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awearywritersworld · 3 months

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the day of my execution

sukuna x reader summary: gojo, yuuji, and sukuna discuss what happened at the store. sukuna begins to consider your mortality like never before and takes care of you when you're sick. w/c: 2.7k tags/warnings: fluff. mentions of attempted kidnapping. banter. reader has the flu. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long, but here is the long awaited next chapter. i've put a second a/n at the end, so i hope you'll read it. please excuse me talking out of my ass trying to rationalize my application of jujutsu, but if gege does it, so can i. i hope it kind of makes sense though. series masterlist // masterlist

truthfully, yuuji expects his wednesday morning to be as uneventful as any other, but when he stands in front of the bathroom sink to brush his teeth, his eyes are not the only ones staring back at him.

"what d'ya want?" he groans. "it's too early for this."

"we need to talk."

sukuna doesn't give his vessel a chance to respond before he begins recounting the events of the previous night, a story which has yuuji's face cycling between surprise, worry, and dismay. "the man claimed someone sent him?"

"that's what i said," sukuna responds impatiently.

"why would anyone be after her? i don't understand."

"would it kill you to use your brain for once?" sukuna questions, having had the entirety of the night to ponder the situation. "think, idiot. who would be interested in using her in some ploy? against you. against... us."

yuuji's eyes widen. "the higher ups?

"no one else would be so brazen."

it strikes sukuna as ironic that just days after he relayed the cruelness he endured at the hands of jujutsu society's higher ups a millenia ago, you too almost became one of their victims. it's a reality that he despises.

"i should call gojo—"

"that is out of the question."

"do you want to keep her safe or not?"

sukuna scoffs. "this is how we keep her safe. if the higher ups are after her, we can't trust other sorcerers."

yuuji almost seems offended on gojo's behalf. after all, he's known him for the better part of a decade. "i'd trust gojo with my life."

"well this isn't your life we're talking about. this is much more important."

yuuji chuckles. "i know. that's exactly why we need help."

before sukuna can protest, yuuji's dialing his old sensei and asking to meet somewhere they can speak privately.

that's how they end up at a small bakery on the outskirts of tokyo, sukuna relaying the story for the second time that morning.

once he finishes, gojo leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "well, i don't think you're wrong about the higher ups being involved."

"so what are we supposed to do?" yuuji asks. "they might use her to get to me, but you don't think the higher ups would actually put her life in danger, do you?"

though yuuji's question is directed toward gojo, it isn't him that answers.

"you're as naive as ever," sukuna scoffs. "they'll stop at nothing to achieve their own ends."

gojo grimaces, a silent agreement with the assertion. "i can do some poking around, see who ordered it to be done."

"and what exactly is that going to do? there's no reasoning with them."

"a fact i am well aware of," the white haired man narrows his eyes at the king of curses. "but there is leverage in power, something i happen to have more of than anybody—"

"almost anybody—"

"so as the strongest, i'll take care of this as soon as i can."

"hey, um, so as productive as all the dick measuring is," yuuji interrupts. "it doesn't keep her safe in the meantime."

"i have an idea in that regard," sukuna says. "it's an ancient practice, and while it doesn't offer any protective measures, it will allow me to find her if they make another attempt like last night."

gojo leans forward, clearly interested to hear more.

"i can imbue a talisman with a part of myself and if she wears it, it will act as a beacon for her location."

"with part of yourself? as in, your cursed energy?" yuuji speculates. "wouldn't that do more harm than good? attract cursed spirits and whatever?"

"no, i'm not a fool. it's not cursed energy."

sukuna is hesitant to clarify further. he'd done something similar when creating his fingers, but it was different then. it was a selfish endeavor to preserve his life long after it was his time to die. it was a dark sort of jujutsu, one meant only to bring destruction.

but intention is important in sorcery. it can change the very essence of the practice.

for the first time in his life, sukuna is acting selflessly, concerned only with your protection. it's a pure sort of jujutsu this time around, one that allows him to impart a piece of himself that isn't tainted by cursed energy.

and because of that, that part of him would be unprotected. it'd leave him uniquely vulnerable. it's a steep and dangerous measure. that's why the practice had been forgotten long before the modern age.

"then what could it possibly be?" it's quiet for a moment as yuuji's question hangs in the air.

"it's your soul, isn't it?" the disbelief lacing gojo's voice is quite plain, but he's heard whispers of such techniques. "you'd give her a piece of your soul."

sukuna's never been one for unfinished business, so it's no surprise when he finds himself on the couch, intent on finishing the stranger. besides, it had become clear he'd been focusing on the wrong aspects of the book when he first began reading it.

he's three chapters from the end when he hears a loud shatter from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp. the broken glass hasn't even finished sliding across the floor before he's at your side.

"what happened?" the alarm in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"nothing, nothing," you assure him. "i just dropped my cup."

crouching down, you reach for one of the bigger pieces before your hand is swiftly smacked away. "don't."

"it's fine. it's only a little glass."

when you reach for it again, he grabs your wrist. "you troublesome little thing. do you ever listen?"

"i don't make a habit of it."

"i know. the question was rhetorical."

sukuna's already noticed the shards of glass surrounding your bare feet, so he wastes no time in picking you up and placing you on the countertop.

"don't move." he says it in such a way that, for once, you don't even think about disobeying him.

he all but stomps out of the room, returning moments later with a broom and dust pan. there's a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him gather the larger pieces before sweeping up the rest.

and you know, it's really not fair. sukuna could even call it a cosmic injustice, the way he has to worry about broken glass and fragile fingertips.

but he likes you and he likes the pads of your fingers, particularly the way they feel against his skin and run through his hair, so he swallows his pride.

it's been consuming him lately— the fact that you are just as easily broken as the glass that littered the kitchen tile. he never considered just how many ways there are for a human to die until you were nearly taken from him.

so once he's done, he rests the broom and dustpan against the wall and stands in front of you, his hips situated between your knees.

reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a necklace and your mouth falls open in shock. a delicate chain is threaded around his fingers, while its ruby pendant dangles in the air. "i want you to have this."

"what.. what is it?"

he snorts. "you don't know what a necklace is?"

you let out a breath of a laugh. "of course i do. i'm just surprised."

you hold up your palm and he places the necklace there gently. inspecting the gem, you notice it bears a striking resemblance to the color of his eyes.

strangely, it's almost as if it's heavier than it should be— like it's weighed down by some importance beyond your comprehension.

"it's beautiful," you tell him honestly. "are you sure?"

"sure of what?"

"that i should have it."

he pauses before responding, taking in the way you're so gingerly holding it. he's scared you've realized what he's actually giving you. that you're repulsed by it.

he's hesitant when he asks, "why would you think otherwise?"

"i didn't do anything to deserve something like this."

sukuna breathes a sigh of relief. "you are ever the fool."

his hands find your hips, pulling you off the counter and onto your feet. he plucks the necklace from your hand, then shifts to stand behind you.

moving your hair to the side, his fingers brush lightly against your skin. "the necklace is undeserving of adorning your neck. not the other way around."

and he knows it's the truth. a piece of him, attached to a creature so lovely she should be out of his reach... well, that's just unseemly, isn't it?

"but promise me something anyway."

"anything," you say without delay.

he situates the chain around your neck, the pendant lying in the space where your collarbones meet, and fastens the clasp. when you turn to face him, you're met with an alarmingly grave expression.

"promise you won't ever take it off."

you fiddle with the ruby somewhat nervously, feeling as if you're missing some important piece of the puzzle.

you nod in response to his request, but it isn't enough for him.

"say it."

"i promise."

he can see that you're biting back questions, so he explains, "if you're wearing that, i'll always know where to find you."

it finally dawns on you, for the first time, how much the incident at the store truly affected him. it's not the way he ended those men that clued you in, nor is it the way he pleaded with you to forgive him.

it happens in this moment. it's the gentleness of his voice, despite his underlying desperation. it's the way he's watching you carefully, as if you're likely to disappear. it's the fact he wouldn't let you clean up a mess of your own making, because he can't stand the thought of seeing you bleed.

"i... i don't know what to say."

"well, that's a first."

"shut up," you punch his shoulder. "you're ruining the moment."

"right, my bad," he chuckles and glances down at the gemstone. "do you like it?"

you let out a breath. "of course. i love it."

he smiles at your words— soft and genuine— truly a rare sight. "good."

you notice that he's looking at you. really looking at you. his eyes shift away from yours and over to each of your temples. then down to your nose. your mouth. even your chin.

he takes in every detail and he feels like he's in your debt simply for gazing at your countenance.

you almost regret it when your hands curl around the collar of his shirt and pull his lips to yours. you should have savored his smile, spent time committing it to memory.

although, that's soon forgotten as you feel the curve of his mouth deepen while his lips move against yours.

it isn't until day three of your ceaseless coughing and sneezing that sukuna adds them to his list— broken glass, fragile fingertips, coughs, and sniffles.

his concern is clear from the way he dotes on you. he brings you cold cloths, makes you tea, massages your neck, runs you baths.

now he's on his way to a twenty four hour pharmacy to pick up more medicine to reduce your fever, and while it's only a block away, he's still doing it alone.

but not even for a moment does he consider running off to burn the world's largest city to the ground. the streets are crawling with people, but he finds himself avoiding them more than anything.

he has to get back to you after all.

the only thought on his mind other than you is the ending of the stranger. the main character, while awaiting his beheading from his prison cell, conveys his final words to readers:

for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, i opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. finding it so much like myself— so like a brother, really— i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators on the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

in sukuna's first life, perhaps this line would have resonated with him. it was a life where he had resolved himself to the idea that nothing really mattered, because the alternative was too painful. it didn't matter that jujutsu society betrayed him. it didn't matter that he stole people's lives out from under them. it didn't matter that he was alone.

and while he would have never surrendered himself to execution, if that had been his fate, he would have preferred to go out surrounded by living reminders of all he had accomplished. surrounded by all the people he had ruined.

however, when he imagines such an occurrence happening in his present life, there is only one face throughout the entire crowd and it belongs to you.

the very thought makes him sick with grief.

looking up, he realizes that there are no stars in tokyo anymore, that there is no feeling of indifference when it comes to you, and that there is no happiness to be had when you are not by his side.

he knows he'll never shed another drop of innocent blood if it means you'll always have that look of adoration in your eyes when your gaze falls on him.

so his trip to the pharmacy is short and hurried.

opening your apartment door, he's careful to be quiet in case you're sleeping, but he finds you peering at him from the couch.

your hair is disheveled. there's a sheen of sweat across your forehead. your eyes are beyond tired. your shirt is wrinkled.

you're still the most pleasing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"you're back," you rasp.

"i'm back," he affirms, slipping off his shoes.

you sit up and quickly regret it, your hand coming to rest against your stomach. "god, i feel like i'm gonna puke."

"charming."

you use all your strength to throw a pillow at him, which he easily catches before tossing something small in your direction— a ginger chew to help with the nausea.

you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth. "thanks."

he hums in response, settling down in the spot beside you. once he pulls the medicine from the bag, it's followed by two bottles. "got you these, too."

recognizing them as your favorite drink, your exhausted and delirious brain makes your eyes well up with grateful tears. "you're so sweet."

"yeah, whatever. don't get used to it."

"but you are. you're sweet and kind, except i'm the only one who knows it," you pause before continuing, your head falling onto his shoulder. "why is that?"

he contemplates denying that he possesses any such quality, but decides against it. "you're the only one who's ever cared to know."

he can feel the heat of your temple through his shirt, so he opens the box of fever reducers and pops out two tablets before handing them to you. "take these. you're burning up."

you do as he says without protest. standing up and stretching your arms above your head, sukuna's eyes wander to where your shirt rides up and reveals your stomach.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you yawn.

he follows after you wordlessly, carelessly pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed beside you. curling up against his side, your head comes to rest on his chest and it's quiet for a few passing moments.

"you can't see the stars from tokyo anymore."

"what?" you ask sleepily.

"the stars. there's too much light to see them from here."

"oh, yeah. we can take a trip to the mountains soon. you can see them pretty well from there."

"i'll hold you to that."

and so with the promise of a beautiful night sky, with the company of someone who means the world to him, and with the feeling of your body pressed against his— sukuna feels that he had been happy and that he was happy again.

a/n 2: hey! so i'm sorry again for stopping updates without really saying anything. i think i just needed to step away from tumblr and writing for a while because i was getting a bit overwhelmed. i was also a little unsure about the direction of this chapter. i was struggling to incorporate the necklace part without it seeming cheesy or weird. that being said, thanks as always to everyone for your support of this series. it's really heartwarming and much appreciated. if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear! i'm not sure when the next update will be, but i'll do my best to keep you guys posted. all my love - m<3

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sunkiss3dlily · 3 months

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to you, i'm just a man (to me, you're all i am) part four | joel miller x reader

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5916

Summary: Time is running out for you in the fight against David. Joel comes to your rescue.

Note(s): Okay, so now it's become five parts. I should just never set a goal for how many chapters I'm writing because I always exceed it hahahaha but at least Joel and reader are reunited!! I'm not gonna lie this took so long to write because I hated writing for David. He is so creepy and I felt so gross. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, and I promise this time, the next chapter will be the last haha! Thank you for all the love I'm so grateful! And as always feedback is appreciated, but please be respectful! Please give me any (detailed, please!) requests in my inbox or comments if you have any, I would love to hear them! Thank you so much for reading! ♡

Taglist: @wonwoosthetic @paleidiot @orcasoul @slut4mascss @paqerings @missladym1981 @oscarisaac2099 @stilllivindue2spite @aspecialgreenie @amyispxnk @caitlynsixxx

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The bitter cold stole your every sense of direction in the relentless blizzard, pushing you to stumble aimlessly through the thick snow, much like you had the day before, only this time you were no longer the hunter but the prey.

All around, the storm howled, and your every step was one of desperation in the search for any sign of David and James' group.

"Stay alert, everybody; if this man's not already dead, he's dangerous." David's voice calling out from the other end of the street had you bolting to hide behind a fence, your rifle clutched steadily in your hand. "And the woman too; she can’t be fully trusted, either."

Clutching your rifle, you took a shaky breath, straining your hearing to catch the next set of orders.

“What about the little girl?” James' voice cut through the harsh wind, and a surge of protectiveness swelled within you at the mention of Ellie. You silently vowed not to let any of them get near her—not one step.

“We bring her back with us." David responds. "Her, and the woman.”

"Try it, motherfucker," you muttered, biding your time as they started advancing down your end of the street, where you remained safely hidden, at least for the moment. There was no need to risk wasting bullets and missing a shot; you had to be smart about this.

A loud scoff cuts through the air, and a voice that you haven't heard before rings out: "That woman will kill us all in our goddamn sleep if we let her stay with us."

"Yeah, I agree," James cuts in soon after. "I don't mean to question your sense of mercy, David, but we can kill the man and the woman and just let the little girl go. If we bring that little girl back with us, she's just another mouth to feed."

You peek out, taking your aim and squeezing one eye shut.

"If we leave either of them out here, they'll die," David chastises, still seemingly set on having you and Ellie come back with him.

As if you'd let that happen.

James scoffed, and as the group approached, you could now count their numbers.

Five.

You watched as James bitterly shook his head, and almost instinctively, you raised your rifle, focusing on the moving target. "Maybe that's God's will."

David's head snapped to look at his taller friend, but before he could speak, your first shot rang out.

James practically folded in on himself, the bullet finding its mark right between his eyes. Genuine shock registered on David's face before a darker expression replaced it just as swiftly. The other four members of the group looked around in utter bewilderment, raising their weapons and expressing a mix of fear, anger, and shock.

"Holy shit!"

"What the fuck do we do, David?!"

"They killed James!"

Too preoccupied reloading your rifle, you didn't notice David's eyes settling on the neck of your gun, which was slightly peeking out from behind the fence.

"Split up. Find the house they're staying in and get that little girl back to me alive. I'll take care of the woman."

As the three scatter in different directions, you finally look up, and that's when you notice David approaching the fence, his own gun at the ready, aimed and dangerous.

You feel it before you hear it—the burning sensation as the bullet rips through your coat and shirt, sinking into the skin of your shoulder. The sickening whoosh of the bullet through the air is only heard after. Had your senses been more in tune, perhaps you would have dodged it. Instead, a muffled cry of pain escapes your lips as you slam them together, forcing yourself into a standing yet crouched position. Running along the back of the fence, you do your best to ignore both the pain and the sensation of your blood coating your fingers, compressing the wound as you move, the rifle held limply in the hand of your injured arm.

"Get back here!"

Your legs turn to jelly as you sprint through the snow, heading straight for one of the houses. Despite the intensifying pain in your shoulder, you strive to keep your cool. Bullets whiz dangerously close to your tattered boots, narrowly missing as you move just a fraction too quickly for David's shooting ability.

“It doesn’t have to be this hard!”

Gasping for breath, you reach cover at the side of a nearby house, pressing your back against the cold exterior. The bitter wind bites at your exposed skin as you take a moment to assess the wound on your shoulder, your fingers coming away stained with blood. You reach back, whimpering to yourself as you feel the unmistakable hole in your shirt and coat, realising that, for one small mercy, the bullet has gone straight through.

"I didn't want to hurt you." David's voice echoes chillingly close, urging you to retreat to the back of the house. As you hastily assess for an entry point, he adds with a sinister tone, "You forced my hand."

Despite the searing pain in your shoulder and the fear gnawing at your senses, a twisted sense of relief settles in as you reach the back of the house. The knowledge that it's you who David is pursuing, and not Joel or Ellie, somehow grants you a twisted comfort.

“There’s no need to keep fighting me like this. It’s pointless.”

With trembling hands, you fumble to open the door, your mind racing faster than your jittery heartbeat.

The wooden door creaks open, revealing the dim interior of the house. Staggering under the weight of pain and panic, you stumble inside, the world spinning as you navigate the all-too-familiar surroundings from when you were desperately searching for any first aid for Joel the day prior, so you already know there is nothing here that is going to help you. The urgency of your situation intensifies, and you quickly slam the door behind you closed.

The house offers a brief respite from the relentless blizzard and the immediate threat of David's pursuit. As you move deeper into the residence, your unsteady footsteps echo against the worn floorboards. The muted sounds of the storm outside contrast with the thunderous beating of your heart.

A narrow staircase comes into view, and with each step, your legs feel heavier, like lead. The ascent is a gruelling task, with your battered body protesting with every movement. As you reach the top, you catch your breath, realising the vulnerability of your situation. You're wounded and isolated, and you're at the mercy of your surroundings and David.

Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you push forward, weaving through the upper floor. The pain in your shoulder becomes an unbearable companion, gnawing at your resolve, and your vision blurs. A distant bedroom beckons, and you stumble towards it, guided more by instinct than conscious thought.

With each step, the world becomes more of a blurry haze. You push the bedroom door open with a light swing, revealing your final refuge from the chaos. Collapsing against the far wall, behind a double bed, you sink to the floor, your breaths ragged and laboured. The room spins around you as you succumb to the exhaustion, your body finally finding a momentary sanctuary amid the turmoil.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The unmistakable echo of a gunshot reached Joel's ears, shattering the relative silence of the basement and snapping him out of the uneasy rest he had slipped into.

It felt like just moments ago that he had watched you leave, resolute in facing danger to protect him and Ellie. The mental image of you willingly sacrificing yourself for their safety wound around his heart like barbed wire, each beat accentuating his feelings of pain and helplessness. Staring at the closed door, he had been consumed by profound desperation, silently yearning for you to turn around and come back to them, to him. But, as the seconds ticked away, it became clear you weren't coming back.

Ellie's eyes had met his, her dark pools of pleading tears watching him as the weight of sleep threatened to pull him under.

"Joel! Wake the fuck up! We have to go!"

Suddenly, Ellie was gripping his shirt, the surge of adrenaline from the shock of it all combatting the heaviness of his slumber. The gunshot's resonance wasn't just a haunting echo of his nightmares about Sarah; it was the stark reality now centred around you. Whether you were the shooter or the one being shot at, Joel couldn't allow himself to stand, or rather lay, by while you faced danger, even in his weakened state.

"Joel!" Ellie repeated, shaking him just as furiously as before. "Fuck, wait a second."

She disappeared from his sight for a moment, peripherals included, and for some twisted reason inside of him, the thought of her leaving too made him even more scared. He couldn't lose both of you.

"Ellie," he called hoarsely.

She was back within a few moments, seemingly fueled by the sound of his voice as she kneeled beside him, syringe and medicine bottle in hand. "Yeah, I'm here. Just give me a minute. I've never done this before."

He held still, barely breathing as the needle pricked his wound once more, not wanting to freak the kid out any more than she already was.

"Ellie," he repeated. Her eyes fell to his as she continued to plunge the syringe slowly, just as she had watched you do so many times. Her dark eyes were still watery and held so much fear that she attempted to hide with her otherwise stoic expression, barring the slight trembling of her lips. "It's...it's gonna be okay."

"Yeah," she nodded, though her gaze fell away from him as if she didn't believe him. "I know."

Silence settled between them, a void that you typically filled. As Ellie withdrew the syringe, returning it along with the medicine to her bag, the echo of a second gunshot pierced the air, prompting them to exchange uneasy glances.

The heavy footsteps from above spurred Joel into action, breaking the inertia that had held him for days. He staggered to his feet, his unsteady legs protesting disuse, and gently guided Ellie into the corner beneath the stairs. Pressing his rifle into her hands, he saw the horror in her eyes. A shake of his head preceded his retrieval of her knife from the bag.

"If anything goes wrong, you shoot and run, alright?" Her mouth opened, but he silenced any objections, his tone unwavering. "No. No questions, no smart remarks. You run."

Joel's voice carried a resolute authority, his eyes revealing a blend of concern and determination. Ellie nodded, her grip tightening on the rifle as she comprehended the gravity of the situation.

The clamour above intensified, muffled voices now accompanied by the crash of furniture in front of the basement door.

Time seemed to stretch as they waited, breaths suspended in anticipation. As the footsteps finally seemed to reach the top of the stairs and the door opened, Joel whispered one final directive, his voice barely audible.

"Face the wall."

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

A tender touch, brushing hair away from your forehead, coaxes you back to awareness. Initially feeling numb, the haze lifts as you blink away blurriness, and the searing pain in your wound snaps into focus. A cry escapes your lips, and instinctively, you reach to cover the injury, as if the pressure could quell the pain. Surprisingly, a make-shift bandage is wrapped around the bare skin of your shoulder, and as you withdraw your hand, you find no fresh blood, only the remnants of dried staining from before.

A fleeting sense of relief washes over you when you suddenly realise someone is taking care of you; you've been saved.

"You were lucky; I'll give you that."

Anticipating Joel's deep, somewhat soothing tone, the sudden and chilling sound of David's higher voice jolted you. Startled, you looked up and blinked rapidly, only to find the devil himself kneeling in front of you, his hand resting on your cheek.

"Getting the jump on us like that. It was smart." He chuckled slightly, unsettling you further, prompting an instinctive flex of your fingers to search for your rifle. It must have been moved, and you think you can see the handle just behind him on the bed. The sheet on top of the mattress appears to be torn, evidently being what was used to conceal your wound. "I won't say it'll earn you many brownie points with the folks back home, but I understand. I understand why you did it."

You draw in a shaky breath, attempting to breathe through the pain and panic, while desperately searching your mind for any semblance of a plan.

David withdraws his hand from your cheek, replacing it with two fingers on your neck's pulse point, holding them there for a moment. "You know, I was worried you weren't going to wake up at all."

You make your best attempt to shrug him off, disliking the sensation of his cold fingertips on your skin. Despite your weakness, you glare up at him and retort, "You should be more worried than I was."

He smiles with a glint of amusement in his eyes, and you despise the gut-wrenching feeling of vulnerability blooming in your chest at the notion of being stuck in this man's presence. A chuckle escapes him, and he sucks his teeth before raising his hand, causing your head to snap to the side as the back of his hand connects with your cheek, a ring on his finger slashing your cheek upon impact.

Stunned to silence, you manage only a few heavy breaths as blood dribbles down your cheek. Eventually, you compose yourself enough to meet his gaze once more.

David releases a heavy sigh, observing you with a gaze that combines pity and satisfaction as he sits back on his knees.

“I like you. I do."

You glare back at him, biting back a snide comment.

He smiles, releasing a soft chuckle. “You’re so much different from the women back in my village. They’re so docile, complacent, and scared of their own shadows. You, on the other hand, are feral. Violent. A murderer.”

You swallow uncomfortably, unsettled by the excited glint in his eyes as he gazes at you.

“I like that. It’s realistic. A woman who does what she has to do to get what she wants. It’s the only way to survive, right?” David smiles, reaching out to clasp your limp hand that sits on your lap. “We’re very similar in that way. We do what we have to do to provide for the people who rely on us. No matter what, right?”

You fight the urge to snap his fingers in your palm, feeling his thumb stroking roughly over your skin, a poor imitation of Joel's comforting touch from only hours ago.

“You see, I’m not your enemy here.” He whispers in an attempt at a soothing tone. “I never have been. In fact, I am your equal, and in being that, I believe you would make the perfect addition to stand by my side in leading our people through the darkness that this winter has brought.”

You shake your head, but he raises a hand and emits a shushing noise.

“I know. It’s a hard concept to grasp when you’re in this fight-or-flight headspace. I’m sure you feel you won’t be accepted by them for all your sins and for all the heartache you’ve brought to our community, but they, as well as you, will come to understand, in good time, that reformation is indeed possible.” He squeezes your hand tight—so tight that it becomes uncomfortable very quickly. You breathe your way through the pain. “And if you can’t, then you can provide for our community in another way.” He lifts his other hand to lift your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “My people are hungry, you see. I wouldn’t be a good leader if I didn't do what I needed to provide for them, despite sacrificing what would be the closest thing I have to my equal. You understand the necessity of that, right?”

A sickening feeling churns in your stomach. Whatever he has in mind for you is likely nothing you want to endure. You bite your tongue, resolved to maintain composure and conceal your fear.

“And then, I suppose, your daughter will be the one to take your place beside me.”

Your entire body tenses, and he seems to notice the fire blazing in your eyes at the mention of Ellie, a light smirk settling on his lips.

Quick to wipe it off, you wrap your palm around his middle finger and tug it back with all the strength you can muster, causing a sickening crack as it breaks, ricocheting around you. He lets out an anguished cry of pain, filling you with relentless satisfaction. As he releases your hand entirely, you shove him backward and use the wall to guide you to your feet.

Rushing for your rifle, your movements are short-lived as you feel his hand wrap around your ankle, grabbing hold of you. Swinging your arm around to hit him, he tugs you forcefully via your arm, causing you to flop face down on the floor beside him.

Releasing angry pants, he flips you over onto your back and uses his free hand to press down on your wound, keeping you down and eliciting a cry of unbearable pain from your lips.

“There it is. There’s that fight in you I like so much.”

You spit at him, aiming directly for his face, and raise your knee to strike him in the crotch. He releases your wound, and you take a sharp intake of breath, readying your hand to deliver a strike to his face. But he's too quick, grabbing your wrist and yanking it hard, exerting so much force that you feel your arm being ripped out of its socket.

A blinding wave of pain overwhelms you, bringing all your struggles to an instant halt. Your pain threshold has been entirely depleted. You're done fighting. It's all too much.

He clears his throat as he shifts to hold himself above you, his gaze a mix of satisfaction and disappointment as he looks down at you.

“Is that all you’ve got in you?” He laughed breathlessly. “I’m disappointed. Underneath all that strong facade, you’re just the same as every other woman. Weak. I should’ve known you’d end up just the same: under my mercy."

Your strength waned, unable to conceal the overwhelming fear as his weight bore down on you, and instead, you opened your mouth, releasing a gut-wrenching scream.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

It was guttural—the scream that tore through the streets—and it sent a shiver down Joel's spine. Ellie was huddled at his side, his arm protectively encircling her, marking the first substantial contact between them. The moment he tensed, he felt her reaction mirror his own.

Joel held tight to Callus' reins in his other hand. Although logic dictated that he and Ellie should be riding towards your safety, the events in the basement lingered in Joel's mind. Forcing two out of three men to reveal your whereabouts, even with Ellie upstairs and out of direct earshot, it had been a traumatic ordeal for the both of them. Joel couldn't deny Ellie the comfort of being close to him after such a harrowing experience. Contrary to his initial fears, it became evident that Ellie wasn't terrified of him; in fact, the very opposite seemed true.

'"That's her," Ellie said through chattering teeth as the biting winds whipped around them. "We have to help her."

Joel nodded, his gaze firm and determined, tugging Callus along once more. "We will. We'll get to her."

Once again, your scream, fraught with fear and desperation, reverberated through the desolate streets. The chilling sound momentarily froze time, leaving Joel feeling utterly helpless about where to go or how to reach you. The haunting silence that followed became almost unbearable, casting an oppressive weight on Joel's chest, which he tried to ignore with every stride he took, Ellie in tow.

Abruptly, just as it had ceased, your screaming resumed, and Joel couldn't summon the strength to look down, yet he could feel Ellie's tears soaking his shirt. Each agonising note sliced through the air, and this time, it seemed to pierce Joel even more deeply than before. The raw, visceral sound of your distress clawed at his heart, dismantling any remaining walls that held back his emotions towards you. He despised that sound—the sound of you in pain, the sound of you scared, the sound of you broken—and silently vowed to do whatever it took to never hear it again.

However, amidst the torment, there existed a perverse sense of gratitude. Your screams served as a guiding force, leading Joel, Ellie, and Callus through the relentless blizzard in pursuit of you. A steely resolve tightened Joel's jaw, determination etched across his weathered face as you fell silent once more, only to start screaming again seconds later. The idea of you enduring suffering was unbearable, and an urgency to reach you surged through Joel's veins, propelling their movements forward through the biting cold.

Reaching the front of the house from which your screams echoed, Joel gently pulled away from Ellie's trembling frame. He tried to ignore the way she instinctively sought to move closer, holding her by the shoulders. "I need you to listen to me, Ellie."

Her face was pale, tear-stricken, and concerned, lacking the strength to argue. She nodded in response.

"I need you to ride Callus to the furthest house away, to the very last one in this neighbourhood, okay? Not one sooner. The very last one."

Her lips parted, wobbling, but your scream from above tore every word from the tip of her tongue. She made her way to Callus, placing one foot in the stirrup before Joel helped launch her onto the horse completely. He held back a wince as his wound ached with every movement, and raised his rifle for her to take.

"I'll come and find you as soon as we're out. You don't leave for anything. You stay right there, hidden, until we come back. Got it?"

Ellie took the rifle, slugging it onto shoulder, before gripping Callus' reins and nodding. "Got it."

"Good." He hummed, stroking Callus' side before meeting Ellie's eyes. "Go on."

She simply sniffled, murmuring, "Let's go," to the horse before she and Callus thundered off down the street.

Joel watched as Ellie rode away, his rifle slung over her shoulder, and as he turned back towards the house, it took him about a second to realise you were no longer making any noise, and it only took half of that time to send him into utter panic.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The carpet beneath your fingernails was the only sensation you registered as David's hand coiled around your throat, tightening its grip and stifling any more attempts at screaming.

You weren't fighting back anymore. You couldn't. You'd lost it all the moment David had you pinned down and injured. The likelihood of Joel succumbing to the brutality of David's men gnawed at your conscience. Imagining Ellie, now alone and convinced you were lost too, fighting desperately to escape their clutches added another layer of anguish to your already shattered resolve. You didn't want to risk that becoming a truth, and so you just lay there.

Time seemed to stretch with each agonising blink, your eyes lingering shut for longer intervals. As David's suffocating grip on your throat gradually released, you struggled to focus through the haze. His lips moved, likely weaving a twisted soliloquy, but the only sound that reached you was the persistent thud of blood coursing through your veins. Each breath you managed to draw felt like a desperate attempt to refill your lungs, your chest heaving with the effort.

His vice-like grip on your neck finally released, and as you dared to steal a glance downward, all you saw was his hand moving towards his zipper.

You clutched at the carpet, fingers digging in, and drew in a wheezy breath, steeling yourself for whatever might come next.

David's face and body loomed over you, paralysing you with fear. Just as you thought it was all over, the sudden impact of your rifle against the side of his head sent his looming figure crashing to the floor beside you. Through the haze of your vision, you could vaguely make out a blurry figure in a brown coat gripping your rifle and ruthlessly slamming it down repeatedly onto what appeared to be David's body.

Unable to discern many words, you could only catch snippets of angry and pained sounds. Fear gripped you, but in a moment of reprieve, you managed to turn on your side. For perhaps the first time since you woke up, you felt a semblance of relief, as if you could finally afford to breathe again.

Your body ached, and your lungs burned with each precious breath of fresh air, reminiscent of a dog lapping up water on a scorching day. Curled into a foetal position, the only sounds that reached your ears were the haunting echoes of sniffles and whimpering. It didn't take long for you to grasp the painful realisation that those anguished sounds were escaping your own lips.

A hand gripping your ankle jolts you into immediate action, fearing the worst. A distressed wail escapes your lips as you kick out, refusing to glance at the person who has a hold of you. Slowly crawling away, you use your uninjured arm to support yourself, doing your best to fight the searing pain flowing through you.

The hand lets up, and then it moves to land delicately on your back. Gentle and light, it hovers, assuring you of his presence.

Everything seems to move once more in slow motion as you continue to kick out, eventually flipping onto your side and meeting your would-be assailant's eyes once more.

Except it's not David.

It's Joel.

His lips are parted, and he is speaking to you softly. His face is taut with concern, distress, and fear.

"..'s me; it's just me. It's me."

The sound of relief escaping you doesn't come close to the immense relief flooding your insides.

As Joel senses the realisation dawning in your eyes, his expression eases slightly, a fraction of his concern dissipating.

You can't help but avert your gaze, your eyes falling upon David's battered body lying a short distance away. The butt of your rifle, stained with his blood, rests by his side. It's evident that Joel has discarded it and hurried to your aid.

His touch on your cheek is gentle, coaxing you to meet his gaze once more.

"Look at me," he urges, his voice a comforting murmur. "You're okay. You're with me. Just keep your eyes on me. Keep focusing on me."

Your lip trembles. "J-Joel...he…he…”

"I know," he murmurs softly, his face etched with pain as he gently covers your hand with his own on the floor. The gesture makes you flinch involuntarily, and memories of David flood your mind. "I know, honey. I know."

Honey.

The term is uttered with such tenderness, so delicately, that it catches you off guard. His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he regards you with the utmost care, as if he can hardly believe he's reached you in time.

Tears stream down your cheeks, unnoticed, until you feel his arms enveloping you. It's surprising the sheer gentleness emanating from a man hardened by years of violence, his fists having shed blood from countless adversaries. Yet here he is, cradling you as though you're the most precious gift, as if it's the most natural thing for him to do, as though he was born to love and protect you, no matter the time it took for him to realise it.

His hand finds solace in your matted hair, anchoring you to him as you weep against his chest. For a long while, he remains silent, allowing your sorrow to seep into him as if, by some miracle, it might alleviate your pain. You feel a shift in his posture, and then his chapped lips brush gently against your forehead.

Drawing back slightly from the comfort of his embrace, you meet his gaze.

"You're... you're alive," you breathe out softly.

The corners of his lips twitch up a little, and he nods gently down at you. "Your stubborn ass saved me, remember?"

"I... I had to. I couldn't... couldn't lose you," you respond, still teary-eyed. Your gaze darts around frantically for a moment. "E—Ellie? Where's Ellie? Did they get Ellie?"

Joel shakes his head quickly. "We... I got 'em, I swear. They didn't touch her. She's safe."

"They... they were really bad people, Joel," you whisper, a slight desperation in your voice, as if you need him to believe you, though you have no idea why you feel the need to justify it. "Really bad. They... they... the things he wanted to do."

Your gaze starts to drift back to David's body, but Joel gently redirects your focus to him with a tender touch on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the blood from where David's ring had cut your skin. "No, no. Don't look at him, alright? Just keep looking at me and listening, okay? Focus right here on me and me only."

You nod, your attention fixed on him.

“You did good, sweetheart. You did so good. You saved me and Ellie, and…and you’re still here with us. It was always going to be your life over any of theirs. You did what you had to do.”

Weakly, you nod and rest your trembling hand on his arm.

He glances down at your hand, resting his own atop it, and takes a breath. Using the next few moments to assess your condition, he notices the blood-soaked sheet wrapped around your shoulder, his face paling considerably. Then, his gaze falls on the swollen part of your arm where David has torn it from its socket.

He releases your hand and rises to his feet, prompting a soft cry of his name from you, as if he might leave you in that state.

"I'm right here. You're okay," he assures you, reaching down to cup your cheek. "I just need to... I need to help you. You're hurt, sweetheart. Just keep your eyes on me. I'm not going anywhere; I just need to..."

Glancing over to the bed, where the ripped sheet lies, he reluctantly lets go of you and strides over to retrieve it. Returning to your side, he offers reassurance. "See? I'm still here."

You watch him carefully as he tears the fabric apart with his bare hands, studying his every move.

"Joel," you say softly at first, catching his attention only when you repeat his name with a bit more urgency.

"Yeah, what's up?" He responds, turning to you.

"I'm... I'm glad you're here."

His worried expression softens, though concern still lingers in his gentle brown eyes. After a moment's pause, he replies, "Me too, honey." Taking a breath, he continues, "Now, I'm gonna ask you to do something for me, okay?"

You weakly nod your agreement.

"Just stay still while I see what I can do about your arm, alright?" he instructs.

He shakily reaches over to lightly press your swollen, deformed-looking arm, retracting his hand almost immediately when you cry out in pain. The anguish in his eyes mirrors your own hurt, and once the wave of pain has passed, you grasp his coat with your uninjured hand, murmuring your apologies.

"It's okay, it's okay," he reassures you softly, cupping your cheek and meeting your gaze with his intense one. "I need you to trust me for a second, okay? This is going to hurt, but you are going to be just fine, I promise. Everything's going to be okay."

Tears brim in your eyes, but you nod. "I trust you, Joel."

He smiles softly at you, leaning forward to press a kiss on your head before he reaches out and takes your injured arm's hand in his own. With a shaky breath, he asks, "Can you feel that?"

You nod with a sniffle.

"Good. That's good." He squeezes your hand gently. "And you feel that?"

Again, you nod.

He squeezes once more, meeting your eyes. "Still with me?"

Another nod.

Taking a breath, he squeezes for the third time, a nervous expression clouding his face.

It takes you a moment to process his confession as pain overwhelms you. But when you realise what he has said, everything stops hurting for a moment, and a relieved tear slips down your cheek.

He smiles weakly back at you.

And then he tugs.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

"Almost there, sweetheart," Joel murmurs, his hand light on your back as he guides you through the blizzard, mindful of your delicate state. "I've got you."

Your injured arm is cradled in a makeshift sling, and a fresh bandage, fashioned from the same sheet, is carefully tied over your bullet wound. Despite the lingering pain, being with Joel feels like a balm to your soul, as if you're walking on air. The thought of being reunited with Ellie soon fills you with hope, giving you the strength to keep moving forward, despite the weariness weighing down your legs.

Every little noise puts you on edge, whether it's the howl of the wind or the thud of snow against a roof. But Joel is there, a reassuring presence, whispering words of comfort each time you tense up, trying to reach for a weapon and inadvertently causing yourself more pain.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay," Joel assures as you come to reach the last few houses on the road, the sight of horse prints visible in the snow-covered ground. "Look behind us; look around. There is no one here but us. No one is going to hurt you, I promise."

You look around nervously, seeing that he is right. You are simply overwhelmed by paranoia right now.

“No one is going to hurt you,” Joel repeats gently, a change from his usual tone but a welcome one. You've never felt safer.

You nod, scooting closer to him all the same.

The horse tracks lead up to the final house on the road, and Joel is grateful that Ellie followed his instructions this time.

He shuffles as slowly as you need up the short distance of the porch steps, and when you both reach the top and you begin to lose your ability to keep moving forward, he wraps your uninjured arm around his neck and keeps you moving. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re just tired, that’s all. You’re going to rest as soon as we get inside, alright? Talk to me; let me know you’re still in there.”

“Still here..." you assure quietly, though your vision is beginning to blur and darkness is beginning to form in your peripherals.

“Atta girl, stay with me.” He presses a gentle hand over your ear and pushes the other to rest against his chest. He raises his voice, though muffled to you, as he kicks the front door as he has no hands free. “Ellie! Open up! It’s us!”

By the time the door opens, you are halfway through succumbing to the darkness.

©️sunkiss3dlily, 2024.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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writing-in-the-impala · 7 months

Text

Secret Smokes (Part 2)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship (but like it’s all legal chill), SLOWburn we’re in for a long ride

Word Count: 2267

A/N: Thank you for all the love on part 1, every nice comment gives me the motivation to keep posting!

This story takes place in a AU where Harry's parents are still alive so Remus Lupin still has all his friends and there is no war however that doesn't make him any less angsty. Everything else is pretty much the same as the canon universe! Enjoy!

| SERIES MASTER LIST | Previous Chapter, Part 2, Next Chapter

GIF by stephanieromanoff

The next day in class it felt like you and Lupin had your own little secret, when you walked in you could feel his eyes on you immediately, he smiled gently when your eyes met. After that there were no other abnormal interactions between the two of you, which in a way you felt great full for as you didn't want to feel uncomfortably in his lessons like you had something to hide. That evening you went back to the bridge to find Professor Lupin standing in the exact same place. "I didn't know you were such a creature of habit profesor." You said as a greeting.

"You obviously don't know me." He smiled gently at you. "When I was at Hogwarts I used to come to this very spot when I wanted some alone time. I had some of the best cigarettes of my youth in this very spot." He explained.

"Now that's not fair because this is where I've always gone to smoke. I think you need to leave Hogwarts profesor this bridge is not big enough for the two of us."

"Shame, I bought Camel Gold today." He pulled out the packet to show you.

"What I've only tried Camel Blue, can I have one." You asked on excitedly.

"I know as your teacher I should be worried by how much you just got excited over a cigarette packet but as a human I think it's funny." He said honestly.

"So can I try one?" You asked and he passed you one. "How come you've got muggle smokes?" You asked him.

"I prefer them, they have a camel on them." He shot a wink your way and you laughed.

"No but seriously, I thought wizards didn't think muggle ones were good enough." You asked.

"People just say that to sound better than muggles, I like to be honest. For example the people who refuse to read muggle books... they're missing out on some of the best literature they'll ever read because they're elitist." You liked this side of your Professor.

"Professor Lupin, I think you just became my favourite teacher." You said.

"You became my favourite student when you gave me a smoke." He shot another wink at you as he stood leaning back on the wood, with hands in his pockets looking at you.

"You're not supposed to have favourites you know." You teased him. He raised his eyebrows in shock and shot back. "You're not supposed to smoke on school grounds, you know." You laughed and he took another drag while smiling. Not much else was said, he finished his cigarette checked his watch like the night before and said he should get back, then echoing once again that you should make your way back to your dorm so you don't get in trouble for wandering the halls.

You watched him walk away, he had one hand in his pocket, never looking back at you as he walked into the darkness. You followed after he left your site and walked back to the common room. When you entered Percy was sitting reading a book near the door almost as if he was waiting for you. "What time do you call this L/N?" He said mockingly.

"Shut it Weasley." You replied sitting down beside him.

"Has Y/N gotten a new boyfriend already?" He asked lifting his eyebrow.

"No nothing like that Percy, my dear boy, you have nothing to worry about." You said resting a head on his shoulder.

"I know you attract trouble Y/N, both in boys and just how you like to spend your time." Percy began to gently lecture you.

"Are you my dad Percy?" You asked poking him.

"Y/N, I know you want a muggle job but please don't spend all your messing around with some boy and pulling pranks." He continued.

"Okay Percy this is not becoming a fun conversation, I was just having a smoke." You said.

"That's another thing you need to-" Percy began as you stood up and walked away.

"Is Percy lecturing you?" Fred said as he entered the room.

"Yup, telling me no to pranks and boys." You pouted and Percy rolled his eyes.

"He's just jealous, but we all know if you went for a Wesley you'd be choosing me or George not Percy." He said with a wink.

"You all disgust me, I'm going to bed." You said before leaving the room. You knew Percy was right and cared but you just wanted a pain free last year. The Weasley boys all cared for you a lot, they were like you wizard family, you even joined them on holidays sometimes. They were a welcoming family and whoever the children befriend would always be welcome in their home. Over summer you went camping with the Weasley family, Harry Potter joined and so did Hermione Granger. You got along with Hermione quite a lot as you shared many similarities, however she happily immersed herself in the wizarding world unlike you. Even though she was younger than you she always felt like someone you could have real conversations with. You considered yourself a friendly person but apart from the Weasley twins and Hermione you didn't have anyone else you could have truly deep conversations with, not even Percy as he worries too much.

You fell asleep thinking about Percy's words, however in the morning against his wishes you decided to skip most of your lessons. After breakfast you went outside to sit by the lake with a book, missing your first two lessons of the day. You decided to attend potions as you enjoyed it and found it a useful skill, when you entered the class Percy gave you a sad smile of disappointment. "Are you okay?" He simply asked instead of grilling you about skipping all the previous classes. "My mind was foggy when I woke up, I needed some air." You said and he gave you a nod.

"You can borrow my notes." He said and you thanked him. "You know Y/N, if you need to talk I'm here. If your brain is being difficult this year again we can help you through it." He continued sounding a bit too much like a teacher.

"It's fine it's just that feeling of being out of place again now that I'm back-" you began before Snape interrupted with "L/N. Weasley. Is your conversation more important than my class?"

"Sorry profesor." Percy and you quickly replied cutting your conversation short. Snape decided to keep you back after class to take away 5 points each and to tell you how important it is for you to focus this year words that made you want to roll your eyes. When you left you were already late for DADA. "Are you coming?" Percy asked and you shook your head no, he didn't ask any questions and just nodded his head. You walked back to the common room where you bumped into Fred and George who where also skipping, the three of you spent the time chatting and playing games and showing off trick to each other and didn't attend a single lesson for the rest of the day. You even had time to plan out a new minor prank and make plans to go to the three broomsticks soon as you need to go shopping for supplies for your prank anyway. In the evening you were in the common room mentally debating if you should head to the bridge today to meet Lupin as you did in fact miss his lesson, and if he sees you, you can't lie about being ill. You opened the Marauders map to check his location and noticed he was walking towards the bridge, you knew you can explain your way out of not being in his lesson today and that you wanted not only to smoke but also to talk to him so you headed to join him. As you approached he was in his usual spot leaning looking out as always, but today he wasn't smoking as you approached, he was waiting for you. You walked down the bridge towards him and he stood up straight and smiled taking out the cigarette out his pocket and offering you one as soon as you were an arms length away. "I feel bad taking yours." You said with a smile as you took one of your own out.

"I don't mind." He said gently. "Besides I like the company when I smoke, so it's in my interest for you not to smoke your whole stash before Christmas." He said knowingly.

"I can tell you've been through the pain of being a student that's addicted to nicotine." You said as you both lit your cigarette, he did it wand free you did it with a physically lighter.

"Weeks seem extremely long when you've run out and you know you're leaving Hogwarts in a week but it means a week with not a single smoke."

"Asking other to bump theirs." You added

"But they're all out too." He finished.

"You're a pro." You said with a smile making him laugh. Silence fell upon you before he spoke first.

"Did I do something to offend you Y/N?" He asked shocking you.

"What? No? Why?" You asked in confusion.

"You didn't attend class today." He simply stated turning to face you.

"Oh. That's nothing personal towards you profesor, I only attended one class today." You simply stated.

"Were you feeling ill? I'm sure Madame Pomfrey-" He began, giving you a perfect opportunity to lie.

"No." You simply said resulting in a surprised look from Lupin. "I just simply don't see the point in attending classes." You explained and he gave you a puzzled look encouraging you to explain, you looked away from him into the distance before speaking. "I'm getting a muggle job. So these exams mean nothing for my future."

"How can you be sure you'll never want a job in the wizarding world?" He questioned.

"Because I don't feel welcome by it. I'm an outsider, and I've always felt like wizards are afraid of me because I grew up as a muggle." You explained.

"You know there's many great witches and wizards who are muggle born. My mother was a muggle and I was raised in a mostly non-magic household."

"And do you feel welcome? Do you feel like they don't have prejudice against you and fear you?" You questioned and you could see you had gone too far as he looked taken aback and had a sad look on his face. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that." You added.

"No, it's okay. Yes I do feel those feeling sometimes, more than you would imagine... for many reasons not just because of my parents. But I don't think that can control what you do. If you don't learn magic to your best abilities they win. They don't want you to know things like potions and defence against the dark arts because they're scared you and many other great wizards will stand up for the underdog. However if we don't learn this stuff, we let them win. Who will protect muggles during dark times, if not great witches like you?" He became very emotional and was the one to nearly say sorry this time but you responded before he could.

"You know professor, you make a good point." You said looking down in embarrassment as he was correct and you felt guilty for all the lessons you missed and the knowledge you could've gained. "No one ever put it like that... I've always been told but what if you want to work in magic, but I never thought about who is protecting the people who can't fight magic with magic." You continued.

"Since I was a child I hated magical beings, they scared me." Lupin began, opening up. "But i realised we can do amazing things, cure diseases, protect innocent lives all through magic, to completely block it out of your life because some horrible kids don't treat muggle born wizards kindly would be a mistake, instead spite them and learn more than them so you can protect people against them." He said, everything felt very personal and you appreciated his words even if he was saying it all just because he's your teacher.

"Thank you for that professor, that's probably the best advice I've heard from any teacher in this school." You admitted.

"I'd like to see our conversations as more than just a teacher talking to his student but as a friendly discussion, as I think sometimes bright young women like yourself need someone to talk to them honestly. I know I wish someone had a conversation like that with me when I was in your place." He said with a kind smile at the end. "Anyway, I must get back and so must you as I've talked for a bit too long and it's quite a bit past your curfew." He said checking his watch. "Would you like me to escort you back so you don't get in trouble for wandering the halls at night?" He offered.

"It's okay professor, I know how to sneak out after dark and not get caught." You said with a smile and he laughed softly.

"I'm sure you do." He shook his head as if to say that he knows it's wrong he's allowing you to smoke and sneak around at night but he finds it humorous. "Good night Y/N." He said before walking away. "Goodnight Professor Lupin."

NEXT CHAPTER!

#student x teacher #harry potter #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #professor lupin x reader #remus love you #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #teacher! remus lupin #the maruaders #secret smokes

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funficwriter · 7 months

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A Wolf and A Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

Letters' Interlude - 1

A/N: So these aren't official chapters per say, just an extra to the story that explores the yandere dynamic I'm trying to put forth! Also, I love listening to romantic music while writing for this 🩵 Until I finish Chapter 2, enjoy!

Synopsis: Being a noble meant that marriage was a chess game, not an affair of love. Unfortunately for the pristine Balthazar family of Fontaine, Y/N has long been enamored with love and sought it out before their priorities. After her grey, boring time of courtesy and fake niceness, she meets Duke Wriothesley, who makes her yearn for the first time in her life, and it's the same for him. Threatened by the idea of losing this first, it seems they'll stop at very little to be together...

Warnings: Obsessive yandere language, graphic details in Wriothesley's.

Tag: @yue-caelum

From: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Vacation Manor, Belleau Region, Fontaine

To: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

Dearest Duke,

I am not quite sure how to begin or structure my thoughts, so I hope you forgive me if this letter turns out messy. It's barely been 24 hours since our fateful meeting and I finally got some privacy. I should interest you in the fact that today's tea is Earl Grey. I'm having it right now, accompanied by a chocolate and strawberry mille-feuille. If you're ever feeling bold, I'd recommend this combination. Quite the contrast on the taste buds.

I realized that even with our cadence and how we enjoyed chatting together, there's still so much to know. How have you been doing? I'm presuming you're at the Fortress. How is life there? How do you spend your days there? Is it a lot of work? You told me a bit of the nurse. Sigewinne, if I recall correctly. Does she have a lot of patients? And what tea do you drink when you're feeling so tired and done with the world? (I'm partly asking this one for myself. Some days are like that.).

Though I must say, since Liffey is a bit far from Romaritime or the Court's region, you must have a good teleportation waypoint. Belleau is far, too, but by Focalors' name it is enjoyable. It's quiet, lush and lovely. The water is so nice to swim in too. I find that regular swimming is one of the most beautiful parts of my day. I might be heading into more dangerous territory saying this, but I believe you'd enjoy it a lot if I took you with me. If you had a day off and I showed you around, we could then swim in one of the lakes. It's so refreshing and fun, and a good break from the city.

Don't get me wrong; I love its bustle and life. But I know when we return, I'm going to have to look over these boring nobles' declarations, and meet with them more often. Speaking of which, I'm sorry to sound so forward, but... Well, are you interested in carrying this further?

I'd like to tell you something about my worldview. As you know, I read a lot, but last night I couldn't get into the 'why' due to mother's timing. As a child, I felt strangely bored with existence, maybe to a worrying point. That would explain my parents' fretting. I liked the dance and violin lessons, but there was something about my books that gave my gray life a bit of color. Unfortunately, having to come back to real life was a painful must. There were times where I thought to myself: "Is this really life? Boring, plain, and feeling wrong for watching everyone's intense reactions while I derived joy from so few things?". I didn't even want to think about my future as I become a woman. This was all before we met.

Ah, Wriothesley! I've been imagining it over and over in my head! I even stood outside in the cold and closed my eyes and pretended you were right next to me... Imagine my pain when I confronted reality, mixed with the excitement I felt remembering you! Even now, I can't stop kicking my feet as I write this. For the very first time, I was proven wrong. I was mistaken about life, and who said mistakes were bad? After years of chasing perfection, believing it was beauty and goodness... Why, I might have committed the most beautiful fault in existence!

Will you please prove me wrong again? I know I might get greedy and stick to my old worldview, just for it to happen again. But I swear, I'll be good and I'll stop. I just want to feel my entire body and soul rattling in excitement once more. And you're the only one that happens with.

Mother and Father are planning another social, soon after we return to the Court's region. My understanding says you're not often social, so if you don't want any part of it (or even, if I'm being too intense), discard this letter. I must go now, but if you're as invested as I, I will be awaiting a response. And if Celestia is kind, I will be open for more. I'll be open for anything if it's with you.

Yours truly,

Lady Y/N Balthazar

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

To: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Vacation Manor, Belleau Region, Fontaine

To my cherished Lady,

I would like to start off by expressing my most feverish thanks, for reasons beyond enumeration. You taking the time to send me this lovely letter is the least of them. It is generally good form for a Duke to answer quick when he can, but I was so overjoyed with your letter's contents, I re-read it many times to take in all the joy you graced me with. I was also very touched with your personal confiance in me, so I'm also writing to return the favor.

First off, do you know how much I yearn to hear about your day, down to the little details? You talked a good deal about Belleau. I didn't care much about that region before, but now? All I've been thinking about is those fresh waters and woods you praised so highly. The only imagination I entertained was you, holding my hand, whispering that there were no nosy gossipers or greedy parents. Just the two of us, and the lake was all ours to swim in until we couldn't.

If it makes you laugh, I thought about it so much, I almost mistakenly wrote some prisoners' region tab as Belleau. Had Sigewinne not been near, the administrative mistake would have been a pain to fix. Are you laughing? I hope for it with all my heart.

And I want to know more. I want to know whether Earl Grey is your favorite, or you're only taking it because it's been brewed at that time. I want to know which chocolate you like best. Which books you're currently reading, and why you're so interested in lycanthropes without a hint of discrimination. Will you tell me more? If we get the chance to talk with less barriers, will you enlighten me with you?

After getting to know your old worldview, I question just how alike we are. It's easy for two people to share superficial interests. But when one feels so dissected, so naked knowing about another's deeper life and secrets, you can't help but question whether Celestia really does link souls. Whether you once knew them, or whether fate can be so perfect to send such a person your way. I'm sure you felt terrified writing it. Your mailbox may be private, but who knows when your family feels nosy and reads it? You know of the risks that come with such correspondence, especially as a maiden. Despite that, you didn't throw it into the trash. You wrote it, and sent it to me, letting me know about you. You may have just intoxicated me, and now I feel like I might die if that is all I know of you.

As respect to this, I'll confide in you, only it may be a little graphic. "If you feel queasy after this, feel free to end our correspondence here."... Is what I wish I could say with full honesty, because after that night, I'm not sure whether I can really be okay with that outcome.

I used to commit crime, both petty and serious. Such was the life of an orphan at the time. Being little fish wasn't an option; You had to be the top dog or get eaten alive. I opted for the first, even if it landed me in prison later on. My convictions range quite a bit, but once I grew up, I renounced crime. Even insignificant things. I wanted to leave that behind me.

Forget the obvious stealing sweets from the kitchen. When I saw that slimy Duke Arya talking to you, touching your shoulder, acting as if he always knew you and your wedding was tomorrow, I never felt the urge to murder as much as I did that night. The reasons behind my old violent crimes felt so small next to the ugly sight in front of me. You clearly didn't want him, but he kept going, as if you'd magically change your mind and be into slimeheads like him. How dare he be the reason you were pulled apart from me? Where does he get the gall to take you, act like you're owed to him if your parents decided?

How I wanted to end his pathetic standing, laughing, breathing. How I wanted to use my vision and punch his head out into an ice block, then freezing his wrangling body so he wouldn't mess up the carpet. How I wanted to lunge at him, bite, claw and make a bloody mess out of him. What did it matter if I perpetuated half-wolf stereotypes, when he was doing this? Which would hurt him more? Only one idea stopped me: You might not react to a show of violence so well. Oh, if I traumatized you, I'd never forgive myself. Being sent back to jail would be too light a punishment for a beast like that.

Please don't worry about transport, or ask about my attendance. I'm determined to attend that social. I'm so happy you told me about this in advance; I'm going to be seeing you, in all your radiance and beauty that make the world pale. So long as that happens, all is well for now. In the meantime, I'm adding some final touches to my declaration, and eagerly waiting for our next meeting, and hopefully the time I can freely take you into my arms, kiss you and prove the both of us wrong about everything.

With all the love I can hold,

Duke Wriothesley

#genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere wriothesley #yandere wriothesley x reader #yandere reader #yandere fontaine x reader

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awarmbowlofhomemadesoup · 5 months

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How to Build Resilience in Long Fanfic Writing

Sometimes, when a fanfic goes past 20 chapters, people who had been commenting, began to lose interest. Maybe you'll start doubting your skill or whether you "have what it takes" to be a writer, even if you're doing it for fun.

But maybe you see all those beautifully written but unfinished long fics and mourn that they'll never be finished (for the writer's valid reason or another). And you don't want that to happen to yours.

There is also an advantage to completing long fics: you develop the discipline to write original novels which can take far longer.

So if you're in for the long haul and you want to stay steady and true despite whatever popularity your fic may have, here's how to have the resilience to finish it to the end.

(Disclaimer: this is not a reason to stop commenting on fics)

#1 Whatever You Think You're Owed, Let It Go.

Accidentally quoting Elsa aside, I'm talking about comments. Comments validate and can make you learn new things about your fics through other people's eyes.

But when you see a high-to-low ratio between kudos and comments, you may feel like you are owed.

When you push yourself to complete three long chapters and publish them all in the same day and only get one response, it can feel like people are being mean.

The truth is, we'll never know why the people who loved our fics will not talk to you about them.

Maybe they forget there's a person behind the fic.

Maybe they're having a bad day and just want to shut down after reading something enjoyable.

But whatever the case is, it's beyond your control.

This post said it best (shoutout to @radioactive-earthshine) :

"Remember - hits/likes/kudos/comments are not reflective of the quality of your fic or your ability to write. Most people just don’t comment - even if they say they do, they don’t... Even if your fic brought tears to their eyes and it haunted them for weeks and they printed it out and sent it to their friends they just don’t comment. You just have to accept it.

I'm not saying you force yourself to let it go now. But someday, you will need to let it go, and control what you can which is you.

#2 Put Your Life First Before Your Readers

I have to say this because sometimes writers would have thoughts like "I haven't written for a long time; people must be wondering about it." Nope. Stop. Not worth it.

Creating is fun, but it is also exhausting. Add into the fact that most of us have 8-hour jobs or classes.

The reason you haven't written for a long time is that other aspects of your life deserve your time and energy, too. And after all that, you would be understandably tired.

So put your life first before your readers.

#3 Make Preparations to Replenish Your Soul

Long fanfic writing is energy and time-consuming. But you cannot depend on external validation to make up for it.

External validation in the form of comments can be good because we don't want to imagine it's all in our heads. But seeking it too much leads to what I've read in the book, "Ego is the Enemy":

"If outside validation is your only source of nourishment, you will hunger for the rest of your life."

So before posting a chapter, list down what you can do to replenish your soul after. Treating myself to a cafe one time helped. So is taking walks when the air is cool.

To stop anticipating responses too much, what works for me is to post on Wednesday. Wednesday is when people are less busy. At the same time, when the weekend comes, I don't obsess over it so much and can focus on other aspects of my life or replenish my energy for the next week.

In the commitment to complete a long fic, it's important to be honest with yourself. This is to be transparent with your needs and watch out for any signs of burnout, like feeling sad and tired. If you need to walk away from your fic for a while, then do it.

#3 This is Between You and Your Creation

Yes, fandom should be two-way street. Yes, fandom shouldn't treat fanfics and fan arts like commodity. And yes, there should be interaction and engagement. But before all that, there is this thing between you and your creation first and foremost.

Just as a story has to have a "why", remember why you thought you should write your long fic. Your reason may change over time, but when you remember your "why", you remember your true goal to keep going.

#4 Write like No One is Reading

This is a perk I adapted when I only get two responses if I'm lucky after updating a fic that has more than a hundred subscribers. If people barely react, then you're free to write whatever you please in your story as if you're dancing like no one is watching. Just have fun improving your skills.

This is similar to an inspiring section of the same post that I've found:

"10.) Write for yourself, not for others. Write the fic you know no one is going to read. Write the fic that sounds ridiculous. You will be so happy you put it out in the world and there will be people who will be glad it exists."

#5 Cherish the Rare Friends You Find Along the Way

Sometimes, we get lucky and get something better than a hundred people interacting with our fic -we find a friend we would make in the way of writing the long fic that we dared to write. And they're the ones who would cheer you on and cry and laugh with you about the shared stories. Cherish them.

(dedicated to @lightreader1)

#archive of our own #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction.net #ao3 fanfic #fic

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separatist-apologist · 9 months

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Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

Added chapter because I can do whatever I want, whenever I want

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

“Az—”

“Five more minutes.” Azriel was breathless, pulling his mouth off hers long enough to look down at her with hazy, dark eyes. She should have told him no. Should have pushed him off her to get to work before the castle hummed to life and she was pulled in a hundred different directions. The problem was Azriel, of course, and how much he enjoyed kissing.

It was obvious he was starved of physical contact, because too often Gwyn found him pulling her against him in the middle of the night, waking her up simply to kiss her. She should have put parameters around how and when they touched. Gwyn swore every morning when she finally managed to drag herself out of bed that she would.

And she never did.

Maybe she needed to be touched, too.

Eyes searching her own, Azriel waited for her to tell him to stop. Greedily, Gwyn merely pulled him back against her, kissing him with the same slow burning hunger he felt, too. Azriel moaned softly, her lip between his teeth.

Gwyn kept telling herself that this was merely situational. That he was so used to having bedroom partners he’d merely picked the easiest person to fill that void and when they left, he’d go back into Velaris and pick another. It would be her left to figure herself out, alone in bed all over again.

She ought to stop him now. They’d taken things too far already, and this path spelled ruin for her and her alone. Gwyn even planted her hands against his chest to shove him off, just in time for Azriel to fully roll atop her, wings blotting out the early beams of light and Gwyn was wrecked all over again.

She didn’t want to feel safe with him. She didn’t think he even realized what he was doing, that moving his wings around was merely second nature to him. And yet every time he blotted out the sun, bubbling the pair of them in this private little world, Gwyn felt herself go limp. All the tension she’d been holding, the tightness in her muscles erased.

It all came roaring back of course, but for those brief moments, Gwyn felt right again. Like herself and who she’d been before everything, and it made her ache that Azriel had figured out how to pull that woman back to the surface. She didn’t think he even realized he was doing it.

But she knew he knew the difference. Right then, his hand found her hip, pushing her into the mattress so he could roll his hips against her and Gwyn decided they had to be done. She was just barely holding her fragile line with him. Every new stroke of his tongue made her want to rip him out of his clothes and damn the consequences.

And oh. There would be consequences.

Gwyn pulled back, gasping for air as she pulled herself from beneath him. Azriel groaned loudly, letting her shove him off her so he lay flat on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. “What are you doing to me?” he asked her, hips bucking against the air. She glanced down, swallowing her need. He was so erect, and she wanted to touch him.

“Nothing you didn’t ask me to do,” she quipped, too breathless to be believable. “I’m going to be late.”

Moving that arm, Azriel blinked a hazel eye at her. “For what?”

“Another suitor, of course,” she replied dryly, forcing herself out of his bed. Go back, go back, go back—her brain was screaming at her, overridden by Gwyn’s iron will. Cauldron damn her, but she wanted to crawl back in his lap until Rhysand himself had to come from Prythian and demand to know what they were doing.

“Gwyn,” he growled, the sound dragging her back to reality. He was a male, and males were too territorial when they thought a female belonged to them. Azriel was supposed to be smarter than that, but she supposed with all that blood in his cock, he couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t growl at me, you sound like a dog,” she shot back before sauntering from the room. Behind her, Azriel attempted to follow but his legs became tangled in the sheets and he fell face first to the floor with a thud that might have been a minor earthquake for how it shook the walls.

She’d made it to her own room before he caught her, fingers curling around her upper arm. “You know there is no other male, Az,” Gwyn said with exasperation. “When would I have the time?”

It was pure jealousy staring back at her, burning in those pretty eyes of his. She couldn’t hide her shiver, nor did it escape her notice the way his nostrils flared. What was he scenting, she wondered nervously?

Azriel released her, still staring like a predator. “You’re of course…allowed—”

“Very believable,” she teased, pushing lightly at his bare chest. “But don’t quit your day job for the theater.”

He scowled. “I meant it—”

“No you don’t. You want to mean it. There is a difference.”

“Is it so wrong to want you for myself?” he asked, a creeping note of some emotion she didn’t want to touch entering his voice.

“Yes,” Gwyn replied, heart pounding loud enough they could likely hear it back in the library. She needed Nesta and Emerie so badly it was making her teeth ache. They’d understand what was happening here, at least, and help her work out her own feelings. Instead she had Azriel, who very obviously had feelings.

And that terrified her.

Azriel made some scoffing noise and Gwyn shut her bathing room door right in his face before he could wedge that tall, muscular body in the frame where she’d fold like paper and ask him to take a bath with her. Even then, Gwyn gripped the handle, fighting an internal war to open it and invite Azriel in until she heard him pad back to his own bedroom with a string of soft curses.

Gwyn bathed and dressed, choosing a forest green dress with gold trim with the hope it might make Azriel look at her in that way of his. The one where she could watch all his thoughts empty from his ears, until it was just the sight of her bouncing around empty space. No one had ever looked at her the way he so often did. It was contradictory to court his attention while telling him there was a problem with wanting her but right then, slipping into the shared common space, Gwyn didn’t care.

Azriel was in his leathers, hair still a little damp, a letter in hand.

“Rhysand said we could…” he trailed off when he caught sight of her, lips half parted as his eyes dragged up her body, and then back down.

Perfect, she thought with satisfaction. “You can tell me later,” she said, walking toward that little table to slide her fingers over his shoulders.

That was a mistake. She ought to have known better. Quicker than her eyes could track, Azriel grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his lap. They were kissing before she had a chance to catch her breath. It was exactly what she’d wanted—tucked up in his lap, fingers gripping the thick hair at his neck.

He tasted sweet like the tea he’d been drinking, sugar still coating his tongue. She didn’t know how he managed it, but Azriel shifted his thighs just enough that she was spread across them, straddling his waist as if she could feel anything beneath the hard plating of his armor.

“These stupid dresses will be my end,” Azriel whispered against her lips, looking between their bodies to trace the line of her collar bone with an errant finger. The siphon on his hand gleamed cobalt, flashing like mirrors of Azriel’s own excitement.

“I’ll put the robes back on if you want,” Gwyn offered like a liar. She’d be wearing dresses like this until she died, hoping he might catch a glimpse of her and fall apart like he was right then.

“Oh?” he asked, the worst pushing past his teeth in a huff. “Have I been naughty—”

“You’re ridiculous, Azriel,” Gwyn complained, swatting at him while Azriel burst out laughing. He was so beautiful, she thought in awe. The throaty sound of his amusement stabbed her through the chest, made worse by that big, unguarded smile.

“I’ll get on my knees for the priestess,” he told her, eyes bright. Gwyn rose to her feet, making a show of rolling her own.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you will.”

“I think you’d find me quite devoted.”

“I’m a priestess, not a goddess. I don’t require worship,” she told him as Azriel stood too. He pushed between his legs, adjusting himself beneath the leather.

“Wrong again, Gwyneth,” Azriel called as she walked away. “Wrong as always.”

Gwyn’s steps faltered for only a moment, but when she dared to look over her shoulder, Azriel was picking up that letter again, seemingly content. The ghost of that smile lingered on his face, creating a hazy, warm glow over his skin that Gwyn recognized, even if she didn’t dare name.

She didn’t feel better once she’d left his presence. For one, she knew one of his shadows were trailing her, though she couldn’t see it. Too often they slipped between the strands of her hair, creating a dark dimension to her strands she only recognized when she passed a reflective surface.

She suspected it was equal parts Azriel’s desire to keep her safe, and the shadows themselves just enjoying her presence. Gwyn had begun to wonder if one could teach themselves the language they whispered in, so she could hear whatever it was they were constantly murmuring against her jaw.

Where did shadow singers even come from? Azriel was the only one in Prythian—Merrill had told her that, once, and Nesta had confirmed it later on. Surely, though, they must originate from somewhere? And if there was a history of them, that meant there were books.

It was tempting to abandon her plan for the morning and see what she could find in the city library. Another day, she promised herself, well aware her days were numbered as it was. She and Kai were getting nowhere with the other and the time they’d been allowed to stay was ticking to a close. Her and Azriel spent more time kissing than they did trying to unravel any secrets.

Gwyn had her cipher, but that was only helpful when she had the ancient tomes that required deciphering. She’d lose that when she had to go back home. The crushing weight of everything she needed to do nearly drove Gwyn to her knees. She took a breath—this was important, too. Crucial, even.

She couldn’t go back to Prythian with nothing to show for her time here. She wouldn’t go back to nightmares and sitting alone at her window, thinking about her sister and wishing it had been her who’d died. Gwyn needed peace, and while she hadn’t expected to find it in Monteserre, she had a small taste of it.

Maybe it was greedy, but Gwyn wanted more. So she stepped down the cobblestone streets and made her way from the immaculate, shining corner where the aristocrats lived, down to where the road began to fracture and split. She had to be careful of loose stones and potholes, mingled with festering rainwater and animal excrement stinking up the humid morning air.

Gwyn could feel curious eyes peering over her shoulder, though when she turned to look at the shadow clinging to her dress, she found nothing but hazy sunlight dimmed in the cloudy sky.

In Velaris, leatherworkers had specialized jobs and were paid handsomely for their talent and time. Here, tanners did everything for very little money. Gwyn was hoping if she paid a Velaris rate, she could expedite what she wanted.

Dodging a wandering mule meandering through the street, Gwyn pushed open a heavy wooden door. A bell jangled overhead, bringing forth a cheerful young woman standing behind a well worn counter.

“Oh!” she said, taking in the sight of Gwyn. “You’re the emissary from Prythian.”

“Am I that obvious?” Gwyn asked with a pleasant smile.

“A little,” the girl admitted, cocking her head to the side. Brown hair spilled over her thin shoulders. “What can we do for you here?”

Reaching into her pockets, Gwyn pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper and both her and her sisters evoking stones.

“I need you to make me a pair of gauntlets,” Gwyn told her, watching as she pulled the paper closer to her face. “I’ll pay handsomely if you can do it quickly. Upfront.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” the girl said. “But my father can do it easily. Within a day, if that’s alright with you?”

Gwyn pulled the pouch of coins from her pocket, setting it on the table. The girl's eyes widened. Let it be known that in Prythian, they paid their skilled workers well.

“For your discretion,” Gwyn told her, holding her gaze.

“Of course,” the girl breathed. “This…this is a year's wages. Are you sure—”

“I am probably underpaying you, honestly,” Gwyn admitted. She could have asked Azriel for more, but he’d have wanted to know what she was doing and Gwyn was an awful liar. “Where I’m from, this type of service would be costly.”

“Not many can afford new shoes or belts,” she admitted. “And the palace has its own tanner. I will see this done. Come back this afternoon for a fitting, and we’ll have them sewn up.”

Gwyn exhaled, smiling. “Perfect.”

One small step at a time.

AZRIEL:

“I want to send the winged male home,” Kais voice intoned, echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings. “And invite the priestess to remain for another few months. I’d like to show her the territory. She’s harmless.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. Gwyn was as harmless as a poisoned dagger, and it was only Kai’s unwillingness to see her for what she really was that kept him from noticing.

“The brute stays,” his father replied in a voice far clearer than Azriel had ever heard.

“He is meddlesome.”

“He is too stupid to read, let alone get in your way,” the king snapped. “Find some other amusement—the priestess has a purpose here.”

“Yes, I remember,” Kai replied sullenly.

What purpose? Azriel was desperate to learn more, but the conversation shifted into rebellion on the border of Vallahan and Montessere, and a gathering army between themselves and Rask. The three territories were constantly jostling for more land, more power, and it seemed they were too preoccupied with war to really consider anything else.

Azriel intended to take Gwyn down to the borders so they could get a sense of what Rask might be planning. Vallahan was more seafaring than its neighbors, and Montessere, it seemed, managed to hold on despite a rather small military presence and a pathetic navy. How? Azriel, who was always preoccupied with secrets the way Cassian was preoccupied with war, knew there was something to this small territory's power.

He was staring at a jumbled mess of pieces, too close to see the full picture. Azriel remained until Kai and his father left the throne room, revealing nothing else that was interesting, Kai wanted to isolate Gwyn, which meant Azriel would need to become far more aggressive in their presence.

It wasn’t just jealousy, though that was certainly a part of it. Taking a breath, Azriel slipped through the shadows for the hall just outside the room he and Gwyn shared. She’d slipped out early, so quiet she’d somehow managed not to wake him. Not one of his shadows had warned him, either, bouncing around the room gleefully as they claimed they were teaching her stealth.

As if she could understand a damn word they said.

They were supposed to be training today, and yet the room was devoid of her presence. Maybe she was seeing another male.

Why did he care? Azriel paced, trying to shake himself of the creeping dread settling in his chest. Was he replacing Mor with Gwyn? Was that what the feeling was? He felt strangely tethered in a way he never had with Mor, grounded on his own two feet rather than set adrift in the sky, waiting for someone to pull him back down.

It hadn’t bothered him when Rhys had written, letting him know Lucien Vanserra was going to Scythia with Queen Vassa and Jurian, and he was bringing Elain Archeron with him. That would have enraged Azriel in the past, filling him with such overwhelming jealousy it threatened to consume him.

But his first thought had been, that’s nice for him.

And Azriel hated Lucien. He wanted nothing good for Lucien and never would, and yet…and yet he couldn’t even hate him for taking a female he didn’t deserve. Azriel flexed his hands at his sides, trying to place what he was feeling. The scent of her skin, the touch of her mouth…the way his bones reverberated when she walked into a room. The—-

The door opened, and Gwyn slipped in, holding a package in her hands with bright, almost glassy eyes.

Touch her, instinct roared, drowning out every other thought. Touch her, smell her, taste her—

Azriel blinked.

“What’s that?” he asked, swallowing hard.

Oh. It’s you.

“You’ll see,” Gwyn said. She tried to walk past him but Azriel caught her arm, inhaling the scent of her deeply.

Oh, Cauldron fuck me.

“Were you crying?”

“Happy tears,” she promised, eyes still bright. “Let me change and we’ll go.”

Azriel released her, uncertain if he could train with her today. His heart was frantic against his chest, thudding so roughly he wondered if she could hear it. Did she know? No, he decided. No, Gwyn was blissfully unaware of the knowledge washing over him.

Mate.

Oh, Cauldron fuck him.

Mate.

Gwyn vanished behind the door while Azriel turned in a full circle, as though the answer to his realization was going to appear before him. Did he tell her? No, that was crazy. He’d scare her.

Racking his brain, Azriel thought of how Elain had reacted when Lucien blurted out they were mates. She’d avoided him for years. Azriel thought he might die if he had to tiptoe around Gwyn the way Lucien did with Elain.

Fuck Lucien for making me feel sympathy for him.

And Cassian…Cassian hadn’t handled things much better, even when keeping it a secret? He’d been like a feral, panting dog most of the time while Nesta worked very hard to pretend she didn’t know why he was acting that way. It had worked out, but the in between was messy and painful for them both.

Which left Rhysand. Keeping the secret hadn’t exactly worked out for him…Feyre had left him bleeding in the mud to sort out her feelings. But she had the benefit of already being in love with him, and the assurance of her feelings before she was confronted with the bond. And unlike the Archeron sisters, Gwyn had been born Fae. She’d understand what it meant. That didn’t mean she’d accept it…but maybe…maybe if she was already in love with him…? Maybe if he gave her space and let her come to the conclusion on her own, she’d want it.

Want him.

It occurred to him mere seconds before Gwyn’s door opened again, that Azriel wasn’t sure of his own feelings. He hadn’t really stopped to think about them—and maybe he never would, because there she was in that tight leather, hair braided off her face. She’d tied the white ribbon around her forehead again.

That was nice to see, he thought.

But it was her hands, gloved and holding— “Are those siphons?” he asked, stepping forward to take her fingers in his.

“Not technically,” she admitted, letting him run his thumb over the azure stone nestled in the leather. “I can’t wear them the way they’re supposed to be worn…and Catrin will never wear hers again. But I thought I could wear them like this.”

Her fingers were uncovered, the gauntlets designed the same way he and Cassian wore them—looped around her middle finger so she still had access to bare touch, while keeping the siphons wrapped tight against the back of her hand.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

As if he could be.

“No,” he breathed, taking the other to look at them both. Oh, the Illyrians would be irate when they saw this. Azriel smiled at the thought. “I can’t believe we never thought of this before.”

Cassian would absolutely lose it, but Azriel was imagining Emerie in siphons, too. They’d never once been allowed for females, but what if…oh. What if?

“I can still call upon their magic,” she told him, squeezing his hand so he could see them flash. “I don’t think I’ll ever be a priestess the way I once imagined and maybe…maybe that's okay.”

Biting her lower lip, Gwyn added, “Maybe this is a different path that the Mother wants me to walk.”

He wanted to touch her face so badly. Azriel settled for not touching her at all, hands back at his sides. “Would that be so bad?”

Gwyn considered this for a moment. “Carynthian…Valkyrie…Priestess. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fit them all together, but maybe I don’t have to. Ever since you took me to Catrin’s grave, I’ve been thinking that maybe she didn’t have to die for nothing. That…that—”

Gwyn took a breath and Azriel, unable to stop himself, lifted her chin so she had to look at him.

“You were worth saving,” he murmured, thumb sweeping across her cheek. “She would say the same.”

“I know,” Gwyn whispered, wrapped around her chest. “I know she would, I just—I wish it had been me, instead.”

“I don’t,” he blurted without meaning to. Gwyn’s eyes widened and hastily, Azriel amended, “I’m glad you’re here.”

With me, was what he left unspoken.

“I need to figure it all out,” she admitted, stepping back so he wasn’t touching her anymore. “And learn how to forgive myself, I think. But for now…I feel close to her like this. Close to the Mother, too. I can feel that energy again, and I hadn’t even realized how much I’d missed it until I put them on. I’ll take it off if you think—”

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupted, unable to explain the writhing sense of satisfaction it gave him seeing her armed to the teeth wearing those pretty, blue evoking stones like siphons. They were smaller than his own, but just as bright, and likely just as powerful.

This is proof, he told himself as he looked at her.

Proof she’d always belonged to him. Proof that he’d been waiting all these years for his equal—his match. And here she was, staring him down with bright, fearless eyes. Unbroken, just like he was. They’d survived long enough to find each other, even if she didn’t realize it. And Azriel decided right then and there waiting five hundred years had been worth it.

He would have waited another five hundred if he had to.

“Good,” Gwyn said lightly, that teasing edge back to her voice. “Because I paid a lot of money for them.”

“Let’s see if they improve your fighting,” he replied, hoping she couldn’t see how excited he was. Gwyn smiled, the sight shooting straight to his cock. Azriel would have committed atrocities to see that look on her face every day of his life.

“You’ll see, shadow singer,” she said, poking a finger against his chest, a sultry smile on her lips.

Azriel only shook his head, trying—and failing—to suppress his smile.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

#gwynriel #im allowed to post on a tuesday if i want #then i can spend tomorrow working on my feysand week stuff because im not quite done yet

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tigertales9 · 5 months

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⬇ Mood ⬇

Hey y'all, I'm back with a quick writing update. I hoped to post the secret wedding chapter of the Hard Reset series (that I've been promising forever) tonight, but real life has not been kind recently.

I haven't been around much because a really close older relative of mine had a health scare in the last week, and it scared the hell out of me and my fam. Thank God they pulled through, and it looks like they'll be okay, but my brain is fried, y'all. 😬

I've got the Hard Reset secret wedding/wedding night fic 99% finished and just need to do a last edit before posting, but I keep reading the same sentences and not really seeing them. I'm gonna get some sleep tonight and try to do a quick & dirty edit tomorrow and hopefully get it up tomorrow night. I'm excited to share it with y'all. I mentioned it before, but I'm going to post the secret wedding/honeymoon in 2 parts because it's gotten so long (I'm having way too much fun writing about their visit to the fall fest which will be in part 2). So the first part should post tomorrow and the next part … soonish.

Some folks have expressed an interest in me continuing the series after the honeymoon, and I've decided to do that. I have several ideas brewing so we'll see where that takes us. 🤞

Thanks for hanging in there while I deal with stuff, and -- as always -- thanks for reading!

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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pycobutterpie · 9 days

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#samweek2024 Day 1 Sam Winchester x my hobby (writing supernatural fics and roleplays), set in his world, regarding the books of Carver Edlund Triggers: none Words: 1600

Glancing at the clock, I sighed. I had been sitting in the library for two hours and didn't know where to begin or where to end. On the left were books about Indian culture and customs, on the right about rituals and deities of the South Asian country. Not that I ever wanted to travel there. It was all research. A glance at my Discord channel told me that Minnie was still waiting for my response in our previous chapter of the written Supernatural RPG. My chat buddy had already planned our story with India. And there were two stories running through my head again. I bit my lower lip and tried to decide which one to write now. Either the research for the new chapter, where Dean and his family are being hunted by a demon in India, or the current story, where Dean's daughter had learned to teleport and had simply showed up in her cousin's kindergarten.

Carver Edlund would be proud of us, I was sure of it. One can always make a crazy story even crazier, and that's what we had done. But who deserved a happy family more than Sam and Dean from Supernatural. Nobody, right? They had been through so much that a little fluff was only appropriate. We hadn't made it that easy for them either. Thinking about how Sam's heart is gong to be broken…

With a sadistic smile on my lips, I was about to start my post about Sam's son when a huge guy appeared on the other side of the small desk and took my light. “Hi,” the brunette said quietly, balancing a stack of old books on both arms. The tendons of his forearms were taut, his muscles well defined. “Hi,” I said shyly, quickly looking back at my screen, because guys like that didn't usually talk to me. He cleared his throat briefly, but his shadow didn't disappear. Why was he still standing there? I looked at his face again, which looked a little questioning. That handsome face… “Um,” he snapped me out of my thoughts, “can you make room for me? Otherwise it's already full.”

I winced briefly, because I shouldn't be daydreaming so much. Instead, I jumped up, the chair crashing into the shelf behind me.

"Sure, sorry!" I hurriedly pushed my books to one side, which took up most of the space on his side of the table. “No problem,” he said with a gentle smile, lowering his tomes onto the table. They looked a little dusty and weren't even labeled on the spine. I would imagine old spellbooks in a magical library would look like this. Oh, that was an idea! I straightened up my chair and went straight to the chat with Minnie and wrote in the 'Ideas' channel:

@ Y/N: “Maybe there's some kind of magical library in hell where Alex and Cassy cantry out all sorts of things as soon as they can read?” I grinned and immediately felt the inspiration to finish the text Sam's about little son again.

I just managed to send my text before my computer went PLING. My friend had replied in the ideas channel.

@ Minnie: “Wow, that sounds great^^ Maybe they'll get caught too. Or they'll tear up one of Bobby's important books.”

I had to laugh a little.

@ Y/N: “No way, he made copies of all of them.” PLING @ Minnie: “Then Crowley’s books.”

Before I could answer, I felt an annoyed look from across the table. The young man had pressed the fingers of his left hand to his forehead to hold his head, while the light from his own laptop setting off his sharp cheekbones. "You should turn off the sound," he said, looking pretty good even when annoyed. Inwardly, I had long since made the comparison to Sam, the way I imagined him and the way Edlund had described him. Muscular, masculine, but also a few soft features and incredibly velvety flowing hair. I thought guys like that only existed in books. Suddenly, his laptop emitted an urgent beep and the light on the gentleman's face disappeared. “Oh no, please don't…” he cursed under his breath and hitting a few keys in vain.

As I was waiting for Minnie to post anyway, I ventured a conversation: “And you should charge your laptop. Do you need it urgently?” “Hm… Deadline,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. I wondered if he often worked under time pressure. His eyes flew over my laptop and my books. “Are you studying too?” I had to smile. “No, not anymore. This is more of a hobby. I'm Y/N, by the way. What's your subject? Magic?” Now he had to laugh as well. “Sometimes it seems that way to me, but no. Law. And I'm Sam, nice to meet you.” My forehead felt like it was frozen in a wrinkle. The guy's name was the same as the one in the story of all stories and he studied law in the same way? Especially since his books didn't look like they came from the legal department at all. More like… My imagination was too vivid, far too vivid. It was just a story. There were no monsters and therefore no hunters. And the name was completely random. Thousands of people were called Sam. How about Sam Witwicky? Just to name one character… But still… It was worth a try. I could already imagine what his search history would look like. Determined, I slid my laptop over to him and gave him a trusting smile. “If you don't delete anything, you can use mine. I should look in the books anyway. I haven't made much progress yet.” “Really,” Sam asked. “You know you should never give your electronics to strangers.” I wouldn't put it past him that his little eyes had looked so desperate earlier, like a puppy that had its toy taken away. Instead, I leaned back and pulled the book of the Indian gods towards you. “No, it's okay, I'll have your fingerprints and my sister is with the FBI.” A lie, but never mind. The real Sam always gave the FBI a wide berth, unless he was impersonating them. “Okay… thanks then,” he said and pulled my laptop towards him.

We were absorbed in our work for a while until my laptop made a few sounds again. Minnie had replied! And her text was more than 2000 characters long, otherwise it would have been just one pling. My eyes widened a little and my fingers tingled to read what she had written from the perspective of Dean's gifted daughter. Or from Sam's, or probably both in one post. After all, I had ended my part of the story earlier with a phone call from the kindergarten teacher to Sam. But the Sam in front of me made no move to return the laptop. Instead, he stared at it, quite fascinated, and then happily started typing again. I just stared at him for a few moments, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, it soon plinged again. Minnie was notoriously quick with her lyrics. But surely Sam wouldn't dare? His fingers stopped and he grinned at the screen again. “Hey!”, I said to him and pulled my laptop back towards me.

Sam flinched, startled, and raised his hands: “I didn't do anything.” With a frown, I looked at the open window on the screen. Of course it was Discord and Minnie's latest post wasn't even about the story. Just a real life conversation. “You chatted with her?” I looked reproachfully at Sam, who was staring out of the window at the end of the hallway. “Sam, you don't have to ignore me, I can see that.” I quickly skimmed over the brief chat between the two of them. “You're giving her tips on what Sam would do? Are you a roleplayer too?” My curiosity clearly outweighed my annoyance that he had been snooping through my chat. “A what? No, sorry. I was just reading the text. And I thought Sam wouldn't give his son to a stranger in a nursery after all.” Oh, so he was a fan too. I gave him my sweetest smile, because you never meet other Supernatural fans in real life. “It's really cool that you love Supernatural too. One would think you are a LARPer for Sam. And do you also write fanfiction?”

Sam tilted his head slightly. “No, I just had a quick look at the books. My brother has…” He stopped the sentence so abruptly that I felt like he was biting his tongue. I rested my chin on the palm of my hand with satisfaction and grinned broadly at him. “So I've been writing the story for a while now. We let Sam and Dean become fathers almost simultaneously and involuntarily. That's really good stuff. Sam's girlfriend is not only in the FBI but also a monster without him knowing it. Suits him, doesn't it?” I looked directly at the Sam across from me as he swallowed and turned a little paler. “I… No, I don't think so. I have to go now.” By then he had already stood up, gathered his things without looking at me again, and stalked off. Was he offended? Sam was certainly his favorite character. And what we did to him in the story was pretty intense. But sometimes you stepped on other fans' toes. But there were be others who were just as excited about the ideas as you were. ------------------ (It would be really fun to read this story from Sam's point of view :D If anyone fancies it, feel free to tag me in the results). Written for #samweek2024 by @seasononesam and @suncaptor <3 You can find the topics of the individual days here.

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #samweek2024 #samweek 2024 Day 1 #spn family AU

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pomplalamoose · 5 months

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spending a December with DILF Luke🎄🌟

🕯️🕯️modern day AU🕯️🕯️

A/N: I'm so mad at how wildly busy I am this month, but since this is my first Christmas as a fan fiction author, nothing and nobody will stop me from posting some holiday related fluff!

I sincerely hope you'll have fun with this as well <33

(it isn't necessary to read my other Dilf Luke posts in order to understand what's going on here, but should you have some questions check them out as well🫶🏻)

• because of what happened to his beloved wife, Luke isn't a fan of the winter and the holidays

• he used to be but now all he associates it with is one of the darkest chapters of his life

• for the sake of his child and the rest of his family he tries

• but the sadness sticks to it like syrup and even the littlest of things remind him of what once was

• accordingly it causes quite the drama when your best friend gets invited on a skiing trip at the end of November

• yes, they'll be back just before Christmas but until then?

• they hate to leave their dad alone in his misery, even offered to cancel their plans but he insisted they go

• he wants them to be happy

• so your friend turns to you

• yes, they said they wouldn't involve themselves in anything romance related between you and their dad

• but pleaseee can't you find a reason to stay with him while they're gone?

• yes, they KNOW this will be absolutely weird because of your still unreciprocated crush

• they kind of don't care about that though, you'll manage for sure

• you can borrow their room while they're gone

• "or maybe you won't even need it" they say pulling a face in mock disgust

• eventually, because you know how much they're looking forward to their vacation, you agree

• (and also because of other, more obvious reasons)

• meanwhile Luke is experiencing a wild roller coaster of emotions

• already feeling glum and dispirited like every year, and even more so at the prospect of having to spend his time alone, he was planning to work as much as possible to distract himself from unwanted thoughts

• but when after much hesitation you ask if it'd be okay if you were to stay at his house for, mmh, maybe the next few weeks? he's suddenly ready to ascend straight to heaven

• he'll have you all to himself for nearly the entirety of the month!

• this is his chance

• he's going to make sure you'll enjoy your time with him

• imagine baking the first Christmas cookies of the year together

• it's a bit awkward at first

• although you know the kitchen well you've never actually cooked or baked something in it and thus have no idea where to find the necessary equipment

• no need to worry though!

• Luke definitely owns an old book full of recipes that is handed down in his family and wants you to look through it beforehand

• is there anything you'd like to try?

• or maybe you are able to spot a favorite of yours?

• he easily does the preparations while you're busy reading and so you don't feel quite so useless

• while mixing together the ingredients your sleeves keep slipping down

• because your hands are already covered in the, admittedly, way too sticky dough, you try pushing them up with your forearms instead

• when this doesn't work you attempt to use your chin

• Luke thinks it's absolutely endearing and takes a moment to watch before offering his help

• he gently reaches for you, making sure to roll your sleeves up properly

• coincidentally his warm hands brush over your skin a few times

• it's as soft as he imagined it to be

• possibly he holds on to one of yours wrists for a little bit too long when he's done

• and what about your hair?

• don't you think he should do it up and out of the way as well?

• tying it up in a messy pony tail he tells you to go clean your hands

• in the mean time he'll see what he can do about the dough

• when you return you raise yourself on your tippy toes to take a peek over his shoulder

• you definitely were doing something wrong because it looks perfectly fine now

• maybe you should have put in more flour?

• your thoughts quickly take on a very different direction, however, when you see the way Luke works

• never before did you think something like simply kneading a dough could be attractive

• to distract yourself from the thought of him touching you like that, you decide to have a quick taste

• if the dough is good, the cookies will turn out great as well

• at least that's what your mother always says

• carefully you sneak your hand under Luke's left arm to reach into the bowl

• you don't even want that much, just a little teeny tiny bit

• more quickly than you can react does your hand recieve a playful smack and you pull away with a pout

• don't you know you'll end up with a tummy ache by eating too much raw dough?

• the cookies will be done in less than half an hour, no need to get impatient

• when he isn't looking you stick your fingers into the bowl anyways

• but of course Luke catches you just as you're taking a bite

• he decides then that he might have some fun as well and starts chasing you around the kitchen in mock anger

• your squeals and giggles absolutely delight him

• the oven is doing its work and you're cleaning up together when all of a sudden you catch your reflection in the mirror hanging opposite the door

• looking down at yourself you realize in embarrassment that basically your whole front is covered with a mixture of sugary powder and flour and, is that food coloring right there??

• normally you never end up this messy but this afternoon, it seems, you got carried away a little bit

• of course this had to happen at the worst possible time ever!

• Luke, on the other hand, doesn't look any less perfect than when you started

• typical

• but before you can suggest it yourself he insists on bringing you a change of clothing

• is he going to look through my laundry?, you wonder with a flush to your cheeks

• does he even know where I put it?

• and most importantly: did I look like this the whole time???

• you scrunch up your face and beg for the floor to swallow you whole

• you don't know what exactly you expected Luke to bring to you, maybe a spare pullover your friend left behind?

• instead he returns with something that looks a lot like one of his knitted sweaters

• doing your best to conceal your excitement you pull it over your head, your heart beating fast

• Luke laughs

• it's way too big for you

• "do you need me to roll up the sleeves for you?"

• once the cookies are ready to be taken out you immediately want to try them and happily reach out when Luke offers you one

• he pulls it away as soon as your hand comes close

• "Luke!", you exclaim and again try to snatch it away from him

• he's faster though and dangles it over your head

• a few times you try jumping, then decide to quickly duck around him to get one from the tray

• he easily blocks your way

• at your scowl he can't help but laugh

• when you realize he wants you to eat the cookie out of his hand, by how close he's holding it to your face, you blush furiously

• of course you do as he wishes

• imagine visiting a Christmas market together

• Luke definitely leaves work early so you can go at a good time

• maybe you are a little bit overwhelmed with the amount of people pushing in every direction and so, to not get separated from each other, hold on to his jacket

• he enjoys it immensely and if you come across an especially big throng of people, he might even take your hand until you've made it through

• while you're admiring the lights and all the food and little trinkets to buy, Luke only looks at you

• he's hoping for a chance, any reason, to be closer to you

• so sometimes he waits until you've wandered away from him without noticing and then grabs whatever he can reach to pull you back into him

• when he has you where he wants you, he uses the opportunity to adjust your woolen hat and big scarf

• he's very concerned about you not being warm enough

• do you want something warm to drink?

• he would be happy to buy you anything you'd like to try

• on the way back to the car he has an arm tightly wrapped around your shoulder, hugging you closely into his side

• before he opens the passengers side door for you, he gently wipes the snow off your cheeks and lashes

• at some point he'll take you to an ice skating rink, for sure

• he's pretty good at it and would love to show you how to do it too

• do you need a helping hand?

• are your skates laced up tightly enough?

• don't worry, he's right there to catch you should you slip or otherwise loose your footing

• this is your time to pretend you have no idea what you're doing, even if you're normally able to skate just fine

• cling on to him!

• possibly, because he's SUCH a good teacher you manage to do a few laps on your own at the end

• however you have no idea how to slow down again; your focus was somewhere else entirely the whole time

• would he mind awfully if you were to bump into him full speed to stop?

• he pretends to and gives you a lighthearted scolding for immature behavior

• eventually he laughs just as much as you do

• do you want a Christmas tree for the living room?

• and do you think it would make a nice surprise for your friend when they return home?

• naturally he'll take you with him and turns it into a nice trip

• as soon as he realizes however, that you know the guy who sells them pretty well, he starts to regret his decision quickly

• especially since the both of you seem to get along splendidly

• you end up having a very good time, while Luke glares at the young man whenever he so much as looks at you for too long

• to cool off he pretends to look at his phone a few paces away but is at your side again in seconds when he hears your laugh

• what could possibly be so funny?

• he's fuming until you've picked out a tree you like

• very happy with your selection you eventually embarge on the journey home

• having no idea what's going on inside of him, you thank him for taking you

• you had so much fun and it was great to see, whoever that guy was (Luke couldn't care less), again

• although, you muse, he seemed to grow somewhat strange at the end, wouldn't he agree?

• of course Luke agrees and quietly smiles to himself

• since he pretty much involved you in everything to do with the holidays, he'll ask you to decorate the house with him as well and is relieved when you agree

• while you never seemed to grow bored or in any other way tired of being in his presence so far, he still was secretly worried

• maybe you could install the lights and decorations up high?

• it requires lots of precision and he's sure you'll be able to do it much more quickly than he ever could

• don't worry though, he'll make sure to always stand closely by your side in case you fall

• under no circumstances does he want you to get hurt and regularly checks if the chairs and ladders you are balancing on are sturdy enough

• however he'd be blatantly lying if he claimed there wasn't some ulterior motive to his request

• he knows you're more than capable but nevertheless can't resist to steady you more often than necessary

• just a hand on your lower back here

• or one on one of your legs there

• and because neither of you want the tree to accidentally fall over, he offers to pick you up by the waist

• he likes seeing his hands on you

• how easily you fit into them

• later in December he insists on taking you on a shopping spree

• both of you still need to buy some presents

• and since you refused to tell him what you want or need for Christmas?

• he's set on finding out himself

• the whole time he keeps a very close eye on every single thing you look at, making sure to even remember those that seemed to catch your attention only remotely

• oh and now that you're here at the mall anyways, do you already have an outfit for the upcoming festivities?

• he knows a few very nice stores he can recommend

• coincidentally they have some things he's sure you'll look gorgeous in

• at this point you're very close to the 24th and so you sit down to wrap your presents together

• actually it's Luke who does a lot of wrapping while you simply sit at his side and watch in fascination

• not only is he incredibly efficient but all of his packages turn out looking perfect, like something out of a magazine

• it's not like you're bad at what you're doing either but besides his yours just look slightly messy no matter what you do

• exasperated you ask for his help

• but then he moves to stand behind your chair, leaning in closely to reach around your shoulders

• see? It's actually very easy

• meanwhile you have no idea what's going on and can't concentrate either

• would he mind showing it a second time?

• just a few days later you see your friend again and get to know their entire extended family too

• some uncle brought a mistletoe, which he places above the doorway between the kitchen and the dining and living area

• it's a route everyone has to take many times and much chaos and laughing ensues

• you're enjoying yourself a lot

• your friend's family is just lovely and you end up with many pecks to the cheek while going back and forth as you help to prepare the dinner table

• Luke is watching in distress

• how come he wasn't able to catch you under the mistletoe yet?

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke star wars #dilf luke #dilf luke skywalker #star wars #star wars fanfiction #luke skywalker fanfiction #star wars headcanons #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi #fanfic

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celemilii · 24 days

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NOT IN LOVE; Fernando Alonso | 02; SOCIAL MEDIA IS WILD

a/n: hii, I hope you like this chapter, i'm really excited for the next ones. Tysm for reading <3

taglist: if you want me to add you to yhe taglist, just let me know in the comments!

⇚previous chapter

WATTPAD | INSTAGRAM | MASTERLIST

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

March 26, Saudi Arabia

The heat emanating from the Jeddah Corniche Circuit triggers a terribly bad mood in me. When Toto asked me to wait for him and Susie so that the three of us could enter the paddock and so I could introduce myself to his wife, I didn't think I would have to wait for them under the 30º C sun. Still, in the meantime, I watch the fans arrive excitedly, running after every familiar face they recognize and becoming disappointed when they are ignored.

What a bitch, it doesn't cost them anything to stop for a second.

Well, in fact, it's not just a second if they stop with each person who approaches, it's a lifetime, and even I would be lazy.

“Victoria!” calls the voice of my boss behind me, accompanied by his wife who smiles when she sees me. Both are very elegant and give off that vibe to old-money to which I aspire. “Sorry to keep you waiting, you know how chaotic this is.”

"Yeah, it's okay," I simply respond before addressing the blonde. “I'm Victoria, Toto has told me a lot about you.”

“Just like you!” Susie exclaims in a friendly tone. The three of us begin to walk together towards the entrance of the paddock and that seems to attract the attention of several photographers who are waiting hungrily to have an exclusive photo of whoever crosses their path. "I hope you like the cameras, Vicky, because you're about to be in the public eye," she whispers mockingly and I decide to humor her, not getting upset by the nickname but, still, being aware of the bitterness it generates in me.

“Me? If they don't even know me, they'll look for you," I respond, laughing, a grimace that fades when I feel one of the lenses take photos of me. Not Toto or Susie, but me.

"You are a beautiful and single woman as far as I know, it won't take long for them to try to find you a partner," she explains, not in a spiteful or malicious way but as a warning. “Welcome to the world of the Formula 1 circus.”

“What's happening?” questions my boss “Have you regretted it yet?”

"No, but this wasn't in my contract," I remind him with a smile, clearly joking.

I went ahead of them, claiming that I had to finish organizing a couple of things on their agenda before the day started. I sneak as fast as I can to my team's garage to lock myself in there and get away from the cameras. What I was missing was for my mother to start getting desperate about wanting to use me as the face of the family business because of this.

I can already imagine her bragging about this to her friends while she is privately criticizing me, saying that I should do more with my life than just bring coffee. I already know her, but just as I know her, I learned not to care about anything she said, not even when she questioned me that I would have a shitty life if I dedicated myself to being a secretary.

My life before was different, yes. Better? I'm not sure but it is different. However, after my boyfriend broke up with me and got engaged to another woman four months later, with my brother supporting his decision, my dreams began to change.

It's not an excuse to justify the 180º turn I made but it's okay to take the time you need and slow down to put things in perspective. Redirect you. Was that what I wanted in my life? At that time, yes. I loved my job as global Human Resources Director at Repsol and then returned home and settled for the crumbs of affection that David, my boyfriend, gave me. But, now that he left me and I left my job, my dreams have changed, or perhaps, I've just replaced the old ones with news and improved ones that show me how much I can do without the need for some idiot to constantly validate me.

"Excuse me, Miss Cruz," one of the girls calls me shyly and I smile at her so she can speak with confidence. I don't know how long I was in my head but it seems like it was long enough for my frown to be noticeable for miles.

"Victoria is fine," I say before letting her speak.

“Clear. I wanted to tell you that when I arrived, this was on one of the tables,” she tells me, handing me a small wooden paper bag. “It has your name so I kept it.”

"Oh, thank you," I exclaim, confused. I look at the bag carefully until the seal that decorates it catches my attention: Bake-sonalities.

¿Bake-sonalities?

How did this get here?

I open the packaging carefully and look at the contents. The smell of the cinnamon cookie fills my nostrils, making me inhale and let out a sigh when I feel it. Hell, I'd pay Evie every day if it made me have cookies every day.

When I went with Ale I didn't have the opportunity to buy the cinnamon ones because there were no more so perhaps it was a gesture from her to try them. How nice, I'll thank her later.

I start eating it accompanied by the coffee I was drinking and enjoy the intense flavor exploding in my mouth. I would eat this every day.

“Toto!” I called him when he saw him arrive, remembering that I had to say something to him. “In half an hour you have to go to the press room for an interview with several of the other directors.”

“Is that the one they are going to record for Netflix?”

"No, that's going to be a while, I promise to let you know in advance for mental preparation," I mock.

“It will not only be mental preparation, someone has to tell Horner things to his face. Hey, by the way, what smells so good?”

“They are cookies from a pastry shop in London, you should go. The other day I went with a friend, I bought a dozen for myself and they were my dinner.”

“Were your dinner cookies?”

“You would understand if you tried them. Look, take a piece,” I offer and he cuts off a piece of cookie. Toto and I didn't have the best of starts. At first, it was difficult for me to keep up with the hundreds of meetings he has per day with the different sectors of the company, but once I managed to adapt, our relationship improved a lot.

"I'm not a big fan of this type of sweet," he admits before putting it in his mouth and testing the flavor. “Wow.”

“I know! They are delicious.”

“When you want to look good with your boss, you already know what to buy him.”

“And when my boss wants to look good with his secretary, you know what to buy him too.”

"Don't go too far, Cruz," he replies gracefully. “By the way, I hope you like the photos they took of you because your face is all over Twitter.”

“You don't pay me for this, Mr. Wolff, if you want me to be the face of the company you have to change my contract.”

“Talking about contracts. The other day, when Fernando went to the office,” I look at him with intrigue as I can't imagine what he might say, “I overheard some of the conversation but since you had it under control I didn't want to intrude and... I wanted to inform you that there is no clause that indicates that you cannot date people from other teams but you still have the confidentiality clause that…”

"I know my contract, Toto," I inform him. “I was a Human Resources Director before working here, I know how to read what they offer me. Anyway, I don't hang out with people from other teams, it's unethical. Well, what can I say, I don't date people and that's it.”

“Come on, Victoria, you are young, you should take advantage of that.”

“Passed. I'm fine without anyone bothering me.”

“Yes, but when you fall in love that person is anything but annoying and, if he is, you would consider him cute.”

“All that until the pink lens with which you see your partner breaks and you notice that she is actually annoying.”

“It depends on how you look at it but I think you won't know until you feel it.”

You won't know until you feel it.

As if I hadn't loved someone so much to the point of believing that it was what gave meaning to life.

As if I hadn't let the love I felt break me in two, making my heart accelerate uncontrollably.

As if I hadn't felt like I went to war and came back.

"You're right," I decide to play along so he'll leave me alone because I'm not able to imagine myself in a situation like the one my boss described again. I can't imagine anyone falling in love with even the parts that bother me the most. Not when those parts outweigh the few good ones I have. “We should go, today is a long day,” I put half of my cookie in my wallet and leave the garage accompanied by Toto.

(...)

Once I get back to the hotel and take a shower, I decide to call Ale since I wouldn't see her this weekend. As far as I understand, Sebastian had to process something about his divorce, so she would stay at home in peace.

“Victoria! There you are, how have you been?” she asks when our faces meet on the screen.

“You have no idea how hot it is in this fucking place. I swear, it's disgusting.”

"You're in a bad mood, message received," she mocks. “I'm sure it can't be that bad.”

“It's terrible but it doesn't end there. I was known by the friendly Twitter community and now there are photos of me with teenagers saying how cute I am, which doesn't bother me because it's true but there are several comments that are horrible. They are idiots.”

"Don't look at the networks," she recommends. “They are wild. They will eat you alive for whatever reason and especially on Twitter.”

“Yes, neither on Thursday nor yesterday did they recognize me and today because they wanted to socialize they took photos of me. The key is to stop talking to people,” I dramatize.

“No, don't be stupid. You'll see that everything will be fine,” someone talking to Ale catches his attention and mine too. I thought I was alone.

"But dad said I could eat one," a childish voice whispers.

"I already let you eat two and I told you that the previous one was the last, girls," she explains patiently. “When dad comes back we'll convince him to let you have another one, but that's enough for today, okay?”

“Can we talk to your friend?” asks another little voice in the same tone. Ale smiles at them, nodding and two girls can be seen on the screen.

"Hello, girls," I greet them sweetly and they seem embarrassed. “I'm Victoria, Ale's friend.”

"They are Seb's daughters," she informs. “I'm taking care of them while…”

"While dad is divorcing mom," explains the one who seems to be the oldest. “My name is Emily.”

“And I am Matilda,” the girl with blonde curls introduces herself next to her. “Do you know my dad?”

“In fact, I work in the same sport as him but I only saw him once because Ale introduced him to me.”

“Ah, yeah. And what are you going to give her for her birthday?”

“Whom?”

"Ale," Matilda answers obviously. I look at the Italian with intrigue and she explains.

“My birthday is April 8th but I don't know if I will do anything. You know these are difficult days,” complicated days equal difficult times with Sebastian and his divorce. “I would love to do something but I don't know.”

“I hate my birthday, I´ve never enjoyed any. They only mean gifts bought by my parents' secretaries, ostentatious parties and posh people who don't even know who the birthday girl is. April 19th was never my day”

"That can change..." Ale exclaims with a smile and the little girls support her.

“If you don't like your birthday we can have a girls' night!”

“With movies!”

“And skincare!”

“And lots of desserts from Evie!” the little ones squeal with excitement, which makes me laugh. I never had much contact with children throughout my life but, for some reason, I get along very well with them when they are around me.

"Well, it sounds like the perfect plan to me," my friend confirms. "What do you say?" Vettel's bright eyes make me completely melt before them and give in. That girls' night out doesn't have to turn into a birthday celebration.

"I would love to," I tell the girls. “Oh, Ale, I didn't tell you. I tried Evie's cinnamon cookie, it's delicious.”

“And where did you get it from?”

“Well, you sent it to me, right?” the Italian remains recalculating for a second before her usual smile appears on her face.

“Of course yes. I'm glad you liked it.”

“What hadn't been...?” Emily begins to ask and her sister tells her to shut up.

“We have to hang up, okay? It's time to prepare dinner and you should rest. Goodbye, say goodbye, girls,” without giving me a chance to reply, Ale hung up the call.

March 27, Saudi Arabia

On race day everything seems like a hurricane: Toto is stressed, the drivers are stressed, the engineers are stressed. I think I'm the only calm one here, although the pressure of the environment is slowly starting to affect me. Despite that, and not being a sports fan, a tingle appears in my stomach when I see and feel the cars up close.

“Toto, can I bring you a decaf or something fresh?” I offer before leaving the garage in search of an escape.

"A Whiskey on the Rocks wouldn't hurt," he jokes in an attempt to relax. “I accept the decaf, thank you.”

This Grand Prix brought many controversial opinions with it, including a near suspension of the race in the face of what appeared to be a terrorist attack nearby on Friday, but no one can deny how beautiful the illuminated track looks.

Walk through the area pit to look for coffee in the farthest place I can find while I eat the rest of yesterday's cookie. It's already a little hard but still delicious. I pass by the garages of Ferrari, McLaren and Alpine, whose color stands out among the rest. Or maybe it's just Alonso's clown face printed everywhere that stands out. I still can't believe that a forty-year-old man would be so immature as to...

"Fuck," I complain when I collide with someone because of that Asturian asshole. “Sorry, I wasn't looking.”

"Neither do I, so we're even," the boy with the French accent and the pilot's suit helps me get up from the ground with an awkward smile. I bend down again to look for the wrapping that I had also dropped and that seems to catch his attention.

“You know about Bake-sonalities!? It's my girlfriend's bakery, she's the owner.”

“You're Evie's boyfriend!” I say once I connect the dots in my head. "I'm obsessed with your girlfriend's cookies," I tell him and it's a matter of a second to realize that that phrase sounded better in my head. “That didn't sound good at all.”

“Not at all!” he answers laughing. “I can't believe you brought cookies for the race.”

“Oh, no, it was a gift.”

“A gift...?” the boy opens his mouth with clear surprise. The nervousness invading his body was evident and impossible to hide. “Excuse me, what is your name?”

"Victoria," I introduce myself, extending my hand for him to shake and, although he does, his grip is loose as he continues with such a surprise.

“I'm Esteban, Evie's boyfriend. And I... you…” he hesitates and looks repeatedly towards his team's garage. “I hope you liked the cinnamon cookie. I have to go... do driver things with my partner. Goodbye,” the Frenchman says goodbye. Since I started working here I have experienced many strange situations but this is another level.

Once I decide to focus on looking for the coffee I was trying to find, I return to the garage so as not to miss a single second of the start of the race. Toto had given me some headphones so that I could become more familiar with, according to him, the language used on the track. As the race goes by, my expectation rises higher and higher, as does the adrenaline that consumes my body every time I hear one of the vehicles approaching for a quick tire change.

“But is this guy an idiot or what? He didn't go once in boxes and he intends to fight against Hamilton," I accidentally complained out loud. Those present raise their eyes from the screen and look at me with surprise. Everyone knows I don't have the slightest idea what to do to win a race or whatever we're trying to do. “Sorry.”

"Welcome to the team, Victoria," congratulates my boss and several of the people who surrounded us, and with whom we usually share some moments during the weekend, patting my shoulder, following the joke.

I spent the rest of the race in silence, embarrassed that I said something wrong or that someone didn't like me. The Mercedes drivers weren't able to get on the podium at this circuit either, so Tuesday will be a long day at the office with Toto looking for culprits. I decided to leave when I noticed that I was beginning to have leftovers in the garage with my boss's permission, of course. Luckily, the parking lot is almost empty as several fans left the circuit several hours ago.

The flashing lights of the car next to mine catch my attention and I notice the owner when I turn around. Fernando looks defeated. I'm not sure if it's because of the shitty race he had or because that same shitty race fucked him up physically. He doesn't seem to notice me until I unlock my car too. We don't say anything or greet each other, we just stare at each other for a few seconds before he decides to break what seemed like a trance on the part of both of us. I smile kindly at him before getting into the vehicle and heading to my hotel for the last time of the weekend. However, I can't help but wonder what becomes of Fernando on nights like these.

--------------------------

taglist:

@vettelsvee @bellinghamsbitch

#f1 #f1 fanfic #fanfiction #formula one #formula 1 #f1 x reader #fernando alonso #fernando alonso fanfic #fernado alonso x oc #f1 x female oc

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olderthannetfic · 10 months

Note

Hello, I I hope you're having a good now. I just had a question regarding comments and behaviors on AO3. Warning: Long comment.

-*-

I have been following a specific fic series for a few months now and once in a while I comment on it because I love that author and I want to help them stay motivated to write this research heavy fic until its conclusion as they have a tendency to drop their work when they're nearly finished due to steady streams of negative comments.

For some context, though, the stories they write are always ultra detailed, research intensive and most importantly, contain extremely dark themes (think rape, murders, graphic depiction of wounds, mental and physical torture, trauma layered on trauma, etc.). They also put a lot of effort into creating narratives in which every one of the characters' actions have positive or negative consequences. That is a core part of their storytelling.

The fanfic that they're writing at this moment contains a throughouly described scene of rape between two characters who happen to be middle-eastern. That event (as well as some other just as gruesome events) was tagged from the start's, had multiple warnings, was mentioned on the summary as well as the author's note and still only happened in chapter 19 out of 50. We are at what should be around 52k words in at that point.

So anyways, I leave a comment describing how I appreciate and love all the passion and effort that the author puts in their stories as well as how much I admire their talents to stay true to the characters they've chosen and how believable all their actions are in the fic's settings...

And myself, other commenters, and the author are being called racist by very a very vocal minority of readers(think commenting and responding to 98% of comments that so not voice their opinions)?

Like... what? For what reasons exactly? Apprently, and according to the negative commenter, it is racist and discriminatoring to write/read stories containing these elements with male characters that are of Muslim/Arabian heritage. The commenter then goes on a rant about how pathetic my comment was and how much the author took pride in bashing on Muslim/Arab men into making them rape machines and whatever else they can think about. They completely ignored the warnings they were given, and when they got told again about how many warnings they had, they still went on about how it shouldn't have been written from the start.

So my question is, how do you deal with those types of comments from a reader's perspective? Like... I wanna defend my author because I know that these comments will make them drop the fic like its hot coals... but I'm unsure which direction/s to go with it. I've already reported the more active commenters. Is the next step to keep reporting or to just defend my author in the comments?

Any help or guidance at this point is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading this entire thing. :'c

I don't think fighting in the comments is usually productive. If the author is the kind of person who finds that entertaining, they'll probably do it themselves.

Ignoring these people like they're delusional idiots making a public faux pas is probably more useful. Just keep on commenting on the author's skill.

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fountainpenguin · 3 months

Text

"I simply must go-" ("Baby, it's cold outside...") "The answer is 'No-'" ("But baby, it's cold outside...") (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 22 - “Fizzle (Bdubs, Scar, Mumbo)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Bdubs ruins the soul delivery route for everybody. Scar tolerates NPC_Grian's snark as best he can. Mumbo eats pizza and makes a new… friend?

Also, Scar follows up with Grian on the rumor that he's secretly trapped in his red life even in the Between dimension, one slip-up from a perma-death... That talk goes great!

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Bdubs - Phantom

Status: Morose

Captain of New Star Station’s Phantom Hybrid Flock

💙 🧡 💚

There are no horses in New Star Station. Not even one. Horse hybrids, sure, though they're not as common as you think. People have been saying for years that horses might be extinct in Between by now, but he's still got hope. You're sharing minds with Bdubs right now, just so we're on the same page. He's the guy with hope.

It's fine! There's no time in his schedule for horse caretaking anyway. Being captain is practically a full-time job. Seriously.

Phantoms don't need to go offline (as long as they're absorbing souls on the regular for the energy zing, of course). A phantom who goes more than three days without a single soul will start dropping the hunger meter fast, and if they can't find someone to eat, they'll probably go offline a while so they can rest and think things through.

It's all about energy. Even Scott's not immune to naptime, no matter how hard he denies it. Have you ever seen him sleep when he's on-server for like, the Life series and stuff? He's out cold. Might as well be in free-cam with how little reaction you'll get out of his body. Maybe he really does go into free-cam and wander around, pretending he's sleeping when he's really not. Scott's the type who can't settle down for anything. Maybe that's why he's so big on cozy little builds.

But the thing about 'No horses in New Star' is, well… Not having horses doesn't leave him with much to do on nights like this when he's stripped of title and stripped of wings. He should probably be taking Brittney out to dinner, but since he wasn't expecting to, y'know… Lose his wings this weekend, he didn't make reservations early enough. Brittney's fine! She's doing Gals' Night tonight with Cocoa, Jewel, Ferks, and Vera. They'll have fun. Bdubs snorts, kicking his foot against the edge of town square's fountain.

A stubborn sniffer, an athletic ravager, a sharp-eyed hoglin, a parkour-loving axolotl, and a beefy glow squid walk into a bar… Now that's a group you don't wanna mess with. The ravager is not the one with the most XP in her close combat skill. And Bdubs knows firsthand that as mellow as his beloved wife is, she's not afraid to headbutt or wrestle around. Look- phantoms do wrestle, but even Bdubs finds himself all too easily pinned when facing a woman with four arms.

I should bring her some chocolates. Not back to their server, obviously, but they've got an apartment he's spent… way too little time in lately. Bdubs stares down at his reflection in the fountain water. His mossy cloak sways, hands tucked in his pants pockets beneath. No wings. Nobody paying him any mind. Hhh… Well. Brittney still loves him. And even though she's got a Gals' Night going on, it's not hard to be romantic. He does this all the time, obviously.

Plucking blossoms off the cherry trees is going to be such a pain without wings.

I mean, it's just temporary… He'll get his wings back after someone cycles him through the system, but that'll knock him out for a week if he's not careful. The secret plan is to join Cub in Hermitcraft tidying - They're down to the last couple days before the Season 9 download drops, you know - and then treat the guy to dinner tonight. Scar ate last week. So did Etho's mystery vex… whoever he is.

See, that's the problem. Since unthreading's illegal, it's not like there are lots of other vex to choose from. Phantoms have a game balance stipulation in their code that prevents them from logging each other out properly, so submitting to a vex is the easiest way to go. Not a lot of other vex besides those two around, which is such a shame. Sure, New Star Station is a refuge, but most of its residents peaced out of the anarchy world before they ever mod up (either forcibly or of their own will).

Modding is a skilled art, especially if you're looking for body tweaks that will stay consistent in and out of different servers (not to mention Between). Tango's one of the best aesthetics modders Bdubs has ever met. That lion-like tail he wears wherever he goes? That's free advertising. Do you have any idea how hard it is to code an additional limb like that, and make it prehensile and expressive at the same time? Yeah. Tango's your guy if you like looking pretty.

What? Oh, yeah. There's zero horses in New Star. Bdubs already logged out a straggler who dropped to phantom hour and refused to pathfind home, too busy flirting instead. Combined with the "Thanks for being a captain; here's your parting meal" thing from yesterday, his hunger bar's topped off. No point in hunting. There's nothing else to do if you're a phantom except whatever the captain orders. And Martyn tasked him with the delivery route.

Bdubs climbs the clock tower and ducks inside the storage room. Pungence already prepped a satchel of souls for delivery. He always does. Good on him. Some people have an easier time hunting than others (Physically and/or emotionally). Bdubs slings it over his shoulder and turns out the lanterns. He shuts the storage room door, but leaves it slightly propped so it won't auto-lock. None of the fox eggs look like they've hatched yet. Hard to tell, though… Most are under a blanket. A few sit by a magma block.

Bdubs glances at the stairwell, but Martyn stomped off with Cleo. He'll be back soon, of course, of course, but… Don't they need to be rotated? That's what Etho always says. Etho used to eggsit for his mom all the time before he finally moved out of her den and settled long-term in New Star.

The fox eggs are Martyn's responsibility. It does him no favors if Bdubs handles everything for him. But… Bdubs walks over and touches one of the exposed eggs with a hand. He yanks his fingers back.

Too hot. Oh, they're cookin'.

Dozens and dozens of eggs lay cozied up in warm wool blankets all around the roost. Bdubs shifts the eggs nearest the magma block away and replaces them with the eggs at the farthest blanket edges. He tucks the blanket under a bit more, sends Martyn a whisper - Leaving for delivery route, eggs look kinda cold btw but I rotated the ones on the magma - and heads downstairs again. Every step clunks and clangs. When he reaches the bottom, he's got a response from Martyn… but it's not much to look at.

InTheLittleWood: k

All right. If that's all he has to say, that's all he has to say. So off on the delivery route he goes.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

#trafficblr #Grian #GoodTimesWithScar #desert duo #MumboJumbo #BdoubleO100 #SnifferMyFeet #The Buttercups #ridwriting #Dog's Life #Dog's Life art #apparently art #fic announcement #mcyt #Pixels Imperfect #Sniff and Pig #NPC Grian

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charliebread34 · 17 days

Text

"All work no play"

By charliebread34

Summary: come In for an interview and come out victorious 🗣🔥

Tags: (derek x reader) first chapter, set before movie, fluf, might be boring lol. Use of y/n sorry

Working was something you cared very little about, but as you've come to realize apartments don't rent themselves. Jumping job to job became a pain in the ass until your bestie, an intern at Danforth Enterprises, claims that there is a perfect opening for front desk or assistant for you. Being saved by your bestfriend once again.

After arriving, seeing the towering building filled you with anxiety. You grasped your resume tightly to the side of your hip and walked in. Marble ran up the walls of the building and so did glass. The lighting was cold but soft. You rung up with the front desk and got directed to where your interview would be held.

As walked to the elevator you hear the sound of plastic grinding on marble. You looked up to see a man glide past you on skateboard before stopping. You looked at him with surprise from the professional tones of office his eccentric clothes and attitude made him stick out. Which maybe was the purpose.

He chuckles as you stare to long in confusion and grabs his board. He smiles and you see his eyes take all of you in for a second. His single earing and frosted tips bobbing a bit was the only sign he was checking you out but you decided to ignore him.

"Haven't seen you before" he stands next to you his eyes finally looking into yours. He ran a hand through his curls. "Don't talk much dear?"

You realize you've been staring and scoff awkwardly. "Sorry ugh yes I'm here for an interview"

"So haven't gotten the job yet? Well I'm sure it will be well wouldn't want a thing like you slipping away" from that alone you smiled a bit. Usually you wouldn't give some one flirting the time of day but this was a nice exception. From his words alone it was obvious he was a higher up you wonder what he does.

"Oh uh thank you but yeah just heading for my interview" you point to the elevator. You tried keeping interaction short and pull away a bit towards the elevator.

"I was just going there right now" he smiles and follows you. What a liar you just saw him come out minutes ago with his skateboard but it wasn't like you could ward him of especially since he hasn't done anything wrong. As you climb into the elevator you press the button for your floor.

He leans on the railing, resting his skateboard down a bit on the elevator walls. His smile was soft but his eyes told a different story. He Ogles you but he was rather nice.

Maybe I should introduce myself...I'm derek" he puts his hand out and you take it. Your smile slides as you repeat his name in your head ...derek...derek...derek danforth. You have been talking to the ceo of danforth enterprises and you didn't even realize.

"Oh I'm (y/n)" you try to bring back your smile not to show your intimidation.

"Aw don't tell me your scared dear. I don't bite" You smile briefly.

"Then what do you do?" Maybe flirting a bit back won't hurt.

"Work, been real bust lately especially after my assistant quit....maybe you'd like to help with that?" Work for him? That was an option? Or maybe he was just joking.

"Not sure how I can I barely have that kind of experience" he pokes your arm and free the resume from your hands and reads it.

"I think I can work with this dear...unless you don't want to work for me?" He flips through it and you find amazed. Do you want to work with him? His offer is better than going to that interview and gambling it. It wasn't like anyone else needed you at the moment.

"No no that's sounds like a great offer, I'm sure I can manage" he closes your resume and tucks it under his arm.

"Well then it's settled dear you'll work with me..." he shuffles a hand through his hair. "Be here Monday just tell the front desk and they'll direct you to me and we can get you started dear"

The elevator beeps and opens to the floor you were supposed to leave off but you stay. Derek walks out not before turning around to wave and give you a friendly smile.

"See you monday!"

Chapter one 😘

Thanks pookies for all the support 🥹

#derek danforth x reader #derek danforth #fanfic #the beekeeper #i ❤️ him #office #josh hutcherson #im mentally ill

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armoricaroyalty · 5 months

Text

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

author's note: as always, the incredible Leonor belongs to the incredible @nexility-sims. If you love her as much as i do, i have WONDERFUL NEWS for you because n. has just starting posting a mini-series about Leonor set in 1990-1992, which you can and should read here. For real, it's fantastic - I've had the privilege of reading a few posts early and it's going to be absolutely incredible. Do yourself a favor and follow her immediately.

Transcript under the cut!

Canaris // Armorican State Visit - Day 4

[waves crash] [feet scuffing in sand] LEONOR | ...have you thought about what you're going to do, after? ANDRE | A little. ANDRE | I'm going to buy a little farm. LEONOR | A farm? ANDRE | Yeah. In Tartosa. ANDRE | You sound surprised. LEONOR | I guess I just can't picture you on a farm. ANDRE | Why not? I like a little project. LEONOR | I've just never thought of you as a workhorse, that's all. ANDRE | No? That was always Elise's role, I suppose. LEONOR | Your wife is a remarkable woman. ANDRE | [sighs] She always has been. ANDRE | You know, I've started to think that maybe it's all for the best. LEONOR | How so? ANDRE | Her image has always been tied to mine. ANDRE | In the papers, she's always been just a wife, just a mother. Maybe now, they'll let her stand on her own. ANDRE | She'll have a decade—or longer!—in the public eye without me. Plenty of time for her to decide how she wants to be remembered. ANDRE | She's already given so much of her life in service to the Crown. She deserves to build a legacy of her own. I'm glad she'll have that chance. LEONOR | Yes, well...what about us? ANDRE | What about us? LEONOR | When will we see each other again. ANDRE | Soon, darling. LEONOR | But when? We've been waiting for so long. ANDRE | So what's a little longer? LEONOR | Hmph. I'm tired of saying goodbye, Andre. ANDRE | I know, my love. This is the last time. LEONOR | Is that a promise? ANDRE | Yes. Once I settle things at home, we'll be together. ANDRE | I promise.

#armorica story #chapter 3 #behind the scenes #armorica collabs #nexility sims #character: leonor reyes #character: andre st. fleur #infidelity cw

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funficwriter · 6 months

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A Wolf and A Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

Chapter 3: In the Low Gardens

A/N: Thank you all so much for being patient with me! I wanted this chapter to be fun to read, but had so little time to write this week. I just hope I have a little more freedom in the future. Anyways, enjoy!

Synopsis: Being a noble meant that marriage was a chess game, not an affair of love. Unfortunately for the pristine Balthazar family of Fontaine, Y/N has long been enamored with love and sought it out before their priorities. After her grey, boring time of courtesy, she meets Duke Wriothesley, who makes her yearn for the first time in her life, and it's the same for him. Threatened by the idea of losing this first, it seems they'll stop at very little to be together...

Taglist: @yue-caelum, @reyy-chanx, @mis-disaster, @ladyarchiviste, @keigo-hawks-takami-simp

Warnings: Talk of murder/violence/corruption, yandere talk, Wrio gets a lil primal, a few smutty details, does scheming behind the back count as a warning? Lol

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Your parents were not the type to sing, least of all sing to express joy. But whenever they peered at you from the balcony, they looked like they could explode in song any minute. They never looked as jubilant, as proud of their daughter as they saw her, arm linked with the chivalrous and gentle Duke Archandelle.

You supposed any other girl would kill to be in your place. Duke Archandelle hailed from a long and well-respected lineage, and made a fortune for both himself and Fontaine's economy through his commerce. He was rather handsome, had a voice described as 'light honey with mint', and towered over you, the lady he was going to protect with that advantage. Hopefully, for the rest of your lives. On top of that, he was cultured, up-to-date with Fontaine's classical and modern trends, but was no pansy; He was an excellent swordfighter and hunter. You almost heard their voices yelling at you: "You've got the perfect gentleman falling at your feet, and you're not grateful?! How dare you!".

There you two were, in one of your manor's many gardens. This was the highest, prettiest one of all, and had a lovely table among the flowers where you would soon take your tea. Both of you were well-dressed, engaged in conversation (he carried most of it) and took tiny steps to ensure it stayed that way. You looked like the perfect royal Fontainian couple. Add on the fact that Archandelle has decreed himself 'fervently in love' with you, and didn't look like he was going to give up... No wonder your parents were probably even happier than they were on their own wedding day.

'Fervently in love', my ass. If I wasn't so angry, I'd laugh. Maybe with his stupid monologues or my last name's history book... My Wriothesley could teach him a thing or two about love.

"And I say, it was so dastardly for them to write that ending! I mean, to let these filthy 'protagonists' get away with their crimes! I can think of youngsters reading this novel. What will they think? How are we raising them and- My dear, are you with me?".

The funny thing about his tirades was how they can be condensed to the same strand of puritanism, either outrageous or righteous. You barely had to listen and should he feel testy, you had an answer.

"Ah, forgive me, my dear Duke. I was just appalled at the text, to the point where I didn't know what to say. But do know I'm in full agreement!".

He beamed: "Why, of course you are. Your parents raised a fine and virtuous young lady who knows right from wrong.".

Your agreement seemed to have calmed him down. He stopped to take your hand and kiss it.

"One of the countless reasons I fell in love with you.".

Liar!

You wished you could shut him up. As he embodied the peak of your social class, he also had all the ideas you wanted to criticize as loud as you can, but couldn't risk. One of them was this picking on cultural output not based on whether it was good, whether they liked it, but whether it was 'moral' or not. What's more is the power they hold. Should something not be 'moral', that would mean another secret trip to the bookstore for you, before it got fully banned.

Though you couldn't shut him up, you had two tools up your arsenal: The first was thinking of Wriothesley, which made you surprisingly more patient than you imagined. The second was hearing Archandelle be less of a whiner, more of an admirer.

"Say, my Lord, surely you've seen some good plays where this doesn't happen, right? I'm sure we'll all need good recommendations.".

Once again, he beamed, and you could tell he was restricting himself from being too physical. But perhaps he felt a bit more daring, because he put an arm around your waist and carried on walking, while talking about 'good' plays he's seen (which you were sure were total dogshit if it came from him.).

The butler had called you for tea time. It wasn't the day for your favorite dessert, but a quick wink from Agatha, who was passing by, let you know who twisted his arm into bending the unofficial rule. You felt a bit of remorse for not being able to tell her who you really liked, but you decided to do it when you were in a more secure position with Wriothesley.

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Curse whoever decided that falling in love with a half-wolf (or any hybrid, for that matter) was a curse, and bless your own canine lover for using his affinity towards the night to pick this one. The stars shined along with the soft moon, with only a few cloudy wisps passing by. The air was crisp, cooling but not so much that you had to stay in.

The hour struck. Your heart did a leap so brusque, you had to take a deep breath. The clock said it all: It was time.

You picked a simple dress for your rendez-voux; Flattering, but no hassle. Your mother wasn't fond of it, because she thought it didn't 'do justice to your beauty'. Another one of millions of differences between you two, separating her and your father into the loud and showy sun, while you counted the minutes until you could entangle your hand into his under the moon. Though everyone slept, the night was still young... Should you desire it, would more than that happen?

No one could police your desires if you thought of them.

Let him hold me again. Let him hold me securely, claiming me as his under the full moon as his own culture decrees. I'm asking a lot... But please, let him kiss me before Duke Archandelle does and let him scream it out to the world so it could throw me into his arms.

As you made your way down, your reverie was only interrupted when you passed by your elder brother's room. Being married, he split his time between his new villa and your manor. You weren't looking forward to his next visit, especially when he caught wind of your 'engagement' with Duke Archandelle and sent you a long, pompous letter congratulating you as his 'equally prestigious sister, upholding the Balthazar's powerful unions'. Ugh.

In retrospect, perhaps you should have hurried along; Just after you continued, you bumped into a curvaceous figure you knew well (after all, she held you more than your mother) and made an audible "Ow!".

So much for not being caught, least of all by your own hissing governess. Should you be caught, she'd surely get heat for not making sure you were in bed.

"Y/N! What are you doing out of bed? You have lessons tomorrow, don't you?".

As she talked, she pulled you away from your brother's door and the bedrooms of the floor. After all, she was just in as much danger as you were.

"Agatha! Hey, um... I was... I was going down to grab a glass of water. I'm thirsty.".

Forget the fact that you weren't in your sleeping attire and that your voice was racked in nerve. How could you have hoped to lie to her, your true mother figure who knew every inkling of you hiding something on your face? Her quirked-up brows clearly let you know that she didn't buy it, but what really made you want to spill the beans was the slight glimmer in her eyes: She was hurt by you lying to her.

"Really, Y/N? After all those years, you think I'd believe that? I have raised you as my own, yet you act as if I were hired this morning.".

"Agatha, I'm so sorry. Please don't be sad, I'll tell you but...".

You couldn't believe it; You were about to tell someone that you were seeing another man behind your arranged partner's back. It would be one thing if he were some king and your parents were idiots at making their final verdict. But you were seeing Duke Wriothesley of Meropide. You were seeing a wolf-hybrid, a dangerous kind to human beings (even though you'd argue that correlation does not equal causation). You were seeing a prison warden, a polite but hardy, brutish man.

Agatha could sense that your secret was a big one. She ran a hand through your head: "My dear, I've always kept your secrets, haven't I? What is so scary that you would hide it from me of all people?".

"Oh, Agatha, it's not scary at all. It's wonderful and lovely and beautiful. It makes me get out of bed with hope in my heart. it sends me to sleep as the happiest girl of Teyvat.".

Her face broke out into a smile: "By Focalors! What is it then?".

"But I'm the only one who sees it that way! It's not scary to me at all. He brings me all the joy in my life, and yet if anyone found out that would spell the end of me and him! Agatha, why did you have to be up tonight of all nights?".

A moment of silence eclipsed, you wallowing in the realization that you gave her a hint. In both your hearts, you felt that she knew you didn't like Duke Archandelle, as with most royal women. But to go to the lengths of seeing another man... Did she think you had it in you?

"Who is he, Y/N?".

"Duke Wriothesley of Meropide. We snuck by the last two socials, and we were planning to meet up tonight in the low gardens.".

You could see the shock in her face. Anyone would be, pairing you with him of all gentlemen. You couldn't blame her. If anything, you wanted to burst in tears, put your head at her feet and thank her for her tolerance. Rather than alerting even the most insignificant servant in the house, she patted your hand and stayed.

"Does he make you happy?".

"Yes. Happy enough to live.".

"That's a lot of happiness. A level you've always deserved, but if you're honest, only recently acquired. If at last my prayers for your joy are answered and they come in his form, who am I to judge you?".

A small, meek smile made its way on her face. You threw your arms around her shoulders.

"Thank you, Agatha, thank you!".

She helped you up, then looked out of the window. Whether it was at the skies or the gardens below, you couldn't tell nor had the time to ask. She grabbed your hand and continued the way downstairs.

"Let's not keep him waiting.".

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You stepped out, feeling light and relaxed under the cool moon. Then there he was: Your very own prince charming, who was expectantly waiting in front of the garden's backdoor. His ears perked up. Once he saw you, your time of admiration from afar was over. A few loud steps resonated before you felt his embrace engulf you, and at last you were in his arms and everything felt (was) alright.

What made it better was his reciprocation; From the big, dumb smile, to the twitching ears (how cute!) to the feeling of his strong muscles protecting you from whatever misery could strike you right then and there...

"If I told you of how much my heart screamed out for you, you wouldn't hear the end of it.".

He kissed your hand as per usual. You supposed that if you wanted more, you had to catalyze it yourself: "I don't want to hear its end, Wriothesley.".

You didn't have to hear it, for you were still held against him. His heart was beating frenetically, reverberating into your own body.

Only when he looked up and saw Agatha, that wonder dwindled.

"What the... Who are you?".

"Wait, Wrio. She's on our side. She's the only one who supports our romance.".

He let out a small 'oh', trying to relax but with worry clear on his face. Agatha, being ever so talented at soothing, stepped in.

"Greeting, Lord Wriothesley. I am Y/N's governess. Forgive me for being out, I wasn't supposed to know of this. I just caught her by accident, but I promise I won't tell a soul.".

He took a moment before speaking up: "Agatha? Oh, Y/N has mentioned you before. In that case, I'm glad it was you who caught her, and no one else. And thank you for keeping up the secrecy, though it won't be that way forever. I intend to marry her, one way or another.".

"Frankly, anyone who can take care of her and makes her happy is great, in my opinion.".

Her warm, motherly smile has lowered many people's guards. You could tell his worry was fading away, knowing she could be trusted. He nodded one more time, and off you two went. The good thing about the low gardens was the fact that unless someone was close, no one could hear you. It was the 'abandoned' garden per se. While it wasn't as grand as the higher ones, it had many beautiful flowers, a lake, and you could never uncouple your memories of playing hide-and-seek there with Agatha or your friends.

But nevertheless, it didn't stop your displeasure at the fact that you weren't recognized at his yet. You wanted to show all of Teyvat who you really loved, who had the right to call you 'mine'.

"I wish... I wish I could have shown you the higher gardens.".

He squeezed your hand and you looked up to him. You could have died with the beautiful vision in front of you: Did the moon make his piercing eyes glow better, or was that just you?

"My love, there will be a day where we can stroll out in the open, in whatever garden you want. And besides...".

He looked on his surroundings as you kept walking, now linking arms.

"I like the secrecy aspect that comes with this one. It's like... Like our social world doesn't want you to be mine. And yet here and now, you are. Always were, always will be.".

It made you blush. It only got worse when you wanted to tuck a piece of hair, and he caught a glance at the wolf bracelet: "And from the looks of it, you want to be all mine, don't you?".

"Oh, yes. I wear it all the time Father isn't around. I'm sorry if I was morose earlier. It's the fact that I can't stand being someone else's fiancée, especially when I had no say in the matter.".

"Don't beat yourself up. I know well that we're on the same wavelength. I'm already scheming on it, too...".

While you loved talking about being his, you knew that alone wasn't enough. There had to be some sort of plan, some idea as to how he'd get you. And much to your happiness, he wasn't empty-headed to doom you to just keeping your affair, an affair. You leaned close to listen.

"So I'm presuming he wants to marry you because of your family name, yes? Like all other shitty noble marriages...".

You laughed a bit: "That's the one.".

"I already have an investigator to look further into his. Depending on whether he committed serious crime, going above the general corruption that's too often seen and brushed aside, you as his future wife have the right to file for a 'Motion of Marital Worry'. Then the Court could look into how that may affect you, and thus stop you from marrying him even if your father objects.".

This was... Wonderful.

"Why, Wriothesley, I love a man who's proactive! But I have one worry about this plan: Fontaine may be less corrupt than other nations, but there's still crime that's deemed as 'not serious', especially from our class. What if they bribe someone? That's what always happens.".

"Nah, don't worry. I myself am well acquainted with some... Important figures in the judicial system. They'll be sure to look out for such a motion with your name or mine on it. And if the crime is very serious, there's no way they'll turn their head.".

He stopped walking, letting the soft howl of the wind play out before continuing: "And anyways, that's only the first plan. I've got more ideas in case it doesn't work.".

"You really think ahead, eh?".

"If it concerns you? I think about it all the time. Even my sleep is yours.".

All the time. All the time, for me. This union was nothing like the trash your father wanted to force you in. In the other one, you belonged to Archandelle, but contrary to his spiel about love, he didn't belong to you. Maybe not other women if he were 'loyal', but you saw his attitude towards seeing you as a Balthazar, versus seeing you as... You. He really only belonged to himself.

"Don't worry. If he didn't do anything, I'll just make him. If his hand is clean, I'll twist it until it bleeds then yell bloody murder until he's sentenced for life.".

Wriothesley long made it clear, and he kept making it clear to reassure you. His loving gaze, his obsession, his thought of you that went as far as remembering everything you've ever loved or told him (and believe me, it's a lot) said it all: He belonged to you, and you belonged to him, as true love should be.

You stroked his cheek, taking in his eyes as he did yours: "And when you twist him into the wrangled, bloody mess you can make... I'll cheer you on. I'll praise like I'm watching the greatest of theater.".

Perhaps it was the fact that everything has been so dreary, or that the full moon just made people playful, but you broke away from him, your arms brusquely rejecting him and giving you distance. His stunned look hurt you a bit, but the fun you wanted was priceless.

"But Duke Wriothesley, the prince must always fight hard for the one he desires, yes?".

His boot made a quiet crunch as he approached you, and you took a step back. In a way, it was fun, withholding yourself from him as he ached for you. However, he reciprocated your playful smirk, understanding what your intention was. As you stepped back, you did the occasional twirl as your dress flowed with the moon's shine.

Teasing him was so fun: "Aren't I right? Isn't what he desires most, the most guarded and forbidden by everyone else? Shouldn't he be ready to do anything if he loves the princess that much?".

"My... Are you underestimating the limits I'll break to call you my wife? While I try to be calm to avoid prejudice, I have no issue tuning into my violent side if it's for you.".

The string snapped. You turned back and ran off: "We'll see about that, Your Grace!".

How long has it been since you ran? You forgot the freedom, the breeziness it offered.

"I'll make you see, alright!"

But that wasn't where your true excitement laid. It was the quicker, heavier crunching sound right behind you.

Off the wolf went, chasing down his partner. He had the advantage of being fit, and his hybrid blood granting him more speed than the average human. But you were also flighty and you knew the garden better than he did. Whenever he thought he had you, you ran back another corner, and even pulled your tongue at him if he was far enough.

At some point, you hid close to the lake. He had not reached this area yet, so you were safe to catch your breath. If only this could last beyond your couple of hours together! Not even factoring the end yet, you thought of him, smiling and chasing you both literally and figuratively. Only when you looked down to check on your dress, did you notice your legs clenching tight and the sudden warmth, the higher you went...

Perhaps you should have remembered that you were still being chased, ergo had no more time than a few quick breaths. You didn't hear the rustle of the bushes. Before you knew it, large hands grabbed your waist and their owner let out a victorious growl, lifting you up.

"Oh no, the wolf got me!".

"Damn right, he did! Now you're his to devour!".

He wanted to carry on, but a loving state always reduces one to recklessness. He tripped on a pebble, but made sure to switch so he'd take the fall rather than you. Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as he expected.

"Wriothesley, my dear! Are you okay?".

He chuckled at your worried face: "Nah, don't worry. It was way softer than I expected. Hah...".

A crimson blush spread upon both of your faces (but especially yours). It just dawned on you: You were on top of him, like on his body, and the chase excited him in the same way it did you. His red cheeks and the hard poke you felt against your thigh said it all.

"Archons, I... I'm so sorry, Y/N. I tend to enjoy that sort of stuff, running around and chasing...".

"It's okay... I enjoyed it, too...".

The time stopped when you (slowly, yet surely) shook off the awkwardness, as you sat up in his lap. How do you proceed from there? How do you deal with feeling so clueless in what you want? You barely processed that, as you ran a hesitant hand through his hair.

"I really like your ears.".

"There it is.".

His arms tightened around your waist as he replayed the phrase in his head: "I really like your ears.". And you liked his dark attire above all the others'. And you liked his voice and his way of comportment, and by Focalors, you were madly in love with the human and wolf halves of him, never conditionally or pretending some part of him did not exist.

In the midst of this prolonged yearning, you two could no longer wait. He leaned down and sealed his promises with the kiss you've long thought of and saved just for him.

The full moon made its appearance on the lake reflection. The wind rustled the plants around you a bit. Unbelieving that this was actually happening, you pulled him in closer, wishing you could merge your bodies together. Even when you were dipping slower, slower into the ground, you knew he wouldn't let you fall harshly. You knew his tight grip was ever present to protect you from that or any other dangers, and its warmth of love and appreciation was only for you.

And you took in his mint breath, each time breathing in more and more. You were starved for your lover, and so was he, keeping you in his arms and away from a world that wanted you two apart. It already did enough of that throughout the day. The night was yours.

You two broke away, panting and looking into each other's diluted pupils. Sometimes, you couldn't believe how being with him was like having your own puppy. He whispered: "I love you with the marrow of my bones.", before dipping his head into your neck to kiss it. If marrying him, sharing the same bed, meant you could nuzzle your face into his fluffy hair, you had another reason to fight away from your other suitor.

Happy with its softness against your running hand and face, and his sweet kisses, you couldn't help but purr out: "I can't wait until... Until we can do this all the time, whenever we want.".

"Hah... And that time will come. I've already handed so much to the world, I'm not handing you out too.".

He looked up at the sky to tell the time, then chuckled in a morose manner: "Time sure flies by when I'm with you. It's like I lose control over it so easily.".

He made a sad, but true point; For one, you had to head back into your chambers, because dawn would emerge soon enough and you needed time to change, actually sleep... There was also the fact that even if he got onto the active part of taking you from your father and Archandelle (funny, you just remembered his name), your parents would probably want to have you married soon. Time was of the essence, and that essence was short-lived and impossible to take back.

As he walked you back to the backdoor, hands squeezed tight, he leaned in: "My dear, can I ask you for a favor?".

"Of course. Anything for you.".

"Next time you have to meet that idiot your parents call 'your fiancé', look at whether he behaves out of the norm. Specifically, if he's nervous or uncomfortable. Or maybe if he talks more about politics.".

"I see...".

"Nobles who feel like they have something to hide always act like that. Depending on what's found against him, he could be called for questioning. That's enough to cause unrest.".

You laughed: "As with every other noble guy. You'll probably find worse skeletons in my father's closet.".

"The question isn't whether there are skeletons. It's how you use them.".

You liked that idea a lot, enough to make you smirk. Now that you thought about it, there were many 'skeletons' around you, especially those belonging to your father. And now, you were growing into a position where you could use them, where you could be as knowledgeable in the law as Wriothesley and use it to your advantage. Sure, that might get you called 'disgraceful', but you'd be ripping yourself away from them faster, ergo into your lover. And if Fontaine was all about fairness, what was happening to you was unfair. You were just rectifying an error.

"Uh-oh. My mischievous darling is smiling like that of all ways. What do you have in mind?".

"I just liked what you said. It feels a lot like how the world works.".

"It's not far off.".

Agatha was sitting down next to the backdoor. She stood up and bowed, but her smile grew bigger when she caught sight of your intertwined hands. You felt very lucky to have her by your side.

Before bidding goodnights, Wriothesley turned you to him, and kissed you one more time, before stroking a strand of hair from your face: "Dream of me. Let us meet in the realm of sleep and continue this, until we won't have to dream anymore.".

"I promise.".

Much to your heavy heart, you headed back in, and he was off to the nearest teleportation waypoint. The ending of your meetings always brought sadness to your heart, but he worked so hard for a reason; He would rather die than you two not be together. His very passion was you, and you knew that if he was yours, some things had to be done. And you were sure that could happen, starting with the favor.

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"Y/N, you said he made you the happiest girl of Teyvat?".

"Yes.".

"Well, you sure look like that right now! How was it?".

#yandere genshin x reader #yandere wriothesley x reader #yandere reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader

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