described as beautiful and confront that number with Cersei's).

The counts now stands as following:

Sansa: 18 times (without sharing those times with anyone, all on her own; 2 times she is defined as more beautiful than someone older)

Drawing by @innocent-enyo; sorry I took your pics, I fell in love with them! If it bothers you I will take them down!

Cersei: 17 times (thyo sometimes shared with Margaery so the counts, if we count the shared times with Margaery goes up to 20)

Drawing always by innocent-enyo.

[honorable mention] Brienne of Tarth: 8 times (wouldn’t it be just perfect if Brienne did manage of convince Jaime to fuck loyalty and follow her instead of Cersei? Oh wait… that’s already show canon) after all if every girl can be the another younger, more beautiful who will take (something) everything from Cersei why not Brienne the Beauty?, especially since it’s said sarcastically yet she is far more fair and beautiful in character than Cersei is. I would appreciate the irony and the twist, all I am saying 🤷🏼‍♀️

Drawing by Lucas Werneck.

Margaery: 7 times(of which 3 shared with Cersei)

Margaery Tyrell by innocent-enyo as well.

Daenerys: only 5 times (?! I am surprised as well, tho to be fair she is described as the most beautiful woman in the world once and she was asked if she had grown more beautiful in a lapse of time, but never confronted to another older)

Daenerys Targaryen by innocent-enyo again!

So we have a neck-to-neck between Sansa and Cersei.

And tho I do think each girl will fulfill part of the prophecy (to save Margaery from her marriage to Joffrey he is killed, which catalyses the series of events which brings to Tywin’s death and Myrcella’s; Brienne did convince in the show Jaime to leave Cersei behind for a time; Sansa took her legacy in a way becoming the second ruling queen of a kingdom of Westeros; Margaery in a way took away Tommen as well in the show since learning of her death he committed suicide; Daenerys took the throne and the promise of the child in the show) I think Sansa will be in the end the younger more beautiful queen because the stress on the prophecy is put on the fact that this Queen will take everything Cersei’s holds dear…

…what did Cersei want? [note; now we enter in the show only realm and book hypothesis of the story since we have yet to see the last two books]

To save and protect those she loved; she failed by her ultimate fault;

have the younger, more beautiful queen and enemy killed by her brother (lover)

To sit on the throne as queen regnant because she feels she deserves it.

To be with the man she loves publicly.

What did Sansa achieve by the end of the show:

She marched her troops South and managed to get Jon free and her plotting assured that her siblings were safe (they protected her as well)

Her “brother” (lover?, Martin I have faith in you) killed her rival (Daenerys) to protect her and their family.

She gains the North independence and is named Queen in the North and is the queen with the strongest power love and loyalty (“Ned Stark’s daughter will speak for them, she’s the best they could ask for” and “we didn’t choose you to rule us m’lady but perhaps we should have”)

I truly believe in the books she will end up (or it will be hinted at) with a man she loves or will grow to love.

So, imo, while each and every girl may take something from Cersei and perhaps none of them (fAegon I’m looking at you, sweetie) or only one of them will manage to directly cause her death and defeat in the end Sansa will be the younger, more beautiful Queen because all that Cersei held dear and wanted she managed to achieve and she will be remembered the way Cersei wanted to be remembered, which is ultimately imo the true meaning of Maggy the Frog’s prophecy.

#younger more beautiful queen #asoiaf theories #cersei lannister #sansa stark #daenerys targaryen #margaery tyrell #brienne of tarth

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tiens-letters · 4 years ago

Text

with these hands, I vowed to love you

with these hands, I vowed to care for you

and with these hands, I ruined you

Childe (angst)

tw : slight gore and just pure pain

...

It was that time of the year again, going back to the snowy region was a bliss for you. Having to visit your fiancée's family was an unspoken tradition after he introduced you to them. They practically took you in as one of them immediately, especially that little angel brother of his.

Teucer.

The train ride was comfortable , the window giving you the familiar beauty of the snowy landscape of snezhenaya. It was snug inside the rather spacious compartment Childe rented out, even when you told him that you'd rather share a normal one due to your thrifty nature he'd shrug it off, claiming it that he has too much mora and nowhere to spend it on other than you.

Gifts from him would scare you as you knew these weren't anywhere cheap. Everything he gave was expensive, he loved showering you in gifts and it made you feel so overwhelmed.

"Ajax, you're spending too much." you were visibly sweating beside him as he picked out another one of the dresses on display at the local boutique of Liyue.

"I think this one would suit you better, don't you think so love?" of course he wasn't listening, placing the dress in front of you

"Ajax." you frowned at him

" I just want to spoil you." he whines

"I know but sometimes its just..." you stopped yourself before saying anything further in fear of offending him

"Was it too much again?" the tone in his voice softens as he puts back the dress, he knew how you didn't like that habit of his, formed from the first time he saw you down by the docks.

"One dress, Ajax. One is enough since you picked it out for me." you gave in not wanting to see him so dejected, he immediately brightens up as he pecks you on cheek before rushing off to a different aisle of clothing. Sighing, you sat down on the sofa present in the shop, watching the ginger decide thoroughly of what dress to buy.

But of course, your love for one another runs deeper than things bought off gold nor silver. No, it ran deeper than anything else, rivaling the oceanic depths.

"What are you thinking about hmm?" he hums below you, head resting against your lap.

"Im just happy to be visiting again, that's all." you smile, nimble hands brushing through his soft hair "Sleep well?"

"You bet I did." he grins taking your hand and placing a kiss to your beating pulse and then another and another, showering you in his deeply rooted affection. Soon his kisses reached where they are supposed to belong, those soft lips of yours and then inching their way to the sensitive spots on your neck, leaving marks only he can place on you.

Breathless and bothered, you pushed him back "The attendants are gonna see, you idiot." at least you still had some control in you

"They will only arrive when we call them , so its fine to have a little fun before we arrive." there was that sly grin of his as he continued in where you both left off, ears perking to hear more sounds exclusively for him and him only.

"You horny bastard!"

...

It was cozy by the hearth, you and his siblings huddled together in one single fleece blanket, steaming cups of hot cocoa in hand. Childish giggles and hushed stories erupted amongst you. Teucer having wrapped in your arms as he snuggled closer. Anthon and Tonia flanking your sides.

"Hey, who's fiancé do you think you guys are coveting?"

"Oh don't be like that, your siblings just miss them." his mother chided from the couch where she sat, an open book on her lap, she didn't seem to age and always looked so young that at first you were shocked to have been introduced to her.

"But mom, I haven't seen her all day." her son pouts as if he were still a child denied his candy

"Give me a break, you're always clinging onto her you know." his sister rolls those identical thalassic eyes at him "You wont die if you go a day without her."

"Listen here you little---"

"Ajax." you interjected, as much as you enjoy the siblingly banter of theirs, you cant have them going at each other with offensive words. His pleading gaze aimed at you as he practically begged for you both to go home.

"Please?"

"After I put Teucer to bed." you sighed, standing up with the youngest in your arms

"Seriously this guy." his sister groaned "I was having a good time."

"Tonia dear, we can continue our conversations tomorrow." you winked at her, it was a promise

"Fine."

Both of you bid farewell to his mother and made your way towards Teucer's room and tucking him in.

"Happy?" you turned to your fiancée, a narrowed look in your eyes as he grinned beside you

"Of course, sweetheart!" he pecked your lips as he pulled you closer

"Can you not do it in Teucer's room? Have some shame." his siblings' comments were endless, this time it was from his older brother.

"That's why were going home." Childe picked you up as you made a surprised yelp making the other party roll his eyes "Also, get ready to lose tomorrow brother. I'm getting that white deer for my lady."

"I'm looking forward to it."

The walk was short towards Childe's home as he preferred living alone. It was a grandiose manor and you were sure you will never get used to how big it was and filled with such furnitures of the finest quality.

"Well, how was your day darling?" you hummed, arms snaking around his neck

"Oh you wouldn't believe it."

...

It was there.

You felt it in the cold breeze that wafted into the room.

A shift in the flow of the wind, it was different yet familiar at the same time. Leaving the window open as the harsh temperatures of the night climbed and crawled inside. The curtains danced in the turbulent current of the gale, carrying songs only you could hear. Songs that made mountains tremble and build civilizations at the same time.

there was something foreboding, something terrifying and something heavy and dark that devoured anything in its path.

You heard him first before he came in through those doors, that tousled ginger hair of his caked with melting snowflakes in the warm glow of the lamps. His rugged appearance caused by the hunting competition between him and his older siblings induced his worn out state. That soft yet jaded smile of his was what welcomed you as he trudged inside the bedroom, lazily discarding his clothes on the basket for dirty laundry and entering the bathroom for a quick shower.

"why is the window open? " he asks you, sliding inside the warm covers

"I just wanted fresh air ." you smile as you shut the windows and pull the blinds enough for you to see the moon that hung above the sky. Joining him under the covers, you cradled him, his head resting on the crook of your neck. Your hands finding their way into those soft locks of his , entangling them as he hummed softly against you. Those arms of his that held weapons and skin littered with scars both old and new now held you close, so tenderly as if he'd never taken a life before.

"sing me a song, sweetheart. " his queries were simple yet genuine

"of course." you sang until you equated him to a sleeping newborn

It was warm, so warm that you could have mistaken it for a summer afternoon in Liyue, resting on the couch with silken pillows and window showcasing the view of the harbor below. The steaming cups of soothing tea Beidou would brew for you when nights became cold at times she would pay you a visit after trading that would take weeks, months and rarely years.

you slept.

Why is it cold? you wondered, Did Ajax open the windows?

You were blessed by the tsaritsa so such climates shouldn't matter to you.

You woke up.

A shadow was cast over you by the man youve sung to sleep. Virulent blue eyes looked at you with so much abhorrence, for a second you couldnt recognize them and thought it was a stranger to which you were ready to terminate.

"Ajax?" your voice was hoarse, as you slowly lost the feeling in your lips.

He was crazed, still trapped in that dreaming state of his, drifting between experiences. Today was a re-enactment of a memory he would never speak of, not even to you. There were parts of him he'd never tell you, such a soul as yours should never hear.

You choked and coughed as the metallic taste of mortal ichor filled your throat. How could you have not felt anything earlier? Was it because of your futile attempts to coax Ajax back into reality or was it because of the numerous thoughts your mind came up with to he answer as to why he is in such a virulent state. Excruciating pain filled your whole body as you writhed and struggled under his grip. It felt as if something was being ripped out of you.

"Ajax, darling come back to me." you cried, it took so much to even utter a word as you bled out, you know not where but you could feel it. The liquid vital for your survival was seeping out of you, flowing like a lazy river on an autumns day, only that it was warm, sticky and addicting.

"Ajax?" a hiss comes from that mouth, he cringes as you freed your numb hands to hold his face and he let you, seeing as to there was no point in stopping you as you dangerously danced on a tight rope of life and death. You couldn't tell in that delirious disposition of yours if his eyes were shifting between Ajax or the primal eyes of a beast hunting its prey.

It wasn't too late was it?

But why didn't your eyes meet his?

Who snuffed out all the lights?

"I've abandoned that name a long time ago."

The cold took over you completely, freezing you until you broke under his touch with words left dying in your ichor filled lips

and then fear was the last thing you felt.

fear that he might not return to his sweet, charming self.

fear that he will curse everything in his path.

fear that he might attempt to use different various methods to bring back what was lost

and fear of his ruination.

you care not for your death, even in your last minutes of life, you dare not blame him for what he's endured so far. only wishing he never had to experience such in the first place.

This is what the wind warned you about in its lullaby.

...

Childe woke up for the second time.

Oddly more worn out than the day before, but your songs always worked, how come? . He wondered if you left to make breakfast as the covers felt empty as he reached out for you. No, you were a late riser, always having to slumber in the middle of the warm covers of the bed you both share. It was he who mostly did the cooking in the morning. So your presence gone was a displacement in the moment of his waking.

His eyes had to adjust to the view of the room as he sat up, a yawn escaping his lips as he called for you. The pitter-patter sound of the water on the bathroom tiles were non-existent as he strained his ears to hear for any trace of you.

"What..." he was confused as to why the room was trashed, furniture broken in half and strewn about the room, the drapes shredded and laying on the floor and the mirror shattered to pieces, shards sharp enough to cut through skin yet he slept through such a thing?

his first concern was your safety as you had not been present in the room and it him.

the heavy stench of blood lingered in the air. His enjoyment for such things turned into something suffocating because blood was never shed in his own home nor in his very room. In the state of confusion, something dark caught his peripheral vision. A large blemish in the covers beside him, it was dyed a deep dark crimson and he knew well what it was. He began to shake in worry, telling himself not to panic until he finds you safe. All he could remember was you singing him to sleep, held captive in your soft arms, encased in your warmth, so how did it come to such a morning that looked like a result of a monster's tantrum. He calls out for you, his bare feet on the floor as splinters punctured them and he didnt care. he had to find you.

The hallways looked haunting, the portraits on the walls taunting him and he swore he was going lose it if he hadnt found you sooner, every room was achingly vacant and it felt like a dream. He calls for your name again in a frenzy as he rushes through the place, had the mansion been this big? he thinks as he runs down the stairs.

There in the fireplace, the dying embers of fire lit from the night before, wood giving away and turning into coal as the burning smell mingled with similar stench that engulfed the bedroom, the same dark liquid on the sheets was present as well, only that it was painted into the wall and bled down creating a cascading waterfall.

Because there you were, with arms spread out as if welcoming each and every sinner for solace and blessing them with forgiveness, the drying mortal ichor behind you creating a halo. Your lips upturned into something soft as if you'd do anything disgraceful to keep the effeminacy on a soul lost to ruin.

an angel crucified.

that oh so heavenly face of yours could rival anything beautiful, even statues would crumble under you, nations would go to war for you and bodies of those who want you would turn into a throne built for you and you only. You were immortally ethereal even in death.

Ajax, dear sweet Ajax felt his legs give away, energy having siphoned from him as he trembled so much that it could rival the mountains when they shook. Thalassic eyes, wide blown into grief, anguish and all other emotions crashed against him like strong waves that could drown anyone caught up in it. He knelt as pain spread through him like wildfire, burning, scorching and killing. Agonized cries filled the room and if someone were to pass by, they couldve mistaken it for a dying animal. He gasped and choked on his own breath as he dared to look at you, the tears freely flowing from his eyes, down to his pale cheek and finally falling off his trembling chin to be hungrily absorbed by the carpeted floor that was also tarnished by ichor.

He felt crazed as he wept and in that moment of insanity, he remembered. That most disgusting sin he's ever committed that he should never be pardoned for in the life he has right now and the next ones he will be in. Through the blur of tears, he saw his hands and he wished he didnt.

Sullied hands befitting a murderer.

He screams into the ground, doubling over as his hands find their way into his hair, gripping it and ripping out those jacinthe locks of his. He could never forgive himself now and he never will. He wails out loud until his own throat collapsed into a croaking mess.

and then he couldnt find himself no longer.

The sand of time seemed to trickle down slowly. His eldest siblings came looking for him, to continue the hunt. A once peaceful encounter turned into a nightmarish reality as they witnessed their brother rocking back and forth with you gingerly wrapped in his arms, mumbling your name. Lips pressed to your forehead as he prayed and begged for forgiveness over and over in hushed torn whispers as if it were enough to bring you back and cover that gaping hole in your abdomen.

"What did you do?"

...

"Brother, when are they coming back?"

Oh darling Teucer, innocence reflecting off his eyes as he tugged on his brother's sleeve. The toy you gifted him clutched tightly at his side.

"I dont know kid, their mission was sudden so its best to wait. Can you do that Teuc?" the truth about you was kept behind closed doors, only adults can speak of and if they did, it took time to keep the conversation smooth and off of any grief nor sadness when your name reached their tongue. The younger ones would never know until the time is right. When everything was taken care of and hearts moved on.

Your funeral was held in secrecy yet was it was grand. Something that would hold the significance of your memories with them. It was beautiful, your favorite flowers lined along your coffin, and you. Looking ever so ethereal even when death has kissed you, clad in that dress Childe bought for you.

"uh huh!" the youngest ginger nodded eagerly and skipped away as the eldest sighed into his hands, the pressure weighing heavily on his shoulders as he worried more and more about his younger sibling. Another memory, a mind broken and a his soul withering. was there any way to save him?

Days seemed to go by as any glimpse of the man was scarce. Until one day they ceased to see him altogether. It started at lunch, a week after the funeral when it took everyone to coax him into eating more as he lost weight and trickled down to a whole day. Cooped up in his room, clinging to a pillow with the fading scent of you. and then he was gone, like a snowflake melting upon ones forehead. They grew anxious and thought of the worse until they caught wind that he was back in Liyue from one of the agents only then were they allowed to breathe a little better.

"Childe, what finds you here?" the calm tone of the geo archon's voice broke him out of his trance

"Have you seen my fiance?" Zhongli blinks at the question of the harbinger, he knew what befell you and yet this man before him seemed clueless enough as to what he committed. How Childe did what he did, he seemed to sympathize with in a way that would make him understand his behavior.

" I have not." he couldnt bring himself to tell this man the truth. Perhaps he was sparing him, spearing that mind of his into spiraling down into nothingness and a heart that was held by a thin piece of thread. "Perhaps it is better to enjoy yourself while you wait for them."

To deviate oneself from the loss might be the best way Childe right now until his mind is ready to accept the torment of the heavy truth that would slew this man.

"I see. " he smiles and yet it feels so empty to Childe, the reason? He wouldnt know or atleast his mind wouldnt allow him to know

"Ill see you around then Xiansheng."

Everything that he portrayed lacked and all he could do as he's always did.

...........

i had to.

I hope yall would get Childe :)

#genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact drabbles #childe #childe angst #childe one shot #childe imagine #childe drabble #ajax #tartaglia

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tennessoui · 3 years ago

Note

Hi miss Kit! So um, I'm not the anon who had the idea about the Pokemon obikin AU but I saw that you're still looking for a prompt so I did some brainstorming?

Obviously Anakin is aiming to be a Pokemon Master which is why he'll have to fight the elite four eventually. Which is not an easy task despite what the games might imply! So what if, despite breezing through the gyms before, beating Team Rocket and having a team that is powerful and adores him, he still fails his first attempt at the league.

I remember Prof Oak telling your rival after you beat him in gen 1 that he lost to you because he doesn't love his Pokemon enough which is bullsh*t!! But must surely be a cutting remark.

So ofc he goes to caretaker!Obi-Wan afterwards because he is a former Pokemon trainer so how has he dealt with loss before? Does Anakin really not love his team enough? Bonus points if Obi has challenged the league before (and won??)

I just realized that this is way too angsty for the Pokemon universe >.< everything is nice and soft here

alright!!!!!! finally!!! here is that pokémon au, a bastardization of this prompt and @sinhalbutnoangst 's prompt "24: Right before a passionate/first kiss & 16: “There’s nothing to be scared of, okay? I’m right here.” For a Pokémon AU !!!"

I hope y'all both enjoy or at least find parts to be happy about!!!

(fair warning i don't know a lot about pokémon so who knows how accurate this is at ALL)

(3.3k)

(i've linked each pokémon name with their pokedex picture just so everyone knows what they look like. no need to read the descriptions or anything)(god knows i didn't half the time)

Obi-Wan is in the water, tending to a shy gyarados a trainer had left behind as a Magikarp a few months ago, when on the shore his flareon raises its muzzle and barks loudly. That’s her signal that someone’s arrived at the Daycare center proper. Obi-Wan furrows his eyebrows, as he strokes his hand down the gyarados' side.

“I always tell them to call ahead,” he mutters as the pokemon nudges closer for more attention. “Why do they never call ahead?”

Gyarados knocks him hard in the arm. It’s clear she wants more pats, but business calls.

“Would you mind terribly taking me back to shore, dear?” Obi-Wan asks politely. It’d be faster than swimming all the way there, and it would strengthen the Pokémon's connection with humans.

On the shore, Flareon bounds around in a circle, tail flickering back and forth. It must be someone she recognizes the scent of. A regular then. That means Obi-Wan can take his time getting back to the counter to greet them, but he probably shouldn’t show up dripping wet in only a pair of swim trunks.

Luckily, Gyarados gives him a lift, bellowing mournfully to be left alone again when Obi-Wan alights onto the sand. When her trainer comes back to pick it up, Obi-Wan has half a mind to offer to buy her from them. No one who actually cares about their pokemon would leave a magikarp to become a gyarados under the care and instruction of someone else.

But becoming known as the Daycare Runner who gets attached to Pokémon and tries to keep them is perhaps a serious threat to his business as a whole. And he’s already done that too many times.

No, the best thing to do is to wait for the trainer to come back and sit them down to give them a serious talk about their Pokémon’s emotional needs. They’re probably young. Most trainers are these days. On some level you have to be in order to have the energy to travel as much as you do, to sleep on the ground more nights than not.

Yes, they’re probably young, and more focused on gym battles than their Pokémons’ growth and happiness. It happens sometimes with tunnel vision like that. Too many advertisements for the Pokémon League, the Elite Four, the Gym badges. Obi-Wan had been the same way when he was a kid.

He gathers his clothes from the shoreline and slips on his shoes. Flareon tries to help dry him out by wrapping herself repeatedly around his ankles and cooing out gusts of warm air, but all it does is create a new and unusual tripping hazard.

Especially when she suddenly perks up, about halfway to the building and jumps forward into a run. Obi-Wan stares after her, confused, clothes held in a slackened grip until he sees a very familiar growlithe running fult tilt from around the building. It hops the fence with practiced ease that makes Obi-Wan inwardly despair at the lesson it’s unwittingly teaching all of the other Pokémon.

But he can’t deny the way his heart thuds when he realizes what its presence means. His flareon, embarrassingly enough, seems to be thinking along the same lines, as she bounds up to the growlithe and starts winding between his legs instead, rubbing her head over every part of black and orange fur she can reach.

Obi-Wan sighs and shucks on his buttoned shirt, shaking out the water from his hair. He doesn’t even really bother with pants, seeing as his wet swim trunks go almost to his knees.

It’s Anakin. Anakin’s here. Anakin hasn’t been here for four months when he left in the midst of a shouting match. Obi-Wan has been trying--unsuccessfully--to put Anakin out of his mind. And now Anakin’s growlithe is prancing towards him like it’s a special present to see him at all.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan murmurs, pausing in buttoning up his shirt so he can pet at the growlithe’s--what does Anakin call him again?--muzzle. For a second, the Pokémon nuzzles back, scenting his face and neck as territorial Pokémon are wont to do, before it moves quickly forward and grabs Obi-Wan by the shirt, swinging him up onto its back.

Out of shock and a latent survival instinct, Obi-Wan drops the rest of his clothes and clings to the Pokémon’s back. “Shit!” is on the tip of his tongue the entire two minutes it takes to bound back to the fence, over it and through the welcome doors of his own Daycare.

Anakin is standing, back to the entrance, furiously tapping the bell on the desk, looking somehow both desperate and bored.

Growlithe barks once, twice, and shakes himself hard enough that Obi-Wan knows to let go before he gets rolled over upon.

It’s not the most graceful entrance he would have chosen after going months without seeing Anakin, to land on his back, partially dressed and smelling like the sea at the Pokémon trainer’s feet.

Anakin at least has the wherewithal to be both surprised and immediately worried. “Obi-Wan!” he yelps, turning around immediately upon his growlithe’s bark of victory.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan says dryly sitting up from his sprawl and combing a nervous hand through his hair.

“Where are your clothes?” Anakin asks shrilly, turning a very interesting shade of magenta and looking quickly away from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan couldn’t be more different, what with the way he looks at Anakin as if he’s starved for the sight of him. It’s been several long months since they last saw each other. The fight had been...awful, to say the least. Anakin had accused him of not really wanting him to succeed. Obi-Wan had accused him of the same tunnel vision he diagnoses most young adults to have.

Neither had been true. Obi-Wan hadn’t even meant it, but he’d been mad. He’d been mad that Anakin hadn’t even thought to listen to him more than a Gym Leader he’d just defeated.

Palpatine had urged him to go straight to the League. Obi-Wan had thought it prudent to return home to his mother, give his Pokémon a break, work his way to the island of the Pokémon League naturally as a means of bonding with and further testing his Pokémon. He has no idea who Anakin ended up listening to. It’s been something that has haunted him for weeks.

“Out in the back,” Obi-Wan grunts, standing and trying to pick up the shattered pieces of his dignity under the Pokémon trainer’s wide-eyed stare. Anakin’s grown older in the past few months, his face sharper. What is he now, newly twenty-three? Halfway to twenty-four? “Your Growlithe was quite enthusiastic to bring me here as soon as possible.”

Anakin flushes and looks down at his feet. He looks tired, Obi-Wan decides. Like he’s walked the entire continent just to show up at his door.

“Sorry,” Anakin says sheepishly. “I had--”

“Him out and walking with you, I know,” Obi-Wan finishes with a fond shake of his head. He buttons the last necessary button on his shirt and sweeps past Anakin to stand behind his desk. “You always liked having one of them out with you. How’s your Jolteon?”

“Twilight?” Anakin asks, sounding surprised Obi-Wan even remembered he had a jolteon. He tries not to feel offended. It’s an unfortunate truth that Obi-Wan remembers almost everything about Anakin, the trainer that used to hang around his daycare as though he couldn’t bear to step more than fifty paces from his front door. “He’s fine. A bit angry with me, I think.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asks, furrowing his brow as he looks up at his guest. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Anakin is quiet for a few seconds, and his hands clench down on the edge of the counter-top. When he speaks, his voice wavers. “Obi-Wan...do you think my Pokémon love me? Like, do you think I am a good trainer?”

Obi-Wan stares at him. This isn’t a conversation he should have without pants on, he decides. He slowly puts his pen down. “What happened, Anakin?” he asks gently, reaching out and laying a hand on the arm Anakin still has resting against the counter.

“I lost,” his favorite trainer whispers, looking down. Growlithe--Resolute, that’s what Anakin had named him--noses into the nape of his neck. Obi-Wan is not jealous. “I challenged the Elite Four, and I lost in the second round.”

Obi-Wan’s hand tightens completely involuntarily. He hates hearing that after their years-long friendship, the last few years where he’d thought perhaps they were on the verge of being something more, despite his reservations, Anakin had listened to Palpatine over him. Palpatine.

“Come around back here,” he instructs after a second’s thought. Somehow, still, after all these months, he thinks he knows what Anakin needs. “And release all of your Pokémon from their Pokéballs.”

“All of them?” Anakin asks, sounding so unsure Obi-Wan’s heart aches with the doubt of it all before he reigns that in. This isn’t about him.

This isn’t about him, but he can’t stop himself from asking, just once, “Yes. Do you trust me?”

Anakin’s fingers hesitate on the seal of his first Pokéball, and Obi-Wan’s heart jumps into his throat. “Yeah,” Anakin finally says gruffly, pressing the release. “Yeah, I do.”

His altaria pops out of her Pokéball with a trill and a flap of her cloud-shaped wings. He just catches a hint of the jolteon materialize into existence before he turns his back. “I’m going to put on proper clothes,” he tells Anakin over his shoulder. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m sure your Pokémon will remember half the ones here.”

And all of the ones Obi-Wan calls his own, he doesn’t add. Anakin should know. Anakin’s known them since he was fifteen years old and surly over the fact that his mother wouldn’t let him go out and hunt legendary Pokémon until he finished schooling.

He finds his abandoned clothes quickly, and shuffles into them. Flareon noses around him curiously, with more than a bit of excitement. She probably smells Anakin on him. The thought doesn’t warm his cheeks, but if it does, he’ll blame it on the sudden amount of heat she’s giving off.

He leaves his shirt as is and doesn’t even bother with the vest or tie. He’s not here to be Professor Kenobi. He’s here to be Obi-Wan, Anakin’s friend. That’s what Anakin needs from him right now. A friend.

He fixes his hair anyway in a mad bout of nerves, but no one, not even his mienshao or flareon, obsessed with appearances as they are, are paying enough attention to him in order to soothe his sudden insecurities.

More than anything, he wants to be back in the sea, surrounded by the gyarados’ coils. He doesn’t understand humans as much as he would like to, and he certainly doesn’t understand Anakin. Not anymore. Perhaps he never did.

His flareon bumps at his wrist with the crown of her head and he looks down with a sigh. “Someone’s excited, I see,” he murmurs wryly, smoothing down the stuck-up fur of her hair and chest mane. She purrs. “Not the most excited though,” he adds with a huff as he sees a blur of white and blue from the corner of his eyes as the female Meowstic who spends most of her time strolling the parameter of the Daycare abandons her position to dart towards the backdoors where a newly emerged navy male Meowstic stands waiting.

They collide and curl into each other, two halves of one whole brought back together.

Well, that’s as good as any sign to approach Anakin, who has decided to collapse on the soft grass of the enclosure. Other than the Meowstic, his freed Pokémon have curled around him. The jolteon, Artoo, rests by his head, while his charizard, Mustafar, brackets the length of his body with his own. The growlithe sits watchful at his feet, while a new, unfamiliar pancham curls up on his chest. Finally, his gallade sits cross-legged to his side.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan drawls before he can help himself, “It’s very obvious that your Pokémon don’t love you.”

Anakin bolts upright at the sound of his voice. The pancham growls at him, a baby noise that Obi-Wan didn’t necessarily think the species capable of.

The Pokémon trainer hushes it quickly with a stern, “Vader, no.”

Obi-Wan comes to sit cross-legged in front of the man. “You didn’t have a pancham last time,” he says easily. What he really wants to ask is much more complicated. He wants to know everything. He wants to know how Anakin changed. When. Why. He wants to know what’s still the same.

It’s always complicated when it comes to Anakin. It’s never been easy.

“He was injured when I found him,” Anakin admits, stroking the top of Vader’s head. “But a fighter. I think I was injured when I found him too.”

The man seems so lost in his own recollections that Obi-Wan hates to interrupt. Carefully, Anakin’s jolteon, Twilight, noses his hand. When he’s not pushed away, he jumps into Obi-Wan’s lap with a trill. Flareon lets out a hiss, but acquiesces when the jolteon licks at her snout, accepting her ownership of Obi-Wan.

“I had just lost,” Anakin says slowly. “I wanted to come back here, rent a Lapras and just ride until I saw the shoreline I knew was yours. But I didn’t know what you’d say to me. How mad you’d still be.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip. He wouldn’t have been mad. He’d been worried, from the second Anakin left his property. But how to tell the man that? Would the other even want to hear it? Would he think Obi-Wan was trying to infantilize him, to protect him?

“I didn’t want you to be right.” Anakin whispers, arms tightening around the Pokémon. “I didn’t want you to be right and say that I wasn’t ready. And then I was in the forest, walking home, and I found this guy. He’d been attacked by a bug pokémon who was probably a higher level. But he was so angry still. I...I wanted him on my team. I needed that fire back.”

Obi-Wan suddenly thinks that there’s much more distance between them than there should be. He wants to be hugging Anakin, to be kissing his temple. These were allowances they had given each other before the fight, things that Obi-Wan had squirreled away, close to his heart.

He wants them back.

“But I keep thinking about how the professor who gave me my first Pokémon told this guy I beat in my first battle that he lost because he didn’t love his Pokémon right, and I...I’m just worried that’s why I lost.” Anakin stares down at his pancham, who puts his paws on his cheeks and pats a few times.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs. He thinks it sounds too fond, too revealing, but Anakin looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “I’ve never known a trainer to love his Pokémon more, dear one.”

“Then why?” Anakin asks plaintively, scooting forward until their knees brush. “Why did I lose? The gym leader of Cinnabar Island told me I would win!”

Obi-Wan, quite maturely in his opinion, doesn’t mention the fact that the recently defeated Palpatine probably had ulterior motives for Anakin to challenge the league too quickly and then fail. “You weren’t ready, Anakin,” he says instead, placing his hand on the other’s knee and holding it even when the trainer jerks out of his grp. “Please, listen. It's about sheer time, training experience. It’s not about you or your relationship to your Pokémon. You have such an amazing, strong relationship with them! They love you. Anyone could tell. And you’re not lacking in skill either. I know your mind is sharp and ready for battle.”

Anakin looks at him teary-eyed. “I’ve been so worried that maybe they didn’t know I loved them,” he admits in a wavering voice.

Obi-Wan can’t resist moving impossibly closer to his trainer. “Oh, Anakin, of course they do. Pokémon don’t always express or interpret love the same way humans do, but they do have their own ways of showing it.”

“Like what?” Anakin sniffles, wiping at his wet eyes. If Obi-Wan had really been listening, he would have noticed the change in his tone. As it is, he continues immediately, too focused on trying to stop his trainer from crying to think of anything else.

“A fire-type Pokémon wil try to warm you if they think you’re cold, even if it means staying up all night to keep you in in its flame. And fighting-type Pokémon are capable of throwing a blanket over you if they think you need to rest. Psychic-types have been known to read their trainer’s emotions and either hug them or give them distance whenever they want. Ground- and bug-type have been known to bring berries to their trainers to get them something to eat, and electric--why are you looking at me like that?” Anakin’s nascent smirk grows bigger at this interruption and he cocks his head to the side as he studies Obi-Wan’s face. “And what does it say about a man who spends all of his time around Pokémon, that he would do those exact same things for me?”

Obi-Wan at least understands enough to scurry backwards a few paces, much to the jolteon in his lap’s distress, who jumps away with a huff.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he says quickly.

Anakin inches forward, setting the pancham, Vader, aside. He really has grown in the past few months. The loss of the League, the months apparently spent on the road, have aged him so that he’s both recognizable and something new and wild. “What if I knew of a man,” Anakin murmurs, falling to his palms as he closes the gap between them. “One who warmed me when I was cold, covered me when I was tired, hugged me when I was needy, and fed me when I was hungry? What would that mean, in terms of Pokémon?”

Obi-Wan swallows nervously. His entire body is bracketed by Anakin. Anakin, who seems to have discovered his most-guarded secret in their months apart. Anakin, who is hovering over him now with a dark look in his eyes. Finally something in Obi-Wan gives way. This is it. He will give Anakin everything he asks for. Everything he needs. He’s always tried to do this exact thing.

“I suppose that would mean he loved you,” he whispers, closing his eyes so he does not have to see Anakin’s recoil, Anakin’s disgust.

Anakin hums instead. “Obi-Wan,” he whispers, exhale hitting his lips. “Obi-Wan, open your eyes. There’s nothing to be scared of, beloved. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

At these words, Obi-Wan’s eyes jump open of their own accord. Anakin’s lips press down onto his in a movement just as sudden. He whimpers involuntarily and reaches up to clutch at the trainer’s hair, hold him to his mouth. Just as involuntarily, his lips part and Anakin’s tongue licks around the gap before darting inside. He moans. It’s shameful, the way he goes from scared to sucking on Anakin’s tongue as if he’ll die without the warm intrusion of it.

It hardly feels like the first time they’ve kissed. It feels like they’ve been kissing for years, like Anakin knows his mouth completely and utterly.

There are so many secrets left between them. Obi-Wan’s one unopened Pokéball, sitting on his belt. Anakin’s relationship with that last Gym leader. What he’s been doing these past few months. What Obi-Wan Kenobi made his fortune off of.

But none of it matters now. Not here at this moment. All that matters is showing Anakin that he’s been just as missed, just as wanted.

With that in mind, Obi-Wan rolls on top of his trainer and shoves his hands up inside Anakin’s shirt to trace along the muscles of his chest and back. This was his. His, his, his. He had come back to him. Everything else could wait.

#asks #pokemon au #the long awaited snippet!!!!#so i didn't get to all of obi-wan's pokémon teap #team**#and yes the 'unopened pokéball on his belt' refers to his being the trainer of a legendary pokémon #(zamazenta because i like that)#i really hope this is both a) readable to people who don't know shit about pokemon and #b) readable to people who do know shit about pokemon #because i am right in the middle #somehow i made this about love languages again but that's just me and my relationship with #obikin

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voidix · 3 years ago

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So my dear friend @kittytudor and I were discussing some takes the fandom has on Dazai and especially his interactions with Mori and I thought I’d share

I really hate the train of thought that goes like “they’re super smart so they know life has no meaning and nothing matters” like that’s cynical for no reason whatsoever and just nihilistic

Yea when you are intelligent you see all the bad in the world and feel like you’re powerless to stop it a lot of times but the things is

You know scientists see beauty in everything geologist will get excited about literal dirt a marine biologist about a gold fish. When you’re intelligent you see all the bad but also all the good

However it’s easier to see the bad and often times it clouds your view but part of the healing process is starting to see beauty and happiness in the smallest things and I think that’s a journey Dazai is slowly going on.

So I really don’t think intelligence is the issue here and I’m gonna assume you’re an edgy bastard if you say so

I feel like Dazai’s issue is more the environment than anything and the lack of meaningful relationships. I know we clown the scene where he says actually living is okay now 1 day after meeting Chuuya but here is the thing. This might have been the first time he had someone his age who wanted to hang out with him or even less just someone his age who tolerated him. I personally know nothing about his life pre mafia but you can assume it wasn’t a good life if at age 14 you decide the bloody mafia is preferable to wherever you’re at at the moment

In my opinion Mori didn’t encourage it per se but he didn’t try to stop it either I really think that for him he did not expect Dazai would go through with it (again) and /or as cruel as it sounds if he actually did it which Mori didn’t think was likely he had one less rival to worry about but I really think that’s Mori’s reasoning for staying “neutral” for lack of a better word on this issue

That being said I’m sure being surrounded by death and suffering did not do any good for an already depressed 14/15yo

Which leads me to the second point. I really don’t think Mori expected Dazai to leave or tried to make him leave. For Mori Dazai was a powerful asset because of his ability and because of his intelligence that y’all are obsessed with. So why would you want to push that person away and it’s not like he was encouraging him to suicide here which would make much more sense than wanting him to leave.

And I have evidence

I’m gonna start it with: Oda did not die to set an example I don’t think so no. In his conversation with Chuuya he said something like “being a leader means making sacrifices for the well being of the group” or something like that and that’s what he did here.

He sacrifices Oda to get the permit.

The strange thing is I do think Mori meant what he said to Chuuya that he is a leader but also a servant to the mafia he wants the mafia to gain more power and that’s why he did what he did to get the permit.

I do think it could be a lesson to Dazai but not in the “if you cross me this is gonna happen to you” because Oda didn’t cross him Oda didn’t want power he is the last person who was interested in that. I think if anything it was more a lesson as in “when you take over this is something you’ll have to do and I’m showing you how it’s done”

Evidence for that is he was chuckling when he mentioned that possibility that Dazai would kill him and take one someday. And I agree that Mori

Wouldn’t mind if that was better for the Mafia. Like he wouldn’t make it easy for him and he wouldn’t give up but if he is defeated he wouldn’t be angry or annoyed because like I mentioned above I do think he was genuine when he said he is also a servant to the Mafia

My other piece of evidence is that when he showed Dazai the permit he seemed proud of what he’s done. The way he presented it and the entire scenario he seemed proud more than smug. If he really wanted Dazai out I feel like he would’ve been more smug about the whole thing and we know he can do that well.

And obviously there is also the fact he offered him not once but twice to come back. And what’s interesting is that the first time the offer was secret like he sent Gin and Higuchi and it was in a shady ass tunnel

Now the other time is where it gets interesting because it was very public in front of Dazai’s colleagues the black lizard and Fukuzawa.

Now Mori is a smart guy but also he has a sense of pride as we learned so I really don’t think he would risk being humiliated in front of Fukuzawa of all people just to mess with Dazai and he seemed genuinely surprised when Dazai said “you kicked me” and he didn’t offer him to just come back no he offered to be back as an executive and having Dazai decline and clown him in front of Fukuzawa like that I don’t think he would risk that if he was just playing

The thing is Mori is smart but he has tunnel vision in my opinion. He was so focused on getting the permit he forgot that this plan has consequences that aren’t just “we get the permit”

And also one of Mori’s issues is that he never takes into consideration people’s emotions. You can predict human Behavior to a certain degree a lot of times you can know what to

Say or what to do to get a certain result but the thing is humans aren’t algorithms they don’t always operate on logic they have emotions. And these emotions can be so strong that they override any crumb of logic left which is something I think Mori fails to understand. That’s why he didn’t expect Dazai to leave he forgot about the emotional factor.

That’s what Mori lacks but Dazai has and my evidence for this is a scenario we laughed at because it was presented in a funny way but I think that’s something that shows that Dazai is better at this 4D chess game than Mori.

On the Moby Dick he knew that Akutagawa would abandon everything to talk to him. If Dazai only operates by thinking about logical Behavior he wouldn’t have told Atsushi to do this but he realises that the emotional factor is one of the strongest drives humans have.

And you know I think Mori knows that when it comes to 4D chess Dazai would defeat him but he doesn’t mind that he isn’t scared of that. In dead Apple he couldn’t have possibly known the whole business with the pill but he told Chuuya to interfere. Mori has a strange sense of trust towards Dazai even now that they’re part of different sides.

I think Mori is has always been aware that although he says he does Dazai doesn’t actually want to die and I think the scene with the hyper and hypo tension medication in 15 shows this. If you actually want to die why would you Mix medicine with effects that cancel out each other and Mori is a doctor he knows this. That’s why I think he didn’t expect Dazai to commit and that he believes Dazai actually wants to live and because of that he will try and preserve himself and by extension Yokohama which is why he told Chuuya to go in dead apple, which is why he let Akutagawa go on the Moby Dick in season 2 because he realized Dazai wanted him to go there and he trusts Dazai to a certain degree .

I really feel like his underestimated the emotional factor and this will ultimately lead to his downfall. Like he didn’t expect Dazai to leave he wouldn’t expect anyone to react super emotional to god knows what he’ll do and thereby underestimate their response to that which will make him meet his end.

I don’t think the “you kicked me” is Dazai in denial he acted ok emotions or at least that’s not the whole thing. I think that Dazai’s reasoning for saying that is this:

Oda died so Mori can get more power which was part of Mori’s plan all along so looking at the bigger picture it was Mori’s plan and actions who drove me out of the Mafia so he basically “kicked me out”

Also I wanna add that I feel like Mori because he underestimates the emotional factor he doesn’t understand to this day why Dazai left like he knows it’s related to oda he can follow that train of events but in his mind it doesn’t make logical sense why Dazai would do that which is why he didn’t manage to win Dazai over back to The Mafia because in his mind be doesn’t know the logical reason why Dazai left which is also another reason why he was so surprised when Dazai said he kicked him

Also I’d like to add that I really don’t think he felt threatened or wanted to just get rid of him

Dazai was already suicidal so if it would very easy to make it look like that. And like I mentioned before if it was the best choice for the Mafia I really don’t think Mori would be that bothered about being replaced by Dazai.

I also don’t think he thought Dazai would be more useful on the outside because once again why lose a valuable addition like that

And it’s not like

He wanted to use him

As a spy or anything we know that would’ve been arranged differently see Ango

So Mori the logical guy he is wouldn’t want his enemies to have someone with Dazai’s ability because that’s a pain in the ass and also

He wouldn’t want an insider like Dazai to join his enemies and spill all his secrets. Dazai had a very high rank and like I said I don’t think Mori expected him to leave so he had no reason to hide things from

him so even without his ability he would be a very strong asset to the Mafias enemies so there is no way Mori would think he is more useful on the outside since

1. we already said mori has tunnel vision he couldn’t possibly predict that much that he thinks Dazai is better out

2. We established that he isn’t afraid of him

3. He wouldn’t want the ability and the information to fall into his enemies’ hands

4. If he was actually scared and wanted to get rid of him making it seem like suicide or actually driving him to suicide would be much easier especially since mori is a doctor

So yeah this is long thanks if you read until the end it was super fun to write this id love to know what others think I’m sorry if it’s a bit unorganised it’s copied from my notes app

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd Meta #Dazai osamu #osamu dazai #mori ogai #ogai mori #bsd Mafia

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heyitsyn · 4 years ago

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Keeping Up With Seijoh Ep. 1

a/n: this is a mini-series that are based off of your asks and once i,,,,, finish,,,, my seijoh phase, i will also do this for the other schools but pls take these offerings in the meantime as i work on the next part of my manager!seijoh and the time traveler au

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

anon request:

Wow, your series of Seijoh managers is so cute.🥺👉👈 After starting to read, I can only think about Oikawa and y / n on a Saturday night seeing mean girls, painting nails, taking care of the skin and the another day Oiks rubbing the face of everyone who spends much more time with his dear businessman LMAOO Anyway, congratulations on your work 💕💕 seriously, I LOVE this series omg-

I MIGHT BE AN IWA AND KYO STAN BUT OIKS IS DEFINITELY THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AND PRETTIEST DUMPSTER IVE EVER SEEN

yep lets start the pilot

so basically, oikawa was being oikawa again

what might i mean, you ask

well, he was starting to work much harder than before since this was his last ever inter-high and his last ever chance on beating ushiwaka

even though they finally have the team assembled avengers assemble! with kyo back on the team, he still felt lacking and wanted to use every single free time to work on becoming better

yall fun fact about me, oikawa is actually my favorite character bc of how hard he works and the pain i have in that once scene during the karasuno match when he slammed into the tables and was struggling to get up bc of his knee----NO IM SOBBING AGAIN

iwa noticed him doing this again so he sent you out to drag him out and distract him from this

‘cmon oikawa-san-’

‘NO, Y/N-CHAN! I HAVE TO-’

‘no, the only thing you have to do is spend time with me bc i miss you and i want to have that movie you kept talking about’

bahahaha he is so whipped that a single ‘i miss you’ from you will literally make him break his back and bend for you

it was successful and you were in your room, your parents understanding oikawa and his antics since youve complained about it before, and he was sitting on your floor while looking through movies

‘y/n-chan, do you have no alien movies in here? or barbie?’

IN MY CONTENT, IT IS CANON THAT OIKAWA LOVES THE BARBIE MOVIES FITE ME

you laughed from your spot on your bed and shook your head

‘no, oikawa-san. natsu took all my barbie movies and i get scared of alien movies’

he pouted but continued to look until his eyes literally lit up

it was like god took a picture of him and you saw the flash

‘MEAN GIRLS! Y/N-CHAN I DIDNT KNOW YOU LIKED THIS TYPE OF MOVIE!’

he shrieked but you shrugged

‘meh. katsuki, natsu’s boyfriend, gave it to natsu as a joke but he gave it to me instead bc he cannot stand regina george’

you reasoned while picking out nail polish colors and looking through the ingredients of your face masks

‘WE’RE WATCHING THIS! PERIODT!’

omg hes so loud but i am too so we compatible

ugh i hate my logic

then later,

as the movie played, you were arguing with oikawa as he refused to wear the unicorn and wanted the panda one, which was your favorite

‘OIKAWA-SAN, I LIKE THIS ONE!’

‘Y/N-CHAN I LIKE IT MORE!’

you sucked in a sharp breath before relenting bc you wanted oikawa to be relaxed per request of your beloved senpai

‘fine. but i get to paint your nails’

he nodded eagerly and you handed him the packet, to which he simply stared at it

‘y/n-chan, can you,,,, put it on me?’

he sheepishly asked and you gave him a confused and bewildered look

‘oikawa-san, have you never put these on yourself?’

he shook his head, cheeks flushing and eyes focusing on the blue blanket

‘my sister always put it on for me. or iwa-chan’

‘IWA-?! wHAT-?!’

but you nodded anyways and he made you sit on his lap to put it on

‘um, oikawa-san, this position-’

he smiled at you, a gentle and real smile, not the ones for his fangirls

‘nuh uh, its fine, y/n-chan. oikawa-san loves you so he likes you right here’

he mumbled, blushing and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer making you giggle and nod

‘okay. close your eyes then, oikawa-san’

he excitedly nodded, expecting a kiss from you but you flicked his forehead making his eyes fly open and wince at the pain

‘so perverted, oikawa-san. pervert-oikawa-san’

you scolded and he pouted

he said something but you didnt listen, instead placing the mask on his face and smoothing it out

his fringe was about to touch the wet material so you hastily grabbed a clip and held his hair up

he looked so cute that you couldnt help but reach over and snap a picture of him

‘ara ara gomen did y/n-chan just take a picture of oikawa-san?’

he teased but you shook your head

‘no. what are you talking about?’

he did the same thing to you and now you were both painting each other’s nails, ofc staying loyal to your school mint green and baby blue on the ring fingernail

lmao dont blast me for not being exact w the school colors but it looks mint green to me

he finished yours first and omg?? hes so??? good?? like what???

you were holding his large hands with your small fingers and his heart started thumping really fast at the simple touch

‘thank you,,,,, y/n-chan’

you looked up to him with large eyes, still unfamiliar with the softness of his voice

it was such a contrast compared to his usually loud and obnoxious, mocking tone

‘oikawa-san is not a really good captain since he burdens and bothers everyone but you always fix it all and keep everyone together. so, sorry for everything’

he mumbled and the eye holes from the mask let you see his sad eyes, genuinely sad about himself

you made the last paint stroke and capped the nail polish before leaning forwards, hands on his thigh so you could be closer

oikawa ofc freaked out because wow youre so much prettier up close and he doesnt?? deserve you??

your eyes blazed with anger and he stuttered your name but you cut him off

‘OIKAWA-SAN IS NOT USELESS. HE IS A REALLY GOOD CAPTAIN WHO LED HIS TEAM TO BATTLE THE ULTIMATE RIVAL AND EVEN THOUGH THEY LOST, THEY STILL WON IN MY EYES. YOU GOT KENTA-KUN TO COME BACK EVEN THOUGH HE DIDNT WANT TO BUT HE DID BC HE KNOWS HOW GOOD YOU ARE. HE WANTS TO PLAY ALONGSIDE A PLAYER WHO DESERVES TO BE ON THE COURT AND EVERYONE ELSE THINKS THE SAME THING. ME, Y/N, IS JUST A MANAGER WHO MIGHT NOT KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT VOLLEYBALL OR THE TECHNIQUES AND ALL THAT BUT I RECOGNIZE YOUR TALENT AND YOU WILL MAKE IT BIG SOMEDAY, OIKAWA-SAN! I PROMISE! AND WHEN YOU DO, I WILL SUPPORT YOU AND COME TO YOUR GAMES BC YOU ARE MY CAPTAIN AND I DONT REGRET EVER MEETING YOU. SO DONT APOLOGIZE AND SAY SORRY TO ME, INSTEAD TELL ME YOU ARE HAPPY TO BE IN THIS TEAM AND SAY YOU LOVE THE TEAM AND YOU LOVE VOLLEYBALL AND YOU LOVE-’

but he cut you off, placing a chaste kiss on your exposed nose

yall really thought it was the,,,, speaking function part of your face

nahnahnah that is only for the doggie

oop what

you stopped, flustered at the sudden action but oikawa smiled

‘i love you, y/n. i really love you so give me a chance, okay? i will wait, no matter how long it takes but,,,, let me catch up and for now, think about me, okay?’

BRUH HOW IS THAT RELEVANT TO HER LONG RANT LIKE WHAT---

you tilted your head to the side, confused

she is deadass naive like bls protect her

‘a chance for what? you want to catch up for what? youre already good, oikawa-san’

then he laughed

so much more different than the ones he let out in public

it was so,,,, beautiful

you found yourself grinning with him and he calmed down, brushing away the stray hairs that is in danger of getting stuck on your mask

‘come on, y/n-chan. lets go take this off’

he stood up and offered his hand which you took

after the moisturizing and final touch-ups for your skin, you finally settled on the blanket fort and dozed off, the movie still playing but you were too comfortable in oikawa’s arms that you didnt even notice the credits rolling

the next day, you didnt feel the need to mention it at all

but oikawa did and it was still truly an accident

iwa heard about him staying late again and you having to drag him out of there and he was hitting him and kicking him again

you were so used to this that you were just writing down your notes at the corner, oblivious to oikawa’s crying

finally, he had enough of it

‘SEE THIS IS WHY Y/N-CHAN DOESNT LET YOU SPEND THE NIGHT WITH HER! BECAUSE YOU ARE SO MEAN!’

um, sire what did you just say

that was completely taken out of context and everyone, omg, especially iwa and kyo just froze

‘what,,, did you just say?’

iwa asked in a dangerously low voice and you shrugged

‘you told me to distract him, iwa-san, so i did. he was happy and satisfied and thats all that matters, right?’

you shot them a smile and oiks had such a smug smile when iwa looked at him and he was about to hit him when kyo just came out of nowhere and YEETED the smile off of his face

oikawa screamed

just a wittle blurb about this bc i totally love this :( and he totally needs more love and some of my readers love oikawa and want oikawa manager content so here it is!!! feast on these crumbs!!!!

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cimerran-714 · 3 years ago

Text

An imaginary conversation between the members of the Golden Trio and JKR ;)

Note: Given the apparent ire that this post has triggered among some (toxic) Canon Shippers, I'd like to clarify something: It's not meant to be disrespectful towards any other pairings (especially R/Hr). I'd included the 'Ron Weasley' tag by mistake, and it'd remain there until I figure out how to do away with it. I won't be removing this disclaimer, though.

In the meantime, keep a civil head in your tongue if you'd like to comment. If 'Harmony' isn't your thing, then simply don't read it.

*After the events that unfolded in the fifth book (Order of the Phoenix), Harry decides to give J.K Rowling a piece of his mind*

Harry: Hey, I think of Ginny as a sister

JKR: Wait, no! That will never do. I was planning on making you love her.

Harry: I'd have thought me and Hermione have got a better chemistry together, actually...

JKR: Yes, but Ginny's an athlete, Harry. And as all the Romione shippers have claimed, you obviously can't find a girl like Hermione attractive.

Harry: That's not true. I like her very much. I mean, it was Hermione who hugged me for the first time when we tried to save the Philosopher's stone.

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: Why didn't Ron accompany us to rescue Sirius from the North Tower?

JKR: Well, that was just-

Harry: Ron thought I was lying, that I was trying to earn myself a bit more fame by entering myself for the Triwizard tournament. She believed me, though.

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: And I was a bit "thrilled" when Krum considered me a true rival.

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: You made sure that she had "snow in her face", and that her cheeks were "pink with cold", didn't you?

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: Why was she so interested in knowing where I sleep, anyway?

JKR: Well-

Harry: I remember being careful enough to make sure that I'd pinched my own leg while we were closeted in that cupboard. I mean, it ruled out the possibility that I was dreaming about... well, being in close quarters with her.

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: She dragged me away from a date with Cho Chang. Hmm...

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: I didn't really care what she said about Cho, anyway. My first reaction was to claim that she is not ugly. And she isn't. Like, didn't you see Hermione's... er, figure in that blue dress?

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: I only wish we'd cuddled after rescuing Sirius-

Hermione: Oh, Harry-

JKR: But-

Harry: Ever bothered to count the times when you made her "whisper" and "breath" in my ear?

JKR: Yes, but... you consider her a sibling, don't you?

Harry: Do I?

JKR: ...

Harry: ...

Hermione: ...

*Much later, a disgruntled Ron joins their midst*

Harry: So... you're pairing me with Ginny in the sixth book, after all. What a bummer.

Ron: Tough luck, mate.

JKR: I am. Sorry for the disappointment, but I do think you'd fit better in some ways-

Ron: Well... I'd end up with Hermione, I reckon. Won't I, Rowling?

JKR: Mrs. Rowling, Ronald. And yes, you will.

Ron: That's a relief.

Harry: Yeah, so long as there are no cringey chest monsters or anything...

Ron: Of course not. That's so unrealistic, everyone knows that.

JKR: (sips some more tea)

Hermione: I wonder at what point we'd snog. After a Quidditch match, I suppose. I mean, it makes so much sense for me to be appreciative of Ron's talents, now that you've made him win the Cup last time-

JKR: You've jumped the gun. No one said you'd be snogging.

Harry: But you said they'd be togeth-

JKR: In a manner of speaking. You'd spend at least half the book arguing, though.

Ron: What!? You've got to make her say I'm fanciable or something, it's been five bloody years! At least let me tell a teacher that she's the best in our year! I'd defended Hermione against Snape, after all.

JKR: You aren't the only Gryffindor sixth-year, Ron. What do you think Harry's there for?

Harry: She... she'll tell me that I'm fanciable?

JKR: Yes.

Ron: 'Platonically', of course.

JKR: Correct. As we all know, young Harry thinks of her like a-

Harry: Don't you dare fuel that lie again.

Hermione: Then when are we kissing?

JKR: Near the end of the last book. You'd be in the middle of a... well, I'd rather not give away any spoilers. But it'd basically consist of you and Ron helping Harry out with something.

Hermione: Obviously.

Ron: Yeah, I wouldn't ever ditch my best friend.

JKR: Er.... you will, though. You'd have a row. Don't worry, I'm not planning to polish you off or anything.

Hermione: That makes sense. And I'd pine for Ron, won't I? I'm sure Harry and I would be totally dysfunctional together, that should give you an opening to-

JKR: In the beginning. Actually, both of you would adjust just fine after a while. Just make sure you don't trip on the kissing gate, dear.

Ron: ...

Harry: (stares incredulously at the woman who made him live in a cupboard for years)

Ron: You're so partial to Fred and George, though... they're raking in Galleons.

JKR: Ah, yes, I'm glad you mentioned the rest of your family. Hermione, I want you to twist around in your seat and smile at Harry, all right? While the three of you are at Bill and Fleur's wedding, I mean. A sparkle of tears in your eyes won't go amiss, either. Ron, you'd better be seated between them.

Hermione (squeals): T-twist around and beam at Harry? During a wedding!?

Ron: No way, my girlfriend would never do that! You can't make her!

Harry: You sure you aren't hitching us together?

Ron: Yeah, your writing's getting so predictable now.

Hermione: It'd be such a surprise if-

JKR: ... if the text doesn't give the impression that Harry's held your hand after exiting Dumbledore's office, yes

#harry potter #harry x hermione #harry and hermione #hermione granger #jk rowling

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faulty-writes · 4 years ago

Note

Monoma getting a crush on the reader who is in 1-A – he feels like he’s betrayed his own class and himself, but he can’t help it. y/n doesn’t treat him like an annoyance and even thinks all his obnoxiousness over the rivalry between their classes is genuinely funny. Y/n is just sort of like, ‘THIS guy, am I right?’ with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and treats him like a good pal

[ This is my first time writing this character. So let’s hope I did a good job. I think he’s cute but annoying, so. ]

“This is clearly impossible! They must have tricked me! How low will Class 1-A sink yet!?” he declared as he spun on his feet, one hand to his chest and the other raised in the air as if he were an actor on the stage. Most would probably agree, he’d make a better actor than a hero. But he never paid attention to those he considered lesser than him, so their words left him unaffected. So, it was safe to say that wasn't the issue he was going off about at the current moment, oh no.

This had been an ongoing issue with him for a long time and though he tried to deny it. Tried to continuously put the blame on you, thinking it was somehow your fault. The truth was, it was him and he hated it. He had betrayed his dear Class 1-B and for what? You. A hero, a rival in Class 1-A. Why was fate this cruel to him? Or was it that you were just so nice to him? He wasn’t truly sure when his feelings had begun, though he assumed it was because unlike most you didn’t find his rambles to be annoying.

You didn’t find him to be a bother when he went off insulting Class 1-A, in fact, you laughed. You giggled, you smiled. You...you set his heart ablaze in the worst way. “Oh, woe is me!” he cried out before collapsing to his knees in the center of his bedroom. His hands pressed close to his chest as he stared blankly at the wall. Why is it that you meant so much to him? He had feelings for you, yes. He couldn’t call it love yet, but what he did feel was strong. Unexplainable even and it was horrible.

He hated how his heart raced whenever he was in your presence and he loathed the way you’d make his face light up with your slightest touch, the slightest hint of your voice. He didn’t know how to shake himself of this feeling, he didn’t know how to make up for the betrayal, the sheer disregard to his own classmates. “How...how am I a victim of falling for that glassy-eyed beauty from the class I am at war against, that I am meant to despise?!” he took a breath before sighing and letting his head hang low.

His bangs brushing against his face, how would he go about solving this? “Hm…” he hummed, thinking of possible solutions and only one came to surface. “Ah yes! It’s so simple!” he declared as he sprung to his feet, seemingly in and out of emotions. “I shall confess my feelings and surely they shall be rejected! After all, Class 1-A is undeserving of my greatness and given the one who's stolen my heart is but a pebble in the mixture of my hatred. They are still a member of that horrid class, which means I cannot put up with this! Yes, I shall tell them of my feelings and get rejected! Then I shall be free of this dark spell!” he declared as he spun on his feet once more, yes.

Starting tomorrow, he will confess to you. Though he knew he would be rejected if heartbreak was the price he had to pay to end his feelings. So be it, he simply couldn’t allow this to continue. Oh no, he couldn’t let himself fall for a member of Class 1-A. He couldn’t allow his feelings to sway his actions, in fact, he had noticed during training. He often took it easy on you, well that would be no more after he lost his feelings for you. Oh, to be free would be wonderful.

To be himself once more. Though classes often trained at the same time, they were separated. But as of late, the teachers insisted on Class A and Class B train together. To further improve their own tactics, skills, and experience other quirks which both improved strengths and weaknesses. Monoma had a smile on his face as he walked along with his classmates, his teacher Sekijiro Kan was leading them and frankly though he hated to admit it. Monoma was looking forward to seeing Class 1-A, if only for the reason that he’d get to see you.

Before the training started, he’d pull you to the side and confess his feelings and surely you wouldn’t return them. The result of such a thing though it would make him have a battered and bleeding heart, would also allow him to beat you to a pulp when your teams went head to head. He chuckled to himself as the sound of chatter reached his ears and smiled as Class 1-A came into view, though at the same time it made his stomach twist with disgust.

He found himself desperately searching for you within the crowd and he eventually spotted you talking to Kirishima of all people, pff. He wanted to deny it made him feel jealous, seeing you give your attention to someone so undeserving. So naturally, he had to voice his opinion and walked over. “My, my. The sparkling jewel of Class 1-A, I imagine your standards are very low if you talk to those whose quirks are simply unreliable. Useless even, hah.” he chuckled before continuing.

“Meanwhile Class 1-B has various quirks with far greater use than hardening. Tell me why do you bother talking to someone so beneath you? Of course, I suppose I should be asking myself the same thing, for why am I wasting my breath speaking to members of Class 1-A?” he declared, once more he had one hand to his chest and the other waving around. “Do you ever give it a rest man!? Sheesh! My quirk is useful, I don’t give a damn what you say!” Kirishima declared as he grit his teeth and stomped his foot.

Clearly, he wasn’t happy, unlike you who actually started chuckling at Monoma’s display. For some odd reason, you always found him humorous, the sheer rivalry he created was something to be admired because the simple fact was, he got people pumped up. Monoma’s eyes shifted to you and it seemed he was frozen for a moment, damn. He hated how the sound of your voice, nay even your laugh, caused his heart to accelerate and his cheeks to flush.

“This guy is pretty hilarious,” you said as you approached Monoma and wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “Ah!” he cried out, his cheeks dusted a faint red color. Why did he feel so happy to be close to you, to have you touch him? It was unforgivable! A form of witchcraft! “Don’t be too upset Kirishima!” you tried to reason with the angry redhead, who looked at you with a confused expression.

“What do you mean don’t be upset?! This guy is really annoying, how can you laugh at his antics? He’s like the devil of U.A. or something.” you chuckled softly, “I don’t know about that, but he does bring the best out of all of us. Think about it, he isn’t afraid to challenge others. To make each and every one of us bring to the table our best, that’s not a bad thing.” you turned to face Monoma. “Right?” you questioned and he slowly looked at you, his lips parted and an unreadable expression on his face.

He needed to figure out a way out of this, to push himself away from you, the temptress. “Nay!” he declared as he pulled your arm off of him, “My threats are not to be taken lightly Class 1-A, surely you have learned that by now...however.” his eyes settled on you and he smiled. “I would like a word with you, Y/n.” Kirishima dropped his angry expression, your words had confused him but not as much as Monoma’s did. “What do you want to talk to Y/n about? I thought you hated our class and now you want to talk to Y/n alone, what gives man?” he questioned, and Monoma scoffed.

“Come now, I can be nice when I choose to. After all, Y/n did just try to reason with you. However, I understand most of your class is merely too thick-headed to grasp even the simplest of concepts! Oh, how very humiliating.” Kirishima let out a growl and grabbed your shoulder. “Better be careful with him, Y/n. I know the guy is off his rocker and maybe he doesn’t mean any harm. But keep your guard up.” you turned to Kirishima, shrugging.

“I don’t think he’s all that bad, but if you say so. I’ll try to keep my guard up, okay?” he nodded and released your shoulder before you walked up to Monoma, his eyes shifted from Kirishima to you. A pleased smile was on his face, “Well, shall we? Try to keep up, will you?” he said as he turned his back to you and began walking, you looked back to Kirishima before following Monoma. He led you away from the others and you let out a gasp as he suddenly turned and grabbed you.

For a moment, fear ran through your heart and you stumbled over your own two feet before your back hit a brick wall. Your hands immediately reached up, clasping over Monoma’s that were currently wrapping tightly around your shirt collar. “What are you doing!?” you snapped, your jaw clenching and a soft growl rumbling in your throat. Your eyes were narrowed on Monoma who merely chuckled, his head hanging low.

“Do you find it amusing to make a fool out of me? To make me feel such things and become the betrayer of Class 1-B?” your expression dropped. “What are you talking about-” he lifted his head and you gasped when his hand cupped your cheek. “You truly are beautiful, quite the jewel of Class 1-A as I stated before,” he chuckled though you still remained confused by his actions. “The same jewel…” he paused and pressed his body against yours, effectively preventing you from fighting back or attempting to escape.

Not that you were trying, this was certainly a strange situation you had found yourself in. But you highly doubted Monoma would try anything to harm you, especially with the teachers present. Though you wished you had taken Kirishima’s warning a little more seriously, as a hero you should never let your guard down. No matter who you were around, “That has stolen my heart. I like you, Y/n.” Monoma said, his voice a little shaky but somehow he managed to retain a cool attitude while confessing.

“It’s not love. No, but somehow you have stolen my heart all the same. You have made me betray my own class. A tragic Romeo and Juliet situation and it will end the same way, with heartbreak. I have prepared myself for your rejection! But I must do this first!” he declared as he grabbed your chin and tilted your head up. “What are you-mm!” your eyes went wide as Monoma stole your breath, sealing his lips over yours in a passionate kiss.

His remaining hand cupped your other cheek and he hummed contently into the kiss while you remained still, your eyes wide and your thoughts racing. Monoma had feelings for you that he expected you to reject? Was the kiss the final test to see how you truly felt or was he expecting to have his heart broken regardless? It was rather confusing, but you shouldn’t have expected anything less from him. After all, he was a strange but lovable character.

You had grown to like him during your time at U.A. unlike most of your classmates who found him rather annoying and well a pest. You felt a shiver run down your spine and you slid your hands along his back, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Sure, maybe some of the things he says could be depicted as rude, mean, and even plain unnecessary. But you still stood by your opinion, he was the only person who didn’t seem to be afraid to challenge others.

To say whatever he needed to in order to get them to bring their full power, to prove themselves the best. You admired that, along with his honesty. But did you have a crush on him like he had a crush on you? Honestly, you couldn’t say. But at this moment, all you knew was that your heart was racing and an odd feeling came over you. Your cheeks grew hot and all you were focused on was holding Monoma there and never letting go.

Your eyes slipped closed as you melted into the kiss with ease, giving a happy hum of approval as you deepened the kiss. However, Monoma noticed this and immediately pulled away. His own cheeks were red and he reached up to wipe his mouth. He almost looked angry as he stared down at you, “What...what are you doing?” he questioned and you tilted your head, first, he wanted to kiss you and now he was questioning why you returned the kiss?

Your head was beginning to hurt. “I...was returning the kiss,” you said simply and a growl came from Monoma’s throat before he grabbed your shoulders, roughly applying pressure which made you wince. “Why...you were supposed to reject me!” he exclaimed, completely ignoring the fact that his voice could reach the fellow students. “Shh.” you scolded him before letting out a sigh.

“I...I don’t know why you want me to reject you, are you used to rejection because of your personality? Because that’s not right, if you’re looking to be a hero I respect that. Despite the fact, others may not see it in you and find you to be annoying. I don’t. I genuinely like you, Monoma!” you shouted back and watched as his jaw dropped, he took a step back and clasped his hand over his mouth. His face seemed to twist into an unexplainable emotion, something between confusion, relief, and sadness.

You noticed that his eyes were getting moist, “You...but why…” he questioned, his voice just a whisper and you pouted before shrugging. “I...I can’t explain it. I mean, you’re right. Maybe I don’t like you in the sense of a crush, but I can see it working between us if you wanted to give it a try and I…” before you could say anymore Monoma turned and ran away. “Hey!” you called after him, attempting to give chase but after a few steps, you came to a halt.

Just watching as he pushed past his fellow classmates and continued to run. Many people screamed his name, including the teachers but it seemed like he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon and your heart sunk. Was this your fault or did he need time to process the fact that you implied you returned his feelings? Either way, you knew one thing. You wouldn’t give up and he couldn’t avoid you now.

After all, that was one quality Class 1-A was known for. Not hesitating and refusing to back down. You’d confront him next chance you got, corner him like he cornered you until he understood it was alright to have feelings for you. Even if it felt like he was betraying his own class, eventually he’d learn through you that it was okay. You couldn’t choose who you loved and though you now knew he wasn’t used to affection. You’d take it one step at a time, be his hero and save him.

#monoma x reader #neito x reader #bnha requests #bnha x reader #Anonymous

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wordsablaze · 4 years ago

Text

12~ i’ll be your lighthouse

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: i didn’t think i’d finish this in time but i felt like spiting that spoiler so happy valentine’s !!

@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @havenoffandoms @lasaga666 @mayastormborn

previous chapter

“Ow, Scorpion!” Eskel grumbles as said horse headbutts him.

It’s the third time she’s done so in the last two minutes and at this point, it’s safe to conclude she’s trying to complain about Jaskier taking too long. Eskel would agree with her but he doesn’t actually know how long it’s supposed to take anyone to purchase several items at a tailor’s so he sticks to waiting.

And waiting.

And being headbutted by Scorpion twice more.

And waiting.

And-

“Eskel!”

He turns his head to see Jaskier beaming at him, a small bag slung over his shoulder. It takes him a moment to realise what’s changed but he feels like a fool when he does for the bard is now wearing an entirely new outfit and it’s such a blatant contrast from his previous faded blue look that he has no idea how he nearly missed it.

“Well, what do you think?” Jaskier asks, his eyes bright.

Eskel blinks. “It’s very different.”

And it is. Although his chemise is a dark grey that’s only one shade away from looking like a shadow, both his doublet and his breeches are a deep red, decorated with spiralling silver patterns and black buttons that look far too delicate to function properly.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Thank you, darling, I hadn’t noticed.”

“And it looks, uh, very striking,” Eskel offers, still internally trying to get over how well the colour somehow makes his eyes seem even brighter.

Thankfully, Jaskier doesn’t seem too bothered by disjointed feedback, turning his attention to Scorpion when she steps towards him, gently running his fingers down her mane. “Sorry I took so long but not to worry, dear girl, I found you some apples.”

Eskel watches, transfixed, as Jaskier pulls an apple out of his pocket and offers it up to her, this time with no hesitation or guilt whatsoever; it’s oddly relieving to know the two are on such good terms for some reason.

“I really am sorry I took so long, Rafal was just finishing something else up - a spectacular dress I must say - and wouldn’t let me leave until I bought two sets even though I told him several times that someone was waiting for me!”

Chuckling, Eskel shakes his head. “It’s okay, we didn’t mind the wait. Especially not if it means you look so much more, uh…”

Jaskier smiles. “Like myself? Like a bard? Like someone you’d wish to be seen with? Like a true master of the liberal arts?”

Eskel starts nodding, only to frown. Before he can voice his complaint at Jaskier’s phrasing, Jaskier clears his throat. “So, should we get going? You mentioned travelling north, I believe. Piana would be the obvious next place to stop, though if you intend not to appreciate being able to sleep under a solid roof for as long as possible, then I suppose we could simply follow the river?”

“We can stop at an inn,” Eskel says first, a little confused.

“Great! I’m almost certain I’ve never ruined any marriages there so it should work out perfectly. Shall we?” Jaskier asks, holding out a hand.

Eskel is too busy wondering how Jaskier breezes through conversation so smoothly to catch up in time and unfortunately, he only figures he’s missed something when the air turns sour around them.

Cursing internally, he blinks himself back into the present. It’s only a second later that he notices Jaskier pulling his hand back. He reaches out to grab it before Jaskier gets the wrong impression, gently entwining their fingers. “Hey, what happened?”

Jaskier exhales slowly. “I thought for a moment that you might have… changed your mind. About the- this,” he manages, squeezing Eskel’s hand.

“Not for as long as I live, bardling,” Eskel promises; he’s more than proud of the small, honey-scented smile he receives in reply.

Scorpion headbutts him again, at which point he remembers what he was going to ask. “You said you only bought two sets?”

“Yes?” Jaskier frowns. “I did try telling him I only really needed one of each thing but Rafal was so adamant, you should have seen him! A lecture on fashion to rival my own, truly! But I honestly didn’t mean to-”

“No no, Jaskier, wait,” Eskel interrupts, “It’s okay. I’m glad you got more than one, that was the point after all. I just meant to ask if you’d like Scorpion to carry the bag, it doesn’t seem heavy and we’re both walking so it’s no trouble for her.”

Jaskier’s mouth forms almost a perfect circle before his cheeks flush and he nods. “Oh. Well, that would be lovely. You are most certainly the kindest man to grace the continent!”

Eskel can’t help wondering what kind of men Jaskier is used to dealing with if he thinks such simple compassion is so difficult to encounter. There’s one obvious answer but he’s certain Jaskier’s expectations are rooted in far more than just his time with Geralt so he holds off on cursing him this time.

He also briefly wonders if there’s anything in the bag at all, it’s so light in comparison to when he has to carry his armour anywhere, but Jaskier hadn’t smelt like he was lying so he doesn’t risk worrying him by asking as he attaches it to Scorpion.

“Could I-?” Jaskier cuts himself off, then takes a deep breath and tries again. “Could I have my lute back?”

“You don’t need to ask,” Eskel replies, easily handing it to him.

Jaskier nods, visibly relieved, and slings the lute over his shoulder where the bag had been. Though it seems as though the bag had been a substitute for the lute case if the way Jaskier’s whole frame seems to relax is anything to go by. It reminds him of how comforting it is to feel his swords at his back and he’s glad that Jaskier had felt confident enough to ask for such comfort.

With that, they set off, Eskel keeping Scorpion’s reins in one hand and Jaskier’s hand in the other. It’s a little odd to have both his hands occupied but he can’t say he’s complaining. If he’s honest, he’s doing the exact opposite of complaining.

“Why red?” Eskel asks eventually.

Jaskier jumps, his grip on Eskel’s hand fleetingly tightening to an almost painful level. He chuckles softly as his pulse slows to its normal speed. “Quite simply, darling, it reminded me of you. I thought it would only be fair for my first new look to reflect the one who prompted its existence.”

Eskel has to close his eyes for a moment in order to process that. He’s not sure what he’d been imagining - something to do with poetic contrasts or rebuilding, perhaps - but such casual sincerity hadn’t even registered as a possibility and he’s pretty certain the newfound warm twisting of his stomach relates to being honoured.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “but you really didn’t have to.”

Jaskier turns to him with an eyebrow raised. “And you didn’t have to delay our travels in the first place but here we are. Now stop rejecting my gratitude or I will force you to listen to it in every single tavern we stop by.”

“Aren’t you already doing that?” Eskel points out.

“That doesn’t count!” Jaskier argues. “That one is beneficial for both of us.”

It probably is, but Eskel has a feeling their reasoning would be rather different. He doesn’t say anything else, though, just gently tugs Jaskier close until their shoulders are brushing and appreciates the way his breath hitches before he relaxes again, smelling sweetly of silk and sunshine.

He’s never before been in such close contact with someone for so long but it’s a pleasant change. Jaskier starts humming after a while, swinging their hands in tune with whatever he’s singing in his head, and Eskel has to force himself not to distract or interrupt him because good gods the experience is so soothing.

Predictably, Jaskier freezes once he stops humming, looking for all the world like a kitten caught pushing something off a table. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t need to apologise,” Eskel finishes for him with a smile that he wishes could be as soft as he intends it to be.

“Right,” Jaskier agrees, then laughs. “You haven’t heard that one before, have you?”

Eskel shakes his head. “Should I recognise it?”

“I would be surprised if you did,” Jaskier says, “for I got it from a crumbling tome written in elder that I stole from an ancient crypt deep within the forests.”

“You what?” Eskel frowns, not sure whether or not he should be concerned that Jaskier is inadvertently summoning vengeful spirits or the like with whatever it is he’s using to pass the time.

It takes Jaskier a minute to stop laughing. “Okay, I lied. It wasn’t buried in a crypt and I didn’t steal anything… that time. But it was from an old tome written in elder.”

Eskel sighs but gives in and laughs when Scorpion nudges him, causing Jaskier to grin happily. “Clearly one of you thought it was amusing, what brilliant taste she has! Hey, that deserves better than an eye-roll!”

“Perhaps,” Eskel admits, almost guilty about said eye-roll. Almost.

Jaskier snorts. “We both know you’re secretly amused too. So, do you want to hear it? Do you know elder?”

Eskel shrugs. “A little. Probably not enough to understand your song, though.”

“We’ll see!”

And so they do. Except Eskel doesn’t see because he understands perhaps a dozen of the couple hundred words Jaskier sings, but it sounds enchanting all the same. It also feels enchanting because Jaskier taps out the rhythm onto the back of Eskel’s hand as he sings and he’d be lying if he said his whole arm doesn’t feel the resulting warmth.

He’s not sure what to make of the words themselves; Jaskier’s tone is filled with hope and agony and something wistful that sounds as if it’s been plucked from the dreams of fallen angels. His voice never wavers in the slightest and yet there is an unease to his singing, a promise that threatens to be broken, a wish stuck between being fulfilled and being destroyed. It’s beautiful and it’s painful and it’s nothing he’s ever heard before.

Jaskier is breathless when he stops, face flushed and eyes sparkling, and Eskel wishes he knew more of what had been sung so he could adequately express his admiration. “That was magnificent,” he whispers finally.

“It is,” Jaskier agrees after catching his breath, his grin so wide it looks like it’s about to break free of his face altogether. “It was years ago but it feels like just yesterday that I learned it. I don’t even understand every word but it still makes sense together, like a mystery that can only be solved if it’s being sung.”

Eskel has no idea what he means but it sounds poetic and seems to fit him perfectly so he just hums in acknowledgement and lets silence wash over them as they continue. Not that the silence lasts long.

“Why do you wear red then?” Jaskier asks.

Unprepared for such a question, Eskel draws a blank. “It hides the bloodstains?”

Their hands being firmly tied together means he’s forced to stop walking when Jaskier freezes on the spot, his face a comical epitome of shock.

“Gods, Jaskier, I- I was joking. It’s not really- It’s just a nice colour,” Eskel blurts, torn between laughing and cursing at himself for being so thoughtless.

He swears he can literally see Jaskier’s exhale. It only takes a few moments for him to recover and use his index finger to poke Eskel’s chest. “Don’t ever joke about bloodstains like that. I am well aware that you witchers like to think you can get injured and bleed out and stitch yourselves up as you please but you can’t. You can’t and you shouldn’t and I swear if I was in charge of things, I would have it outlawed to- to not take care of yourselves. You horrible, selfless, insensitive, beautiful beings. No! Ugh, that was meant to be an insult.”

Eskel is still torn between laughing and cursing but now he’s aware of a much more tempting third option, which is to wrap his arms around Jaskier and hold him close for a moment. A long moment. Several long moments, really.

Jaskier buries his head in Eskel’s neck so Eskel lifts one arm to curl his hand around the back of Jaskier’s head, gently running his hand through his hair. Jaskier shivers at the touch but only holds on tighter so Eskel takes that as a sign to continue, waiting patiently as the wilting flowers in the distance between them fade into calmer waves of ink and rose and sunrise.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel murmurs.

Sighing softly, Jaskier pulls back. “No, I’m sorry. I…”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Eskel says, even though he would very much appreciate an explanation for such a fierce response.

Jaskier shakes his head, brushing non-existent tears from his eyes. “I need you to know it wasn’t your fault… It was the... song. It’s a rather powerful tale and I forgot how hellish it is to convey. There are a lot of emotions involved in storytelling, you know?”

He doesn’t, not really.

And he wants to ask about the song, about whatever it is Jaskier had been singing about. He wants to ask what was being said and what the mystery entailed and why it was hellish to convey but the last thing he wants is for Jaskier to panic and spiral into guilt so he swallows his questions down.

“I can imagine,” he says, offering a smile.

Jaskier grins at that, raising both hands and placing them gently on either side of his face, his thumb stroking careful lines across his cheeks. “You have the sweetest smile, Eskel.”

When Eskel makes to pull back, Jaskier leans forward and draws him close until their noses are pressed together, his hands keeping his head where it is without hurting him even in the slightest. “Don’t run from my words, darling, they’re only the truth and they’ll catch up with you in the end.”

“Why does that sound like it’s a threat?” Eskel asks, his throat strangely clogged.

Laughing, Jaskier brushes his thumbs across Eskel’s cheeks again, this time tracing his scars. “It is a threat. I’m very threatening.”

Eskel laughs. He hears Scorpion huff behind him and that only makes him laugh harder, Jaskier joining in until they’re both forced to let go of each other lest they topple over and hurt themselves. Well, falling over wouldn’t exactly hurt a witcher but Eskel doesn’t want to take any risks on the behalf of bards.

“Shut up, I can be threatening!” Jaskier exclaims, but he’s too busy trying to catch his breath from laughing too hard to sound as if he’s telling the truth.

“Of course. I feel very threatened,” Eskel teases, but it’s not quite a lie.

A part of him certainly feels threatened, the part that never before considered his smile sweet or his voice kind or his actions worthy of song. Though perhaps that’s a threat worth embracing, he thinks. Then Jaskier’s hand slips back into his and he decides it’s most definitely a threat worth embracing, with both arms wide open.

Scorpion must agree with him for she nearly breaks his nose as she moves her head, forcing him to step closer to Jaskier until they’re back to their arms brushing as they walk, falling perfectly into step with one another.

“The murky depths of a hollow love, the lies that you see above… the surface…”

Eskel groans as Jaskier starts singing again, still not remotely comfortable with hearing about himself so often, but both of them know it’s more of a performatory complaint because being immortalised in song is an honour he won’t refuse.

He has no idea how Jaskier can walk and sing at the same time and he makes a mental note to pause for a break once the song is complete. The lyrics all but wash over him as they walk because he’s too focused on the way Jaskier keeps swinging their arms or tapping on his skin to keep himself in tune, and this time there's no subtle melancholy to watch out for.

“Be not afraid if danger is near…”

He does glance sideways at that, though, because he’s pretty sure Jaskier had mentioned a siren as opposed to generic danger before, but Jaskier is grinning and winks at him when their eyes meet.

“For the rose of the wolves will hold your hand.”

Eskel smiles back at that, tightening his grip on Jaskier’s hand. He doesn’t quite know how to convey that he feels the same way so he just raises an eyebrow. “I could have sworn that rhymed last time.”

Jaskier splutters in offence for a moment before elbowing him. “It’s not as though I’ll be singing that line in taverns, it wouldn’t be right for dozens of strangers to steal your lovely hands away.”

“Not to worry, bardling, It’s not a service I offer to just anyone,” Eskel laughs, frankly not convinced that anyone else would even be interested.

“Well I intend to take full advantage.” Jaskier winks again.

His face now all but aching from smiling for much longer than he’s used to, Eskel nods. “The pleasure will be all mine.”

Jaskier beams at him, his face still flushed from having sung for so long, and Eskel is absolutely sure that had their positions been reversed, he’d likely have sung that into a ballad of some sort.

“We should probably take a break,” Eskel says a couple minutes later once they reach a suitable place to stop, a small clearing visible not too far from the road.

As if on cue, Scorpion neighs and stops walking.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Jaskier chuckles.

And when they settle to eat this time, they’re sat right beside one another, their elbows bumping and their knees knocking together every so often, and Eskel marvels at how something so new and unfamiliar and borderline threatening can also seem so right.

okay, i know it’s not quite valentine’s-worthy romance but there’s only one braincell between them and scorpion has it atm-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher sideblog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

#jaskel #jaskier x eskel #the witcher #jaskier #eskel #fanfiction #slow burn #hurt comfort #hurt jaskier #soft eskel #fluff and angst #scorpion is the real mvp #my writing #tmypicta #we have hit 30k that's pretty neat-

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ymiwritesstuff · 4 years ago

Note

Hello, friend! I truly hope you safe and healthy during these trying times! May I request a cutesy scenario w/ SDC DIO and an innocent, giving, optimistically cheery, warm-hearted fem s/o gardening? Thank you, dear and have a terrific night! 💜🌷

I’m so incredibly sorry that this took so long, I hope you can forgive me. I loved the wholesome nature of this request and though Dio may be a bit out of character, I still hope you enjoy this! Thank you so much for the request!!

A Flowery Memory

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 3: Stardust Crusaders

Dio Brando x Fem!Reader

Summary: During a usual night at his manor, Dio is reminded of a simpler time by the presence of his beloved and the flowers she so gently cradled.

Notes: Fluff

Quiet humming filled the usual empty silence of the manor and gracefully emanated to the sharp ears of the Lord himself, catching his attention from the book he was reading while the darkness and pearlescent moonlight embraced his muscular form. The humming of the same song he had heard on multiple occasions made him stand up from his impressive bed and head out to seek the location of the person responsible for creating such heavenly melodies.

On his way towards the sound, which Dio knew was coming from the entrance of his mansion, his eyes glanced at the various flowers and plants placed around the hallways that bloomed elegantly even in the dead of night. Though he didn’t care much for such things, as just like every living being, flowers would eventually wither and die, Dio couldn’t deny the fact that they were quite stunning, especially since the person who had placed them there was someone quite special to him.

Your delicate hands carefully examined the blooming flowers planted just outside the entrance, the gentle humming still very much audible throughout the mansion. It was no surprise to anyone that your kindhearted nature enjoyed the joys of gardening, the amount of flowers decorating the impressive mansion increasing little by little ever since you had stumbled upon your Lord’s lair. It had been like this since you were a child, the sight of blooming flowers and life-filled plants brought you an endless amount of joy and always made a gentle smile appear on your lips, much like the one you were wearing now.

Though you knew Dio couldn’t witness your creations under the sun, the time of day when flowers were undoubtedly in their prime, you dedicated your time during the nights to ensure that the flora looked just as stunning under the moon as they did under the sun. It was the least you could do for your Lord, who so kindly welcomed you into his complicated life.

“Tending to the flowers again, I see,” said a voice next to you. Your humming comes to a sudden halt and you turn your head towards the source of the voice, only for your eyes to meet with the muscular figure of the blond vampire, his body practically bathing in the moonlight. The sight is something to behold and when Dio seems to notice your eyes filled with amazement staring at him, he lightly smirks and that is enough to snap you out of his spell, making you stand up.

“Hello, Dio. What brings you here?” You ask, a gentle, pleasant smile shining on your lips that fills the Lord’s dull and dark insides with warmth that rivals the sun itself. With your innocent and kind presence next to his cunning and evil one, you were like night and day. Yet, it didn’t bother either of you.

“You brought me here, my dear.” He steps closer to the flowers planted on the ground, his amber eyes carefully examining them. “A heavenly melody produced by those adorable little lips of yours reached my ears and I simply couldn’t help but follow it.” Though his back was facing you, he could virtually feel the heat radiating from your cheeks as you stepped closer. “I see..”

Your (E/C) eyes notice Dio inspecting a certain crimson flower, seemingly intrigued by it. With a smile you crouch down and carefully pick it up, hearing his silent desire to examine it closer. “Do you like it?” You ask, voice soft and delicate as it always was, the essence of purity and love embedded in it. The Lord carefully takes the flora from your hand, his claws lightly brushing against the delicate surface of the skin.

“It is quite stunning, yes.” Your already tender smile becomes even more delighted after hearing his words. In truth, Dio had seen this flower before and the sight of it brought a wave of memories the Lord thought he had long forgotten. The more his amber eyes looked at the blood-red petals, the more he remembered of a time a century ago, a time when everything was better.

“I’m glad you like it.” Your eyes that pleasantly shone under the moon look up at him, noting just how strangely peaceful he looked. His eyes that so carefully examined the flower were missing their usual fiery and dangerous glow, and were instead filled with a mellow radiance you hadn’t seen before. The view was infrequent, but you cherished it, a gentle giggle escaping your lips.

The angelic melody of your giggle snaps him out of his state you didn’t quite understand and he locks his eyes with yours, having regained their usual appearance. A small smile, not a usual smirk, tugs one corner of his lips. “A flower’s life is a short one, (Name),” He says, his words shining upon your smaller form much like the moon above. The Lord brings the flower that holds such precious memories closer to you, lightly placing it behind your ear. Your curious gaze follows his hand and you look at him, surprised, but strangely touched by the action.

“That’s why we need to appreciate them while we can.” The tender words he spoke were something you had never heard him say and in response to this, you wrap your arms around his larger form, desiring to hold him close. The loving embrace is returned by the Lord as he carefully holds you, the memory from a century ago still fresh in his mind.

Despite his cruel exterior and the quite literal lack of a heart, Dio was once a human. A human who had a torturous upbringing but a mother so kind and warm who cherished him. Much like the person in his arms.

#jjba #jojo #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Stardust Crusaders #dio #dio brando #dio x reader #dio brando x reader #jojo dio #jjba dio #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jojo dio x reader #jjba dio x reader #reader insert #fluff

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trekkie-in-space · 4 years ago

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KakagaiWeek2020 - Day 7 - Free

Author : JackB

Rating : General Audience.

Words : 1298

Resume : Kakashi find Gai napping under the sun. Follow a lot of kisses.

Tag : Post-War, fluff, teeth roting fluff, chronic pain, 8th gates recovery, long recovery, established relationship, kisses,

Finding Gai sprawled in bed in the middle of the day, peacefully asleep between warm blankets, would have been an excessively rare sight before the war. Taking nap had never been in Gai habit until now. One that will probably not stick too much around. Which is a shame. There’s just something beautiful to see Gai bathing in the warm light of the sun. His scars from the gates flaring of a lava red, bright and deep like fire where the sun ray touch him. His chest raise slowly to his slumber, calm and serene, for it is one of the rare time pain doesn’t bother him too much.

If Kakashi still had Obito’s sharingan, he would capture this moment and keep it forever in his mind. But all he can hope now is to be lucky enough to catch Gai taking a nap under the sun again.

It’s not like Gai likes them though, he feels like he misses the high of the day and it doesn’t help his mood. He doesn’t want to take a nap, but he doesn’t really have the choice. Recovering from the eighth gates cannot be done in a week, or ever actually, Tsunade had insisted on it. The strain put on his body had been so high that a full recovery is utterly impossible. But she assured the exhaustion shutting him down completely multiple time a day would wear off to more acceptable extent. Hopefully his chronic pain would follow the same pattern. But they are pretty much in undiscovered country there.

It’s been months and Gai slowly stabilized to two to three naps a day. Far from the start were staying awake for an hour was already a hardship. But even now he can only resist for so long before his body gives up. Gai feel it like a betrayal of the body he builds and trusted. He understands why it’s necessary, but accepting it is different. And it’s without counting the pain, when it reaches peaks, it’s not pretty. Gai has probably one of the best pain resistance in the whole village, but constant pain will take its tool on anybody.

Kakashi pull out of his contemplation and remove his uniform. He won’t be one to refuse rest when he can. His position as Hokage takes way too much time off him and finding a moment in his schedule is as rare as Gai taking naps before the war was. So he doesn’t hesitate to gently sneak under the blanket making sure not to wake up Gai. But as he snuggles close against him, Gai let out a little groan.

Kakashi is not sure if he is sorry to wake up Gai, sad to not being able to watch him peacefully sleep anymore or happy not to have to wait for him.

It’s with half-closed eyes that Gai turn to him, pulling Kakashi even closer as he gently wakes up.

“Slept well Turtle ?” He says quietly.

Gai mumble something inaudible, a smile on his lips.

‘He seems in a good mood.’ Kakashi notice.

“Your day ?” Gai asks in a breath as he open his eyes to Kakashi. His voice is hoarse from sleep.

“You know how it is, papers, reports, problems to fix, the routine.” Gai nod.

“You’re back pretty early, you’re just doing a pause on your schedule ?” He asks knowing Kakashi is more likely to finish his work when the sun is down.

Kakashi want to let out a little laugh when he feels Gai clung on him as if he’s going to disappear in a minute. Which could fairly be the case.

“No, finished everything for the day, outside of an emergency, I’m off.”

“Good.” Gai says with a grin.

He snuggles against his neck to give a little kiss and Kakashi immediately contract from the tickle it gives him. He can feel Gai hand on him, gently pushing his clothes away to reach the skin on his flank. His hand is warm and he can’t help but relax to the calloused touch he know and trust. Gai kiss his neck again.

“You’re in a great mood.” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice. It became rare for Gai to wake up in a good state of mind.

“Hm.”

“I’m curious has to why ?”

“It was my first nap of the day.”

“Really ?” It’s a first.

“Yeah, soon I won’t need any anymore.” Gai continue to mouth at him. Pushing the mask higher so he can kiss more skin. Kakashi flinch at the touch and Gai smile. Loving how sensitive his rival has always been.

“Don’t over do it though, it’s okay to take time.”

“Let’s not have this conversation again, haven’t we ? I should be able to do more.”

“For someone coming back from an ineluctable death I think you’re doing way enough.”

“Kakashi.. ” Gai’s right. It’s not time to argue about the subject, not when he can relax in Gai tender embrace.

“I know, I know.”

His laugh interrupt his words. Kakashi cower on himself to recover from the tickles Gai is determined to inflict on him. Gai doesn’t even have to touch him sometime, just his breath is enough to awake his nerve. The kisses never stop, anywhere he can reach is good enough and Kakashi gently wiggle in his arms.

“Who said you could kiss me like that ?”

“Me.”

“I don’t think I gave you the right.”

“I have all the right.” His teeth scrape at his skin, sending a shiver all the way to his legs. Kakashi makes a weird rattle as the word ‘do you now ?’ die in his throat. His teasing cut straight.

“I never said they were free.” His composure is rattled, but it passes.

“Hm ?”

“The kisses.”

“They are for me.”

“Actually they are very expensive, and your debt is pretty high and keep getting higher and higher.” Kakashi abandon himself in Gai embrace as he says this, his eye close for an instant but as he feels Gai retreat back he open it again. Almost outraged his rival decided to back up now.

“Then tell me Dear, how can I repay my debt ?” Kakashi’s chin shake at the nickname. It always makes him weak when Gai call him dear, especially with this particular voice.

Kakashi lower his mask.

“I think you know how.” He grin stupidly, even more as he sees Gai smile and close distance with him.

Kakashi can’t help but laugh when Gai reach his lips, but he quickly catch the drift and answer Gai passion with avidity and hunger. It feels like he hasn’t touched those lips for months when in fact they kissed that morning.

When they break apart Kakashi linger in the moment, eye closed and content. He can feel Gai eyes on him, scrutinizing him, noting every little wear out mark on his skin, every new wrinkle, every trail of exhaustion life left on him. Fingers brush his face, move to his temple and for a moment he is afraid to open his eye and look back.

There’s no word that can describe the way Gai look at him. If this is love then whatever other people have, it’s not it. If this is love, then he is the only one to have ever been loved.

At least, when Gai look at him that way, that’s what it feels like.

And for an instant he feels like crumbling under Gai’s gaze. It’s too much. He pushes the feeling away thought, then pull him back in his arms and roll them on the bed so he can be on top.

“I’m going for revenge.” He says before kissing Gai’s neck.

Gai’s laugh is a delight to his ears.

End.

#KAKAGAIWEEK #KKGWEEK #KAKAGAI #KAKASHI #GAI #MAITO GAI #NART #KAKAGAI WEEK 2020

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silencebetrayer · 4 years ago

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Little People - An Irish Fairy Tale Part 2

The reign of dreams and roses

"Don't bother them, my dear. You were lucky they found your little trap hilarious!" "Mister O'Reilly, what happened in this valley? Why is everyone warning me against the little people?" A long silence followed, during which the old man sipped his Connemara peated whiskey. "Sweetheart, you may hear a lot of tales down at the pub, but also in our family there's something to tell. You've never known your cousin Billy, haven't you? Well, he might tell you about that time he became slave of the Queen of Spiny Roses for a whole moon cycle." "Slave?" "Don't be surprised. They're ancient souls. They conceive only those rapports they can understand and here in the citadel for a thousand years there was a Count and his servants. They don't understand this free life thing, without owners, where everyone seems equal to each other. They have a very strict hierarchy and I can promise you.. if you keep giving enough rope, they will tie you up. At least, that's what happened to Billy." "What did Billy have to do for the Queen?" "At that time Billy would have sold his soul to fill his glass, to those vices the good people like to cling. A night in the woods a little crowd of fairies bumped into giant Billy, the Queen ordered her folks to bring their guest a glass of the bitter Spirit's nectar. He guzzle that witches' brew without a single word. He could swear it was tasty like ambrosia of all forgotten Gods. The Queen claimed a payment for his drink and Billy started to mock her 'Is it I pay you?' said Billy 'could I not just take you up and put you in my pocket as easily as a blackberry?' The Queen did not let go of that insolence and the good lords tightened the invisible harness they caught him in and led him to their ruler like a steed. She imposed a vow of obedience till the end of next moon cycle and on occasion she showed off their rivals her power over him, claiming his tongue as footrest." "I don't get what you're saying, sir. You did tell me we've got power over fairy manifestation.. that it depends on our thoughts and our desires, our hopes and fears." The old man smiled "From what slavery would a man be freed? From drink-slavery or from a queen-slavery?" The girl understood that story was concealing a metaphor of redemption and humility. The old man's stories are indeed so bewildering: you never know where the symbol ends and the anecdote begins. "Anyway when we found Billy he was covered in stings from the waist up. He said the ball of Roses court had been held on his chest. A ball where every damsel's heel is a thorn of a flower and all skirts are petals. To us he had fallen in a field full of nettles." "What a strange story. I would never be enslaved by such a wicked Queen. Why didn't he rise up against her, I wonder." The old man shrugged muttering a proverb of his parts "The lake is not burdened by its swan, the steed by its bridle, or a man by the soul that is in him".

***

That night Elizabeth wrote a quick note in Gaelic by the windowsill:"I want to meet you. Come and see me.". She left a sugar cube as gift. The girl rolled over her bed restlessly, hoping her message would reach its destination and, as often happens, sleep came all of a sudden, like a swoon. She found herself in a very strange place never seen before. It resempled an ancient kitchen on the basement of a castle, with no windows, red briks as walls and roof, painted cardboard as wallpaper on one side, a makeshift chimney. Outside the noise of the rain was heavy and emptied out of the comforting sensation with which it gifted melancholic souls. She was identifying in that room a combination of minuscule things. All chairs were small wooden cubes of an old child's game, and so was the table. They weren't comfy, but pieces of cloth stuffed with wool, roughly sewn, gave softness to the seat. A pocket mirror served as tray for a miniature porcelaine tea set, a bit chipped, but lovely at first sight. The sugar cube she had left in gift was lying right next to it, with an awl sticked at its center. The girl realized she was falling in a bizarre dream scenario, but something real was also taking place. "Is this a dream?" "Of course, little girl" answered a middle-aged male voice from the outside. The small door of that sort of kitchen was a metal shutter. A man was moving it with his shoulder, carrying a bundle of sticks or twigs bound together and a bucket of water. Covered with a waterproof plastic bag, the man laid down all the materials and cast a glance over the table to be sure everything was in place. His big nose and bushy eyebrows gave him an austere touch and there was something of the craftsman's wisdom in his skilled hands and his silence. He hunged his unusual coat on the knight's head of a chessboard (his clothes rack, she guessed). The girl was paralyzed and hugged herself in the nightgown. She wasn't cold, the atmosphere was warm enough, she was feeling a sense of vulnerability that made her closed off. The man took care of the fireplace and fill the water on the teapot. "Come closer to the fireplace, kid!" He had a raspy voice and an unjustified scowl to her feeling. "Why'd you bring me here?" He looked her up and down like a fool, then he nodded toward the table where a piece of paper was serving as tablecloth. 'I want to meet you.' read the girl, recognizing her handwriting. "But.. are you Tuvia!?" After a moment of silence, during which the man was trying to catch the sincerity of the question, he laughed outright "AHAHAH Me? That leaf in the wind? Do I seem a rain spirit?! I thought you were a smart one, kid, but if these are the premises.." The girl didn't seem to appreciate the little man humour "So Sir.. you picked up a message that was not addressed to you. Why should you interfere with my correspondence?!" "Correspondence? Look, sweetie.. what do you think we have a mail service here in Bluebell forest? We give more values to a tree then your own kind.. we don't waste their sheets for a futile message." "Who the hell are you, anyway? Little people? What are you doing here in my dreams?" "That's how we meet for the first time. We don't accept invitations from strangers." The teapot started to splutter on the fireplace, the steam bubbles looked like small domes and the water sounded so much deeper then usual.. she understood that her size was making every sound so alien and unsettling. From the infusion aromas of wildflowers started to spread in the room. "What's your name?" "My dear, what sort of question is that? I'm the guardian spirit of O'Really's family. My name's O'Really, of course" "So.. Do Guardian spirits take the name from the family they protect?" He didn't answer. He didn't seem to like rhetorical question, but was forcing himself to stay kind and served the tea calmly with a piece of sugar cube in it. "Listen, child. We Home spirits don't talk more than is strictly necessary. Our silence is our invisibility. So let me get right to the point: you heard elder O'Reilly advice before.. Do not upset the spirits of these woods. He's telling you this for your own good" Being called 'child" from that Spirit turned Elizabeth against him. She changed attitude and the tone of voices turned sharp and bitter. "So you just don't collect someonelse's letters, you also eavesdrop their conversations!" Talking to her was a great exercise in patience, he acknowledged. "It's not what you're thinking.. I can't just ignore whatever happens inside these walls. We're born from the feelings of this family, if they are worried for you, so am I. That's why I appear in your dream." "I weep from your sudden sentimentality" she said sarcastically "but I'm willing to bet that you were able to eavesdrop on our conversations simply because your lair is not so far from the fireplace" "I'm warning you, don't try to find it. You'd cause trouble to the O'Really family!" "Perhaps you should've considered that before you invited me in first place, you silly little man! Now, give this KID here a good reason she should not wake up and start to play cat-and-mouse game with you?" She sipped the tea, staring at the little spirit with an imperious smile that didn't bode well. "A reason, you say? With humans reasoning is not persuasive. I just pointed the sill you shall not cross, my dear, I didn't mean to push you through it" "Advice I didn't ask for" she crossed her arms and the situation freezed up. The home spirit resigned himself. "How do I wake?" she asked. "Don't worry, soon enough you'll be laying in your bed. Humans have control over the waking hours, but we spirits have our revenge in dreams realm. You're lucky we didn't inherit your cruelty. Anyway, if I can't dissuade you, I will be your messenger and maybe one day I will lead you to Tuvia" "I don't get if you're here to sabotage me or to help me" "We should not threaten the delicate balance currently in place in Bluebell forest. The Queen of Roses is the keeper of this equilibrium, she can't bear humans intrusiveness into her reign. Especially from someone that does look like her." "Do I look like the Queen of Roses?" Elizabeth's questions were to him as sharp and wit as the echo of a well. "Tuvia fought The Court of Roses, you know?" "That light thingie? He's fragile like a blade of grass. I bet if I dare to lay down in the garden he'd become a stain on my dress. Also, if he's so brave why isn't he in the forest, why doesn't he just keep fighiting?" "He's an exile, he no longer knows the comfort of a border. He's devoted to the rain, cause he sees himself and his destiny in the clouds. A new Queen would save him. But he doesn't want to be saved!" The Spirit of O'Reilly got pretty mouthy with sadness. Elizabeth recognized some of the distinctive features of elder Mr O'Reilly and the hardness of Mrs O'Reilly too. A weird mix of both personality traits. Elizabeth sipped the infusion, this time fully enjoying the aroma of freshly picked flowers. She felt her body tossing in her sleep.. she didn't want to wake right now. O'Reilly spirit stared at her then nodded as a farewell. When she opened her eyes, the Spirit's last words were echoing in her head, filling the heart with an odd hope "a new Queen.." she repeated to herself. She could have sworn to feel the wildflowers taste on the tip of her tongue.

To Be Continued...

Ita version

Il regno delle rose e dei sogni

"Non disturbarli, ragazza mia. Sei stata fortunata che abbiano preso con umorismo la tua piccola trappola! In qualche modo devono aver trovato la tua provocazione uno spasso!" "Signor O'Reilly, cosa è successo in questa valle per cui tutti mi mettono in guardia da loro" Ci fu un lungo silenzio in cui il vecchio sorseggiò il suo Whiskey, rigorosamente torbato del Connemara. "Sweetheart, ne potresti sentire un bel pò giù al pub. Ma in famiglia abbiamo già di che raccontare. Tu non lo hai mai conosciuto il cugino Billy. Beh, lui potrebbe dirti di quella volta che restò schiavo per una luna intera della regina delle fate Rosa Spinae." "Schiavo?" "Non ti stupire, sono anime antiche, concepiscono solo i rapporti che conoscono e per più di 1000 anni qui nella rocca c'era un conte e i suoi servi, non la capiscono questa faccenda moderna del vivere senza padroni, dove tutti sembrano uguali eccetera. Hanno una rigida gerarchia e puoi giurarci che se continui a dargli spago ti daranno il bel servito, come fu per il vecchio Billy" "Cosa fece Billy per la regina?" "A quel tempo Billy si sarebbe dannato l'anima per riempirsi il bicchiere, ed è ai vizi che il buon popolo si appiglia. Quando una notte in un bosco la piccola schiera si imbattè in quel gigante, la regina ordinò che gli fosse portato un bicchiere del fiele degli spiriti, lui non se lo fece ripetere e lo trangugiò d'un fiato. Billy giurò che era il nettare liquoroso di tutti gli dei ormai dimenticati. La regina reclamò un pagamento e Billy la derise 'Io pagare te? Ma se posso metterti tranquillamente in tasca come una mora!' La regina non passò sopra quell'insolenza e il buon popolo lo legò a briglie invisibili che non potevano essere sciolte e quel che è peggio gli impose il voto dell'obbedienza per una luna intera. Di venne il destriero della regina, ma all'occorrenza la regina dava sfoggio di potere alle sue rivali, reclamando la lingua del gigante come poggiapiedi" "Non mi torna quel che dite, signore. Avevate detto che noi abbiamo potere sulla manifestazione delle fate e che dipendono dai nostri desideri" Il vecchio sorrise "Quale schiavitù potrebbe desiderare un uomo? Quella del suo bicchiere o della sua regina?" La ragazza capì che quella storia celava una metafora di redenzione e umiltà. Avevano questo di disorientante, i racconti del vecchio: non sapevi mai dove finiva il simbolo e cominciava l'aneddoto. "Comunque quando lo trovarono Billy era ricoperto di punture dalla vita in su. Disse che sul suo petto si era tenuto il ballo della corte delle Rosa Spinae, in cui ogni damigella ha per tacco una spina di un fiore e per gonna i suoi petali, ma per molti era solo caduto su un campo di ortiche" "Che storia strana. Ma io non sarei mai schiava di una regina così perfida. Perchè non si è ribellato, mi chiedo?" commentò lei "Il cigno non pesa sul suo lago, la briglia non pesa al suo cavallo, né l'anima sull'uomo che la possiede" cantilenò l'uomo, facendo spallucce.

Quella notte scrisse una piccola nota in gaelico che lasciò davanti al davanzale. Diceva soltanto: "Voglio conoscervi. Venitemi a trovare", lasciò una zolletta di zucchero in dono. Si rigirava nel letto inquieta, nella speranza che il messaggio arrivasse a destinazione, e come spesso accade il sonno arrivò come un deliquio, senza preavviso. Si ritrovò in un luogo che non aveva mai visto prima d'ora. Una specie di antica cucina, senza finestre, mattoni rossi tutt'intorno, carta da parati di cartone con le sembianze di un giardino davano più respiro alla stanza. Fuori il rumore della pioggia era pesante e svuotato della sensazione di conforto che regala agli animi malinconici. Individuava negli oggetti della stanza una combinazione di cose minuscole. Le sedie erano piccoli cubetti di legno, appartenuti a qualche antico gioco. così come il tavolo. Non erano per nulla comodi, ma i pezzi di stoffa imbottita e cucita grossolanamente davano sollievo alla seduta. Uno specchietto da beauty asserviva alla funzione di vassoio sul quale erano poggiate tazzine che potevano provenire da un servizio da the in miniatura per bambole di porcellana, un pò sbeccato, ma grazioso a vedersi. La zolletta che aveva donato stava su un lato del ripiano di legno, con una specie di punteruolo conficcato al suo centro. La ragazza capì che era un sogno, ma aveva qualcosa di reale. "E' un sogno, questo?" "Certo, ragazzina" Rispose la voce di un uomo di mezza età dall'esterno. La porticina della cucina non era che un pezzo di serranda di ferro, l'uomo entrò con in mano dei legnetti rilegati e un secchiello d'acqua, avvolto in un impermeabile di tela. Poggiò l'occorrente a lato della porta, le sopracciglia cespugliose gli conferivano un'aria severa e le mani vissute, una saggezza artigianale. Appese l'insolito impermeabile sulla testa di un cavallo di scacchiera, che evidentemente fungeva da appendiabiti. La ragazza era paralizzata e si stringeva nella sua camicia da notte, non per il freddo, l'atmosfera era calda nonostante il rifugio sembrasse improvvisato, erano le pareti laterali di mattone ad emanare calore, ma avvertiva un senso di vulnerabilità che la faceva chiudere a riccio. L'uomo si premurò di accendere il fuoco in un buco del mattone e di riempire la teiera sospesa sul paiolo sostenuto da una corda e un ago, dalla capocchia ornata da una manigliuola. "Vieni più vicino alla luce del fuoco, ragazzina!" Aveva una voce roca e il tono presentava un cipiglio ingiustificato agli occhi di lei. "Si può sapere perchè mi trovo qui?" L'uomo la squadrò come a darle della matta, poi con un cenno del capo fece notare che la tavola era apparecchiata sul suo frammento di pergamena "Voglio conoscervi", riconobbe la ragazza. La sua scrittura. "Ma.. siete.. siete Tuvia?!" Dopo un attimo di silenzio, in cui l'uomo la fissava per cogliere in lei la sincerità della sua domanda, scoppiò in una fragorosa risata "AHAHAH Io? Quell'uccell di bosco di Tuvia!? Ho l'aria da piovano, io? Ti credevo sveglia ma se queste sono le premesse.." La ragazza non sembrava aver apprezzato l'umorismo dell'omino "Allora signore.. avete forse raccolto un messaggio non rivolto a voi!? Come vi permettete di interferire con la mia Corrispondenza!" "Corrispondenza? Senti dolcezza, cosa pensi che abbiamo il servizio postale in quel di Bluebell? Noi ai fogli d'albero diamo ben altro valore. Non lo sprechiamo per messaggi futili e sconsiderati." "Chi diavolo siete voi e che ci fate nei miei sogni?" "E' così che ci si incontra noi, la prima volta! Non accettiamo inviti dagli sconosciuti" La teiera cominciava a scoppiettare sul fuoco, le bolle di vapore avevano un aspetto cupolare e un suono più cupo del normale, dovevano essere quelle dimensioni a rendere ogni rumore anche il più familiare totalmente estraneo e inquietante. Nella stanza cominciò a diffondersi un odore di fiori che proveniva dall'infuso. "Come vi chiamate?" "Che razza di domanda è? Sono lo spirito protettore degli O'Reilly, quindi mi chiamo come loro" "Gli spiriti protettori portano il nome della famiglia?" Non rispose, sembrava un pò scocciato dalla retoricità delle domande, ma la ragazza aveva l'impressione che si sforzasse di essere gentile. Aveva messo in infusione una manciata di briciole di the e polline che raccoglieva da una bustina dilaniata come un sacchetto. Versò l'infusione nella tazzina che stava di fronte a lei. Staccò un paio di pezzi dalla zolletta per lei, sapeva persino come prendeva il the. "Ascolta ragazzina, noi spiriti della casa non parliamo più dello stretto necessario. Il nostro silenzio è la nostra invisibilità, quindi fammi andare al punto: Hai sentito cosa ha detto il buon vecchio O'Reilly stasera no? 'Non disturbare gli spiriti del bosco', lo ha detto per il tuo bene." Al sentirsi chiamare 'ragazzina' il tono della voce di lei si fece più risentito e squillante "Quindi oltre che profanatore di lettere, anche un origliatore maleducato" L'omino sospirò con enorme esercizio di pazienza "Non è come pensi.. non mi è possibile ignorare quello che succede entro queste mura, siamo nati dai sentimenti della famiglia che ha costruito questa casa. Se ti appaio in sogno è perchè questa famiglia si preoccupa per te" "il vostro sentimentalismo mi commuove" disse sarcasticamente, "ma sono pronta a scommettere che voi avete origliato per il semplice fatto che questo vostro rifugio si trova vicino al focolare" "Ti avverto ragazzina, non cercare di trovarlo, causeresti un dolore agli O'Reilly" "Dovevate pensarci prima di invitarmi qui, razza di stupido omino. E adesso datemi una buona ragione per cui questa 'ragazzina'" rimarcò la parola "non dovrebbe svegliarsi e venire a farvi fare la fine del topo" Sorseggiava la tazza di the adesso, fissando l'uomo con un sorriso imperioso, che non prometteva nulla di buono. "Ragioni? Se c'è qualcosa che so degli esseri umani è che la logica con voi non è persuasiva. Ho solo indicato la soglia da non varcare, ragazza mia, ma non era mia intenzione regalarvi la determinazione per attraversarla." "Il vostro consiglio non è richiesto" Incrociò le braccia. Calò un pò di gelo tra i due. Il sadismo giovanile di lei aveva fatto affiorare al viso del vecchio uno sguardo triste, leggermente rassegnato. "Come faccio a svegliarmi?" "Non ti preoccupare, presto sarai sul tuo letto, bambina. Voi avrete pur il controllo dei momenti di veglia, ma noi abbiamo la nostra rivincita nei sogni e sei fortunata che non abbiamo la vostra stessa crudeltà. Comunque.. se non posso dissuaderti, sarò il tuo messaggero e un giorno, forse, ti porterò da lui." disse quasi burbero "Quasta poi.. volevate sabotarmi e adesso vorreste anche farmi da guida" "La foresta di Bluebell si basa su un fragile equilibrio, il custode di quell'equilibrio, la Regina delle Rose, non ama l'invadenza umana, specie da una che le somiglia così tanto" "Io... somiglierei alla Regina?" Ignorò ancora quelle domande che avevano la stessa arguzia dell'eco di un pozzo. "Tuvia l'ha combattuta, sai.. la Corte delle Rose Spinae." "Quel cosino? Ma se è fragile come un filo d'erba. Scommetto che se mi stendessi in giardino, potrebbe diventare una macchia sul mio vestito. Se è così coraggioso, poi, perchè non è nella foresta a combattere?" "Lo vedi in giardino perchè è un esule e non conosce più la comodità di un confine. Si è consacrato alla pioggia, perchè si riconosce nelle nuvole. Una nuova regina.. questo lo salverebbe. E lui.. non vuole essere salvato!" Lo spirito degli O'Reilly con la tristezza si era fatto stranamente loquace, riconosceva qualcosa nel vecchio in lui, aveva la stessa dolcezza sotto una scorza dura che era più simile a quella della signora O'Reilly, uno strano mix. Elizabeth sorseggiò quell'infuso, stavolta godendone appieno l'aroma. Era come di tiglio. Avvertì che si stava agitando nel sonno. Non voleva svegliarsi proprio ora. Lo spirito degli O'Reilly la fissava e con un cenno del capo sembrò quasi accomiatarsi. Quando riaprì gli occhi sul suo letto, le ultime parole dello Spirito riecheggiavano ancora nelle sue orecchie riempiendola di non so quale speranza.. "Una nuova regina", si ripeteva. Poteva giurare di sentire ancora il sapore di tiglio sulla punta della lingua.

#fairy #sizeshifter #giantess #tiny #giant/tiny #male fairy #ireland #irlanda #gigantessa #g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #g/t fluff #g/t community #borrowers #g/t sfw #g/t story #g/t fantasy #gentle g/t

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

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Good Omens - “Plot Twist” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Embroiled in the aftermath of two very messy break-ups, Crowley and Aziraphale are preparing to film their first love scene together. But how do you pretend to be in love when your love life is falling apart?

It probably doesn't hurt to be in love with your co-star. (2318 words)

Notes: So I made the chauffeur young Shadwell, but patterned after young Michael McKean, who I was desperately in love with back in the day XD Human au, ineffable wives, mention of past Aziraphale/Gabriel, mostly just fluff

Read on AO3.

“Ooo, I get a limo this time. Fancy, fancy,” Crowley mumbles, not nearly as impressed as she’s pretending to be. She’d much rather drive herself in her own Bentley and in her own sweet arse time. But she needs to keep up appearances.

There are always two eyes and a camera lens on her at any given moment.

Even though it’s the literal buttcrack of dawn, she’s not alone. There are about thirty asshats, armed with cameras, camped out on her doorstep, climbing over each other to snap a candid of her for the gossip sites. A photo of her emerging from her rented townhouse fresh-faced and ready for another day on set will fetch an easy hundred pounds.

But if she looks like she rolled out of bed, drank a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, then fell down a flight of stairs, landing face-first onto a mountain of cocaine? Those pictures would fetch considerably more.

That’s what she gets for going through a horrendous break-up while having the nerve to be rich and famous.

She thought that when the production moved filming away from London and out to California, the buzz surrounding her personal affairs would die down. On the contrary. It seemed to get worse, in part because the states don’t have the same paparazzi laws the UK does.

She can’t sit down to take a proper shit without seeing a flash pop off.

Despite how she feels about her life at the moment, she went for class over crass. She shies away from hard drugs, and she can't justify looking less than her best, especially in public.

She refuses to let anyone see her sweat.

“Antonia! Antonia! Over here!” the pariahs beckon, some of them whistling for her attention like she’s a dog. “Antonia! Hey, Crowley!”

Crowley.

That’s the one that gets to her - burrows into the roots of her teeth and makes her head pulsate with rage. It keeps her feet moving when she might have stopped to exchange a polite hello, given out an autograph. And the sick thing is these vultures probably realize that.

That’s why they keep doing it.

Who talks to people like that? When did it become acceptable to bellow out someone’s last name as a means of getting their attention? Is it too much to ask for them to shove a ‘Mrs.’ in front of it? Have these glorified stalkers forgotten that, if it weren’t for her and stars like her, the only jobs they could get would be snapping photos of families at Legoland for minimum wage?

Ugh.

Too much thinking too early in the morning.

She could write an entire essay on how much she loathes pap culture, but today, she can’t be bothered caring.

She’s filming one of the most anticipated scenes of her whole career on one of the worst days of her life.

That’s the hurdle she needs to focus on.

She slaps on a smile and waves, sliding her glasses down her nose only far enough so they can’t see how red her eyes have gotten from crying.

“Oh, ‘ello, loves! I didn’t see you all here! So nice of you to greet me at 5:30 on this fine winter morning! Oh, careful there. You spilled your coffee. And I think you just kicked that poor lad in the face. You wanna give him a hand up there? He’s bleedin’ all over the pavement.”

Crowley greets her guests this way every morning, killing them with kindness, as subtle an eff you as she can come up with when her brain cells have yet to kick in for the day.

Coffee. She needs coffee. About a gallon-and-a-half of it.

And a shot of bourbon might be nice.

Crowley glides through the crowd, an angelfish among sharks, and comes out unscathed.

A man with brown hair, pale skin, and striking blue eyes, wearing a fitted, black uniform tailored to within an inch of its life, opens the car door for her as she approaches.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crowley."

“Good morning, Mr. Shadwell. It's nice to see you.” Crowley slides into the car, thankful when the chauffeur shuts the door. She sinks into the leather seat and tosses her sunglasses aside. “God!" she moans, burying her face in her hands. "I don't want to do this! I want to stay home, eat ice cream, and drink tremendous amounts of alcohol! I definitely don’t want to be snogging anyone today!”

Aziraphale, who had been waiting patiently with a small box of assorted cookies and wearing a sympathetic smile, frowns. “Wow. Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley's head snaps up, her face splotchy, and red enough to rival her hair in seconds. “Aziraphale! I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were …! That’s not what I meant!" She takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. "It's not you, angel. I swear it isn’t. I just don’t feel particularly romantic today.”

“It’s all right. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

Crowley squares Aziraphale with a stern look. “Wow. Thank you.”

Aziraphale ducks her eyes, her cheeks turning pink as she offers Crowley a cookie from the box. She wonders if Aziraphale made them herself. She often does bake to pass the time. So much so that she's become quite good at it.

Life hasn’t been treating her too kindly, either.

The cookies are delicate little things, intricately frosted in red, green, and white, decorated as bells and angels and snowflakes in honor of Christmas.

Because it’s Christmas.

Crowley is having the worst day of her life a week before Christmas.

Sigh.

There is usually champagne, no matter what vehicle the studio sends to pick them up. She wonders where it’s gone, searching about for it. Crowley and Aziraphale rarely avail themselves to it, preferring to wait till after the shooting day is done to have a nightcap.

But today, it feels like a necessity.

Leave it to the studio to not provide them a bottle of bubbly on the one day Crowley longs to drown in it.

“I didn’t know Shadwell was picking you up first,” Crowley says, starting small talk to ease the tension. Crowley and Aziraphale don’t usually have trouble making small talk.

Today is an exception.

“Well ...” Aziraphale clears embarrassment from her throat “... I was just … you know … a few blocks down the way.”

Crowley sits up further, leans forward with interest. “So you did it. You left him. You left Gabriel.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies quietly. “I couldn’t stay. Not after …” She stops and sniffles, turning her head to hide eyes that must be as red as Crowley’s. Crowley doesn’t know.

She only ever notices how incredible they are.

Crowley rests a comforting hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “I know.”

“Yeah,” Aziraphale says with a slightly bitter laugh. “So does the whole world. In fact, the photogs knew I was leaving before I knew. You should have seen it. I could barely get past them.”

Crowley pulls a box of tissues out of the side panel and offers her co-star one. “They’re bottom feeders. The lot of them. Try to ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Crowley repeats, feeling exceptionally useless. She’s in the exact same boat, but her heart hurts more for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale doesn’t deserve what she's going through. She doesn’t deserve such a public break-up.

She doesn’t deserve having her name drug all over social media by an emotionally manipulative bastard who thinks he's God's gift.

Crowley gazes out the window at the sky above. The forecast said it would be clear and sunny today, but it’s cloudy and grey. It matches Crowley's mood. Everything is cloudy and grey.

Well, maybe not everything.

The cookie she's eating isn’t. It’s sweet and crisp and melts in her mouth. It puts a smile on her face.

That helps.

Aziraphale helps, too.

Even gloomy, melancholy Aziraphale helps.

Just being in Aziraphale's presence helps.

“Living in the public eye isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, though it sounds as much like a statement to herself as a question for Crowley.

“Not on days like today. But that’s the trade-off for being a star, I suppose.”

“Would you ever give it up?” Aziraphale asks, taking a nibble of her Madeleine.

“I can’t say I would. You?”

“Nnnn ... no."

"There isn't anything else you wanted to do?" Crowley asks, latching on to her hesitation. "Not even when you were younger?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale bobs her head back and forth. "To be honest, I have always wanted to own my own bookshop. Or perhaps work in a library. But that's only if acting didn't work out. Acting has given me so many opportunities I could never have dreamed of. And all the great people I've met? I mean, this is what? The fifth film we’ve starred in together?”

“It is."

Aziraphale chuckles. "Some of them have been real winners."

"I know! The roles you get offered when you're just starting out are criminal! Let’s see, we’ve been rogue enemy agents from different factions …”

“High school frenemies …”

“Alien co-conspirators …”

“Jealous rivals …”

“And now … lovers.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says bashfully. “And today …”

Crowley smiles. “We get together for the first time.”

Hearing Crowley say it makes Aziraphale’s heart race, her pulse thrumming so fast it disappears.

The day Aziraphale found out she’d gotten the role of Crowley’s love interest and not the ‘jealous ex’ (the role her agent originally pitched for her since they play adversaries so well) was a dream come true. The studio felt the two of them could take their insane sexual tension (the studio's words, not Aziraphale's, although she doesn't disagree) and use it to fuel the plot of their latest 'friends-to-lovers' rom-com.

Aziraphale has always wanted to be a leading lady. Deep down, she prayed that her first time, she'd play opposite Crowley. Now that it has finally happened, the role of her dreams comes with the greatest perk in the universe - an intimate moment with Antonia.

In front of about three dozen crew members, but still.

It's Aziraphale's chance to indulge her crush, which she plans to savor since it may not come around again.

Not in the way Aziraphale wants.

As friendly as Crowley is to her, as flirty as she can be, Aziraphale doesn't know for sure whether Crowley shares her feelings.

“If you don't mind my asking, when did she tell you?” Aziraphale asks.

“She didn’t." Crowley snorts humorlessly. "I woke up, and she was gone. I thought she had left for work. She had a table reading at six that morning, so I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Not until I started noticing important things were missing - clothes, toiletries, her contact lenses, her laptop …”

"Did she tell you why she was leaving?"

Crowley chews her lower lip at the question she'd known was coming ... the answer she's debating whether or not to give. "Eventually." She glances up at Aziraphale, flashes a sly grin, and decides to go for broke. “She left because she thought I was falling in love with my co-star.”

"Really?" And just like that, Aziraphale dies, her heart shrinking into nothing and blowing away on the wind. "W-which one?" she asks, solely for conversation's sake.

This time, when Crowley snorts, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying crumbs all over the interior of the limo, it's genuine. "You, you gumball!"

"Oh. Oh!" Aziraphale’s expression of shock is so endearing, Crowley can’t look at it too long. There's a glow about her. It's like staring into the sun. “That's ... that’s funny. Gabriel broke up with me for the same reason. Because of ... you. At least, that's the excuse he gave on Twitter ... and Instagram ... and Facebook.” Aziraphale's glow dims as she talks about her ex. Their relationship, and separation, weren’t as civil as Crowley’s. In reality, trouble had been brewing behind the scenes for a while.

She’s glad they finally went their separate ways, but it stings just the same, finding out that someone you once loved, who you thought loved you back, just wanted someone to push around. To control.

"That is funny. Not funny ha-ha. Just ... funny. Who would have thunk?" Crowley goes back to her cookie, taking small bites while keeping an eye on Aziraphale.

Aziraphale glances out the window as the limo slows, approaching the gates to the studio lot. Crowley doesn't follow Aziraphale's gaze.

She doesn't need to.

She knows what Aziraphale sees by the way her face falls.

Aziraphale had hoped they could slip in quietly, but there's already a mob three feet deep waiting for them. The photographers and fans won't be able to see a thing through the car's windows. The tint on them is darker than dark. Still, the whole lot will be on high alert with them here.

Inevitably, a handful will slip in.

They may even find their way on set.

Aziraphale doesn't have the energy to deal with that.

Not today.

“How are we going to get through it?" Aziraphale asks. "Filming this scene? The timing is ... uncanny, to say the least.”

“Think of it this way …” Crowley slides across to Aziraphale’s side, sits as close as they're both comfortable with. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, Crowley draws Aziraphale's attention away from the gathering crowd and over to her eyes instead “… we get to spend the entire afternoon making each other feel better. That's how we're going to get through this. Agreed?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lower, flicker to Crowley's lips unintentionally. When they travel back up, she notices Crowley's eyes do the same. She swallows hard. At this distance from Crowley, from her mouth, Aziraphale only has the wherewithal to say one word. She makes it count. "Agreed."

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable wives #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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