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sidekick-hero · 3 months

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Written for the @steddielovemonth prompt: Love is being willing to wait for them.

Eddie was six years old when he first met Steve, not that he would remember it until much, much later.

The boy Eddie met that day was sweet and a little shy, perhaps because he was so small for his age. He was a year younger than Eddie, only five, which was forever in Eddie's eyes. He felt responsible for the little boy somehow, so he walked up to him on the deserted playground to make sure he was okay.

"'Ello!" Eddie exclaimed, holding out his hand for Steve to shake, like he'd seen his daddy do all the time when they were in town. His dad called it part of the Munson charm, whatever that was, and Eddie wanted to be as cool as his dad. "I'm Eddie, who are you?"

The boy looked up at Eddie with big eyes and made no move to take Eddie's hand, so Eddie reached out and took the boy's hand in his own and shook it wildly.

"See, that's how you do it. And then you say your name. Let's try it again!" Eddie decided, still pumping the boy's hand. "I'm Eddie."

"Steve," the boy said with a slight lisp, and Eddie thought maybe he hadn't said his name earlier because he was afraid Eddie would make fun of him for it. The other kids made fun of him a lot, for a lot of reasons that Eddie didn't really understand. All he knew was that he didn't like it; it made him sad. Especially since none of the other kids would play with him, so he had to go on his adventures all alone, fighting the big dragon without a trusted knight at his side.

Perhaps Steve could be his knight.

"Will you help me slay the big dragon, Steve?" Eddie asked, suddenly excited at the prospect of finally having someone to play with. "He stole all our gold, so we have to slay him!"

He was still holding Steve's hand, but he dropped it as he began to imitate how they would fight the beast with their swords. "I'm a mage because my mom says every fairy tale needs a good fairy or a mage to help the hero defeat the villain. And you can be that hero, Steve! I'll help you with my magic," Eddie promised, his whole face breaking into a wide grin.

Steve giggled, but Eddie thought it wasn't like the other kids laughing at him. It sounded nice, like Steve was enjoying Eddie's antics. "What do you think, Sir Steve?"

Between bursts of pearly laughter, Steve eagerly agreed, but then paused to ask Eddie in a suddenly serious tone, "But why don't you wanna be the hero?"

"I'm no hero, Stevie! I'm a mage, didn't you hear me? I can do magic to help the hero, because only together can we defeat the beast." Eddie explained in an equally serious tone, because killing dragons was serious business.

"Okay," Steve agreed. "How do we fight a dragon? I never fought a dragon before."

Eddie explained his plans to Steve, and together they ran and climbed around the playground in search of the dragon. It was the most fun Eddie had had in a long time. Steve was the best hero ever; he listened to Eddie's ideas and had some surprisingly fun ones of his own. They forgot everything around them, caught up in a world of make-believe, until a woman's voice startled them out of their play.

"Steve! Steven, where are you? If your parents come home and you're not there, they'll fire me," the woman grumbled before shouting again. "Steve!"

Eddie looked at Steve questioningly as the voice came closer.

"That's Lucy, she's looking after me 'cause my parents don't have time," Steve explained in a low voice. "I have to go." He looked very sad when he said that and Eddie already missed his bright smile.

"That's okay, Stevie, we can kill the dragon tomorrow!"

That made Steve perk up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah! I'll wait for you here tomorrow!"

"Thanks, Eddie!" Steve exclaimed, throwing his arms around Eddie in a tight hug before running off to find the woman.

The next day, Eddie was back at the playground as soon as he could get away from their house, telling his mama that he had finally made a friend and now they had to kill the dragon. "He's my hero, Mom, and I'm his mage, just like in the fairy tales!" He told her, and she hugged him tightly before making him and Steve two sandwiches, because "slaying dragons is hard work and makes you hungry'.

Steve wasn't there when Eddie arrived at the playground, so Eddie sat down on the swings and waited for his new friend.

He waited until the first signs of dawn reached the playground, and he had to eat both sandwiches because he was hungry, and drink all the water his mama had packed.

Eddie only left when it got dark, and he knew his mama would be worried. But he was back the next day, and the next. Every day for weeks, Eddie waited for Steve on the swing, always wondering why his new friend didn't want to play with him anymore.

Eddie never made a connection between his Stevie and King Steve. How could he, when King Steve was all aloof and arrogant, looking down on people like Eddie and walking the halls of Hawkins High with that haughty grin on his face. The boy wasn't his hero, and Eddie wouldn't dream of using his magic to help him.

Funnily enough, the first time Steve's sight sparked any kind of recognition in Eddie was when Eddie pinned him against a boathouse wall with a bottle against his neck. Stripped of his usual confidence by surprise and fear, Steve looked somehow... small. He sounded even smaller as he tried to reassure Eddie that he meant no harm, and the sound of his voice made something tingle at the back of Eddie's mind.

Steve was different than Eddie had expected, to say the least.

At times, he was snarky and bitchy. But not in the mean way he had been in high school. He was all bark and no bite. And he was good to Eddie's sheep, to all the kids, really. Like a big brother, a protector. A knight in shining armor who stood between them and danger.

And not just for the kids, for everyone.

Steve jumped into a dark, deep lake not knowing what awaited him; fought demonic bats with bare hands and teeth, losing more flesh than seemed healthy.

Steve was a hero, and later Eddie berated himself for not realizing it sooner, but hindsight is 20/20, and he only understood that Steve Harrington was indeed his Stevie when it was too late to do anything about it.

Eddie was almost sure when they stole the RV together, because the way Steve grinned at him just before they switched positions and Steve sped out of the trailer park reminded him so much of the sweet boy he once knew.

The boy he never really stopped waiting for.

When Steve asked Dustin and Eddie not to be cute, not to be heroes, he decided to test his theory.

"We're not heroes," he told Steve, and when Dustin said “you can be the hero, Steve” Eddie was watching his face for any sign of recognition. He could have sworn he saw a flicker of it in Steve's eyes. That was the moment he almost, almost asked outright.

Eddie even called out to him, the words on his tongue, "Why didn't you come back? I was waiting for you.' But in the end he decided against it. What use was there? They had bigger problems to deal with right now. He would ask Steve later, when it was all over. He would tell him that he had been waiting for him all this time and that he was glad that Steve had come back to him.

They would talk later.

Only later wouldn't come, Eddie realized as he tasted his own blood in his mouth and stared into Dustin's frightened, tearful eyes.

And then Steve was there, holding his hand, begging him, pleading with him to stay, not to die. Eddie couldn't promise him that, but he had promised him something else, and he wanted Steve to know that he had never broken that promise.

"I waited for you, Stevie. Every..." Eddie coughed wetly, more blood flooding his mouth, and he suppressed the grimace to keep smiling at Steve. "Every day. I knew you'd come back. Worth... the wait," Eddie whispered, his voice fading. Eddie was fading fast.

In the distance he heard Steve's voice begging him to stay, he needed his mage by his side, and the last thing he thought was that he was sorry he had to leave before he could see Steve slay their dragon, but he hoped his magic had helped enough.

The next time Eddie was able to think and feel, it was like waking up from the worst hangover ever. Everything hurt, even his hair.

Slowly opening his eyes to a thankfully dimly lit room, he winced at the sharp pain in his head. It made moving his head even more torturous, but Eddie had to know where he was. Looking around as much as he could, he realized several things.

He was in a hospital bed with monitors beeping softly beside him.

It was night, with only a small bedside lamp providing some light.

Steve Harrington was asleep next to him, his arms crossed on Eddie's bed and his head resting on them.

Eddie must have made some sort of noise at the sight, because at that moment Steve jumped to his feet, ready to fight or flight.

Then he looked at Eddie and a myriad of expressions played across his face. Most of them passed too quickly for Eddie to decipher, but he's sure he saw surprise and joy. Wonder, definitely, but maybe fear, too, though Eddie had no idea why Steve would be afraid of him.

"Steve," Eddie croaked, his throat like sandpaper. The sound of his name was enough to jolt Steve into action and he hurried over to Eddie's bedside table. Seconds later, a straw was held to his mouth and blessedly cool water filled his mouth and ran down his throat.

"Thank you," he told Steve when the cup was empty and he felt more like a human being again. A badly mangled human being, but he took what he could get. "What happened? Is everyone..."

"Vecna is dead. Everyone made it out alive." Eddie let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "That's all you need to know for now. I'll tell you the rest tomorrow, okay? You should get some more rest. You... we almost lost you."

Steve looked shattered as he said this and Eddie finally noticed the dark bags under his eyes. Steve's hair worried him even more. It looked greasy and unkempt, worse than it had even looked in the Upside Down.

Eddie was afraid to ask, but he had to know. "How long..."

"Twenty days. They couldn't tell us when you'd wake up. If you'd wake up." His voice broke at the words, and Eddie tried to lift his hand to soothe and comfort, but it weighed a million pounds.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long, Stevie," he said instead, hoping to ease Steve's pain with his words instead. But all it did was make Steve collapse, the bed the only thing breaking his fall. He was the one who reached for Eddie's hand then and held on to it like a lifeline.

"I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm the one who kept you waiting for years. I never went back to that playground. My babysitter didn't want to take me anymore because I ran away, and she almost lost her job. And then it had been years before I was old enough to go by myself and I couldn't... the thought of going there and you not being there was too much. And why should you be? Nobody would wait that long."

The "not for me" rang out between them and Eddie gathered all his strength to pull Steve's hand to his mouth. As he planted a kiss on the soft skin of the back of his hand, Eddie said in a low voice, "I did ... I waited all this time for you. This playground became my hound, once a day I would stop by, just in case. I always hoped you would come back."

Now it was Steve's turn to take Eddie's hand in his and place it gently on his cheek, planting a soft kiss on Eddie's palm.

Caressing Steve's lips with his thumb, Eddie smiled at the sweet boy he had waited a lifetime for. His hero.

"We did it, Stevie. We slayed the dragon!"

Steve's pearly laugh echoed through the room, silenced only by Eddie's lips as he leaned down to capture them in a fairy-tale kiss.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 4 #love is being willing to wait for them #my writing

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greyfics · 22 days

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even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

pairing: the ghoul (cooper howard) x reader fic type: enemies to lovers, no smut, mild spice + eventual fluff slow burn meter: ◈◈◇◇◇ word count: 3.8K inspo: TPD lyric prompt list, reblogged on main reader type: assumed wastelander background, gender neutral, 'I don't need a knight to save me', assumed negative views of BoS, assumed gun for hire cw: strong language, violence, reference to fictional drugs, mild dismemberment summary: reader is a gun for hire who has gotten themselves into a bit of trouble in the form of a moderate bounty with a local segment of the brotherhood- and cooper howard knows he can get all the drugs he needs for what seems like an easy job.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"We can do this all day, darlin'. Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leavin' here with you." you feel the pressure of a pistol barrel pressing against the base of your skull from behind, and a disgruntled, defeated sigh slips through your lips. The game is up- you're out of ammo, down to the ripper hanging from your side, and 'gun against the brain-cage' is the indisputable checkmate.

Up to this point, you'd been pretty successful in shaking off the swathes of bounty hunters and jet-scrounging raiders that'd been on your tale since you became an enemy to the brotherhood- which, nowadays, seemed to be a pretty fucking easy feat to accomplish. The rusty knights were getting a little big for their oversized, several-tonne boots- and you had never been a fan of self-asserting authorities using their power in the name of 'order', especially not when they could hardly organise their own little sectors across the expansive, sparse remains of the USA.

As good with a revolver as you are, today it seems your luck has ran out and your karma has caught up with you, because you've finally met your match in a ghoul with a face so smug you wish you at least had a chance to slap it before losing the game of cat and mouse you'd been playing for a couple days now across Junktown. Your face collides into concrete and a quick click combines with the feel of steel against your wrists, The Ghoul's threat having evolved into a promise.

You spit a ball of blood and saliva from your mouth, wrought up by the hard impact with the ground below, "Alright, you win this round you freak- I'll come with you, just get these off of me." You hear a smirk from above, "Now how stupid do you fuckin' think I am? No, I gave you a chance to come willingly, you chose to shoot me in the leg. Lucky I ain't returned the favour." He gives you a light, sharp kick in the side with the tip of his boot, "Up. We got a long way to travel, and sooner we get there, sooner I get paid. I'll be reminding you now that I only get a bonus for bringing you alive, so make my life hell and I'll live without the extra caps." "Not exactly easy when my-" you hear the chick of a safety being cocked, and awkwardly shuffle back until you can jut sharply up onto your knees and slowly stand, turning to glare daggers into your now captor. The Ghoul's expression remains stiffly affixed with the wry, smug facade he bears: relaxed, squinting eyes peeking out above a thin, ever-upturned lip- you swear to yourself to you'll smack that smile off his face- but by all accounts, beneath the withered, decaying skin that had festered in his ghoulish transformation, the man had the stature (and admittedly, the jawline) of a filmstar.

You shake off the irritable possibility of monster like this getting lucky with the gene pool as a calloused hand secures a vice grip on one of your wrists and tugs you in suit as it's owner sets into motion, dragging you away from the remnants of an old civilisation and towards a military base miles away you are all too acquainted with.

You had been so caught up in the wild ride of adrenaline that came with being on the lamb that you briefly detached yourself from the catalyst of the chase- but as concrete and clay inevitably crumbles away to distant sandy dunes and cacti, the dread stirs in your stomach like a plague. It was easier to wave off the consequences of your actions when you weren't being marched towards the gallows to face them- it wasn't like you made an attack on the organisation. You kill one knight trashing up a town in the name of redundant technology, and suddenly you're on a hit-list. You know The Ghoul probably doesn't know this, and you know for certain that even if you tried to give the man a sob story he wouldn't care. This was it. "You about to be sick?" You snap from your pessimistic daze at the sudden interruption of silence, "No. Why?" "You look like you just ate a mouldy iguana, that's why- and I don't want sick on my boots." You let out an irked groan, and sharply snap your head to face the horizon in the opposite direction to your captor. You hope this will satiate his sour jabs for the time being-

Your hope is crushed five minutes later.

"Go on then. I'm bored shitless and I'm outta jet, so spill." He says with an almost theatrical exasperation in his voice, "Spill what, exactly?" you coldly respond in a mute tone, focus still fixed on the horizon to the west, "Well what's the big story? Someone's always gotta be the victim when they got a bounty on their head, so what's the tragic tale behind 'Y/N', huh?" the muscles in your neck and shoulders tense up at the mention of your name- you weren't exactly a known associate or long-time rival to the brotherhood, and the wanted poster you had wrestled from the stiff fingertips of a raider last week only had a sketch and a scrawled account of the incident. You falter for a moment before replying, but ardently avoid taking the bait, "If your plan is to get me to tell you how we got to where we are right now just so you can mock me, then I think I'd rather carry on enjoying the view, if you don't mind." The sweet-toned sarcasm at the end of your sentence seeps with venom, and the hostility it implies does not slip away from your adversary.

This time, his laugh is a soft, whisper of a chuckle- something spiteful, foreboding- followed by matching words, "You should hear what your little community had to say about you for a couple caps and a promise not to shoot anybody- well, anybody else-" his words cut into something personal, then- and though you would normally know that attacking someone with your hands cuffed behind your back is never going to end in your favour, at this moment you couldn't care less as you swing your leg round in a swift roundhouse motion, and raise your knee towards the only place you can think to leave a mark-

You hit your target, but instead of howls of pain you are met with a split second of awkward silence as the ghoul cocks his head, unimpressed, before slamming it into your own, sending you staggering back a few paces-

Before you can reorient your vision, a heavy dull force plummets into your ribs- the sand cushions your blow slightly better than the concrete you met face-to-face with an hour ago, at least. Your arms, however, are not grateful to be pressed beneath you as a familiar, withered hand pushes into your throat, putting as much pressure on your trapped limbs when your upper body presses back as it does on your esophagus, halting your air supply as he lowers himself down to a kneel and fixes your gaze onto his,

"If I wasn't already a walking corpse, that could've really hurt- not a very nice thing to do to someone just tryna have a little bit of light conversation now, is it?" All you can do is glower through eyes blinded by the sun, which gleams behind the shadow of the ghoul's head, bearing on it a smile tweaked with frustration- you need to breathe- you can't keep this up, your heartbeat is louder than the sun in your eyes and-

The pressure releases. You turn your head to the ground and suck in air between dry, heavy coughs, and after you've finally steadied your breath, you find a minor fleck of relief in being hoisted up from the ground this time instead of scrabbling to get up at gunpoint. You wonder, perhaps, if this is some small act driven by guilt- perhaps this man had a conscience once and a set of values beyond doing what it takes to ensure one's own survival. You were a gun for hire yourself, so it would be hypocritical to criticise your captor for his line of work- mostly, you preferred to stick with jobs guarding merchant caravans and to take out bands of raiders harassing the cities you passed through, but you never questioned the legitimacy of the requests you received, or the cargo you oversaw; you had settled for a little while, having stuck around the same little settlement for a few years now and had started to develop some semblance of a connection to the people there-

or so you thought.

You know you're going to be walking for a while- so with a resigned breath, you begin saying what little there is left to say about your present situation, "Well, you probably know most of what I can tell you from the sounds of things, but I guess there's nothing else for me to do right now, and the horizon is the same no matter where you go around here. I guess you could say we're in similar lines of work, but that's not really what got me in trouble with The Brotherhood. They think they can rock up in a power armour with a logo on it and wreak havoc as they please because it's for 'the greater good', but they leave towns half-destroyed when they pass through. I didn't want that to happen to... well, I didn't like the sound of that happening where I was. So, dude gets out of his power armour and starts waving guns around screaming about some piece of pre war tech or the other, and I tell him with... a strong choice of words, to get going. He starts running for the power armour, guns blazing- and I just have better aim, I guess. Not even like I got paid for killing him, either. Maybe that would've made this whole thing a little bit sweeter."

Your profession leaves a silence hanging in the air for a little while after, but it feels appropriate. The dunes filter sand from the far west to respond to your story- the horizon quivers, but only through the illusion of heat; the sand dries your eyes before they have reason to shed tears. A loaded sigh escapes the ghoul in front of you, and the clasp on your wrist softens but for a moment before stiffening to pull you onwards, "Yep, well, caps keep you going a little longer round these parts, but money can't solve all your problems." "You should tell that to the Brotherhood. They seem to be doing pretty well for all the wealth they've hoarded- can even pay big time bounty hunters to do their shitwork from the looks of things." You retort, but after a moment follow up with, "Wish I could say I was upset about it but hell, if I were you, I'd turn me in too."

You hear that soft chuckle again, but when you turn around to catch a look at the face that matches it, you see relaxed muscles and a far-off stare- he won't let you go, but he has let his guard down but a little bit- perhaps when we get closer to my story's end, he'll even let me walk to my death with my hands unbound.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

After trudging on in silence for a while, head bowed to your fatalistic contemplations, you find as you drag yourself out of the pit in your head and look over the horizon once more that the scene has changed: the atomic orange dewdrops spattering the sky not long ago have quickly to faded into a bruised overhanging shadow of violent, lavender, crimson; twilight approaches, and you're still surrounded by desert hills and illusions.

One of these illusory quivers catches your sharp eye, a dark blip that has appeared somewhere in that distance; it's moving, but it isn't close enough for you to determine whether it's just a trick of the heat or whether it's something heading in your direction. Your brow furrows, but you say nothing yet.

Within a minute, the object comes into better focus- or, rather, the creature. Your heart skips a beat, and you open your mouth to utter some kind of warning, managing to rasp, "Get the handcuffs off of me." "Now, darlin', I thought we managed to get past this already-" "No-" You tug your bound wrists, pulling the ghoul into your side- his other arm steadies itself against your shoulder before slipping up to your jaw and dragging it to face him, his own clenched and unaccompanied by a smile this time- the pallid complexion of your own face gives him enough pause for you to blurt in a fruitless, strained whisper, "Deathclaw."

If The Ghoul's skin could have paled more than it already had in his lifeless state, then it might have at that moment. The tight grip holding you against him slackens completely and you thud onto your ass as he draws his guns and casts you a playfully pitiful glance from above, shrugging and saying, "Sorry, darlin', guess I forgot to pick up the keys." He steps in front of you as a curse rips out of your throat in the sudden panic that ensues, and you try to muster enough brain cells in this moment to figure out a way of not dying, prematurely, and becoming just another skeletal curio.

There's the back-up plan, the 'if shit goes south' plan that you still hadn't gone through with because of the possible dismemberment that it might entail- but you had not been unarmed when you had been restrained earlier, and the phantom hum of a ripper blade always strapped to your waist as your last resort. You won't be able to wield it with any competence with your hands restrained as they are, but you can hit the power button from your current position-

Though, usually, you'd prefer to do it when the blade was already in your hand, not digging into the side of your leg.

shredded leg is better than deathclaw snack. Your astute analysis confirms your decision, and with a grunt and a whack, the blade starts chugging into a steady whirring action by the will of the dregs of an energy cell embedded inside- the next couple of seconds are far too long.

The blade begins it's excursion into your thigh as the gunslinging ghoul whips around at the sound, eyes wide at the sudden display of spraying crimson. You scream, struggle to try to align the cuffs without jerking your shoulders out of place. The deathclaw bounds into the mid-distance, closing in upon it's approach- it caught your scent before you could even see it's silhouette-

The tip disappears as your leg reflexively jerks, responding to the dancing jig of the chainsaw blade- you see pathetic sparks as the thing bounces off of the cuffs- strong enough to sever a leg, too rusted and battered to cut through metal. Your plan is failing. Your leg is bleeding. The cowboy falters as the deathclaw closes further-

You make a snap decision: fingers are easier to fix than legs.

You twist your wrist, and the pain just melts into the already existing burn emanating from your leg- a bloody, three-fingered stump slips from it's cage, and you swing your still-cuffed hand around in a fluid movement to drag the ripper from its sheath within your leg, snapping the cord that ties it to your waist-

You hear a frenzied firing of a revolver, but the approaching thunks are unimpeded- and though you know your leg may give way when the adrenaline finally dies, and though you know you need to find the two fingers you lost before sand vipers snatch them up and you're known as three-fingered y/n for the rest of your life- you launch yourself from the ground on your good leg, and stagger towards the approaching beast.

You grew up in the wastelands. You grew up in a settlement up here that, like any of the rest, was constantly plagued by critters and beasts- and if you were taught anything by the survivors that surrounded you, it was the following:

If you can't blow the bastard up, get 'em in the belly.

The deathclaw- a baby, thankfully- has it's gaze fixated on the man that had in the past half a minute become it's primary aggressor- so when you stumble forward, low and bleeding, with what to the creature is just another indistinguishable bit of metal in your hands, it does not see reason to change the track of it's jump.

As it launches itself above you, you pray to lady luck that you hit your mark.

An ear-splitting yowl and a sudden muffled crash tells you she's listening, for once.

Finally, after a few ragged breaths, the adrenaline wears off and you feel the weight of your body pressing into the wounds that liberated you- and the blueberry sky fades to black as you become weightless. This time, your fall is of your own accord- and this time, something stops you from hitting the ground.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

When you come to, you do not open your eyes at first- awake though you might be, your body is heavy with exhaustion. Before your encounter with the ghoul, you had been on the run for weeks, and in the last twenty four hours had not had time to stay put long enough to sleep. Coupled with the rough journey and the blood loss, you couldn't move if you wanted to. That being said, in those few dark minutes, a few things of note still catch your attention.

There is a faint crackling to your side, and the lulling warmth of a fire that brushes in waves against your face- and though you feel the silky grains of sand cushioning most of your resting body, your head lays higher up, neck leaning up to a more elevated surface- your attention snaps to the light sensation of fingertips absently grazing your neck in a repeating pattern, and the distant hum of an old country song embedded into muscle memory. The surrounding sensations are a strange comfort for all the brutal imagery this post apocalyptic world usually beholds; but it is brief, as your neck tenses, giving away your lucidity. The hand pauses, lifts- settles somewhere to the side.

When you dare to open your eyes, you are unsurprised to see the question-begging smirk and sharp eyes peering down from above, "Have a good nap?" You bolt upright, and immediately regret it when the bending of your leg snags one of the stitches you didn't know had been sewed into you until just now. Defeated, you flop back down, turning your head to the side to gaze into the dying embers of the fire beside you- praying you can brush off the flush of blush creeping into your face to the influence of the fire. Eventually you garner the courage to speak, "Feels like I've only been out for an hour." He snorts, shaking his head, "You went down around sunset, and it'll be sunrise in a couple hours." This catches you by surprise, and not just because of the amount of time you've lost, "What happened to getting your caps as soon as possible? Lost a lot of time waiting." He frowns, but does not lose his grin, "You trying to get yourself killed? 'Cos you've done a damn fine job of that so far. No, I've just been doing some thinking." "Congratulations. I'm proud of you." His eyes narrow into slits and he tuts at your sarcasm, following your gaze into the fire, "See, it could be argued that I would've been minced ghoul splattered n' buried six feet under the dunes if you hadn't gone all psycho slicing yourself up like that to get that baby deathclaw where it hurts." "That was a baby?-" "Anyway, guess my point is I might be willing to do a lot of things, but I still got my principles- only human thing I got left, probably. So I'd say I owe it you to not kill you at least. When you can walk, we'll go east to- well, to what's left of Shady Sands, and then you can do whatever the fuck you want."

You consider his words, and not knowing how to express appreciation or what to begin to make of this mysterious stranger and his obscure appeal, you find yourself rejecting this suggestion, though you don't know why- and so naturally, you dig yourself into a hole, "Well, you could also say that I would have died of blood loss if you didn't stitch my leg up." He studies you then for a minute, before shrugging and clasping your hands together at the wrists. You begin to stammer indecipherable protest and with a smirk he pulls you up, your hands still held rigid in your lap by his own, his head resting on your shoulder as he murmurs, "Now, I'm starting to get the impression you want me to march you up to our friends at the brotherhood just to keep my company." If he can't see the warm hue in your face now, he can certainly feel the heat flushing through your flustered face- you fight against the feeling, if only to make sure you stand a chance of winning this little exchange,

"Says the man who watched me sleep all night." You feel him shrug your comment off as his grin extends, "I might look like a monster, but I was a gentleman once upon a time. Like I say, I got principles." He lets you slip forward out of his grasp when you move to shuffle yourself around. As you do, you feel for the first time you are looking at him properly, sincerely- face to face, on equal grounds, with no threats of death or necessary facades of false confidence. After soaking in as much as you allow yourself to without losing yourself to curiosity entirely, you crossing your arms across your chest, and reply,

"Well, I have principles too- and if you're oh so graciously not turning me into the brotherhood then I still I owe you, so I guess I'll just have to stick around until you nearly get yourself killed again- that's all. No other reason." The ghoul rises, resting a hand on his pistol,

"You tell yourself that, darlin'- I'm gonna enjoy this change of scenery, I think."

#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ 01 ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ cooper howard ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ fallout ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ x reader ]#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfic #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul fanfic #x reader #greyfics #fallout tv series #I know that the way I used the lyric does not match the lyric but hey don't knock the weird literal train of inspiration #may rewrite to polish a couple details nagging at me but have put way too much time into fidgeting around with the words for now hehe #also I feel like this definitely has second part potential if I want to divvy into it in the future so #note to self for that one

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thethreeeyed-raven · 8 months

Note

Hi can I request a opla usopp x reader where the reader is actually an villain fight usopp but using this prompt https://www.tumblr.com/ihateprompts/713952974206042112/kiss-prompts “I think I want to kiss you” I believe 😭sorry if it doesn’t make sense, I just love your writing 🏃🏾‍♀️

i think i want to kiss you

navigation | warnings : none? | a/n : he wasn’t originally on my masterlist but this was too cute not to do, enjoy! | tags : @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @fangsp1der-2099 , @knight-of-flowerss

The sound of cracking bones and fists coming into contact with skin could be heard all around you.

You looked around from the corner where you were hiding, inspecting the intruders that barged into Arlong’s park.

You recognised Nami with them, these must be the Strawhat pirates she would talk about.

The way she talked about them convinced you she was fond of them, but you didn’t know them, so you couldn’t trust them.

The two men were occupied with some of the fish men, and you still sat hidden.

You noticed one of them run away, a fish man chasing after him.

So you followed them.

“Too bad little one, just when we were starting to have some fun.” You heard the fish man say.

The strawhat pirate lifted himself up, calling after the creature.

He lifted his sling shot, releasing the band.

The tiny ball broke the glass bottle the fish man was holding, setting him on fire.

You heard him shout something, inaudible to your ears, so you moved closer.

“And, no one around to see it.”

You felt the tiniest bit of sympathy for him, before remembering he was the enemy.

“I saw it.” You revealed yourself from behind a tree, startling Usopp.

“Oh, well, did you see that?! I took down a villian!” Usopp jumped around excitedly.

“You still haven’t defeated me.”

He ceased his jumping, turning around to look at you in surprise.

“What…”

You drawed out two long, sharp swords.

“Come on then, defeat me. Then we’ll see if you crew will still believe you.”

You charged at him, swinging your weapons about as he dodged every one.

“Hey! We don’t need to fight! I’m sorry for killing your friend!” Usopp pleaded with his hands held out.

“He wasn’t my friend, merely an acquaintance.” Still calm, you swung the blade across his face, making him trip and fall to the ground.

You leaned down so you were eye to eye. “Have you given up yet?”

Usopp didn’t answer, instead he just stared at you.

The silence was intense, but he broke it when he said :

“I think I want to kiss you.”

Kiss?

“What?”

“What.”

The silence came creeping back.

A smirk painted your face and you leaned more forward.

“Then do it.”

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jake-g-lockley · 1 year

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The Sun, Sky and Beyond (Moon Knight x reader): Valentine’s Day Special

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MY BABIES <3 There’s nothing in this world greater than love and so may love find you in every aspect of your lives! Here’s a little day with the moon boys xxx

Word Count: 2.4k of fluff

You squint at the light that hit your eyes as you woke up to the sound of birds twittering outside your flat. You could smell the sunlight as it warmed the sheets, creating a comforting little bubble around you. You stretched your arm out only to find the space beside you empty. You hum and turn over onto the boys’ side, twisting your neck so that you could inhale their sweet familiar scent, grinning to yourself. The corner of the bed dipped slightly and your smile deepened, as their presence wrapped you in their embrace without them even laying a finger on you.

“Pst, baby, wake up.” Steven’s British drawl met your ears and greeted your brain with a shot of dopamine.

You stretched your arm towards him and beckoned him to join you. You feel the mattress move around you as he crawls over you and gently lays on top of you, the heaviness of his full body weight cracking and popping your sleepy joints. You groaned and laughed as Steven traced your neck with his nose, peppering tiny kisses in its wake.

“Let’s stay here forever, please?” you mumble as you run your hands through his unruly hair that was feathery soft and fluffy with sleep.

“I’d love that … but we have plans, love.” Steven whispered between kisses.

“We can still carry out ‘plans’ in bed, angel” you grinned as Steven slowly lifted his head from your neck.

“Now listen to me you little devil, don’t you dare tempt me with your tricks!” He feigned shock. “I’m left with no choice, I’ll have to banish the devil with my own hands.”

You gasped as one of Steven’s hands collected yours at the wrist and pinned it above your head before digging his fingers into your side. Steven knew all of your sweet spots and his skilled fingers tickled away, making you yelp and scream like a hyena. One of his legs pinned yours down, immobilizing you and you had to admit defeat before you peed yourself.

“OKAY, I’LL LISTEN!” you squealed when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Steven let go and brought his hands up to your face, brushing your hair away from your eyes with a smile.

“That’s my good girl. When we get back, we’ll most definitely listen to your plans, okay?” Steven smirked cheekily before giving you one last kiss and pulling you up with him.

“I do have a question for you though.” He says as he pulls you to the edge of the bed and kneels down on both knees in front of you.You raise your eyebrows to prompt him to continue. He reaches out and you think he's going to tuck your hair behind your ear but he pulls out three roses leaving you bewildered.

“Will you, my love, be our valentine?” Steven says, wiggling his eyebrows.

There was a pregnant pause as you stared at Steven. In that few seconds, you had a quaint realization that you were the luckiest human on the planet. Not many people are blessed with a loving partner, but you? You were blessed, not with one, but with three. Your heart ran itself on overdrive as it tried to pump blood cells into your brain for you to answer Steven’s question.

“Of course,” you breathed. “Of course I’ll be your valentine, all three of you.”

You were blushing and you swear Steven could feel your cheeks burning from where he knelt when he gave you a big toothy grin. You hid your face in your hands and felt like a schoolgirl for a second.

“Oh no, darling, what’s wrong?” Steven says, gently prying your hands from your face.

It’s not like you forgot it was Valentine’s Day, it’s just that today was the first time anyone had asked you to be their Valentine. After a whirlwind few months of dating your best friend, happiness you felt had infatuated you to the point that the idea of Valentine’s Day had totally slipped from your mind.

“It’s my first Valentine’s Day.” you whisper with a small smile.

“Oh!” Steven exclaimed.

“You scared me a little, but I think you may have forgotten that it’s our first Valentine’s Day too, if it makes you feel any better.” He said soothingly, as he caressed your cheek with his fingers.

You nod and watch as he stood up and scooped you up into his arms, making you giggle.

“We promise to make it count.” he said firmly as he carried you to the bathroom.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You come out of the bathroom a few minutes later to find a long, billowing sleeved lilac maxi dress that had a long slit up the front lying on the bed. You gaped at it for a while before you noticed the shade and smirked. Scanning the room for any sign of your boys, you sneaked into your secret compartment in the closet and pulled out a lacy lilac lingerie set that you had been saving, saying your goodbyes to it before putting it on. You quickly run through your hair and make up while Steven hopped in the shower.

Once you applied your kohl, Marc stepped out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Your eyes widen slightly to take his physique from the reflection of the mirror as he walks towards you.

“Stop checking me out, you perv!” He tutted before giving you a downward smile as you rolled your eyes.

He slung his arms around you and before you realized, he brought his hands to the back of your neck and with a click, left a beautiful white gold chain with a stone pendant.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart. A little gift to add to your otherworldly appearance.” He smiled before kissing the top of your head and smoothing out your curls.

You stared open mouthed at the chain, your fingers grazing the flat oval stone. The stone was a peculiar color and you didn’t recognise it. On one side your initials were carved with a tiny intricate sun beside it.

“Marc, baby, this is lovely- why are you smiling like that?” You looked at Marc who had a mischievous smile on his face.

Otherworldly appearance.

“Marc, you did not!” you gasped, grabbing the pendant for a closer look.

“I, in fact, did not do anything stupid.” Marc said chuckling, “Asked the boss for some help.”

“It’s bloody beautiful.” you cradled the moon rock pendant in your hands standing up to press a kiss onto Marc’s lips.

“Glad you liked it, honey,” he said, glancing at the clock. “Alright, give me a few minutes, then Jake will show you your next surprise.

There’s more ?!

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You hold tightly onto Jake's hands as he leads you through a grass field, a soft satin blindfold obscuring your vision. The fresh smells of earth and grass hit you first, making you take a deep breath. You could feel the breeze flow through your hair. You feel yourself gently being pulled down. Instead of sitting on grass, your skin was presented with the feeling of soft wool. You could feel Jake slipping your sandals off and a rustle of something.

“You can open your eyes now. I hope you like it.” Jake’s lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to see. Your eyes were delighted by the rolling meadow before you, continuous hills of green that never seemed to have an ending. The bright sun and the singing birds made you think that you had stepped right into paradise, the seclusion of the place convincing you of that fact even more. You looked down and gapped at the enormous crochet blanket that had two large picnic baskets and pillows that surrounded you and Jake. A bouquet of orchids that matched the color of your dresses was perched on your lap and you lifted your hand to graze the flowers.

“Oh boys! This is beautiful.” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around Jake’s neck and hugging him close.

A Valentine’s Day picnic was definitely up there on your list of cute things that you’d never thought you would experience. You watch as Jake opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass for the both of you before handing you one. You clink your glass with his and take a sip, the floral aroma of the wine tickling your nose and the citrusy flavors bursting on your tongue. You found out that they had filled the picnic baskets to the brim with your favorite snacks and fruits.

The boys had a system of taking turns and after your first glass of wine had been drained, you found Steven staring at you with a dopey look on his face.

“Come on, I have something for you.” He said, patting his lap.

“What here? In the open?” your eyes widened slightly.

“Gods, not that genius, lay your head here.” Steven laughed, rolling his eyes.

He pulled out his notebook as you settled your head on his lap, staring up at him.

“I wrote something for you.” Steven started shyly.

You nodded, encouraging him to go on, excited for what was in store for you.

“I’ve heard stories of angels but never thought they were true, but in seeing you I have become a believer. I only wake up with the dream to see you, to hear the air that is filled with your honeyed voice and to feel the sand that blossoms like flowers at your feet. In your beauty, I perceive life and with you beside me, I recognise myself and sought to follow your shadows. Looking beyond your divine appearance and seeing your soul, I see the true colors of your heart. The moon and white clouds beautifully blend with each other, so who else is there to understand the desires of my heart? My heart is not like yours as it has gone through changes and my reality is confusing, but you’ve managed to create a painting that involves my troubled soul crossing with yours.”

When he finished, you thought that your heart had stopped for a second. The words sunk deep into your skin and stitched your heart from all its sorrows, drowning you in a sea of Steven’s undying love. You were quite frankly speechless from the passage he had read from you, wondering how someone could see you the way that he did.

“Steven, shit, that was beautiful.” Your eyes began to well up with tears as you sat up to capture his lips in a blazing kiss. “You really think of me like this?”

“All the time, my love.” he breathed.

You spent the next few hours just talking to your boys about everything and anything under the sun. Your short attention span and the buzz from the alcohol caused you to jump from one topic to the next like a live wire but the boys just chuckled and jumped along with you.

“It’ll be so cute to raise children in a place like this, quiet and sweet, away from the bustle of the city, just being ourselves.” you say, popping a grape into your mouth.

“Oh yeah for sure. By the way, remember the tiny police station we passed by? When the children grow up we’ll definitely find them there on a daily basis because the little delinquents will be your children.” Marc said, grinning from ear to ear.

You hurled a grape at him which bounced off his aviators.

“Fine! Our children, happy?”

“That’s right, our.” you huff, settling back into the pillows.

While you were snacking, Marc pulled his guitar out and started to sing for you. It was your favorite thing in the world, watching Marc’s fingers dance lightly as he strummed the strings, humming to the tune.

“Howlin’ green, green rocky road,

You promenade in green,

Tell me who you love,

Tell me who you love?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“I love you!” you giggle.

His sweet voice envelopes you like a warm blanket.

“When I go by Baltimore,

Ain't no carpet on my floor,

You come along, and follow me.”

“I’ll follow you wherever, my love.” You smile as he finishes with a flourish.

He continued to serenade you until it was Jake’s turn and he shooed you away to explore while he set up everything. You walked around until you spotted a bed of wild daisies, plucking them and making two crowns, one for you and one for Jake. When you got back, Jake had set up paint, brushes and two small sized canvases.

“Jake! I have a surprise for you, close your eyes please!” You say as you hide the flower crowns behind your back.

As soon as he closed his eyes, you lightly balanced the flowers atop his head of curls, holding a compact mirror in front of him before asking him to open his eyes.

He squinted at the mirror and smiled radiantly when he noticed the crown on his head.

“Where's yours?” he asked.

You presented your crown to him and he gently took it from you, placing it on your head and smoothing down your hair, kissing your forehead and nose.

“Mi reina.” Jake declared as he bowed, making his crown go slightly lopsided, extending his hand for you to take.

You blushed and took his hand, letting him help you sit down. The both of you then got onto painting. Almost immediately, Jake ditched the brushes and started painting with his fingers, scooping globs of paint and slathering it onto the canvas. You followed suit soon and found it much more fun, layering the paint with your fingers. You stop after a while, watching as Jake’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his lips cutely pursed together. You silently lean over, until you booped Jake’s nose with a tiny bit of blue paint.

Jake looked at you with wide eyes before crossing his eyes to look at his nose. He blinked twice and you jumped into action leaning over and kissing him dramatically with a big muah. He finally snaps out of his daze and wipes his fingers, pushing the art supplies aside before tackling you. He locks you in his embrace and pins you down with a smirk on his face. He then lowers his lips to yours and returns your kiss with a bigger one that sent you and him into a fit of giggles.

“I love you so much, all three of you.” you smile up at your boyfriends’ face, your heart feeling totally at ease.

“We love you too, angel. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Tagging: @campingwiththecharmings @in-between-the-cafes @mintpurplemnm @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @pakhiya @romanarose @swiggy-needs-mental-help @softieekayy @luc-k-y @lia275 @brekkers-desigirl @kybitchcrystal

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yuri-is-online · 7 months

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Congratulations 👏 on your 500 folls 🥳

Prompt 15 for Riddle, Kalim, and Silver? If I pick the 1st year, I think the prefect might quickly discover who it is and I can't choose any of them.

I think those 3 might really, REALLY want to dance with the prefect, while the prefect just trying to hide.

15. Formal balls weren't a thing in your world so you have been hiding in this strategically chosen corner to avoiding having to step on anyone's toes. Unfortunately someone really, really, REALLY, wants to dance with you and has managed to track you down AGAIN.

Hm I'll admit when I wrote this prompt I wasn't exactly thinking of this as being one with mistaken identity, but I like your thinking annon! Kalim especially would want to dance with the prefect, it's one of his favorite things to do and Yuu is one of his favorite people.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, references to voicelines for Riddle's Masquerade Card, Kalim came out a bit of a tease idk if that's ok? And some french in Rook's part that I don't know if I used right. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist here.

Riddle

"It is against the rules to loiter at an event like this!" You had not even bothered to get a good look at your accuser before slipping away into the crowd. You do your best to keep your head high and act as natural as possible, searching desperately for yet another place to hide.

"Look I am sure you are very nice, but I have a friend to get to!" You call over your shoulder, and yelp in surprise as the surprisingly nimble knight pins you to the wall.

"And just who is this friend?" You can see a danger in his smile that is familiar, but you can't quite place where the nerves in your throat come from, but you are surprised to find it's not from fear.

“Ummmmm-” You desperately, fruitlessly, look around the ballroom for any sign of someone you know. Who the hell thought giving everyone in this school a mask was a good idea? Now you are going to be forced to take a crack at picking a savior from the worst possible line up of idiots in all of Twisted Wonderland. “Riddle!” Because that’s got to be a safe bet, right? There is no way that the tiny teapot tyrant would ever be brave enough to let out such a dark laugh and push you further into the wall at the call of his name. “I- I’m supposed to meet up with Riddle, so could you, you know let me go?”

“Go? But that would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?” Riddle takes off his mask, with the intent to spare your feelings as your eyes pop halfway out of your skull in despair. “You have been so dutifully looking for me prefect, that is why you kept running, right? Someone as well behaved as you would never dream of shirking their duties at such an important event.” But despite saying that he doesn’t dream of letting you out from under him, because he knows you will run again you remind yourself. Logical Riddle has to know this is inappropriate but won’t realize it ever because it’s in the name of enforcing the rules. “Well?”

“Um sure!” You release some of your embarrassment by carefully examining the ceiling and laughing just a bit too long, missing the angry pout on Riddle’s face when your attention is no longer his and his alone. “Just what were those duties again?”

“Dancing.” He is angry now, he has to be, better stop looking at that ceiling and let out some more nervous giggles. “You did say you were going to dance with me, yes?” No you just said you were looking for him, but you cannot deny how fast your heart jumps up into your throat at the thought of dancing with Riddle.

“I suck though.” You blurt out the words before you can find a nicer way to say it, but for once Riddle does not scold you for your language. He just finally steps back from pinning you to the wall, childish anger replaced with joyful confidence as he bows just so.

“You have absolutely no need to worry about your dancing, not when I am your partner.” And oh how stupidly handsome he looks taking your hand and leading you to wherever it is he wants to go.

Kalim

"Yuu!!!!" You hear your pursuer long before you see him, the bells sewn all over his costume would have alerted you even if he didn't insist on shouting your name as soon as he saw you. Avoiding him was easy too, but you were starting to run out of nooks and not liking the look of the crannies.

And you were starting to not have fun, not that you had been having loads of it once the dancing had truly started. Sure you could have tried asking Vil or Riddle for help but you knew they would be in the trenches already and didn't want to add to that. It had also occurred, or perhaps it was politely suggested, to you that you could have asked for Kalim and Jamil’s help. Ballroom dancing might not be what you have seen them do, but it is still dancing and you cannot picture either of them really hating it. Yet for some reason, every time you had walked towards the mirror in the hall you had stopped in your tracks. Much like you were stopped now by the swirling of other people and fabric, those jingle jangling bells finally clamoring directly in your ears as their owner decides to plop his head on your shoulder with a melodic laugh.

“Finally! I was worried I was never going to catch up. You turn to see a bright sunshine of a smile, his catlike mask hiding most of his features but the gentle concern peeking out from the eyes can only really belong to one person at this school. “C’mon! You can’t be having fun just watching everyone, right?” So Kailm says but you still feel somewhat unsure even as he wraps his arms around you to give a small hug. He even rubs his cheek against yours truly committing to the cat bit.

“Then why aren’t you dancing?” You ask quietly. “You can’t have been having fun chasing after me all night.”

“Well it wasn’t all night.” Even though he asked you to dance, he doesn’t move to let you go. Almost as if he is just a bit more aware of your emotions than you think he is, as if he is afraid that you will run away from him again and that he will have to accept the rejection for real this time. “And I did dance for a bit but then I thought ‘this would be so much more fun if Yuu were here’ so I went looking for you.” He guides you slowly into a sort of sway, laughing softly when you finally relent to move your feet; rewarding your participation with loosening his embrace to fall around your waist and across your chest.

“Don’t blame me if I step on your feet.” You grumble and you think he shakes his head from the sound of the bells but you are too embarrassed to look up at his face.

“But if I do I could keep asking you to dance by pretending to offer you lessons right?” He hums along with the music and spins you around so you have no choice but to look at him now. Kalim’s head is as light as his smile as he dips you into a faster dance. “Oooh that’s much better, you’re smiling! It looks wonderful on you.” As it does on him.

Silver

Silver is comically unaware of how he comes off on a typical day, but tonight he has gotten enough strange looks that even he has started to notice. He is undecided on whether or not it bothers him.

“Prefect.” You startle and Silver immediately lunges to catch your falling cup before returning his attention to you. Or trying to anyway, he half wonders if you had tossed it as a distraction to assist in your get away. It’s clever, maybe something he could use in the future but realistically his brain would probably take him dropping the cup as a sign it was time for lights out and only allow him a mental escape. But he’s getting sidetracked, he is supposed to be looking for you. He has a mission.

“Ah a masquerade! Que c’est romantique!” Rook has been saying some variation of that since the Headmage first announced his plans, but today he has an addition. “You must be most excited Monsieur Sleepyhead.”

Silver starts, somewhat surprised at being singled out. “Malleus is extremely pleased, of course I’m excited.” Rook shakes his head.

“Non, not like that, you must be excited for them.” And though Rook does not point and SIlver does not turn his head he knows where the junior is looking. His eyes have been inadvertently wandering towards you, he tells himself it is because Class A seldom gathers together in one place. Because he needs to keep an eye on you, you are his Lord’s first friend and he wishes to honor your need to be protected. “I am right, am I not?”

“I think so.” He says with his usual even tone. “The Prefect won’t have seen anything like it in their world, so they should take this chance to-”

“Be swept off their feet by a handsome prince.” Rook sounds like he is directing a play, Silver actually looks over his shoulder to check on you before he realizes Rook is speaking metaphorically. “You will ask them to dance I trust? With how often you think of them you must have been dreaming of it for some time now.”

He has no real way of knowing if that’s true, Silver never really remembers his dreams. But something in him, perhaps it was the certainty Rook voiced his imagination, practically screams that he was right. He has been dreaming of this, dreaming of you in his arms as he dances with you around a forest as his animal friends provide the music. It feels real almost, as he once again finds you shying away from the crowd resolving to try a different approach.

“Yuu.” The stranger’s voice is soft, as is his grip on the edge of your cape. You find your breath caught up in the softness of it as he reaches up to remove his mask and reveal just who you have been running from all night. “I’m sorry I frightened you, would you allow me to make it up to you?” You barely recognize that you have nodded your agreement, too shocked at how natural the movements come to you as Silver guides you to the floor as if he has done this a hundred times before. It’s surreal and dreamlike, the look in his eyes is trying to say something. Something familiar, something you’ve heard before but not out loud, you don’t think. But then you blink and the strange aura is gone from you both, replaced by the warmth of reality and the realization you were afraid for nothing. So long as you had Silver to guide, you think you could fly.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #kalim al asim x reader #twst silver x reader #500 followers celebration

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jamiedc-they-them · 9 days

Text

A Knight in not so Shining Armour

Requested Prompt: I'm BEGGING you for some sort of sweet, fluffy Maximus (fallout) fic because istg he's so forgotten and it makes me so sad because he's such a cutie patootie and arq3hrjdiwkejdnfnfieoej!!!! Just something sweet, like maybe him finding reader in the wasteland, or reader getting caught trying to scavenge his suit?? Tysm 🙏🙏🙏

Note: This one is a bit shorter, and is more of a light-hearted one to fit the prompt. I hope you enjoy anon!

Summary: At deaths door due to poor luck, you find someone who might just help turn it around.

So, because you're you, you've managed to not only have stairs you were on collapse, you've also got your foot caught in it as raiders run after you.

You fire you gun, hitting some but not everyone, before the inevitable gun click occurs. Out of ammo.

In a last ditch effort, you throw it as hard as you can. It actually hits a Raider in the face. You let out a childish 'ha!' at him, only for him to quickly regain his balance and run at you again.

"Oh, for fuck -"

You can never finish your words, as something crashes through a wall and slams into the Raider, tossing him into the air, before grabbing him and slamming him down onto the floor.

Your hear all of this, as you're too busy flaling limbs about trying to get any splinters or dust in your wounds.

"Woo!" you hear in a low, obviously pitched voice, and more movements. You open your eyes, seeing the...well, a brotherhood of steel member dancing????

"HEY!" you cry out. He stops, and stares at you. You clear your throat, calming yourself down, "help, please?"

"Oh..." he says, "sorry."

You lift up your arms, gesturing for him to pick you up. He does so, and its surprisingly gently given the big fuck-off suit he's in. He puts you back down on the floor.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, citizen."

You roll your eyes, before doing some stretches. He just watches you.

"What?"

"Are you from the Brotherhood?"

Another eye roll, "no. Not everyone who does stretches are apart of it."

"Oh..." he seems like genuinley sort of surprised. He even looks around, "was this your house?"

You finish your streches, and start looting the corpses - you can feel the judgmental stare from him - "nope. Though, I don't really think any house is anyone's anymore. Besides," you say, finding some caps on a raider, "this," you say, holding up the single cap, "is not mine. Finders keepers and all that."

He just stares at you again, "oh, don't get all judgy," you say, waving off your 'crime', "you bashed through a wall. If we ever do rebuild the world, I'll make sure you rebuild that wall, personally."

He looks to the broken wall. He looks at the stairs that collapsed, and then back to you, "only if you fix the stairs."

You look to them, then back to him. Funny fucker. You snort.

"Alrighty, then, Mr Knight," you say, holding your hand out, "it's a deal."

He shakes it. You then nod, "I'm guessing this is just like a patrol thing?"

He stands up straighter, as if you sparked something, "oh, no. No," he says to you, "I'm on a mission. I need to get to find someone, to save the world."

You raise an eyebrow, "you're gonna save the world?"

"Yes we - hey!" he says, actually offended.

"Can you lift your foot up for a sec?" he does so, and moves it back, "that, is what used to be, my weapon."

"Oh..." he looks at it, before back to you, "sorry."

You just put your head in your hands, you cannot believe this day so far, "whatever, I'll just find a new one --"

"I can be a weapon," he continues when you don't response, "travelling alone is dangerous. I mean, you got defeated by some stairs -"

"That's not nice," you pout.

You hear what you assume is a laugh, "you handled yourself pretty well," he admits, "but, especially without a weapon, you're not gonna last long."

"Thanks," you say, arms folded with eyebrows raised again.

He gestures for you to follow him. You do, and he goes outside the house.

"I can fly us there."

"Don't know if you noticed pal, but I can't exactly fly."

"Yes you can," he assures, "I'll hold you."

You're at a standstill. Don't get yourself wrong, you're thankful for this help. But this? This is a step too far.

He seems to understand, and his helmet opens. He smiles at you, "look," he says, voice sounding natural, not as deep as before, "I can understand the hesitancy. You've just met me, I've accidentally broken your gun, and that is understandable. But, I promise you I won't hurt you."

You don't really have many options, but he is at least giving one to you. That, and he has literally opened up to you. So, he may have a point.

"Fine," you relent, and move to him as he secures you, "but I swear if I'm sick, I ain't apologising."

His helmet shuts, "understandable," he says, before taking off."

The scream you let out may alert anyone around to you, but maybe he's right. Maybe it is better to travel with someone else.

#maximus fallout #maximus imagine #maximus x reader #fallout #fallout imagine #fallout x reader #fallout x you #maximus x you

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serenescribe · 9 months

Note

ell, i hope ur request is still available??? lol but im submitting a fic idea for now-- its been laying on my art ideas for awhile but im just not sure how to draw it so im sharing it now-- (this ask is long T0T im sorry-)

so basically the story right now is Lilia's dream and I believe the point of this dream is having Lilia be on time to save Malenoa and Levan from the Silver Owls???

i read a lot of theories that Silver might overblot mostly from magical exhaustion from using UM but its also possible that he might overblot by just the mental stress of it all lol so i think the moment that he'll really snap is the moment he'll found out he's a Silver Owl.

u see, I'm kinda hesitant to support the theory that Silver is one of the Silver Owls (even tho its so likely TT)---

bcuz,,, guys,,, do you the impact of that twisted info??? it means that IF Silver is one the Silver Owls;;;; he's from the nation that destroyed the Land of Briar, the reason why Briar Valley is such a small secluded nation and hates humans a lot, the probably main reason why faes and humans are distrustful to each other, the people who murdered Malleus' parents, the reason why Malleus had to grow up in isolation, the people who killed Lilia's most important people: Malenoa and Levan (which we can assume the only people he can refer to as family), and the reason why his father is dying early and is falling out of magic because he had to exhaust all of it for Malleus to live because his ancestors killed his parents---- if Silver is from the Silver Owls actually, can he truly still have the audacity to refer to Lilia as "his father" knowing well now he's the root of all his misery?

He'll never meet Lilia if he's from Silver Owl/if Land of Briar won against them)-- unlike Sebek and Malleus who's family is tied with Malenoa and Baul

He's realizing that his existence to his father life was born from losing everything he had and he gets engulfed by the darkness

"because this is Father's true family…" Silver realizes as he looks at the expression of Lilia genuinely happy in relief that Malenoa and Levan was saved and the enemy is defeated and he'll never meet Silver anymore because his nation lost.

"We were never meant to dream together" (this is in contrast of Silver's UM's message; "let's share the same dream")

you. you are WICKED for this utter monster of a prompt. lian, i cannot believe you. i woke up, read it, and just couldn't stop grinning. i genuinely hope i did this justice. thank you for letting me write this!

The relief on his father’s face hurts Silver to the very core of his soul.

There is a celebration erupting around him, the chaotic, spontaneous festivities of a war long-won. Victory is theirs; the Valley has prevailed over her enemies, all human intruders either slain or driven out, the Silver Owls and their Knight of Dawn thoroughly suppressed.

And yet, as Silver lurks about at a corner of the room, back pressed against the dark stone wall as he observes from afar, all he can feel is a deep-rooted agony. There is a light happiness to his father’s face, so unlike the stern disposition of the general that Silver had gotten used to, having adapted to it despite how strange it feels to interact with his father in his callous prime.

Near his father is Princess Malenoa and her betrothed, the former carrying her egg in her arms. From where he stands, Silver watches as the draconic fae’s face creases as she laughs at a comment Lilia makes, the three of them enraptured in their own little world.

He bites his lips, heart aching as it thumps against his chest.

It hurts.

It hurts because Silver knows who he is, what he is now. He’s put it all together, uncovered all the missing pieces of the puzzle throughout his time fighting by his father’s side, hoping to wake him within his dream. There was an uncanny resemblance Silver shared with the Knight of Dawn, one that had struck him upon laying his eyes on the man. Even now, it makes him sick to his stomach thinking of the implications.

But appearances could be coincidental. There were many people in the world; surely some people were bound to share similarities in the end? And yet, there was another piece of evidence, one that had casted away any lingering doubts Silver had clung to, one that damned his fate.

Silver’s fingers close around the ornate ring in his palm, its necklace chain draped over the side of his wrist, swaying slightly.

He’d found the very same ring in the Knight of Dawn’s tent, when they’d ransacked it after a lengthy battle. It had been nestled in a tiny locked box that opened at his touch, and Silver’s breathing had stuttered to a gasping halt as soon as he laid eyes upon the tiny piece of jewellery — a perfect replica of the ring slung around his neck.

“Hey.”

The sound of a voice snags his ear, swaying his attention away from the cheerful face of his father — though does Silver truly reserve the right to call him that, after everything he’d learnt? Glancing to the side, Silver relaxes at the sight of Yuu shuffling over, standing next to him, their hands buried in the pocket of their jacket.

Silver dips his head at them. They smile weakly at him in return.

For a while, they stand there together, simply observing the rest of the room. Silver’s gaze flits around, from the thronging groups of fae celebrating their victory, to the sight of Sebek laughing up a storm with the younger form of his grandfather — an apparition of Lilia’s dream, but still an indulgence for the boy — until finally, they land back at his father.

“How’re you feeling?” Yuu asks, out of nowhere.

Silver exhales. “I… I am fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“Mm. I don’t really think fine constitutes standing in a corner of the room like this,” Yuu points out with a shrug. “Isn’t now probably the best time to… what was it, try and wake up Lilia?”

It is the best time to do such a thing. And yet, whenever Silver considers the thought, eyes darting back to his laughing father, he hesitates. He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of Princess Malenoa passing her egg off to her lover to lean over and wrap his father up in a warm embrace, lifting him off the ground as she whirls around in giddy joy.

The peaceful bliss on Lilia’s face is familiar to him. It’s an expression Silver’s seen many times before while growing up.

“...We can wait,” Silver eventually says, stifling a sigh. He crosses his arms. “It would not hurt to let him enjoy this a little longer.”

“If you say so,” Yuu hums in response. “Not that Grim would complain, I think. Pretty sure he’s off gorging himself on food somewhere, the little rat.”

Another pause, only permeated by the constant sound of festivities.

“...Something isn’t right, huh?” Yuu exhales. “I don’t really… know much about Hornton— um, Malleus, apart from what he told me, and… what I’ve learnt here.” They gesture at the room. “But I kinda get the feeling his parents aren’t exactly around anymore. And yet they’re alive, huh?”

Silver doesn’t even need to turn to know just what Yuu is looking at — the very much alive, not missing, Princess Malenoa and Levan chatting happily with Lilia.

“...Yeah,” Silver eventually breathes, voice weak. “They’re alive.”

Maybe— no, not maybe. It’s definitely better this way. How can Silver restore the status quo after everything he’s learnt throughout his father’s dream, of the wretched past that Lilia never told him about? His father looks so unbearably happy now, in this peaceful dream of a war won without the losses that happened in reality. Lilia had lost his closest companions, his childhood friends. He’d spent years presumably exhausting his magic, to take care of Malleus in their stead until the draconic fae finally hatched, because Malleus’ parents had been killed.

And he’d taken Silver in, despite the hue of his hair, the colour of his eyes — all little bits of evidence that should have clued Lilia in on his son’s true identity: a descendent of the Silver Owls.

A ragged exhale spills out of his mouth.

How can he look at Lilia now and call him his father? Silver is sure of it; he has to have been descended from the awful humans who ravaged the Valley and bled her dry of her resources, all before slaughtering the fair folk’s princess before her child could even be hatched. They’d been responsible for her bethrothed’s disappearance too, Silver is certain of it.

How can Silver have the audacity to think of Lilia as his own, when he is tied to the root of all his father’s misery?

And to make matters worse, in such a selfish, wretched way that it makes him feel sick—

Silver cannot stop thinking about how, in this other world, this perfect fantasy that his father supposedly longs for, he would have never found his son.

(Can Silver still call himself that?)

“SILVER!”

That familiar, thunderous voice startles him out of his swirling thoughts. Sebek frowns at him, hands resting on his hips. When had his friend arrived…? “We ought to get a move on with waking up Master Lilia,” he declares, attracting a few glances from nearby fae, chittering to each other about what Silver presumes is the sound of Sebek’s voice. “That IS what we came here for, no? And then after, we shall go and save Lord Malleus!”

“And on that note, I should go find Grim,” Yuu says, turning with a wave. “I’ll meet you guys when you’re ready to dream hop, Silver!”

Silver watches the human prefect depart, vanishing into the throng of shifting fae.

He bites his lip.

“Silver?”

Sebek’s voice is stern. And yet, there is a hint of what Silver knows is concern weaved into it. He glances back over at his friend, noticing the scrutinising arch of Sebek’s eyebrows, the way he inspects Silver closely. “What are you waiting for?” he demands. With a wave of his hand towards Lilia’s general direction, Sebek says, “Let us depart!”

“I can’t.”

Those two words spill from his lips before he can stop himself. Silver winces at the sight of Sebek’s eyes widening, pupils constraining at what he said, thoroughly taken aback. “What— Whatever do you mean, Silver?” Shaking his head, Sebek narrows his eyes. “Now is not the time for such foolish jesting—”

“I’m serious, Sebek.”

Silence. Sebek gawks at him, and Silver averts his gaze. His heart hammers in his chest, so loud he can hear it in his ears. He feels vaguely lightheaded. And it still hurts.

But it is precisely because it hurts that Silver is doing this, that he is refusing to wake his father up from his dream. What right does he have to do that, to disrupt such a wonderful fantasy, a world where everything turned out right for Lilia in the end? It would make him no better than the selfish, greedy humans who pillaged the Valley, killing fae left and right, and wrecking such havoc upon them all.

In the end, to wake Lilia up would be such an audacious, inconsiderate desire on Silver’s part. How dare he strip his father of the happiness he deserves?

Because, Silver thinks wistfully, gazing upon Lilia and Malenoa and Levan all over again, this is Father’s true family. It was never me. It is an epiphany that dawns upon him. And all of a sudden, everything feels clear.

(“Silver? SILVER!”)

Yes, this is the way it should be. Lilia should remain here in blissful paradise. Silver can move on, can take Sebek and Yuu and Grim with him — unless they wish to stay, of course, to which he wouldn’t fault them; he’s seen how attached Sebek is to his grandfather, after all. They don’t need to bother his father with the likes of their plans to save Malleus from his overblot. They can find other people instead!

(“SILVER!”)

We were never meant to dream together, Silver thinks wistfully. It’s like his focus has narrowed down to solely his father, everything else in his peripheral vision blurring together into a mess of darkness. But that’s the truth of it, isn’t it?

What sort of a selfish son would he be, to strip his father of his hard-earned happiness?

“SILVER!”

He jolts at the sharp sensation of a slap, lurching back to his senses.

The first thing he notices is Sebek’s face, contorted with such abject fear, hand raised in front of him.

The second thing he notices is—

The darkness, bubbling around him, sucking at his heels, clinging and sliding its way up his legs.

Hands wrap around his wrists, trying to drag him forward, away from the sloshing pit of inky blackness that claws at him. “Get OUT!” Sebek screeches, in part a furious demand, in part a desperate plea. But as soon as Silver stumbles his way to clean, even ground, the darkness slides right back in, nipping at his ankles, dragging him back in.

And yet, all Silver can feel is an overwhelming sensation of calm. There is a dull ache that throbs in his chest, one that sobs and wails and causes the darkness to clamber up his body even further. A single realisation makes itself clear in his mind.

He’s overblotting, isn’t he?

That’s the only explanation Silver can muster, the reason why the darkness has returned for him. It’s not reacting like it has in the past. No, this time, it’s surging straight for only him while ignoring everyone else in the room.

Perhaps he’d overexerted himself a bit too much. Perhaps he’d let his tumultuous emotions get the better of him.

What will happen if he stays? Will he lose control of himself? Silver exhales, a melancholic acceptance overtaking his soul. He knows what he has to do now.

And it is with his newfound purpose in mind that Silver pulls his hands out of Sebek’s grasp. He steps back, a sad smile on his face as the other boy stares at him. “ARE YOU INSANE?” Sebek screams, voice erupting through the air, dragging the room into silence. “SILVER, YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY THINK OF GIVING INTO THE DARKNESS!”

All Silver can do is hang his head, and take another step back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs — and he truly is. But it’s safer this way, isn’t it? He can handle an overblot. He knows how to get himself away, so he cannot hurt anyone else any more than he already has.

And as Silver readies his magic, hands clasped firmly around the ring in his palm, beginning to murmur the words under his breath, his gaze flits around the room once more. From a panic-stricken Sebek to a distressed and frozen Yuu, Grim tucked under their arm, to the whispering fae backing away from the scene, until finally…

He meets crimson eyes that widen, a glint sparking within them, face contorting into one of realisation and pure fear.

“Meet in a Dream,” Silver whispers with a sad smile, raising his ring to his lips, breath ghosting along the glistening gem — slowly clouding over, losing its lustre and shine.

And as the general breaks away from his two closest companions, boots slamming against the stone floor as he sprints for Silver, one arm outstretched, the scream of a name emerging from his lips—

Silver allows his magic to tear himself away from this dream, taking him somewhere far away, where he can let the blot swallow him whole.

At the very least, as he loses his mind—

He knows his father will be safe and happy.

#writing requests #my writing tag #tumblr drabbles tag #twst #twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst ch7 #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #twst yuu #lilia vanrouge #twst fanfiction #twst writing #again i am on holiday at da beach as this goes up... B)#enjoy the horrors while i have a good time!!!

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lovelykhaleesiii · 10 months

Note

❛ you can take my clothes off for me. ❜ feel like that would be great with King!Aegon, if u want to <3

Aegon ii SMUT Prompt #5

pairing: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x servant!fem!Reader

warnings: dub con, reference to an affair (?), swearing, mentions of handjob, reference to p in v sex.

Since Aegon’s coronation, the atmosphere in the castle had shifted, and it was a power that you slightly enjoyed. Aegon was not a cruel King nor was he a timid one. You were only fairly new, and yet the King had taken a liking in your presence, often requesting to have you serve him directly, mend to his injuries from training or battle, to the point of being his only entrusted maid that aided him in all things personal…

Whispers had spread like wild fire within the enclosed castle walls, amongst servants, fools, knights and even his council of his intentions and doings with you behind those closed doors. Aegon never uttered a peep and neither did you, denying and labelling rumours as rumours.

“I am a loyal servant to my King, that I will be.” Was often what you’d repeated on many occasions, leaving fellow colleagues in bewilderment. On Aegon’s end however, no one dared to question him besides his grandsire, Otto Hightower, and his mother, the Dowager Queen, Alicent.

Regardless, he shut them down. Not sparing any fine details, only to infuriate them even more, and if they dared to press any further, a threat did no harm than to align them back into their ranks.

Often when you were present at court, you’d earned scornful looks, eyes of disgust as they pondered over your frame. Although to Aegon, you were a rare gem, your company was one of loyalty and faith, qualities he’d lacked from experience in his own. Your nurturing nature towards him, starting out during the endless nights he’d piled into the room, stumbling drunk, oozing of pungent wine: you’d aided the young Prince then, to good health. Your face was often the last thing he’d see before falling into a hopeless slumber and the first thing he’d painfully reminisce the morning after.

Nonetheless, he had to have you.

You loved Aegon, as did he. It was genuine, and it mattered not what others thought.

“I am King… I can take what I want, tis as simple as that.”

Thus, Aegon oft took to requesting for your presence for some comely duty, especially he relishing in you bathing him yourself. The way you’d eagerly take initiative in your duty of care, adhering to his every word.

“You can taken my clothes off for me.”

Stripping him to the nude, as the warm bath had been prepared. Carefully washing off the dirt, grime and hard work of the day, gently lathering his body with soap, and rinsing it off with warm water. The intimacy of the act itself, seeing him bare naked, his hard, thick cock in midst, often submerging your hand in the water beneath, as you stroked him off to satisfaction beyond.

You would do anything for him.

In return, now the King bathed, cleaned and sated. It was his turn to take the reigns, keen to spoil you of rewards, as show of his gratitude for your undying service.

“What an awful King would I be to let me beloved work herself to the bone for me. Do not think I haven’t noticed how tiresome you’ve grown.”

Gesturing your hand, as he pat his thigh, indicating for you to seat yourself comfortable down, you did so mindlessly.

It was true, with all the feasts following the defeat of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the entire castle staff had been working tirelessly to keep up with festivities… Including you.

Aegon often begged for you to allow to relinquish you of your status and yet you convinced him otherwise.

“And let some other pretty, little maid tend to your needs? Absolutely not, my King. I would not allow for it.”

“Then what shall you have me do for you, hm? I wish not to see you lift this finger anymore tonight-”

Kissing your hand in his, as he singled out a finger as he spoke, you had always dreamt of Aegon attending to your own needs, as your own servant. Tempted to determine if he would [temporarily] release himself as King and care for you as a servant to its master.

“First off, you can take my clothes off for me… Bathe me as I do you, and fuck me some more tonight till I can scarcely walk, my King.”

A half-hearted smile sprawled across his face, as a growling chuckled echoed from his mouth. His hands rubbing at your thighs, squeezing the flesh between, his reaction said more than words could.

“Now that I can do...”

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii x fem!reader #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut prompts

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 10 months

Note

Hello !!! Can I ask for Terry with this prompt "I'm pretty sure I've discovered a new species of roach, can you come over and kill it for me?" ? With or without a smut, you decide ! Congrats again for yours 1000 followers ❤️❤️

Masterlist

I am Australian, our bugs are made of different stuff.

The Bathroom Roach

Contains: Fluff, cockroaches, smut.

1.7K words

There are approximately 4,000 species of cockroaches in the world, and only about four of them are found in North America.

All you wanted was a long, hot shower after work, but clearly, that was too much to ask for. You saw it the moment you pulled back the shower curtain, a great big cockroach with white stripes down its wings and long spindly antennas.

You didn't scream, there was no reason to, you were much bigger and smarter than the bug and would defeat it and enjoy your shower. Or so you thought because, by the time you had returned from getting bug spray, the thing had moved.

You looked around the bathroom, but the monster roach had found you first and with one wrong move, it was flying at your face.

You did the only thing you could think of and called your boyfriend, hoping he would take mercy on you and leave work early to come and kill it. The phone rang, and Terry answered happily, the sound of traffic filtering behind his voice, "What can I do for you Doll? I'm just in traffic heading home now."

"I'm pretty sure I've discovered a new species of roach, can you come over and kill it for me?" You had never seen anything like it before, not even on the subway after midnight.

He sounded amused, "Sure Doll, give me fifteen minutes and I'll be there."

"Don't laugh Terry, it's the size of a house and flew at me. I'm pretty sure it's an invasive species." You could understand why he was chuckling under his breath, you were always the one to leave the harmless spider in the corner so this was out of character.

He sighed, "It's New York gorgeous, it probably just drunk sewer water."

You sat posed with the can pointed at the door in your hand, "Well hurry, it might eat me if you take too long."

Terry's horn beeped, "I'll be there soon."

****

You heard Terry's key in the door, and then he was kicking off his shoes and running into the bedroom, "Hey y/n." He came closer, bending down to peck your cheek and taking the can from your hand, "Was it so bad that you had to stay in a towel?"

You blinked, "Being butt naked is the last thing on my mind."

He chuckled, "Alright then, I'll go kill this thing then you can have a shower and I'll order takeout. How does that sound?"

You nodded, "Yeah, ok, please hurry." Terry wielded the can like a gun, closing the door so the strong smelling spray stayed in the bathroom. It took a few minutes before you heard Terry let out a string of curses then there was the dull sound of soft thuds.

He came out moments later, his eyes wide and his face pale, "I take it back Doll, that thing was huge."

Your eyes went wide, "Is it dead?"

He nodded, "Very. I'm gonna go get your disinfect and clean up for you, I may have gone a bit overboard trying to bludgeon it with your hand soap and it's gone everywhere."

"Did the spray not…."

Terry shook his head, "Nope, it just made it mad."

You waited while Terry cleaned up, the breeze for the window he must have opened filling the air with the smell of your split soap. He was done in a flash, spinning around on his heel with a smile, "All done gorgeous, the shower is all yours."

You grinned and stepped towards him, "Thank you, my brave knight. As a thank you, I'll even let you get whatever you want, and then maybe later tonight we can.." You raised an eyebrow and let the thought dangle.

"That's fair. Go clean up, you look cold." He could see the gooseflesh on your skin, and his warm hand on your forearm made you realise how cold you were.

You smiled and pecked his cheek, "Thank you Terry, you are wonderful."

He smiled and returned the gesture, his bread scratching your skin, "Anything for you Doll."

****

Terry ordered Pizza for dinner, traditional for you and meat lovers for him. He even got Pana Cota for dessert. You were cuddling on the couch, watching some action movie while Terry stroked your hair. The film wound down and you stood up and stretched out your hand, "It's late my love, shall we take this to the bedroom."

Terry smiled, "I'd like that." He took your hand and followed you to the bedroom, his smile turning to a grin as you locked the door behind him.

You pressed your lips to his neck, and Terry's hand rested on your shoulder as your fingers gripped the hem of his shirt. He helped you pull it over his head, and your lips moved from his neck to his chest, kissing the dusting of hair before your hand slid down his body to cup his half hard cock.

Terry groaned as you made your way lower, stopping to lick his skin ever so often until you were on your knees before him. His hands held your head as you pecked down his happy trail, his pants following his boxers to the floor as his cock sprung free, "If a bug in my bathroom leads to this, I'm happy."

Terry chuckled, "You and me both." You kept eye contact as you licked a stripe from tip to base and back again and his thumb stroked your cheek lovingly. You kitten licked the tip until his breathing picked up and took him into your mouth, focusing on the head as Terry groaned.

"That's is Doll, you're so fucking good at that." His voice was tight and you took that as a sign to take him deeper while one hand went to his hip and the other went to play with his balls.

Terry's jaw clenched and he locked his knees as you rolled his balls in your hand, "Fucking hell, you're going to kill me one day."

You gave him an mmhhh and a quiet fuck slipped through his lips. You pulled back and returned to the kitten licks, Terry chuckling as you looked up at him with mischief in your eyes, "I thought you were thanking me."

You smiled up at him, "I am don't worry." You made him eat his words as you took him down as far as you could and Terry did all he could so stop himself from doubling over.

He felt the edge approach in a growing wave and tapped your cheek to warn you, moaning gratefully when you stayed where you were. It happened from one breath to another, the climax overtaking him in a rush as you held his balls closer to his body.

You pulled back and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and Terry helped you up with a sleepy grin, "You are amazing Doll."

His nose bumped yours as he kissed you, unfazed by his taste on your lips, "I love you."

He pulled you closer, lust coming over his face again, "I love you too, now can I make you feel good?"

"Yes please." He led you to the bed and ran a hand from your neck to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and taking you in with hooded eyes, "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You went to respond but he kissed your words away and slid both hands down your body to pull down your sleep shirt. He stepped towards the bed and your legs bent as the backs of your knees hit the edge, "My mouth or my fingers?"

"Your fingers please." You shuffled up the bed and laid on your side, waiting for Terry to follow you. He threw your leg over his hip and took your face his hand, pulling you in a kiss as his hand slid off your cheek and down your body. He stopped to his brush his thumb over your nipple and swallowed your grasp as he rolled it in his fingers.

His hand moved from your breast to your waist and then your hip and he paused before he reached your centre, "Can I?"

You nodded, "Yes please." He pulled your closer before his fingers slid through your wet slit and Terry grunted when you bucked your hips towards his hand.

"I love you so much y/n." His lips found yours as he slid one then two fingers inside you and his thumb found your clit. He started slow at first, seeking out your G-spot with skilful fingers as his thumb circled in a way he knew would make you see stars.

His voice was soft as he spoke against your lips, "You're so good for me, I love you so much."

"I love you too Terry." He stroked your G-spot and with two more circles of his fingers, you were clenching your him with a moan.

He worked you down slowly, his fingers gradually stopping as you caught your breath. "You good Doll?" You nodded and he pulled his hand away, taking his fingers into his mouth with a groan, "I am one lucky man."

You sighed, "Hey, I'm pretty lucky too." He hopped up and headed to the bathroom, returned with a cloth to clean you up and smiled against your skin as you wove your hands into his hair, still damp from his earlier shower to kiss him, "You ready for bed?"

He shook his head softly, threw the towel in the hamper, and slid into bed next to you, "Move in with me."

You huffed, "We've been over this before Terry, your rich WASPS neighbours are worse than the rats and roaches."

Terry pulled you close and buried his face in your neck, "And not coming home to you is even worse than that. You know you won't regret it."

You sighed, "Alright, it's not like it was going to take much convincing, aside from your neighbours, I do like you place."

Terry grinned, "That's what I wanted to hear." He reached over and switched off the light and darkness filled the room.

You pressed your lips to his, and Terry pulled you as close as you could get, "Goodnight Doll, I love you."

"Goodnight Terry, I love you too."

Fin

#terry bruno x you #terry bruno #terry bruno x reader #svu #kevin kane #terry bruno smut

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melusinezephyr · 7 months

Note

a kiss between enemies who should be fighting (( pretend like this is from panette.... lmao ))

kissies :3 (accepting)

"Panette, doll, shouldn't you be on the other side of the battle?" Zephia glances up, setting aside the sword she had been scrapping absentmindly against the ground. The smaller woman is before her and Zephia grabs a strand of her long orange hair as she stands to circle around Panette like she's some sort of vulture waiting to swoop down upon her prey.

She kisses the ends of the girl's hair gently, smirking before picking her up into her arms like the little doll that she was. She plants another kiss on Panette's lips before abruptly dropping her on the ground.

"Run along now. Wouldn't want to get... caught, would you? Don't worry, I'll give you time to get away. But remember dear little doll, we are enemies."

#ic posts #ic: that's enough out of you #supports: want me to make it better?#support: panette #inbox: then by all means try #prompts: kissies #prompts: you think can defeat me and my knight?#atefiorm #//hi mirae <3

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 2 years

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Guilty Pleasures (Jean x Reader Short Fic)

Shoutout to my playthrough of Dragon Age: Inquisition for giving me the material to write this ask. I'm gonna be twisting the prompt juuuust a bit, but the ask's spirit will remain the same!

Also despite the title, not spicy, just fluff. And secondhand embarrassment. (featuring Aether and Paimon)

Jean sat in her office enjoying a bit of free time, for once.

Her eyes were glued to the contents of the book she was reading, "Swords and Shields". It was a romantic novel with some...suggestive content, as she would put it lightly.

But this wasn't just any regular book. This was penned by her S/O.

They were an author and they were fairly well-known throughout Mondstadt. But they had no idea that Jean read their works.

Least of all Aether and Paimon, who came through the door.

(Paimon) "Master Jean!"

(Aether) "Hey, been a bit!"

(Jean) "..."

The two looked at each other before approaching her.

(Aether) "Jean?"

(Jean) "AH!"

Jean almost dropped her book as she tried to hide it behind her.

(Paimon) "Woah! Jeez, is that book top secret?"

(Jean) "Ah, Honorary Knight, Paimon."

She took a sigh of relief as she tried to put the book into a cabinet underneath her desk.

(Jean) "My apologies, I didn't hear you come in."

(Aether) "Sorry for startling you. What were you reading?"

(Jean) "Ah, don't worry it wasn't anything important. Rather it was just a story written by S/O."

(Paimon) "Aw, that's sweet! Are their stories any good?"

(Jean) "Quite! Their books sell well enough in Mondstadt."

(Aether) "Hm, sounds like something we should add to the teapot to read. What's the one you were reading called?"

(Jean) "..."

Jean became quiet as her cheeks suddenly burned a crimson red.

(Paimon) "Master Jean, are you blushing?"

(Jean) "...While many enjoy S/O's works, this one is the exception."

She meekly revealed the cover of the book, Aether and Paimon looking curiously at it.

It was some drawing of a man and woman in armor, though the armor was very skimpy, and looked...-

(Aether) "Is this smut?"

Jean sighed, nodding in defeat.

(Jean) "It's not good at all, yet I can't help but love it. This was the latest chapter and it ends on a cliffhanger."

(Paimon) "Oh, maybe you can order S/O to finish it and-"

(Jean) "NO!"

Jean shouted at Paimon, making the both of them recoil in surprise.

Realizing her outburst, her face became even more red as she cleared her throat.

(Jean) "S/O does not know about this, nor should they ever! Now, is there anything you need?"

Knowing they were playing with fire, Aether excused himself and Paimon as they left the door.

(Paimon) "Wow, Paimon has never seen Jean so flustered before!"

(Aether) "..."

Aether got an idea.

An awful idea.

(Paimon) "You're thinking of telling S/O, aren't you?"

(Aether) "You in?"

(Paimon) "You didn't even need to ask."

With the smug grins on their faces, the two set off to find Jean's S/O.

A few minutes later, they found S/O at the marketplace buying groceries.

(S/O) "Aether, Paimon! What can I do ya for?"

(Paimon) "We need your help for a dire situation! It involves Master Jean!"

Before the color could leave S/O's face, Aether chipped in.

(Aether) "It's nothing serious, but I imagine it'd make your day. You need to write the last chapter for Swords and Shields so Jean can read it."

(S/O) "...What does that have to do with Jean?"

(Paimon) "You know she reads it, right?"

...

(S/O) "She what?"

(Paimon) "Yeah, we came in through the door, she tried to hide it super fast! Seems like she was really embarrassed by it."

(S/O) "If anyone was planning to look their mother in the eye anytime soon, they would be. That book was absolute crap! It barely sold anything, barely enough to make the Mora on the ink back!"

(Aether) "Yet, Jean said she loved it."

(S/O) "...Barbatos, of all the things she could've read-"

(Paimon) "Don't worry, she likes your other works, but she LOOOOVES this one!"

(S/O) "So you want me to write the Acting Grand Master of Mondstadt the smuttiest, worst written abomination I've ever put to paper? This is literally the stupidest plan I've ever heard."

(Aether) "I'll give you 100,000 Mora to give it to her in person while we get to watch."

S/O smirked.

(S/O) "Oh please, I'll do it for free. Come back tomorrow evening."

...

Jean signed away the bit of paperwork that remained on her desk. The sun was beginning to set, and good timing.

She was just about to finish and-

Knock knock knock!

(S/O) "Jean? It's S/O."

(Jean) "Ah, I must have been overworking myself again. Come in!"

S/O had always come in to make sure she wasn't exerting herself too much, as per usual. It was either them or Barbara that showed up to do so.

S/O would recommend to take a break and maybe read a book.

Jean remembered when S/O mentioned a romance novel, and they must have been able to see the glint in her eyes, because that opened a whole floodgate of novels they've personally written.

She couldn't help but giggle at the memory. It was thanks to their recommendations, she got to know the author behind some of her favorite works.

That being said, she managed to find Swords and Shields because of Lisa, and S/O was adamant on never discussing it.

Shaking her head and coming back to reality, she smiled at S/O who came through the door.

(Jean) "Hello, dear. I promise I'm almost-"

It was then she noticed Aether and Paimon walk in behind them.

(Jean) "Is something the matter?"

(S/O) "Nope, nothing. They just wanted to see me give you a gift."

Jean raised an eyebrow. Why would they ever be interested in such a personal af-

...THEY WOULDN'T DARE-

(S/O) "I present to you, the latest chapter of Swords and Shields, my Dandelion Knight!"

Aether and Paimon were struggling to contain their laughter.

Even S/O was trying their best not to laugh along.

(Jean) "...I do not find this amusing."

(S/O) "Oh, I was told you were a big fan. Maybe I should get this through editing anywa-"

(Jean) "A-AH! S/O! I n-never said I didn't want it! If...you wouldn't mind?"

(S/O) "Of course. Here."

Jean took the book and calmly placed it on her desk while S/O squeezed her arm playfully.

(S/O) "Though, I am a bit surprised you found this the best of all my works, dear."

(Jean) "I-I...um..."

(S/O) "To each their own taste, I can't judge my audience. Besides, you're the only one who gets to see this. See you at home for dinner?"

(Jean) "Of course."

Jean gave a quick kiss to her S/O.

(Jean) "And...thank you for writing this."

S/O didn't want to mention it was absolute torture going back to that work. But if it made the love of their life happy, maybe the reward was worth it.

(S/O) "Anytime."

Aether and Paimon kept snickering as S/O quickly got out of the room.

The two turned to leave before a strong gust of wind slammed the door shut.

(Paimon) "W-What the?!"

Aether's battle instincts were kicking in as he turned around to see Jean's Vision glowing.

And with a death glare to boot.

(Jean) "You may not be a Knight of Favonius, but you are still an Honorary Knight. And you disobeyed a direct order from me, to not tell S/O about this."

(Paimon) "W-Well, you see we just wanted to...Uh-"

Aether calmly stepped forward, reassuring Paimon with a nod.

(Aether) "Allow me to explain, Acting Grand Master...IT'S PAIMON'S FAULT!"

(Paimon) "Yes, precisely Paimon's poi-

WHAT?!"

...

Klee playfully hummed to herself inside Solitary Confinement before the door swung wide open.

Master Jean walked in calmly and smiled.

(Jean) "Good evening, Klee."

(Klee) "Oh, hi Master Jean!"

(Jean) "For your good behavior this week, I've decided to give you tomorrow off. May I ask for you to collect your things and play at my house? S/O will be there to look after you."

(Klee) "Really?! YAY! Okay, I'll grab my stuff!"

Klee happily grabbed her belongings and went out the door.

(Klee) "It's Mister Honorary Knight!"

(Jean) "Ah, they won't be able to play. They're going to Solitary Confinement."

Klee's eyes almost bulged out her head.

(Klee) "What?! Mister Honorary Knight got in trouble?"

(Jean) "Go ahead home, Klee."

(Klee) "Um...Alright, when you're out, we can play together! Bye!"

Aether and Paimon watched Klee enviously as they watched Klee exit headquarters.

Jean crossed her arms as her frown deepened, expecting them to know what comes next.

(Aether) "Um...is it too late to say we're so-"

(Jean)

"INSIDE. NOW."

(Aether & Paimon) "Y-YES MA'AM!"

...

That night, Jean read the final chapter to Swords and Shields with the most intense focus S/O had ever seen. They couldn't help but cringe, knowing their most hated work is Jean's most beloved.

But as a writer, they couldn't control what their audiences liked and disliked.

Even if it was a really bizarre choice...

===

BONUS:

Lisa wondered why S/O refused to talk about this work to Jean.

It was romance, Jean would surely enjoy that much.

4 Chapters in, she now understood why.

(Lisa) "Aaaaaand, into the Forbidden Section this goes."

#genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #jean gunnhildr #jean gunnhildr x reader #jean gunnhildr x y/n #jean gunnhildr x you #aether #paimon #lisa minci

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beevean · 10 months

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Especially the justifications ranging from "Sonic is neurodivergent-coded" to "Sonic is canonically neurodivergent" in Prime grind my gears. I'm certain many of the same people are gushing about how awesome it is that Sonic Prime is CaNoN tO tHe GaMeS... as in, the games where Sonic:

knew that simply defeating and sealing away Chaos again would do NOTHING except make its hurt and anger only worse.

gave Blaze a kind and supportive pep talk, acknowledging what she had been through because of her pyrokinesis and duties as Sol Emerald Guardian and offering her his friendship with a reminder she can count on the people she's got to know during her adventure.

defeated Merlina but expressed sympathy with her hurt about her world ending while sharing his own philosophy of needing to live life to the fullest, without any call-outs about her attacking him earlier, boasts about defeating her, or scoldings about her negative view on it all.

Immediately came rushing back from Cannon's Core in the ARK even though he was seconds away from foiling the entirety of Eggman's plan with the fake Emerald because Eggman and Tails informed him Amy was in danger.

And those are only the examples I know for certain on the top of my head, without even touching upon everything that happens in games like Sonic Battle and Sonic Forces. It's not even that Prime!Sonic is particularly nasty or rude, he clearly adores his friends, but he can't read a room to save his life and he is legitimately just stupid. Which is clearly done because it can be used to write jokes, but he is stupid, in a way that a properly-written game!Sonic could not be even if he tried. And you mean to tell me the Sonic from the above examples is the occasionally-insensitive constantly-dumb hyperactive chatterbox that Prime presents him as? Please.

(I'm sorry, I figure you might have gotten tired of Prime discourse now, but in general the whole He's Totes Neurodivergent fandom perception annoy me, because they use that card to completely disregard any (in my opinion valid) counterarguments about any poor portrayal...)

Oh wait I forgot to add: the reason I came up with those examples is apparently because people think that Sonic (aka Prime!Sonic) has low empathy. Stolen from some probably-shady and possibly-unreliable site on the internet whose definition of empathy does otherwise seem to check out: "In general, empathy is the ability to understand or sense another person’s perspective, feelings, needs, or intentions, even when you don’t share the same circumstances. It can sometimes involve acting on that understanding, including offering help." And I ask, in what world does Sonic from the games lack empathy?????? He's literally the most empathic pep-talk-giving perspective-seeing help-providing understanding sweetheart on the entire planet with that definition!

I remember reading a post that proposed that Tails had high empathy and Sonic had low empathy, before Prime was a thing. And I had your identical "bruh???????" reaction. Sonic has low empathy? Literally where. Show me proof that any version of Sonic struggles to empathize with people. My man is actually pretty good at understanding others, as you accurately pointed out.

Anyway, I don't have ADHD and even I am getting annoyed at how it's been reduced to "hehe i'm soooooo silly and quirky and kiddy 🤪". If it's not Sonic, then it's characters like Tangle who has pretty much become a womanchild and fans defend her because she's "neurodivergent-coded".

Also, speaking of differences between Prime and Canon Sonic, while the latter was also relatively slow to the uptake to accept that he was not meeting his actual friends in Secret Rings and Black Knight, it was still not as ridiculous as the former, who apparently could not recognize that he was in the third different AU in a row and still was all "oh Tails am I glad to see you!".

And apparently Apple Metal was built to be like Sonic but way more obnoxious about it, which prompts Sonic to say "if I'm half as annoying as you I need to change". Which. *sigh*

and i'm pretty sure there was a boom character like that, but boom apparently sucks ass now while prime is the best western show ever. okay

#sonic the hedgehog #anti prime #you make great points anon and i wish i could elaborate more #but yeah ngl i'm getting too irked at this #not your fault but i feel that i can't talk further without actually watching the show for myself #which i do *not* want to do not even with a friend #so yeah my opinions are not worth much and i'm getting heated up over nothing #i'm this close to muting every sonic tag to take a break

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 year

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I think I might have a 'Lena in Camelot' prompt somewhere in my inbox so I'll probably get around to actually doing something with this idea, but imagine Lena gets dropped in the Camelot world at a time when Morgana is missing. Lena is "found" and assumed to be Morgana, and is thereby brought back home to Morgause (in this reality Morgana and Morgause are ruling Camelot while Arthur & Co are in hiding).

At first Lena is like-- wow Morgana has a sister, I've always wanted a sister, but soon realizes that Morgause is basically a female version of Lex ("jesus I can't get a breakin any reality, can I?") and discovers all the bad things the sisters have planned.

Like executing a bunch of Arthur's knights. Lena halts the execution in the nick of time, adlibbing something about actually serving penance for their crimes against the crown, "death is to kind a punishment" type of thing. It's the first clue for Morgause that something is hinky.

After that, Morgause keeps a close eye on Lena, and finds her trying to subvert many of Morgause's more sinister plans. Lena also rules with her characteristic kindness, slowly winning the people over-- even the knights, since Lena has ordered them to be treated well as prisoners, and has even managed to sneak in a couple of secret conversations with them, telling them 'hey I'm working on something but I promise I'll get you out of here, just give me some time.' And then actually following through on it.

Morgause continues to train "Morgana", and thereby gives Lena the knowledge and practice she needs to master her magic. Unwittingly, she gives Lena the ability to defend herself and strike back when Morgause has finally had enough and confronts her, attacking her in the main hall.

Meanwhile, Arthur & Co have found the real Morgana, and start mending fences. Things are still tense when they arrive at the castle mid-Morgause confrontation, but when Morgana sees how easily Morgause attacks her doppelganger (maybe even still assuming Lena is still Morgana but that Morgana is losing loyalty), Morgana realizes that she was never more than a pawn to her sister. In an instant, her allegience switches back to Arthur and Gwen.

She joins the magical fight against Morgause, and Arthur battles Morgause's henchmen alongside his reclaimed knights, who all hold a flame of loyalty for the doppelganger who helped them escape the dungeons and flee Camelot.

After Morgause is defeated, Arthur reclaims his throne and his sister. They plan to rule together and build a brighter future for Camelot. But first they have to figure out who Lena is and what she's doing here-- which she gladly tells them, using terms and ideas they'd understand. With Morgana's help, Lena manages to open rift between worlds for her to get home.

Before she leaves, Lena takes a moment to speak with her counterpart-- "you may have lost a sister, but you still have a family. Be certain you don't lose them again-- it's not worth it to be alone, trust me."

Morgana nods, taking her words to heart. When Lena steps through the portal to go home, Morgana rejoins her family.

Together, they make their first steps towards a better world.

#lena in camelot au #thoughts #spitballing #maybe an outline?#no likely to write the whole thing #but maybe a couple scenes from it #anyway #theres potential

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thesolemnhour · 1 year

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things don’t make bad scenes (people do)

For the “Why does your knight commander love their LI?” prompt that has been circulating, which I took too seriously. Title from the We Shall All Be Healed album website.

Length: 2700 words (😬)

It has been a month since she closed the Worldwound, and Agria Lebeda sleeps better than she has in years. Perhaps it’s the relief of finally accomplishing what she had set out to do, but more likely, she owes the improvement to the tiefling sleeping blissfully beside her. It is an incredible thing, being in love. And it’s true that she still can’t compete with Woljif when it comes to sleeping in, but that just means she gets to spend a few minutes tracing his features, relaxed in sleep.

There’s very little to warrant such an early start now, but change is hard; she had been going non-stop since Iz, and the transition into peacetime is taking longer than she hoped. With a small measure of defeat, she reluctantly pulls herself loose from the warmth of her bed and consigns herself to starting the day.

Luckily, Woljif can sleep through almost anything. She presses a kiss lightly to his brow before pulling a robe over her nightclothes. She thinks about picking up her staff from where it sits propped up near the door but—no, she thinks she can go without it. Her leg has been better lately, and she resolves that she can manage.

Wandering downstairs, she notes absently that someone—a courier, perhaps?—is standing near the doorway, but she ignores them in favor of starting a pot of coffee, the only addiction of hers that she will still allow quarter.

The courier clears his throat, and Agria concedes that it is possible that he may indeed have something important to say.

“Be with you in just a moment!” She calls over her shoulder, cringing slightly at the scratchiness of her voice. Armed with caffeine, she takes a few steps back into the entryway before she stops dead in her tracks.

Before her, looking no different than the last time she saw him some five years ago, stands Viktor Lebeda. Her father, although it feels odd to think of him like that now.

She freezes. Blinks in astonishment. She takes a breath, readying herself to say—something, but she stops, still holding her breath. Finally, her expression sides away into boredom: “I didn’t invite you here.”

“No,” says Viktor pointedly, “you didn’t.”

As ever, what her father doesn’t say is more important than what he does. Most children, she imagines, would have invited their last living parent to visit the place of their great triumph, but they are not most families.

“Well,” she begins, turning her back to him again as she stirs sugar into her coffee, “I’m very busy, and you’ll have take whatever it is that you’re here for up with Irabeth.”

“I’m afraid that I have questions that Commander Tirabade won’t have answers to.”

“Then perhaps you should have written ahead.”

“I did.” Had he? Maybe it would’ve been wise to have read those letters marked with the swan-shaped seal of House Lebeda before tossing them into the fireplace after all. Then again… “Agria. I am here for you.”

“Here for me?” Agria scoffs. “Now? You didn’t come after we first took Drezen. You didn’t come after we returned from Alushinyrra. You certainly didn’t come after—“ After I broke my leg all those years ago. But Agria will be damned if she says those words aloud. She won’t ask that question, no matter how obliquely. “But you’re needed to see me now? Honesty would carry you farther.”

His face remains placid, giving no emotion away. It’s her least favorite expression of his. “I did not think that you would have me.”

“I’m not having you now.”

“Commander,” he tries again. The appeal to authority is interesting at least. “I would like very much to speak with you. It is important, and time is short.”

“Hm. A terrible shame. I am afraid, however, that I have an engagement with the chieftain of Neathholm this morning. He is a very punctual person and would take my absence personally. Perhaps I shall see you in the afternoon then.”

…

After ascending the stairs at a near-jog, Agria closes her bedroom door behind her as gently as she can, conscious not to wake her lover. She rests her head against the sturdy wood for a moment, steadying herself.

“Coming back to bed?” Woljif asks hopefully, his words slurring slightly as he rubs his eyes.

“I am afraid not,” she says, brows drawn together as she begins to fix her hair.

“What’s going on?”

She feels the old pull to lie, to talk about anything else. But it’s Woljif. “I have… an uninvited guest.”

In the mirror, she spies him leaning up on his elbows to get a better look at her face, which remains expressionless.

“Who’s the guy?”

Taking a deep breath, Agria answers, “My father.”

Now, Woljif sits up, wide awake. “Really? He just showed up? Do nobles even do that?”

“Not often,” she says faintly.

Woljif pauses for a moment, frowning. “You know where this wouldn’t happen?”

Agria smiles: he is determined to travel now that the Worldwound is behind them. And not somewhere for work, he insisted. Somewhere actually nice. With warm weather! She suspects he is naming increasingly exotic locales just to drive up the bargain.

“Absalom? Or maybe Oppara?”

“Solku!”

Agria giggles, turning to look at him directly while she finishes the buttons on her vest. “In Garund? You don’t want to go all the way to Garund! You can’t operate an orphanage from the next continent over.”

“No,” he concedes, “but it made you laugh.”

Oh, she loves him.

“I’ll make you a deal,” says Agria, pressing her forehead to his. “Wait long enough to meet my aunt, and I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. So long as we keep it to the inner sea region.”

He steals a kiss, soft and quick. “You drive a hard bargain, chief, but I’m ready to quit while I’m ahead.”

…

When the afternoon rolls around, Agria realizes that she felt less anxious before storming the Threshold. But like any battle, it’s about managing one’s advantages. She chooses to pitch the encounter in Drezen’s gardens—Arueshalae’s brilliant idea to celebrate the victory and a place where Agria feels most invincible.

She leaves her staff, though her leg complains.

She wasn’t sure he would wait: he was considered an important man in Brevoy now, indispensable to Lebedas and Surtovas alike. It feels odd, being here with him like this. Like she has slipped into the skin of an Agria of years past.

“Well, then. If you’re not going to tell me what you’re really here for, I suppose I shall have to guess.” Agria declares, as the two of them walk. “Whatever it is, no one is talking about it yet. Someone would have told me, so you must be hoping I can head whatever it is off before it goes public.”

“Is that so?” Asks Viktor, again impassive. Quietly, it makes her furious.

“So I should think. It can’t be within the family; you would never have come to me if it were. You must be hoping that I—in my renewed popularity—can dig House Lebeda out from whatever hole it has found itself in. So! That only leaves a few options: I can’t imagine you would come all the way here to appease the Medvyeds of all people. Nor the Garesses. That only leaves Houses Orlovsky… or Surtova.”

What a catastrophe that would be if they had truly lost the confidence of the Surtovas. It would be the death of Viktor’s life’s work. All those years the two of them spent in New Stetven—her studying and him maneuvering—it would all have been for nothing.

At last, he stops walking. He shakes his head as though it could expel the thoughts there. Looking down at her, he looks older than she has ever seen him. It’s almost startling. “It’s about your cousin’s engagement.”

It can only be Elanna, who has been circling an engagement with King Noleski Surtova for Pharasma knows how long. But Agria has no obligation to be a good sport about this. Folding her hands behind her back and tilting her head innocently, she asks, “Which cousin? I have twelve.”

How Viktor Lebeda scowls. It’s an expression she recognizes in the mirror. Agria tastes satisfaction. Pushing her advantage, she decides to set a trap. “I have a boyfriend. You may have heard.”

Let him brush her off with a dismissive comment about her tiefling lover. Let him tell her how little he cares about her personal life when the family reputation is in danger. Let him give her a reason to finally be rid of him for good.

Instead, the corners of Viktor’s lips quirk upwards. “I have. He’s the boy from Kenabres, isn’t he?”

“He’s been with me from the beginning.”

“I suppose he has,” he says. His phantom smile drifts into something stronger as he looks over at her. “I have to admit: it’s—odd, to think of you and… boys.”

“I’m not sure how. I haven’t been a child in a long time.” And who is to thank for that?

“No, of course, you’re right. But you’ve always been so... focused. It’s funny to think that you made room for anything else.”

It strikes a sour chord with her. Whose fault was it, after all, that there had been so space to spare? “I owe that to you.”

“I suppose you do,” he says thoughtfully. “Do you remember the first thing I ever taught you?”

She does.

“You taught me how to control flame,” she recalls. “It was after I set one of the tapestries on fire—the one with the little blue bird in the corner. He always looked so—cheerful, I suppose. So pleased that you looked long enough to find him. That one was my favorite.”

Mother had made the tapestry, of course, and all the others in the little house outside of Restov--but it feels wrong to mention her now. Here. Things had been different then: they hadn’t had the kind of capital needed to keep a real staff, certainly not like the one their cousins had in Silverhall. It had just been the three of them.

Viktor senses the mood that has fallen across the two of them like a shroud, and he too knows better than to say her mother’s name. “It was my favorite, too.”

He had been a busy man then as he was now, ever setting off for the family seat or the capitol. Getting his attention had been no small feat, but Mother’s needlework had been like her second child. All agreed that works of such beauty were worthy of protection.

Her father had sat across from her on the floor of the living room holding her hands between her. His face had been soft, then, his eyes crinkling with his smile. You have to picture the flame in your mind, imagine it doing as you ask it to, he explained. Ask it nicely enough, and the magic will do as you say. He was right—she never set anything on fire without meaning it again. They had been young, then, and the future had looked bright.

What happened to us?

“What is he like?”

She can’t smother the smile. “Funny. Smart. Stars, he’s smart. You should see him balance a checkbook—that’s a magic of its own.”

Instinct tells her to stop talking, to give him no more than she must, but what does she have to be afraid of anymore?

“I thought it had to be hard. Miserable, even. I thought if I didn’t have to suffer for it… then it wasn’t love, not really. There’s nothing to be gained in life without pain, as they say. I was so afraid that it would all evaporate as soon as things started to go wrong.”

It had been the only way the story ever ended. Her father certainly hadn’t been the only one to stop speaking to her after her great unraveling. She had always been excellent at driving people away.

“But…?”

“But it didn’t. He doesn’t ask for things it would hurt me to give. It feels… safe. Like it’s just us, and there’s no reason to be afraid. When we got back from the Abyss… We learned that someone would have to die if we wanted to close the Wound. We thought that it would have to be me.

“He had nothing when we met, just his smarts and the clothes on his back. The crusade was his way out, maybe his one chance. And he offered to leave it! For me. He wanted to set out for the River Kingdoms, and just… be the two of us. No money, no titles. I didn’t… I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Because I’m me.” She laughs. “I always want just a little more. I wanted them both, him and Sarkoris.” And her gardens in Drezen and his orphanage in Kenabres. She wants them all.

When she glances at her father, his eyes are sad. She is sad for him.

“I missed you,” he says. She thinks he means it.

She only nods in the face of his sincerity; Agria, Lushbringer and hero of the Fifth Crusade, is much easier to miss than the Agria of New Stetven. It changes so very little, and Agria knows how this works. “About Elanna… I promise nothing. You haven’t yet made any specific requests. But if I do—then I would expect the same for the Sarkorians in Lebeda territory, should they decide to return here.”

Once more, the corners of his mouth turn up into a faint smile, saying all he refuses to say out loud.

…

Woljif stand waiting for her where she hoped she could find him at the foot of the citadel. What’s more, he’s idly spinning her beloved Staff of Flowers as he waits. Tapping it lightly on the ground, a delicate little purple-blue wildflower sprouts from the staff’s tip. Cornflower, she thinks with her first true smile of the day.

“Forget something?” He asks when he catches sight of her, plucking the flower and hold her staff out to her.

“No,” she says ruefully, taking it back. She already feels better with its weight in her hand. Or maybe that’s just Woljif’s presence. “I was doing something foolish.”

“You? Never!”

“Yeah, yeah. I thought it would make a point.” She reaches forward to pull him closer, playing absentmindedly with the buttons of his shirt.

“Did it?” He asks, tucking the cornflower behind her ear.

“Eh,” says Agria. She’s not sure, but it did feel good in the moment. Continuing to fuss with the front of shirt, she finds a silver chain holding an empty delicate setting. “Have you thought about what you might put in here?”

“Dunno yet. Maybe something red,” he says as he twirls an auburn curl around his index finger. She can’t hold back her laugh. Looking over her shoulder at the back of the man who was her father, he asks, “Was that—?”

“Yes,” she answers abruptly, “but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

Woljif’s brows draw together in concern, but he hums in acceptance. “You know he kinda looks like you?”

“No, he does not!” It can be hard to tell with aasimars, but Agria far more closely resembles her mother. She has her eye shape and upturned nose. No one has ever accused her of looking like her father’s daughter.

“He does! Not in the face really—well, he does when you look like that—but he walks like you do, like you’ve got somewhere important to be. I’d’ve never tried for one of your wallets.”

“You would have missed out, then. He doesn’t really look where he’s walking either.”

“Maybe not, but can you imagine the chewing out I would’ve been in for if one of you had caught me? Believe me, it’s better this way.”

“I would like you to know that I am more upset with you right now than I was after Drezen.” Agria says, removing her hands from him to cross her arms archly.

“Nah,” says Woljif, poking her lightly in a spot where he knows she’s ticklish. “You love me.”

She really does.

#wotr #commander x woljif #woljif jefto #agria lebeda #ag tag #viktor lebeda: stage dad for magic #pwotr pals #taylor writes

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mortuarywriting · 3 months

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📚 🧚‍♀️ Just one or both if you'd like 👉👈

I can do both!! These were super neat to think on!! the second one is absolutely why this gets a read more. I went off the shits. So sorry about that.

📚 how do you come up with the fics you write

Hmmm sometimes it's seeing the right prompt, sometimes its seeing ideas being tossed around and thinking on it, sometimes its taking the canon and seeing how a seemingly small but significant shift would impact it and how that would domino effect! I love playing with worldbuilding sandboxes so much that sometimes the fics themselves fall to the wayside ">>

🧚‍♀️ favorite characters of all time

OUGH this is such a hard one!! How do you choose a favorite child!! I'll scoop from the top and be read for filth for it I think but. Worth it i think. Anyway you get them alphabetically

Auron - Final Fantasy X

This is it. This is your story. It all begins here.

I. boy I am really not immune to Dark Knights in the FF franchise the more I think about it but! Auron has always been such a good character and I associate him so much with a song I LOVE... Auron is just one of my favorite companions, I love the insight he brings and how he was a Guardian for Yuna's Father as well as her. He's also one of Two Nickels I realize I'd have for Dark Knights in Final Fantasy Game who [REDACTED].

Death - Darksiders 2

All who live know my name, all who oppose me shall know Death.

Caaan't find a decent pic of him and I don't really wanna go and redownload the whole game for screenshot purposes yet. Aywho-

Darksiders 2 is all about Death, the oldest of the Nephilim/Horsemen of the Apocalypse proving the innocence of his brother War (seen lower in the list) for the crime of allegedly starting the Apocalypse early. Between this game and the Abomination Vault book preceding any of the games I really appreciate these two, Death being a ridiculously smart but also an apathetic asshole who only cares for a small handful, plays things close to his chest... He's a neat character and I appreciate just how far ahead he seems to plan and the lengths he'll go to make sure it all goes as he wants it to. Metal as hell.

Because War has his I also have to show Death's horse so this is Despair

And this is his Reaper Form

Fray Myste - Final Fantasy XIV

Bastard of the Brume, Fray was taken in by Ser Ompagne and became trained in becoming a Dark Knight with Sidurgu. By the time we meet them Ompagne is long dead, and Fray has just been defeated in a duel.

We find Fray, pick up the Dark Knight Soul crystal from where it had fallen beside him, and he becomes your mentor upon your waking up. You touched something that would hurt yourself and others along the way and BOY HOWDY does he have excellent threats of violence. Will follow you around on your job quests and heal you while you're being a dumb tank. He writes your quest journal entries and is such a sassy bloodthirsty shit

Fray is the other of the Two Nickels I realize I'd have for Dark Knights in Final Fantasy Game who [REDACTED].

Jarlaxle Baenre - Forgotten Realms

I am Jarlaxle. I have been everywhere.

Lets start with Jarlaxle was born the third son of the Highest House in Menzoberranzan- a city where the houses are constantly trying to kill the house ahead of them for status and do so to not get caught, their goddess Lolth favoring those who get away with no evidence to damn themselves. To that end there's a firm rule enforced by Lolth- every third son is to be sacrificed to her- two male children are expendable and acceptable but any further are sacrificed after birth.

Jarlaxle's mother, ruler of the highest house and having kept that seat for Ages, went to acquiesce with that upon Jarlaxle's birth.

Lolth told her no. Jarlaxle was to live, he was too interesting.

He has since made this an everyone else problem. Man has connections in the underdark and surface, everything he wears is in some form enchanted, he's proficient with just about everything, and he is so fascinated with various things and just wants to see what happens next and how it can help him get ahead. I love him. I wanna study him under a microscope. Every character that's been in a campaign he's turned up in has vibe checked him and decided they want out of the room right now immediately. Most notably my dude who was sometimes part moose said "I'd like to leave, actually"

Urick - Drakengard 2

A masked man who lives a life haunted by the curse of death. Three years ago, after a tragic incident, he made a pact with the Reaper, although the price he paid for this pact is unknown. At first glance he appears to be a carefree, lively character who could never bear a grudge. However, on rare occasions, his jovial facade can't quite conceal the truth...

To preface the significance of this-

A Pact, also known as a Contract (契約 Keiyaku?) in the Japanese version, is a contract system in the world of Drakengard between a human (or other humanoid race) and a beast. By merging their souls together, the human gains supernatural powers, and both participants gain a second chance in life should either or both be close to death. The human must pay some price for the pact, and if one should be fatally injured, it means death for both unless the pact is broken. Beings who have formed a pact with each other are referred to as "pact-partners".

Urik's pact is his mortality. Straight up he does not have a heart in his chest anymore. He's just a generally chill guy and while I haven't gone through Drakengard 2 in years (thanks playstation for 0 drakengard or drakengard 2 rep) I remember him fondly. I forgot how much I loved him and that his wiki trivia describes him as "Urick is good at playing dead." The game quote they chose for him is "Just because you can't make any friends, doesn't mean you should take it out on the rest of us" which is what he says as he's about to save your character's life.

plus lookit this smile

War - Darksiders

You can look me in the eye when I kill you.

Darksiders is a game about oops, the apocalypse started on earth! Heaven and Hell start duking it out in the streets and humanity suffers for it. Humans die out, earth is in ruins, and all of it is conveniently laid at the feet of War - youngest of the Four Horsemen who has gotten in trouble for fighting with humanity before (please see left arm being fuckoff huge gauntlet. That's a prosthetic. Death cut his arm off for that bullshit in the comics).

Now, War is a man of his word and high code of honor- he said he'd leave humans be and he did. He's been framed and the Council- those in charge of keeping the balance and the bosses of the Horsemen- gives him a shot to prove his innocence and find the actual culprits with a Watcher keeping tabs and reporting back.

This is his horse, Ruin

This is his Chaos Form

War is voiced by Liam O'Brian and the Watcher is voiced by Mark Hamill. so that's fun. Samael in game could also get it but that does not a fav make.

Also fun lore fact: all the horsemen's horses are the same species. The horse just reflects the rider once they've bonded. Fun magic shit.

#i think i've gone off the rails enough oops #thank you for asking!#rambles from the morgue #morg be normal about ur favs challenge: failed

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