#r's 3k
Note
FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!
how about... "you shouldn't have touched them. every single mark on their body is going to be returned to yours." wiiith our mans eric northman!
please, thank you, love youuu!!! 🩵🩵
𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗡'𝗧 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞
eric northman x fem!reader
summary: 1.3k
You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?
or the one where eric saves you from an anti-vampire rights enthusiast.
warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, death, kidnapping, stabbing
a/n: i know i said drabbles but i couldn't contain myself. i am violently ill with my love for this man.
masterlist | taglist
You think you're dying. surely. There's no way the human body would be able to endure this much pain without ultimately giving up the ghost, right?
You never should have gotten involved with vampires. They were nothing but a bucket of trouble, as your mother would have put it. And has she had put it, a multitude of times, before she'd ever even known you'd applied to work at Shreveport's resident vampire bar.
What she didn't know, though, was how incredible they could be. How, even without all their supernatural abilities, intensely good they could be when they decided they wanted. How loyal and caring and kind when they chose to do so. Just how beautiful they could be, fangs and all.
‘Course, there still was that whole bucket of trouble thing.
"You sure are pretty for a fangbanger," your captor drawled from where he was watching you from across the room. He'd tied you to a chair at the center of it, thick scratchy ropes binding your wrists to the unlaquered wood beneath you. You spit, knowing that it won't reach the man from this distance, but hoping, almost willing it to hit him squarely between the eyes.
“Fuck you,” you say.
“Ooh,” he whistles. “You’ve sure got a mouth on you, sweet cheeks. Why waste it on one of those dead fuckers when you could have someone with an actual, bleeding fucking heart?”
“You’re a waste of skin, you piece of shit,” you huff. Not that it was any of his goddamn business, anyway, but you had only ever slept with one man, and it sure as shit hadn’t been one of your bosses.
“Aw, c’mon. I bet you get so cold after one of them vampers is inside you, don’t you. All icy and chilly like. Let me give you a little tip, sweetheart. Humans. Need. Warmth.”
“You say that as if you aren’t a fucking sad sack,” you say. “What a sorry excuse for a human, huh?”
“What’d they do to you, huh, girl? Did they glamor you into only wanting a dead man’s dick?” he asks, slowly shifting and standing from his stool so that he could approach you. Despite their constant–and half-hearted–threats, you’d never been glamored by your vampire coworkers. Your breathing shakes as he approaches in swift steps. It’s then that you see the knife in his hand.
For the first time in a long time, you realize, genuine fear strikes through you.
“I’m gonna teach those vampers a lesson,” he says. “And you’re going to help me do that.”
You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?
The knife trails along your collarbone. You're glad it was as dull as it was, knowing if it'd been sharper it would be slicing the skin open in its path down. Then he presses down harder. You can’t muffle the whine as it escapes you, no matter how much you want to. No matter how desperately you wish to not show the man that he holds any power over you. You can feel the blood seeping out of the wound. It dribbles down your chest in a thick stream as it pools and stains the gray cotton of your t-shirt.
“Stop!” you plead. He chuckles before driving the blade deeper into you. With feeble force, you try to get him off with a stunted kick to his knee; It was all you could manage with the way your knees had been duct-taped together.
“Bitch!” he heaves before rearing back to slap you with the bladeless hand. It slashes your cheek, shallowly, thankfully, but you can feel the ache of where his hand had connected with your cheekbone. “You’re gonna regret that.”
He takes the knife and stabs it into your side, just narrowly missing your ribcage.
Before you can manage out even a wince, the door to the small shack you’d been held in for the last few hours splinters and it unceremoniously removed from its hinges.
Eric says nothing as he rushes in. You barely register that it’s him save for the split second image you’d captured from where he’d lingered in the doorway. Your captor is off of you instantly, though you’re still bound to the chair. Eric stills. Wind warps around him as he does so, wrapping him in a flurry of movement as he stands with the man locked in his grasp.
“You never should have fucking touched her,” Eric growls with his fangs fully extended, grip tightening around the burly man’s neck and raising him inches off the ground. There’s not even a hint of the usual smirk you were so accustomed to seeing. “Every single mark on her body will be returned unto you tenfold.”
“She fucking deserved it,” he gargles as the vampire latches onto the expanse of neck not currently held within his hand. The man screams out in anguish and you pull your eyes tight to avoid watching any more. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hearing. The screams and the rips and the crunches. You hear something hard and solid hit the floor and somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach you know it’s bone.
You hear the man gasp out a dead fuck only for Eric’s grasp to tighten fully, effectively severing the man’s skull from his spinal chord without detaching it from his body. The man drops to the floor with a loud thump and Eric shoves the corpse away with the toe of his shoe before he moves toward you.
“What took you so long?” you exhaled as he moved behind you to unbind your wrists.
“I was away on business,” he gruffs, spitting slightly to get the last of the man’s blood out of his mouth. He’d already drunk his fair share, you thought, what good what that do?
Swallowing, you ask, “And you still came?”
He walks back around to begin undoing the restraints on your legs. He’s being so gentle, you realize. If he’d wanted, he could have had this done within seconds and yet, here he was, tenderly undoing the tape and rope and rubbing a soothing hand over the abraded skin.
“I’ll always come for you,” he says. “Until I meet the true death, I will always come for you.”
He extends his wrist up to his mouth and you wince as he punctures the flesh.
“Eric,” you sigh.
“Drink,” he says.
Nodding, you allow him to bring his wrist to your mouth and latch down on the leaking wound. It’s tangy and metallic and overall pretty gross, but you’re more than grateful for it at that moment. You lick your lips when he pulls his arm back down, the small bite marks already well on their way to closing completely.
“Will you take me home?” you ask, suddenly overwhelmed with the wave of fatigue hitting you.
He rises back to his full height and extends a hand out towards you. The second you grab it, he’s pulling you up from your chair to hold you flush against his form. Then, in another rush of wind, you’re standing on your front porch.
Slowly, you pull away from the vampire to take a step towards your door. Your body aches, but it’s already mostly healed as you run a hand over the small incision at your waist.
“Thank you,” you say. “Eric.”
He’s silent, looking you over in a way that you can’t help but think is more than just an assessment of your injuries. He settles on your eyes when he says, “Anytime.”
#eric northman#eric northman x reader#true blood#true blood imagine#alexander skarsgard#alexander skarsgard x reader#r's 3k
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I remember I had a concept about alternative ending of sl where michael brings ennard home and jus lives very normal life with a killing machine...
also here's ennard with da cat
#yep they are besties in my head#also sibling coded not only bc elizabeth but ennard taking michael clothes to cover themselves when going outside#i am having thoughts about them like a lot#fnaf#michael afton#ennard#fnaf sister location#cat#2k...#3k.....#4k!!!#5k??!!#6k wha-#7k guys r u crazy...#8k#9k bro#10k happy new year!!
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"i'll go ahead and retrieve the payments to the mighty..seven"
"nein."
"???"
"we lost two, in the sewers."
#3h18m c2e10#sc#critical role#cr2#cr lb#fjord cr#r: mighty nein#c2 top table#travis willingham#marisha ray#liam o'brien#1k#3k#cr things
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"What is your woman? Is she just a container for the child?"
—Frank Ocean; Pink Matter FT. André 3000
#frank ocean#pink matter#channel orange#lyrics#music#r&b#rap#rap lyrics#r&b lyrics#song lyrics#pink + white#lost#pyramids#super rich kids#andre 3000#andre 3k
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fem dreamling my loves! this was originally inspired by @pies-in-the-skies gorgeous perfect art (check it out. admire it. adore it) but i got kind of sidetracked so i figured i'd post separately rather than appending so as not to derail the art.
10% engagement photos! and 90% rambling about dream's relationship with art, which is my greatest passion
--
Convincing Dream to have engagement photos taken might just be Hob’s greatest coup. She’s still not sure how she quite managed it. Granted, she had asked between kisses, but Dream had still seemed amenable to it the following morning.
Photos. Of Dream. What a thought.
It’s proving a dangerous one, though. For Hob’s sanity. Seeing Dream in her elegant dress, under lights, hair spilling from its updo to trail over her shoulders. Hob was incapable of handling Dream on a normal day, never mind like this.
Earlier, she’d had Dream sprawled out below her, like an offering. Like the most beautiful thing Hob had ever seen. Hob had run her hands over her, just because she could, touched her fragile throat, the hard line of her collarbone, the hollow of her stomach as she breathed, the jut of her hips, the curve of her thigh, touched her everywhere. Dream had watched her, eyes half-lidded. Enjoying the attention as always.
Hob had run a finger over her brows, her temple, the sharp angle of her cheek, her nose, her lips, dipping into her mouth. During a private moment, slipping a hand under the neckline of her dress, tracing the curve of her breast. Thumbing over her nipple.
Dream had raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say anything. Instead she took Hob’s hand, brought it to her lips, and nipped at her fingertips.
It had taken Hob a while to recover her composure and remember that this was not what photoshoots were for, actually.
Now, Hob is the one looking up at her, absolutely relishing in the view. Their photographer really did know how to pick a pose, this is glorious. Dream has a hand on her shoulder, pressing lightly, almost possessive. She looks carved of marble, dress draping over her bony frame, aristocratic face turned off to the distance.
“You’re so gorgeous in that,” Hob says. “So gorgeous. You look like a Roman goddess. One of those statues they have in museums.”
“I was a Roman goddess,” says Dream. “In a manner of speaking.”
“You’re my goddess,” Hob says, which is a sickening line but it gets a tiny, humored smirk out of Dream.
“Trite,” she says.
“Well, you’re the wordsmith between us. Princess of Stories. I only wish they could capture that on camera.”
“It has taken me some time to properly catch up on this art form,” says Dream. “When I… left, photography was not what it is now. But. I do believe the camera tells its own kind of tale.”
“Wise artist,” Hob says, and kisses the back of her hand, so full of fondness for her delicate, thoughtful fiancée – fiancée! – that she could burst.
She had been surprised by how easily Dream had taken to the rapid changes in art and stories over the century she’d been gone. It would be a lot for anyone to take in, especially a creature who could feel, hear, see, all of it, all at once. But Dream has taken it in stride, learning as she goes.
It’s been fascinating to watch the being who inspires these dreams learn of them from the outside. Hob has shown her so many films, and she seems enamored with each one. Cinema had, after all, still been in its infancy back in the 1910s. “Very dreamlike,” Dream had observed, after the first one they had watched, the echo of a memory in her eyes. “I recall meeting Méliès in Paris. A singular and whimsical soul. I’m glad to see they have taken up his torch.”
God, she really did just know every artist, didn’t she?
She’s missed a lot of them, though. She’s missed so much dreamlike art, the art of fantasy during the many wars, the art of post-industrialization, surrealism, Dada, post-modernism, the advent of comics, the advent of animation, all of radio, and television, and on and on and on and it hurts Hob’s heart to think of but she does love seeing Dream’s wonder in witnessing it now.
For all that she plays at stoicism and misanthropy Dream has such a genuine love of art and storytelling, and it still breaks Hob’s heart to think of her alone and cut off from it all for so long. Left to only her thoughts, which Hob knows well are turbulent at best.
She knows that Dream has seen all of it, now, in its scattered form in the Dreaming, but Hob is determined to let her experience it like a person, too.
Dream is of course, herself, also a piece of dreamlike art.
“Come down here,” Hob says, tugging on her hand.
Dream frowns, but drapes herself beside Hob on the settee, propping her head on her arm.
“I wanted to see the art up close,” Hob explains, with a grin.
“I don’t think that is the point of this exercise,” Dream says, but doesn’t move away.
“I still can’t believe I actually convinced you to let yourself be photographed,” Hob admits. “Would’ve thought you’d prefer to whisp away like a dream and never be recorded.”
“I have been drawn infrequently in this form, it is true,” Dream agrees. “Such is my nature. Artists may try, but art of dreams is always an abstraction.”
“Nobody can capture the true you, then?” Hob teases, brushing a strand of Dream’s hair behind her ear and letting her hand linger there, cradling her face.
Dream’s smile echoes with the deep knowledge and mystery of all the thousands of years of her life. “Because it is an abstraction does not mean it is not true.”
“Wise philosopher,” Hob murmurs. “C’mere.”
Dream leans into her arms, and Hob kisses her, tasting the fine line of her mouth, hands running up the sharp angles of her back. She distantly hopes their photographer, currently on a short break, might actually capture this moment, private though it is.
“Do not show these to anyone else,” Dream murmurs, and ah, maybe they did capture this on camera, and only Dream can see it from her angle.
Hob laughs, a breathy thing against her mouth. “God, no. Those are just for me. Although I do love having you on my arm. Showing you off. Prettiest thing in the world that you are.”
Or being on her arm, as it were, for Hob has attended a fair number of cryptic supernatural events in that manner.
“Such a flatterer. One might think you are only around to stoke my ego.”
“Aren’t I?” Hob kisses her again, soft and sweet and lingering. “Not that it needs any more stoking.”
“Oh, but it likes it.”
Hob kisses along her throat, under the hinge of her jaw. “I’ll bet.”
They kiss until it gets to the point where it’s starting to feel a little much for a setting where other people could appear at any time. Although… a proper boudoir session. It’s a compelling thought. A very compelling thought, even if those photos might actually kill Hob instantly.
“What else do you want to do on your day off, oh dream lord?” she asks, instead. “Considering I’ve roped you into my own machinations for half of it.”
“It’s been no burden,” says Dream. She smirks. “I have been suitably bribed with compliments.”
“Cheeky.”
“What shall we do with our evening?” Dream muses. Then grins, and it’s— it’s rare, that grin. A smile of genuine delight that breaks through her usual seriousness only on the slimmest of occasions. God, Hob loves that smile. “Movie.”
“Of course. I should have guessed.” Hob rolls onto her back, dragging Dream with her. This has become a common occurrence on days Dream permits herself a break from her never-ending work. Sometimes, Hob will take her out to the cinema properly, but more often than not they just end up on Hob’s couch, Dream sprawled across Hob’s lap, Hob stroking her hair as she watches whatever they’ve put on with absolute fixation.
“Netflix and chill,” so to speak, does not work with Dream. She’s far too committed to whatever story she’s dived into to be distracted. She watches films like they’re devotionals written for her, and maybe they are. Dreams captured momentarily in a frame.
Never separate a dream lord from her dreams.
Netflix then chill usually ends up happening, though.
“A movie it is, my liege,” Hob says, and Dream smiles, satisfied.
Least it’s not YouTube. Matthew had attempted to explain YouTube to Dream a while back, and it had been a horrifying experience, although her pinched, perplexed expression had been so adorable. Should Hob find a dream lord adorable? Oh well, she did anyway.
Later, Hob had given Dream her laptop to play around with, and found her still there many hours later, squinting at the screen, where a YouTube video was playing. Hob had no idea what was going on in this video, it was some kind of surreal, hypnotic animation.
“There is… so much, Hob,” Dream had said, sounding awed.
“Yeah, and a lot of it is shit, I’m afraid to tell you.”
But Dream just repeated, in a whisper, “There is so much,” and Hob’s heart hurt but in a good way, such a good way.
Hob had yet to try to explain TikTok to her. Not so much because of the horrors contained therein – when she really thought about it, Dream had seen and known every deep horror that had ever crossed the human psyche and could probably be fazed by very little – but rather because Hob was a bit worried she might just lose her into the endless scroll of content.
Give a dream lord an app full of the chaotic mess of dreams and only God knew what might happen.
“You spoil me,” Dream murmurs now, running a delicate hand up and down Hob’s arm.
Hob laughs. “You ask for the smallest things, love. Ask me for the world, and I’d give it to you.”
“I already have your love,” Dream says, bright-dark glimmer in her eyes were she looks down on Hob. “That is no small thing.”
Hob’s love for Dream is in fact very big inside her. “No, I guess not. But it’s easy to give.”
“And you say that I am an impossible creature.” Dream touches her face with light fingertips. “Although, I have found that…” she considers her words. “It has not been so hard to take, either.”
What it means to hear that from the woman who’d literally run the first time Hob had called her a friend. Hob doesn’t think Dream knows how it feels to her. She’ll probably never quite know, but that’s okay.
“Good.” She threads a hand in Dream’s hair, throat tightening. “Good, my darling. Good.”
#they r having the sluttiest time at the engagement photoshoot lmao#unprofessional behavior#dreamling#fem dreamling#dream of the endless#hob gadling#my writing#pies-in-the-skies#i'm still trying to finish nano. i have 3k left. wish me godspeed
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whoa
#there r 3k of u here hi hello#um amazed tht i got here bc i block everyone who even looks at me but also#3k is like 2k too many n i wanna delete n start over now#might do a purge or something there r a lot of u n i would be flattered if i didnt have social anxiety sjnfhd
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thinking back on it i feel so bad for any of my middle school english teachers because i was 100% insufferable to have
#icarus speaks#i was SUCH an overachiever but only when it came to english#bc i Loved reading and writing#like. would get in trouble for reading in class levels of stuff#in 6th grade we had to read like. i think 100 pages? it wasn’t a lot#and log them + vocab words over winter break#i think. iirc. i read either 5k or 10k#and logged EVERY vocab word i found#then in seventh grade we had a month-long essay/research doc#where we had to pick a book. read it throughout the month. and then write about it#i finished the entire thing the Day after it was assigned#and THEN in 8th grade we had to write i think a minimum of 3k words#of a creative writing piece where you expanded upon an epilogue of the giver#i wrote. 10k words.#these r just my Biggest infringements but by god 😭#very surprised none of my teachers snapped and just killed me#it would’ve been. extremely justified
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thank u for 2.8k :3
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it's okay i can take my time this is a leisure activity vs give me my fucking dopamine NOW
#we r deep in the wip at this point and im experiencing fic finish dopamine withdrawals 🫠🫠#if i keep going at the current pace there's approximately 4 or 5k left of this one#which considering i am 7.5k in rn is not THAT bad#its been much much worse before lol#i think i am just a leetle fic fatigued with it yk#like i set out to write a cute little 3k snackette#and its absolutely monstered me#if i come up with smth cool i might do another wip post just for fun today
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BON TEMPS, LOUISIANA. send in a character from my guide + a concept for a drabble!
hiiiii rom ♡ i’m very excited for you celebration! happy belated birthday and congratulations on 3k, you deserve it so so so much!!!!!
eddie munson + friends to lovers, shy!reader’s first kiss.
if anyone were to ask what you were thinking about right now, you'd have to lie. you'd have to think up something perfectly believable and inconspicuous to hide the fact that the only thing currently scouring in the depths of your brain were vivid images of what it'd feel like to kiss your best friend.
but luckily, there wasn't anyone else there. except eddie. and his perfectly full, pink, improbably kissable lips. you think he's caught on by the way he's looking at you. hope he hasn't, hope to hell he hasn't noticed where your eyes have lingered, but think it's impossible for him not to have.
"penny for your thoughts?" he asks, pulling you from your current daydream. you wonder when he'd moved so close to you. not ten minutes ago he'd been at the other end of the bed, shoved up against the headboard fiddling with his guitar and now he was less than a couple inches away. your breath hitches involuntarily.
"nothing," you huff. you force your gaze away from him, opting to look at the van halen poster tacked up above his dresser instead.
"doesn't seem like nothing," he says. "why are you keeping secrets from me?"
"i'm not!" you squeak. "i swear i'm not, it's nothing."
he leans closer. you can practically feel his nose brushing against your hair. maybe you're imagining that though. another one of your daydreams.
"sweetheart," he says. his voice has dropped an octave. it's lost that playful lilt. "would it help if i went first?"
"eddie?" you exhale.
"yeah?" you give into his pull and turn your head to look back at your best friend. he's not even hiding the way his eyes have locked on your mouth. they flicked up, for a second, to see where your own eyes have wandered off to. of course, they're where they always are.
"tell me... tell me if this is too much," he whispers. "okay?"
you nod. you don't have the ability to trust your voice in this moment.
you almost think you're dreaming again. that you're lost in thought and the second you blink eddie will be back at the edge of the bed with his notebook in his lap, scribbling away at the song he'd been working on for the last couple of days.
but he isn't. he's inches away, leaning in, lips brushing over yours. heat overcomes you, burning the tip of your nose and the edges of your ears.
you see white when he finally kisses you. his lips aren't as soft as you had imagine, more chapped and rough as they mold against yours, but it's just as perfect.
#r's 3k#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x shy!reader#stranger things#stranger things imagine#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x reader
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am i, a retired fanfic veteran, once again writing fanfic? and it’s for the bear? yes, apparently. i’m even working on a damn playlist 😭 it's not even like, fully in theme with the fic itself, it's just songs that feel important at the moment (this fanvid was the starting inspiration). missing a few songs i'm not quite sure should be included, and also this remix!!!
#the bear#the bear hulu#also by retired i mean the last fanfic i ever wrote & published was on quizilla or live journal i think lmaoooo#also i feel like syd would listen to sad bachata songs but i need to find the right ones#but also she mostly listens to a lot of r&b in general but i could be basing that on me and what i listened to when i worked in a kitchen#i’m posting this mainly so i can keep myself accountable to finishing said fic#which is currently looking like it'll clock in at 3k words minimum lmao it just keeps going
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only have 2-ish scenes left for the ricky fic 😭😭😭.
#i say 2-ish bcs they're long scenes. maybe 3k words each AHAHAAHHA#i can finish it soon but the problem is i don't have free time anymore 😭#i was able to write 3-4k a day prior but today i only got a few hundred words in ugshsjsjs#my finals r next week and i have a few papers on my plate. but i'm hoping to squeeze out the fic by weekend#while im still very inspired for it HAHAHAHAHA#anyway it's almost 5am i have to wake up in 3hrs gnight#answering asks when i have the time!!!! huhuhu
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Hiya! I love your writing and ive been following your blog for a couple of years now (2-3 I think) and I just wanted to say how much I appreciate and adore your writing! Thank you so much for all you’ve written! Ive not been on tumblr much the past few months, and I’ve found that many of my favourite writers are leaving and deactivating their accounts, which is such a pity although completely understandable! Tumblr can be a pretty sucky platform for writers unfortunately :/ anyways I just wanted to thank you for your writing, it’s absolutely gorgeous and your style inspirational! I hope you keep writing, on or off tumblr, as you truly have a gorgeous and unique style! Thank you so much for all your contributions and I hope you’re having a lovely day!!
NONNIEEEEE oh my god oh my god hi hello I am going to sob first and foremost so im gonna get all snotty all over this ask wozooqjzlaozo but thank you so much? genuinely genuinely this means more than u can imagine and I aaAAAAA (being off tumblr and on and off writing ((mostly off oop)) really shows via my decline of the eng language clearly HAHAHA I can’t even articulate properly)
THANK U FOR BEING HERE FOR SO LONG?? AND REMEMBERING ME?? AND JUST. IT FEELS LIKE COMING HOME AND THEN SEEING ALL MY OLD FRIENDS AND THE NOSTALGIA IS A LIL NUCLEAR AND IM JUST SO EMOTIONAAAAAAL AAAAAA
Thank YOUUU for being on here and reading and being so so so lovely to me AND ALSO. im gonna go hide in the tags actually but I owe u my life I am kissing all ur fingers nd toes and maybe lips I’m infinitely happy that ur still here after all this time on this platform, I hope u are having the best day (and the best past few years whilst I’ve been mia <333)
#urusai! baka#OH MYGUAIZIAOZOAKZPIAOAOAO#U DONT UNDERSTAND HOW THIS MADE MY DAY MADE MY WEEK MADE MY ??? MONTH#ILYSM GENUINELY SO SO#I CAME TO CRY ABOUT UR LOVELY COMPLIMENTS IN MY TAGS#BECAUSE I COULDNT DO IT OUT IN THE MAIN POST IM#KICKING MY FEET BLUSHING RUNNING LAPS IN MY BEDROOM AND TAKING COLD SHOWERS#thank u so much for just. ur#idek i never know what to say when someone compliments my writing because im simultaneously combusting at the praise and being seen and just#its so !!!!! thank u for recognizing (??? not the right woed for this but) it and im so happy u like it!!!!#I am working on a fic!! 3k in!! it was going strong and then i got distracted by irl axooaz but its a partner fic with rae rae and SHES#BASICALLY DONE HERS SO IM GONNA QORK HARD TO GET BACK INTO MINE#I love writing sm i just waterboard myself with wips a lil hehe#but hopefully i am praying i xan finish smth for once (again finally)#also re: writers leaving— its so sad and i get itttt and I MISS EVEDYONE ON HERE AND TOSAY I ACC JUAT GOT A TIKTOK FROM 2020 HQ AND IT MADE#ME WANT TO CLAW MY FLESH OFF MY BONES AND FEED IT TO A TIME MACHINE SO I CAN LIKE#PERMANENTLY LIVE IN THAT TIMEEEW AAAA ok ok anyways#i love u pls stay and this msg made my heart explode like a supernova#u r near nd dear to my heart everyone from that time is automatically i am latching onto u all#kissing u loving u hoping the past fww yeass have been amazing for u <33333
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: One Piece
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Gol D. Roger/Silvers Rayleigh
Characters: Gol D. Roger, Silvers Rayleigh, Roger Pirates (One Piece), Crocus (One Piece), Laboon (One Piece), He's there! yay whale!
Additional Tags: umm?, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Is that what this is? Sickfic?, Terminal Illnesses, Pre-Canon, oh yeah it's not a work of mine without, Sharing a Bed, lol, Missing Scene, missing scenes plural really but like. loosely. ahah., I feel like I need to edit this one quite a bit so. fair warning
Summary:
The first time Roger coughs himself breathless, Rayleigh is adrift, eyes narrowed and hands instantly shooting forward to catch his slumping captain, sliding palms beneath his shirt to feel the spasm of those sturdy ribs, so much Rayleigh’s keel around which he constructs himself--now quivering under his fingers.
(Saccharine read, such a sentimental novel.
Give you cavities if it doesn't drive you to the bottle.)
#this was for an event I think#back in 2020#maybe I should start tagging my writing with. when it was written. since most of these cross-uploads are super old now#tag later#queue#prose#text#1k-3k#gol d. roger#Silvers Rayleigh#my ship name for them is r^2 but I don't know what people on tumblr call them#one piece#I think those are all the tags
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how. literally how
#i refuse to believe that there’s only 3k adventure time fics on ao3#what happened#is there a secret fandom tag i don’t know?#did almost everyone delete their fics a few years ago#does this fandom mostly use wattpad?#i genuinely cannot believe there r so little fics#ao3#adventure time
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Forgetting the Sky (Sahara Cizîrî x Rêzan)
I've been real busy w life and character studies that I've neglected this for too long. In the spirit of wanting to clean out my to-do list I'm gonna grind to finish this (though I have gotten a lot of progress here and there). It's a writing trade with @galpalaven and I hope that both they and you enjoy it dear reader lol. Also, forgive me, my characterization might be a lil rusty since it has been an on-and-off project for a while,,,)))
Edit: forgot to tag the actual blog of the game lmao @ataleofcrowns
Rêzan looked up toward the large, blue expanse that stretched out over the palace and beyond. Not a single cloud was in sight today. And, from the fluttering of his dark locks, there was a chilly breeze in the air.
The Lord Sorcerer could hear the birds chirping away on this day. They freely sang their songs without a care in the world, filling up the afternoon with their music somewhere off in the distance.
It was beautiful.
But it was also so, terribly dreadful.
It felt like months- no- years had passed without a single drop of rain. Without the rainy season, the agricultural regions of Arsur would suffer. They did suffer. Impoverished farmers who were not able to afford the pricy assistance of magi to help irrigate their crops were held behind by the manual labor of digging canals to drain what they could from the rivers.
The very Spirits themselves seem to grow restless, weak even, and priests from all over the country were petitioning for assistance from the Crown.
His Crown.
All at once.
He wished he could do more for her. He'd wanted nothing more than the ability to relieve the responsibilities weighing on her shoulders in their entirety, but he couldn't. He had already done everything in his power to assist as is.
The Lord Sorcerer had recruited magi from the various schools across the empire to help with the water crisis. He made sure to send aid to the priests and helped organize the petitioners so that not a single moment of his love's time would be wasted. Hours were spent in his office, combing through records and books for a cure of some kind or a reason for the sudden lack of water.
His body ached at the mere recollection of the endless work he had been doing to help his Crown.
Yet, nothing ever truly felt enough. A feeling that was all too familiar to the magus, even after all these years of successful, faithful servitude in his position.
Sahara didn't even notice when he had knocked, Rêzan waiting a moment before letting himself into her chambers.
It was an absolute mess.
There were piles of scrolls and tomes scattered around the room, maps, and missives draping themselves across the sitting pillows and huddling together at the end of her bed.
Her bedroom resembled the inside of a mercenary's tent rather than the resting place of the Crown of Arsur.
With her back turned to him, Rêzan took slow and quiet strides toward her. The magus paused, checking to see if she would take note of his presence.
Silence.
Just the scribbling of her pen to fill the air between them.
Moving in, his delicate fingers locked together over her face, covering her eyes. The Lord Sorcerer could feel his Crown tensing under his touch, then relaxing upon recognizing his familiar presence.
The sudden gasp that escaped her made his heart skip a beat or two, the smile dancing on her lips pulling at the corner of his own.
"Did I surprise you, beloved?"
"You- you constantly surprise me, my love," she replied in return, her heart slowly returning to a normal rate. The endearment directed towards him rolled off her tongue so naturally- so easily- that it made the tips of his ears turn red. He averted his gaze turned from her, finding himself unable to meet her eyes as his own found their way to what she had been working on.
A letter. A rather strongly worded one at that.
"Oh, were you writing to the Mîrs?"
Her hands moved to his, pulling them down and letting his fingertips rest against her shoulders. Lord Rêzan did his best to hold his tongue upon seeing the way his Crown's shoulders slumped at the mere mention of the Mîrs. It wasn't going too well it seemed.
"I'm afraid so. The reports from Marabad didn't appear to be consistent with the reports from the royal army we received yesterday. The situation in Penewar has apparently turned for the worse as well."
She pointed her finger accusingly at two open letters sitting on the far end of her desk, glaring at them as if the parchment had somehow managed to offend her personally. In a way, Rêzan supposed they did.
Looking back to his love, the magus took note of the Crown's weary eyes, her sunken cheeks beneath the glimmer of distilled sunlight that dusted her cheeks. Though there still was a shine to her face, her normally glowing features seemed dull and drained of life.
"Sahara?"
"Yes?“
"When was the last time you took a rest from your duties? Have you had anything to drink recently? Have you had anything to eat?" Worry laced itself throughout each and every question. From the way his grey eyes scanned up and down Sahara, she knew there'd be plenty more questions to answer unless she put an early stop to it.
The Crown whipped around in her seat, looking up to shoot the man an incredulous look.
"Rêzan."
He blinked at her raised brow.
"I…um. Have I said something wrong?"
"Surely, you, of all people are not in a position to be fretting over me with such questions."
Her pointed words stole a small chuckle from him. She certainly had a point there, that he couldn't deny.
The bags under his eyes were probably not making a very convincing foundation for his concern. The magus knew full well that he had little room to talk, the countless times Sahara has had to pry him from his work recounted in his mind.
Still, he couldn't help but be concerned. He was the Crown's Sorcerer after all, he could afford to push himself to his limits. It was his duty to. But his Crown? He couldn't allow her to do the same, he needed her to be alright.
Their whole country did.
Rêzan studied her gaze, the golden shine of her eyes melting away his anxiety ever so slightly. Deep down, he knew better. He knew of her strength, her resolve, and he knew of her capabilities. He also knew that, at the end of the day, Sahara could handle herself. His Crown, if anything, was resilient.
It was just one of the many qualities that he found so enchanting about her.
"Forgive me, my Crown," He leaned down, gently prying the pen from her hand. Fortunately for him, Sahara relented, her gaze following his movements as he slowly placed it to the side for emphasis. As if to put on a little show for her, the magus slowly raised her hand to his lips. Drinking up the beautiful red on her face and feeling rather emboldened, Rêzan brushed his lips against her bare knuckles. "I hope you will be able to indulge me, just this once."
There was a pause. Sahara pursed her lips a little.
"I suppose we both could use a break." Sahara relented, putting down her papers and stretching her limbs out. The emphasis on her words made it clear, however, that if she were to rest, then so would he.
An arrangement he was happy to agree to.
"Shall I ask for some refreshments then? The servants are just outside. Perhaps you would like something to eat, if I am to assume that you haven't already. It must have been-."
Sahara raised her hand to slow his words as she considered the idea for a moment. But after a long second of contemplation, she shook her head.
The Crown turned her attention from him, beginning to clear away her desk. "No, there's no real need to trouble them just yet, I do think I'd like to rest my eyes if I can, however."
Rêzan looked around to survey the damage his love had done to her room, "I believe that can be arranged…" His words trailed off as he made to help clear the rest of her chamber, moving to the center of the room and holding out his palms.
There was a flutter, a surge of energy through him. It was as if he had given life to the papers around the two of them, sheets flying around and falling into neat piles. Scrolls coiled themselves up once more, stacking atop each other, though he knew they would still need to sort them later.
For now, though, it would suffice.
"You really must teach me how you do that later," Sahara breathed in amazement, brushing past the magus and seizing the chance to lay on her now-restored mattress. The brief touch alone sent a small shiver down Rêzan's back, the magus feeling his face warm a little.
"Hmm… I suppose I could. It would simply depend on how your magic lessons are going."
The Crown gasped in mock offense while Rêzan made himself comfortable on a seat nearby her bed.
"My magic lessons are going perfectly fine, I assure you! …Unless," she hesitated, looking at him with slight concern and pulling her lips into a tight, small frown. "Did Perjin say otherwise in their reports to you?"
"What?" The idea seemed ridiculous to the Lord Sorcerer, "Not at all. I, however, am certainly pleased to see that you are aware of your impressive growth though."
Sahara groaned at that, earning herself a laugh from her Sorcerer. Unable to hide her face without losing some of the golden pigment to the pillows, she opted to switch the conversation instead. With a few scoots back, she patted the space in front of her in invitation. There was a noise that sounded reminiscent of a cough, her golden eyes evading the inquisitive look directed toward her.
"Will you not join me? Or did you intend on continuing to tease me from a distance like so," Her voice was soft now, almost inaudible.
"I was hoping you'd ask, actually," Rêzan shyly admitted, the confidence dying a little in his throat as he joined his love. His prior teasing seemed to have burned up what little forwardness he could muster now.
It was one thing to trade easy flirtations and teasing words across the room. It was even easier for the two of them to raise each other up with earnest compliments too.
But it was a whole nother thing to be so close.
They lay there for a while, neither daring to say a word, fearing what would happen should someone disrupt the peaceful bliss that blanketed them. The comforting silence hung there for a long moment, a welcome guest in the couple's eyes. And though the silent squeeze the Lord Sorcerer gave Sahara's hand spoke volumes, the peaceful silence remained, at least for a short while longer.
”Are you feeling a little better?“
The Crown squeezed his hand in response.
“Oh, most definitely, I must thank you for checking in on me. I think… I think I needed this.“
”I am glad to do it,“ He craned his head a little, gently pressing his lips against the top of her head. She was a balm in his arms, the Sorcerer feeling his very worries wither under her presence. The feelings of warmth Rêzan got from cradling her very sunlight in his embrace was one he found himself growing steadily addicted to over the years. ”Truly.“
The couple closed their eyes, their frames slotting together in perfect alignment. It felt like the very heavens themselves came to a standstill, all craning themselves to try and bear witness to the beautiful sight laid out before them.
No amount of filtered sunlight through the curtains nor candleglow could shine through their eclipse, the shroud of their dark hair shielding the other from the world outside.
Spirits, it felt like hours had dragged by, the magus almost dozing off when he heard the soft tones of his beloved's voice coaxing him back to reality.
Sahara had pulled back from him by then, turning over in her bed and staring up at the ceiling.
”My love? Did you hear me?“
”Hmm?“ he responded rather weakly, still a little weary from being denied a well-earned nap.
It took a long pause of silence before Sahara could find the words, and the strength, to continue.
”Do you…Do you think that we've done enough? That there will ever be an 'enough'?“
Rêzan didn't even have to ask to know what she must have been talking about.
The drought.
No matter how hard they'd try to forget, the drought would forever linger in the back of their minds. At least, until the situation was handled and the two finished doing their part for Arsur.
Both Sahara and him cared too much for their country, their people, to allow for it to be any other way.
Though he was naturally observant, Rêzan could easily hear that there was a pained twinge to her words through his time with her alone. The magus rubbed his eyes to refocus his tired gaze on the soft features of her face- the subtle droop of her expression reigniting his worry.
Sometimes, despite his best efforts, he found himself forgetting that she still wasn't completely accustomed to rule. Most days, her demeanor in court and amongst her advisors implied otherwise.
The level of vulnerability she'd show him every once in a while when it was just the two of them, helped to ground the magus back to reality.
Taking a slow breath, he turned onto his back, feeling the cool press of her bed shake the last vestiges of sleep from his mind.
”Are you having a crisis of faith, Sahara?“
It was her turn to laugh this time, albeit a rather weak one.
“Something like that, yes.”
His silvery grey eyes flicked over to Sahara for just a moment before he continued.
“Hmm. You know, I used to have a surprisingly great deal of faith when I was younger. Perhaps not the same type of faith one would have for the Spirits or fate and destiny itself, but in the world. Rather, my place in it, my abilities. Back then, I truly believed that I could do a great deal of good- that one day, I would.”
“Rêzan…”
He smiled at the concern in her voice, his love probably knew where he was going with this, but he continued nevertheless.
”I lost that when the previous Crown became lost to us. I was hopeless, aimless. But then one day… you arrived, caked in dirt and grime.“
“Not the best first impression, I take it.”
“On the contrary, you were radiant. From the very moment we met.“
The two couldn't help but share a look at the mention of their first meeting, the now nostalgic memory warming them from the inside out. His Crown pushed the side of her face against her plush pillow, keeping the hues of red hidden from his view.
Fortunately for her, Rêzan refocused his eyes toward the ceiling once more.
”You gave me purpose, Sahara. You reignited something I had long lost within me. And having spent all these years by your side, witnessing your strength in all its glory, supporting you and being supported, by you, in turn-“
Rêzan had said much, perhaps too much for one to handle at once, but he still felt the need to make his admiration for her clear within his heart- to leave no words left unsaid.
”I swear to you, my Crown, there is not a single soul in this world that I could say I have greater faith in.“
'My'.
It was a simple word, a subtle addition to their respective titles. Yet the power, the hold it had over the couple was unmatched.
The Sorcerer felt Sahara's slender hands cup the side of his face, his sun pulling him in, urging him to look at her.
That beautiful glow in her eyes was stronger, shining brighter through the watery tears that lined her eyes. Sahara was biting down her lip, keeping her emotions at bay as best she could. She leaned forward, their foreheads pressed together.
Then her lips brushed against his own.
She tasted like home, warm and comforting, sweet and safe.
”I apologize, I was rambling again, wasn't I?“ Rêzan laughed, pulling away from her delicate touch to speak and catch his breath. Though his words were faint, near inaudible, he didn't dare raise it in fear that his already weak voice would give out on him.
Sahara leaned back as well, the regained distance between them a mercy for the two reserved lovers.
Though the dark curtains of his hair shielded much of his reddened face from her, Sahara still caught a small glimpse of his beautiful expression.
His gaze was soft, his lips parted ever so slightly. The way he had met her golden eyes just then was worthy of a thousand different poems.
”Oh Rêzan, you know I adore how you ramble,“ Sahara breathed, once again pressing against his lips to sear her affection in his heart.
A low hum against her was the only reply she got from her beloved. As pleased as he was flustered to be so spoiled by the Crown's affections, Rêzan returned her lazy, slow kisses, letting each one linger before he'd seek out another.
”Beloved,” Rêzan breathed, burying his face against the nape of her neck and squeezing her tightly against him to hide from her.
“Yes?” Her breath was airy and light, the Lord Sorcerer doing little to hide the smile he got from hearing her sweet response.
“Have I successfully raised your spirits, Sahara?” A deep blush betrayed his act of confidence, the magus angled his head toward her. “Or shall I continue to sing your praises?”
Sahara looked down at her Sorcerer with an easy smile, finding the remnants of her colored balm on his lips fill her with a renewed flame.
“There is more for you to sing about?” She feigned a look out towards the window before returning back down at her beloved nestled against her. “Well, I'm certain we have more time before we have to get back to our duties, don't we? If you wish to continue singing my praises, then do go on.”
The moon looked at his sun, lips turning playful.
”As you wish, my Crown.”
#atoc#a tale of crowns#atoc creator trade#rozerîn/rêzan#sfw#Fluff#Drabble#this one has been cookin in my head and in my drafts#i know that there are annual floods that happen so just kinda made assuptions and ran w them#hopefully it still feels plausible lol#okokok so i know Sahara and R have this sun and moon dynamic and suffer from the 'and they were both bottoms' dynamic so#i like to think that they take turns being forward-nothing too extreme but enough to prop each other up#compliments passed back and forth...acts of service for one another#sahara is always there to rêzan work so its time for him to be there for her#god im high key proud of this#a month of stewing over ideas and though i normally write 2k max i did 3k worth of poetic romantic fluff#the title is the cutest ref to this pretty poem that was big inspo
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