#request 2277
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Cozy: A Shadowgast Fan Fic Rec List
Stay for a Spell by Palebluedot (2277, Explicit)
Warnings: None
Caleb and Essek decide to have a lazy morning in and have sex with each other. Essek gets eaten out, then gets penetrated vaginally by Caleb.
Reccer says: It's very sweet and cozy, the love portrayed between Caleb and Essek is very comfortable and kind.
The Acknowledgment of Certain Traditions by RainyDayDecaf (568, General)
Warnings: None
Essek makes Caleb breakfast the morning after their first time having sex.
Reccer says: It's really cute! Essek is very earnest and tentative and it is very sweet to see him making the effort to be kind to Caleb.
my home in you by vagabondfirelily (1103, General)
Warnings: None
In the middle of the night, Essek comes home to see Caleb.
Reccer says: It's sweet and soft.
Series of Smaller Adventures by 2manyboys (3576, Teen)
Warnings: None
In winter, Caleb returns home from a day to work and catches up with Essek. The one with Marie Kondo.
Reccer says: Nothing
Creature Comforts by mousecookie (4645, Teen)
Warnings: None
Caleb likes to polymorph into a cat sometimes, and is far less reserved about requesting cuddles in that form.
Reccer says: It is very soft and sweet. A quiet comfort for weary adventurers in need of cuddles
in the indigo by SaltCore (1076, General)
Warnings: None
Essek lies awake in bed, contemplating a sleeping Caleb.
Reccer says: It's extremely sweet and methodical, like a gratitude meditation.
In Our Hearts It's Warm by bluebirdsongs (23188, Teen)
Warnings: None
Caleb wants to share his Zemnian holiday traditions with the most important person in his life. What will Essek think of these things that Caleb holds so dearly in his heart?
Reccer says: It radiates blinding love. This fic is a slow dance with your head on a loved one’s shoulder, whispering and giggling to each other.
warm inside (with) you by flammablehat (2023, Explicit)
Warnings: Inherent consent issues rising from somnophilia
Caleb has sex with a sleeping Essek, safe in their conjured tower.
Reccer says: The fic is very hot and very sweet. Its coziness comes from how syrupy and languid the sex is between the wizards, necessarily because of the somnophilia aspect of it.
hold me down, hold me true by lakisrot (12600, Explicit)
Warnings: Warning for allusions to gore and blood from a violent encounter (nothing happens on-screen).
Essek, frazzled and traumatized by a recent violent run-in, gets forcibly cared-for by Caleb, ft. warm baths and love confessions
Reccer says: The culmination of longing and yearning between the both of them in the confession scene is probably my favorite SG confession of all time. Maybe my favorite confession ever. It's incredible. And the smut afterwards????????? oh my god.
a moment's silence (when my baby puts the mouth on me) by goldengrahams (4782, Explicit)
Warnings: None
Essek and Caleb have sex while Essek encourages Caleb not to silence his pleasure.
Reccer says: Hot, sweet, morning sex between two men in love.
path of the traveled sun by mousecookie (6008, General)
Warnings: None
Post-canon, Verin comes to a party at Essek's invitation, curious and hoping to reconnect - and is completely unprepared for how much Essek has changed
Reccer says: Nothing
Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fan fic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast.
Next weeks theme is "Getting Nerdy About Magic", so stay tuned!
Special thanks to Operafloozy and Professor_Rye for running the event!
#Critical role#Shadowgast#fan fiction#fan fiction rec list#Essek Thelyss#Caleb Widogast#Cozy fan fiction#Aeor is for lovers
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Awakened
Hi there! If you're still accepting requests, can I bls get some kick-in-the-balls sobbing-on-the-floor Virgil centric angst bls and thanks? Love all that you do – anon
Read on Ao3
Warnings: major character death--roman dies but it is only a dream
Pairings: prinxiety, dukexiety, intruprinxiety, can be platonic or romantic you decide
Word Count: 2277
"Is it over?" Roman's voice sounded wet.
There was no color in his face anymore, none except the purple bruises under his eyes and the red along his mouth.
How fitting.
Virgil watched Roman collapse to his knees, spent and shaking, making not a sound. A blade glittered in the fiery red sunlight as it exited Roman's back. A final salute to the battle's glorious, gory end.
Virgil made his way towards the fallen hero until he loomed above his crumpled form.
"Yes," he said, "it's over."
"And did—did I—" Roman gurgled through blood-soaked breaths— "hurt you?"
They came strained, shallower.
Kneeling, Virgil focused on Roman's hands, unwrapping his fingers from his grip with deft, firm movements.
With one swift jerk, the blade slid free.
A river of blood followed, a pained gasp the only sound as Roman slumped forward. Virgil reached out and caught him before he hit the ground.
The light in Roman's eyes flickered and dimmed. For a fraction of a second, the two stared at each other—hero and villain, enemies, opposites, rivals—saying with their eyes what they never could with their lips.
Roman hiccupped once, twice. Virgil didn't move, not even as his knees grew damp with the blood pooling beneath them.
And then the light was gone.
"Yes," Virgil said after a while, "you hurt me."
He closed Roman's eyes and glanced at the sun rising higher over the horizon. He stood, staring at the corpse before him.
"More than you'll know."
Distantly, he could hear the sounds of his army. Assessing the wounded, counting the dead, searching for survivors. White flags began to gleam out of the corners of his eyes, the last few executions carried out with brutal efficiency.
No one dared approach him or his withering altar.
Slowly, with all the tenderness he could never have displayed before, he leaned down to take Roman's head in his hands.
"There is something that goes unsaid," he murmured as he brushed a trickle of blood from Roman's mouth, "about stage performers who play the dead."
The corpse in front of him was silent.
"People who play dead just look like they're asleep." He pulled the corpse closer, almost cradling it. "Dead people don't look like people, they look like things."
He bent closer, resting his forehead against cold—too cold—and damp skin.
"I don't want you to be a thing," he whispered, "you weren't supposed to be a thing."
For things could be kept, and while he had desperately wanted to tame the hero, force him to submit, have him yield, he never wanted to keep him. Roman was wild, feral at times, never something that could be caged lest some part of him that made him him would shatter irrevocably.
But the thought of letting someone else try set the skin under his armor boiling.
"Come on, then," he said, hefting the blood-soaked corpse into his arms, "you can't stay here."
The corpse was bulky, unforgiving. Plates of armor dug into Virgil's arms, the blood still leaking from the gaping wounds. The weight shifted unsteadily as he rose to his feet.
"Even in death," he chuckled, if it could be called a chuckle, "you have to be an inconvenience, don't you?"
The corpse's head lolled to the side.
Virgil began to walk, stepping over the remains and passing the results of some grisly duels. He paid no mind to the heat beginning to blister at his back, making his armor scorch. Instead, he focused on the solid weight in his arms and the dull thud, thud, thud, of his footsteps.
He paid no mind to the survivors who stopped to see them pass, a ghastly figure in blood-soaked armor with the corpse of the people's hope cradled in his arms. Their shadow lengthened as they neared the top of the hill, stretching far into the valley below.
"You would have loved the breeze," he whispered to the corpse, "it smells of wildflowers up here."
It didn't. It stunk of shit and blood and death. But it almost did.
A few stray blooms fell under his boots as he trudged onward into the valley.
The sun had yet to peek over the hill as he descended into the hills proper. The shadows fell across the corpse's face, oddly making it look flatter.
Less real.
"Come, now, don't look at me like that."
The corpse didn't move.
"Where's your boldness, hmm?" He ducked under a tree branch. "Didn't you claim to be unafraid of the dark when we were little?"
He blundered on, even as branches began to scratch at his face.
"You kept blowing out the candles. You said we'll never get anywhere in life if we kept being afraid of the dark. You said you'd be all the light we needed."
A deeper shadow passed over the corpse's face.
"How are you going to be light now? You can't even help me get through these trees. You're just lying there, making me carry you. Stop being such—such—"
What else can I be, said the corpse with vacant lips, but dead weight?
"Alright, just this once," Virgil muttered, hefting the corpse into his arms again, "but you can't expect me to just do everything myself."
He staggered up another hill, the sun beating down mercilessly. The weight made him collapse onto his knees, eyes still fixed helplessly on the corpse's face.
"This isn't fair." He squeezed the body. "You're the one who died."
Roman died. He was dead. He was dead.
"How is it that I'm the one hurting? You should be hurting. It's not fair. It's not fair."
He clutched the corpse's shoulders. The head lolled around uselessly, almost mocking him.
"Don't do that. You're not supposed to do that. You weren't supposed to do that."
Roman was dead.
"You were supposed to be the light," he cried out, voice beginning to rise, "how are you supposed to be the light when you're dead?"
The corpse said nothing.
"You can't have dark without light," he tried, fumbling to cradle the limp head in his hands, "see? You—you have to see, I can't—I can't—"
A lump formed in his throat.
"I can't do this alone," he whispered, voice cracking, "I can't—it was supposed to be the two of us."
Light and dark. As it always had been. As it always should be.
As it would never be again.
"Please," he mumbled, the rest of his armor forcing him to keel over, "please, I can't—don't leave me alone."
A lone shadow sat on the hill, a corpse in their lap, the scattered remains of their armor, still covered in blood, all about them. The sun glared down as they bowed their head.
"You were supposed to stop me," he whispered finally, reaching for the sword on his own belt, "but it wasn't supposed to be like this."
"Virgil! Virgil!"
Virgil shoots up in bed, chest burning. What—no—no, no, no—
"Virgil! Breathe, Emo, just breathe, it's okay, you were having a nightmare."
Roman's dead. Roman's dead, he killed Roman—
"In for four, remember? Come on, you can do it, just—oh, fuck, Virgil, calm down."
His armor—he grabs for his chest, his shoulders, anything—only for his fingers to meet soft cotton and buttons. He's not wearing armor. He's wearing pajamas. He's in bed.
"That's it, you're okay…"
It was a dream. It was a dream.
"Hey," the voice says as something soft touches his arm, "hey, Virgil? You with me?"
"Re-Remus?"
"Yeah, little monster, it's me." Remus's face swims into view and he waves, before making a concerned noise and reaching out to wipe Virgil's cheeks. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're safe, you're okay."
"I…why are you here?"
"I felt you having a nightmare, little monster, so I came to help."
"O-oh." He sniffles. "Uh, sorry if I woke you up. Shit, um—"
"Hey. Don't do that. It's okay, you're okay, it's—you wanna hug?"
"Please."
So Remus opens his arms and tucks him into an embrace and oh, where the fuck has this been all his life? Remus is soft and warm and smells kind of like the pond where he keeps his Kraken and it doesn't smell like death at all and shit, he's crying again.
"Shh, shh," Remus hums, rubbing his back, "you're okay, little monster, you're okay. I'm right here. It was just a nightmare. It's over now. You're safe, you're right here with me, I've got you."
Virgil sags into Remus and just cries. His chest still aches from breathing so hard and from the fear at waking up, thinking he'd murdered Roman. It's gross and messed up and why the fuck did he do that? He's—he's not mad at Roman, is he? He doesn't want Roman dead! He doesn't want any of that and he—he killed Roman and then he—he was going to—
"Stay with me," comes Remus's voice, "no drifting off again."
"So—" he hiccups— "sorry."
"It's okay, little monster. You cried out most of it?"
"Mhm." He leans back and Remus hands him a tissue. "Thanks."
"Sure. You, uh, you wanna talk about it?"
"…promise you won't get mad?"
"I'll tickle you if you start feeling bad about what your brain does when you can't control it," Remus threatens, "don't try me."
"Okay, okay, I just…" He blows his nose with a desolate honk. "I don't know why I had it."
"Most nightmares do that."
"I…it was…medieval times or something? Armor and sword fight times."
"Mhm. I got it."
"…I, um, I think—I was the bad guy."
Remus doesn't say anything, but he shifts close enough to cuddle one of Virgil's arms.
"And…Roman was the hero."
"Roro being mean to you again?"
"No!" Remus startles at the force of the shout. "No, no, he's—he's great, he didn't do anything, don't be mad at him, I promise, I—"
"Okay, okay, shh, I won't. Calm down, little monster, shh…"
He takes a few deep breaths. "Sorry."
"You're fine. I shouldn't have assumed." Remus gives him another tissue. "You wanna tell me more?"
No. No, he doesn't. What if Remus gets mad? What if he decides Virgil's awful? What if he—
Wriggling fingers poke his side and Virgil yelps.
"No spiraling," Remus scolds gently, wrapping him in another cuddle, "just talk to me if you want to."
Virgil sniffles. "I…we fought."
"Okay?"
"It was bad."
"I'm sorry, little monster."
"I…"
Remus is quiet, letting him finish. Virgil turns his head into the crook of Remus's shoulder and—and—
"I killed him," he whispers, "I killed him."
"Oh, Virgil…"
He's crying again. Remus hauls him up and nuzzles into his neck, making soft shushing noises and rubbing his back again.
"Shh, little monster, it's okay. Roro's okay. You didn't hurt anybody, everyone's okay."
"I know that, I just…"
"I know, I know." They sit there for a moment longer before Remus nudges him. "You wanna see Roman?"
"…isn't he asleep?"
Isn't he dead. lying on a hill, covered in his own blood?
"That's enough out of you," Remus growls against his temple before softening his voice, "that's not what I asked, little monster, do you wanna see him? I don't think he'd mind."
He does. He wants to know Roman's okay. He wants the feeling of carrying Roman's corpse in his arms to go away.
Remus reaches out and summons Roman.
"This better be good, Re, you woke me up for—"
The instant Roman sees Virgil in Remus's arms, still tear-stained and so, so small, he melts.
"Hey," he coos, coming over to the bed and taking Virgil's face in his hands, "hey, little storm cloud, what's wrong?"
Roman's thumbs brush his cheeks and he's so real, he's so warm, he's so alive that Virgil throws himself at him.
"Oof, hey, there, shadowling, you're okay, you got me, see? You're alright, shh, shh, it's okay. You're safe, shadowling, it's okay."
Roman is big and warm and safe and he can hear his heart thudding under his cheek and he's fine, he's safe, he's alive, he's alright. Remus must tell him what's going on because Roman lets out a noise of dismay, quickly shifting his grip until he's cuddling Virgil right up against his chest.
"Hey, baby, it's okay, I'm okay. I'm okay, see? You got me, I'm right here, I'm all good." He grins, big and goofy, right in Virgil's face and kisses his forehead. "I'm okay. It's all okay."
He keeps murmuring and crooning reassurances, kissing Virgil's cheeks and his nose and the top of his head. Remus cuddles up to his back, wrapping his arms around the both of them.
"R'man?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"You…good?"
"Yeah, shadowling, I'm all good. We're all safe."
"'M sorry, I—ah!"
"Remus," Roman scolds, pulling Virgil away from the fingers tickling across his sides, "not now!"
"Told him I'd tickle him if he started feeling bad about his brain doing things he couldn't control."
"Ah. I see. Well…"
"No," Virgil whines, "no tickles…"
"Then I guess you need to stop feeling bad about it," he teases gently, "it's okay, baby. You're okay."
Remus huffs but lets him be, carefully reminding them that they should sleep.
"Do you want us to stay?"
"Will you?"
"Of course, shadowling. Come on, let's lie down and go back to sleep, hm?"
Virgil doesn't let Roman out of his grasp for more than a moment, latching on again as soon as they're all under the covers. Roman just chuckles and pulls him close.
"You go on back to sleep, shadowling. I'm right here."
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#dragonbabbles#sanders sides#fic#virgil sanders#roman sanders#remus sanders#sympathetic remus#prinxiety
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Ok so this is less of a request and more of a thought to consider. It bothers me that Danse doesn’t really comment on vertibirds going down/crashing/finding dead brotherhood in the commonwealth. It also bothers me that Hancock doesn’t really say much during the synth quest in Diamond City. Idk I feel like there’s a lot of potential dialogue that’s missing. Like Preston commenting on a settlement that’s been “improved” (hit all requirements for water, food and defense) should also be a thing.
do you have any ideas for potential dialogue that’s missing from the game? Again, not a request so don’t feel like you need to write anything, but just a good for thought.
Titan quest!
I'm inspired by your non-request
What would improve Fallout at the level of dialogues? Yeah, I realize I can't put all I wanted because it would be monumental, and even if I wanted to make (somewhere) a monumental post, it would require a lot of effort to determine what could have been done for the companions and etc…
Knowing that Fallout 4, which contains some of the most fascinating and colorful companions in the franchise, has a major scenario gap, I wondered how to fill it, what struck me, and what was missing—and it's practically unlimited. Many authors have written fanfiction on dialogue-worthy situations.
Then, I drew a line of sorts
Thus, I suggest a conversation that would have suited each companions. Like the FEV request, this Titan Request requires partitioning to conquer. Like with the FEV, I'll try the unexpected too. You've already cited Hancock's silence on his brother, Danse when he witnesses Brotherhood forces being blasted out of the sky, and Preston's remark when he visits settlements, so I'll try to be creative elsewhere
Far Harbor remains delayed. In my Survival game, which I use to write fanfiction, I'm still waiting. Long Fellow isn't familiar enough to add
Here the part 1 (because tumblr didn't let me do more)
Dogmeat - Elder Maxson - Gage
Dogmeat : He's a dog; he doesn't speak, and he doesn't judge. Without mentioning dialogue per se and despite the fact that he is more of an anthologies than a companion, I've always believed he should have had his own quest. But I will not go there (sorry, lol, but time does not stretch to infinity, and if we do not wish to extend this topic to infinity, I must make a decision). Here, I will merely present a theory that has already appeared in one of my fanfictions.
"He was known as the Lone Wanderer. He, like Nora, came from a Vault, although he grew up in the shelter. He was motivated by the same desire to save everyone, which began with his father. And, like Nora, he had a dog."
MacCready's gaze shifts abruptly to the clinic. Dogmeat has been watching over the place since I returned his mistress. I'm not sure what Mac was staring at. He appears to have difficulties swallowing. The dog looks at him as if he understands something—whatever that is.
"Da... holy... aye!"
"What?"
"Are you kidding me? Dogmeat was the name of the Lone Wanderer's dog."
I paid closer attention to the dog. He yawns in our direction before lying down in the dry grass. I couldn't stop chuckling.
"How long ago was that?"
"Around the year 2277."
"So, it's possible."
The coincidences are striking, but occasionally happens inexplicable. We look away from the dog, who appears to be uninterested in us.
"After all," I say, "the Sole Survivor and the Lone Wanderer both knew the Kid."
He gives me a puzzled look, then appears to comprehend.
"Is that me, the Kid?"
"That's what everyone refers to you as. Isn't it better than a mercenary or a gunner?"
"Not sure," he contends softly.
Elder Maxson : We all know what didn’t stand here. How could he accept we have settlements with ghouls and even synth. And just the fact he never says a word about the fact that Sole is the General of the Minutemen! And a Super-Mutant as companion! As I already do the Strong thing with Danse (not ready yet), I will just make something in the range of the dialogue of Preston when we want to join the Minutemen after Nuka-world.
"Paladin, you can retire. I desire a private conversation with the newest member."
After a final glimpse in Sole's direction, Danse walks away from them as they shrug their shoulders to indicate that they don't understand the situation anymore as he does. Maxson makes a sharp turn and gazes out the bay window of the deck while facing the horizon.
"Before entering potentially perilous territory, I conducted investigation on the happenings in the area and what information was crucial. It is unacceptable from a military perspective to be oblivious to the terrain in front of you; therefore, I am aware of who you are and whom you are protecting.
"Who exactly am I?"
The elder confronts the knight by facing them directly and gazing them in the eyes.
"Minutemen's General. Having under their protection communities overwhelmed by ghouls."
"Sir, we are not discussing ferals; we are discussing citoyens of the Comm—"
"Mutated abominations that will one day become monstrosities in their entirety."
Sole clenched their fists. They are able to accept a great deal from the Brotherhoods, and they are even able to share a portion of their vision, but in this case, it exceeds all reasonable expectations.
"You aren't allowed to bring your lethal arsenal onto our territory and tell us how to live our lives."
"I am capable of doing so, and I have to! You must recognize that those creatures pose a threat to the human race in order to safeguard yourselves."
"You must acknowledge that you don't possess the absolute truth, and that you cannot judge every person who walks the earth."
Maxson exhales a sigh and approaches them while maintaining an almost regretful expression.
"I comprehend what you are thinking; you believe I am moving into hazardous terrain and overstepping the line. I comprehend what you are telling to yourself. Alternatively, this is the point I am attempting to convey. Humans have been toiling and giving it their all for the past two centuries in an effort to survive in an environment that has become increasingly hostile to their kind. Many individuals believe that the golden age of humanity has passed and that the time has come to recognize that other species have the right to share the world with us. There are even pro-Super-Mutant advocates. In the short time that I've been in command of my organization, I've encountered a wide variety of situations, the extent of which would surprise you. But if there is one fact that stands out above all others, it is the human race's constant decline. You use the term tolerance, whereas I prefer the term assimilation. Slowly but systematically, mutated creatures transform humans, many of whom are already so irradiated that they cannot prevent mutation. If we continue to disregard certain issues in the name of tolerance and redefining the human race, we will no longer have a human race to discuss. To put it simply, this is why we, the Brotherhoods, fight every day for the survival of the human race at any cost. We don't only make friends on our quest, but you have to understand that permitting ghouls to exist, no matter how friendly they can be, is a choice that puts the entire species at risk."
"You must realize that if you bring this kind of mentality with you, you will in fact start a full-scale war with the Commonwealth!"
"Am I to understand that you are unwilling to open your mind and comprehend what this is all about?"
"From what I gather, you are the one with a narrow perspective, and if you continue to be so insistent, I will be forced to resign from my current position with your organization."
Maxson maintains his composure for a moment while frowning, and he appears to be deeply troubled by what the person in front of him has just said. He makes a nagging sound and then dismissively elevates his hand.
"At this point, I don't believe I would get through without someone like you, as you seem to be such a vital asset. I have high expectations that you will be able to understand what I am attempting to convey to you during your service. Surely co-owning more healthy human beings will help you better understand our vision. If you do not, you will be forced to make a more definitive choice sooner or later. Dismiss!"
Gage (romanced) : Gage lacks a scene with Sole when Sole betrays the Nuka-World raiders. Gage says nothing about their love affair when the Open Season adventure begins. It’s awful—empty.
"Why? What's the point of biting the hand that feeds you? Why would you turn against those who have given you everything?"
"You knew from the start that my position was unenviable; you didn't want it yourself. I would have ended up on the table one day or another like you had fed me with Colter as my first meal."
Gage sighs and takes a few steps towards Sole.
"I was honest. I had complete faith in you and your ability. When I said we'd go far and conquer the Commonwealth together, I meant it. I wanted to give you everything in the world. I gave you my heart!"
Sole pauses and lowers their weapon.
"I didn't want that at all. There is yet hope. Porter, you're a wise man. We could leave together, and instead of plundering the Commonwealth, we can serve it. We may build up an enviable niche there and retire quietly when the time comes."
Gage slowly shakes his head, a small grin on his lips.
"Do you hear what you're saying? Put me to work for the Commonwealth? The Commonwealth should come to my aid! There is no such thing as retiring for those like us, Sole. The only time I'll see for you is when I take down your damned carcass and watch it rot in the Nuka-World sun."
#fallout 4#fallout 4 companions#fallout#fallout 4 reactions#fallout 4 react#fallout companions#fo4#sole survivor#dogmeat#elder maxson#arthur maxson#porter gage#gage#reactions#fo4 companions#fallout4
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Accepted Characters 12/12/2023
Theodore from Pony Island
Unnamed doll from Miniland
Areum Lee from Night of Shadows
Raine Whispers from The Owl House
Aggie from the Calpurnia Tate series
The Titan from The Owl House
Unnamed twins from the SpongeBob SquarePants series
Asuka Masamune from Otomen
Levi from Fear and Hunger 2: Termina
Samarie, from Fear and Hunger 2: Termina
Q-Tarō from Obake no Q-Tarō
Izzy Jang (Suri) from Witch Hunt
Ester from Etterglød
Semeru from Coral Island
Corvus from Thymesia
Victrose Dyethorne (Vi) from Lily Crown
Neftin Prog from the Ratchet and Clank games
Noire (Black Heart) from Super Neptunia RPG
Blanc (White Heart) from Super Neptunia RPG
Uqbah Sardar from Endeavour
2277 character request remain
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HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT A HEART | OBI-WAN KENOBI
Synopsis: Four hours. That's how long it's been since order 66 was executed. Four hours since you witnessed the murder of the younglings, there high-pitched screams on a constant loop inside your broken mind. Four hours since you've fought Anakin, or what has taken his place. Four hours since the place you once called home was turned into a graveyard, the lifeless bodies of your family painting red on the pristine white walls where you grew up. Four hours. That's all it takes for the person you once were to wither away inside you, leaving nothing but a hollow shell of what you once were.
Warnings: ANGST, really that's all there is, gender-neutral reader, a pinch of fluff (i think), sad obi :/, f/n = fake name, violence, child murder, betrayal, death, give my man obi-wan a break. WC: 2277
star wars masterlist
The hotel. It's quiet and unpopulated, a perfect place to lay low. The hushed and dull foreign land couldn't provide better cover for two fugitives.
The ride to the hotel was filled with silence and not the comfortable kind either. On the contrary, it was solemn and desolate, filled with nothing but pent-up despair.
The last four hours have been incomparable to anything you've ever experienced in your life and by far the most traumatic. It trumped believing Obi-Wan was dead, Ashoka leaving the order, the people of Coruscant conjecturing you a murderer, and the Council almost expelling you from the order. This, by far, was much, much worse.
The pain and agony you've felt through the Force for the past four hours has subsided to a buzz of emptiness and defeat. The light you were connected to that you fought with and for was reduced to a dull hum. Today was a day of failure, and you can't find it in your heart to disagree with it.
Order 66.
The younglings.
Anakin.
Padme.
That's what took root in your mind, rotting away at it like a parasite. You had been watching over the younglings at the request of Master Yoda as they trained. You took that time to meditate, as you always did. Today started no different from any other.
At first, you sensed it in the Force. The overwhelming tyrannizing feeling that made you feel small and insignificant overtook the purified light that filled the Temple. It was like a gas, poisoning everything in its path and filling it, claiming it as its own. You felt death. It hung over your heart like a dark cloud as it continued onwards to every crevice of the place. Then, you heard it, the sound of blaster shots bouncing off the walls.
You felt the oppressing weight of the dark side draw near, and you broke out of your meditative state in an instant. The younglings watched you, their eyes were drawn together, and you could feel the fear emanating from them. They looked up at you as someone much wiser than them to help them and guide them through the surge of dark energy flowing around the Temple. They trusted you. They trusted you with their lives.
The rest of the events remain choppy in your brain, almost like it's fervently trying to suppress such a traumatic event to keep you sane.
Anakin wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to bring the clones that you've grown to accept into your family. The same soldiers you had been off-world not even two weeks ago.
They trusted you.
You fought Anakin, your brother, the only man besides Obi-Wan you would call family. You two caused trouble everywhere you roamed, disappointing the Council in the process, but you didn't care as long as you were together. The blade you once crossed in training was now swinging at you with renewed intent to kill.
You bore witness to the children's screams, their ear-splitting cries for help as they were relentlessly slaughtered. With each calculated shot, you felt their life force snuffed out within seconds. You heard their small bodies fall limp onto the once pristine tile, now covered in crimson liquid spilling from their lifeless bodies, their eyes glassy, reflecting their home's intricately crafted marble ceiling.
You and Anakin dueled, your lightsabers clashing together. The whirls of the bright lights making contact, and the thrumming of the deadly blade, filled your ears like a symphony of cruelty. You should have known you could never beat Anakin in a duel where he was filled with the intent only Sith deal in, something that shook your very being.
Your limbs grew weary from the prolonged fight. Anakin's constant barrage of attacks weighing on you much heavier than you would care to admit. You felt it before you saw it. The feeling of your flesh being boiled from the blow he had dealt you was enough for the pain to cloud your vision, filling your head with an unfamiliar buzz. Your abdomen was scorched straight across, with blood pouring from the wound. The flesh burned as it was met with the polluted air, causing the agony to intensify tenfold. Finally, the pain had caused you to black out entirely.
You were found by Obi-Wan and Master Yoda sometime later, lying in a pool of your own blood. When he awoke you from your unconsciousness, you engulfed Obi-Wan in a hug, desperate for contact after all you and he had witnessed. Your hands clawed at his robes, desperately savoring the warmth and light surrounding you. Master Yoda didn't seem the least surprised, and you were thankful that he had neglected to ask questions about you and him.
Obi-Wan tended to your wounds, placing Bacta Pads across your stomach before wrapping it in gauze. As he did so, he explained the situation to you. You listened, remaining detached from your emotions as he spoke. He left thirty minutes later for Mustafar.
An hour after Order 66, Padme died in childbirth. You were with her, holding her hand as she pushed out twins, her screams of pain ringing in your ears. She used the last of her breath to announce the names of the children, Luke and Leia. Then, her hand, which once gripped yours for dear life, slackened. The once vibrant life force that filled with so much light and love was gone a second later, leaving only a corpse behind. She was gone.
"We're here," Obi-Wan spoke, his voice lacking its usual warmth, prying your mind away from earlier events. He was just as tired and empty as you, having to keep his emotions tight to his chest while Padme died, while Yoda spoke to him of his new purpose, waiting until you two were alone. Where he could open up his heart and express the building agony in it to you. Somewhere where no one could hear or see the great General Kenobi be reduced to nothing more than a man. It was heartbreaking to watch him unravel many times before in the confinement of your apartment, a place where he knew he was safe and at home. But if you asked him, he would say that it was never the place but you that he was most at home with. You are where his heart lies, where he felt like he could be the most authentic version of himself. Not a general, not a Jedi Knight or a Council Member, but just Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man who felt like he was nothing more than a Padawan, stumbling through life with way too many responsibilities placed on his aching shoulders.
Now, with his entire life stolen from him by a man he regarded as a brother, Obi-Wan felt lost for the first time in his life, drifting through the cosmos without a definite purpose for moving forward. The Jedi, the order, as much as it was yours, was his entire life. He knew not of anything else, of being free from the chains the code had placed around his neck. But, with that same chain being severed, the freedom that was once a fantasy is now a reality.
Obi-Wan helped you off the ship and onto the foreign planet to the hotel Senator Organa had put in place for you until you could make it to Tatooine. He also brought Luke to Tatooine for you, insisting that you and he needed a few days to recover. You didn't argue; you followed his instructions like a good Jedi.
Jedi.
That title had been stripped from you the moment Anakin betrayed the ideals he was raised upon.
You made it to the hotel, got your key, and trekked in silence to your shared room. The bedroom was small, with only a single bed to occupy it. The windows looked out into the dreary city, the occasional neon signs flickering.
This place wasn't home. Home was the crowded city of Coruscant, with the constant droning of speeders, the lights that sparkle like glitter in the sun, and the tall buildings that gave the city so much dimension and life. It was nothing like the Temple. But the Temple was gone as well as everyone else who inhabited it, and although you would have remained there to capture a piece of what you once knew, it was unwise and unsafe to do so. The Empire, as they called themselves, have started to lead a galaxy-wide manhunt for every remaining Jedi, with Obi-Wan plastered on the front of it. Luckily for you, they must have assumed you were dead because there was no demand for your arrest. Despite that, you couldn't live as you once did. You died that hour the command was given, and in its place, something that wasn't entirely you took its place, reining over your body with a new name, identity, and persona. Any trace of Y/N was wiped away, leaving F/N to take its place.
The carpet was battered from constant use, the harsh surface cruel to your feet. The beige paint remained intact on the walls but was covered in scruff marks and a lousy paint job. The first thing you did upon entering was scour the room for listening or recording devices. You moved silently through the space, your robes swishing as you moved past each other. When he deemed the room clear, you sat down on the bed.
You and Obi-Wan had brought nothing along except for what was secured to your person, yet another cruel reminder of the Jedi code. He collapsed onto the bed next to you; it squeaked and groaned in protest.
You weren't sure what came next. You had kept your emotions on such a tight leash for the past four hours that you weren't entirely sure what to do now.
"I'm sorry," his voice was barely above a whisper as it cracked. You could sense the suffering ripping away at Obi-Wan's mind, the guilt and regret tearing it apart like child's play. You could physically feel his anguish as if it was your own in your chest, causing your heart to ache further. "It's my fault."
"It's not-" you swallowed the lump in your throat. "It's not your fault Obi-Wan."
His cry is a soft, broken thing- clawing its way out of his throat, escaping the clenched teeth that attempt to cage such emotion from spilling. A few seconds later, his next cry came in much the same way. You wrap your arms around him, and it seems to break the dam holding his tears at bay. He collapses within your arms, his sobs ripping from his throat. The emotion of guilt fills the room to its entirety, and you feel tears of your own prick in your eyes.
"I couldn't save them," your voice teeters on the edge of collapse, and in response, Obi-Wan dips his head further into your shoulder. You hear his voice, smooth and patient, coated in his high Corocanti accent in your mind. It echoed through the walls of your brain, leaving a gentle reminder of his signature behind.
You did the best you could.
It's not your fault.
Don't blame yourself.
"You should take your own advice." You laugh, although your laughter lacks any humor as you descend into soft cries of your own. A broken little sound of laughter from Obi-Wan drifts into your ears. It's muffled by your bloody robes, and your heart twists in your chest. It is heartbreaking to see Obi-Wan be reduced to nothing more than a man, with so much pent-up sadness and regret that it would break any man, no less a Jedi. But Obi-Wan wasn't any man. That was proved when he watched the footage of Anakin telling the clones to fire upon children, even slaughtering some amidst your battle.
He still believed he could save Anakin from the darkness that clouded over his mind.
But now, after leaving the person he once called family to die, he was left with the feeling of failure twisting in his chest.
You and Obi-Wan remained in that position for what felt like hours, silently comforting each other while your signatures wrapped like tendrils around each other's minds, soothing the other in the most intimate way possible.
Together, you two would remain as you started your new lives in these uncharted territories, far away from the place you once called home. You knew this journey would be difficult and would take more of a toll on you than the war, but as long as the former Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi held you in his arms so tenderly, it made you weak in your knees, that for the first time in what seems like an eternity, you would get through this.
#obi wan my beloved#obi wan kenobi#obi wan x you#obi wan x y/n#star wars#reader insert#obi wan star wars#obi-wan kenobi#obi wan#obi-wan#obi wan x reader#star wars prequels#star wars oneshot#star wars obi wan#gender neutral reader#gn reader#star wars angst#star wars revenge of the sith#anakin skywalker#star wars fanfiction#star wars anakin#x reader#x gender neutral reader#x you
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Shapeshifting into Animals: A Critical Role Gen-fic Rec List
Hey everyone! This week we have seven incredible fics that are all about shapeshifting into animals. Recs under the cut, and as always, remember to comment or kudos if you liked them!
Polymorph for Fun and Profit by MasterQwertster (4132,Teen)
Warnings: None
Pairings:
The Bells Hells learn Polymorph and nothing will ever be the same
Reccer says: Lots of fun little stories of polymorph shenanigans
To the Left by Clare_Hope (4345,Teen)
Warnings: Dissociation
Pairings: Fearne & Orym & Dorian
After his conversation with Oshad Breshio, Orym can't quite seem to stay present in his body. While they wait for Imogen outside the library, Dorian and Fearne do what they can to ground him.
Reccer says: I liked it
What I Can't Say, I'll Show by SwissArmyKnife (10368,General)
Warnings:
Pairings: The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast
Eight stories about Caleb expressing himself through polymorph
Reccer says: I love the characterization, and the way that the fic demonstrates how such things can be simpler without human anxiety.
this masquerade is for the fools by grayintogreen (2027,General)
Warnings: None
Pairings: None
Eight times Caleb turned his friends into animals for a little bit of harmless fun, and one time they returned the favor.
Reccer says: It's got Caleb's sense of humor down, and is sweet and fluffy.
Good Luck by royalgreen (allyoop) (525,General)
Warnings: None
Pairings: Artagan & Jester Lavorre, Fearne Calloway & Jester Lavorre
Fearne and Jester team up to take down Ludinus.
Reccer says: This is an inspired team-up and Ludinus's worst nightmares. Very enjoyable!
something so flawed and free by LeanMeanSaltineMachine (2277,General)
Warnings: None
Pairings:
Two times Keyleth reminisces over her first lesson in Wild Shape.
Reccer says: Absolutely lovely and atmospheric
after it all (we'll have summer once again) by Ffwydriad (536,General)
Warnings: Unhappy implications
Pairings: Luc & Caleb WIdogast
Luc has a conversation with a friend about his cat.
Reccer says: Written halfway through campaign 2, it's a fascinating but disturbing look at how Caleb might have ended up if he'd been just a little more attached to his coping mechanisms.
If you liked this rec list, follow along for more! We'll be posting a new list with a new theme each Monday. And if you would like to make a rec yourself, feel free to reach out to @professor-rye to request access to the submission form!
Next week, we'll be presenting gen fics focusing on misunderstandings! Be it between siblings or best friends, mishaps in communication abound!
Additionally, a quick reminder! Around this time next month we’ll be celebrating Critter Gen Week! We’ve got seven great prompts to spark your creative fervor, so go check them out here!
#critter genfic rec lists#cr fan fic#critical role fan fiction#bells hells#the mighty nein#shapeshifting#polymorph#wildshape
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Family Seder Chapter 2
Masterlist
Rating: Teen and Up (For Now)
Ship: Gabriel/Dean
Word count: 2277
Tags and Warnings: Human AU, Pesach, Fluff and a bit of Angst, Jewish Dean Winchester, Jewish Gabriel, tell me if I need to add more tags, more tags added as I go IG
Summary: Gabriel and Dean have spent a good Purim with family, and this time they’re going to prepare for Pesach, with a little help from Dean’s daughter Emma.
Banner by @fictional-affairs
Beta by @melitta4ever
Notes: Hello, everyone. As I told you in the notes to the first chapter, I've been in the hospital. For most of May, actually. I took the next weeks to recover and just recently started writing again. First, I wrote and posted a chapter of Tell me to Stay, and now it's the turn of Family Seder! I really hope you like this new chapter, as I really put all my heart into it <3
Excerpt:
Dean sang under his breath as he took two cans of chickpeas out of the pantry and handed them to Emma; she half-ran to the counter and put them with the rest of the food they had already moved.
The light coming from the wide windows of the kitchen illuminated the empty shelves, showing dust and dirt.
“I really didn’t think we had so much stuff,” Dean sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He eyed the various packages, biting the inside of his mouth. “But at least we can cross a few things out of the shopping list.”
“Do we have to throw it all out?” Emma asked curiously.
Dean turned towards her, shaking his head, and went to sit on a stool beside her.
“Nah.” He took a packaged loaf of bread and turned it around in his hands. “That’s not how this works, honey. We just take all the leavened food out of the house and make sure to clean the hametz.”
“What’s that?” She frowned, mouthing the new word.
Gabriel entered the room just as Dean opened his mouth, leaning on the doorframe, and answered in his place.
Read on Archive of Our Own
If you’d like, donate me a Ko-fi
If you’d like to see snippets of what I’m working on, deleted scenes, make requests, etc, join my Discord Server
#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#debriel#gabriel supernatural#dean winchester#gabriel/dean winchester#my fanfics#family seder#jupernatural
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Unlocking the Potential of Sodium-Ion Batteries in Solar Energy Storage – Sodium-ion batteries will soar in the solar panel industry like conventional solar batteries. However, you’ll see a drastic change in the demand when this technology becomes more affordable, easily accessible, and have high energy density.
Visit us at https://www.corporate-electric.ky/ or call us at +1 (345) 946 2277 to request a service visit.
#Generac PWRcell#Generac Cayman#electrical contractor cayman#smart living cayman#electrical services in cayman#home and office automation
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Fuel Assistant
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Mission and objectives
MONUSCO/MONUC was established in 1999 under the auspices of the UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO). SCR 2277 (2016) requests MONUSCO to support efforts of the Government of DRC towards the protection of civilians, through a comprehensive approach involving all components of MONUSCO, including through reduction of the threat posed by Congolese and…
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Heyyy, I love your blog and writing so much! Can I request an imagine with Ed Nashton/Riddler who falls in love with the reader and kind of goes soft yandere on them, eventually kidnapping them because he’s scared they’ll reject him. But they find it really cute and secretly liked him too… ashfdnsds I don’t know I just really love this idea 😍
A/N: Hai, thank youu! This idea’s awesome, I’ve been wanting to write some soft yandere Eddie stuff 💚 it’s pretty long lol, maybe my longest imagine yet?? I got really into this 😂 so enjoy!! As always, request away if you don’t mind joining the queue hehe
Pairing: Dano!Riddler x reader (The Batman 2022)
Warnings: Obsessive behaviour and mild stalking - soft!yandere Riddler – the reader isn’t spooked by this loveable killer boi
Words: 2277
You just recently started turning up at that diner, where it all started, for a place to work in. Grab a coffee in a takeaway cup even though you aren’t really taking it away, set it down on a table beside the long glass window where the gloomy streets of Gotham act as your view, and get out your laptop, where you type endlessly. You’re friends with the waitress, and she’s happy to let you do your thing while others come and go. The apartment you live in is decent enough – well, as decent as it can really get for Gotham buildings and their rent prices – but the neighbours are pretty loud during the afternoons, blasting music until they’re bored of whatever the hell they’re doing. So, you go to the diner to concentrate.
Just to think, if you’d have chosen a place like the library or practically anywhere else, you’d never have met the odd man whose room you’ve woken up to find yourself trapped inside.
Never saw that one coming.
He’d already started going to the diner before you, but you arrived half an hour or so earlier to begin with. You hadn’t noticed him when he first came in, mumbling to the waitress for a tea and slice of pumpkin pie, but he’d stopped in his tracks as soon as he absentmindedly glanced behind him. His eyes widened behind his clear frames, and he sat down slowly at his spot at the bar as the waitress set down his order, staring, entranced. His intent gaze looked as if he was devouring you with awe and endearment, every inch of you; the tones of your hair, the shade of your eyes, your bottom lip that you bit as you focused on the screen in front of you.
Angelic. Purely angelic.
What were you doing in this cesspool they call a city?
Edward didn’t have the confidence to go up to you, to sit opposite you and ask what you were working on. God, no. He couldn’t do that. It looks easy, sure, but not for him. It could be easier with the mask, as the Riddler, but the last thing he wanted to do was to scare you off. He stayed the whole time you did that starting day, three hours of choosing to plan his next moves and the tiresome work he’d need for the accounting job he has, all in that diner. His attention kept drifting to you though, almost instinctively, lovestruck dazes he had to try to snap himself out of before you noticed. Then, when you decided to pack up and get going, he followed thirty seconds later, as casually as he could, staying in the shadowy areas of the streets and roads as he followed you home.
You only live a few streets away from where he stays. A smile crept onto his face as he watched you go inside, craning his neck to peer up through your window, hidden by the natural darkness of the area. You’re so beautiful. You’re ethereal. You’re…
Who are you?
He kept on turning up at the diner after that, as soon as he could, almost straight after you walked in. Ed didn’t want to look suspicious, didn’t need that kind of attention right now. But he needed your attention, craved it. He’d scoured the internet until he found your social media, most of it being private.
Clever. Another thing he loves about you. You keep yourself to yourself, don’t get hurt. Please don’t get hurt.
He whispered your name to himself when it came up after his searching, then again and again, like a chant. Edward loves the sound of it on his tongue, especially when it’s yours and his name together, one after the other, fitting perfectly. It’s obvious that you’re just meant to be.
It drove him mad for days, until he finally managed to swipe your phone from your pocket while you were on your way out on a late afternoon.
He hesitated, the lenses of his glasses lighting up as the screen displayed the time and a lock screen of you and your friends. He bit back a fond smile, before timidly tapping your shoulder.
You turned around, and his cheeks flushed instantly as he tried to form the words.
“You… um, I think- is this…?”
He offered the phone to you, and you frown, patting your pocket and rolling your eyes at yourself.
“Crap, thanks,” you said gratefully, taking the phone with a smile, before your head tilted to the side slightly in curiosity. “Do I know you or something? You go to the diner a lot too, right?”
You noticed? Really? Wow… you…
Edward forced himself to speak again. “I, yeah, I do…”
“Well, thank you, uh- sorry, I don’t know your name-“
“Edward,” he said quickly.
“Edward,” you repeated, and he nearly swooned at the sound of it from you and not just him this time. You replied with your name, and a smile tugged at his lips.
I already know your name, sweet thing.
“Thanks again, then. Um, I guess I’ll see you around?”
He nodded, and you nodded back with another smile before advancing down the street, making your way back home. He watched after you for a long moment, then turned the other way, going to his home.
This would be a slow process. It had been at least a week by this point. Edward Nashton didn’t want to have friendly conversations with you, he wanted to hold you tight, shield you from the dirty, disgusting people of Gotham, protect you with his life. He’ll do anything for you, just name it. He’ll worship you if you let him. He realised as you walked off that all he was doing is for you, and he’ll live for you.
Ed just knows that you need him too, that you’d love being embraced every day after you’ve finished working on your papers and everything for your job. That apartment you live in looks so lonely when it’s just you in it. He should be there too, showing you off to his stream, cuddling you tightly, kissing every inch of your skin. His heart fluttered whenever he thought of those scenarios, those scenarios that should be reality. And on those weekends when you don’t have to sit in front of a computer for hours, you could stay in bed with him, watch old movies and talk about anything, everything. Start from the beginning, every little detail about you, and if you want, he’ll do the same.
It always looked too good to be true, though, and that was the thing. How could you love him? Did he deserve it? Would you want it as much as he did?
He started giggling as soon as he entered his room, the giggles turning into laughter, manic laughter.
There was only one way to find out.
He didn’t have the patience for waiting. He needed this, he needed you, now, now, now.
You feel groggy as you come to. The place you’re in isn’t brightened by sunlight, but the navy streak of sky above the city has cast shadows over the chair you’re tied to, the duct tape that covers your mouth. It’s not covering it too tightly, though, as if he doesn’t want to go too far, whatever limit that could be. He doesn’t want it to hurt when he takes it off, but the very possible screams of protest and terror and loathing you might make would hurt him even more.
You’d gone to the diner again today, as usual. That sweet man had been there, kind, shy green eyes behind his glasses, the nerdy look he had as he scribbled in his notebooks. You had felt eyes on you, to be honest, quite a few times when you and he were sitting, working peacefully, but you kind of hoped it was him. There’s just something about him, something mysterious and captivating. He’s cute. Decent guy – he gave you your phone when you’d misplaced or dropped it before. Any other person in Gotham would’ve stolen it, sold it, because that’s what they’re like.
Apparently not him.
You blink several times, your head not banging like it would be if you were properly knocked out. No, no, you weren’t knocked out, you remember now. There was a sudden hand that clamped over your mouth and nose when you left the café and rounded a dark street to your apartment. You gasped, accidentally inhaling the fumes, and the struggle you tried to put up didn’t last long. Faux tiredness, weakness, and the surprisingly strong grip the person had when they grabbed you before you could fall, an arm hooking under your legs as you were lifted into what must’ve been a car.
You’re not in a car anymore. This is a room; maybe a studio apartment, or a hotel room? The windows are firmly closed, the view blocked by lengthy, depressing grey buildings. It’s messy here, with books and random notes and scribbles lying on the floor and piled on tables. The bookshelves are cluttered, and the faint sound of little scampering feet from a sort of cage comes from the kitchen area.
You tug the ropes that dig uncomfortably into the skin of your arms, starting to panic now. Where the hell are you? Your phone’s not on you, so there’s no way of getting anyone to help, unless you can get free of the binds.
“Ssh, ssh, ssh…”
A soft voice comes from the doorway, and your eyes go round in absolute shock as you take in the man in front of you. It can’t be… Edward, from the diner?! Why would he bring you here? Did he kidnap you? What did he want from you? What on earth’s happening?!
“It’s okay,” he tries to reassure you, his voice laced with concern and gentleness as he approaches you, kneeling in front of you.
You flinch, ready for whatever violence or threats are going to come your way, but instead, he frowns, the concern growing in his expression, mixed with upset.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I… I don’t want to scare you, angel, I’m so sorry-”
You want to say something, but you can’t. He seems to realise this, and reaches for the tape, dithering for a moment.
“Try not to scream for me, okay? I didn’t really want to put that on you, but if you start screaming, it’ll cause problems. Do you see? I’ll do it quickly, alright?”
He’s as good as his word, hastily taking it off your skin, and you let out a shaky sigh, eyeing him in confusion, anxious for what he’s planning.
“Are you…” you start, then pause, rethinking your words. But he nods attentively, silently encouraging you to go on. “Are you going to hurt me?”
He exhales sharply, lip trembling at the mere thought of it.
“N-no, no! No! Why would I do that?”
You almost laugh at that, stunned by what’s going on. “You kidnapped me?”
A look of guilt passes through his eyes. “It was the only way. If I hadn’t done this, it would have taken ages, or wouldn’t have happened at all. And I can’t live like that, I can’t…”
You stare at him, perplexed. “What do you mean? Why am I here?”
His expression morphs into one of adoration, and he smiles, the widest you’ve seen it yet. “Because I love you,” he responds with your name. “And I can’t deal with the torture of watching and waiting anymore. I don’t want to scare you, I really don’t. You’ll find out I’m the Riddler at some point anyw-“
“You’re the Riddler?” you exclaim. You shake your head, bewildered by the two confessions… and then burst out laughing.
Edward watches in uncertainty, almost laughing himself. He loves the sound of yours, he’s never heard it before.
“…What’s so funny?”
“Edward,” you sputter, “untie me, okay?”
His uncertainty grows, and he hesitates, though he’s compelled to do it, just because you asked him to.
“You won’t run-”
“No,” you answer between giggles, “just untie me, okay?”
So he does, slowly, cautiously, and you almost knock him off his feet when you hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. He feels as if he’s dreaming – you’re not really hugging him, this isn’t really happening, is it?
You pull away before he gets a chance to return it, grabbing him by his shoulders. “You didn’t have to kidnap me to get my attention, Eddie, what the hell?”
“W-wha-” he stutters, before starting to laugh, beyond himself. “What else could I do?! I don’t know- aren’t you upset?”
“Well, I would’ve preferred if you had just asked me out or something a little less worrying,” you admit, “but not really. I like you too, Edward.”
His mouth is agape as he stares at you in astonishment, trembling hands reaching up to hold yours on top of his shoulders.
“R- really?”
You nod. “Sure. I mean, I don’t really know you, but we’ve got time, I suppose. It’s… sweet, what you said.”
Edward nods slowly, not entirely sure if that means you love him back, but it doesn’t matter. He can wait this time, he can be patient in this case. It’ll be worth the wait, he’s sure of it.
“But you’re the Riddler? Seriously?”
He nods again, a smile on his face as he cups your face, his thumbs grazing your cheeks lovingly as he stares into your eyes.
“I… yeah, do you want to see?”
It’d be a lie if you said no.
#edward nashton x reader#edward nashton x you#edward nashton imagine#edward nashton fluff#edward nashton#dano!riddler x reader#dano!riddler imagine#dano!riddler fluff#the riddler x reader#the riddler x you#the riddler x y/n#riddler x reader#riddler x y/n#paul dano riddler#dano!riddler#paul dano#the batman 2022#batman 2022#robert pattinson#rob pattinson#the batman riddler#the batman movie#the batman spoilers#paul dano x reader#danonation#dano riddler#battinson x reader#battinson imagine#the batman x reader#the batman imagine
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A/N: Requests from three anons. Sir Thomas Sharpe is back in time for Halloween! And he will be back for more after too. Enjoy, everyone! ;-)
Words: 2277
Warnings: fluff and smut, mentions of ghosts
“Are you quite mad? Do not look at him like that, you are a maid! Not a potential wife…” The chef shook her head. She had a habit of chiding you but how else were you supposed to look at him? Sir Thomas Sharpe was everything a woman could ask for in a man.
He was an attractive and kind gentleman, wealthy, gentle and intelligent. He never raised his voice in an argument during all those balls you had secretly watched him at all the while serving drinks in an unflattering gown.
“Sorry…” You whispered, accepting the plate filled with little appetisers she was handing you. Another night for you to keep your head down and feign respect for all those rich bastards. Sir Thomas was different—you knew he was. He said Please and Thank you and he would always make eye contact when you served him. And quite recently, his tender blue gaze would linger just a little longer. Not long enough for anyone in the room, let alone his harsh sister Lucille to notice but long enough for your heart to flutter in your chest whenever you were in his presence.
Sir Thomas Sharpe owned Allerdale Hall. You knew he lived there with his sister, working day and night to build a clay mining business to restore the old mansion. They said it was haunted and it had hence captured your attention ever since.
There wasn’t much to do as a maid. You rarely got days off and even when you did, you did not have the money to head out and experience society the way the wealthy did. Your wages sufficed for a pie at the local pub every other month or so, if anything. And so, your hobbies were of a more affordable nature—such as your fascination for ghosts.
He recognised you now. He recognised you from when you travelled all the way to Allerdale Hall by foot to explore the landscape and see for yourself if you could spot any kind of paranormal activity. He’d seen you, probably thinking you were spying or begging for food and money, prompting you to flee before he could stop you or utter a single word.
Tonight was going to be different. It was All Hallow’s Eve and the highest members of society had dressed up in fancy costumes—most of them were even wearing masks.
You were not only flustered to look him in the eye now but also scared that he would call you out. The reputation of this house would sink massively if a maid was caught spying somewhere, even if that wasn’t what you had been doing.
-
Avoiding him went surprisingly well for the first half of the evening. Thomas Sharpe was charming—everyone wanted to speak to him—not so much to his sister though, her cold eyes glaring down every woman who came near him. Perhaps she was just protective? Wanting the best possible choice for her brother when it came to marriage? You sighed, turning away before you could get caught staring again.
“Excuse me? Would you mind bringing me and my sister another glass of champagne, dear?” You froze. It was his voice. Oh no…
Stammering, you spun around, tempted to just flee. It wasn’t just recognition you saw in his warm blue eyes though. It was kindness, along with… affection?
Surely, you were hallucinating now. You had fallen head over heels for this man despite never actually having spoken to him. So how was this possible? This was your imagination. Your mind playing a trick on you, it must have been!
And the fact that he did not utter a single word about spotting you on his property made you fall for him all the more.
“O-of course… I’ll bring it to you straight away!” Hurrying away to heed his request, you took a deep breath once you were out of sight. His voice… like smooth honey and his warm and charming gaze… oh, stop! You were just a maid! There was no way this man would ever take an interest in you…
When you returned with the requested drinks, Thomas was speaking with the owner of the house.
“It’s been quite busy tonight, has it not?” He was just saying. “Surely, your maids deserve a break after all the hard work.” Thomas gave you a warm smile, making your heart skip a beat.
“They’re used to it.”
“I’m sure they are.” He turned to you. “Allow me to escort you.”
Your heart skipped a beat and while your lips parted, Lucille’s face distorted with utter dismay.
“Thomas?”
“I will be right back, Lucille.”
His smile was genuine too when he offered you his arm and led you through the crowd, through one of the side entrances into the dark garden that was eerily quiet at this time of the day.
“Sir… I appreciate the gesture but I don’t think it’s appropriate for a man of your status to be seen with a simple maid on his arm.”
“Is a maid not a beautiful woman as well? A woman who does not fear hard work?” Your lips parted once more. Had he just called you beautiful?
“Will you tell me your name?” He asked gently once you reached the calming darkness of the garden, away from curious ears and disapproving looks.
You told him, too timid to look him in the eye even if you could barely see him away from the many candles lighting up the house.
“A beautiful name. I take it you know who I am but still, allow me to introduce myself to you. I am Thomas.”
“Sir, I can’t possibly call you by your first name.”
“Please. I insist. It’s alright.” He spoke your name then, sending pleasant shivers through you. The pause that followed was peaceful—not at all uncomfortable.
“You… I saw you. What were you doing at Allerdale Hall the other day? Did you need something? Help?” Oh. Oh no. So he had wanted to wait until you were in private to confront you?
“I… I am so sorry, Sir.”
“Thomas, please.”
“T-Thomas… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t spying, I promise, I just… there aren’t a great many pleasures for a maid. I cannot afford expensive hobbies but I take… I take a huge interest in paranormal occurrences.” You confessed. “I heard Allerdale Hall is haunted and I… I wanted to see for myself.”
“Ghosts…” Thomas smiled. “There have indeed been incidents my sister and I have been unable to explain.” Another pause, your heart in your mouth when he smiled at you… almost timidly this time.
You shivered when he said your name yet again. “The truth is, I am smitten by you. I have been for quite a while. With every celebration, I would always look forward to seeing you rush around the ballroom to offer drinks and appetisers.”
Your lips parted. Were you dreaming? You had known Sir Thomas Sharpe for several months now. There was no way he would desire a maid he had never spoken to before. Well, until tonight.
“Forgive me my straightforwardness. But am I correct when I say you too stole glances at me?”
He stepped closer, noticing how the cold was beginning to take a toll on you. The darkness of the night had wrapped itself around you both like a blanket and yet, it was bitterly cold.
His gentle gaze asked for permission before he took a hold of both your upper arms and pulled you closer towards him, his face remaining only mere inches from yours.
“I want you to be mine with every fibre of my being.” He whispered. Tears were burning in your eyes upon hearing his words. You were touched, honoured and… hopelessly in love. “Come with me to Allerdale Hall.”
“No… I… Thomas… I want this. I want you, more than anything! But this isn’t right… a maid and a baronet… they will come for me. Society will banish me. What about your sister?”
“My sister… Lucille does not know. I am aware of the risks and I know that I am asking way too much of you. But if you came to Allerdale Hall as a maid… to serve us… then sooner or later we would find a way. And I would get to marry you.”
It was much. It was too much. His confession, his offer to live in a haunted place, a rich mansion of all places and to be his maid while you secretly shared a bond made of unconditional love? It was insane and yet… you found yourself nodding, allowing him to seal your plan with a tender kiss.
-
“I am going to the post office. There are letters that are in need of my signature. By the time I am back, I expect the kitchen to be all clean.”
Lucille hated you. A few weeks had gone by since Thomas had “bought” you from your previous boss and you had moved in with the Sharpes. Perhaps she suspected something. The secret glances, the coy smiles, the subtle touches.
Thomas had let you in on his most sacred and most terrifying secret—that he and Lucille had been romantically involved, that they had shared intimacy despite being related this closely. And that Lucille had been planning on using his charm to get him to marry women from wealthy families and poison them to return Allerdale Hall to its former glory.
Now thanks to you, it was as good as new. Anything you had been able to clean and tidy up, you had taken care of—and Thomas trusting you with the darkness that lay heavily over his family’s legacy made you love him all the more.
You loved visiting him in his workshop in the attic, too. It was usually late at night when Lucille would head to bed that you would sneak out of your small room and join him up there to steal kisses, touches and the most heavenly sex you could ever have imagined having.
Society would frown upon you if only they knew you had lost your virginity to a man you were not yet married to. But you would do it again. Over and over again, you would remember his hands all over your body, his sweet kisses and his lustful thrusts back in that dark garden where he asked you to become his…
You bit your lower lip, breathing out when the entrance door fell shut and you were certain that Lucille had gone. You still had some laundry to do before you could get started with the kitchen, else she would be mad the sheets were wrinkly.
Folding them up neatly, you lost yourself in your memories of Thomas above you, caressing you and worshipping your body until you suddenly heard the door of the storage room open behind you.
A pair of big hands grabbed your waist, pulling you close against a strong body. Thomas buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.
“Thomas…” You whispered, his name leaving your lips like a prayer.
“She should be gone for two hours.” He said, his fingers grabbing fistfuls of the beautiful dress he had bought you and pushing it up until he had revealed your knickers. They came off fast, along with him unbuttoning his trousers and his own underwear.
Thomas leaned against the cupboard, one of his hands wrapping around your waist, the other stroking your breasts, one at a time. His waiting erection pressed against your bare butt cheeks and when he aligned himself with your entrance, finding you wet and wanton for him, a moan escaped your lips.
“Carried away by your fantasies, my love?”
“Always…” You choked out, gasping when he pushed inside and pressed you even further against the counter. You were trapped between him and the hard piece of furniture as he rocked into you all the while whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and when his hand slid down to where your bodies had joined, his fingers finding your clit and caressing it with circular movements that had you melt in his arms, you moaned. Over and over again, with every eager and hungry thrust until the entire storage room smelled of sex and desire.
Thomas knew which buttons to press, so to speak. He was an incredibly skilled and considerate lover and he never found his release without giving you yours first. He knew you were close when you pushed against his hand, your hips moving in unison and when you came, you clenched around him rhythmically, your tight walls gripping his length so tightly the baronet couldn’t help but give in to his orgasm as well. His warm seed filled you up until it came dribbling down your inner thighs.
Thomas jerked inside of you, dragging his climax out for as long as he could before cradling you in his arms.
“Tonight.” He murmured once you had both come down from your high and you could feel him soften inside of you. “We are leaving tonight. Lucille thinks I will take a trip to London for more advanced machinery parts. But you will come with me to assist me. In reality…”
He turned you around gently so you would face him. “In reality, I am going to take you to a church to marry you. No one—not even my sister—will be able to break that bond. I found a cottage just outside of London, in the east. We will find shelter there for the night. For privacy… and our wedding night.”
-
A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ♥ ko-fi.com/sserpente Big hug!
#thomas sharpe#thomas sharpe imagine#thomas sharpe x reader#thomas sharpe x female reader#thomas sharpe x you#thomas sharpe smut#sir thomas sharpe#sir thomas sharpe imagine#sir thomas sharpe x reader#sir thomas sharpe x you#sir thomas sharpe smut#sir thomas sharpe x female reader#crimson peak#crimson peak imagine#tom hiddleston
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Alpine Adjustment
Summary: It’s been five months since they adopted Alpine, so why does she only like Bucky?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 2277
Warnings: language
AN: This is a part 2 of You’re the Sunflower, requested by @shawnie--jo . Thank you for the support! Please enjoy the continuation of our lovely Alpine saga. GIF is not my own, credit to original creator.
“Get back here, you prick!” YN bellowed. Her socked feet slipped on the hardwood floors, forcing her body to crash into the wall.She growled, baring her teeth. Alpine leapt up gracefully, to the counter then up on top of the fridge. Perched, licking at her paw and brushing her fur down. YN stood, staring at the cat. Her hands on her hips, scowling. “You wait until your father gets home. Then we’ll see who’s nonchalant.”
YN had been chasing that cat around the apartment for an hour. It was time for Alpine’s cleaning day. It entailed taking a bath and deshedding, as well as putting nail caps on the little demon’s claws. But apparently that meant certain death for the petulant animal. There were deep claw marks on YN’s forearms. The cat had hissed and growled and sprinted from the bathroom every time she managed to grab hold of the animal. For such a small creature, she had a ferocious bite.
She was convinced the animal hated her guts. Alpine would make a deep, throaty noise every time she attempted to come close. Even when YN was nice to her, her hand would be batted away. She would curl deeper into Bucky’s chest and give her this over the shoulder glare.
Bucky didn’t believe YN when she told him Alpine was trying to get rid of her. He would laugh it off, scratch behind the cat’s ears and kiss her head. He told her that it was just going to take some time for everyone to get acquainted.
Yeah, right. Five months later and YN was still being clawed.
But Bucky? Oh, that cat adored Bucky. She napped on his chest, or in his lap, rubbed against his legs, licked his face. Brushed their noses together. But wouldn’t let YN anywhere near him if he had just recently arrived home. As soon as she came into their vicinity, a loud hiss came from the cat, a warning. It was as if the cat needed alone time with her boyfriend.
YN gave up, making herself busy around the apartment. She grumbled the entire time she cleaned, glaring at Alpine from across the room. She had made her way down from the fridge, only to find a seat at the top of her cat tower. Settled into the cozy carpeting and returning the glare full force.
YN couldn’t exactly blame the feline creature- who wouldn’t want to keep Bucky all to themselves? It still made a confusing jealousy burn in her chest. Mainly because Alpine was hell bent on keeping the pair apart as long as she could. Thankfully, she wasn’t allowed in their room at night. Every morning when she would come out of their bedroom, YN would have this gloating smirk on her lips as she passed Alpine on her bed. Only to have her ankles swatted at as she passed.
But she tried her best not to complain to Bucky about it. He loved the little fur ball just as much as she loved him. And she had been oddly helpful. The animal therapy had been working. YN never asked invasive questions about his therapy sessions, he never gave her very many details. But she did know that he was much happier around the apartment nowadays. Not nearly as gloomy. Good days had started to outnumber the bad. A frequent, relaxed smile tilted his soft lips. Shoulders not as stooped or heavy anymore.
She wasn’t actually sure what Bucky was meant to do with the animal, Alpine was not trained in the profession of therapy. Although, YN had caught Bucky singing to her once, so maybe that had been part of it.
The alarm on the front door beeped, signaling it was open. YN heard heavy boots against the floors, old worn leather creaking against metal. Bucky turned the corner, a weight lifting from his exhausted shoulders. He felt a thousand times lighter, seeing her face. Being home.
“You’re home early.” YN commented, grinning as she rounded the kitchen island. Bucky met her halfway with a smile of his own. He dropped the duffel bag to his feet, wrapping her up tightly against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.
“Couldn’t stand being away any longer.” As she backed away, Bucky caught her chin and brought her in for a long kiss. He kept her there as long as he could. Until the loss of oxygen made him dizzy. It was the only type of breathlessness he ever wanted to experience. The only time the tightness in his chest was meant for something good. Created by something light instead of the usual dark and twisted pressure that took residence all too often. “I missed you, so much- the hell happened to your arms?”
YN scowled, pulling away from Bucky. He blinked, head spinning with her sudden mood shift. She put her hands on her hips angrily, scoffing.
“What happened to my arms? I’ll tell you what happened-“ She narrowed her eyes, pointing an accusing finger to the living room. To Alpine, who sat upon her throne, staring at the couple. “That cat is a psychopath- she hates me.”
Alpine meowed, loud enough for both to hear it. YN’s mouth dropped open, eyes widening and darting between Bucky and his cat.
“She admits it!” She shrieked, glaring at the feline. YN crossed her arms over her chest, brows dipping.
Bucky could feel the intensity of the stare off, resisting the urge to laugh. Of course, he had seen that Alpine favored him. He had seen the scratches that she left when YN was attempting to be friendly. Alpine always received a scolding from the woman, and Bucky gently reprimanded the cat, but he had thought it was just getting to know one another.
He had been the same way. Keeping people distant, choosing one person to latch onto. In his case it was YN. He understood the defense that Alpine put into place, even if he read way too much into it. Bucky determined it would just take time for everyone to settle back into a new routine. Apparently, he had missed the major jump the ladies made while he was away. Forgoing steps between tentative roommates and vicious, benevolent enemies in the days he had been away.
“Baby- she is a cat.” Bucky’s hands brushed up her arms, resting against her elbows. Yn’s bottom lip sunk, huffing as she turned her head away from him. He chuckled softly, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Okay. I will talk to Alpine.”
“What?” YN laughed, breaking her silent brooding. Bucky smiled, his nose crinkling. He felt Alpine brush against his pant leg, wedging her body between their feet.
“What, like you don’t talk to the cat?” He demanded, his grin growing wider. YN slapped his chest, pulling out of his arms. Turning to make her way further into the kitchen.
“It’s usually not polite words.” Bucky rolled his eyes at her quip, leaning down to retrieve his duffel bag.
“Okay, well- I am going to shower. Try not to kill each other while I’m there.” He instructed playfully, sending YN a boyish grin as he walked backwards into their bedroom. She scowled deeper, the message was clear, without being vocalized: No promises.
Alpine gave a quiet meow as he passed by her, walking into the bedroom. He stripped down out of his uniform, leaving the dirty clothes lying on the floor before he pulled clean ones.
While he took a shower, YN watched as Alpine sidled up beside the door. She sniffed it curiously before leaping up to their bed, curling up on Bucky’s pillow. She almost looked… cute when she was asleep. She would’ve been downright adorable if YN didn’t know better. But she did and the cat was still an asshole.
After he was dried and dressed, Bucky fumbled his way out of the bathroom. His arms full of dirty clothes and towels. Wet hair sticking to his face as he tossed them into the basket at the door. He almost glanced over the lithe white cat lounging on his pillow. She was camouflaged beautifully against the fabric. He smirked, oddly proud of the small animal for achieving super spy status.
He glanced back, out of the bedroom. He didn’t see YN but that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t hanging around anywhere. Bucky disregarded it anyways, shuffling forward to sit on the side of the bed. Alpine peeked an eye open, stretching her paws out once she saw it was him.
“Hey, pretty girl.” He greeted warmly, stroking down her back. She arched, purring and sliding down to curl against his thigh. Bucky scooped her up, cradling the ball of fur to his chest. “Listen, Alpine… I love you, okay, but I also love YN and… technically, she was here first. I was hers first. And I know you want all my attention, but sometimes… I have to- this is ridiculous.” He held the animal up, eyes level with hers. The green in her eyes was mesmerizing, swirling in alternating shades. “Listen, dude- you can’t be mean to her anymore. We all live here together and I want to be able to sit on the couch and watch a movie with my two best girls. So cut that shit out.”
Alpine gave a quiet response, her tiny body emitting a strong vibration as she purred, tongue licking his fingers. Bucky nodded, releasing a sigh as he cradled her back against his chest. He stared out of the window, watching the sun setting in the distance. His brows furrowed deeper the longer he sat and thought.
“Did I just have a serious talk with a cat?”
~~~~~~
“Sugar, it’s getting late. You coming to bed?” Bucky asked, leaning against the doorframe. YN yawned, stretching her back out with a groan. Her tired eyes turned to Bucky. He wondered just how much sleep she had actually gotten while he was away. Her under eyes were prominent, sleeplessness evident.
Nonetheless, it was a soothing sight. Her hair had been thrown up messily, dressed down in her sweatpants and one of his old shirts. Glasses covered her eyes but he could see a smear of mascara that she hadn’t completely washed off under her eye. Bucky absolutely loved her in whatever she wore. She was stunning in anything. It always made those butterflies beat against his heart, fervent in their rhythm.
“I’m almost done here- just a few more things to do and then I’m done for the whole weekend.” She promised, giving him a smile that was laced in exhaustion. His heart lurched, an urge to pull her away and tuck her into bed rising in his subconscious. He forced it back down as she spoke again. “You go ahead, I’ll be there soon.
“Okay, don’t stay up too long.” He told her. She gave a small nod with her smile. Bucky pushed off the doorframe and shuffled toward her, tilting her head up and pressing a kiss to her lips. It was something he could never get enough of. Something he craved.
He closed the bedroom door behind him, as Alpine wasn’t allowed in their room at night. Not after The Incident, that is. Bucky was forced to make an executive decision that night. She was banned- for health and safety reasons that he still shuddered at if he thought back on it.
After lying there for a while, Bucky found himself tossing and turning. Unable to fall asleep. For once, it wasn’t his mind keeping him up. He just couldn’t find it in himself to actually fall asleep.
He tossed onto his side, fingers reaching across the mattress to find the empty space. His eyes opened and he realized that YN had never come in. Bucky’s fingers scrabbled over his bedside table, searching for his phone. He squinted as the bright light invaded his eyes, a stark difference to the previous lighting.
He stumbled through the dark, hand fishing for the door handle. He sighed quietly when he saw the lamp still on in the living room. Bucky blinked rapidly, adjusting his eyesight. He walked forward to peek over the couch.
Her laptop had gone dark, still open on the coffee table. Along with a mug of cold tea and scattered paperwork. His eyes moved from the table to the couch. Bucky felt his heart melt, dripping down his organs and pooling at his toes. It warmed his chest significantly.
YN was curled up, facing the back of the couch with her hands against her chest. There was a small space between her feet and the couch cushion, creating a minuscule triangle. Alpine was cuddled up in the empty spot, her head propped up against YN’s feet. Paws touching her heel, wrapped around her foot. Pulling her closer.
Although it wasn’t exactly friendly, maybe far from it, Alpine had chosen to sit with YN. It was a large bound of progress- Bucky had never seen the feline willingly sit anywhere with the woman until this point.
He bit his lip, a poor attempt of stifling his excitement. He was exponentially glad that he had brought his phone with him, leaning slightly to take a picture of the first moment of their newfound relationship. Bucky spared one last glance to the pair on the couch before quietly tiptoeing back into their room and closing the door. The grin on his face refused to fade, even as he lay back down and pull the sheets to his chest. Maybe now, there could be some semblance of peace in the small apartment.
#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#james barnes x female reader#james barnes x y/n#james barnes x you#james barnes x reader
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(extra ask:
In continuation of that drunk, passionate sex ask with Sora, Fem!Reader would be much preferred. :) )
Ah yas! I’ve been so looking forward to writing this piece.
Thank you so much for the request! It was so much fun to work with Sora again, especially with him in a more grown up setting.
And of course, a friendly reminder that Sora IS aged up in this. Enjoy!!
**Drunken Love ~ Sora x Fem!Reader NSFW**
Words: 2277
———————————————-
The door to your apartment swung open, your back pressed up against it as it hit the wall, as Sora’s hands roamed over you. There wasn’t a single care that anyone passing by could see, all you could fathom was the way Sora’s warm, wet lips sloppily devoured your neck. Your fingers laced into his spiked hair, your lips parted as you moaned, rising in pitch as his hand kneaded your breast.
It had taken far too long to get back home. The welcome home party for Sora had gotten just the slightest bit out of hand when Tidus had brought in the alcohol. Both you and Sora had gotten drunk, although you were much more sober than Sora. He hadn’t been particularly subtle about how much he had missed you when he had returned, but the alcohol had only intensified that. Even with the buzz and excitement drinking brought, the stares and looks everyone sent as Sora became progressively more touchy throughout the night was not lost on you.
He had held you close while you danced, his breath hot on your ear and against your neck. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and you knew he was getting carried away with taking little drinks here and there with his friends. They were adding up, and you were reaping the benefits. It wasn’t often that Sora would be so open about his desires, but that night, it was as if the alcohol unlocked something inside of him.
The trek home had been long. Neither you or Sora able to keep your hands and lips off of each other for long. Sora would have taken you as his own practically anywhere – if you had let him– but you were sober enough to know that things would be better if you could make it back to your apartment instead.
The sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs to your floor broke you out of your drunken trance, just enough to grab Sora’s wrist and pull him inside your apartment, slamming the door shut behind you. He yelped as he went inside, stumbling a bit from his abbreviated state, but spun right back around, looking you over. There was a glaze over his blue eyes, one of lust and excitement. It was a look you didn’t get to see often, he was always so careful about hiding his deep, true desires, in worries of seeming selfish or only wanting you for one thing.
You knew Sora better than that though.
You wanted him to show you that side of him. To see how crazy you were making him, how he couldn’t keep your hands off of you. As he closed the distance between you with a wolfish grin, you dearly hoped and wished in your heart that you would remember this moment. That your drunken state wasn’t so overwhelming, that you would wake up the following morning without a single memory of the night before.
The thoughts wisped away as his lips devoured yours. His tongue pushed into your mouth, a passion and force with every flick against yours that made your knees weak. His hands started at your face, sliding downwards and tracing along your curves. You moaned in his mouth, your hands lacing in his hair as your hips rolled against his. His warm hands slid under your shirt, making your gasp and breaking the kiss.
Sora chuckled at your reaction, kissing along your jaw and murmuring in your ear with a deep, slurred voice. “You’re so adorable, Y/N…”
You whined as his usual sweet, cheerful voice vibrated through you, causing you to throb. His words were simple, something he’d say often, but the tone was what made you shiver.
He pulled back to watch you as his hands reached your breasts. His mouth was curved into the slightest smirk, taking in every little reaction and expression you gave as he pinched your nipples between his fingers.
“Does that feel good?” He asked, his thumb pressing against your nipples and his smirk growing at your sharp moan.
He knew the answer.
You whined, nodding wordlessly as he hummed and went to kissing your neck. Hands grabbed at his shirt, tugging and pulling it up over his head. He chuckled, following your wish to take it off entirely, but got it somehow tangled around his head and arms. Normally, you would have giggled at his antics, knowing full well it was the alcohol making such a simple task so difficult, instead though, you took the opportunity to run your tongue along his chest.
He shivered, a shaking moan slipping out of him as your hands traced his lean muscles and your tongue swirled over his perked nipples. The shirt was tugged off, the fabric tossed away, but you didn’t cease as you went to your knees, kissing your way down his abs and hips.
He cried out as you kissed over his pants, the warmth of his throbbing cock hot against your lips. On a regular night, you were lucky if Sora would even let you focus on him without him doing something to you. Tonight though, you were going to lavish him.
You glanced up at him as your fingers went to undoing his buckle. His lips were parted, his face flushed as he stared back at you, allowing you to have your way with him as you pushed on his legs to stumble him back against the wall. His pants wouldn’t come off, too tight and complicated for your fogged brain to comprehend. With an annoyed huff, you opted for undoing the zipper and pulling out his cock through his boxers. His shaft barely had a moment of freedom from its confines before you covered it with your entire mouth.
Sora’s back arched off the wall, his head slinging back as he prodded the back of your throat. His entire length was sticky with precum, covered from his lust the entire night. You lapped up every inch, loving the sweet, salty taste on your tongue as Sora’s hands fisted in your hair, pulling harder than he had ever done. You moaned from the sensation, your voice vibrating through his cock as your hands went to his hips, pulling them forward to encourage him to fuck your mouth.
He barely objected as his hips jerked forward, pushing him even deeper down your throat to the point that you would have choked if it hadn’t been for the drunken lust overtaking you. It started soft, but by the way you moaned and sucked at the movement, it quickened. Sora’s voice filled the dark living room, his hips rocking faster and erratically as you bobbed your head up and down his length, the wet, sloppy sounds of your lips and tongue melding with your moans.
“F-Fuck, Y/N,” Sora whined, his voice strained and trembling, “Y-Y/N I’m gonna– Ah!”
Before the words could fully leave his lips, his hips jerked forward, his body tensing as his voice cracked. Salty sweet cum spilled down your throat, filling your mouth and further lubricated his cock as you continued to bob your head up and down his entire length. You hummed, looking up at him as the climax coursed through him. His chest heaved, his hands clenching tighter in your hair before clawing at your back. As the orgasm faded, his knees trembled. You pulled off his length, just in time to watch him crumble before you. He slid down the wall, sweat gleamed on his skin, grinning the moment his eyes met with yours.
You grinned in return, about to ask him if he enjoyed, before his hands went to your face and pulled you forward, crashing your lips together. He moaned at the taste of himself on your tongue, eagerly tasting and showing you just how much he loved it. You melted in his kiss, following his wishes as he pulled you into his lap.
Breaking the kiss for just a moment, he grabbed your shirt. “Off,” he ordered, before meeting your lips back together.
You kissed him back, before pulling away, biting your lip with a smirk as you grabbed your shirt and pulled it over your head. Sora’s eyes never failed to light up when he saw you strip in front of him and this night was no different. His hands clenched against your knees, begging to run over you. Keeping your eyes on his, your reached behind your back to undo your bra, tossing it aside and allowing him to look over your bare chest.
His hands went to your waist, starting slow as they trailed up, making you shiver with anticipation. Your breasts melded perfectly in his grasp, making your breath catch as he hummed. Each twist of your nipples, each sloppily placed kiss along your breasts, sent a pulse straight between your legs, making your hips jerk forward. Sora answered your wishes, his hand leaving your breast to press between your legs.
A sharp moan slipped out of you as your hips rolled against his touch.You were thankful to have been wearing a skirt as his hand slipped under the loose fabric, tracing your admittedly soaked panties. His fingers dipped under the elastic, his hum of appreciation resonating through you when slid between your folds with ease.
“You’re so wet,” he moaned against your breast, his fingers slipping down further, swirling between your folds and over your entrance.
You could barely manage a reply as your entire body was set alight. Your eyes slid shut, lips parted as gasps and moans slipped out of you. “Oh, Sora,” you breathed out, taking in a sharp breath as his fingertips teased your entrance, “Fuck Sora, don’t stop…”
His arm wrapped around your back, holding you close as his fingers circled and rubbed your clit, occasionally pushing inside of you before pulling back out. Your hands clung to his hair, his back, your heavy breaths mixing with the lustful humidity around you as his lips kissed and licked every inch of you he could reach.
It was too much. Your body trembling as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, lavishing every inch of you.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you repeated in a near whimper, your hips grinding against his fingers, until with a snap, your head slung back as you cried out, “Ahh, Sora!”
He groaned against you, sucking along your neck as you came and cried out his name repeatedly as if it were a mantra. Every inch of you was overflowing with pleasure, your nerves exploding and tingling as he continued to push you through your climax. The moment your voice quieted, he grabbed your hips and pushed you onto your back against the floor. You gasped, your hands up on either side of your head as he climbed over you, that same grin on his lips before he kissed you deeply. His fingers hooked under your skirt and panties, pulling them down and off your legs so you were laying bare for him.
He sat up, pushing down his pants just enough so his cock was completely freed. You whined at the sight of it throbbed and swollen with desire, already prepared to take you all over again. He situated himself over you, both of you staring into the others’ eyes, your chests heaving and smiles on your lips. Your gaze broke away from his as he slid inside of you, back arching and head slinging back as he stretched you completely. It had been far too long since you had felt him inside of you.
He slid in slow, making sure he was fully inside of you, before he pulled out and slammed back in. You cried out, wrapping your legs around him to push him even deeper. A breathless moan slipped out of him, muffled as he pressed his lips back against your neck, your collar bone, anywhere he could reach. His pace quickened, the sound of your hips meeting resonating through the room and mixing with gasps and moans as you were pushed closer and closer to another climax.
Your arms wrapped around him, holding him against you and feeling his racing heartbeat against your own. “Oh Sora,” you moaned under your breath, “Oh, Sora, I– I love you…”
He whimpered, burying his face against your neck as his hips jerked harder and faster inside of you. You met his pace, your voice cracking with every thrust as he pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name, being pressed against him as he pulled your closer. With a final roll of his hips, he shook, his muffled voice against your neck moaning as he came.
The apartment fell silent, only your heaving breaths filling the air around you as Sora fell limp. Your fingers gently raked through his spikes of hair, your eyes slid shut as he lazily kissed along your neck. Both of you laid there in silence, relishing the afterwaves of your orgasms and the sensation of finally being in the others’ arms again. Minutes passed before Sora pulled back, his hand pushing back your hair out of your face as he smiled. You leaned into his touch with a soft hum, kissing his palm.
“I—” he swallowed to coat his dry, hoarse throat “I love you, too.”
You grinned, pulling him to your lips. He chuckled against your mouth, kissing you back and holding you close. His forehead rested against yours when the lock broke, both of you grinning like lovestruck idiots.
“Let’s take this to bed,” Sora suggested.
With a giggle, you gave him a short kiss. “Agreed.”
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My Love, My Light, My Soul
A/N: Yeah so my wife requested this: @queenxxxsupreme - she’s amazing and I love her and her writing is amazing. Go check her out! Also, this is my first time writing for Yenn, so if you have any tips, or criticism, I’m totally open for it!
Ship: Yenn/N!reader
Summary: Even on the hardest of days she’s there.
Words: 2277
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It was well after midnight when you had begun heading home. The city was quiet. Torches dimming and streets dwindling to only the odd cloak covered thief or stumbling, drunken man. The quiet was inviting, with only the hints of music from an Inn far away to further prove how silent everything was.
You took every second of it. Reveling in the peace as you weaved your way through streets, pace quickening as the final stretch to your home creeped towards you. The walk allowed you to unravel some of your stress. Slow your thoughts, help prevent you from bringing all these emotions back home. Back to her.
Yenn. A flash of guilt and shame spread from your chest, weighing your shoulders down, as you realized the time. The broken promise you made. The fact that it had been a long time since you had seen her, and already you were going to be disappointing her… You knew you shouldn't have let these thoughts fill your mind - that, while she was hard and stern, she would hate to know that this is what you were thinking. Yet it was so hard. Today was so hard.
You tried not to think about her impatience. How she would be frustrated that you had promised ten and it was nearly one. You hoped she would forgive you, that she would understand that today was just not a good one. Far too many people with far too many demands, all shouting for one thing or another, pulling you either way.
All you wanted to was be in her arms. To run your fingers through her hair, to feel her lips brush against yours. The thought made your heart constrict. Aching, as the tears poked at your eyes and you blinked them away.
It took another five minutes before you were home. Quietly opening and closing the door behind you as you walked forwards. Your hand waved up as you took off your cloak, a click indicating the door was locked as you threw the discarded fabric onto the couch. You frowned. Eyes narrowing as you realized that the living space was empty, that the candles were dying and struggling to fend off the darkness.
The fire in the hearth was dead. Small crackles in the dying embers that thrummed softly. It dragged you in, stopping you from looking around the house, and giving you pause to just be.
You don't know how long you had been standing there, staring at the coals. Arms crossed and jaw working, as you tried to control your tears, before a voice rang through the room.
"If I remember correctly," she spoke. "You promised me ten… and dinner." Her voice held an edge to it, mixing with a twist of exhaustion as you turned to look towards her.
A pang of guilt, worse than the ones prior, spread through your chest and up your throat
Mixing with the ache of tears and the need for warmth.
"What kept you away from me for so long?"
Tears were already welling in your eyes, close to falling, as you took in her appearance. Tension leaving your shoulders just by the sight of her and the safety she exuded.
You couldn't help but stop and admire her, to take her in. If not just for a moment.
Dark waves framing her face, slightly more frizzy than before from what must have been a bath. Her purple eyes, sharp and cunning even when so tired, met yours in a way that had you heart beating like this was your first time seeing a woman as stunningly marvellous as her.
Sometimes you swore she made you feel like a teenager. Like you weren't nearly a one hundred year old mage, who had seen and experienced the world many times over, but once again that giddy little child, stealing glances at their crush from across the classroom. You loved it. How she made you feel so alive after years of just living through the motions, waiting for the end without actively searching for it. You were still so relieved, so fucking happy, for running into her again.
Years after Aretuza and losing contact with her - something that had broken your heart more than you wanted to think about, you had thought you'd never see her again. That she was gone and you had lost her without even getting a proper chance to be with her. And finding her again, seeing her eyes and her smile… hearing her voice that would always have you falling in love with her all over again… it felt like a breath of fresh mountain air. Clearing your lungs of the smog of the world, and hooking you to the feeling of the clear mind and euphoric buzzing in your chest that she gave you.
"I know, I'm sorry… today was…" You sucked in a deep breath, taking a few steps towards her and nodding your head. You had promised dinner… and for a night of much needed love and intimacy after being apart for so long. You didn't know if you could give that tonight. If you could give her what you knew she needed.
Your eyes shut for a moment, lungs sucking in another breath in an attempt to keep yourself calm as you opened your eyes. "Difficult. Very difficult."
When you met hers again, you could see the concern taking over her once annoyed features. The slight furrow of her brows and the twitch of a frown. Her arms, that were once crossed, fell to her sides, as she gently pushed herself from the door frame and walked towards you.
She was silent for a moment. A hand coming to cup your cheek as she closed the distance even further. Her eyes were soft, just like her hand as her thumb brushed against your cheekbone. You swallowed. Fighting the tears as she spoke.
"You’re forgiven. What's done is done…" She trailed off, eyes looking over your face as she subtly gestured her chin towards you. "What is it that you need, darling?"
Your eyes fluttered closed. A sigh of tension and stress leaving with a near harsh burst as you tried to calm yourself, before opening your eyes again. "I need a hug. Maybe a cuddle. Definitely a cuddle. Just… let me hold you."
Her lips tilted into that smile. That beautiful and addicting smile as her hand slipped from your cheek and down your shoulder. Fingers ghosting your skin and setting goosebumps wherever they graced, before she took your wrist.
She turned, a soft gesture of her head as she led you towards the bedroom. "That is something I can most certainly help with. Come. Let us get you out of those clothes. There should be enough…" The corner of her lips perked up as a small spark of light flashed in her eyes. "Juice left in the pitcher for you."
You hummed, a small spike of lightness in your chest as your own lips lifted just slightly, and you followed her. Eyes never leaving the back of her head, as she walked down the hall and into the bedroom.
She glanced back at you, letting go of your wrist to move to the small table in the corner.
"Get yourself comfortable. I'll pour you a glass." She was already doing so when the order left her lips, head turned just enough to raise a brow at you and gesture to the bed.
There was a moment where you were frozen. Unable to look away from her, like she was the one thing keeping you anchored. Keeping you from collapsing into a puddle of tears and exhaustion. You felt like if you looked away, for even but a moment, she would be gone. That you would be left alone to your own pain, to unwrapping your own emotions, yet again, without her firm and gentle caress and honeyed spice words.
You never understood how she could make you feel this way. Even when you were stressed and angry and sad, she always calmed you down. Loosened the coil of emotions in your head and chest - eased the chaos pounding through your veins. She had this way with you. Even when you were at your most… feral. Chaos consuming you and unable to find yourself and your peace, she would appear and the fire would cool. Blood dropping from a searing boil to a simmer in your veins with a single look.
"Well?" She asked, turning around with two goblets of rich wine as she walked over to you. Brows raised and light smirk gracing her features as she realized you had been staring- no, admiring her.
You cleared your throat, sweaty palms moving to rub against your pants as you slowly undid the buttons. Peeling the leather down your legs, as you walked towards the bed, and kicking them to the side once they were down to your ankles. You would put the dirty clothes in their designated place after. Right now, your feathered bed, duvets, and pillows sounded far more appetizing than cleanliness.
She stood in front of you as you sat and sank into the bed. A hand coming to cup your face before gliding down and moving to the collar of your jerkin. Her eyes never left yours, the candlelight illuminating her features, casting shadows through her white gown that had her looking so… ethereal, as she slowly unbuttoned of black vest and pulled it off of your shoulders.
The moment was so delicate. So peaceful as your eyes closed, and her fingers took the hem of your tunic, nails lightly digging ever so often against your stomach and up your sides as she lifted the shirt and let it fall beside her.
Finally, after so long of trying to keep them down, tears found their escape. Gliding down your face as you let in a shaky and weak breath.
Your underwear was the only thing left as she moved so she was sitting in your lap. Her head moved forward, past your lips and gently to your cheekbones where she, ever so carefully, brushed her lips against your tears.
Slowly, she moved down to your jaw, down your neck, before landing a kiss in your shoulder - quickly followed by a bite that had you gasping and had your arms wrapping around her waist, squeezing her firmly for a moment as you pressed her as close to you as you could.
If you could see yourself, you probably would have felt like a fool. Your eyes were wide, lips slightly parted as her fingers brushed your hair away from your forehead, and she lifted her head up and looked at you. Eyes alight with that teasing love and care, heated in a way that had a shiver running up your spine as she leaned forward. Her lips finally pressed against yours. Moving with a heated, slow passion that had air leaving your lungs, as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder. Her other hand entangling itself in your hair, where she gave a slight pull that stung to match the graze of her teeth against your bottom lip.
She held you like you were the most important thing. Like you were hers and hers alone and she would protect you from everything. Just like you would with her. And you couldn't help the light sob that racked your body as your hand came up and you brushed your knuckles against her cheek, running it through her hair and keeping her close. Afraid of her leaving. Afraid of what might happen if her lips and warmth were taken from you.
When she finally did separate, a soft gasp for breath through her soft lips, as her eyes opened to look down at you with emotions you always wanted to see in her eyes, you knew you were in love with her. So deeply and utterly in love with her. How it had taken nearly nearly five decades to find that out, to take the actions to get here with her, you'd never know.
What you both did know, however, was how she had you wrapped around her fingers. Tightly wound and completely hers to subdue and undo as she pleased. You could see she loved it. The shine in her eyes as your hands found her hips and your nails dug in just the slightest. The soft giggle that bubbled from her smirking lips had you bowing your head and brushing your lips against her shoulder.
You knew she could undo you. All she would have to do is look at you and speak and you would do her bidding. No magic needed.
Even with this knowledge, you weren't scared. No. You had spent years being scared of this. Being scared of the possibilities and the potential. And after everything. All the pulls and pushes through the years. Of nearly losing her to a man who couldn't even show her love without mixing secrets along with it… you couldn't bear the concept of being like that anymore. No more fear. Just love, and safety, and intertwined souls that you would fight to the death to keep connected.
"You are my soul. My heart. The one thing that can lighten my darkest of days." You hated the vulnerability in your voice, the way it wavered as you spoke without even thinking. Her smile, however - her soft, enchanting, smile, sparking with a vulnerability that matched the same look in her eyes, as her nose brushed against yours, had any doubts pushed away. Shattered.
"Darling, as you are mine. My mage. My love… my light."
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It’s sometime between late December, 2277 and early January, 2278 when Bobby stumbles upon Reilly at the Chop Shop.
He takes upon her request to save the rangers without a second thought. Charon doesn’t reason with the boy - although at some point he thinks to himself it’s a suicidal mission. If Reilly’s Rangers are cornered by a group of Super Mutants, what can a vault boy and a shotgun-carrying ghoul do?
Nevertheless, soon enough Bobby and Charon find themselves in Vernon Square, about to enter Our Lady of Hope Hospital. The whole journey is tiring and dangerous, and on top of that Bobby is limping more than half of the way up to the Statesman Hotel. He’s never been that hurt before, and he’s certain he’s going to die. Maybe. Every corner they turn there’s a Super Mutant, and it’s not like they can be quiet about their arrival. Shots fired inside closed space reverberate and it takes two kills for every creature to come at them.
It’s a great moment for Bobby to test his railway rifle though. It pierces through flesh easily, and it doesn’t take long for Charon and the teen to reach a silent agreement: Bobby cripples arms and legs and Charon finishes the job; it feels cruel at one point, but Bobby pushes the thought to the back of his mind as they get closer to the rooftop.
Maybe he regrets accepting Reilly’s request. They almost got lost in the subway tunnels, would have been attacked by ferals had he not been wearing that disgusting flesh mask Roy Phillips gave him, then Super Mutants beat their ass multiple times and he was sure his ankle was twisted and maybe his arm was broken (he would have to wait for the Stimpak to wear off to be sure, but it looked ugly and arms aren’t supposed to look like that).
Eventually they save Reilly’s Rangers as the quest indicates (Bobby had a spare fission battery in his bag for some reason, which made things much quicker), but that was the first time the Wasteland made it clear he wasn’t invincible.
#hmmm i needed to add this to his timeline its important#oc:bobby#bobbys timeline#ultrastimpaks writing
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Absolution
Summary:
noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment
The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.
VIII
September 23, 2277.
It’s been a few days since my recall. Percy told me to rest and we’ll leave for Rivet City in two days. Something about looking for a scientist called Madison Li. Percy said she might know where her father is.
On the wall opposite the couch hangs a photograph of the young mistress and her father. Percy said his name is James. Yesterday, she caught me looking at it and told me she was in a rush to leave the vault but she could never leave the photograph behind. He’s the splitting image of the mistress. Almost.
The mistress and I had supper in silence, a slab of brahmin steak the mistress seared herself, with Instamash on the side. The dog is currently curled up in my lap while I sit on the couch. I can’t remember sitting something on something relatively comfortable and relaxing for once. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I relaxed and let my guard down before this Vault girl walked into my life.
It’s… difficult acclimating to my new employer’s lifestyle. I have no complaints for the free food and board that comes with it, but having this much time to myself still feels strange. I’m afraid spending most of my waking hours standing in the corner in the Ninth Circle has something to do with it.
Percy saunters over and calls my attention, a book in hand. “Hey. I thought you might like this book, Charon,” she tells me, handing it over. The cover is faded and the paper is yellowed, but it’s intact. There’s a dog- a wolf?- on the cover, and its coat pattern looks similar to Dogmeat’s. I found it interesting, but to be truthful…
“Thank you, miss. Unfortunately, I cannot comprehend this book.”
“What do you mean? This book is in English so...”
I hesitated on whether I should tell her or not. Wastelanders never knew how to read or write, but I was born before the bombs fell. Granted, the circumstances robbed me of the opportunity to learn, but shame grows at the pit of my belly. I felt pretty damn stupid.
“I barely remember how to read, miss.”
“Oh. That’s fine, I can read to you and teach-” Percy stops mid sentence and has a look of surprise on her face. “-wait, how do you know the contents of your contract then?”
The itch in my brain returns, but I am too exhausted to entertain it. The nightmare took a toll on me. “It was taught to me. Please, don’t ask.”
My mistress nods, taking the book from my hand. “Okay. Do you want me to read to you?”
“If the miss wishes to,” I tell her, but she shakes her head.
“I’m asking if you want to, big guy,” said my mistress, a smile on her face.
It wasn’t unkind.
It’s warm, like the ones she gave me when she used to come by in the Ninth Circle. When did an employer care for what I want? I’m still learning to trust this girl, but how can I say no to a good thing?
“Yes.”
Percy’s smile turns into a grin, her too white teeth gleaming. I think I’ll never be used to how healthy the mistress looks compared to the other denizens of the wasteland. She scoots closer, the dog nestled between us, and opens the book.
“Chapter one, ‘The Trail of the Meat’,” she starts. “Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway…”
??? ??, ????
I feel the warmth of another person beneath me. A whisper tickles what’s left of my ear, voice familiar.
“Please.”
It’s Percy’s.
There’s desperation in her voice, and I get on my hands and knees to look at her. Face flushed and glasses fogging, she looks me in the eye, with an expression similar to the ones I see on the women in the skin mag she found in the scrapyard. She’s dressed in that stupid blue jumpsuit, and I grab the zipper and undo it, dragging slowly. Underneath, she wears her shirt and boyshorts, the fabric sticking to her sweat-drenched body.
Head thrown back, her pale throat is exposed. I lean in to swipe at a bead of sweat with my tongue, my ruined mouth dragging against the skin on her neck. The mistress’ skin is as soft as I imagined. My hands scrambled for purchase, squeezing her breasts, rough fingers slipping beneath her shirt, pinching her hard nipples. I latch on to one, and she sighs softly, small hands grasping what’s left of my hair.
“Please.”
I stop, on my hands and knees once more, and my hands move lower, grasping her shorts and peeling it from her hips, ruined fingers touching her in places I have no right to. She leans in and kisses my ruined cheek, before slipping her tongue in my mouth.
“Charon, please,” she begs, breaking the kiss and bucking her hips against me.
I kneel between her legs, ready to service my mistress.
“Charon…”
I want her to never stop saying my name.
September 24, 2277.
I jerk awake, an uncomfortable pressure between my legs, and I look down, cursing myself. I’m too fucking old for wet dreams. Suddenly having a nightmare seems more preferable. Of all the dreams I can have, why that, and why her?
I hear a gentle knock and Percy’s voice from outside the door.
Dammit.
“Charon?” she calls again. I scramble to find my pants, do my best to conceal the hard-on I have, and hope she doesn’t notice it.
I open the door, and Percy stands there, I can no longer stop myself from looking at her. Droplets of water are dripping from her hair, down her neck, and to her sleeveless white undershirt. She wears her vault suit with its sleeves tied around her waist. The thin, wet fabric of her undershirt reminded me of the dream I had and I felt myself twitch at the sight of her.
“Miss. What do you need?”
“Lunch is ready,” she tells me, and I nod. She turns around and descends down the stairs, and I follow her, eyes trailing down her spine, to the curve of her ass, to her legs. The guilt settles in and I look away, even if she doesn’t know where I’m looking. It felt dirty, ogling the kid who’s offering me a roof over my head.
We eat our meal in peace like before, and Dogmeat lies on my lap while I sit on the couch. After fifteen fucking years of standing in that corner, I will take every opportunity I can to sit. I pet the dog’s head until he falls asleep, the rise and fall of his breaths slowing down. The mistress sits on the other side of the couch, sipping a Nuka, legs raised to the backrest.
“Looks like the two of you had taken a liking to each other,” said Percy, that smile on her face again. I felt the corner of my mouth tug upward, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.
“What about me, Charon? Do you... like me?”
My head whips to my mistress’ direction, and she must’ve seen the look on my face for her to let out an awkward laugh. “Seeing how you didn’t hesitate to put down Ahzrukhal, I hope I’m earning your trust and not doing anything to earn that treatment,” the mistress explains.
When Percy clarified what she meant by the question, I felt somewhat relieved. I’m not blind nor numb; she is attractive, even when I’m more used to the sight of ghoulettes. My body’s reaction to her says it all. I thought she was on to me, and I was terrified for a moment. Not a lot of things terrify me.
I have no reason to let her know about that, and I hope the mistress never asks. This new employer is treating me so well, I’m afraid her finding out about the physical attraction I felt for her will result in the sale of my contract.
“Yes, I do like you, miss. Your treatment of other people and I is much more preferable than Ahzrukhal’s,” I tell her, and she gives me a sigh of relief.
“Great! Great, ahem- that’s good to hear. Very reassuring,” she mumbles, a nervous crack in her voice.
“Miss, is there something bothering you?” I ask her.
“Oh, me? I- I guess I’m just a little worried,” Percy stutters, averting her eyes from me. “I mean, you are the first person I’ve travelled with since I got out of the vault. I have friends here in Megaton, sure, but never someone who’d watch my back while I look for Dad. Then you came along. I’m still learning to trust you, and I hope you’ll trust in me too.”
“Your worry is not necessary, miss. The contract entitles you my absolute loyalty.”
“Loyalty is different from trust, Charon,” said Percy. “It’s the difference between you unflinchingly following Ahzrukhal’s orders to fuck someone up, and letting yourself be vulnerable to me so I can patch you up, if that makes any sense.”
I raise a brow, curious. “Please explain further.”
Percy gets off the couch and paces around. “Okay. Remember how you stood down when I asked you to, when Barrows and the others pointed their guns at us?” she asks.
I nod at her, and she sits back down. “I’ve been reading your contract. It says that you were to remove all immediate threats to my safety, and yet, you listened to me and let me talk them down.”
“I merely listened to your orders, miss.”
“But it says on your contract that you can refuse to entertain orders or requests that can cause harm to your employer or to yourself, correct?” Percy asks again, to which I nod. “Well, you must have trusted my judgment enough to entertain my request to stand down even when there’s an immediate threat to both of us.”
I am getting impatient trying to find the meaning behind my mistress’ words. “Miss, where are you going with this conversation?”
“Straight to the point, aren’t you? I wish I can talk like that,” Percy mumbles, an embarrassed look on her face while she palms at the back of her neck.
“Charon, I want you to trust my decisions not just because I am your employer, but because you think it’s sound,” Percy tells me. “At the same time, if you think something I do will compromise us, I want you to speak up.”
Pondering on her words, I finally look her in the eye. “So, you want me to question you if you think that your decisions would endanger us?”
“Yes, precisely that. I told you that you’re open to make suggestions and ask questions, right? I meant that I trust your input and opinions. So, if you have tactical advice, observations, or comments, you’re free to make them,” Percy replies.
“I understand now, miss. However, I don’t see how my input is of any value.”
“Hmm, I’m just a nineteen year-old girl who got lucky that the wasteland didn’t kill me the first month I spent outside the vault,” Percy replies. Hearing that she’s older than eighteen made me breathe more freely for some damn reason, but it also reminded me of her youth and how old I am in comparison. My mind pulls me back to my darker thoughts about her, and I felt disgust for myself.
“Sure, I know how to set broken bones, sneak around, and hack computers, but you? You’ve got more combat and survival experience than me. Hell, I would’ve been blown to bits if you didn’t tackle me when that Super Mutant threw the grenade. There was probably an oversight in my tactics for you to get hurt like that,” Percy continues. She looks… guilty.
“You’ve been around for more than 200 years. Surely there’s something in your wisdom that will help us,” she adds, a sheepish smile on her face.
“Charming. Very well, miss. I shall consider it as a standing order, and endeavor to provide my insight when necessary.”
“Thank you. I’m glad we had this conversation, Charon,” my mistress replies.
The afternoon went by slowly. While I spent my afternoon servicing my shotgun, Percy tinkers with a bunch of fission batteries. Soon, it was nightfall, and my mistress took me to the Brass Lantern for dinner, too tired to cook after an afternoon of work.
On my last bite of noodles, Percy turns to me. “Hey Charon, wanna grab something to drink?”
“There is nothing in the contract that prohibits me from accepting food and drink from my employer. So, yes.”
“Well then. Off to Gob’s saloon we go.”
I follow her through the rickety metal scaffolding that leads to the establishment, and the dog follows behind me. As soon as she breezes through the door, a woman with short red hair and a ghoul behind the bar counter stop whatever they’re doing.
“Well hello, Miss Dangerous,” the woman greets, smirking. Percy walks over to give her a hug. “Nice to see you, Nova. Hey Gob,” Percy greets, turning to the ghoul.
“Hey kid. I heard you were back in town, it’s good to see you in here again. We’re having a slow night,” Gob rasps, cleaning the bar top with a rag.
“I made new friends,” Percy tells them, and gestures to me and the dog. “Gob and Nova, meet Charon and Dogmeat.”
There’s a flash of recognition in Gob’s face, and his shoulders droops, cowering. “Holy shit. Charon?”
“Oh right! You’re from Underworld too,” Percy comments, taking a seat near the radio. “You two are familiar with each other, Charon?”
“I cannot remember, miss,” I tell her, brain itching. I was thinking long and hard when the other ghoul speaks up.
“I-I uh, remember when I told you that Moriarty bought me from slavers fifteen years ago? Charon was with them.”
Fuck. I remember now. My mistress turns to me with an expression that I can only describe as horror.
“You were a slaver?”
The venom in my mistress' voice terrifies me, and I am not easily terrified.
“They held my contract, miss. Then, they sold it to Ahzrukhal.”
Percy’s face softens. The tension from her shoulders melt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” Then, the soft look on her face gets replaced with a worried one. “My God, they used you to capture slaves?”
“...yes.”
Tense silence.
“Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. Didn’t mean to dredge up the past,” Gob finally breaks it, fetching scotch from the liquor shelf behind him. “The regular, kid?”
“Yeah,” Percy replies, exhaling shakily. “Well, at least I’m holding his contract now. He won’t have to do that shit anymore.”
The corner of my mouth tugs upwards again and I hope she didn’t see it.
“Can I get you anything?” Gob asks me.
“Beer.”
I settle beside Percy, who’s already downing her shot of scotch. Gob hands me my beer and I take a swig.
Nova sits beside my mistress. “C’mon, let’s have some fun.”
#lone wanderer#female lone wanderer#charon#charon fallout#fallout charon#oc: percy zhou#fanfic: absolution#series: through river acheron#fallout 3#fallout#fallout 3 fanfic#fallout fanfic#writers on tumblr#tw: past slavery#cw: sex mention
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