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forestshadow-wolf · 4 months ago

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Soap having to emergency fill in for a demo guy on a mission. He wasn't on demo for this one, he was needed on sniper along with Ghost and Gaz to cover price and the ground team and demo team he was leading. The goal was the blow the entire location skyhigh, but it wouldn't be an easy job. Not with the high amount of enemy soldiers, or the sheer mass and density of the building making it so that they would need to plant charges from the inside as well as the outside.

The demo guy goes down inside while soap, gaz, and ghost can't see them. They'd been keeping the outside backup at bay when price's voice fed through the radio.

"Soap. Our demo guy is KIA, need you down here NOW!"

"Aye, Sir. On my way." The urgency in the man's voice told him that they were running low on time (not that he didn't already know that. He was counting seconds. Always was.) He abandoned his sniper with little fineness, Ghost or Gaz would get it for him.

Ghost and Gaz covered him on his way down. He shucked his gloves on the way, throwing them carelessly to the ground, didn't bother going for cover, they were on a very real time limit with the fixed timer on the charges. It wasn't an ideal situation, and ordinarily they wouldn't have such a thing, but just the night before they'd caught someone tampering with the explosives. It had fucked up the wiring, and the closest to good they he could fix it was a fixed timer because he couldn't get them to communicate with the detonator anymore.

The actual inside of the building was large. Much more winding and dense than breifing said it would be. That was a problem. A big, huge, major problem. Because now they didn't have enough power to blow it all.

And it turns out to be an even bigger problem because when he got to price he realizes that the amount of explosives they had brought wasn't going to be enough in the first place.

"Shit." He hadn't been included in the demo planning, it hadn't been necessary. But now he sees that it was, because whatever calculations had been done were wrong. Even being off by .01 of anything was near fatal with the stuff they were working with.

"What? What's wrong?" Price was even more urgent now.

"There's not enough." He said, setting the first one he picked up, it was further from the last one that had been set before him than he'd have liked.

"Can you make it work?" Price says in, what soap always called, his captain voice. Soap pauses for a moment after that, running mental calculations.

"Maybe?" He wasn't entirely confident to be completely honest, "we'd have to go back and re-do all the ones that have already been set." He curses internally, mentally smiting whoever didn't include him in the demo meeting.

Price sent a soldier off to go collect the set charges, but soap only let them off with very clear instructions on how to do so.

Soap sent price and the rest of the soldiers off without him to finish collecting the data they had been looking for. He worked in silence for a while. If he was lucky (he doubts), it the soldier that price sent off came back with more charges than soap expected, he would be able to just barely make it stretch.

He wasn't so lucky. He sent the soldier after price. He flipped his radio on.

"Ghost, go to channel 2." He switches his own radio to channel 2.

"You solid, Johnny?"

"There's not enough." He was not panicking. Soap doesn't panic. And definitely not on the field. If he did it would be in the dead of night where nobody could find him.

"What's not?" Ghost was calm, solid as a rock. Soap liked that, won't deny needing a win, even if it was as small as Ghost being his normal self.

"Charges." He moves up the hall to work on the next one, "whoever did the calculations did a bang up job, there's barely enough to stretch from the original plan, and the inside is a lot bigger than we thought. Fucking bullshit."

"You weren't workin' with demo on this?" Ghost sounded confused, "I was given an optional attendance." Ah, that explained it. And- GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT.

"Nae. At this point it seems more like a big fuckin' joke that I'm nae in on, than it does a tactical operation." Soap was seething, it was like the gods had something personal against him, but he kept his head.

"Seems like they all hate you, Johnny." Ghost hummed cheekily. Soap couldn't help the chuckle he let out. Leave it up to Ghost to still be a bastard despite it all.

"Awh, c'mon, L.T. you'd never let them all hate me now would ya?"

"Well, I don't completely hate you if it make you feel better." He could hear Ghost's smirk even through the radio.

"Aye, sir, gets me all warm and fuzzy inside, I'll buy you a drink to keep in your good graces after this."

"Assuming you live."

"Assuming I live." Soap parroted

"Can you make it work?"

"No. Not unless you've got some secret magic powers I dinnae know about, sir." He grumbled.

"Not for you, sergeant." Ghost told him. Bastard.

"Bastard." He huffed, amused.

"You still workin' on it?"

"Aye, I'm gonna blow the supports. If it goes right- better hope that it does- it'll bring the whole top crashin' down." He imitated the well-loved sound of the boom and crash he was hoping for, "if the brass wants it gone though, they'll have to send someone back. Hopefully someone competent this time." He was already halfway through the charges, and that was with a generous amount of spacing that he didn't like too much, but it would do, he had to get around to the other side of the building. He glanced at the timer, seven minutesticking down, he'd have to move fast if he wanted to get out in time, his thumb flipped his comms unit to channel the main channel.

"Price, keep an eye on the time." They all had their watches set to the timer so they could keep track. He switched back to channel 2 as soon as he got an affirmative. "Ghost, mind me at the two minute mark, aye?"

"Copy that." Came the steady manc accented response.

"Ya'know what's on my bucket list, L.T.?"

"What?"

"One day I want an OP that goes smooth start to finish."

"A steep ask."

"I felt inspired." He could hear the shrug in his own voice, and there was a breathy laugh in his ear.

Usually he's excellent at keeping track of his time, but this time he was still running minor calculations to every charge he set, making sure they were in the best spot possible. Which meant that when Ghost interrupted his mutterings with a tense "two minutes, Sargeant.", he had only just started on the last quarter of the explosives he had left.

"Shit." He chewed on his lip, using precious seconds to think. He could see the stairs to the exit at the end of the hallway, maybe 200 yards away, but there was still had 6 charges left. Fuckit, no more time for thinking, his gut's never let him down so far, he trusts that it won't this time either. "You see Price? Is he out?"

He wired the charge in his hands in two paces, placed it in six, started on the next.

"Negative. I've got no visual. I need you out of that building, now, Johnny." Ghost went silent after that, but soap was too busy to worry about that.

Shit.

He was almost halfway down the hall when he placed the next charge. Three charges left. The next charge went on in seven paces. The last two went up on either side of the stairs. His lungs burned as he took the steps two at a time. A glance at his watch showed 48 seconds left. The stairs seemed to go on forever. He would not be making it to a safe distance, he'd be lucky to get out of the building.

"I've got Price, Need eyes on you, now." Ghost sounded in his ear. He had not enough air in his lungs to respond, squeezing every cell of blood of its oxygen to keep himself moving.

10 seconds, he could see the door, it was big, and green, and had one of those push bar handles.

9 seconds, his foot slipped, his knee met the unforgiving corner of concrete, and his ankle twisted.

8 seconds, he caught himself.

7 seconds, pain lit up in his ankle. He kept going

6 seconds, he'd halved the distance to the door

5, he could see himself reaching the door already

4, he had an arm out to catch the push bar

3, he made contact

2, fresh air hit his face

1, he was running. It was like every molecule knew what was coming, like every building block of space was waiting for it. He could feel the charge it in every fiber of his being.

0, he dove for the ground, tucking himself in, harms coming up over his head. He didn't even feel it before it all slammed into him like a freight train. But he knew it was coming, knew it like a sixth sense, knew it like knowing the sky was blue without even looking up.

His ears rang. He hadn't realized before. The ringing in his ears was intense, almost overwhelming. Every thing hurt when he uncurled. His fands were stiff whe he flexed them, it looked like he was piloting a robot instead of his own body, he felt it all but from a distance. The world was bathed in gray. His mouth was dry, it tasted bitter as he smacked his lips together.

Something...

There was something... wrong? Or- he needed to do something? He flexed his fingers again. The world looked frozen. Like even the trees were looking at him, whispering that he was dead. Maybe he was, he couldn't be sure. Uncoordinated movements managed to wobble himself to standing. His back. Something on his back. It hurt. But he couldn't feel it. A hand went to his throbbing, and he stumbled a few step before he collapsed. He was tired. He was breathing but he couldn't feel it in his lungs, knew his chest was moving with it though. Maybe he wasn't breathing. He couldn't feel it. He should breathe, he focused on that. But he was so tired. Maybe too tired. Maybe he didn't need to breathe all that bad. He could just.. he was.. everything hurt. He wasn't breathing, except for his moving chest. It's okay. He'll just.. close his eyes. He'll try breathing again when he woke up again. When everything hurt less. It'll hurt less.

---

It didn't hurt less when he woke up again. It hurt more. A lot more actually. He felt his mouth open with out his command, sound left but he didn't hear it. And he couldn't tell if the incessant, ear-blinding ringing was him or if the world around him had gobe silent in lieu of the ringing.

It was a moment before he realized his eyes were open. The world was still covered in gray powder. Ghost's mask comes into view, it moves like he's speaking, but he's not making any sound. Soap thinks about telling him as much, to turn on his voice, but the world hurts, or maybe he hurts, and either way, it's easier to just close his eyes.

---

A hand smacks his face, he see brown eyes first, gaz's mouth is moving.

A glimpse of green rushing past, but black invades and he lets it happen.

The next thing he blinks and there's white, swishing, lots of it. Coats he realizes. Doctor's. A lot of them. He turns his head, it saps his strength, and the last thing he sees before his eyes close are mouths moving in muted shouts.

He blinks again and he's greeted with blinding white. He's moving. Not with his own two legs. It's fast. It makes him sick. He feels frantic hands on him and then his mouth opens, he feels contents leave him. And then he's being rolled back over. It's too much. He welcomes the dark of unconsciousness again.

---

He wakes slowly, there's a thin stream of air that chills his nose, he can feel cords on him but it would take more effort than it's worth to rip them off, uncomfortable as they were. So a hospital. If it wasn't obvious that was here he was, then it could be the plastic guard rails, or that he could see the edge of a very hospital-esq desk right outside the cracked open hospital-esq door where white flourenscent hospital-esq light leaked through.

It's dark when he opens his eyes. Not terribly so, there's a window that lets in moonlight, but dark enough that his eyes don't burn. There's a figure in the corner of his eye, and when he turns it's Ghost. Slumped down, arms crossed, sleeping. He's wearing one of the balaclavas with the narly faded skull, and the eye black he usually wears looks rubbed off, but not washed off, he can still see evidence of its remains. He looks tired, sporting a twin pair of eye bags the size of a small island, and the line of his shoulders is tenser than usual. He wonders when he got familiar enough with the man to notice his "regular tenseness", but he doesn't dwell.

His throat itches with dryness like he's swallowed a bunch of cotton balls. He's fairly certain he did not do that. There's a glass of what looks like water (or some mysterious other clear liquid) on the swinging side table, he reaches for it, but his movements are uncoordinated, limbs reluctant to listen to his demands. His hand swings a little too far and it knocks the glass to the floor. He watches it shatter, cringing in anticipation of the loud sound, but the sound is muted and far away, like he's listening through a pane of plexiglass. Ghost shoots up in a panic, looking for the danger. He does a quick double take when he sees soap's eyes open, then he notices the shattered reamins of his would-be drink.

Soap can only give him an apologetic look for disturbing his sleep that he looked like he desperately needed. Ghost walks over to him, and it looks like he's talking, but it sounds muffled, again like listening through plexiglass, or like he poured thick ink into his ears. That's not good. He can feel his mouth split into a displeased look. This is very not good. Bad, even.

Ghost leans over him, one of his big hands rests on his chest, he puts a little pressure then lets off. He does it again. And again. In a steady rhythm that soap can't help but follow.

A nurse walks in, and Ghost backs off leaving soap feel a little unteathered, but he's nolonger panicking. The nurse talks but everything is underwater, and someone's poured glue in his ears. He can't help the nervous look at ghost while the nurse keeps on, ghost holds his gaze steady. And then she's gone.

Ghost tries to speak, then he pauses, holds up a finger as if to tell him to wait, and then slips out of the room.

Great. Absolutely perfect. He's gone deaf. Well, that definitely seems like that would be the sort of thing that gets labled as "career ending", a cateer that he was damn good at. Did they even complete the mission he was on? He didn't even know if it was a success. Or even if he'd gotten any one killed. He hoped not. And to top it all off, Ghost had gone. He rationalized that Ghost had clearly meant that he was coming back. And when he did, he'd explain everything. It would be fine. So fine. Completely fine. Aside from the fact that he's probably kicked from the military.

Ghost slipped back into the room, carrying a small whiteboard, and a marker. He'd wrote something on it before turning it to face soap. It was nothing long, just two words. Quick and lethal. "Burst eardrums" oh...

"Recovery?" He felt the words in his chest when he said them, but he wasn't sure how loud he was being.

"Full recovery. Few weeks" he wrote. Soap found he likes the way he wrote. It was a simple scribble.

"The mission?"

"Success. Few casualties. Demo was KIA. Few others"

It was a bitter win, but it was often best not to dwell on it.

"You look like you got run over by a minivan three times." He says with a cheeky smile. One that always gets him a long-suffering sigh. One that he could see but not hear this time.

"Not the one in the bed." Ghost scribbled, and gave him a pointed look. It only served to make his smile toothier before a yawn broke it. Either exhaustion, or pain medication, or a combination of the two wanted to make him sleep, and he wasn't inclined to agree until ghost pushed him down gently, and scribbled "sleep" in black ink.

The morning after was better. Still inky and underwater, but less panicked. Ghost had stayed as well. Gave him a long list of injuries ontop of his missing hearing.

By the end of the week his hearing had improved a bit, words no longer blended into a blur of tv static. And he's told by Ghost that the doctor said it looked like he'd be back a full hearing in the next three weeks or so.

The second week was when the boredom really hit. It he concentrated hard enough he could parse out syllables, some distinct sounds. Nothing very quiet. But the world made sound again. And he'd taken to pestering ghost to wheeling him around the halls since he wasn't allowed to leave. Not until his hearing was back, and he started on PT.

The third week wqs much the same, aside from starting physical therapy. PT sessions weren'tanythingnew to any of them, but it was always a pain in the ass. But the fourth week, he had full sign off that his hearing was back up to 100%, and he's successfully made good progress on his PT sessions, so he was getting discharged, and sent home on medical leave.

Apparently Ghost had followed right behind him, taking leave of his own. And he declared that he was taking soap to his own flat. Soap didn't much and to protest, but he did to hear the amused tone in Ghost's voice when he bickered with the man.

#might post it to ao3 depending on the word count when I check #but who knows #I'd have to clean it up a bit tho #give it a proper beginning #el rambles #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #john mactavish #simon riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty #cod #cod mw2

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sugoi-writes · 5 months ago

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Can I get some fluff of Alastor finding reader listening to old jazz songs from when he was alive and he makes us dance with him? :)

It's Been a While... (Alastor x GN! Reader)

Ahaha, I need more work on fluff, I hope you like it! There is SOME mentions of risque activites, but it's super brief, and nothing insanely explicit! Promise! I was honestly just writing to write, and figured this little blurb that fell out of me would be fitting enough. UNO REVERSE... We get ALASTOR to dance! Fuck yes!!!

Songs mentioned: In The Mood - Glenn Miller / Sing, Sing, Sing - Benny Goodman (both are bops I used to play when I was in jazz band houhosjknskhdj-- SURPRISE, you also get Danny Lore as a treato!)

Alastor's tense, heavy sigh sounds in the air, prompting you to crane your head up. You took in his disheveled state and instantly knew: he was exhausted. You stood from your plush armchair, abandoning it to walk toward his desk.

"Alastor?" was all that was needed for his flattened ears to perk up. Your sweet voice was a much needed comfort during a particularly grueling evening.

"Yes, dearest?" he replied, his smile hardly an upturned slit. You come up behind him slowly, waiting for his permission to touch. Alastor looks back to your hovering hands, and nods gingerly. He returns to facing his desk, allowing his eyes to lose focus as he zones out. When your arms wrap around his neck, his shoulders slump heavily, a pleased hum vibrating his chest. You smiled sweetly at the sound, a welcome pleasantry as you kissed his cheek.

"You're getting frustrated again, my love..." you pipe up, continuing to pepper his cheek with chaste, innocent kisses. Your lover laughs bitterly, but leans into your musings all the same.

"Well, I suppose you're right... leave it to my sweet, observant partner to know what's wrong... and when," he adds, a tired hand reaching up to rub slow circles into one of your arms. You grin against his cheek, your kisses slowing," I may also have a solution to your problem, if you'll hear me out~"

Alastor hums in approval, grasping both of your hands when you continue to pamper him with sweet, physical adoration.

"Dear, you are nothing if not full of brilliant ideas... I would love to hear them out," he muses, turning his head to plant a singular, sincere kiss to your lips. You were giddy at the affection, but capped your glee. You tugged on his hands, eager to make your little plan work.

"Come on, come on... you'll have to get up for this one," you quip, forcing a dramatic sigh from your partner. Alastor throws his head back, laying it on your shoulder like an ill peasant woman. He would fan his face weakly, had your hands not been so warm.

"My love, I have been stricken, and cannot get up~ Won't you let an old man rest?" he fired back. But truly, had you asked: he would happily jump into acid rain with nothing more than his dignity.

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, smirking," You? Old? I wouldn't figure... No, you old geezer, I need you to stand so we can use your legs. They're very important for what I want to do." Alastor blinked, gears turning in his mind. Only with you would his mind wander to dirtier, carnal ideas.

"Dear, if I had wanted to do that tonight, I'm afraid your back would've already been bent out of shape--"

"Oh for Fucks Sake, Alastor--" you cackled, tugging on him with more insistence.

" Come oooonnnnn, please~? It's one of your favorites, I promise! Nothing dirty, no tricks!" Alastor's interest is instantly piqued, resulting in an immediate hop up. Even with his motion, his hands were still in yours. You huff, exacerbated but grateful you didn’t have to lift him yourself.

"Ahh, if you would have led with that, I may've been more urgent to attend to you, dear," Alastor chuckles, not missing the flush that flashed across your cheeks. You pull away from Alastor long enough to turn on the radio, flicking through several frequencies and stations to find just the right channel. Alastor watches you in amusement, arms crossing in front of his chest. He was more than content to watch you struggle, shifting his weight onto one foot.

"Well, I have to keep some of the suspense, don't I?" you replied, grinning at him in a way that made Alastor's black heart beat wildly. He did quite enjoy your mischievous nature... But your attempts to work his radio almost had him pitying you... Almost.

He scooted in behind you, resting his crossed arms over the top of your head," You could request a song, you know... I don't mind putting on something you enjoy--"

"I'd rather it be something we’d both enjoy," you interject, huffing as you became an armrest for your demonic partner. Once you found the right channel, you swiveled under Alastor's arms to face him. Then, you reach up to hold his elbows, shaking them around playfully.

"Alright, sir... It's been a long, long time since we've done this... I want to do this properly."

Alastor relents, allowing you to push his arms off of your head. He tilts his own toward you, expressing confusion. In that moment, he finally hones in on the song itself. In The Mood, popularized and recorded by Glenn Miller. It was one of the few songs that came to mind when you thought of "Alastor's Time" in the 30s. Said demon blinks in surprise, grinning. He had listened to this recording a bit after coming to hell, and was particularly fond of it. Ahh, you had picked the perfect station!

"Glenn Miller? Oh, you spoil me, love," Alastor coos, caressing your face as he kisses your forehead," Whatever did I do to deserve this?"

You sway your hips, bouncing in place to the tempo with the old tune," I know the recording's after your time... but-- He's just-- GOOD, y'know?" You bite your lip as you pull Alastor's hands off of your face," Now come on, Al... let's dance!" What a perfect distraction to break his tension and troubled mind! Alastor just knew he would enjoy your little idea...

His hands settle on you, both lightly caging your hips as yours held onto his wide shoulders. As the main motif began, the both of you started bopping along to the music. You watched Alastor's face morph fully into a relaxed state; smile still present, but much softer than his manic glee. You had to use every fiber in your being not to kiss him in that instant, instead squeezing his shoulders. Alastor's ears twitch as you draw soothing circles into his tense muscles, a shudder being torn from his entire frame.

"Relax, Alastor... I want you to forget about everything, except for this...," you coo, making him sigh with acceptance. He came close to you, flushing your bodies together in a tight, intimate sway. You could only sigh as he settled his chin onto the top of your head.

"Oh darling, if I relaxed anymore, I would be putty in your hands...," Alastor chimes, the tail end of his sentence wandering off as you press harder. Alastor huffs pleasantly, his hands holding your hips more firmly," Sweetheart, you really will be my undoing..."

You chuckle as you settle your hands, allowing Alastor a moment of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders, one hand seeking to grasp your opposite hand. Once he drew your arm out with his, his other hand shifted to the small of your back. You saw him grinning, playful and energetic," If it's a dance you want, then it had better be a good one, hmm? So let's jive~"

You squealed as Alastor practically whisked you off of your feet, spinning the both of you elegantly around his bedroom. The sounds of cicadas and frogs croaking in the distant, swampy marsh of his extended bedroom accompanied the sweet jazz that filled the air. Truly, it was tying everything together seamlessly. You had it all: a nice scene, nice music, and a relaxed, precious beau to spend all night with. You would have patted yourself on the back, were it not for Alastor's telltale sign of a 'big dip' move. You looped both arms around his neck, hanging on as Alastor swung you down, his monocle threatening to slip off his face. You laughed as you casually adjusted it. You stared, enthralled as you lay your hand over his racing pulse. However, the moment didn’t last long before you were brought back to your feet. But you thought now would be the best time to be a bit closer…

Getting bolder now, you pulled Alastor in for a kiss via his bowtie, eager to finish the dance off strong. Alastor, of course, had no protests, as he looped his arms around your waist. The two of you embraced like this for what felt like an hour, unable to pull apart your mingling, eager lips. But, with the song ended, leaving you both in silence, you managed to pull away. You looked up to Alastor with knowing eyes, your smile reflected in his deep, red irises.

"I loved that, Alastor, thank you... And I hope you don't mind me whisking you away from work..."

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes, an imitation of your look from earlier. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, his lips still puffy from your kiss," My love, you must whisk me away more often... In fact, I think I'd like another dance, if you'll join me?" Of course, you agreed silently, stepping on to the very tips of your toes to seal it with a kiss.

"I'd love nothing more."

Alastor grins with a deep chuckle, the radio pumping out a new song. Sing, Sing, Sing, popularized by Benny Goodman. You blink in surprise as this number moves... MUCH faster. And, from the sound of it, it will get you to sweat. You laughed nervously as Alastor brought you in again, his hand directing your hips to sway with his. You couldn’t help but become a little flustered as he closed the gap between your bodies, a playful, coy smile sent your way.

"Hold on tight, love. Some recordings of this song could last up to ten minutes~"

"WHAT--"

Alastor practically cackled as you trapped yourself within a saucy dance, one of many that would fill your evening with sweat, laughter, and best of all: an Alastor whose smile finally reached his eyes.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x oc #gn! reader #as an enby I feel like I did a much better job being ambiguous here #fluff #alastor fluff #alastor imagines #alastor fanfic #Im so rusty what are tags ahahaha #I also had no idea if GN! Reader was OKAAAAAAY but I hope so!#sorry I take so damn long these days gduohssishgkhsj #hugs and kisses dearie

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vulnerary-prince · 7 days ago

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From Harvard ethics professor Christopher Robichaud:

“Everyone in the days and weeks ahead will use this loss as an opportunity to seek validation for their own hobby horse complaint. Harris lost because she campaigned with Liz Cheney. Harris lost because she didn't embrace Gaza. Harris lost because she didn't choose Shapiro. Harris lost because she wasn't progressive enough (possibly my favorite one).

Take a good hard look at the map, my friends. Trump has won the popular vote. Trump ran the table. Explaining that with your hobby horse issue isn't going to cut it, tempting and consoling as it may be.

The problem isn't the electoral college. The problem isn't that we didn't have a full primary. The problem isn't Harris. The problem isn't that Dems didn't have the right message. The problem isn't even inflation or the border.

The problem is so much worse than any of those things. Those are all technical problems, with straightforward expertise fixes. If only it were so! No, our problem is not technical. It's very much adaptive. A party that embraced the Big Lie, supported an insurrection, and has been selling conspiracy-addled madness for years was widely and enthusiastically embraced. Voter turnout was profound! People didn't sit this out.

Simply put, the problem--as some of you have rightly posted--is cultural.

America, culturally, has completely abandoned a politics of decency and respect and has embraced instead a politics of resentment, revenge, false nostalgia, and bullying. And if you look at the demographics, you also won't be able to comfort yourself that it's just a white thing, or a working class thing, or an education thing. It's multi-class, multi-gender, multi-educational and multi-racial. That's what winning the popular vote means. That's what running the table amounts to.

A culture that has descended to this level of debasement is not easily fixed. In fact it may not ever be fixed. The timeline for changing something like this is decades--at best--not two-to-four year election cycles. You can extend that in this case, because with the GOP likely controlling all branches of federal government and the courts, they will ensure that mechanisms are in place to keep them in power long after their popularity has waned. You can count on that.

The GOP evolved into a party of rage, lies, and revenge--and it correctly diagnosed that there was and is a large appetite for that. That's what the country wants. At least, enough of the country wants it to ensure broad appeal and widespread electoral success. The old GOP will never return, and the Dems have nothing to say to American culture at the moment. Nothing. They've been speaking to a country that's gone, like dust in the wind.

And that's my final thought, which my posts last night alluded to. The America I knew and loved is gone. This new America--nah, I won't even bother. I will say that cultural change is less likely to occur in politics, or in the academy. You're not going to get people to see how vulgar they've become through a clever argument or a nice campaign speech, that's for sure.

This would be time for the arts, broadly understood, to step in. The arts can change hearts and minds. Too bad the arts have been systematically dismantled in education in this country, and on the other end, the tech industry's assault on the arts through AI is sure to hollow out any good-faith efforts that might emerge.

And for the rest of the world, America's rightward lurch is, I'm afraid, bad news for you too. I know you know this. Because it's not isolated, is it? It's just at the moment the most prominent example of a burgeoning trend. And this will embolden others in other countries, to be sure. We need not speculate what happens when countries become mired in lies, embrace resentment, and savor bullying. We know exactly what happens. Bloody conflict and global destabilization.

The first quarter of the 21st century will therefore in hindsight be viewed as the seed-planting stage for the absolute shit show that's about to unfold globally over the next two and a half decades. Count on it.

Adopt whatever coping and endurance strategies you have available. You're going to need it.

I think that's all I've left to say.”

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sp0o0kylights · 2 years ago

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8: 15 in the morning and Eddie was frantically flying around the trailer while Steve and Wayne both read the paper.

"I can't find my fucking wallet!" Eddie cursed, patting his pockets madly.

"It's on the shelf, by the Garfield mug." Steve said, not even looking up.

Eddie's gaze flicked up, and with a hissed victorious "Yes!" He snatched his wallet up.

He hustled about some more, long legs looping from the kitchen, to the bedroom and back.

"I can't find my damn jacket either!" He said, panicked and pulling at his hair in frustration.

"Its underneath the bed." Steve said, loud enough for Eddie to hear him as the metalhead charged back into his room.

He burst back out a second later, one arm in his jacket, struggling to get the other in.

"I swear I made coffee this morning-" He snarled, hopping in an attempt to make his jacket behave.

"Bathroom counter." Steve replied, flipping his newspaper to the next page.

Eddie spun, shooting into the bathroom only to return victorious, coffee held above his head like a trophy.

"Bye Wayne, Stevie!" He shouted as he loped towards the door.

"Eddie." Steve called, finally looking up from his paper with one eyebrow raised. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Right, right." Eddie said, trotting over and planting a quick kiss on Steve's lips. "Ok bye, I'll see you both after work!"

He shot outside, the cheap plastic door rattling in its frame behind him.

Amused, Steve grinned. "That wasn't what I meant."

Wayne chuckled quietly next to him. "He'll figure it out in a minute."

The two abandoned their papers as Steve reached forward, grabbing Eddie's keys off the coffee table.

"He's got to find a better way to keep all his stuff in one place." Steve said with a shake of his head.

"Hate to tell you this son, but he did." Wayne said, reaching over to pat Steve's knee. "That's what you're for."

Steve rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed on his face. "Figures."

(Two seconds later Eddie burst back through the door, only to see the keys Steve held in the air and make grabby hands for them.

"I'm not tossing them to you Ed's, you won't catch them." Steve told him playfully.

Eddie flipped him off.)

#steddie #established relationship #wayne is a bamf and also hes loves steve #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #0o0 fanfics #steve x eddie #stranger things season 4

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llamagoddessofficial · 4 months ago

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Llama, could you share any datemate Fae!Dream you may have please 🥺

What a lovely, silly, complicated guy.

We know he's got... issues. His whole life he's been surrounded by yes-men and people who think the sun shines out of his ass. He really, genuinely believes that his worth as a person is directly tied to how 'good' of a King he is; hence his habit of hyper-focusing on a new partner, then gradually drifting away from them as his need to continually prove his 'goodness' begins to rear its head again.

I think Dream, deep down, really wants someone who doesn't think he's all that. Someone who doesn't admire him, or get swept up in his power and prestige. Someone who actually sees him.

He would really like someone blunt. Someone who sees through him. Someone who will say "Dream, I feel really abandoned, you're being a shitty partner." or "I'm hurt that you keep sending gifts as apologies for not spending time with me, it feels like you don't care enough to actually come apologise."

He wants someone who'll talk with him for hours. But if not more, he wants someone who will stay even when he's silent. Someone who'll sit with him by the lakeside, his head in their lap, doing nothing. Saying nothing. Reading together is one of his favourite activities.

He wants someone who won't rush to 'fix' that he isn't happy.

Someone who doesn't need a performance.

Being with Dream means understanding that he's the King of a massive, sprawling realm. He will be busy. You won't always have his time.

He's much more perceptive than he lets on. He'll remember if you expressed interest in something.

He has taken many lovers to the most beautiful areas of the Summer realm. But he has a place that's 'his', where no one else is allowed to go. It has a small pond, not as pretty as the big lakes. A tree, old and wizened but still bearing fruit. A tiny garden with flowers he planted himself.

He'll take you there. He wants you to see it.

You'd probably constantly be surprised that he keeps coming back to you. Everyone else in his life says exactly what he wants to hear, why does he always refuse to dismiss you from his side, even though you're the only one who dares to tell him what you really think? All the other fae look at you like you're insane when you plainly tell him your thoughts. Yet he still brings you everywhere.

He deeply craves that kind of reality check. You're always calling him out, but never in a malicious way. It's just honesty. And even when you do tell him he'd being a (pardon my British coming through) massive git, you still treat him with kindness and stay by his side. You see his flaws but remain anyway.

He's surprisingly not overly physically affectionate. He shows physical love in more restrained ways - taking off his gloves to help you down from a horse, seeing you for the first time in a while and spinning you when you jump into his arms, quietly resting his head on your shoulder when he's so tired but the day isn't over yet, letting the kiss on your hand linger that fraction longer.

When it's just the two of you, he doesn't smile as much. You come to realise just how much that means he loves you.

#llamagines #fae au

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edenesth · 8 months ago

Text

TWTHH Spinoff: Take Me Away [2]

Pairing: private investigator!Wooyoung x courtesan!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 7.7k

Trigger Warnings: forced prostitution, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, attempted sexual assault

Summary: While working on a new case in town, Wooyoung was captivated when he stumbled upon a beauty unlike any other. Just as he began to believe that he might have found a Lady Park of his own, word got out that she was merely the newest courtesan at the town's brothel. Disheartened by this revelation, he nearly abandons his pursuit of her until he hears whispers suggesting that she may not have been there of her own will.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"So, that's what happened... My lord, I realise it might seem shameless of me to have declined the bonus before and now ask for it, but I must save her!" Wooyoung pleaded, recounting everything from the beginning: from the moment he bumped into you on the street—alright, he might have left out the part where he was infatuated like a schoolboy and moping around like a fool—to discovering the truth about your situation, and the recent visit he had paid you.

Before the general could offer reassurance, another voice interrupted from the entrance of the study, beating him to it, "Hwa, we have to help him! The poor thing must be scared out of her mind!"

All three men turned their heads to find Lady Park standing there, her eyes wide with worry as she entered the room. Seonghwa didn't hesitate to rush to his wife's side before wrapping an arm securely around her smaller frame, "What are you doing here, my love? It's late, you should be resting."

The private investigator felt his breath catch as he beheld his former dream girl. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss her. She looked even more beautiful than before, if that were possible, seemingly glowing. Perhaps that was the effect of receiving the general's affection. He had to calm his foolish heart and maintain his composure as he rose from his seat to bow respectfully to her, watching as she offered him a warm smile in response.

"I couldn't sleep when Jongho told me Wooyoung was here. I got worried and had to come see if everything was alright," the lady said, addressing her husband as she pouted at him, "Please tell me you're going to agree to his request..."

Seonghwa chuckled, gently nuzzling his nose against her head before planting a tender peck there, "I was going to agree, but you came in just in time to cut me off," He turned to face the younger man, who looked at them with a mix of admiration and gratitude, "Don't worry, Wooyoung. We'll provide all the assistance you need. If you'd like, I can send Jongho along with you on this mission."

The assistant felt his cheeks flush at the unexpected offer. He couldn't fathom sneaking into a place like a brothel, even for such an important cause. Fortunately, the investigator declined with a shake of his head, sensing his friend's apprehension, "No, sir. That won't be necessary, your financial assistance is all I require for now. This is something I must accomplish on my own."

Lady Park nodded, speaking on behalf of her husband, "Alright, but if you require anything—anything at all—please don't hesitate to ask. We'll do everything in our power to support you."

"Thank you, my lady. I'll keep that in mind; I really appreciate it," Wooyoung replied with a deep bow. If his current situation hadn't been so urgent, he might have remarked on how unusually attentive the general was to her. Seonghwa was always by her side, but there was something different in the carefulness of the way he handled her.

"If that's all, we'll be turning in for the night," the newly married man announced as he guided his wife out of the room.

The investigator nodded quickly, "Of course. I've kept you both up long enough; please don't let me stop you."

"Come, my love. You need rest."

Before leaving the room completely, the lady turned back to Wooyoung again, her expression earnest, "Promise me you'll get her out of there," the younger man nodded firmly, "I promise, my lady."

As Lady Park's words lingered in the air, Wooyoung sensed the depth of her plea. He discerned the subtle pain reflected in her eyes, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. The general's wife seemed to grasp the anguish of being trapped in a relentless nightmare all too well, to be abandoned by one's own father.

His resolve to save you had already been firm, but now, fueled by the lady's empathy, his determination surged even stronger. It wasn't just about a silly crush anymore; it became a quest to right a grave injustice and bring solace to a soul in torment.

After the couple retired to their private quarters, Wooyoung stayed behind to devise a more comprehensive plan with the ever-meticulous Jongho, who had once been his greatest asset when they were gathering evidence against the former Minister Jang. With precision, the assistant outlined all his suggestions in a neatly drafted plan, folding the parchment into a perfect rectangle before handing it to the investigator.

"Here, decide which ones suit your situation the best. Just let me know how much you require, and I'll take care of all your transactions. You should probably head to the dressmaker's shop for your disguise as soon as possible if you wish to set those plans into motion the following night."

"Thanks, Jongho. You're a real one."

"Yeah, yeah. Just go."

In no time, Wooyoung arrived at the entrance of Hongjoong's shop, cautiously stepping inside while marvelling at the colourful hanboks on display. He braced himself for a possible lecture from the older man, knowing that he was already swamped with orders, not just from Lady Park, but from noblewomen all over town. And here the investigator was, about to place an urgent special order that needed to be fulfilled before the next nightfall.

His steps halted abruptly upon hearing the familiar, annoyed sound of a throat clearing from the back of the shop, "Jung Wooyoung, you'd better have a good explanation for welcoming yourself into my shop at such an early hour," came the gruff voice.

"H-hyung, listen... I know the last thing you want is to see my face first thing in the morning, but—"

"Damn right, I don't. So, get straight to the point. There better be a valid reason for your presence, or I'll see to it that you're banned from entering my shop for good."

Arms crossed over his chest, Hongjoong listened with a raised brow as the younger man swiftly retold the tale he'd shared with the general just hours earlier. Rather than reacting as seriously as expected, the dressmaker merely grinned teasingly, "Ahh, I see you've finally moved on from your little crush on Lady Park, huh? I hate to admit this, but I guess I am feeling slightly proud of you."

Wooyoung couldn't hide his unamused expression as he pursed his lips in disbelief, "Really? That's the only thing you can think of saying after everything I just told you?"

With a scoff, the older man snatched the parchment out of the investigator's hands, "Yes, and? Don't get sassy with me now. Show me the design you need done immediately, or you can figure out how to go about this on your own."

"Okay, okay, sheesh. Here's a sketch of the design I've seen on the male servants in the brothel. Fortunately, it's not too complicated, so it should be easy for you," the younger man said, handing over the sketch as he watched Hongjoong inspect it seriously, "Got it. This should be done in a few hours. You owe me a meal after this, Jung."

The investigator saluted playfully, "Yes, sir."

Noticing the exhaustion evident in Wooyoung's eyes, the older man softened, "You haven't slept a wink, have you? You look like you're about to keel over. Go take a nap in the back; there's a bed. I'll wake you when it's ready. We can't afford for you to pass out on the job. Poor Miss Han won't stand a chance if that happens."

Though he joked, the younger man sensed the concern behind his words. He nodded gratefully, "Thanks, hyung."

Once his head hit the pillow, he slipped into a deep sleep, just as Hongjoong had predicted. Since leaving you the previous night, his mind had been consumed with endless thoughts, meticulously crafting an elaborate plan to rescue you. He examined every detail, acutely aware that even the smallest mistake could jeopardise the entire operation. Failure was not an option, especially when it concerned you. He had made a promise to get you out, and he was resolute in keeping it. But for now, he would succumb to his exhaustion, if only for a brief respite.

I'll be there soon, Miss Han.

He awoke hours later, his sleep haunted by dreams of your frightened face pleading for him to save you. The dressmaker stood at the edge of the bed, gently shaking him awake, holding out the disguise, "How's this? Is it close enough to the real thing?"

With a groggy rub of his eyes, Wooyoung pulled himself up to sit. He blinked repeatedly to clear his vision, then turned his attention to the replica of the servant uniform laid out before him. As he examined it, his eyes widened at how closely it resembled the actual outfit.

"It's perfect, hyung," he declared, nodding in approval, "They'll never suspect a thing."

"This way, Mr. Jung. She's ready for you."

Today felt different from the first day. The emotions swirling inside you were no longer tinged with dread or overwhelming fear.

Instead, anticipation coursed through you as you sat straight on the king-sized bed in the same room. Biting your lip, you waited eagerly to see him again. Since he last bid you goodbye, your thoughts had been consumed by him. The sincerity in his eyes lingered in your mind, nearly bringing tears to your own. It was hard to believe that someone cared for you so deeply, especially considering your own father's indifference. Despite this, part of you still had doubts, wondering if you would ever see him again.

Yet, here he was, keeping his promise.

"Hi, Miss Han," he greeted, almost shyly, as he waved awkwardly by the entrance. After closing the door behind him, he made his way to the table in the centre of the room, setting down the duffel bag he'd been carrying on his shoulder.

You smiled meekly, approaching him, "Hello, Mr. Jung. It's good to see you again."

His smile faltered slightly at your words. He sensed the surprise in your tone as if you hadn't expected him to return, and it hurt him to think you might not trust him fully. With determination, he nodded and reassured you, "Of course, I promised to get you out of here. You'll be seeing a lot more of me from now on."

Your eyes widened in wonder as he unfurled his bag, revealing a set that looked like an exact replica of the uniform worn by the male servants in the Mansion of Midnight, "Woah, where did you get that?" you asked, curious and astonished.

With an enthusiastic beam, he replied, "It's all part of my job. I often need to wear disguises. With this, I'll be able to move around the establishment without any issues. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Blushing furiously, you turned away immediately as he hastily moved to undress and change into the servant outfit.

Your cheeks burned as you struggled to recover from catching a glimpse of his bare back. He seemed so calm, as if undressing was the most natural thing in the world. But for you, it was a different story. Being a virgin through and through, you hadn't been near any men other than your father all your life. Even then, he wasn't home most of the time.

To be in a room alone with a man like this, and for him to get changed so casually before you, was enough to fluster you. You had barely spoken to any boys up close before this, let alone in a situation like this. The unexpected moment left you feeling both intrigued and embarrassed, unsure of how to act or what to say next.

Before you could further overthink it, Wooyoung proudly announced, "Alright, I'm done!" Startled, you turned to see him looking just like one of the many servants in the brothel, though perhaps a bit too handsome to blend in seamlessly. Nonetheless, you hoped no one would pay too much attention to him.

Stuffing his own clothes back into the bag on the table, he assured you, "You stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can. Today, I'll work on figuring out the full layout of the entire place and create a detailed map before I start investigating their operations."

You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and gratitude, "Don't worry, I'll be right here. Be safe out there, Mr. Jung."

With a final smile directed at you, he sneaked out the same way he entered once he was sure the coast was clear, leaving you alone in the room, your thoughts swirling with anticipation and anxiety.

After the investigator departed, you sank back onto the bed, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood over you. You scolded yourself mentally for being such a child, recognising that now was not the time for such distractions. Contemplating the situation, you understood why he seemed so unaffected. His focus was solely on his mission, leaving little room for trivial concerns like your reaction.

Feeling foolish for allowing yourself to be so affected, you resolved to move past it. What truly mattered was for his plan to succeed, and for you to finally gain freedom from this place. And to do so, you braced yourself for more moments like that.

As hours passed with you sitting alone, worrying about whether or not his disguise remained undetected, you heard footsteps approaching from outside. Your heart leapt with hope, anticipating his return, only for it to plummet when you recognised the feminine silhouette through the paper walls.

It wasn't just any female; it was Iseul.

Oh god, what is she doing here?

Her intentions became clear as she called out to Wooyoung in a seductive tone, "Mr. Jung, are you truly enjoying yourself in there? Your silence speaks volumes. I had my doubts, and now they're confirmed. A man who is enjoying himself wouldn't be able to keep his voice down; I'd know that. I told you she wouldn't be able to satisfy you. It's not too late to change your mind, you know? I'll treat you much better, trust me."

In a panic, you decided to speak up, hoping to persuade her to leave you alone, "I-Iseul unnie, everything is fine! Please don't worry about Mr. Jung. I'm sure you have plenty of clients waiting for you."

She scoffed dismissively, "Oh, please, stay out of this, rookie. I wasn't speaking to you. You'd better keep quiet if you know what's good for you. I'll leave only when he tells me to. What say you, Mr. Jung?" Your anxiety escalated as you felt her suspicions intensify with each passing moment of the private investigator's silence. This could all end if she so much as pushed the door open. Who knew what consequences awaited you and Wooyoung if you were found out?

"Mr. Jung...? Why isn't he responding? What have you done to him, Han?! If he doesn't answer by the count of three, I'm coming in, do you understand?"

As Iseul's threat escalated, Wooyoung suddenly appeared through the room window right on time, catching you off guard. Aware of the risk of being seen in his disguise while with you, he swiftly shed the servant outfit, leaving himself shirtless.

With the door starting to creak open, panic surged within you. Acting on instinct, you quickly tugged open the outer layer of your hanbok and pulled Wooyoung onto the bed with you. Without a second thought, you pressed your lips firmly against his, the only action that seemed to make sense in the heat of the moment.

Almost spontaneously, he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer and kissing you back with fervour, doing everything in his power to make the act appear convincing to the senior courtesan.

"M-Mr. Jung...?" she croaked, her eyes widening in disbelief at the unexpectedly intimate sight before her.

Breaking away from the kiss, he turned to her with a feigned look of annoyance, protectively using his body to shield your partially undressed form, "Excuse me, but what exactly do you think you're doing in here? My silence should have been clear enough that I'm not interested in you or your services. What's so difficult to understand? Also, I'd show Miss Han more respect if I were you. If you don't leave us at once, I'll file a major complaint against you. I'm sure that wouldn't help your reputation now, would it?"

With clenched fists, Iseul stormed out of the room, her pride wounded beyond repair, "I'll get you back for this. Just you wait, Han."

Once she was gone, the two of you jumped apart, red-faced as you scrambled to put your clothes back on. Clearing your throats, you tried to push aside the awkwardness and ignore the rapid beating of your hearts. The investigator reached into his bag, retrieving a fresh parchment. He distracted himself by immediately sketching the layout of the place while it was still fresh in his mind.

Throughout the evening, he remained focused on refining the map, and you stayed close, ensuring he had everything he needed: snacks, tea, a blanket in case it got chilly—anything to make yourself useful and assist him in his task. At the same time, you both fought to recover from the fact that you'd just shared your first kiss with one another so aggressively, constantly reminding yourselves that it was all for the mission to get you out and held no deeper significance.

As you escorted the investigator to the door at the end of his session, you pondered addressing the obvious elephant in the room. It became apparent that you both felt equally bothered by it when you simultaneously began to apologise.

"Look, I'm sorry for kissing you—"

"I apologise for touching you like that—"

You blinked rapidly, clearing your throat and rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly, "I suppose there might be more of that in the future if we want to succeed. Perhaps it would be wise for us to establish now that any intimate encounters we have from this point onward will be solely for the sake of the mission and nothing more."

But what if I want more than that?

Despite conflicting thoughts, Wooyoung smiled and nodded in agreement, reminding himself that exploring his attraction to you was not the priority at the moment.

The following week, the investigator faithfully honoured his daily promise, buying up all your time and effectively warding off any other potential clients. By this point, everyone in the brothel recognised you as Mr. Jung's girl. The other girls looked on with envy, marvelling at your ability to captivate the attention of such a young, handsome patron. His generosity and apparent protectiveness, as evidenced by his exclusive attention to you, sparked admiration and jealousy among them. It was as if he feared anyone else laying claim to you.

As the days went by, you grew closer, bonding over your shared time together. You developed an admiration for his profession, understanding the meticulous planning and inherent risks involved in his work. Witnessing his passion for what he did stirred emotions within you, though you struggled to define them. Was it gratitude, the joy of friendship, or something more?

Yet, amid the newfound closeness, a nagging uncertainty lingered in the back of your mind. What would happen to your relationship once he succeeded in freeing you? Would you still remain friends, or would circumstances pull you apart? The mere thought of never seeing him again left you with a pang of sadness, leaving you to ponder the depths of your feelings and the unknown future ahead.

You were startled from your thoughts as Wooyoung once again slipped in through the room window, following his routine from the past week. This time, however, he finally met your gaze with hopeful eyes. Changing out of his servant's disguise and settling back at the table, he began, "Good news, Miss Han. After digging through shady operations for so long, I finally unearthed something big. This wouldn't just be enough to secure your freedom but could also lead to the Mansion of Midnight's downfall."

"Really? What is it?" you asked, eyes wide.

He nodded, gesturing to the chair beside him, "You might want to take a seat first."

Just when you believed you had reached the limit of your trauma, another wave crashed over you. Through him, you learned the extent of the horrors perpetrated by the establishment. He cleared his throat, "I was right. Their operations are nowhere near clean. Other than forced prostitution, they're also exploiting minors, conducting illegal side businesses involving drugging clients to prolong their stay and coercing victims into settling debts, even if it meant sacrificing their own daughters... just like you."

"How despicable..." you murmured, sinking back in your seat as the weight of the revelation settled over you.

Wooyoung reached out, gently clasping your hand on the table, "It'll be alright. I promise I'll put an end to this once and for all."

Concern etched your features as you covered his hand with yours, "But Mr. Jung, what if the authorities are on their side? They must have some powerful allies to operate for so long. What if things don't go as planned? It's too risky. What if they retaliate when they find out you've uncovered so much? Who knows what they'll do to you?"

His grin widened as he rubbed a comforting thumb over your skin, "Are you concerned about me now, my lady?"

You frowned, gripping his hand tighter, "You know better than to call me that, I'm no lady."

At some point, you had grown accustomed to his mildly annoying antics as a result of the time spent together. He eventually felt comfortable enough to reveal his true self, showcasing a playful side that oddly made your heart flutter around him even more. Amidst the constant anxiety of your situation, his optimism provided a refreshing contrast. Slowly, he had become your source of solace, the only one you could rely on in this turbulent environment.

Leaning closer teasingly, he smirked, "You are to me, and that's all that matters. But that's beside the point. It's good to know you finally care enough to worry about me too."

Pushing him away gently, you clucked your tongue, "And what if I am? You... you're all I have, Jung Wooyoung," you admitted, feeling a surge of emotion as you contemplated the potential consequences of his plan failing.

Sensing you were on the verge of tears, he turned to face you properly, his heart skipping a beat at the softness in your voice when you said his name. But he didn't let it show; if you only knew what your words had done to him and his poor heart. A selfish part of him wished to be that for you forever. To be the only one you'd depend on, the only one you'd go to when you needed a shoulder to cry on, the only one you'd share all your sorrows and happiness with.

Gently grasping your shoulders, he turned you to face him, "Hey, hey, look at me. You may be right. They might have some corrupt official backing them. But don't forget who I have on my side. I have General Park, His Majesty's most trusted warrior. Who do you think holds more power here, hm?"

He couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through him as he watched the adorable expression on your face, seeing the realisation dawn upon you as you absorbed his words. It was clear that you had momentarily forgotten about the powerful allies he possessed. This newfound confidence filled you with hope, making the idea of escaping from this place seem less like an impossible dream.

"Tomorrow is the day we're freeing you and bringing this place down. Are you ready to get out of here, my lady?" he asked, his voice filled with determination.

Returning his smile, you nodded eagerly, "I sure am, Mr. Jung."

But when tomorrow finally arrived, all your hopes and dreams came crashing down as you received the news that your usual appointment with Wooyoung had been replaced. Instead, your time had been reserved by one of the scariest clients known for his brutal force. This client, known as the Mad Dog, was infamous for leaving courtesans bruised, scarred, and unable to walk for days.

Should've known it was all going too well.

The brothel madam looked down at you with feigned pity as you trembled in fear. The staff busied themselves, fixing your hair and makeup, preparing you in an even more revealing hanbok than the usual ones you wore when meeting with the investigator.

"I'm sorry, my dear," the madam cooed rather sarcastically, "I'm not sure how the Mad Dog found out about you, especially considering how new you are. But you know what he's like; he always gets what he wants. He offered to pay twice the normal price, and who are we to say no to him? Just endure this for today. I'm sure sweet Mr. Jung will be gentle with you later on."

Without offering her a response, you fought to contain the panicked tears threatening to spill as the madam left after ensuring you stayed put. Just as the staff completed the final touches on your appearance, a smug figure materialised at the room's entrance. Looking up, you saw Iseul standing there, a smirk playing on her lips as she observed your distress.

"Congratulations, rookie," she sneered, "It's quite an accomplishment to catch the Mad Dog's eye. You've been doing so well lately, securing such a loyal client early in your career. I had to put in a good word for you." Your eyes widened in horror as you realised she had been the one to orchestrate this.

"You're welcome, Miss Han. Enjoy yourself tonight. I promise I'll take good care of Mr. Jung for you in the meantime," she added with a grin, biting her lip before slipping out the way she came.

No, please. This cannot be happening.

Seated once more on the edge of the familiar bed, tonight was different. Emotions flooded through you—fear so intense it threatened to overwhelm, and a desperate urge to jump off the building. The open window seemed to beckon, tempting you with its freedom to the afterlife. Yet, a part of you held out hope for a miracle, yearning for Wooyoung to appear through that very window and rescue you from this nightmare.

Just as you contemplated reaching for the window, your heart seized at the sound of heavy footsteps—unlike the investigator's usual light tread—approaching the room. Paralysed with fear, you could only sit and watch as the intimidating man strode in. Closing the door firmly behind him, he nodded approvingly, "I suppose I can see the appeal. You're quite the beauty, aren't you?"

His nickname, "Mad Dog," seemed fitting as you observed his nearly crazed eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as he scanned you from head to toe, making you feel exposed and violated just by his gaze alone. With his middle-aged appearance and burly build, coupled with a receding hairline and furrowed brow, he resembled a creature straight out of your worst nightmares. The mere thought of him near you turned your stomach. How could anyone possibly willingly allow him to touch them?

With a sleazy lick of his lips, he wasted no time closing the distance between you. Panic surged through you as you realised you couldn't do this. Your eyes darted to the exit, and you made a desperate dash for it, but he was faster. He let out a guttural laugh as he ensnared you in his beefy arms, "No, let me go! I refuse!" you screamed, struggling against his grasp.

"I don't think that's up to you, doll. I've paid a hefty amount for you, this better be worth it," he growled, throwing you onto the bed and tearing open the outer layer of your hanbok as if it were paper. Tears streamed down your face as you cried, "Stay away from me!" You scrambled backwards, trying to put some distance between you, only to find yourself cornered against the headboard.

"Help! Somebody, please, help me!"

"Shout all you want, sweetheart. No one's coming to save you."

Wooyoung's blood boiled as he absorbed the brothel madam's words, "What do you mean she's with another client? I've had her reserved all week. Is this how you conduct business? It seems you're not honouring my requests very well."

She let out a teasing laugh, playfully slapping him on the arm with her decorative fan, "Oh, Mr. Jung, don't be so upset. She's not with just any ordinary client; it's a valued patron we can't afford to turn away. He's paid double your usual rate. You'll have her all to yourself again by tomorrow. In the meantime, we've selected our finest girls to compensate for today. Take your pick. And just for you, we'll even offer a discount," she said, gesturing to the lineup of courtesans batting their eyelashes seductively at him.

Ignoring the courtesans, he pressed further, "And who is this client you're speaking of? I can pay triple the amount if that's what it takes for me to have Miss Han."

The other girls exchanged jealous huffs, wondering what made you so special for the investigator to be this possessive. Iseul's grin widened as she intervened, "It's the infamous Mad Dog, Mr. Jung. I'm sure you've heard of him. Unfortunately, money won't sway his desires. He's not someone we can afford to offend. Now, how about I show you a good time today? Who knows, you might find yourself forgetting all about her after this."

His heart lurched in his chest at the revelation. After meticulously gathering information about the big clients in the Mansion of Midnight, he knew the Mad Dog was the most notorious of them all. The mere thought of that abomination laying his rough hands on you filled him with a murderous rage like never before. He had promised to keep you safe and could not allow this to happen to you.

He would never forgive himself.

With only you in mind, nothing else mattered as he pushed the brothel madam aside and stormed up the stairs to your usual room, "No, wait! Mr. Jung! You cannot do this!" they called out to him, trying to stop him, but he shoved anyone in his way aside.

His blood ran cold when he heard your familiar voice crying miserably for help. Kicking the door open, he saw red and nearly went feral at the sight before him: your outer layer of hanbok torn to shreds, the skirt of your inner layer pushed up to your thighs, and the man's head buried in your neck, seemingly trying to leave his mark, trapping your arms above your head as you struggled helplessly against him.

"Get your filthy hands off her, you bastard!" Wooyoung growled, his fury fueling a surge of strength as he pulled the Mad Dog off your delicate frame, landing a punch on his cheek hard enough to send him crashing to the ground with a groan.

As he watched you immediately curl up, shaking like a leaf, his heart broke. Hastily, he draped a blanket over you, shielding you from further exposure. Meeting your tear-filled gaze, you pleaded pitifully, "Please, take me away from here."

Pressing a kiss onto your forehead, he locked eyes with you, "I promise I will. I'm here now, you're safe with me."

Relief flooded through you as his presence reassured you that he wasn't just a figment of your imagination. For a moment, you had feared he wouldn't arrive in time to save you. You knew he would come, but the thought of him being a moment too late haunted you. If he had been, you feared losing the last shred of your innocence, making you forever tainted and unworthy in his eyes. It was then that you realised your feelings for him were undeniable. It was so much more than just gratitude or the joy of friendship.

You wanted more than to be a charity case.

You wanted him.

Wanted to be with Jung Wooyoung.

"You'll regret that, boy. Do you even know who you're dealing with? You're that loyal little customer of hers, aren't you?" the monster threatened as he struggled to push himself off the ground.

The investigator held you close as you whimpered, trying to comfort you while glaring at the Mad Dog, "I am, and you'll regret messing with my woman," he asserted. Clinging to him, your heart pounded in your chest for different reasons: for his words, desperately hoping he meant them, and for fear of his safety from the man's potential wrath.

"Stop this at once, Mr. Jung! If you persist, we'll have no option but to blacklist you from our establishment," the brothel madam warned, her eyes widening in disbelief at the scene before her.

Wooyoung's smirk widened, "I'd like to see you try. I didn't want to do this the hard way, but you've given me no choice."

The Mad Dog chuckled, "And what exactly do you plan to do, kid?"

"You'll find out." With a sharp whistle aimed out the open window, a group of what appeared to be royal guards swiftly entered through the main entrance, causing everyone to freeze as they tried to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

"Is this the woman you mentioned, Investigator Jung?" the head guard inquired, pointing to the brothel madam.

"Yes, that's her," Wooyoung confirmed.

The woman froze in panic, "Wh-what is the meaning of this?"

"You, as the owner of the Mansion of Midnight, are under arrest for forced prostitution, exploiting minors, drugging patrons, and coercing victims into settling debts through illegal means," the head guard stated monotonously.

She resisted as the guards secured her arms in a tight grip, preventing her from escaping, "No, that's not true! There is an official who can vouch for the legitimacy of my business."

"If you're referring to the local magistrate who took your bribes and covered up your illegal activities, I regret to inform you that he's already in custody, awaiting trial. He didn't protect you during his interrogation," the head guard responded before instructing his comrades, "Guards, search the premises and arrest all accomplices."

"Yes, sir!" came the unified reply.

She sagged hopelessly in the grasp of the guards behind her as the rest dispersed to halt all operations and apprehend the other culprits, "H-how...?" she stammered.

Wooyoung fixed her with a stern gaze, "It appears you've truly forgotten what I do for a living and the powerful allies I have. Perhaps you should have thought twice before accepting me as a client. That was the first misstep leading to your downfall."

As the guards dragged the brothel madam out, leaving the Mad Dog panicking in his spot, he realised he had underestimated the young man before him. He hadn't known this was the famous Investigator Jung all along. Suddenly, he regretted the threats and taunts he had hurled just moments ago.

He wasn't the only one in a state of anxiety; Iseul stood wide-eyed, shaking, and attempting to sneak away unnoticed. However, the investigator's keen eye caught her every move. With a nod in their direction, a few guards swiftly stepped forward to capture them before they could flee.

"This one's guilty of sexual assault and violence against countless women, and this one has encouraged his actions," Wooyoung declared firmly, "Perhaps they could both use a good lesson in the torture chambers. I'm sure General Park would approve."

Both Iseul and the Mad Dog pleaded for forgiveness as they were dragged out of the room, their cries fading into the distance.

Thank god, it's finally over...

Overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions you just experienced, the sudden relief was enough to render you unconscious, lying limp in Wooyoung's arms. With an exhausted sigh, he cradled your head against his neck, planting a gentle kiss on your temple and whispering, "Rest now, my lady. I won't let anyone harm you again."

As you regained consciousness, you blinked and rubbed your eyes until the unfamiliar surroundings came into focus. Panic surged through you as you shot up from the bed, causing the comforter around you to slip down and reveal the high-quality sleepwear you were dressed in. In an instant, someone entered the room from the doorway. Pulling the comforter up to your chest as a shield, you cowered in fear, "Wh-where am I and who are you?" you stammered.

The elderly woman smiled warmly down at you, "Hello, Miss Han. I hope you've had a good rest. My name is Eunsook, and I'm the head maid of General Park's estate."

Your jaw dropped as you tried to process her words, "G-General Park...? As in the strongest general in all of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior?"

The head maid chuckled and nodded, "Yes, the one and only."

"Was it Mr. Jung who brought me here?" you croaked, to which she replied, "Indeed, Investigator Jung brought you here as soon as the situation at the Mansion of Midnight had been taken care of. Would you like to see him, my dear?"

"I... I'm sure he has more important matters to attend to than to see me. He promised to free me, and he's done that... There's no more reason for him to see me," you murmured, lowering your head. As much as you longed for him, you knew better. You didn't deserve him. Even though you were now free, you still came from a humble background and had nothing to offer him.

Your head snapped up when you heard the familiar sound of tongue clucking, and you were surprised to see Wooyoung there, shaking his head disapprovingly. It turns out he had been hiding by the entrance the whole time. However, the cheeky grin on his lips betrayed his feigned disappointment. It was clear he didn't have the heart to actually lecture you; he was prepared for this. Somehow, he knew your lack of confidence would potentially get in the way of you expressing your true feelings.

"Really? After everything I've done for you, you don't think there's a reason for us to see each other anymore?" he said teasingly, "So you have no plans to repay me, hm?"

Eunsook couldn't help but giggle into her fist at your flustered expression, clearly caught off guard by the investigator's sudden appearance. The elderly woman bowed slightly, "I should probably go check on Lady Park. I'll be leaving you two alone to talk."

With a grateful nod in her direction, he approached you and settled onto the bed, facing you directly, "Tell me, do you truly believe there's no need to repay me for all the effort I invested in rescuing you?"

Avoiding his piercing gaze, you gulped, "So, what is it that you want then? As I've said, I don't have much to offer other than—"

He gently reached for your hand resting on your lap, interrupting your words. His touch was reassuring as he stroked the back of your palm as if it were second nature, "It would be great if you could start by allowing me to court you, my lady."

You gasped, meeting his eyes immediately, "What? You cannot possibly mean that, you deserve someone so much better—"

Shaking his head, he squeezed your hand gently, "That's not what I want to hear. I want to know what you want, my lady. Do you want to be with me? If not, I can leave you be, if that's what you truly wish. Your happiness is all that matters to me."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you didn't realise tears were streaming down your cheeks until he lifted a hand to wipe them, "Tell me... what is it that you want?"

Emotions swirled within you as you felt your heart fluttering at his caring and respectful demeanour. His considerate words and actions were something you had never experienced in your life. The affection you felt for him in that moment threatened to burst from your chest.

The soft and sincere look in his eyes only deepened your emotions, causing tears to flow harder. Summoning all your courage, you dared to squeeze his hand back. What kind of fool would you be to push him away now? You couldn't bear to let him down, nor were you selfless enough to let him go.

Drawing closer to him, you chose to let your actions speak and pressed your lips softly against his, warmth enveloping your body as you felt him kissing you back with equal tenderness. He cupped your wet cheek gently, his touch offering a sense of comfort and security.

Pulling back slowly, you whispered against his lips, "You... I want you, Jung Wooyoung."

"Then it's me you shall have."

And that marked the first day of him courting you. As days turned into weeks, you settled into a new routine at the general's estate. Lady Park's kindness knew no bounds, and she graciously allowed you to stay there, knowing you had nowhere else to turn. Certainly not to that decrepit place with your despicable father.

Amidst this new life, you found solace in the companionship of the mistress. She taught you the art of embroidery, a skill that not only passed the time but also allowed you to contribute in some small way to the household. When you weren't with her, you spent your time with the investigator as you got to know each other better.

Then came the news—the Mansion of Midnight had been officially shut down. It was a relief to hear that justice had been served, and the perpetrators were facing the consequences of their actions. The girls who had been trapped there were finally free, receiving the care and support they deserved from the government.

Life seemed to be looking up in every way, but there was one thing that weighed heavily on your mind—Wooyoung's plans to introduce you to his parents.

"You worry too much, they're going to love you," were the last words from Lady Park and Eunsook before sending you off. The journey to his family estate passed in a blur, and before you knew it, you found yourself seated in the living hall of the estate. It was smaller than the general's, given that they were an average family.

Wooyoung reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your knuckles, "Relax, love. Everything will be okay," he reassured you. But despite the assurances from everyone, a part of you still feared how his family would perceive you.

As his parents finally greeted you, your heart raced with nervous anticipation. Throughout the meeting, it was evident that you were finding it difficult to be yourself, tiptoeing around cautiously despite the elderly couple's friendly demeanour. Deep down, you imagined all sorts of possibilities, fearing their kindness might be a facade meant to separate you both once you left.

Sensing your nerves and doubts, his mother gently set down her teacup and offered you a warm and motherly smile, "Miss Han, I hope my son hasn't been bothering you too much with his antics. I know he can be a handful, but we can see he's serious about you. When the time comes for him to propose, I hope you'll consider giving him a chance." His father chuckled and nodded in agreement as you stared at them in shock.

Reaching out to pat your hand, she continued, "We understand your concerns, but we want you to know that your past doesn't matter to us. Our priority is our son's happiness, and if that means being with you, then we're more than happy with it."

The remainder of the day unfolded smoothly as you dined with Wooyoung's parents before he escorted you back to the general's estate that evening. Lingering by the entrance, he seemed reluctant to part ways just yet. Your intertwined hands swung back and forth as he playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you, "I told you everything would be fine, didn't I? Would it hurt to believe me?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "How can I when all you do is trick me over and over for fun? Do you even love me?"

Feigning offence, he dramatically gasped, placing a hand over his heart, "Excuse me, I'll have you know that while I may joke about many things, my love for you is genuine."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he embraced you, pulling you close, "Stop teasing and say it back already," he urged.

Just as you were on the verge of relenting, a loud clearing of the throat startled you both. Seonghwa stood by the gates, arms crossed over his chest, looking unamused, "Must you two do this right in front of my house?"

His cool demeanour vanished as soon as his wife appeared beside him, giving him a playful smack on the back of his head, "Leave them alone, you idiot!" she chided, before dragging him back into the estate, calling out, "Please continue!"

Laughter filled the air between you as you watched the couple go. After the moment passed, Wooyoung bit his lip, "There's a festival in town tomorrow, and I know you've been eager to go. Shall I pick you up at the same time tomorrow?"

Nodding shyly, you replied, "Yes, same time. I'll see you, Woo."

"See you, love." With a final peck on your lips, he pulled away. Before his hand could fully slip away, you held on, "Wait, I love you too."

With a cheeky grin, he teased, "I know."

"Ugh, you ruined the moment," you said with a playful sigh. Turning to leave, you couldn't help but smile as he whined behind you. Laughing, you added, "Go home, Woo. Don't be late tomorrow." He may be a fool, but he's the fool who saved your life. He's your fool, and you couldn't wait to have more moments like this with him.

Y'all, I'm sorry if this seemed rushed or anything. I sincerely hope this meets expectations! It's not easy trying to fit everything in a two-shot, but I really didn't want to drag it any longer than it has to be because I'm aware I have 6 more spinoffs to complete HAHA

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/5): @itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 @foxinnie8 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 @kpop17 @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @kamabokogonpachro @chngbnwf @dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143

#edenesth #the way to his heart #take me away #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #historical au #joseon era #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #ateez fic

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 7 months ago

Text

Of All Things, I Became an Aranara

You always imagined that if you woke up in the world of Genshin, the possibilities of being a Visionless wielder of elements and a slew of romantic shenanigans would lie in your wake. But when you instead find yourself in the body of an Aranara with romance likely out of the question, your only conclusion is that the gods of reincarnation isekai hate your guts.

cw. you're an aranara

pairing. scaramouche/wanderer x reader, cyno x reader, kaveh x reader, candace x reader (separate)

notes. don't feel like being an aranara today? well go ahead and go to the series masterlist and see what your life could be if you were something else in genshin.

While you would have preferred being human, you have to admit there are few things better than turning into an Aranara. You've most assuredly been given Genshin non-humanoid pretty privilege with beautiful powers concerning plants and dreams to boot.

An even bigger benefit is that you can talk, so communicating with humans in this world will be a cinch.

The only thing you can really complain about now is that you aren't really able to handle salt and spices the way you used to. But to be honest, if that's the only thing you have to complain about, you'll gladly settle with being one of the musically-inclined leaf children of the rainforest.

All of whom are your friends despite the predicament you've found yourself in. You may have technically lost the isekai 50/50 but you feel like you've won in a lot of ways too.

Scaramouche

Ironically enough he was one of the easiest individuals on the list to befriend. Why? You met him when his memories were completely reset to zero and he had a much more sweet and calm demeanor

Considering the sharp-tongue Scaramouche you're used to, it honestly gave you whiplash

Still, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the guy, bright eyed and full of wonder. It was the constant abandonments and perceived abandonments that turned Scara into the person he came

You accompany him when he regains his memories, after which he assumes that now you know the extent of his true character and the things he's done that you'll leave him now. he even encourages you to do so, shooing you away

you plopping your small self across his shoulder and telling him he's your best friend means a lot to him, even if he tells you in response that you're an idiot but you can do as you wish

Before and after regaining his memories, Scara is very clingy. Before regaining them, he slept with you nestled to his chest much like a child would a teddy bear. Afterwards, he considers it too soft and embarrassing to do so but if you snuggle up against him well, he won't stop you

Once you got lost while exploring and when you didn't come back within the time he expected you to, he grew quite panicked and nearly turned the entire forest upside down trying to find you

When he did, you were promptly scolded for making him have to look for you. What's the matter with you? Don't go traveling somewhere unfamiliar or you'll just make him have to waste time backtracking to look for you

(He was scared that you had gotten eaten or hurt or worse, that you decided to no longer travel with him, leaving him to be alone all over again)

Whenever he has nightmares, you turn his dreams into ones much happier. He tells you to stay out of his head but he appreciates the fanciful worlds you craft for him

You're also quite handy when he needs to avoid his new fanbase from the Akademiya. Taking him to the dream world to avoid talking to people is quite a useful trick of yours

But as it turns out, Scaramouche is quite popular with the Aranara and they all love to indulge him. So you kinda have some competition

You can't believe you're actually getting jealous of Aranaras. Wow, how the mighty have fallen

Cyno

A son of the desert who grew up in the rainforest, Cyno heard of stories regarding the Aranara but he never thought they'd be real. But as far as he is concerned, you're as much a citizen of Sumeru as he is

So Cyno quickly rolls with the punches and treats you accordingly with respect. Talk about a win!

But as far as you being a travel companion? Cyno isn't entirely sure since his work concerns apprehending wayward scholars and their affiliates. It's dangerous, so unless you can prove yourself to be sturdy enough to protect yourself, he'll tell discourage you from following him

Of course, he can't rightly force a creature of Dendro and dreams from doing that anyway if you stubbornly continue on with him

Thankfully, you can set his worries aside when you show not only are you adorable, but resourceful, using your powers of Dendro to apprehend criminals attempting to flee the scene when Cyno arrives (all while staying hidden in the realm of dreams. You're not trying to put a target on the back of every Aranara after all)

That aside, you don't really have any troubles with Cyno. When he rests by campfire, he will make sure you stay a comfortable distance from the flames and will teach you about GI TCG and will even tell you a joke or two (or three)

Cyno is a reliable companion. He'll protect you if you are under his protection but he doesn't make you feel less than because you're not human either

But when he isn't in work mode, he is very sweet and even let's you wear his headdress from time to time as long as you are careful with it. In return you place flower crowns atop his head

Is another protective companion. As one brought from the desert to the rainforest for the sake of experiments, Cyno knows what could happen should those at the Akademiya find out that Aranaras are more than just a tale for children

So he always makes sure you aren't sighted by those he cannot trust

Kaveh

Meeting Kaveh was a bit of an accident as you had to help disentangle from a mess of vines

For someone blessed with the power of Dendro, he isn't really one who naturally has an affinity for plants

As such, he is embarrassed when you find him in this situation. Embarrassed and quite amazed to find out that Aranara aren't just stories. One getting him out of a mess like this isn't really how Kaveh ever imagined meeting one back when he was a child

That aside, Kaveh straightens himself out, thanks you and honestly he tries to be polite about it but he has plenty of questions about your being an Aranara that you can't really answer outside of lore you got from the game

You tell him that you'll look out for him when he is prancing about the rainforest so he can avoid these sorts of mishaps in the future which he insists is unnecessary

But you're not trying to be stuck living in nature forever, you want to make sure you have guaranteed safety. It also helps that if you're going to attach yourself to a human in the game, they aren't just some random NPC. A player character comes with a certain level of stability you appreciate

Kaveh's too good an opportunity to pass up and Mehrak is quite cute too. Win-win situation

Out of everyone here though sadly, Kaveh treats you most like a pet. Something no one wants to get from a hot guy even if you understand why he treats you so

At least he gives you plenty of sweets to eat?

You become a surprising point of comfort for Kaveh when he grows frustrated with his roommate. You tend to use your powers of Dendro to weave flowers through his hair during those moments and listen when he vents

You think his kindness does him more harm than good and that he tends to be his worst critic, so you tell Kaveh to be kinder to himself

Candace

A desert really isn't the place for an Aranara but you stubbornly decided to try your luck at it anyway against your better judgement (and the advice of your fellow Aranara)

But a couple of near death experiences aside, you think you made a good decision when you get to Aaru Village. The children there are very sweet and fascinated by you, having never seen an Aranara themselves

So you become quite popular among them, making them all sweet dreams and becoming a sort of... Guardian, one might say

You also help maintain the few plantlife of Aaru Village from Sabbah's flowers to the ajilenakh trees

It isn't much work but it's honest work

Candace thought nothing of it, thinking it was cute for the children of the village to have something to talk about

Then she ran into you trying (and failing) to get some food from the storage and that is how you were discovered by the actual Guardian of Aaru Village

Despite that little mishap, Candace is sweet to you and presents to you the same rules she gives all guests of Aaru. She also appreciates you helping with the children

So she doesn't disagree when you label yourselves as a sort of duo protecting everyone in different ways

Candace seldom has time to rest or enjoy any sort of personal time, so you try to be her invisible company in the day and you pester her to take breaks

You'd threaten to keep her contained in vines to make her take a break but you know she is infinitely stronger than your own abilities

How else can she fight monsters for hours at a time without tiring?

Still if you're at that level of desperate to make her rest, Candace promises to take more breaks along the day and rely more on her fellow guards

#look she's writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kaveh x reader #candace x reader #cyno x reader

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senualothbrok · 1 month ago

Text

Here

Summary: After you save him from Orin's clutches, Gale has some things to work through. You show him that he is not alone.

Featuring a fireside chat with Astarion.

A response to this anon ask. I hope you like it 💜

Word count: 2.1k

Non-18+. Mild hurt/comfort. Gale x reader/Tav.

AO3 link

A/N: You can watch Gale's reactions to being rescued from Orin's lair here (at 12.32) and here.

Thank you so much @dekariosclan for beta reading and being my marvellous Gale consultant, as always!

****

His scream tears you from sleep. It is shrill, piercing, a desperate flinch against untold horrors. You reach out for him as he gasps, clawing at his orb scar, choking for breath.

When you touch him, he thrashes, still caught in the talons of his nightmare. You see the scars left by Orin in his cloying sweat, his shaking frame, his subsiding shouts as he crumples into you. He cannot hide them from you, much as he tries.

“It was a dream.” You press his head against your chest, twining your fingers through his tangled hair. “You’re safe. You're home.”

He does not speak for a long time. His eyelashes flutter against your skin, his heartbeat jolting through you as he searches frantically for his glade of calm. When he eventually finds it, you feel his hands come to rest on the small on your back, steadying, anchoring. You hold him, torn apart by a gratitude as strong as grief. He is here. You could have lost him, but he is here. You will never let go of him again.

He clears his throat. When he moves back to look at you, his smile does not quite meet his eyes.

“My apologies, my love. I didn't mean to wake you–”

His voice is hoarse, broken. You shake your head. “You have nothing to apologise for, Gale. Absolutely nothing.”

He looks away for a moment. You know you have a brief opening, now, before the mask comes up, before the jolly dismissals and self-deprecating quips resume their well-worn routines. You place your hand on his cheek.

“Gale, you know you can talk to me, don’t you? Everything that happened–”

He jerks his head, taking your hand in his. His skin is clammy, and there is a hollowness in his gaze, though it is still tender as rain-kissed earth.

“I'm fine, Tav. Please don't worry yourself.” A brisk smile of reassurance, warring with the dark circles under his eyes. “Of all the things on your very full plate, my welfare is not something you need to burden yourself with.”

You are about to object, but the kiss he plants on your cheek is swift and firm. When he rises from your shared bedroll, you feel bereft.

“I'm quite alright. Nothing that a bit of fresh air and a quick walk won't cure.”

He combs his fingers through his hair, squaring his shoulders. The walls are up, and he is retreating into the night. Even as you ask, you know what his answer will be.

“Should I come with you?”

He huffs, bending down to kiss your forehead. “No, please. Rest. I deprived you of a good sleep tonight, and gods knows how many nights before this. I want you to take what rest you can for our battles ahead. I won’t stray far. Don’t worry.”

You cup his face tightly, desperately. “I love you.”

This time, his eyes smile before he turns away. “I love you too.”

*****

In the distance, streaks of dawn tease at the bruises in the sky. Sleep is a triviality that eludes you. You huddle around the campfire, fretting, trying not to mark the hours that Gale has been gone. Trying not to imagine all of the nightmares which were until recently Gale’s reality.

You fail. You think of how Orin must have flayed Gale’s mind from his body as he struggled, powerless and alone. You imagine his terror, not just of torture and death, but of the orb inside him. And you wonder whether he despaired as he waited, doubting that his love would come for him, fearing that his friends had forgotten him. Convinced that he was once again abandoned to die.

‘Of all the things on your very full plate, my welfare is not something you need to burden yourself with.’

You bury your face in your hands, a chaos of panic, love and guilt. It takes you a moment to register the presence beside you.

“Gods, you look awful.”

Astarion is peering at you like he is examining a torn gown. A trickle of blood stains his collar, the triumph of a late night hunt. He wrinkles his nose as he studies you.

“Do I need to have a word with Gale about laying off on” – his hand circles vaguely – “whatever it is the two of you do at night?”

You do not have the energy to glare at him. Instead, you glance towards the edges of camp, scanning for signs of Gale’s return. When you see nothing, you sigh. Astarion arches an eyebrow.

“Do I really need to explain why Gale might not be in the mood for that?”

Astarion tilts his head. There is understanding in the pause that follows. Astarion had been the one who helped you get Gale down from Orin’s altar, after all. He had seen the turmoil in Gale’s eyes, the blood on his limbs before the healing spells. He had felt Gale’s resistance when you both laid hands on him, easing him up. The fractured moments before Gale’s usual cheery gratitude snapped into place. Astarion would have recognised the signs better than anyone.

“He’s been having nightmares,” you manage. “But he won’t talk about them. He woke up screaming tonight. Then he went for a walk. He’s been gone for two hours.”

Astarion frowns. “If you’re worried for his safety, the wizard is more than capable of blasting people to smithereens.” He purses his lips. “Assuming he’s not magically restrained, like Orin managed–”

You wince at your rising dread. Gale is an archwizard, you remind yourself, not a defenceless babe. You fight the urge to smother him in care, to protect him and keep him safe at all costs. It is not what he needs. But perhaps you do not know what he truly needs.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Astarion stares at you for a while. He leans back, brows furrowed, and you suddenly wonder if you give him enough credit. Perhaps there are things Astarion sees, despite his usual habit of deflecting things with thinly veiled insults.

“Sometimes, there are things that are better left unsaid.” He curls his lip. “Even for Gale.”

You ignore the barb, spinning towards him. “So Gale should just soldier on? Stiff upper lip, the show must go on? Even when he’s falling apart?”

“So dramatic, darling.” He tuts. “Who’s falling apart? He seems fine to me.”

You clench your hands. “The nightmares are getting worse, Astarion. Gods knows what Orin did to him.”

From the feathering of Astarion’s jaw, you know he can guess.

“And he won’t talk to me. Like he doesn’t want to be a burden. Like he’s sorry…” You scoff. “As if it’s his fault, that he’s the one who let me down.”

Astarion narrows his eyes. “If you’re suggesting that it’s your—”

“No, no,” you huff. “No, this isn’t about me. It’s about Gale.”

Astarion sighs. His gaze is weary as a scar.

“Some things are too horrific to share, darling. So atrocious that it’d be a nightmare to even hear them. He just needs to grit his teeth and get through. Survive.”

You struggle to keep the anguish from your voice. “Does he have to do that alone?”

Astarion’s mouth tightens. He averts his gaze. “Maybe that’s what he’s used to.”

You are taken aback by the resignation in Astarion’s words. Conviction rises in you, an unstoppable tide that weaves through the tents of each and every member of the family you have found.

“But he isn’t alone anymore. He doesn’t have to keep it to himself. He isn’t a burden, and there’s nothing he could do or say to drive me away. I’m here for him. We’re all here for him.”

There is a quiver in Astarion’s features. You have a sense of a door cracking open. A glimpse of something ancient and hidden.

“It takes a while,” he says quietly. “To get used to that. To believe it.”

The silence that falls over you is both heavy and light. Within it, a lifetime of loneliness and fear crashes against the battle-forged bonds of love and friendship. And you believe, with every fibre of your being, that love will endure.

Astarion jerks his head behind you. You turn, your eyes filling as they fall on what they seek.

“But if anyone can remind him,” you hear Astarion chuckle, “it’s you.”

*****

When you return to Gale’s tent, you try to settle him, but he is a flurry. His movements drag with exhaustion, yet are manic with determination.

“Is there something I can get you to help you sleep? A cup of tea? A warming spell? Do you need a–”

You embrace him. His breath catches, and you clasp him so close you can feel the points of muscle and bone. The weight of him, the miracle of him beside you. You will never take him for granted.

“Just you,” you whisper. “Here, with me.”

His lips tingle against your neck, his grasp tightening around your waist. For an eternity, neither of you let go. You are haunted by the shadow of your separation, chasing away Orin’s ghost with the strength of your need. When he dips back, his brows are steepled with concern.

“You’re troubled.” He traces his thumb across your jawline. “What troubles you?”

After all this time, he still does not understand. He cannot see how someone could love him so deeply that his pain becomes their own. He still cannot believe that someone could respond to his love by giving him their whole heart. That you could love him as he loves you. An outpouring of the soul. A sacred offering, steadfast and unending.

“That you’re troubled.” Your fingers interlace with his. “That you think your struggles are a burden to me - that I wouldn't want to share everything with you, including your suffering.”

He grimaces so sharply, it is almost a flinch.

“My love,” he heaves. “You quite literally have the weight of the world on your shoulders. It torments me to know I’ve added to that load, rather than easing it. If I weren’t such a fool to fall for Orin’s trap–”

You shake your head. The force of it stills him.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Gale. What happened wasn’t your fault. And what you’re going through now…You don’t have to pretend that everything’s alright. I know it isn’t. I hear it, I see it, every day, every night.”

His eyes widen, the wrinkle between them deepening. You sense the knee-jerk apology that bubbles within him. Your grasp his hand tighter, the words tumbling from you like the sea surging against the shore.

“I love you. I’m here for you. I’ll never abandon you, no matter what happens. You can tell me anything. Everything. Whatever you want. And you can trust me, just like I trust you. Just like I know you love me, and will always be there for me.”

For a while, he does not speak. His gaze roams your face, searching for signs of doubt, hesitation, disapproval. But all you can give him is love.

You draw him back, sinking down to your bed roll. He softens as you curl into each other, his arm wrapping around your body. Your head nestles between his neck and shoulder, and you breathe in the sour tang of his sweat. He inhales deeply, nuzzling into your hair. Memorising you, just as you are soaking him in.

“You kept me alive, you know,” he whispers. “When Orin toyed with me, tore at me. The thought of you, your courage, your kindness. Your love. She could never break me, no matter what vile cruelties she inflicted. I had you.”

Your tears trail into the nook of his collarbone. His voice trembles.

“My foolishness, my carelessness… it could have got you killed. And when you saved me – when, yet again, you saved me from the precipice – I resolved to do better. I told myself the least I could do was cause as little hassle as possible.”

You lurch forward, your vision a blur as you take his face in your hands.

“Gale,” you breathe. “I love you more than anyone and anything. You are not, and will never be, a hassle. A burden. Never. You're the man I love, and you're everything to me.”

His eyes are bright as he brushes away your tears. You watch the shadows lift from his features as the truth of your heart washes over him, wave by wave. Slowly, reverently, he presses a kiss to each of your palms, holding them against his cheeks.

“What have I done to deserve you?”

There is awe in his voice. Wonder. And shimmering within it, the beginnings of acceptance.

You lean forward, circling the tip of his nose with your own. He lets out a shaky breath, his hands weaving around your back, pulling you closer.

“You don't need to do anything. Just be here, with me.”

You smile into each others’ lips, two rivers joining in the sea.

“I can do that.”

********

A/N: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to know what you think as always, so don't be a stranger 🫶

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