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miraclecereal · 11 months

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MagiGal

Chapter 1

[Author’s Note: I’m not the best as buildups but oh well.]

When you’re young, everything is extraordinary. Rene remembered when she got her first phone. It was a hand-me-down from her sister, it was slow with a large crack in the top left corner yet it was new and exciting to her.

Now the phone lie in the shoebox underneath her bed along with all the other things her sister had given her. The phone is no longer as high tech and futuristic as she once thought it was.

She remembers looking out the window with amazement. The smell of gas and old food mixed with screaming children and scolding chaperones was overstimulating, but in such a way a child could tolerate. It was exciting because she knew where the bus was taking her. It was taking her to a place where she could be with her friends all summer, a place of competition and learning about the nature around her: Summer camp.

Rene remembers when her sister was a junior camp counselor at the summer camp. She would look at her sister with dazzling eyes. To her child brain, her sister was the epitome of cool and mature. Now she’s fifteen and when the summer ends, she’ll be a freshman in high school. Much like her older sister, she’s returning to summer camp to be a junior camp counselor.

Looking around the bus she can see some familiar faces from both elementary and middle school. There’s a lot of new faces too. Some girls who are talking with friends or looking out the window with determined faces.

The bus takes a sudden stop and she looks out towards the camp. It was no longer the beautiful, nature palace she once thought it was. It was only slabs of jagged wood that somehow formed stable cabins and a canteen. There were no children running around, at least not yet. The junior camp counselors came a couple of hours early to set everything up for the little kids. Rene wasn’t exactly excited to be doing errands in the blistering heat. She wanted to curse her parents to sending her out into the bug infested wilderness to do some glorified babysitting on a whim but she knew they were only doing it because they were worried about her.

Rene steps out of the bus with all the other teens who are enthusiastically talking to each other. Even in the morning the air is hot and suffocating, she can already feel a bug crawling up her arm.

The magic had worn off, she was no longer a child. This was no longer a magical place of play and exploration. Why couldn’t she just be home? Getting her bag out from under the bus reminded her of being in an airport. She couldn’t understand how all of her peers could have so much energy.

For a few minutes the group of teens talked amongst each other until a whistle blew, revealing a tired looking adult wearing the ugly yellow shirt the summer camp’s crest on it. “Welcome junior camp counselors.” Despite the tired look in her eyes she still tries to appear friendly with a smile. “Here you will learn about leadership and responsibility. We promise to teach you skills that will help you in your day to day life as well as important survival skills.”

With how her eyes dart down to her clipboard, it’s obvious she’s reading off of a script. The woman uses her free hand to motion to the name tag stuck to her shirt, it’s decorated with yellow stars. “My name is Amanda and I am one of the counselors here. If you need anything at all you come to me or another camp counselor, we’re here to help and make this enjoyable.” There was something about Amanda. She wasn’t intimidating but she held herself up with confidence. She looked plain, plain enough for people to pass by her without a second thought. The only thing that stood out to Rene was the star hairpin that was clipped to the left side of her hair. Unlike her shirt, it was a pretty yellow. She didn’t know what it was made out of but it looked expensive.

Rene didn’t mean to be rude but she ended up zoning out after that. She had been to this camp so many time, she already knew the rules. Like all the other teenagers, she got her bag from under the bus and placed her things onto one of the cabin’s bunk beds. When she was child, she didn’t mind sleeping on stiff mattress that had a plastic cover over it. The scratchy blanket she was given was the most comfortable thing in her young mind.

Setting things up for the little kids wasn’t as bad as Rene thought it would be but she wasn’t enthusiastic about it. She was introduced to the other counselors, made her own name tag, and helped clean and set up the cabins for the younger kids.

Then the bus carrying the younger kids came. Most of them were smiling and bouncing with excitement. She couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed by the loud children. She did envy their boundless energy though.

Rene mostly stood back and watched, occasionally helping a child get their heavy bag, then helped a few children make their own name tag. A part of her enjoyed doing something other than sitting at home all day but another part of her wanted to be back in her room, wasting her time watching videos on her phone. Most teenagers ignored the rules of not bringing a phone to camp. While the children played on the playground in the center of the trees, the teenagers like her sat at the wooden benches enjoying their plastic wrapped lunches as they chatted and “discreetly” played on their phones. She wished she could have brought her phone but her parents were strict about that.

Rene watched the children play, bouncing her leg. She could see some kids her age that she knew from elementary school but she didn’t have the courage to talk to them. So she sat alone amongst teens that didn’t even seem to acknowledge her existence. It wasn’t their fault, it’s not like she was trying to talk to anyone. She had a few friends she met in middle school but they weren’t here at camp, she couldn’t even text them either.

She sighed, looking past the children and beyond the trees. How was she supposed to survive being here for ten weeks?

#magical girl story #magical girl genre #original story #original fiction

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sturid · 11 months

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ok y’all know that spider oc I made a while ago? I edited him a bit (a lot) and decided to post it so here it is (I cannot draw so it’s just a description)

Name: Adler Lee

Nationality: Australian

Hero name: Agent Spider

Age:28

How long has he been spider-man? 13 years

Dimension: Earth-8121

Friends: Hobie, Spider Noir, Peter B, Jess (kinda), Gwen, Pav and pretty much the rest of the main cast.

Enjoys: Cooking, writing, photography, boxing, watching movies, reading, video production and sewing

Normal job: Film crew and part time bartender

Fun facts he has SPD (sensory processing disorder) and sometimes is out wearing headphones and sunglasses. He also might suddenly shut down due to it.

He also has dyspraxia but he learned how to do things in a way where he won’t get killed while being spider-man (the spider senses helped him a lot)

Another fun fact he can play the guitar and saxophone

Uranic (only attracted to men/masc presenting non binary people) and ftm trans.

Normal outfit:

Black loose fitting shorts with big pockets. (tight at waist, loose everywhere else. Looks like a trapezoid)

A thin green-brown checkered button down

maybe a white shirt under if he’s feeling sophisticated

all white baseball cap (backwards always)

dirty old converse

a bandaid on his nose and on his cheek (somehow always getting cuts there)

those 3d glasses from the movie theater (he loves them)

headphones around neck

Spider suit:

White to dark purple fade

hood

white lines all over

purple lines on the hood

triangle patters at the legs

sleeveless

blue gloves

tinted eyeholes for SPD

microphones so he can hear better (helping for dyspraxia)

physical description:

poofy light brown hair

brown skin

prosthetic left arm (i’ll get into it later

green eyes

buff

6 foot 4

thick accent (he also swears a lot and uses a bunch of Australian slang)

prosthetic arm

Good traits:

confident

respectful

Charming (ish)

easygoing

realist

stable

funny

witty

bold

flexible

cool older brother energy

neutral qualities

impulsive

stubborn

SWEARING :0

carefree

somewhat secretive

all over the place

messy

sneaky

bad qualities:

brutally honest

overly sarcastic

VERY blunt

harsh (if he doesn’t like you)

Protective

unpredictable

cunning when he wants to be

unruly

careless

habits

always rubbing shirt

cracks knuckles when nervous

rocks himself from side to side or back and forth

cannot sit right at all

somehow has everything that everyone needs like you need pads? dude has some of all sizes as well as tampons. Water? BOOM. Cold water bottles. he’s magical

never remembers whatever people say

yet he somehow remembers people’s habits and schedules

speaking of schedules he never follows one unless he feels like it or it’s his normal job

other things:

(plot hole) he either lost his right arm due to having Phocomelia syndrome which made his arm completely disappear at birth or he lost his arm while getting slammed into a building by a villain idk which yet

He’s on the olympic team for boxing and he got a few gold medals before

His canon event was his sweet Italian next door neighbor who was basically a father figure to him.

His parents were kinda trash if we’re being honest and were the reason he swears so much (learnt habit from them)

His dad was always away and hardly came home and his mother was an alcoholic, and when his dad came home (for once) they would always argue

He would usually run away to said neighbor that died because they were very comforting and cared for him.

Goes into big brother mode whenever someone younger than him gets hurt because he also had a younger brother that

Gives everyone the most random nicknames

Bro is still shocked about being bit cause DUDE LIVES IN THE AUSTRALIAN VERSION OF NEW YORK. THERE ARE SPIDERS EVERYWHERE. he wasn’t prepared

he lives in a small apartment building with 2 cats that he loves very dearly. There are plants and candles everywhere almost looks like a wild jungle.

he gives out keys to his apartment to other spider people if they need a place to stay

somehow a god at cooking

idk what it is but i have a feeling that if he died he would die from trying to protect jayden/cory or another spider person he cares about a lot from the spot

he prepares for everything when it comes to people visiting so he has a bunch of stim toys for people who need them

he knows how to copy people’s personalities surprisingly well like if he doesn’t like u because you’re cocky or something he’ll act the same way to get on your nerves because he’s petty

his universes art style is similar to super smash bros and if he was introduced to the movie it would be similar to “Agent Spider joins the party!”

bro would probably have a crush on someone in the main group like noir or something but adler would most likely die/get extremely injured before a confession

#across the spider verse #oc #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spidersona #into the spider verse #spiderverse

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starksinthenorth · 3 years

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Musings on ASOIAF Ladies and Ambition

I’ve noticed people use “ambition” to describe Sansa and Daenerys as if it’s a bad word or an insult (often called “power hungry”). Yet in the text of the series, neither of them are shown to be ambitious people as a core characteristic. I blame the series for a lot of this, because it failed to explore the internal dialogue of Sansa, Arya, and even Cersei, who ends up more humanized than either of them by the end (because of the maybe baby).

Cersei Lannister is the classic ambitious ASOIAF lady, whose point-of-view is introduced in perhaps the most iconic sentence of any introductory chapter:

She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all.

I can’t think of a sentence in ASOIAF that better introduces the internal thoughts and view of its leading character.

In comparison, Sansa’s first sentence is receiving news about her father’s whereabouts, Daenerys is shown her new dress to meet Drogo, and Arya has crooked stitches again. Arya’s works to frame her relationship with Sansa and her internal struggle to fit the feminine Westerosi mold, while Sansa and Daenerys are setting up plot points. None of these interactions signal ambition, bad or good. Daenerys did not arrange her wedding, Sansa is just told the information by her Septa, and while Arya is aspiring to have straight stitches, that’s hardly an ambitious goal for a girl of nine.

Fans rarely, if ever, deny Cersei’s cruel, cold, often stupid ambition. In fact, it’s one of the reason people seem to love her. She’s internally open about what she wants - power - and when she wants it - now:

All of them are burning now, she told herself, savoring the thought. They are dead and burning, every one, with all their plots and schemes and betrayals. It is my day now. It is my castle and my kingdom.

- AFFC, Cersei III

The rule was hers; Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. I waited, so can he. I waited half my life. She had played the dutiful daughter, the blushing bride, the pliant wife. She had suffered . . . She had contended with Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and her vile, treacherous, murderous dwarf brother, all the while promising herself that one day it would be her turn. If Margaery Tyrell thinks to cheat me of my hour in the sun, she had bloody well think again.

- AFFC, Cersei V

Cersei is the definition of a power hungry lady, scheming and cheating at every point. Yes, Sansa learned from her, but most of Sansa’s internalized lessons of Cersei’s were to do the exact opposite.

"The night's first traitors," the queen [Cersei] said, "but not the last, I fear. . . . Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. . . . The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy."

"I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.

- ACOK, Sansa VI

Cersei isn’t the only POV character who views herself outside of conventional Westerosi standards and aspires to something beyond being a wife and mother. Arya Stark has ambition writ clear on the page, though it is not so cold or denying other people their rights or chances. Compared to Cersei, Arya doesn’t want everything, crown and throne and kingdom and all. She just wants something, and even that is denied to highborn women in Westeros. Even when she asks her father about her future, a man who wants to do right by his children and loves them, Eddard Stark is blinded by Westerosi patriarchy:

Arya cocked her head to one side. "Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?"

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon."

- AGOT, Eddard V

With Arya in this, I see some parallels to Elaena Targaryen, who was so good at math and management she served as the secret Master of Coin while her husband carried the title. Elaena was “more willful than Rhaena, but not as beautiful as either of her sisters,” yet is also said to have been “more beautiful at age seventy than at age seventeen,” growing into herself like Arya is expected to. They both even cut their hair, Arya to hide her gender and Elaena to hide her beauty, both instances to gain freedom from captivity in the Red Keep.

Despite both these examples of ambition - Cersei’s all-encompassing, without care for how it affects the realm, and Arya’s attempt to find a place in the world outside the Westerosi model - it still becomes an insult when people speak of Daenerys and Sansa.

Critics claim Sansa is ambitious, and negatively so, because she “wants to be queen.” But this criticism misses a vital point of Sansa’s character. Unlike Cersei, she does not want to be queen because of the power and political influence, but because she will be living a song. In the start, Sansa’s got her head in the clouds, not to the dirty world of politics. Her very first chapter lays out this motivation incredibly clearly:

All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs.

When she thinks of Joffrey and being in love with him, it’s because he’s “handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs” (AGOT, Sansa II),

Alternatively, it has been said that Sansa is ambitious because of her claim to Winterfell. But compare how Sansa thinks of her claim to how Big Walder Frey does. Despite being far down the inheritance line, he is certain he will someday possess the Twins. He’s likely willing to kill his family to become Lord of the Crossing, and already has killed Little Walder.

In comparison, Sansa isn’t the one who realizes her claim as heir to Winterfell, even after her two younger brothers are believed dead. It’s Dontos who mentions it, and after she still thinks that Robb will have sons to inherit.

But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

- ASOS, Sansa II

Sansa’s not ready to kill Bran and Rickon if they show up. Her arc is about taking off the rose-tinted glasses and seeing reality, but also working to make reality like a song. For example, her idea of the Tournament of the Winged Knights for Sweetrobin. It’s a song come to life, all by her making. TBD how the ending goes, of course, but it shows that trajectory.

And finally, Daenerys.

Daenerys is not driven by some lifelong desire to win and dominate. She’s forced into it, a la Brienne’s “no chance and no choice.” If Daenerys were raised in a stable environment, I have a feeling she’d be much more like Sansa: dreamy, hopeful, sweet and studious. Happy.

But instead, her eyes are open.

When she’s introduced as a character, she shows an awareness for the schemes and politics of the world. She knows her brother is called the Beggar King in the Free Cities, and is doubtful of the smallfolk’s secret toasts to Viserys III that Illyrio Mopatis claims happen across Westeros.

Like Sansa and Cersei, there’s evidence of her goals, hopes, and wishes in the very first chapter:

"I don't want to be his queen," she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home."

. . .

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio's estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him.

Daenerys remembers home as the house with the red door in Braavos. It’s her brother whose only home and stability was the Red Keep, not her.

Throughout her journey of power to take back the Seven Kingdoms, she is doubtful at every turn and most of her wishes are for happiness, for peace, for stability.

Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

- ACOK, Daenerys II

A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?

- ADWD, Daenerys II

Even later, Daenerys is determined to bring peace to the lands she currently rules. She does plan to return to the Seven Kingdoms, but it’s not driven by pure ambition. And this is, notably, from a conversation when Prince Quentyn Nymeros Martell asks her to come back and claim them now, saying she has allies for that conquest. And still she turns him down, with promises that it will only happen eventually:

"Daenerys said. ". . . .One day I shall return to Westeros to claim my father's throne, and look to Dorne for help. But on this day the Yunkai'i have my city ringed in steel. I may die before I see my Seven Kingdoms. Hizdahr may die. Westeros may be swallowed by the waves."

- ADWD, Daenerys VII

And yet in both Sansa and Daenerys, these visions and hopes for the futures they might have are considered unbridled ambition, although they turn more on happiness and peace for themselves and their people, rather than the type of ambition Cersei has, which is clearly her own power and being heralded above everyone.

Daenerys’ thoughts in her sixth chapter of ADWD have the same energy as Sansa’s “I will make them love me.”:

"A queen must know the sufferings of her people."

. . .

A queen must listen to her people, Dany reminded herself.

Daenerys has figured out how to make her people love her, by wearing her “floppy ears” and appealing to the masses, listening to them, et cetera. She’s also a bit ahead of Sansa in the realm of ruling, to be sure.

But how are these similar thoughts ambition in either of them? It’s an attempt to empathize and connect, not to throw away and disregard and rule by force and domination. Both these ladies are more nuanced, and the fandom does them a disservice by painting them as ambitious or power-hungry when at the end for both of them, it’s a desire to have a happy, stable, loving life.

#asoiaf meta #sansa stark #daenerys targaryen #cersei lannister #arya stark

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ashayatreldai · 3 years

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His Face - Fic

Find this on AO3 or read it here.

Among Su She’s effects is found a bundle of sketches of Hanguang Jun, which inspires a lifetime of exchanges between Wei Wuxian and his husband.

***

Wei Wuxian yawned, barely remembering to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. It wasn’t as though Lan Wangji minded; he still marveled at his husband’s calm acceptance of his less than perfect behavior. And it wasn’t as if he were really tired. They’d been back in Cloud Recesses only a handful of days and most of that time Wei Wuxian had been able to rest, to wander the back hill, to play with the rabbits, to tease Sizhui and Jingyi, to play Chenqing to the birds and the rainbows the sun cast in the light mists of Gusu’s waterfalls. No, he supposed. He yawned because he was warm, well-fed, secure and safe, and in the best company a person could desire, let alone have all to himself.

Lan Wangji sat on the other side of the desk, and in spite of the hour was still working through the backlog of mail which had accumulated in his absence.

“What’s this?” A bundle of papers caught Wei Wuxian’s eye, and on impulse he reached and drew them out of the stack.

Lan Wangji looked up. “After the events at Gyanyin Temple, members of the Lan Clan disposed of the bodies, sealed the coffin in which Red Blade Master and Jin Guangyao are buried, and otherwise put the site in order. Among these activities, Su She’s body was searched and his personal effects catalogued. A quiankun pouch was found, containing an assortment of items. This bundle of papers was also in the pouch. I assume it was forwarded to me because I am the subject.”

Wei Wuxian leafed through the pages. It was a collection of sketches in a variety of media, all of Hanguang Jun’s face, mostly sketches of his eyes. They weren’t half bad: the artist had captured the micro-expressions which concealed everything but hid nothing of Hanguang Jun’s thoughts. But as he examined the pile, he experienced an increasing sensation of wrongness.

“I wonder what he was trying to capture. I mean, here’s ice, here’s anger. I think this one is arrogance or being haughty; and this one has to be indifference. And this,” he huffed out with a half smile, “has got to be ‘you are the scum beneath my shoe’.” That was a micro-expression Wei Wuxian had seen often on Lan Wangji’s face when they were young, as he kept poking and prodding until the carefully cultivated mask his friend wore finally slipped. He spread out the pictures, his eyes searching for the clues he knew he’d find. “Why would he want to draw these things and exclude others? I know a lot of people are afraid of you, Lan Zhan, because you look cold and imperturbable. But anyone who knows you and watches closely can see that there’s so much more to you than that.”

“Su She was cast out of the Lan Clan because he betrayed our secrets to Wen Xu. He was known for being desirous of imitating me – poorly. We can only speculate as to his motivations otherwise,” Lan Wangji commented quietly.

“Mmmm,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “He hated you, but he also idolized you. Who’s to say what came first? Whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “The fact he captured your eyes with these strong antagonistic expressions suggests he hated himself, and perhaps wanted to make you the one who hated him in his own mind. It’s easier to hate someone than to live with the pain of feeling rejected or not even noticed.”

“I never hated Su She.”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever known you to hate anyone, Hanguang Jun.” Wei Wuxian felt a surge of protective affection for this dear man. “Not even those who deserve it. Su She unfairly judged you and didn’t know you at all. Still, when you think about what people say about me, the scary deranged Yiling Patriarch, anything’s possible in terms of what people do to themselves to justify hatred. Blargh!” He made claws with his hands and pulled a terrifying crazy Yiling Laozu face.

“Wei Ying.” There was amusement dancing in Lan Wangji’s eyes. “You do not scare me.”

Sometimes Lan Wangji could abruptly light a fuse in Wei Wuxian and leave him smoking. He laughed and crawled around to Lan Wangji’s side of the table, climbing into his lap to sit with one leg either side of Lan Wangji’s waist. His husband’s hands came up to support his lower back. He put both hands loosely around Lan Wangji’s neck.

Lan Wangi had removed his silver coronet and tendrils of hair that usually were wound up to hold the headpiece in place trailed either side of his face, making him look softer and younger and so much more vulnerable.

For some time they sat simply looking at each other. Wei Wuxian took in the flawless face, reaching one hand to trace Lan Wangi’s eyebrow, feeling the soft hairs brush beneath his fingerpads. He gently followed the line of an eyelash, delighting in the butterfly kiss as his husband blinked. Out over the swell of zygomatic bone, cupping around his perfectly shaped ear – he really was like exquisitely carved jade, warm, living, and here. He cupped Lan Wangji’s cheek, his thumb finding the hollow between nose and lip and the soft breath of life it held. And those lips, now quirked in a loving bow.

He pulled himself up to kiss the forehead ribbon, to plant gentle brushes of his lips over all the places he’d touched. When he came to Lan Wangji’s mouth, he finally let go, giving all his worship as they joined tongues, teeth, desire, losing themselves in each other.

They released the kiss, and held each other, Wei Wuxian’s head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Between them energy sizzled – it would be sated later, but it was sufficient for now to enjoy the beatitude of the moment, the closeness, words unnecessary to communicate the depth of heart each held for the other.

***

Wei Wuxian was traveling. His absence itched acutely just under Lan Wangji’s skin, a constant worry. He rued the duty which pinned him in his current dual roles: Chief Cultivator and Acting Sect Leader, keeping him grounded at Cloud Recesses instead of off night hunting with his husband.

It was necessary, he knew, for Wei Wuxian to move; the whole man was a study in movement, in ceaseless energy. He knew the staid and stable pattern of life at Cloud Recesses felt like a box to Wei Ying, and while he could endure for a season, he needed more than what life in Gusu offered, even with rabbits and a back hill to wander for hours.

But oh, he missed him. And he worried too: who would defend him when he had so little sense of self-preservation?

This journey, Wei Wuxian had set off to attempt to mend things with Jiang Cheng before making his way up to Lanling to see Jin Ling. One of the highest values for the Lan was family, and Lan Wangji understood the deep need his husband had for those connections – had encouraged it.

It was just as well Wei Wuxian had mastered the butterfly talisman (and enhanced it). Morning and night he would wait for the silvery wings to alight with Wei Wuxian’s messages of love and thought to whisper through his qi. Sometimes they were profound, poetry. Sometimes playful; sometimes just a kiss. Lan Wangji came to depend on those messages, and on being able to send some back himself: I love you, I miss you, come home soon.

He sighed. This morning had grown tedious. Today was the end of the accounting period for Clan matters, and while there was staff to manage the minutiae of bookkeeping, as Acting Clan Leader LanWangji was examining the records before tomorrow’s visit from the auditor. Not for the first time he lamented his brother’s seclusion, necessary though it was. Dealing with finances was the part of the role that least appealed to Lan Wangji; he felt a headache brewing and was contemplating taking a break when there was a knock on the door.

“Hanguang Jun, mail has arrived,” the disciple said, handing him a bundle.

“Thank you. Please ask the kitchen to send me some lunch,” he requested, taking the pile.

The disciple departed, and he began to sort the items: those about Clan matters, those for the Chief Cultivator. One letter stood out, a simple scroll tied with a red thread. Putting all the other mail aside he carefully opened the scroll and took a breath.

It was an ink painting of his eyes, creased ever so slightly in an expression of amusement. On his brow the forehead ribbon glinted silver, his hair loosely framing his cheeks. He instantly recognized the artist, tracing a finger over the brush strokes as if that touch could unite him with the hand that had made them.

“Wei Ying,” he said, infinite fondness filling him.

Throughout the rest of the day he kept the picture on his desk, glancing at it from time to time. And when it was time to turn his attention to other things, he gently placed the picture in his sleeve to take back to the jingshi.

Every couple of days another picture would arrive. This too became something Lan Wangji expected, an important and significant marker in his day, each picture a symbol that he was one day closer to seeing, holding, touching, tasting Wei Wuxian again.

***

300 years later

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao had come to the Forbidden Room in the Library Pavilion seeking a book she’d known had been here years earlier. Back then she’d been a mischievous girl seeking a way to prank Shufu, and she vividly remembered the green cover. Lan filing methods hadn’t changed in hundreds of years, so that wretched book had to be here somewhere.

She moved a pile of dusty scrolls, cursing under her breath when she knocked a stack of bamboo books which went tumbling over the floor. Patience, she told herself strictly. Breathe and control.

Feeling a little more composed, she bent to restore the mess to order. A red cover caught her eye on one of the lower shelves. She’d not seen that before, and she was sure she’d have recognized it if she had. It was quite distinct, a deep red, tied shut with of all things a Clan ribbon.

Intrigued, she opened the volume, carefully untying the ribbon and leafing through the pages. Page after page were pictures of a handsome man’s eyes: crinkled in delight, weeping with sorrow, dancing with affection, on and on they went. Sometimes the whole of the man’s lovely face was shown: in some he wore the elaborate silver coronet her ancestors had favored, in others his long tresses floated around his face, and the artist had clearly captured a treasured, private, and vulnerable moment.

Around half way through the volume the pictures changed: a spritely young man in black, his underrobe a vivid red (the same colour as the cover of the book, as it happened – and she wondered whether it was indeed cut from the same cloth), a red ribbon in his hair, holding a black dizi. This array of pictures had a different hand, a more understated eye which captured the young man’s energetic aura, as well as pensive moments – the youth had clearly been to hell and back, and Lan Shuoxiao could almost feel the immense love with which the person who’d drawn these pictures had made each stroke.

There were so many! Page sized varied: a compendium gathered together of odd scraps. The last page bore an inscription:

In loving memory of my parents, Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang Jun, and Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, Yiling Laozu. The true faces of both, in their own hands. Love letters sent to dearest him who was, alas, away. Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui, Chief Cultivator.

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. Clan records declared Hanguang Jun’s partner’s name to have been Lan Ying, Lan Wuxian. How had they never made the connection before that “Lan Wuxian” was in fact the infamous Yiling Patriarch? Given that the two had Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui’s name inscribed under theirs as offspring, Lan Shuoxiao and many others had assumed Lan Wuxian to be female.

She looked closely again at one of the pictures of the young man in black and red. He didn’t look like the evil dictator of legend. He looked mischievous and full of life, an impression caught in the laughing smile, and so… youthful.

Not that demonic cultivation was these days the issue it had been for her ancestors; these days cultivation was emphasized to be about harnessing the yin of negative energy and the yang of positive energy, holding them in balance and using each appropriately. She doubted the people who had so feared and hated the Yiling Patriarch would be able to recognize as righteous the way all cultivators now practiced as a matter of course.

As for Hanguang Jun… She flicked back to a picture in which his whole upper body had been captured as he played guqin, a study of someone completely caught up and focused on the music, almost in ecstasy. Another private moment revealing something about the essence of the man. He was so beautiful, captivating. And such a contrast from all the other images she’d ever seen of him. Hanguang Jun had a reputation even now, 150 years after he had Ascended, for being cold, somewhat forbidding, distant, just, merciful and benevolent, untouchable, unrivalled in almost all fields. That was how he appeared at the Gate of Gusu, carved of jade, opposite his brother, Zewu Jun, the famous Twin Jades of Gusu Lan now its guardians, their representations inscribed and infused with talismans and ward tethers. Rumor was that no evil could come to Cloud Recesses as long as the Twin Jades stood at the gates. How was anyone to reconcile that formidable image with this? This picture of a very human, vulnerable, gentle man, who was clearly so very much loved by the artist who drew him.

Lan Shuoxiao found herself on the edge of tears. It felt like an injustice, looking at these intimate sketches, that history had forgotten Wei Wuxian as little more than a footnote. And that the righteous Hanguang Jun had been immortalized as a stiff, cold and distant deity rather than someone’s beloved whose heart beat wildly in his chest in longing, and whose blood was warm and red and thrummed with reciprocated affection. She wondered how they had found one another, wondered about the history in which they must have been caught up: how did it affect them? What trials had they passed through before they finally found their way to each other’s arms?

She reverently closed the volume, her original mission in coming here put aside. Thoughtfully, she collected up the scrolls and bamboo books and reordered them, and then closed the Forbidden Room.

***

Several months later a new scene was depicted on the climbing path around the residences of Gusu: a beautiful, crowned Lan sat cross-legged in the back hill meadow, covered in a blanket of rabbits. His loving gaze was fixed on the figure opposite him under a peach tree in full bloom, who was standing and playing a dizi. The legend beneath read: Hanguang Jun and his cultivation partner Yiling Laozu, Lan Wuxian.

FIN

#the untamed #ao3 #mdzs #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #myfic

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angelsxbelle · 3 years

Text

haikyuu boys as your best friend.

part 1!!!

hey guys i thought i’d do some fluffy best friend scenarios since i’ve been feeling a bit down/anxious lately and i thought it would be fun to write something to cheer people up:)

pairings: tendou x reader, komori x reader, kunimi x reader x gn! reader

warnings: extreme fluff, maybe?? swearing

have fun and remember to stay safe on the internet kids :)

tendou, SATORI

now it’s probably obvious that being tendou’s best friend is already going to be one of the best things that could ever happen to you just by looking at him

i mean, mans is a walking ball of crackhead energy

and while being around tendou is a guarantee for having the time of your life, i feel like there’s a lot more to him than a lot of people realize, especially in the way he’d act in a close friendship

he knows what it’s like to feel left out, so he always wants you to feel like you belong somewhere and won’t let you feel alone anywhere

he’s the kind of friend that will facetime you during lunch if he’s sick so you don’t have to sit alone without him

he’s also very attentive and notices small details that other people may look over, he’s always the first person to notice if something’s bugging you or if you’re feeling down about something and he’ll ask if you want to talk about it after school when you’re in private

a very good listener, not the kind of person that will try to shove solutions down your throat, but he’s supportive and will help you try to feel better if you ask him to

also a master at cheering people up after a rough day, you can’t help but burst into giggles whenever he does something stupid to try and get you to smile, he’ll conquer anything that’s making you upset

with him around, you’ll never feel alone or unwanted because you know he’ll always be there no matter what

if you’re clingy or know how to show affection really well through acts of service or words of affirmation, you’ll make a really good pair since he likes to be reassured

will blush if you compliment him or say something you like about him, and he’ll say something nice about you immediately after too

if you give him a friendship bracelet that matches one you made for yourself, he’ll wear it every day no matter how girly or cutesy looking it is

platonic cuddling>>>>>

he also likes it when you’re close to him, even though there’s no romantic feelings attached he’ll hold your hand as you run down the halls when you’re late to your next class together

even if you don’t care for it (why wouldn’t you though),you read shonen jump with him every week while you eat snacks together in his dorm and then talk about it with him afterwards

as for stuff you do for fun together, life with tendou is always a blast

sometimes you go to convenience stores and get slushies and then run to the top of a grassy hill by the parking lot and then just talk for hours and watch the stars

during school, sometimes you guys make up dances or songs and perform them for ushijima and he just stands there like 🧍‍♂️

you guys like to go watch scary movies together at the theater and you always share one of those jumbo popcorn tubs

one time tendou accidentally dropped it on the person that was sitting in front of you’s head and you guys had to just b o o k i t out of there

he always lets you borrow his hoodies if you ask for them since they’re huge on you and he thinks it’s cute

you’re one of the only people besides ushijima that he’s opened up to about his childhood, and if you’ve been bullied too it’ll make you even closer to him since you share it

you make sure he knows how special he is and how much you care about him all the time when he gets insecure

on the last day of high school he tears up while telling you how much you mean to him

you guys stay just as close after high school, calling each other every day

you end up visiting him in france, it’s the best two weeks of your life spent together with him and you eventually end up moving there with him

komori, MOTOYA

as a best friend, komori is the perfect person for someone that wants to have someone that’s caring and stable but also still fun to be around and knows how to lighten up

everyone knows komori is our favorite sweet boy that takes care of his icy cousin but i personally believe he secretly has a mischievous side to him you know???

like he’s still very sweet but he DEF knows how to pull a good prank

the kind of kid that’ll show up on exam day and get straight a’s and then give all of his teachers big thank you gifts but a week later someone will catch him drawing massive unicorns and care bears all over the school grounds with chalk like nothing’s wrong

he would never intentionally cause any actual harm to anyone though, he’s still very respectful and doesn’t want to actually break any school rules because he doesn’t want to get in trouble and make his teachers feel bad :’(

if you forget your lunch he’s the type to split his with you

he’ll also walk you to every class even if he’s all the way across the building bc he’s nice like that :’)))

will totally laugh if you trip over your own feet in the hallway but will always stop and help you up and ask you if you’re okay after

a sweetie, your parents probably love him because whenever he comes over he always asks if he can help with cooking and cleaning and stuff like that

together, you guys like to do stuff like study together as well as do stuff like reading horror mangas together and watching old disney movies

every once and a while he’ll ask you to go for a run with him in the morning if sakusa won’t go with him and he’ll go slow just so you don’t feel like you have to keep up with him bc he doesn’t want to wear you out right before school

he likes that you know you can find stability in him, you know he’ll always be by your side no matter what’s happening outside your friendship

also loves it when you come to his games, you yell at him from the stands really loud and he’ll wave back from the court and smile really big up at you as sakusa grumbles next to him :’)

even though your relationship is lighthearted, you can still come to him with whatever issues you’ve been going through and he’ll listen as best as he can, he’ll even open up to you as well and be vulnerable about whatever he’s struggled with in the past too

if you guys didn’t wear school uniforms, he would 100% match outfits with you no matter what your style is like

like tendou, he’ll also really appreciate it if you make him a friendship bracelet to wear and he won’t want to take it off

the day you graduate, he probably cries because he’ll miss you so much if you end up going to different universities

he doesn’t really have a hard time admitting it, but you really do mean a lot to him

even after high school, you guys still stay in touch and visit each other as often as you can, with you eventually moving back to your hometown so you’ll see each other often again and you end up staying close

you’re probably the closest friendship he’s ever had :’)

kunimi, AKIRA

token lazy best friend ™

while he has a laid back attitude, kunimi still cares very much about your friendship believe it or not

he’s very nonchalant about it, but would still die for you 100% if things came to that

as seen with his friendship with kindaichi, despite being a very chill person kunimi is still attentive to other people’s feelings and will notice if something’s wrong with you or if something’s upset you

if you’re feeing insecure or upset he won’t hesitate to reassure you, even though he has a hard time opening up he’ll still remind you how he feels about you and how much he cares about you

he’s definitely not overly sappy about it though, he just kind of says what he thinks and moves on

in school, people are probably intimidated by you because you’re so quiet around others plus mans is like 6ft tall-

speaking of 6ft tall, if some guys are creeping you out or making you uncomfortable he’ll intervene and scare them so you have a chance to slip away while he makes them question their life existence

not to mention if anybody ever tries to pick on you, he’ll say something simple but so rude they’ll be so taken aback they just end up leaving you alone in shock

the silent but protective type of best friend

also even though he acts indifferent towards most things, if you show him something you’re really excited about he’ll still make an effort not to seem like he doesn’t care or blow you off

for hanging out, he’s definitely more of a simple kind of guy, he just likes to go over to your house and talk or read/ study or watch tv with you, he just enjoys the quality time

also, he secretly enjoys it when you play with his hair like he doesn’t show too much emotion but a little blush creeps up his cheeks and his eyes squint a tiny bit

and if he trusts you a lot, he’ll open up about his past and his experiences in middle school or anything that had hurt him in the past

it makes him feel safe when he knows you’re just there to listen to him and help him feel better whenever he’s feeling down or something’s been bothering him

he’s hasn’t told you yet, but kindaichi probably likes you but he’s to shy to say anything to you about it

he’s perfectly content with having you all to himself for the time being

on the weekends you always go over to his house to watch horror movies and have a sleepover after, it’s hilarious because he makes the same cold expression at the screen the entire time

but if you get scared, he’ll squeeze your hand and tell you not to be afraid

if you need to keep a nightlight on when you’re trying to fall asleep he doesn’t care, he just doesn’t want you to feel scared

he doesn’t say it a lot, but he really does care about you

he’s uncharacteristically sad the day you graduate and hates to see you go, he doesn’t want it to end

hugs you tight and drives you home after your promotion ceremony and you stay over at his house like old times

you, him, and kindaichi still stay close in university and get together whenever you can:)

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smaidjor · 3 years

Text

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 3)

Hey everyone and welcome to the third and likely final chapter of this saga! When I was writing this, I told my friends it might end up the shortest chapter.

Spoiler alert: it was not, in fact, the shortest chapter.

Anyways, thank you guys for sticking with me through this insane journey of angst writing! The story doesn't end here, but the fic does because I think I'm going to be switching how I write it a little bit. You'll see if I ever get the energy to write the continuation.

(Also, I've stopped putting AO3 links in the actual post because then it doesn't show up in the tag.)

Anyways, enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Title: to turn at last to paths that lead home

Chapter Wordcount: 4686

Content warnings: mentions of death, violence, blood, mild injury, religion, self-esteem issues. There is also something that could be considered similar to deadnaming, though the character is not necessarily trans, so read with caution if that could be triggering to you.

Actual fic under the cut:

That night, Scott dreams he’s a child again, playing amongst the peaks with Xornoth by his side. They laugh as they dart out of his reach, and he jumps over a rock to try and catch them.

“Too slow,” Xornoth snickers, and Scott glares at them.

“Someday I’ll be ten times as fast as you, and stronger too!”

They laugh again and tackle him into the grass, forceful enough to push him down but not enough to really hurt. “Alright, little bro.”

“You’re only older by seven minutes!”

“Seven minutes, more like seven times cooler than you!”

Scott reaches up and tickles them, grinning wickedly as they yelp and roll off him.

The scene shifts, and this time it’s a teenaged Xornoth laying on the hill beside him, staring up at the sky.

“Hey, Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“If anything ever happens to me-”

“It won’t,” Scott interrupts, heart in his throat. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“It could-”

“No.”

They sigh. “Alright. But if it ever does, I need you to promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to promise that you’ll take care of Rivendell.”

Scott glares at them. “Rivendell hates me. Don’t ask-”

“Please. Scott, please just promise me this one thing.” Their face is deathly serious. “I don’t- nothing’s going to happen to me, but I need to know that Rivendell will be safe if anything does.”

"But-"

"Please, Scott. I know you would do brilliant at it, and I need the guarantee.

He sighs but ultimately gives in. “I wouldn't, but fine. I promise.”

Xornoth nods, seemingly satisfied. “You’re leaving tonight, right?”

“I am.”

“Then take this.” They roll over and press something into his hand. “You’ll need it.”

Scott looks down to see Vilya, the silver band gleaming in the sunlight. “Xor, you can’t give me this. This is-”

“I know perfectly well what it is, little bro.” He looks up to find them smiling sadly. “And I know you’ll need it. Now better wake up, your husband’s calling.”

“My wha-”

Scott’s plunged back into awareness to the sound of Jimmy calling his name.

“Scott? Please?” He sounds shaken, but it barely registers in Scott’s sleepy brain.

Scott rolls over and blinks his eyes open to see Jimmy watching him with concern. “Five more minutes, darling.”

“I think something’s wrong,” Jimmy says, urgent. “It feels wrong. Really wrong.”

That wakes Scott up, alright, the fear in his husband’s voice sending a spike of worry through him as he sits up. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s alright, go back to sleep.”

“No, no, I trust your gut.” He trusts Jimmy more than anything else, really, which is why he gets up and out of bed. “Let’s go look, and if it’s nothing then I’ll sleep more, okay?”

Jimmy nods, hurrying after him. “I have a really terrible feeling, Scott. Be careful, please.”

“I should be telling that to you,” Scott teases.

“Hey, I’ve gotten more careful!”

Scott can’t help but laugh at how offended his husband sounds, but his mirth dies as quickly as it came. “You’re right, Jimmy. Something isn’t right.” It’s making the hairs on his arm stand up, a prickling unease similar to what he felt before the battle where Jimmy died.

“I know, it feels awful!”

“Mhm.” Scott grabs his favorite axe, glancing back at Jimmy one more time. “Stay behind me, just in case.”

He swings the door open. It takes a moment to spot what’s wrong, but once he does, his heart plummets; Xornoth is standing across the valley next to his enchanting tower, their face and body twisted with corruption but still unmistakably Scott’s sibling.

“That’s the demon!” Jimmy hisses. He sounds terrified, and Scott can’t blame him, much as it feels like a punch to the gut to know that his sibling is the one who’s been harassing his husband.

Scott grits his teeth. Protect Rivendell, that’s what he promised Xornoth all those years ago. “That?”

“Yes!”

“Right. Okay.” He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “Jimmy, I need you to listen to exactly what I say right now. If I say get down, you get down. If I say run, you run and don’t look back no matter what you hear. Can you do that?”

Jimmy’s response comes a second later. “I trust you. If you say run, I’ll run.” The pure faith in the words is enough to make Scott’s throat close up for a moment, choked with sudden emotion at the level of trust Jimmy’s showing him even after everything that happened.

He shoves that feeling down. “Alright. Give me your engagement ring.”

“Wh-”

“Trust me. Please.” Scott’s nearly begging, voice cracking a bit on the last word. Jimmy must hear how weak he sounds, because he gives in without question, handing over Vilya.

Scott slides it onto his finger, hands trembling just a bit as he does. He remembers being given this ring, being just as terrified by how much Xornoth trusted him then as he is by how much Jimmy trusts him now. Ironic, really, that now he’ll be using this ring against the person who gave it to him to begin with. “Okay, Jimmy. I’m about to go out the front door, and when I do, I need you to go out the side door over there and run for the stables. When you get there, roll in the mud and then run for the village. Speed over stealth, corrupted elves track by smell and sound rather than sight.” He keeps the instructions quick and clear, praying that Jimmy’s not stubborn enough to disobey. He can’t lose Jimmy, he can’t.

Thank god, Jimmy nods.

Scott takes another deep breath, brain awhirl as he tries to figure out how he’s going to keep both Jimmy and Rivendell safe. “From there, I need you to track down an elf called Gilnar and tell them to lock down the kingdom and warn everyone of the danger.” After a moment's thought, he adds “I also need you to tell them that Lord Smajor orders them to protect you.” Gilnar’s trustworthy, they’ll look after Jimmy.

“What about you?” Jimmy asks. “Will you be okay?”

His heart aches at the concern, and it aches more when he opens his mouth to lie. “I will, I promise.” He doesn’t meet Jimmy’s eyes, knowing he’ll break if he does.

Thankfully, Jimmy says nothing about it, instead reaching for one of the spare swords. Good, good, he can protect himself.

“Ready?” Scott asks.

“Ready,” Jimmy confirms, though his voice trembles.

Scott shoves down the part of him that screams that this wasn’t supposed to be his responsibility, that he should just run while he can. He made a promise to his sibling all those years ago, and he’s going to keep it even if it’s now them that he has to defend Rivendell from.

He steps out the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jimmy bolt for the stables, but the greater part of his attention is focused on Xornoth, still floating ominously across the valley.

“You do not belong here,” Scott calls out in Sindarin. It’s a challenge more than anything, practically asking them to come fight him.

He knows he’s messing with forces he doesn’t understand and cannot win against, knows it as surely as he knows his own name. Xornoth has always been faster and stronger, after all, ever since they were children.

And yet-

And yet he has to try regardless. After all, when they were children, Scott always tried to win anyways, even if it never worked. And now, the weight of an empire resting on his shoulders and his husband somewhere in the village behind him, the stakes are higher than just his pride. So he squares his shoulders and doesn’t back down as Xornoth appears in front of him with a ripple of smoke, a cruel smirk on their face.

“Well, well, well, dear brother. Never thought it’d come to this.”

“Neither did I,” Scott retorts.

They grin again. “I belong here just as much as you, you know.”

He raises his axe, gritting his teeth. “You did once, but not anymore.”

Xornoth laughs as they dart out of the way of his blows, tendrils of corruption curling around them and reaching for him. “I belong here more than you ever will.”

He stumbles back, trying to get out of their reach. “That’s not true either.”

“Oh, but it is. I thought you’d be too much of a coward to ever face me, you know. Spineless little Scott, running away from his problems like you ran away from our family.”

“We had no family left! It was just you and me!”

“And you left me to be consumed by my own greed and despair. The sibling you know died years ago and it’s all because you’re a coward.”

Scott flinches, barely bringing his axe up in time to block their next strike. “That’s not- that wasn't my fault! I didn't mean for that to happen."

“Do you really think that? Are you really foolish enough to think that you didn’t hurt me by leaving?” Xornoth’s grin is razor-sharp.

“You told me to leave if it would make me happier,” Scott cries, lapsing back into English without thinking about it.

“You shouldn’t have wanted to leave in the first place. No real elven ruler would want to leave the oldest sanctuary of the elves.”

They have him backing up again and again, barely holding them off. “I tried- I was-”

“Look at you, an elf speaking a human language,” Xornoth hisses. “How did you ever think you were going to be good enough for them? You’re never going to be the real king of Rivendell, Elinar.”

“Don’t- don’t call me that,” Scott pants.

“Elinar,” they taunt again. “Stupid, stupid Elinar. Weak, pathetic little Elinar.”

Scott stumbles backward, landing on his butt in the grass as Xornoth towers over him. His axe falls to the side, snatched by a tendril of corruption as they reach out, digging their claws into his shoulders and pushing him down. Scott’s helpless to do anything when those same tendrils reach for him, the smell of rot permeating the air. They hesitate for a moment, hovering above him, and then Xornoth grins sadistically and the corruption snatches him.

It hurts. It hurts more than any pain he’s ever felt. More than Etho’s arrow in his throat, more than Martyn’s arrow to the chest, more than Ren’s sword through his back. More than even waking up back in Rivendell. The corruption wraps itself around his throat and wrists, pinning him to the ground as his older sibling grins. Scott distantly registers that he’s screaming, writhing as he tries to get out of their hold, but everything’s fuzzy with his brain clouded by pain. He doesn’t want to die, not like this. Anything but this.

There’s a faint, familiar voice in the distance, though Scott can’t focus on what it’s saying through the haze of pain. It sounds comforting, though, and he clings to the noise like a lifeline.

All of the sudden, the pain stops and the corruption draws back slightly as Xornoth turns away.

“What did you say to me?” they hiss, in English this time.

“I said you’re ugly!” The same voice calls, and this time Scott recognizes it as Jimmy. Oh, god, Jimmy. “And you suck! Leave my husband alone!”

Xornoth loosens their hold on Scott’s shoulders, turning towards wherever Jimmy is, and Scott’s gets a rush of determination. He can’t let them hurt Jimmy.

Scott backhands them across the face, kicking his way free of their hold with strength he didn’t know he still had. They give a tiny yelp of surprise, a familiar sound, and he staggers to his feet.

This time, he doesn’t bother with the axe. Instead, he forces his will into Vilya, praying to any and every god that it will work for him. He doesn’t even believe in the elven gods any longer, and yet he’s still praying to Aeor, to Varda, to Manwe, to any deity out there that he’s enough of a true elvenking to make a ring of power bend to his will.

“You are not welcome here!” Scott shouts, and he feels the ancient strength of Vilya behind his words.

Xornoth hisses, staggering backwards. “Fine! Banish me, then, if you’re a true enough king to do it. Run back to your mortal lover, Elinar, and pray to all the gods that he doesn’t ever see how worthless you really are.”

He doesn’t flinch, though it’s a close thing. “Leave! Leave and never return!”

This time, Vilya pulses more strongly, and Xornoth is forced out of Rivendell with a hum of power.

Scott stumbles as that rush of power leaves him, collapsing to the ground. His entire body aches from the fight, but more than that, Xornoth’s last words are still ringing in his mind. Pray to all the gods that he doesn’t ever see how worthless you really are. They’re right. He knows they’re right, and that’s the worst part about it.

“Scott! Scott!” He can hear Jimmy call, and within a minute, Jimmy’s standing in front of him.

Scott looks up at his husband- his beautiful, brave husband who he’s never once deserved- his breathing ragged as he tries to reach out. “Jimmy,” He manages, a hoarse whisper.

Jimmy kneels by him, concern written across his face clear as day. “What’s wrong? Where- what’s hurt? I’ll fix it, I promise, I-” Scott grabs him and yanks him into a hug, hardly daring to believe he’s real.

“Oh,” Jimmy says, quiet, dumbstruck. He hugs Scott oh-so-gently, though his embrace isn’t enough to soothe Scott’s trembling. “It’s alright, Scott, we’re alright.”

“Jimmy,” Scott gasps. He needs his husband, needs him to be okay. “Jimmy, I can’t.”

“I-”

“I want it to be over.” It sounds so childish, but he’s so tired. “I don’t want elves or nations or politics. I just want you.”

“I know, I know,” Jimmy soothes.

‘Why does it have to be me? It wasn’t supposed to be! It wasn’t supposed to be me!” Scott wants to shout it, scream it to the world, because it’s not fair. He wasn’t supposed to be heir to Rivendell. He wasn’t supposed to have a ring of power. He wasn’t supposed to be forced to fight his own sibling. It’s not fair, but it happened anyways. It happened anyways, and that’s what breaks him, voice cracking as he begs for something, though he doesn’t even know what he wants at this point. Peace, maybe. Happiness. “I- please- shouldn’t have- Jimmy. Jimmy .”

He repeats Jimmy’s name over and over, searching for any small scrap of comfort as his sobs tear him to pieces, clutched in his husband’s arms on the grass. Jimmy’s so gentle with him, his embrace so kind as he presses soft kisses to Scott’s head and murmurs in a comforting tone, though Scott’s too far lost in his own head to hear any of what Jimmy says. His world narrows to warm arms around him, the texture of Jimmy’s shirt clutched between his fingers. Jimmy smells like dirt and swamp water- it’s the silliest thing to notice when Scott’s busy sobbing over having to fight his own sibling, but it’s easier to think about than anything else. It’s easier to think about Jimmy than anything else, really, easier to cling to the sound of his voice and his hand on Scott’s back than confront the way Scott’s grief is eating him alive.

Distantly, he can hear footsteps approaching. They’re too light to be anything but elven, not that that’s a surprise when they’re in the home of the elves. He can’t bring himself to lift his head and face them, not when his breath is still coming quick and ragged.

Gilnar’s first to speak, hesitant concen leaking into their words. “Uh, milord?”

Scott can feel Jimmy’s grip tighten protectively, can practically imagine his affronted look as he opens his mouth to snap back. “Give him a goddamn minute! He just fought a demon for all of you, let the man rest! I know you’re all elves and you’re all- all elegant and composed or whatever, but you can’t expect someone to be perfect! We’re all human, you know!” He winces a little, knowing the elves are going to tear Jimmy to shreds for that.

Indeed, one of his advisors speaks up, disdain clear in their tone. “You are human, Codfather. We are not. Lord Smajor knew the responsibilities and difficulties of ruling.”

It’s ever the way of elven royalty- their rulers cannot dare be flawed.

“He’s too young for this,” Someone else mutters. There’s as much pity in their tone as there is disdain, a strange mix of concern and derision.

“I- well I don’t think anyone could have expected a demon! And probably even less people’d be willing to fight one!” Jimmy’s voice rises with every sentence. Scott wants to tell him to spare the outrage- he’s not worth it. “Scott’s one of the bravest, kindest, smartest people I know, so lay off him, will you?”

“You know nothing of the affairs of elves,” his advisor sniffs, and Scott’s blood boils at how rude they’re being to Jimmy.

It’s that outrage that gives him the energy to raise his head, forcing his breathing to steady out. “It’s fine, Jimmy. They are correct, I do have responsibilities.” You shouldn’t be defending me, he doesn’t say. I’m not worth your outrage.

“They can’t expect you to be perfect,” Jimmy argues back.

Scott almost laughs, knowing full well that they can and should. Instead, though, he breaks free of Jimmy’s embrace and gets to his feet with far more effort than that should really take. “Gilnar, get the village out of lockdown and make sure people are aware of the threat of Xornoth. Celebear, search the library for any books on corruption of elves, and Lauriel, translate any you find that are not Sindarin into it. Elder council, I need research done on any rings of power that are strong enough to counteract Vilya to that degree, that will narrow down what Xornoth has.” His voice comes out hoarse, and he’s barely aware of what he’s saying, but he forces himself to carry on. “Now, the Codfather and I need to negotiate wool and fish trades,” Scott adds, the quickest excuse he can think of. He grabs Jimmy’s hand, dragging him away as quickly as he can manage, and ignores the stares that follow him.

They make it up the hill and into Scott’s house before Scott’s legs give out, sending him into a chair with an undignified thump. “Well, fuck me to the End and back.”

“Are they always like that?” Jimmy sounds more concerned than anything.

“Pretty much. Gilnar’s okay, just tough as shit, and so are Celebear and Lauriel, but...I wasn’t- well, I wasn’t meant to inherit Rivendell, and the Council of Elders takes every opportunity to remind me of that fact.” That’s just how it is- he doesn’t bother getting upset over it at this point. He’s always going to be second-best.

“Oh.” Jimmy hesitates, and then asks “Who’s Xornoth?”

Scott would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified of Jimmy’s reaction, but he has nothing left to lose, so he laughs bitterly and answers honestly. “My twin, also known as the demon that’s been terrorizing you.”

“What?”

“My twin. My older sibling.” He gives another little laugh. “The person who was supposed to inherit the throne of the elves.” Who was better than Scott in every way.

“What?” Jimmy sounds shocked and confused, but not angry, not yet, so Scott elaborates.

“Let me start from the beginning. My parents were two elven monarchs, one of the Sindar, and one of the Noldor. With other bloodlines mixed in, but the Sindar and Noldor is the important bit since those two groups haven’t always gotten along. Somewhere around fifty-five years ago, they started trying for kids. What they didn’t expect was that Xornoth and I are identical twins, only the fifth set of elven twins ever recorded.” Old legend says that elven twins are only born in times of great conflict, and Scott can’t exactly say it's wrong.

“Whoa.”

“Mhm. Xornoth was- is- technically the older one, who was always set to inherit the throne of the elves and unite our divided people. They were compared to Elrond, wise and powerful leader of another land named Rivendell far in the past, and I was Elros, his twin. Impulsive, snarky, human.” Scott spits the word a bit like a curse, not because he hates humans, but because he hates himself and all the ways he’s too much like them. He closes his eyes against a fresh set of tears, blinking away the memory of Xornoth’s face when he left Rivendell. “Our parents died when we were both quite young, and we were brought up expecting Xornoth to take the throne as soon as they came of age. I spent my time hanging out with mortals, instead, getting involved in things like mcc and 3rd life.”

“Ohhh,” Jimmy says intelligently. It’s such a Jimmy way to react to something so serious, Scott might laugh if the mood were lighter.

“When I was the elven equivalent of seventeen or so, Xornoth gave me a ring. This ring, specifically.” Scott taps the ring that’s still resting on his middle finger, feeling it hum in return. “Vilya, an elven ring of power. They told me to leave Rivendell and not return.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know at the time, but they were being corrupted by a ring of their own, not to mention their own desire for power.” Scott feels Jimmy take his hand, and looks up to see gentle concern written across his husband’s face. He has to blink again, turning away and forcing his voice to stay steady. “I returned after coming of age while away to find that Xornoth had fled and I was now the heir of Rivendell. Which absolutely no one wanted.”

“Why not? You’re amazing!” Jimmy protests. He sounds so very sincere about it, which makes it all the more heartbreaking how utterly wrong he is.

“Remember when I told you that I’m not a very elven elf? That. I’m too human for their tastes, spend too much of my time with humans.”

“Well, I think you’re wonderful.”

Scott squeezes his hand tight, letting a little of his fondness show. “Thank you, Jimmy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Something like confusion flashes across Jimmy’s face, and then he opens his mouth again. “Wait. Scott?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did you give me an elven ring of power for an engagement ring?”

Scott looks away again, his cheeks heating up. “….Maybe.”

“Me! You gave me, little old Jimmy Solidarity, an elven ring of power?” JImmy’s half-laughing, but the sentiment behind the words sounds real. Too real, Scott thinks; it’s as if Jimmy doesn’t know just how incredible he truly is.

“You’re the most precious thing in my life,” Scott tells him, and he means every word. “I gave you everything I could offer.”

It’s kind of adorable how quickly Jimmy flushes, his face going red and his voice rising an octave. “Stop that!”

“Stop what?” Scott asks- perfectly innocently, mind you.

“Saying that stuff and giving me that look, you know what I mean!” He definitely doesn’t. “That soft one that- that makes me all blushy and stuttery!” Jimmy adds, and Scott grins a little. Jimmy’s just too fun to fluster.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he denies, though he’s sure his smile is giving him away as less innocent than he claims.

“I’m trying to scold you for giving me a ring of power that’s super important, stop- stop flirting, for goodness sake!”

“You’re hot when you’re flustered, though.” Scott barely restrains a yawn from slipping into his voice, trying to wipe some of the blood off his face so it’ll stop getting in his eyes.

“Let me get that,” Jimmy offers. Scott’s too tired to protest his fussing, letting Jimmy dab at the cut with a wet rag and bandage it. Jimmy moves on to cleaning out smaller cuts and scrapes, then the bruises, handing Scott some ice to put on the largest ones. It’s sweet, really, how fussed he is over even the smallest injury. Scott doesn’t think he deserves Jimmy taking care of him this gently, but he can’t bring himself to push him away.

Even if it is a bit annoying that Jimmy’s making him do math to check if he has a concussion. “Ninety-two, ninety-one, I swear I’m fine, Jimmy,” Scott huffs, “Ninety, eighty-nine, eighty-eight, eighty-seven, I literally explained elven rings of power to you, eighty-six, eight-five, can I stop counting now?”

“No.”

“Jimmyyyyyyyy.” Scott must sound like a whiny child, but he’s tired.

“Just a bit more? For me?” Jimmy asks. And oh, that bastard, he’s giving Scott the face that Scott can’t ever say no to. Bastard. Absolute bastard. Scott won’t give in, he won’t.

That determination lasts all of ten seconds before Scott sighs and gives in. “Fine. Eighty-four, eighty-three, eighty-two…”

Jimmy makes him count all the way down to seventy and then multiply together thirteen and twelve, which Scott doesn’t hesitate to whine about

“I can’t believe my own husband made me do math.”

Jimmy’s laughter is worth every second of the math, actually, Scott decides as his husband bops him on the nose. “I’ll make breakfast to make up for it?”

“You better!” Scott tells him. He’s trying to sound affronted, but it just comes out fond, much to his exasperation.

Jimmy laughs again and sets about making pancake batter, which Scott doesn’t hesitate to steal bits of even when Jimmy scolds him for it. It’s peaceful, being able to lean back in his chair and laugh when his husband tries to scold him for flirting. The morning light streams in through his window, casting the side of Jimmy’s face in a golden glow, He looks so alive silhouetted like that, a grin splitting his face and bits of flour in his hair. Scott’s breath catches for a minute just looking at him, the familiar ache in his chest returning, though there’s nothing truly tragic about the scene before him.

He shakes that off when Jimmy offers him the first pancake, shoving thoughts of the future aside. For now, he’ll drink hot chocolate in a sunlit kitchen and pretend his hands don’t tremble just enough to nearly spill it. He’s not going to think about the cuts and bruises scattered across his body, not when Jimmy is looking at him like that, with such utter adoration that Scott can barely believe his luck. How did he get a husband so sweet and warm when he’s as bitterly cold as a Rivendell winter? But whether he deserves it or not, Jimmy’s right there laughing along with him, and Scott can’t find it in himself to be unhappy about it.

This won’t last, he thinks as he watches Jimmy try to fit an entire pancake in his mouth just to see if he can. If Jimmy doesn’t die to his own idiocy or the cruel will of Xornoth, time will take him from Scott as surely as the stars shine above Rivendell. Scott is not Luthien or Idril or Arwen, the elven royals lucky enough to spend the rest of eternity with their mortal husbands; Jimmy will die, likely sooner rather than later, and Scott will be alone with the cold weight of a crown to bear and no sunshine to warm him.

This won’t last, but Scott says nothing of it, sipping his hot chocolate and smiling a little sadly into the mug as Jimmy rambles about different types of fish and their personalities. And if his hands are still cold, and he can’t stop a small shiver? Well, Rivendell has always been a cold empire, hasn’t it?

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #elf ocs #empires smp #flower husbands

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

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https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeknnubu/

I think I can send links but- I just saw this Pre K teacher tiktok & now all I can think of is a future AU where Steve takes like maybe a younger cousin or maybe a friends kid to school (or even his own kid??) and he walks in on fucking bad boy Billy Hargrove, still rocking his leather jacket and combat boots, seated on the carpet doing this with a bunch of Pre K kids as their teacher. Just this big mean badass dude sitting with a bunch of kids, being the best, most sweet teacher in the world

Bonus points for him having a battle jacket of some sort that he lets them add too and play with the dulled down spikes and studs on. And he has a class where the kids all make a patch one big patch for him to add to his jacket because he loves them so much

AND even more points if he just says his whole nice personality is “fake and for work only because it was the first job he got” but It’s actually real, and he really just likes being with the kids all day because their fun & they unconditionally love him, especially on his bad days where he’s sad & less motivated. I just crave soft emotional stuff 😔

steve, for as kind a fellow as he is, really should have thought twice about offering to take his nephew to pre-k every day.

jill, his older sister, had to be at work by 6 every morning during the week and had no means to take her son, patrick, to school every day.

and steve offered because what else was there to do? he worked two jobs that both started later in the day and jill offered to give him gas money to do it, so why not?

plus, patrick really was a sweetheart, he was just an energetic kid. steve preferred older kids. the younger ones tested his patience too much.

but imagine his surprise when he walks into the building, going to patrick’s classroom, turning into the doorway to see billy hargrove, same as he was when they were in high school, sitting on a colorful, patterned rug, animatedly talking to children.

“biwwy!” patrick yelled as he ran from steve’s side to his... teacher... and hugged him super tight.

“hey, patrick, my buddy!”

steve felt like this may be a dream. there is no way that billy hargrove, mullet and all, was patrick’s pre-k teacher.

billy looked to the door, where steve was still standing, and offered a smile. patrick looked to where billy was looking, excitedly telling him about how his super fun uncle was driving him to school now.

billy was engaging with the kids. he talked along with them and was able to balance all the kids at once. he looked happy, steve realized.

steve left a few moments later, making sure patrick was ok and staring at billy for a while longer.

it’s not until the day before winter break that billy and steve actually interact again.

the class is having a holiday party and parents are encouraged to come and bring food, drink, or just general supervision.

steve had made tons of cookies, enjoying his fattening hobby of baking, and they were all decorated with fun santa’s or snowflakes or christmas trees.

he was even told to make a few blank cookies and bring spare icing for kids to decorate during their party stations.

when steve got to the classroom closer to the afternoon, it was still nap time for the 15 kids in the class, all curled up on small cots and bundled in blankets.

when he came in, billy was sitting at a table near the door, organizing strings by color and had stacks of paper and boxes of markers organized the same way.

“hargrove,” steve greeted, “i made cookies, didn’t know if there were any allergies, so they’re pretty plain, no chocolate or anything. and i didn’t decorate a few, like you asked,”

“thanks,” billy didn’t look up to him, still hunched over the table detangling strings. “‘can set ‘em over there,” billy vaguely gestured.

steve went to set them on a table with a fun, winter themed cover over it.

he came back to sit by billy at the craft table because he didn’t know what else to do. plus, he didn’t want to wake any sleeping children.

“so, why are you a pre-k teacher?” steve asked.

“getting straight to the point, huh?”

“well, you look like that,” steve gestured to his embellished leather jacket, the mullet, the tight jeans (not as tight anymore, he did have to get up and down off the floor), and the hefty black boots that could probably crush a kid’s tiny fingers. “and i haven’t heard about you going through a brain reset or something, so what’s up?”

“it’s the only thing i could find,” billy grunted, not liking this conversation.

“don’t teachers have to go to college like everyone else? and have to have like a specific thing that says they’re qualified to be a teacher? seems like an awful lot of work for this to be the only thing you could find,”

“well, i can boss four year olds around all day, who wouldn’t like that job?” billy countered.

steve went to respond when there was a creak heard from behind him. one of the kids, a young girl with a wild head of hair, was walking over to billy with her blanket still wrapped over her shoulders.

“hey, jeanie, what’s wrong, doll?” billy asked, drawing his eyes away from the tangled string, which he didn’t do when talking to steve. he was giving the girl— jeanie— his full attention.

“i woke up,” jeanie said as she made her way closer to billy, “i got nightmares,”

billy’s face turned sympathetic as he put his arms out for jeanie, allowing her to crawl into his lap and rest her head on his chest while he wrapped her tight in his arms.

“wanna tell me what it was about?” billy asked, but only got a shake of her head in return, “that’s ok, you can sleep for another 10 minutes, doll. you’re safe,”

she was cuddled up in his arms, poking at the dull spikes on his shoulders and the silver buttons around the jacket. she looked utterly peaceful as she started to doze off again.

billy was so gentle with the little girl, adjusting her in his arms, making sure she was stable in his lap, before moving one arm back to the string, as if doing it one armed would be easier than before.

“i can do it,” steve offered in a hushed tone, “the string. i can untangle it for you,”

billy slid the string ball over to steve’s side of the table and let him take a crack at it while he started rubbing jeanie’s back.

steve had managed to get the string ball undone in the 10 minutes of nap time they had left. the boys didn’t talk through those 10 minutes, but steve would sneak glances over at billy often.

billy, for someone who tried to run a group of kids over once upon a time, was really great with younger kids. he was able to keep jeanie asleep, even when he moved an arm or straightened his back, something steve couldn’t do with patrick.

another parent showed up right when nap time was going to end, carrying bags of board games and such.

two more parents showed after the kids had woken up, and soon the party was in full swing. the kids were having a delightful time, half of them covered in glitter and icing, but nothing a good bath won’t fix.

billy was thriving in the chaos of four year olds, making sure they were following directions but still having fun, keeping the morale up and excitement high.

the parents seemed to love him, from what steve heard. one parent, wendy, even said that she didn’t like billy to begin with, thought he would be irresponsible and mean, but her kid loves him.

billy, for as much of a big guy as he was, didn’t seem to tower over kids menacingly when standing at full height. and it didn’t seem taunting when he would crouch down. he was on their level, in many ways.

once parents started taking kids home at the end of the day, billy, steve, and patrick were left to help clean up, though patrick was knocked out on the multicolored rug, he’d used up a lot of energy that afternoon.

“so, what do you want me to do?” steve asked, watching billy sweep the floors.

“you can leave if you want, i’ve got it. plus, pat seems to be knocked out, huh?”

“he’s already sleeping, and i feel really bad leaving you to clean everything.”

billy sighed, looking around at the disaster that was his room, “could you start wiping down tables? clorox and paper towels are in the far right cabinet, second shelf,”

they got to work and the whole classroom was clean within the hour. billy was throwing his bag over his shoulder and steve was carrying patrick in his arms as they walked out to their cars.

“do you mind opening my door?” steve asked after many attempts to get patrick adjusted in his arms to move and open the back door.

billy moved over to open the back door of steve’s car before walking back over to his car, the same car he’d been driving since high school.

i guess people really never change, steve thought.

once he got patrick settled into his car seat and got the car running to warm it up before he drove home, steve stood and talked to billy for a few minutes. just casual conversation, a thanks from billy for steve’s help.

“would you, maybe, wanna go get a drink or something some time?” steve asked, awkward as ever.

the rest was history, steve and billy would see each other for a date every weekend and they’d wave to the other in the mornings and afternoons.

they had a similar situation when the spring party came, steve bringing decorated and undecorated cookies for the kids and showing up during their nap time.

but steve had something in his bag that he wouldn’t let billy see.

through the party, steve would bring the mystery item to each kid, making extra sure that billy never saw it.

even at their date that weekend, billy couldn’t get it out of steve to find out what it was.

at the very end of the year, they have another party (and steve does not remember his pre-k days, but he doesn’t think they had this many parties).

billy has been weird the past week, finally realizing that he’s not gonna see these kids often, if at all, anymore. he’d grown very attached.

but, in true billy manner, he refused to let anyone know he was upset about a bunch of toddlers.

that’s where steve’s secret came in handy.

you see, on that day of the spring party, steve had gotten a piece of paper and has each kid sign it in a different color. he’d brought it to a small shop and they’d been able to transfer it onto a patch, one for billy’s jacket.

it was scaled down to be the size of an index card, but all the names were still legible.

when they’d given it to billy at the end of the day, before kids went home, billy almost cried.

he loved the kids so much and loved the connection and impact they have had on him without him knowing. he’s gonna miss rocking jeanie to sleep three times a week because she can never stay asleep alone.

he’s gonna miss the chaos that this group of children, specifically, brought. they made his day great, even if he was feeling especially shitty.

they helped him feel good about himself. kids don’t lie, that’s for sure, and billy created such a strong bond with them that all their thanks and love will be forever ingrained onto his heart.

#stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #teacher billy #mediocre—writing #mw harringrove

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forever-rogue · 4 years

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what about reader having a allergic attack and sin reacting to that. I remember when I had one and my boyfriend couldn't find the vaccine that I needed and he started panicking and try to carry me to the hospital and I was trying to laugh but I was dying Hahahana a whole mood. I imagine how it would be with din.

Oh my stars, that sounds good hilarious and scary! I'm glad you're okay! I can't help but feel like Din would be very similar...

The Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　—��——-««

Dinner was going to be good. Delicious even. It was the first multicourse, warm, sit down meal you'd had in months.

You'd spent all day in the kitchen, working to prepare all of your and Din's favorites, with the small green bean under foot as he attempted to help.

It was a far cry, so different from your reality a few short months ago. Now you had a home, a stable home on the ground, one you could come back to every day and not have to worry about leaving, one with a garden, one with neighbors - normalcy. Now, you had an official husband, and your small son was safe and not at risk all the time. It was strange not to have worry and be on your toes all the time, but a life you were slowly being accustomed to.

"Cyare?" Din's voice was soft as he came into the kitchen, his armor still on, but helmet stripped off, "it smells delicious. I'm so hungry I could eat a bantha."

"Well, luckily, you don't have to worry about that," you turned to him, grinning at the sight of his bare face before reaching up and running a hand through his dark curls, "no bantha in sight. Just what the little one and I whipped up today and dessert from the neighbors."

"Apparently I had some excellent timing," he kissed you quickly, catching you off guard for a moment before you responded in kind. His aquiline nose bumped against yours before he laughed and bent down to scoop up the Child, "have you been good for your buir today?"

The little looked at him happily, cooing and chirping excitedly at the two of you before you nodded. He reached his small petal hands to Din's face as he leaned up to hug him. Din's smile was brighter than the twin suns of Tatooine as he bent his head to touch his forehead against his in a soft keldabe kiss.

"Go on and take him and shower and change," you gently nudged him with your hips in the direction of the upstairs, "dinner will be ready by the two you come back."

"Are you sure..."

"Yes," you promised softly, "go on, my love. I've got this all handled."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Dinner was a quiet affair as you sat across from Din, his legs resting against yours, and the little one at the head of the table. It felt so normal, so natural, like it was always meant to be. You'd been playing at this for some time, playing at being a normal family, but now that it was here, your daily reality, you never wanted anything else.

"You're thinking awfully loudly," Din said softly as you gave him a sheepish look with a smol shrug of your shoulders, "come on, what's going on up there?"

"Nothing that should warrant any worry," you promised, setting down your fork and leaning back in your chair, "I am happy. Very happy....I just...sometimes it doesn't feel real. Like any second it could go away, I know its silly to worry about, but I just want this forever."

"Me too," he agreed as the little cooed softly, "nothing will ever happen - nothing bad. We're safe now. Safe and sound."

"I know," you agreed, a small contented sigh escaping your lips, "I love you, you know."

"I know," he laughed lightly, "I kind of got that feeling a long time ago but you know, I love you too."

"Good," you grinned as you stood up and gathered some of the now empty dishes. He offered to help but you shook your head, promising that you could handle something so simple. Besides, you'd leave the dishes for tomorrow, that way you could recruit your boys to help with washing and putting them away, "dessert?"

"Of course," he insisted as the Child cooed excitedly. You brought over the big, delicious smelling pie that your neighbor had set and it in the cent of the table. Passing a fork to Din, you picked up the green bean and sat down on the table to where he could easily eat some of the pie, "what kind is it? It looks amazing."

"I dunno," you admitted, "there was so much going on when Mrs. Tenche brought it over I didn't think to ask. But she did say it was a family recipe. So, I guess we just dig in."

"I can't argue with that," Din grinned as the two of you sliced into the pie and the little one grabbed a handful. It was silent for a few moments as the three of you took bites and tried to decide how you felt about the pie.

It was delicious - filled with a sweet, soft filling that contained some mild spices and a flakey, buttery crust. You could have easily eaten the whole thing by yourself in one setting.

"Good," Din mumbled between mouthfuls as you nodded. Even the little one seemed to enjoy, as he went back for another handful, making little sounds of excitement, "we should get this recipe. What do you think it is?"

"I don't know," you pondered as you coughed lightly, some of the crust crumbs getting caught in your throat, "some sort of fruit...and spices."

"I think maybe jogan fruit," he mused as you nodded. You set down your fork as you reached for your water, trying to clear your throat, "maybe some of the spices from the local market."

"Mhmm," you coughed, your throat starting to feel tighter and tighter with each passing second, "umm...spices."

"Cyare?" Din's eyes grew up as he set down his fork and studied you. He could immediately tell something was up, "what's wrong?"

"Umm," you could barely get down any water as you started to gasp for air, "spices. Allergic..."

"Kriff," he almost shouted as he jumped up and ran over to you, "I completely forgot. Do you know which ones? Your medicine...where is it?"

"I don't remember which ones," your hand was on your throat as you tried to slow and even the little breathing you managed, "its in the bedroom...somewhere."

"Stars," he anxiously ran to the stars but came back to you and then back to the stars, clearly in a state of panic, "s-stay here. I'll be right back."

"Okay..." you managed to squeak out as the little one slowly came over to you and plopped down in front of you. His inky eyes were wide with concern as he held out his hands towards you.

You could hear loud banging and slamming from upstairs as Din frantically ran around, trying to find your medicine. If you hadn't been trying not to panic, you might have laughed at him.

The little one made a sound to get your attention as you reached over to pick him up. As soon as you did, he put his little petal hands on your cheeks, studying you intently as he seemed to focus all of his energy onto you.

Slowly, as if by magic, which you realized it was something of the sort, he used his strange healing powers on you as your throat started to become less and less constricted.

Your airway started to feel normal again as your breathing slowly evened out and the rapid beating of your heart become less erratic.

"You..." you looked at your small son that was watching intently with his big eyes as he smiled. Picking him up, you held him tightly to your chest, holding him as close as possible, "thank you...thank you so much. You are my little lifesaver."

He made a noise akin to happiness before breathing in deeply and yawning. Although getting better at managing his power, he still easily tired after exerting such copious amounts of energy.

Din came bounding down the stairs, calling your name, and almost tripping over his down feet as he hopped off the landing, "I couldn't find it! But here, I'm going to take to the Healer and-"

"Din-"

"And we'll get you sorted out," he didn't even listen, so consumed with worry as he attemled to scoop you up in his arms, "it won't get long to get there-"

"Din..."

"Speeder bike is fast and-"

"Din!" the sudden almost bark of his name caused him to snap out of his stupor as he looked at you holding the little one, the color back in your face as you sat there calmly.

"Wait...what happened?" he asked as his hands went to your face as he studied you to make sure he wasn't making this up in his mind.

"I'm okay," you reassured him with a soft nod, "he helped."

As if on cue, he started to snore lightly as he had drifted off to sleep in your arms. Din made a sound somewhere between confusion and thankfulness as he dropped to his knees before you, one hand tightly clutching onto yours, "thank the maker. I don't know what..."

"I know, my love," you leaned down and pressed a soft to kiss to the crown of his head, "luckily we don't have to worry about that. Good thing we've got just a caring, helpful son."

"What if-"

"Shhh," you took your hand out of his and pressed a finger to his lips, "its okay. No need to worry about things that didn't happen. But I am glad to know, you'd drop everything to help me."

"You know I will," he promised, "always."

"As I would for either of you."

"I do have a few small requests..."

"Shoot."

"We'll find your medicine and keep it somewhere downstairs," he insisted as you nodded, "just in case this ever happens again...and second, I'm taste testing foods from now. Just the mystery ones."

"Deal," you grinned at him, "I'll have to get the recipe so we can figure out what the spices are and recreate it without whichever one that caused the reaction."

"Perfect," he stood up and reached for the child, "as good as the dessert was, I don't think its worth dying for."

"Jury's out on that one..."

"Either way, I'll go put him in bed and then come back for you. I'll find you some dessert that won't cause this," he took him gently from you, "be right back."

"Be right here," you promised, "thank you, my love."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he insisted, "just keep out of trouble for a few minutes."

"No promises on that..."

"Cyare..."

"Fine! Now hurry up!"

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the Mandalorian #the Mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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thatonecitykid · 3 years

Text

I bet on Losing

Hey everyone! Sorry this is so sad.. was already crying so might as well make everyone else cry.This takes place after Endgame but during the same time as Far From Home. Listen to "I Bet on Losing Dogs" by Mitski for the full experience. Word Count: 2517. Have fun angels :)

Peter had finally left for his class trip, Pepper and Morgan had gone to spend their summer in Malibu, the remaining avengers were either in space or had completely disappeared from your life. Here you were after five years of your life had evaporated, and after all this time you had to play your fathers role for all the remaining avengers. You hadn't had the opportunity to cry when you first learned about what had happened. You couldn't cry at the funeral, not because you did not want to, but because you felt as if your father wouldn't want to see it. No one wanted to leave you alone, but after months of trying to dig some type of emotion out of you they had assumed that the death and slow disappearance of your makeshift avenger family had unaffected you.

You finally had the opportunity to exist alone. You had also finally mustered up the strength to visit secluded cabin your father had lived in for the last five years of his life. Although you had been given the keys immediately after the funeral, something about visiting the area made you feel uneasy. Not necessarily creeped out but just as if you did not belong, after all it was something your father invested in after you had already blipped away for several months.

You drove up to the cabin alone, slowly unlocking the door as if to not start or whoever may be inside. Before even entering the cabin, it looks clean, you assume that Pepper has had people cleaning constantly to maintain the cabin. It made sense, it was something she's cherished. You stepped into the cabin slowly and began to look around. The walls were lined with framed pictures of Morgan, family pictures of Pepper, your dad, and Morgan, and random posters and vintage albums. Although you were not the one to complain about it, having no evidence of your existence in the main areas of the home caused your heart dropped. As you wandered through the kitchen and the main family room, there is no evidence of Tony's life prior to the blip, just a somewhat normal family of three.

You decide to wander to the basement area, leaving the office and bedroom spaces upstairs for later. There was a large sitting area that you assumed they watched movies in. There was also a playroom painted pink featuring all sorts of gadgets very similar to those you grew up with that Tony had made for you. Towards the back hall of the basement, it was a glass door to your father's workshop area. You open the door gently and made your way in.

Despite looking like somewhat of a mess, you knew that behind the madness there was a method. You could tell that although your dad left in a hurry, things were placed in specific spots very similarly to how he did in every other one of his workshops. You walked towards his swiveling chair, noticing a metal box with a button on the worktable. You press the button and jump back as a life-size hologram of your father appeared in the room. He began

"Hi Pepper. My love, my muse, my boss. If you are listening to this then I did the one thing you have always told me not to do. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the worry I've put you through, and I am sorry for taking myself away from you. I was a gift wasn't I. You've already seen another version of this message, but it never hurts to see your face again my darling."

The tears in your eyes begin to form, not because you had not expected to see your father. At this point you had already seen the message he had left after the funeral; It was only really meant for Pepper and Morgan, never addressing you.. At the funeral you refused to enter the cabin but as you watched the message while standing outside, Happy looked over at you with remorse but you kept a straight face again. Who were you to complain at your dead dad's funeral? Yet this message radiated the same energy.

As the second portion of the message began to play tears began to fall faster. It almost feels like an out of body, sure your dad had taken up different kids during your time growing up, but this message made you feel as If you had been completely replaced. Although it felt like a dumb theory there was no evidence as to your existence prior to Morgan.

"Hello my little scientist. How's my favorite person. Daddy is really sorry I can't be there right now. Be a trooper and hug you mom for me real quick. Now you must be surprised because I'm supposed to be the strongest dad in the world but let me tell you kid, sometimes crazy things happen when put on the ironman helmet. My little minion I love you 3000. My love for you is infinite. You have been and will forever be daddy's best friend."

Here you were crying over a child who had also lost her father, filled with jealousy over the fact that you father had chosen her and failed to consider your return but had prepared for Peter's return, still had projects waiting for Harley, and had in fact set up a stable plan for Morgan's future. At this point you were sobbing, what had all felt like a bad nightmare and jumping to conclusions had started to feel way too real. This emotion was even stronger than when you watched footage from your father suit as the snap happened, this emotion felt like a stab in the back.

Maybe he never loved me.

You tried to collect yourself but were still sobbing when the holographic figure of you father disappeared. You might as well finish the house tour before leaving. The upstairs portion of the house featured Tony and Pepper's room, Morgan's room and two other doors. The main bedroom was tidy and organized, with a closet full of clothes that both Pepper and your dad had left. You walked into Morgan's room and did a quick look around, not wanting to invade child space. Returning to the hallway you opened the door to your father's office. Inside there was a rather simple with a desk, a leather chair, and two matching chairs. The plants in the room were growing well, meaning someone still came to water them. There were a few pictures on the wall, including Peter's Stark internship picture, and a random picture you took of the original Avengers after their first New York battle. On the desk there was another metal box similar to that in the workpace. You argued whether or not you wanted to potentially break your heart more before giving in, siting in the leather seat and pressing the button.

A slim beam of light scanned over your face, confirming your identity, and the box began to play. To say you were shocked is an understatement, as your father's hologram appeared across the desk sitting in one of the matching chairs.

"Hello Munchkin. If you've found this box, then I just going to have to accept that I've failed you. You've been gone for five years and regret every moment leading up to when you snapped away. You really did want to come to space with me, and honestly you would have been helpful, but I don't think I could see you Blip away and have the will to continue. That being said because I am already admitting I was wrong, I should not have had your suit take you to the bunker room, where you eventually snapped away alone. I regret that decision y constantly. On another note, I'm sorry I didn't hug you as soon as you got back, I clearly I cannot really hug anyone."

You had finally given up on holding in their tears. You didn't have to be strong in front of your dad. He had always held you when you cried and this time he couldn't. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, but nothing felt the same.

"I hope you are crying, because if I'm crying alone during this part, I'll be embarrassed, his image continued as it stood up and leaned against the back of the chair. Munch I know you've probably walked around this house and have found no evidence of yourself. You've probably beat yourself up about how much I love Morgan, but think about it. The amount of time I've spent these last 5 years essentially idolizing you would not have been good for her to experience. "

You rose quickly from the chair. Not even one damn picture?

"Now I know you're wondering not even a single picture. Pick up the projector box and follow me ."

You did as the digital version of your father told you and followed it back into the hallway.

"Put the box down and put your hand on the center of the door. "

This activated a scanner which opened up the door to the room. As you walked in you recognized that this was an exact replica of your room back in the Malibu house. You were still a kid when the original house was blown to pieces but somehow everything was exactly as you remembered it. As you walked further into the room you noticed the large screens, placed like picture frames, which played videos and pictures of you and your dad throughout the years.

Your father walked towards the center of the room, bounded by how far the projector was.

"You see kid, me and you have somewhat the same grieving styles. I have a feeling you didn't cry at the funeral. I have a feeling you haven't cried, at least in a way that someone else could have noticed. You take after me in that sense."

The hologram started to sniffle, your dad had actually started crying when recording this. You really wanted to hug him, the reality of his death hurt even more. You had finally allowed yourself to start grieving.

"Look, I know you used to listen to the song about betting on losing dogs when you wanted to cry, but that does not apply to you at all. You may have gotten a more complicated stick of life, but I can tell ya, this does not need to be your villain origin story. From the first day I took you home I could tell you were a fighter, but I need you to feel as if its ok to cry. I've spent hours on this floor in shambles wishing you were here. The small things that Morgan does that remind me of you throw me into sadness pools constantly. You are my motivating force. I really hope you allow yourself to cry about it so that you can continue in life. I don't think I can stand in this room for any longer before I cannot speak at all, so please take the projector back to my office. "

As you lifted the projector you thought about how much this must have hurt your father to record. Maybe he didn't want anyone to encounter this box except for you. As you placed the box on the desk, you sat back into the leather chair as your father's holograph sat across from you.

"On a different note, you are probably wondering why I seemed to set up a game plan for everyone but you. With Morgan I just made sure she had a comfortable, who am I kidding, lavish funding behind her. I can't dictate what a five-year-old should do. For Harley you know that I've always looked out for him, a position in Stark industries honestly should not have surprised you. Peter is what I feel most conflicted about. I'm not setting him up to become the next Ironman, I'm setting him up to become the greatest version of Spiderman he can be. Well, I know the media is probably going to take it and run having known that Spiderman and Ironman we're friends at some point, but I'm really giving you the biggest responsibility. I don't expect you to live in my shadow, I want you to outgrow it. I think you might be surprised to see everything that I left you, besides Stark industries itself. That's a conversation for another day."

"I know I've been speaking for quite a while, but my baby, my baby yes I called you that. I know how much this has all affected you, and I'm sorry, I am completely sorry and do take full fault for it all. But now because we cannot change the past, let's focus on the present. I want you to know that I loved you with my entire being. I'm not sure how to emphasize this enough but I do want you to know you were cared for, you were loved, and you were thought about for every minute. If you don't get to see this message, and I'm already gone, that means this message will never have to play for anyone. Either I found you and I've given you a new message, or I'm rolling in my grave. Either way my darling I cannot emphasize how much I love you. I do hope for the best for. Before I have to go, I want to see you smile. Sure, I can't physically see it right now, but I can imagine it."

As the recording choked out that last sentence, you flashed a weak smile. A face sticky with all the tears that you have been crying.

Now I know you need to get back home, but when you get back to the city, stop by the shawarma place and get something to eat. you gotta eat Darling. Also don't act like you don't like Peter, you two idiots keep pushing each other away in cannot take it. Now I'm gonna say goodbye mini me. Watch over Pepper and Morgan for me, okay? I love you."

You took one final sweep of the house before heading back to your car. You had cried so much that your eyes physical hurt. You almost felt a sense of comfort having finally released some of the pent-up emotion. As you drove towards the city and towards the Shawarma place you almost felt kind of sad, knowing that all of your friends were in a foreign country. Yet you still felt as if your best friend, your Dad was watching over you. And in all reality that felt as if it was the only thing that mattered.

#stark reader #stark!reader #irondad #tony stark x reader #peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader

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toraodwaterlaw · 3 years

Text

Heart to Heart

Part 1 of a four part AU fic set just after Marineford. In this AU, Doflamingo discovered Law and kept Rosinante alive as a way to force Law into his service. Law becomes the third Corazon while Rosinante lives as a prisoner in the palace on Dressrosa. Hopefully this makes enough sense on its own. 😅

1365 words, angst with an eventual happy ending

Law slid to the ground and let his eyes close to the stable metronome of the twin pair of heart monitors. He hadn’t been this exhausted since the final days of his fight with Amber Lead. This time there was no poison in his blood. He was no longer a frail child but a healthy adult in peak condition. Doflamingo would accept no less of his second in command. However, there was no amount of training that could prepare him for keeping two patients alive through little more than sheer force of will.

Straw Hat Luffy and Jinbe, knight of the sea, would live. It would have been a difficult operation even with proper support. On his own, with only the powers of the Op-Op fruit to back him up, it had been a nightmare. He’d needed to keep a Room up for over twelve hours straight. There was still work to be done but he didn’t have the energy to stand, let alone continue a delicate operation. They were no longer careening toward death. That would have to do for the time being.

Law would have liked nothing more than to slip into unconsciousness himself. Ideally he would go to his quarters and slip into bed. It was one of the few places in the world where he felt secure enough anymore to fall into a deep sleep. At this point, though, he would have happily settled for passing out on the floor in the operating room. But what he might want would have to wait. It always did, when it came to Doflamingo.

He groped blindly at the shelf behind him until he found his den den mushi. He allowed himself one bracing breath before dialing.

“You’re alive.”

Law suppressed the shudder he felt at hearing that voice. After all these years it shouldn’t have affected him the way it did. “I am.”

“That was quite the show you put on.”

Law’s mind raced immediately in response, looking for the right response. Doflamingo was all about theatrics. His whole so-called Family was. So, there was a chance he approved of what Law had done. It would all depend on how this reflected on him. It would definitely cause a stir. Law had known that from the moment his small submarine surfaced at Marineford. He’d gone in knowing it was likely to be a disaster but, for some reason, he hadn’t cared. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d acted without first considering how Doflamingo would feel about it. What could Law say? If Doflamingo didn’t approve, Law was certain there wasn’t an explanation that would please him, regardless.

“I’m sorry.” The apology tasted like ash on his tongue, like the bile building at the back of his throat. “I—”

“I don’t really care,” Doflamingo drawled. A hint of amusement tinged his voice. With him, that could be genuine or it could be a sign of something very dangerous. He didn’t sound angry, at the very least, but that meant very little. Law knew the venom that could hide behind a smile. “I still have business to take care of but we’ll have to have a good talk as soon as you’re back in Dressrosa. Come home the moment you’re done playing around.”

The line went dead, leaving silence that rang in Law’s ears.

Home. It stuck out to Law, like a nail in the floorboards. Doflamingo couldn’t be so self centered that he thought Law actually felt that way about the palace on Dressrosa, even after nearly a decade. Or, actually, Doflamingo could very well be that delusional. The fact was, it could be the rest of Law’s life and he would never feel that way about it. Not that it mattered, in the end. Home or prison, it was where Law would always return. So long as Cora was there, Law would be, too.

He didn’t have to be, though, a dark voice inside him whispered. He could leave. There had never been a better opportunity for Law to slip away and never return. Doflamingo wouldn’t be expecting him back for weeks. He could have a real head start. He could finally be free.

“Dammit.”

He banged his head back against the metal cabinet behind him and jabbed another number into the den den mushi. A tap on the other end let him know that Cora was there and that it was safe to talk.

“Cora-san, I...”

Guilt tightened Law’s throat. He’d done nothing but betray Cora. His hand tightened around the receiver so that it creaked in his grip. He heard another tap from the other end of the line.

Yes?

Law swallowed hard. The less Cora knew of how Law had failed him, the better. Let him think that Law was in any way worthy of the sacrifices he’d made. But Law couldn’t leave him completely in the dark. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a migraine coming on. It was hard to think through the pain and haze of exhaustion. He was certain he was going to say the wrong thing.

“I did something stupid. Doflamingo already knows. I don’t know if it’s in the news already. Maybe you’ve already seen. I wanted you to know, though, in case Doflamingo— I want you to be safe.”

He counted heartbeats as he waited. Finally there were a series of taps. It was part of the communication they’d worked out over the years and a phrase Law had probably heard more than any other from Cora.

Are you okay?

“I’m fine.”

That lie came easily. He could have been asleep and the same words would have come out. He should have left it at that. That was safe. It might not satisfy Cora, but they were both used to conversations ending there. But then his roving eyes landed on the blood that was now splattered about his ordinarily spotless operating room. It was a mess. It was all a giant mess. Law bit down on his lip as it started to tremble. It wasn’t enough to stop him from venting everything that had built up. The entire story tumbled out, from waiting in Marineford’s harbor like the obedient dog he was to his snap decision and rushed escape as he struggled to drag two terminal patients back from the brink.

It all seemed to come out as one long jumble of words that left him breathless by the time he was done. “It was stupid,” he said, more to himself than to the man on the other end of the line. “I knew while I was doing it that I shouldn’t. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He’d watched as the brother Straw Hat had come to save was murdered in front of him. The oppressive weight of fire and death had nearly been enough to choke Law. It had struck something deep in him and shook loose long buried memories of Flevance.

Law’s hands started to shake as he waited for a response. There weren’t any more taps but a sharp inhale. Cora was upset. He’d said too much.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. Take care of yourself. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He hung up. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until they hurt and he cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let tears fall but he didn’t have the strength left to stop them.

He had to hope that one stupid act in ten years of service wouldn’t be enough for Doflamingo to decide to do something drastic. Or, if he did, let it fall on Law’s own head. This had nothing to do with Cora. Law was officially the third Corazon. It was time Doflamingo started punishing him directly for acting out.

Maybe he could make that argument. Or, if that didn’t work, he could beg. He would beg, if he had to. If it would save Cora, he would do anything. Hadn’t he shown that by now?

As he considered his options, Law slid further down onto the cold metal floor and fell into a fitful sleep.

#one piece #one piece au #corazon!law #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #donquixote rocinante #corazon #fic

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

The Cowboy - Part 7

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) -- her boss in this part brings up gender.

Word count: 2827

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Perhaps it was because everything that transpired earlier had felt like a dream and closing your eyes made the most sense. You wondered if you had actually been reading one of those novels Natalia had packed for you to pass by a rainy afternoon and conjured up the delicious events that had occurred in your mind until you roused from your slumber.

No. You knew you had been within the strong arms of Jaehyun’s for some time. And after you both became still from the bountiful passion, the last thing you remembered was his lips softly pressing over one of your brows, and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were at peace.

As you became alert again, however, your bliss felt short-lived as panic rose in your chest.

Had Jaehyun spent his afternoon with you and then departed? It did make sense if he had. There was always a lot to do on the ranch and playing around with you all day long would no doubt put further strain on the daily chores.

But it was Sunday, and as Jaehyun stated yesterday, the weekends were for rest.

As you gathered yourself up, wrapping your robe around your body, you looked around your room. There was no sign of the man anywhere. Going into the bathroom next, you saw the pile of damp clothing was gone, including your own.

“Maybe I really did dream it all up,” you mumbled dejectedly, going down the stairs at a snail’s pace, each step descending you further into despair.

Just how much did you like Jung Jaehyun?

You knew part of the dejection came with your past. As a woman with a career, you had often struggled with relationships. You knew of successful people who managed both, but you weren’t so lucky. You invested too much time into your job or personal growth that having a partner felt somewhat of a burden. When you did attempt to make room in your schedule for someone, it never felt genuine enough. You were used to sleeping with corporate bachelors, finding the bed empty of their presence once you woke again. There was nothing that spurred you on to find true romance within the city.

Dream or not, you had hoped Jaehyun would be different.

Slumping into the kitchen, you stopped and blinked rapidly when several sounds and smells hit you at once. It felt foreign to stand there and watch the back of a man over your stovetop cooking something that made a sizzling sound. As you regained some coherency, you realised it was bacon and eggs and the man before you was the one that had travelled with you all the way to Nirvana more than once.

Jaehyun hadn’t gone anywhere.

Overwhelmed with relief and the swelling in your chest, you rushed forward and buried yourself into his back. Jaehyun relaxed into your embrace and chuckled. “Missed touching me that much, huh?”

“You didn’t go.”

“Of course not. That would be rude of me to just—hey. Are you crying?”

You tightened your grip around his waist so he couldn’t turn to confirm his suspicions. Sniffling, you shook your head against him. “No.”

“Have I overstayed? I thought you might be hungry, is all. I figured whilst you rested, I should dry my clothes and then I wanted to make sure you ate something before I left. We’ve been rather physical today, both in and out of the house. You need to regain some energy.”

You pressed your lips into his clothed left shoulder blade and hummed in response. A smile crossed your lips with how relieved you felt. Your emotions, normally well in check, were now over the place and you were surprised with how giddy you were after foolishly crying over his back.

Blayne was surely changing the way you processed things. And Jaehyun was affecting your heart in ways you didn’t quite understand yet.

You didn’t want to try to figure it out either. If you started to apply logic to the situation, you might end up in a position that didn’t allow you to hold onto Jaehyun anymore.

You were too comfortable nestled into him like this.

“You know, I’m trying to cook here.”

“Am I bothering you from doing so?” you queried with a giggle, and Jaehyun moved quickly, a squeak coming from you as he grabbed you and pulled you in front of him. You reached for the spatula he had placed down in the bustle as he wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, so it’s now on me to cook, huh?”

“I wanted to experience what was making you feel so good right now,” Jaehyun murmured into you, peppering you in light kisses over your neck. “I can see why you didn’t want to let go.”

“Missed touching me already?” you teased and grinned when he chuckled softly near your ear.

“You made a bad choice in sleeping with this Cowboy, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, how so?”

“I might want to keep doing it more often.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you nudged him playfully. “The food is ready. Let’s eat before we discuss where you’re going to bed tonight.”

The new week started with a smile permanently embedded upon your lips. You had kissed Jaehyun goodbye earlier before the sun had risen, knowing he had to get home before the day of work began for him.

You managed to fall asleep for a little longer until your alarm went off, and you happily took a shower and got dressed. You had a Zoom call at ten with Pierce to discuss the planning process so far and took your time preparing for your drive to the township over for stable internet connection.

All whilst humming a happy tune to yourself.

You could tell you were still on a high from the connection made with Jaehyun yesterday. It wasn’t just because of the sex, though you had to admit, he was an exceptionally good lover. Last night, you hadn’t moaned his name around the walls when you climbed into bed with him, though. He had simply held you and told you some stories about his upbringing, and you had shared your own. You felt content. It was a first that you had met someone who wanted to know more about you than what was under your clothes.

It empowered you as you drove down the country roads, stopping when you saw a familiar horse cantering across a field towards you.

Jaehyun pulled Blaze to an easy halt and tipped his hat in greeting at you, and your insides did a somersault. You felt like a teenager experiencing your first crush as you leaned out the window beaming up at him.

“Hello, Cowboy.”

“It’s a good morning today, Miss City. Off to work?”

“I have a Zoom meeting with my boss,” you mentioned, and Jaehyun nodded. You glanced over at another horse in the distance rounding up the cattle. “Shouldn’t you be over there helping poor Avery?”

“Poor Avery? You’re more worried about my cousin than me?” Jaehyun asked as he leaned his forearm onto the horn of the saddle. “I’m wounded.”

“You’ll be fine. The man I spent a lot of time with yesterday seemed pretty strong and capable.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Did he now?”

Avery was now on his way over, and you straightened up in your seat, wiping the adorable smile off your lips. Jaehyun frowned at your sudden disposition and then glanced lazily over his shoulder. “Are we hiding this?”

“No. Yes. No… I mean, I don’t know. People might get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea will that be?”

You scrunched your face up as you answered. “That I’m willing to sleep my way around to get changes here.”

Jaehyun was silent for a moment and then burst into hearty laughter when Avery came to a stop. The newcomer looked between you both and then cocked his head to the side. “What joke did I just miss out on?”

“Miss City here just made my day,” Jaehyun managed to say, adjusting the hat over his head from how amused he had gotten. “I think I’m going to be laughing all day after that one.”

“It wasn’t meant to be funny!” you exclaimed and waved off Avery. “Ignore him. He’s not all with it.”

“He’s been in an exceptionally good mood all morning. Maybe you might know of why, Y/N?”

“Me?!” you asked in an octave higher and shook your head. “I uh-”

“You best get to work before you’re late for that meeting with your city people, Y/N,” Jaehyun reminded, and you gasped, nodding eagerly.

“Good luck!” Avery called, and both men tipped their hats and farewell and turned the horses around.

You watched on only for a moment longer before driving off again.

“What is the status between Jaehyun and me?”

Whilst you didn’t quite know how close you would get to the cowboy, you hoped that what you had experienced over the last twenty-four hours wasn’t the end of it.

With the way Jaehyun had looked at you before, you were certain it was only the beginning.

“I see you’ve assimilated to being one of them,” your boss mentioned with a sly chuckle as he answered your Zoom call. You frowned, and he gestured to your outfit he could see through the video.

“Ah,” you breathed, glancing down at your sundress and then nodded. “I have plans to meet with Mrs Jung here after our meeting today. I didn’t wish to impose on her in office attire. They don’t wear anything quite like it out here.”

“Don’t come back to the office and think you can wear that here. You’re a little too relaxed by the looks of things. I hope you don’t see this as a paid holiday, Y/N.”

“I would never!” you pointed out and then cleared your throat, picking up your copy of your proposal you had printed out at the library just before. With a strained smile, you looked at your boss through the screen. “Shall we start with my recommendations?”

You had only gotten to page eight of your report when Pierce threw it down on the table and leaned back in his chair. “This won’t work.”

“It’s just my preliminary findings, Pierce. I’m still meeting with the people and finding out what they need for this to be pulled off.”

“I don’t care about housing. Where is the report I asked for about my resort land in the first place? We will not be focusing on any of this in our redevelopment, Y/N.”

“Pierce!” you exclaimed, shaking your head at your laptop’s screen. “We need to focus on the development of what’s here first before-”

“We’re not coming into the area to take on the complaints of the people in Blayne and serve their needs first, Y/N. We’re here to scout out the best place for a resort. That’s all. Besides, once we do that, there will be more jobs, and then the development of the county overall will make sense for those to undertake in the area.”

“They won’t agree to it,” you told your boss. “These people need to be offered hope first. They are very closed off to the concept of a resort. What Blayne needs is more housing to help bring in workers to the farms first.”

“When a resort comes into that area, do you think the farms will be at the forefront? Don’t worry about them. Worry about your job. You know, the one I sent you down there to do in the first place. I didn’t take you for being so soft, Y/N. I guess being a woman makes you more sympathetic to these people.”

You gaped at your boss. “That is sexism, Pierce. My gender has nothing to do with how I’m handling things here. Yes, it will mean a delay in building the resort, but I know my idea will lead to the end goal becoming achievable.”

“I don’t care how many people live there.” Pierce steepled his fingers together on top of his desk and leaned closer to his webcam. “They could all get driven out of there for all I care. The resort is what I want to hear about.”

You laughed incredulously. “They’ve been here for generations. They aren’t going to give up their land for any type of pressure you’re suggesting. It was you who told me that I needed to work into the people’s favour, don’t you remember? That’s what I have been doing!”

“Have you? Because all it seems that you can report to me about is a sad township that you want to build up and not about locating the most perfect place for a golf range.”

You clamped your eyes shut in attempts to compose yourself. “I’ve yet to reach page fourteen of the proposal in this meeting. I’ve already noted down where I think the resort and amenities can go once we get the support from the locals.”

Your boss was quiet for a moment, perusing the documents before him and a finger rose to his mouth as he took in the information. A smile grew on his lips. “The back property of the Jungs, you say? Your first mission is to secure that land. Get it to me in two months.”

“Two months?! Are you serious?”

“Deadly. Unless you’re softening to all that country charm they chime on about out there.”

“Blayne needs-”

“I need you to perform your job. Stop worrying about what the people want. Give them what they need. And that is a tourism destination that will bring them greater riches than the bare land and cows ever will.”

_________________

Part 8

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elowenp · 3 years

Text

part 1, this on ao3

It’s a normal night, until it’s not.

Dick had been purposeful when he had said that Damian could make mistakes. He remembers the way the necessity of perfection had eaten at him when he was younger. He knows that Damian is even more susceptible than he was to that burning self-disgust at anything less than a flawlessness. Upon taking over the mantle of Batman, Dick had decided that Damian needed to know there was at least one adult in his life who wouldn't disown him for delivering anything less than perfection.

He hadn’t thought so much about what would happen when Damian actually did make a mistake.

It happens when Dick is in the middle of congratulating Damian on a particularly impressive move, one with a more gymnastic slant which Dick is sure is based on one of his own trademarks. He’s telling Damian what a good job he’s doing and Damian is puffing up with pride, a smile playing around the edges of his expression. Then Dick catches the glint of the sniper rifle scope.

The ability to dodge bullets is a trademark of members of their family. Damian should feel the whistle of the bullet coming his way, he should jolt back from the air parting in front of him. But Damian's too caught up in his pride to do any of those things quickly enough so within a moment of Dick spotting the rifle scope there’s a bullet in Damian's leg.

Dick is so used to falling that he doesn't remember a time when it didn't feel like flying. The way his stomach drops now though, it doesn't feel like flying. It feels like the kid he said he'd take care of has blood spurting from his leg and it's all Dick's fault.

To his credit Damian is very calm about it. Dick knows he’s been shot before although he doesn’t know if it was a purposeful part of the boys training or not. His blood boils at either prospect. Even as the crowd is still screaming for their heroes to come save them Dick grabs Damian from the blood soaked ground and rushes to the batmobile, putting it on autopilot as he tries to stabilise the patient.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, “I’m sorry. We’ll be back at home in no time and we’ll get you all fixed up, okay?” Dick blinks away the tears at the sight of Damian bloody and pale in front of him. Impediments to his vision will only make it harder to get Damian stable.

“Okay.” Damian replies, voice remarkably steady.

Now aware that someone he trusts is going to make it all better, Damian promptly passes out.

“Shit.” Dick says, young ears now unable to hear him. “Shit shit shit shit shit. Fuck.”

He swears to his heart's content for the rest of the ride back to the manor and it does very little to make him feel any better.

No, the swirling sea of worry-guilt-anguish in his stomach only begins to abate at the sight of Alfred in the bat cave, perfectly calm and with all the necessary medical supplies ready. They get Damian to a bed and Dick tries to make himself useful as Alfred treats the bullet wound.

He isn’t particularly useful and spends most of his time fretting.

“He’ll be fine, Master dick.” Alfred says once he’s finished up and washing the blood from where it had stained his skin.

“Of course he will.” Dick replies, attempting to sound a little more nonchalant than he actually is. From the look Alfred gives him he doesn’t think he succeeds.

He’s spared the indignity of having to say anything else by the rumble of Tim’s motorbike pulling into the cave. Tim gets off with an urgency Dick isn’t sure he expected and when he takes his domino off there’s genuine worry in the frown between his eyes.

“Is he okay?” he asks, his tone frantic.

“He’ll be fine.” Dick's grateful to find that his voice is far more level now than it was ten minutes ago.

Tim tilts his head to the side, looking at Dick. His expression narrows into something slightly more analytical than concern. “Are you okay?”

Dick tries to say yes. He really does. He's Tim’s big brother, he’s Batman. Of course he can tell his little brother that he’s okay. But after a moment of silence Dick glances towards where Damian lies far too still on their operating table and feels the tears he's been fighting off resurface in his eyes.

Tim nods as if this is confirming something. “Come on.” He says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dick tries to protest that Damian needs someone to be here when he wakes up but Tim just continues to pull him gently out of the cave.

“He’s going to be out for the next few hours. I can make you hot chocolate in the meantime.”

Dick wants to keep protesting but he’s been left tired and weak by the nights events. He allows himself to slump as his little brother leads him out of the darkness.

Dick talks. Significantly more than he had intended to.

He talks about how he can’t balance this awful dichotomy of guardian and commander. He talks about how he’s still not entirely sure how to be Batman, let alone a parent. He talks about how he can’t keep doing this without something breaking.

Probably him. Possibly Damian. Both answers are unacceptable.

“I’ll to fix this” Tim says. The determination in his expression reminds Dick of when he came to his bludhaven apartment all those years ago and demanded Dick reprise his roll as Robin. “I’m going to make a call, we’ll sort this out.” he promises.

Tim’s always been good at that. Tugging on the fraying strings of their family tapestry until it resembles something whole. It’s how he came into the family in the first place and Dick has always been grateful for that.

Tim leaves, already dialing a number into his phone with a look of intense concentration. Dick wants to go check on Damian but Alfreds got that handled so it’s not like he’ll actually help. Sitting idle at the boys bedside will probably just make him feel worse.

So Dick hangs his head and waits for someone to save him.

“Give me a lift to the airport?” Tim asks far too sweetly. The tone of voice doesn’t suit him.

“You can drive.” Dick points out, suspicious.

Tim gives him a look, like Dick's being difficult on purpose. “It’ll be a bonding opportunity.” he says, his tone lowering to something closer to his usual cadence. Dick still feels suspicious but there’s a million things he has to do today that are more important than arguing with his only sane brother, so he nods. Tim grins in response and gets up with a lot more energy than he tends to these days.

Dick decides that there’s little use in thinking on it more. He’s in charge of far too many things at the moment, he’ll let Tim control this one.

Cass appears in the collection area, suitcase in hand, and Dick feels the weight of the world become significantly lighter.

She's more muscled than she was when she left. Her footsteps are more confident. It makes pride rise in Dick's throat as he realises how brave his little sister is for growing so much all by herself.

She picks up her pace once Tim and Dick are in view, almost breaking into a jog as she approaches. She wraps an arm around each of them and Dick can feel her smile pressing against his cheek.

Dick realises that his own smile is pressing against Cass’s cheek. His chin is somehow resting in Tim’s hair.

He savours the moment and feels more full than he has in a long time.

“Welcome home.” He says into Cass’s neck. He feels her smile even wider in response.

That night as Dick is about to go on patrol Cass taps his shoulder.

“I can do it.” she says, pointing at the Batman suit Dick had been about to start putting on.

Dick frowns, pushing away the golden hope bleeding into the edges of his soul. “It won’t fit.” he says.

Cass shrugs. “I won’t wear it. But I can do it.”

Dick feels his frown deepen. Cass is younger than him and she hasn’t been in Gotham for so long. It’s not a good idea for her to take on the mantle. She’s already got far too much weighing her down without adding another impossible burden for her to bear.

Dick looks past Cass for a second to allow his eyes to rest on Tim, busying himself with sorting his own gear out but none too subtly watching the exchange between Dick and Cass. He gives a slight nod. An endorsement. Dick looks back to Cass who is smiling very gently at his indecision.

“Okay.” he says, and the room releases a sigh of relief.

Cass has been Batman every night since she got back a week ago and Dick hasn’t felt this light since Bruce died.

She was always the best fighter out of them. Always a little faster, a little more cutting, than any of her brothers. She isn’t as used to the detective aspect of things but she's surrounded by enough people trained in that aspect of the job that it isn’t a problem. Dick wears the Nightwing suit and flies higher than he has in months. Damian tends to work with Cass, Batman needs a Robin after all, but will pop up on Dick's patrols with silent requests for ice cream and a shoulder to lean on.

Cass can be Damian's Batman. Dick can be his guardian. It was always too much to ask of Bruce, for him to be both. For him to be their teacher and their hero and their father. Splitting the load seems to be going far better than anything Bruce used to try.

Sometimes Dick will catch Tim smiling at him the same way he does at a problem just solved. He wants to say thank you. Thank you for letting me outrun that awful burden for a little longer. Thank you for saving me. But he supposes that’s just what brothers are for.

Instead he asks Tim if he wants to go train surfing. They haven’t since before Bruce died. Dick was far too busy trying to keep the world from collapsing in on itself and Tim was too busy trying to find a way to stop Dick from crumbling under the pressure of it.

“Yeah.” Tim says, his smile twisting and morphing until it goes from analytical to soft and relieved. “Yeah I’d like that.”

"Do you miss him?" Damian asks one day. Dick doesn't need any clarification on who he's talking about.

The two of them are sat on a rooftop, legs swinging over the side. Damian is holding a rum and raisin ice cream Dick had pressed firmly into his hand. Dick decided a while ago that Damian should be offered the opportunity to try all the flavours he missed out on in the earlier part of his childhood and he thinks they're making some pretty good progress.

Dick considers for a moment. It's a complicated question. "Yes," he starts, because of course he does, "But it doesn't hurt like it used to. Not now that I can focus on being myself instead of squeezing myself into the shape of the person I'm mourning. And you?"

"Yes." Damian starts, because of course he does. He pauses for longer than Dick did but that makes sense. Damian's thoughts are complicated enough that Dick can't help but be proud of the kid for being able to untangle even a few of them. "But I know a lot of people who've died. And at least this time I gained what I came searching for regardless of what happened to Father."

It's not a thank you. Dick knows that it's going to take a little more time for Damian to learn how to shape his mouth into those words. But it's a start.

Dick looks at all the life surrounding him and smiles.

#dick grayson #damain wayne #nightwing #batman #writing #dc #tim drake #cassandra cain #cass cain #i have not posted anything in AGES #exams murdered me but i'm back #(until resits)#also i just put this in a word counter and I did not realise how long this was #au where tim doesn't bring bruce back

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myinconnelly1 · 3 years

Text

The Omega’s Curse 4 (final)

Square Filled: one character worrying anxiously about another Ship: Geralt x OFC Rating : Explicit A/N: This is Part 3 of the Omega’s Curse By popular demand (like 3 people) Warnings: 18+ NSFW, a/b/o dynamics, canon violence canon gore, purposeful scaring, branding (kinda), unplanned pregnancy, non-graphic labor, labor complications Summary: When a sheep farmer thinks his daughter is cursed, he pays the Witcher to help. Word Count: 1346 Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo.

Special thanks to @firefly-graphics for the Witcher themed Dividers!! Check her out the stuff is amazing!

It took 3 days to sort everything out with the sheepherder. Sharra seemed to recover from the wounds quickly, the magic aiding in the healing and scarring of the glyph. Geralt spent some time with Sharra explaining that the Ifrit was trapped in her skin, but was likely not to fight back since she was an omega. He had heard of something like this happen once before and the Omega lived a full and happy life.

“A life that I hope you can have back,” Geralt said before standing and taking the coin bag from Sharra’s father. “Sorry about the chickens,” Geralt said to the man as Sharra snorted and the Witcher left to get Roach splitting paths from the bard.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called as he saw the Witcher on the road several months later.

“Jaskier, who have you pissed off this time?” Geralt smiled at the bard as he continued to walk, mostly uninterested.

“Not me pissing people off this time,” Jaskier almost bragged. “I thought you made a point to not go through the same towns?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been through here. I’m sure they won’t mind me passing on,” Geralt shrugged.

“Oh, it’s been a while alright. Actually, I was on my way to find you with some interesting news I gathered,” The bard dangled the gossip in front of Geralt like a carrot.

“I am not interested in the gossip of your high light dandies and rich ladies,” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Oh no! This is not about my life or the people that I spend time with. Actually, it involves a very pretty Omega girl and a curse… Do you know anyone like that?” Jaskier was literally shaking as he attempted to hold the news in. Geralt gave in.

“Alright, yes. Sharra, what about her?” Geralt asked.

“OH, You remember her name?!” The bard almost jumped up and down with excitement. “Well, I heard that a certain Omega was with child.” Geralt looked at Jaskier with a pained and dirty look. “And she is due any day now,” The bard wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m sure she and the Butcher are quite happy then,” Geralt growled lowly. He didn’t know why he was so jealous about the entire thing.

“No, the Butcher moved to a different town,” Jaskier side-eyed him. “There seemed to be quite a scandal when he tried to offer to buy her with a cow and no chickens?”

“I hope there is a point to all of this, Bard,” Geralt’s patience with games was at an end. His feelings for the Omega being brought back up to the surface. Feelings he could not acknowledge because Witcher’s weren’t good mates.

“She’s having your pup?” Jaskier had stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the witcher. “Are you that dense?”

“Witcher’s can’t have children,” Geralt said with a deep-seated anger.

“Sure. Geralt, you should go there. Just see her,” Jaskier said quietly.

“Fine,” Geralt growled. “Fuck.”

“This village was much more pleasant without you,” Jaskier whispered as they met the cold and angry stares of the town-folk.

“I imagine,” Geralt said as he stabled Roach. “I’m looking for Sharra, has she moved from her parent’s house?” He asked the stable boy. He seemed unable to speak to the witcher and simply pointed out of the barn to a house that was several houses away.

“How long ago were you here?” Geralt asked as he walked with Jaskier toward the house.

“It was several days ago,” Jaskier said as they got close and saw the sign for the town’s midwife. Two young boys were playing in front of the house.

“Is your mother here?” Geralt asked the older boy holding up a small coin. The boy ran over to him to take it.

“She is busy with Sharra,” the boy said inspecting the coin closely. “You can’t go in. No boys allowed,” He said nodding to the other boy he was playing with. A cry came from inside the house as if on cue. Geralt restrained himself from rushing in to help his omega.

A thought occurred to him as the impulse to run to her side passed. He brushed off the notion that she was his omega. He hadn’t thought that before when they had fucked.

“Let’s get a drink. We can wait them out,” Jaskier pulled at Geralt’s arm subtly, and the Witcher noticed he had taken a rather aggressive stance.

“Witcher!?” An older man called as he walked into the bar. Several people turned to look at the scene, as the sheepherder came over to the table Geralt and Jaskier were sitting at. “You’ve killed my daughter, Witcher.”

“She was alive and well when we left,” Jaskier said standing defensively for Geralt.

“The child you left in my daughter’s belly won’t come. She’s been at it for almost two days. The midwife says it’s likely neither of them will survive,” Tears were flooding the older alpha’s eyes.

“It’s not my child,” Geralt sighed.

“HORSESHIT!” Sharra’s father roared. “The butcher rejected her when she was well enough to visit him again. She was already pregnant, and you know better than anyone else here that she was a virgin before you came to town.”

“I saved her life,” Geralt said uncomfortably calm.

“The child trapped in her belly is proof otherwise!” The sheepherder cried.

“Trap…” Geralt mused as Jaskier shot him a look that told them they both understood.

Geralt stood and pushed past everyone in the bar running back to the midwife’s home. Jaskier was slower getting past people but he was close behind.

“Look out, boy!” Geralt called as the young boy they had talked to earlier dodged to the side of the crazed looking Witcher. Sharra’s hoarse cries were still coming from inside the house, and Geralt followed them.

“Wait?!” Jaskier cried out as he saw Geralt pull out his dagger when he entered the room that Sharra was in.

“Geralt?” She panted. Her hair was wet with sweat and her clothing was mostly removed to make her as comfortable as possible. The scars on her belly were clearly visible. Geralt caressed her cheek, as Jaskier blocked the midwife from stopping Geralt. The Witcher cut a shallow line through his glyph carefully.

Energy surged threw the house in a tidal wave-like surge knocking everyone back, before reforming into the smoky, monstrous Ifrit. Sharra yelped in surprise as her water broke, and the midwife coached her saying something about seeing the child’s head. Jaskier got back up from the ground and saw the Witcher get the Ifrit’s attention to take it away from the women.

“Stay here and guard the door,” Geralt said to Jaskier as he led the monster away from Sharra.

“WITCHER!” The monster’s fire-crackle of a screech roared across the field in front of the midwife’s home. The boys scattered to hide as Geralt readied himself to fight it. “SHE’S MINE!”

“You won’t touch her again,” Geralt growled. “She’s mine,” he said without a second thought. Then fought the monster.

“Alpha!” Sharra whined just as Geralt’s silver blade plunged through the smoke and it dissipated. He ran back inside to his mate.

“I’m here,” He cooed comfortingly as he knelt next to her. Jaskier came over with the midwife and he clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“It’s a boy,” The midwife smiled in an exhausted yet genuine smile as she handed a small bundle to Sharra.

“What should we name your son, Witcher?” Sharra sighed looking at the babe with relief.

“You choose. You did all the hard work,” Geralt teased her. Jaskier stood and walked to the doorway.

“I shall write this beautiful chapter, and no one will believe it,” Jaskier pouted.

“Why not?” Sharra giggled tiredly, looking over the dramatic bard.

“No one will believe the White Wolf has a child! Besides, I’m not sure fatherhood would suit you Geralt,” he teased in mock disinterest.

“I think it would suit me just fine. If you’ll have me,” Geralt hummed against his mate's forehead.

@waywardbaby @destielhoneybee @snffbeebee @deangirl7695 @spnbaby-67 @maddiepants @ladywinchester1967 @woodworthti666 @miraclesoflove @tumbler-tidbits @emilyshurley @akshi8278 @mannls @wendibird @bobasheebaby @chelsea072498 @donnaintx @justsomedreaming @supernaturalenchanted @kalesrebellion @prettydeaneyes @emoryhemsworth @dontshootmespence @its-a-spn-thing @vicmc624 @idreamofplaid @anaelsbrunette @winchesterxfamilybusiness @kickingitwithkirk @wayward-mikaelson @electraphyng @mariekoukie6661 @katelynw93 @manawhaat @mrswhozeewhatsis

#the Witcher #geralt of rivia #anyfandomgoes2020 #any fandom goes bingo #one character worrying anxiously about another #18+#canon violence #canon gore #geralt x ofc #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!geralt #omega!ofc #jaskier #jaskier the bard #beta!Jaskier #infrit #childbirth #unplanned pregnancy

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notalotgoingonatthisinstant · 3 years

Text

Turning on the Right Street

Juke Sunday bliss, as I usually seem to bring, only this time a bit more angsty than usual.

Find it on AO3 or read on ahead!

Rating: T.

Word count: 2111.

Summary: Her phantoms were backed against a wall again, only this time they had a plan. They had a chance. Said plan would either erase them from existence or bring them back to the land of the living. It really could go either way in the next 24 hours. So, after a charged day with them, Julie retires to her room with Luke, to soak in each other's presence for what could be the last time. Only neither one of them is emotionally stable to keep up with their unspoken rule of not speaking out their feelings, and close is never close enough when she's about to potentially lose her soulmate.

The cliché saying about the stars in someone’s eyes had never hit as close to home as right now. Julie didn’t know how it was possible, because it was past eleven, all her bedroom’s lights were out, and the shades were draped over the windows. By all means, she shouldn’t be able to make out the stars in Luke’s eyes so easily, but there they were. Shining for her.

The silence between them was charged, even if their nerves had calmed down a little over the past hour that they had spent there. It had been a day full of uncomfortable flutters in her stomach, skipping beats of her heart, and many tears, even though she was trying to be strong for her boys. Her boys, who were backed up against a wall again, only this time they had enough information to come up with an insane plan.

Said plan would either erase them from existence or bring them back to the land of the living. It really could go either way in the next 24 hours.

Her body shuttered with another shaky breath, and Luke’s hand flexed on hers as he shushed her. “Please don’t cry.”

“I could tell you the same.” Because now Julie knew why she could see stars in his eyes in the dark, and it was due to his own unshed tears.

Luke squeezed her hands again in their place between their necks, his head on the pillow next to her, so close that she couldn’t quite get her eyes to focus on his features.

Another long moment of silence where they just took each other in. Her left arm was going numb from lying on it for an hour, but she still didn’t move or let go of his hands. Her knees brushed the top of his under the covers, sliding over of his thighs in her attempt to get closer.

He moved his right hand, still intertwined with hers, and touched his fingers to the small patch of her cheek not blocked by the pillow. When he spoke, his voice was a little more than a whisper, soft and open like it had been all evening. “Can I tell you something?”

Instantly, her eyes welled up again, her throat constricting. “It’ll make me cry.”

“Probably.”

“I thought we’d agreed…”

Long ago, they had silently agreed. They didn’t deny the connection and the attraction, but they were realistic. They had kept their relationship unlabeled and limited – songwriting sessions, cuddling, casual touches, kisses on cheeks, foreheads, hands, but never lips. Never anything that would start crossing the line they knew they wouldn’t have the strength to come back from.

Never hands on thighs for too long, not after Julie had felt the muscles there and the intimacy that came with keeping her hand there during band meeting. It had hurt more to pull away than to keep herself from doing it again.

Never hugging her from behind with a kiss to the neck, not after Luke hadn’t been able to stop kissing her neck and pressing his body to her until they were breathless. It had been harder to restrain themselves from chasing that feeling again once they had a taste of it.

Never using pet names, not after Luke’s C’mon, baby, just one more time, encouraging her to play their newest song again, and Julie’s Honey, that’s not– Here, teaching him piano. It had felt too intimate, too domestic, too right. It had felt like labeling it, and they couldn’t handle that.

Never purposeful sleepovers (accidental ones had happened). Never hands lingering on each other’s faces (more than once a week). Never writing too cheesy of a love song (explicitly).

Never actually putting their feelings into words.

“I know,” Luke said. “But all we’ve got is right now, and I don’t wanna leave things unsaid. Not again, and especially not with you.”

It felt like a stab to her heart, the reminder that he might be gone for good tomorrow. A stab with a thick, burning hot blade, with thorns on the sides that ripped her chest open fragment by fragment, inch by inch.

In spite of her pain, the side of Luke’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. “Remember the first time you walked through me? In your kitchen?”

“When you gave me Bright.”

Her instant and sure answer seemed to build his confidence, although it dimmed again two seconds later. His left thumb ran over her hand anxiously. She felt like he might avert his eyes, but neither of them was willing to do that.

“It might be stupid,” Luke started, “and you can call me crazy – Shit, I’ve been calling myself crazy over this for months. But I felt something. When you walked through me. It was like…” He scrunched up his face in thought. “It’s not déjà vu, exactly. But it felt like… not like I knew you already, but like – like I knew that I needed to get to know you, because there was something there. It felt like… like I was close to coming home. Like I had turned on the right street and home was still out of sight, but two blocks away, and all I needed to do was… keep going.”

And maybe he was going to say more, but Julie felt his burning need to get his meaning across and his frustration at stumbling over words and analogies, when she already knew what he was talking about.

“Me too,” she whispered in the air between them. “Like turning on the right street.”

That only seemed to cement something in him, and he grew a bit more agitated. For the past hour that they had lain there, side by side in the dark, his usual electric energy had dimmed to soft strokes and unwavering gazes. Now, it was picking up again, although still contained to their peaceful bubble.

Luke continued, “I don’t know if it’s a thing, but the universe’s insane enough that I don’t doubt it. I can’t explain most of the shit that’s happened to me, especially when it comes to you. The impossible odds of meeting you. The connection. The…” he faltered for a moment, swallowing dry. Words floated around the tip of his tongue, never forming in any way that she could understand.

Then something in his eyes changed. His demeanor changed. Julie’s heart beat out of her chest at the intensity she found in his gaze, his hand squeezing hers as if to ground himself, and she knew something was coming. That was him dropping the pretense completely.

With a shaky exhale, which relaxed his suddenly tense muscles, and a surrendering, one-shoulder shrug, Luke said, “You’re my soulmate, Jules. There isn’t anyone else who’s a better match for me, and my soul doesn’t want anyone else.”

The stars in his eyes burned brighter, either from his confession or from more unshed tears, and Julie scooted forward until their foreheads were almost touching. With a slight turn of her head, she kissed his fingers that had been brushing her cheek all this time, noticing how much they trembled, and connected their gazes again. “I don’t think it’s crazy.”

Julie couldn’t fault him for the unshed tears or the trembling hands, because she was right there with him. Oversensitive emotions that were ready to burst at the slightest touch of his fingers or words from his lips. It felt like they were standing together on a tightrope over an inconceivable cliff, and only she was wearing the security gear.

That mental image was a bit too much for her, and suddenly the panic was back. She had been fighting with all her might not to break down (too much) in the boys’ presence during the whole day, and now with Luke, because she didn’t want to spend their time together crying, but it felt overwhelming all of a sudden.

A fist squeezing her heart. A cold blade in her stomach. A sob in her throat.

“I love you,” slipped out of her, although she in no way regretted it.

At that, Luke squeezed his eyes shut. The fingers hovering near her mouth pushed their way under her cheek to cup it properly, and he gripped her hand, pulling it close to his chest. Julie moved again, scooting even closer, her knees bumping his, her now free hand over his shirt. It was unnerving how she couldn’t feel his breath on her face.

She nudged his nose with hers. “I love you.”

Luke curled in again, his hand on her cheek pulling her so their foreheads rested against one another, his nose slipping in next to hers – the closest their lips they had ever been.

Finally, he opened his eyes. “God, Julie. I love you. So much. You gotta know that.” He sounded nearly desperate.

“I know, I know,” she assured him, hand slipping from his grip to caress his cheek.

It was harder to keep the tears at bay now, with their words out in the open. It brought to the surface the feeling of unfairness, of why couldn’t we have met under normal circumstances, of I need to keep you with me. Because she needed him with her.

At her first sob, the roles reversed immediately, and Luke was the one shushing her and caressing her. While he stroked her left cheek and whispered sweet nothings into her right one, his left hand found her waist. His knees straightened out, allowing him to pull her by her hip into him. It still wasn’t enough. Julie didn’t know if anything would ever be enough. Tonight wasn’t, and maybe a lifetime still wouldn’t be. His hands on her, his lips against the corner of her mouth telling her he loved her… just not enough.

Julie threw away any embarrassment she might have had about their current position – about being in bed with him, under the covers, alone, behind closed doors – and released the reigns on her body that had held him at a figurative arms’ length away for far too long.

Instinctively, her leg draped over his. The hand on her hip squeezed, running down her backside naturally as if he had done that a hundred times before instead of it being the first time he touched her in a such an intimate way. As soon as it was over the swell, he put pressure on the back of her thigh and nudged her leg to hook on his waist. It allowed their abdomens to press together, bringing their chests with them. And it still wasn’t enough.

Their foreheads weren’t touching anymore – they had been forced apart by the angle their necks had been put in when the rest of their bodies met, so now her nose brushed his upper lip. Sobs still threatened to leave her throat in an attempt to hold together her breaking heart, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t thinking anymore. She just tilted an inch up at the same time that Luke tilted an inch down and their mouths met without any effort.

Luke’s hand slipped from her cheek, this time worming its way under her neck, fighting against her wild hair until it came up on the other side. Then his arm was under her as her new pillow and around her to kill any space between them. As he kissed her, he hugged her fully – arm around her shoulders and an arm around her waist, tense forearms crossing on her back. Julie held him with the same despair, arm around his shoulders and hand anchored on the back of his neck. Pulling closer.

She needed him closer.

It was only when Luke realized that she was gradually rolling him on top of her that he pulled a hair-width away. It made a smacking sound that the back of Julie’s head worried if her family had been able to hear.

“Jules…”

But she was already shaking her head. “I won’t be able to sleep. And I can’t go with you, so it doesn’t even matter. If we just stay here, we’re gonna talk, and I’m gonna cry. I don’t wanna spend this time I have with you crying, Luke. I’ll have time to cry later. I just want to…” Make up for all the times we didn’t allow ourselves to drown in this. “I just wanna let myself feel. I wanna let myself drown in you for once.”

The words hit home in his eyes, shining in the dark, and a breathless, incredulous chuckle left his lips. “God, please, universe, let me keep you.” And he dove back into her.

The line was officially and consciously crossed.

#juke #juke fic #julie molina #luke patterson #jukebox #jukebox fic #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fic #my fics

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nelliebrookstone · 3 years

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( BRIANNE HOWEY, 29, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER ) * hey, i’m looking for the office of ELEANOR ‘NELL’ BROOKSTONE. they’re the EMPLOYEE who’s known around the office as THE BURN BOOK, if that helps ? not to be a gossip, but i’ve heard that they’re SUPPORTIVE but PETTY, is that true ? i also heard that they’re the one who CRIED IN THE BATHROOM BECAUSE SOMEONE TOOK HER YOGURT. anyways, here’s the coffee they ordered.

Greetings Earthlings, my name is Asha I am simply a fellow human from planet earth looking to hang out with my cool friends at the Build-A-Bear. I’m excited to be here! I have more information on Eleanor (nellie if you know here, nell if you don’t) below the cut! If you give this a lil like I’ll slide into your exclusive tumblr DMs to plot!

So, who is Nell? Well let me tell you. As far as most people know, Nell is a former Masters Model turned Head of Talent Management for models. She’s a mix of sweet Alabama charm and scary dead smile energy, and she always has a compact for you to borrow in her purse. Most people know she always has a perfect french manicure and knows most people by first name. You might also know she recently divorced Parker and is no longer using his last name, please do not call her Mrs. Carson she’ll cry in the bathroom and then leave you a bad yelp review. You’re not even on yelp, you say? She’ll make one for you and then leave a bad review.

But like a curated Insta, this ain’t it folks. So buckle up. (I say this dramatically but tbh she has had a pretty stable life)

Nellie grew up in a smallish town in Alabama. If you ask her, it wasn’t small at all. But it certainly was compared to large city centers, and definitely compared to New York. It was the kind of town where everyone knew your business, and Nellie had a lot of business.

She was a teen queen! Head cheerleader, student president, shining volunteer of the county and Lady Alabama of 2010 (not to be confused with Miss Alabama, but if you ask her it’s basically the same thing). She was very involved in her community and her parents were well known in the area for their construction company. Everyone loved her that she was like the golden child of the town.

It was a great, privileged life! Her parents got married young, had a bunch of kids, and had the means to care for them! Her parents also have a very genuine love story, still passionate about each other years later. She and her sisters (all five of them) have always wanted a life like their parents’.

The one difference between her and her parents remained her desire to roam and see the world. She wanted to travel, or at least live in a place where she could meet new people from new places. Moving to New York seemed like a great place to get some experience, though if you ask her mother she probably got the idea from some dumb TV show. She did. It was a lot of shows. And a lot of movies. There were a ton of romantic comedies that TRULY shaped this desire.

she started sending in applications to various schools in New York. She was an honor list student with a lot of extra-circulars and passion to be at these places that shown through on all her apps. She got many a rejection, the one from Columbia was the hardest. It was the worst thing that ever happened to her at the time, so you can imagine how her life must have been.

She DID get accepted to NYU for Public Relations! CHEERS ALL AROUND! She was so excited. She was gonna see the world and be a big city bitch 10/10. In college, she was quickly involved in everything from various clubs, to sorority, to trying to get involved with the community. It didn’t work out as well. New York was just such a different town...in that it was...big. And she wasn’t used to that.

But she did meet a funky guy named Parker Carson! And they fell in love! And here is a short synopsis of their relationship:

they met at a department store. Parker looked a little lost in the dress shirt area so she helped him pick out an outfit and the rest was, as they say, history.

they had a great relationship at first, full of love and passion and fun times. he had a pokemon tattoo, she used to play pokemon snap. what a team!

but really, they had a great time together...which led them to get married real early. In fact, for Nell, this was even a little late. She thought she’d be married with kids by 23.

a lot of little things led to their downfall, but it can be boiled down to not fully understanding what it takes to live with another person who doesn’t mesh with your lifestyle. A big issue for Nell was kids. She wanted them, right then and there. He didn’t! No one’s fault, but it seemed to be a block they couldn’t get over.

they’re divorced now. it’s fresh. she’s got a lot of conflicts about it. She cannot believe she is divorced before 30. she cannot believe she doesn’t have kids by now. She is under the impression she’s run out of time for everything, which is not true at all but it’s how she feels. She’s none too fond of the man at the moment.

But listen! Nellie is a fun girl! She’s got a lot of ~zest~ for life and likes to do new things and try new places. She’s also just as comfortable spending the day at home on the couch with everything she needs within arms reach. She seems like someone who would be into partying but that’s really not her scene. She’s a brunch girl, a drive-thru movie theater girl, and an all-day 90 day fiance girl. She has an addiction to cherry cokes and always misses her stop on the subway because she gets distracted listening to her music and zoning out. She cries a lot during sad AND happy movies and can’t eat pork because she once knew a pig named Babe (no relation to the famous babe). Her favorite animal is the octopus and she volunteers with the homeless shelter every weekend.

All of this doesn’t really come across in her work persona. She always seems like she’s extremely put together and very good at what she does. She’s quick, snappy, and not afraid to speak her mind. She’s a master at the backhanded compliment and is the master of the delayed burn (you won’t know you’ve been roasted until she’s down the hallway). She has a very charming way of speaking with a thick southern accent and tons of sayings that no one knows the meaning of, but sometimes that Nice Southern Girl smile comes out and you know she would be stabbing you if such an act were socially acceptable. Despite this, Nellie doesn’t think she’s a mean person.

But I’m sure there are MANY people who think she is. Because...sometimes she is! No one is perfect, and she definitely has a reputation of being a major pain in the ass if you’re on her bad side. Nell remembers EVERY slight against her. Oh, she remembers when you commented on the amount of emails she sends. She remembers when you mentioned that you thought her font type was a little too bold. She remembers it all...and stores it in her mental burn book.

This also happens often because she is...pretty sensitive. And because she’s going through a divorce, which is NOT what she had planned for in life, she’s like a stubbed toe away from a full cry every day. She’s started to invest in waterproof mascara but it’s not working out. She really DID cry in the bathroom over her yogurt. She also came back the next day and wrote a VERY angry letter on the fridge titled ‘to the person who likes to take things that don’t belong to them, I hope your mother knows she raised a THIEF.’

As petty as she can be, she’s also a great person to have in your corner. If you’re a friend, she will fight for you to the end. She’s very loyal and will often drop whatever she’s doing if you need her. She can be very generous, no expenses spared to lift up someone she loves. If you’re a friend of hers, she’s a great friend. The kind you can call at 2 am when she’s dead asleep and she’ll still come help you move out of your shitty ex’s apartment.

Basically, Nell is a whole lot of things. Not all of them are great. But she likes to think of herself as a good person that cares about other people. She generally is! She’s also fairly good at having heart to heart conversations, and isn’t afraid to own her mistakes if she’s not still upset about the issue. But she’ll also try to ruin your career if you steal her yogurt. Fun!

I’ll add more as I think of it, but for now I’m here for all the plots. Best friends, enemies, the person who caught her crying in the bathroom, the person who caught her angrily scribbling her name on all her yogurt, you name it!

#masters.intro #oh man this is a mess I'm not cool enough for intros

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