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melodygatesauthor · 8 months

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The Only One

Dark - Duke Leto Atreides X f!Reader

Not Beta Read

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

The duke needs an heir, or Caladan will fall under the rule of his enemies. There's one woman is capable of saving the planet...she's the only one.

Tags/Warnings

Disclaimers: This fic does not comply with canon, throw everything you thought you knew about the Dune lore out the window. The duke is (in my opinion) in character for this situation, despite the obsessive tendencies. There is heavy non-con in this fic, it's not for everyone. If you're sensitive to that sort of thing in fanfiction, please keep on scrolling thanks. NSFW, non-con, rape, kidnapping, sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, lactation kink, pregnancy, blood kink, cockwarming, forced pregnancy, non-consensual bondage, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, body worship, pregnant sex, oral sex (f receiving), Dark fic, Dark Duke Leto Atreides. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 6k

Prelude

After many years of trying for an heir, Duke Leto has begun to give up hope. Without an heir, the emperor threatens to give away his birthright, strip him of his title, and hand Caladan to his enemies. He has been given only one final year to produce a son who will carry on his family name. While searching for someone who could give him what he needs, he happens upon a mysterious woman. The strange woman tells of a prophecy, one that Leto takes very seriously, because he has no other choice. "In a village, not far from here, my lord, there's a girl. She is not of noble birth, but I have seen her future, and she will give you many sons." Duke Leto, a kind and gentle man, would never hurt someone so innocent on purpose, but when faced with the choice of taking you, or losing Caladan to those who meant to oppress it, he must set aside his morality for the greater good...

The duke entered his chambers where you were suspended from the lofty ceiling, as he’d requested his men to do once they found you. A warm smile spread across his face at the sight of you, so beautiful, so scared. Leto stepped forward, nearly jumping when your head shot up and your tear-stained eyes locked on with his. He held one hand behind his back in a regal manner, holding the other out to touch your cheek as he closed in on you slowly.

“W-wh…” you cleared your throat, “where…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, brushing his thumb over the soft skin of your beautiful face, “you’re safe now. There’s no need to panic.”

Despite his words, it was clear you were terrified, struggling to breath in a normal, even heave. No matter the fear you displayed in your eyes, the duke’s expression remained calm, and filled with adoration.

“I know you’re frightened. It is…expected,” he said softly, standing up straight and casually walking to his wardrobe. “Would you care for some wine perhaps? Or I can call for the doctor, he could provide you with a mild sedative?”

He turned to look at you, your head was hung downward once again, naked body trembling and rattling the chains that held you in place. He wasn’t a cruel man, though he suspected you thought he was. He’d never done something like this before, sending his guards out to retrieve a young woman to keep in his chambers indefinitely. A nearly inaudible sob escaped your lips.

“No need to cry my dear, you’re not in any danger,” he said, beginning to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal piercing through the room. “In fact, you’re going to be very well taken care of here. Do you have any idea just how lucky you are?”

You cried harder, sobs becoming even louder as you looked up at him again. He removed his shirt, revealing his warm, sunkissed skin. It was hard to tell, but he appeared handsome through the blur of your tears. You dropped your head again, your neck aching from the position you were in. Your arms were pinned behind your back, body bent forward at the hips, leaving your rear exposed and open. Your thighs ached, legs spread wide, forced open by a metal pole secured between your knees. The ache in your chest from your labored breathing was horrid enough, only made worse by the chains wrapped around you, keeping your torso held upward and parallel to the stone floor.

“You don’t even realize that you are the most important piece to maintaining our way of life of Caladan,” he continued, removing his pants completely and letting them fall to the ground. “I have been unable to find anyone compatible. Perhaps it’s that my genetics are too much for the average woman to carry to term.” He stepped closer to you, cock bobbing heavily with every stride. “But you’re not average, are you my dear?”

“P-please,” you croaked, “I…I…”

“No no, not another word. You’re frightened now, yes, but you’ll soon realize the important work that you were made for,” he walked past you, running his hand along your arm and to your hip as he did. “The important job you’ll be doing for me…”

You whimpered, struggling slightly against your restraints but to no avail. The duke used to pride himself on being an honorable man, and even in this morally reprehensible moment, he felt justified in his actions. He didn’t always like what his duty called him to do, but knowing it was for the greater good, he would do almost anything.

“You see my dear,” he cooed, “you were found for me, a beautiful, fertile woman who is prophesied to give me many children…” he leaned into your ear, “many.” His tone turned to a low rumble. “So even though this may seem sudden, you will realize with time that you’re fulfilling your purpose…your destiny.”

His right palm splayed over the globe of your cheek, moving toward where your body was spread in two. He didn’t like hearing you cry, but he knew it was inevitable. No normal girl would consent to being abducted and restrained in a man’s bedroom, not even the duke’s bedroom. He saw your puckered hole, and he pressed his index finger to it gently, inciting a gasp from you, followed by the rattling of the chains. You cried out, begging him to release you, but your wails fell on deaf ears.

“I know you care about Caladan, our people. I know you care about the Atreides legacy, and you know…” he spit between your crack, letting his warm saliva trickle from your rim down between your folds, “you know I need a strong, healthy heir.”

Leto positioned himself behind you, using his hand to fist the fat tip of his cock at your glistening entrance. The metal pole keeping your legs spread for him creaked with tension as you struggled to close your thighs, a pointless endeavor. He sighed heavily, gliding his head between each crevice of your pretty little cunt, making himself slick with your arousal.

“You must think me to be a cruel man, but you’re mistaken darling. I don’t want to hurt you, and if you’ll relax this will be much less painful for you.” His breath was ragged with an almost animalistic desire. “You must understand, however, that I care far too much about the future of my people not to provide them with an Atreides heir.”

No matter how hard you tried to escape the flesh splitting thrust of his wide girth, your attempts were futile. A pained scream echoed off the walls of his chambers, followed shortly by the warmth of your blood against his thighs as he slapped them against yours loudly. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he wanted to get your first time over with, and not drag it out any longer than necessary. He slowed down after a moment, once your screaming turned to soft whimpers.

“You’re doing so well…” he huffed through his nostrils harshly “…I know this isn’t easy for you,” Leto leaned forward, grabbing one of your hanging breasts in his large hand, pinching the nipple gently, “b-but your body was built for this…it was built for me…”

“No, n-no…” you trailed off, feeling your head fall back down, neck aching still from the strain. A small moan left your lips, despite your attempts to keep it in.

“O-oh sweetheart is…is it starting to feel good?” The roll of his hips remained at a steady pace. “That’s wonderful, it will help with the pain, and your time will be more enjoyable for you if you can gain some pleasure from this as well, I don’t want you to feel misery if I can help it.”

“S-stop, please, my lord…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, continuing to palm at your breast.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against the soft skin of your spine. He could feel your tied-back hands fidgeting against his ribcage. His free hand moved to your left hip, holding it tightly to angle himself deeper.

“I’m going to fill you with every bit of me , every-single-drop,” he punctuated each word with a harder thrust. “I need to make sure you get it all, need to make sure it takes…mmph!”

Surely your noisy whimpers could be heard in the halls, yet no one came to help you. They all knew what was happening in there. You were to be the mother of the next Atreides heir. You would be made to bear child after child for the legacy obsessed duke. A breeding vessel for a desperate nobleman, torn between his kind nature and his need for the security and wellbeing of his people.

“The emperor will take everything I have if I can't secure my bloodline. He’ll give it t-to the…” he whimpered and gulped deeply, “Harkonnens, and I can’t let that happen to my people.”

You could hear nothing over your whimpers save for the wet slapping of his skin against yours as his pace quickened. You didn’t know what he was going on about - destiny, legacy, an Atreides heir? - He snapped forward again, a gravelly rumble falling from his chest. He moved to an upright position, letting your breast hang loosely once more. You wailed loudly, the feeling of his thick fingers leaving their impressions in the flesh of your hip.

“M-my lord, my lord…it hurts so…s-so-much-s-sir!”

“I know, but you’re taking me so well anyway aren’t you?” He looked down where your puffy little hole swallowed his crimson painted cock. “Look at that.”

His index finger touched where you were stretched around him, that little bit of skin that held onto his cock like it never meant to let go. You whimpered, chains rattling around you as your body involuntarily moved, only serving to sink you down further on his length once more. He could hear you hyperventilating, a panic-stricken whine punching out of your chest that he felt a tad guilty for inciting.

Until he remembered what your purpose was…the reason he’d had you brought to his castle in the first place.

He reached an arm around your leg, sinking the pad of his finger into the wet, bloody mess between the slippery lips of your cunt. In the sea of your arousal, he found the swollen bud that made your walls flutter around him. You gasped, and seemingly on their own, his hips slid forward, chasing that delicious feeling of your body finally accepting him, pulling him deeper inside.

“You like that don’t you?” He bit his lip, a breathy chuckle escaping through his teeth with the knowledge that he’d found a way to settle your terror, if only for a moment. “I promise, no matter how terrible this may be, that I won’t allow you to stay like this…and-s-suffer-oh-my…”

He felt your body squeezing tighter, walls contracting around his cock. He thrust forward again, shuddering at the way you were taking him, pulling him deeper, like your body was begging for his cum, like you needed him to feed your hole until you were stuffed and overflowing.

“Mmm-m-my-lord…p-please–”

Your tone was different now, more sultry and full of desire. It was good to hear you like that, moaning instead of crying, grunting with pleasure instead of pain. This would be so much better for you once you gave in, he knew that much. He could give you everything: make your body shake with orgasm after orgasm, clothes made from the finest silks, and comforts that were reserved for only the lords and ladies of Caladan.

“Your pleas don’t go unnoticed sweetheart, don’t think me cruel, I wouldn’t do this if the circumstances were different,” he huffed, breathing becoming more ragged with every glide of his hips. “I need you…Caladan needs you–needs-you-full-ah!”

The smooth roll of his hips slowed as his seed spilled into you. You felt it, warm and slick as it coated your insides white. You felt a sensation you’d never felt, rolling over your entire body and pooling in your core, causing your legs to shake and your mind to go blank. It was euphoric; a reprieve from the pain you’d endured for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than several minutes.

Leto felt your pussy walls squeezing, crushing down over his girth in waves while you moaned. What a sweet sound, one that made him feel mental relief that he’d given you something in return for your suffering. His finger slowed around your hardened clit, letting you come down slowly from your high.

As your pleasured whines subsided, you thought he would remove himself from you, letting your hole relax after such an ordeal, but he didn’t. The duke stayed there, hips pressed flush against your rear, making no motion to release you from his hold. You moved slightly, but he gripped tightly on your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

“No, no darling, no.” His voice was calm but raspy, still settling after his climax. “I’m going to stay like this for a moment longer, just to make sure it takes. We wouldn’t want to waste it.”

He looked down, seeing the way your body had bled on his, coating his pubic hair in a deep red shade. He felt for you, truly he did, but once you realized what an honor it was to be in your position, he knew you’d find it was worth the sacrifice. Your breathing was slowing, going back to normal, and after several moments he pulled back, letting his limp cock fall from where it had torn you open.

You groaned, feeling yourself become empty all at once. Your head hung down, neck finally too tired to hold it up any longer. You heard the duke tsk behind you, his palms pressing against your cheeks and spreading them further. The sound of dripping cum on the floor echoed through the room.

“Let’s keep it all inside, sweet one, I need you to give me a son,” he pushed his spend back inside you with his finger, what little was still there and had not fallen to the floor.

You winced and hissed, the metal holding you in place rattling once more. His thick middle-finger slid in deep, Leto shuddered as your hole clenched in response. He could hear you crying, a soft, defeated sound he wished one day would stop. But he couldn’t expect that from you, not now as he broke you in for the first time. He expected you would be like this for a while until you were used to him, used to his size, used to the way he kept you as full as possible, as often as possible.

“Your body handled me very, very well darling,” he said, idly fingering you as he spoke, continuing to push his spend back inside you. “Looks like I’ve made quite the mess of you, but don’t worry, I’ll have you cleaned up in a moment.”

He kept true to his word, once he was thoroughly satisied he’d kept his cum in you long enough, the duke turned onto his back, positioned himself between your thighs, and propped himself up on his elbows so his lips could reach your cunt with ease. A gasp shot from your lungs, the feeling of his warm mouth enveloping your sore folds bringing comfort to the ache. You moaned, a sound that represented more than just sexual pleasure, but a sound that told him you were at least accepting your fate…for the moment.

He was right, there was no more fighting, and it was clear your words weren’t going to change his goal oriented mind. His desire to have an heir was stronger than his desire to act honorably. His tongue went flat, you felt it soothing the tear of your hymen, then dragging upward and flicking once it reached the peak of your folds. You exhaled a sigh, cunt throbbing in response to the way he lapped at you masterfully.

“You know not many,” he kissed your pussy lips, “can say,” another peck, “they’ve been lucky enough to carry such an important role for Caladan. Even I’m not as important as you are right now.”

His hand reached up and pressed against your stomach while his mouth continued to melt into your cunt, soothing you even more as he cleaned you. He never felt such pride as he did in that moment, knowing that this was a good effort, even if it didn’t take. The sheer amount that he ate from you, in combination with his already discarded seed on the floor underneath him, gave the duke a sense of relief to know that he was producing sufficiently on his end. It wouldn’t take long for you to give him a healthy child, if you were indeed the girl the old woman had told him about.

You whimpered still when his tongue would touch your wound, though it was always followed with the relief of him dragging it over your clit. He slurped quietly as he continued, not making an indication that he would be stopping any time soon, despite the likelihood of you being clean already. The hand on your stomach moved, reaching up and cupping your breast, holding it and squeezing softly.

“Oh, my lord, y-yes…”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t deny the heat pooling at the base of your abdomen once again. Was it even worth trying to deny the way it felt? He was the Duke of Caladan after all. If he wanted a hundred concubines tied up to his ceiling he could take them, and no one would stop him. You should be grateful it was he who took you, and not someone who might’ve been much more cruel in their claiming of your body.

He hummed into your folds, breathing heavily through his nose as he did. His hand slid over to your waist, gripping around you and holding tight. The vibration from his moans, and the brush of his peppery beard against your thighs was causing your body to near release once more. That would only be the second time in your life that you’d felt it, and you wanted it more than you could bear.

“Mm, let yourself go my dear, I only want you to feel good from now on, now that I broke you in a little.”

His mouth never left your cunt as he spoke, his words only serving to draw your next climax from your body faster. You felt it fall over you, warm and heavy, making your body melt once more, going limp save for the involuntary crashing of your walls around the emptiness the duke had left behind. He didn’t stop until he was sure you were fully satisfied, head hanging down again and breathing returned to normal.

With a grunt he rose from beneath you. You heard him padding on his bare feet to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. If you turned your head just a little you could see him, much clearer now than before. He looked at you as he put a loose cotton shirt over his shoulders, then leaning down to pull his trousers over his legs.

“You’re simply the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in a gentle baritone, moving back to kneel in front of you. “I do not kneel for many, but I’ll kneel for the mother of my children.”

You strained your neck to look at him once again. He cupped your cheeks to help you, seeing your struggle and feeling sorry for the part he played in your suffering. He kissed your forehead, feeling the salt from your sweaty brow upon his lips.

“I’ll return every day, at least until I’m sure you’re pregnant,” his lips curled into a compassionate smirk, “then I’ll let you rest while your belly grows.”

He stood, striding to the washroom and leaving you hanging there, like a prized animal on display. Before long, the same men who’d captured you returned, undoing most of your bonds, save for the ones holding your hands behind your back. They weren’t rough, just like before when they’d abducted you. You felt your entire body sigh, your bones and muscles feeling relieved to fall back into place.

You weren’t sure when exactly you’d conceived. It must’ve happened at some point between that first time when he tore you apart, and the following month when your period didn’t arrive when it should’ve. By then you’d become, not unlike, a piece of furniture in Duke Leto’s chambers, restraints much less restrictive and painful than your first meeting. Only a week after he’d broken you, you’d become more willing for him, crying less when he came to take you.

“I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here, despite your situation, and since you’ve become so compliant, I think I can afford to make you more comfortable,” he’d explained.

And so he had you moved to the bed. Though you weren’t completely free. That was a risk the duke could not afford. So he had metal cuffs around your wrists, and chains that connected them to the stone wall behind the bed. You could move easier, but you could never leave.

When another week went by, two weeks after your torment began, he was swelling with pride, seeing you spreading your legs upon his entry into his chambers without prompt. You said you appreciated the silken evening dress he’d had the servants craft for you, the one that fell open on either side of your hips when you presented your cunt to him. He wasn’t supposed to love you - it wasn’t necessary for him to love you - but he felt himself overwhelmed with feelings he couldn’t contain every time he saw you.

Three weeks after that first meeting, you kissed him. It was clear he’d been holding back, allowing you to maintain some level of autonomy, despite having taken your body for himself so many times. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, force you to be intimate with him if that wasn’t what you wished.

So it was a shock when he was several moments into fucking you, cock sliding wetly along your walls in a desperation to fill you with him again, and you grabbed his face on either side. His hooded eyes shot up, meeting with yours but then quickly flicking down to see your precious lips closing in. You closed your eyes, and so did he, and everything seemed to slow down for a moment, including the pace that he thrust into you.

The slow roll of his hips was heavenly, and was soon accompanied by the feeling of his hand on the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss, gliding his tongue inside your mouth so he could taste you. The duke filled you faster than ever that night, being so engulfed in the moment that he couldn’t hold on any longer.

And now, it was just over a month beyond your arrival to Castle Caladan, you were sitting with the physician while he examined you, confirming that yours and the duke’s efforts had been fruitful.

The way Leto looked at you in that moment, was a look you’d never seen before. His dark brows turned up and stitched together, soft lips parted just before a smirk curled over them. He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, the glossy sheen of tears apparent in his eyes.

“After years of trying to produce an heir, I finally found a perfect vessel, such a precious thing,” he cooed, touching your stomach before leaning in and finding your lips with his own. “My most wonderful treasure.”

Leto heard nothing else as the doctor murmured about you, voice seeming background to where his focus lied. Part of him was still shocked that the old woman was right. She told him in his search of her prophecy that you, a normal village girl, would produce many sons for him, and she was right.

That night, the duke did everything he could for you. His kisses were softer, less desperate and more deliberate. His hands didn’t grab your flesh as a means to hold you, but rather to feel you. And when he sunk his cock into you, he did so in a way that emphasized your pleasure over his own, angling for those spots that made your body quiver.

You may not have been of noble birth, but to the duke, that night you were his empress. There wasn’t an inch of your skin that hadn’t been brushed by the coarse hair of his bearded chin. He worshiped you, giving you an evening dedicated to only your satisfaction.

For many weeks he would come into his chambers and ramble on about how proud he was, and how well you were doing. He would whisper the most depraved, while beautiful, things in your ear about how the people of Caladan owed you their lives, and how he couldn’t wait until it was time to breed you all over again. All of that praise was nothing though, not compared to the way he looked at you after coming back from his trip to Arrakis.

When he walked into his chambers, and you were there on his bed, only a couple short months away from birth, he stopped dead in his tracks. He felt like the words were trapped in his throat, and his feet were stuck to the floor. All he could do was stare, and take in the beauty before him. You were simply radiant, pregnant belly full with his son, his heir; swelling breasts nearly spilling out of your dress.

Once he found the ability to move again he slowly walked over to you, taking off his coat as he sat beside you.

“Look at you…” his voice trailed off.

“Hello my lord,” you greeted softly.

His hand reached for yours, and he was quickly reminded that you’d been a captive there, metal cuffs still wrapped around your wrists, rattling as he held you. He felt a pang in his chest, wanting desperately to release you. Every time the thought crossed his mind though, he worried you would run. You didn’t seem like you would try to leave, having become much more docile since your arrival months ago. There was also the glaring fact that you were pregnant, and it wouldn’t be easy for you to get away even if you managed to pass every one of the guards who might see you before reaching the doors of Leto’s home.

There was always that small chance though, no matter how slim, that you would leave. It was a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

He looked back at your body, eyes wide and trained on your stomach. The duke leaned in, kissing just above your navel, a satisfied hum escaping his lungs as he did. It was hard not to like him, and that was what you hated about him the most. The man was dedicated to his people, to his title, and his legacy more than anything. The longer you were around him, and the more time you’d spent under his care, the more you’d begun to understand your purpose within his walls.

The idea of the Harkonnens, or any other house for that matter, claiming the right to Caladan, should House Atreides produce no heir, was a frightful one. He broke you from your thoughts, eyes trailing up your chest and to your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, he looked so handsome, lips slightly parted with a few stray hairs falling into his dark eyes. Despite holding you captive for the sole purpose of breeding an heir from you, you’d begun to fall for Leto Atreides, against all odds.

“My sweet girl, my darling, you’re doing so well, growing my child in your womb. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to give me a son, to give House Atreides its heir,” he whispered, cupping your cheek, bringing his forehead to yours. “I’ve been disappointed so many times.”

“Thank you my lo-”

“No sweetheart, no, shh…” he pressed a finger to your lips gently before replacing it with a tender kiss, “you should be worshiped by Caladan, it's people…I want to worship you.”

His hand grabbed at your waist, pulling you against him into a deeper kiss. You felt his growing arousal against your thigh, followed by an involuntary rut of his hips. You whined, trying not to be bothered by the incessant ache in your chest, your engorged tits becoming too heavy and painful to bear. It was hard to focus on the duke’s soothing touch when you felt such discomfort.

He stopped kissing you, looking at you with concern, “are you alright sweet one?” His eyes trailed to your tits, “are they sore? Oh you poor thing.”

You nodded and whimpered, wincing as he pulled one of your straps down and pulled a heavy breast from its confines. Your puffy nipple had a bead of white sitting on it, threatening to trickle down the mound. His pink tongue darted out, lapping up the milk that nearly fell from your breast, and humming in approval of its taste.

“Let me help you my dear,” he said softly, leaning in and latching his mouth over your chest.

You gasped at first, the coarse brush of his beard stinging against the sensitive skin, but it very quickly gave way to a much better, more soothing sensation. You sighed in relief, feeling him suckling at your flesh, drawing out the milk that had been causing your breasts to swell beyond belief. He moaned against your skin, rolling his hips idly as he did. This was very unusual for him, to be so needy and desperate for you, clinging onto your body the way he was.

In the past, Leto would’ve just taken you if he wanted to, but with your body so soft and full with his child, he would resist. Of course he knew you could take it, you weren’t made of glass, but he wanted to give you nothing but comfort, emptying you instead of filling you with more than he already had in the past. He felt your hand reach up and grab the back of his head, delicate fingers massaging between his peppery locks.

“Mm, my darling, so sweet,” he muttered against your tit, a little milk dribbling down his lips.

You felt his hips moving more, now more deliberate before, as though he were accepting of his primal urges to find release, rather than suppress it, but still unwilling to ask you for help.

“It’s alright my lord, you haven’t…mmph…you haven’t been satisfied in some time. Do what you must.”

Even though he was trying to remain stoic and refined, your permission was all he needed to throw all that aside. With his free hand he tugged at his belt, keeping his lips pursed around your nipple as he did. You heard the unmistakable clanking and rattling metal as he found success, pulling the leather from the loops and tossing it to the ground. His dexterous fingers then made quick work of his pants, pulling them to his thighs.

Leto Atreides was a nobleman, not one to give in to such animalistic delights so easily, but something about drinking from your chest, and how perfect you were serving him and his house with your pregnancy made him feral for you. His hands were shaking as he tried to bring his cock to your hole. He’d done it so many times before, why was he struggling now?

“Sir…” you pushed him off your breast, biting your lip at the sight of him as he looked up at you.

His eyes were hooded, milk-drunk and heavy. The lips that had been suckling for a while were now pink, puffy, and covered in a white, glossy sheen. You lifted your leg, sliding yourself into a position that you were both parallel to one another. You wrapped your leg around his hip, angling his fat tip to your slippery entrance.

“You’re too precious, too g-good…oh…” His hips stuttered forward, opening you wide around his cock once again.

You hadn’t been with him in so long, your body had nearly forgotten how to take him. You winced, needing to readjust once again, but he was patient, holding himself flush against your hips while your walls moved aside for his girth. He let out, what sounded like, a low growl as he mouthed at your neglected tit. His hips remained in place, making no attempt to retreat, nor to glide in further. His cock rested there contentedly, throbbing every now and then.

He gulped, humming into your breast as he drank more, the ache in your chest slowly subsiding with every moment that passed. Eventually he moved his hips lazily, pulling back after a time before rolling back forward.

What the duke was feeling with you in that moment was more than a simple sex act. What he felt now was comfort, his cock buried in your soaking, slippery heat, and his lips pursed around your nipple. Leto swirled his tongue in a slow roll over your peaked mound, taking a moment to inhale several shaky breaths before going in for more.

The way he drew more and more milk out of you was causing your body to relax further, your walls becoming more open to his slow movements and deep strokes. A low moan escaped you, forcing his eyes to shoot up, still so dark in their feral hunger. You tugged his hair, forcing him to pull off your breast with a loud pop. Without hesitation, you kissed him, filling your mouth with a combination of your sweet fluids and the duke’s own signature taste

“You’re like no other. Not a day goes by that I don’t want to hold you close sweetheart…”

He brushed his nose against yours, eyes moving slowly from your lips, to your eyes, and back again. A swell of emotion poured through him, his desires going beyond just wanting to give you his seed, but it was something more. Your last name…it was wrong. He never wanted to take a wife, in fact, he’d vowed never to do such a thing, but you’d changed the very fiber of his being from the moment he’d found you.

“After my son is born, I’ll give you the best gift I can, the only gift I can give a woman of such importance…oh my…g…”

The duke lost himself, holding you tightly against him, though careful not to squeeze against your stomach too harshly. His choked moans vibrated against your chest while he filled you, pumping your body with his cum once again. You felt your own climax wash over your body, inspired by his own, drawing everything it could from him as it did, both of you a trembling, moaning mess.

He sighed with contentment after his mind cleared. He looked at you once more.

“I’m going to keep you,” he kissed your lips breathlessly, “I’m going to keep you here with me. I’m going to give you my name, and until the day I die you’ll be mine, my precious thing.” He pecked you again, and then pressed his lips to your stomach.

“I can’t wait to have your name, sir, and to be able to walk around the castle freely,” you said softly.

Leto’s blood ran cold.

Walk around freely…

Perhaps you’d misunderstood him, in fact, he was certain of it. He could see how his words may have been misconstrued. Evidently he would need to be more clear with you. The duke’s gaze darkened when he looked back into your eyes.

“My sweet girl.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead. “Until the day you are barren, I cannot risk any harm to you, nor your body.” His words were chilling, but his gaze was warm.

“You’ll never leave this room, so long as I can help it.”

Duke Leto Atreides Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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jade-len · 4 months

Text

i adore how mxtx sorta flipped the idea on the whole top/bottom thing with svsss, and just BL relationships in general.

making bingqiu very open to switching, not making the "bottom" super feminine and actually leaning more to the handsome side compared to the "top", how luo binghe is manipulative sensitive and cries easily, etc. one of the main themes in svsss is literally about sexuality (and possibly even about gender roles).

as a queer asian man myself, i absolutely despise the "yaoi archetype" and it was one of the reasons why i avoided consuming BL media. hell, years ago when i first saw heavens official blessing, i mentally groaned and went, "ugh, let me guess, the bottom is super feminine and innocent, while the top is masculine and experienced." of course, that's not the case now, but it's disappointing how that thought was there purely because of the god awful way fetish-y media portrays homosexual people and couples. because, believe it or not, we are not assigned male/female typical gender roles just because one likes to top/bottom (and even then, it's not even like that! some people have preferences, sure, but it's not so strictly "i'm top/bottom")

so, while i absolutely LOVE the english novel designs (especially luo binghe's cute curly hair, gongyi xiao, etc, and personally believe a lot of the takes from the western artist on the designs are an improvement), i am greatly saddened by people subconsciously assigning shen qingqiu as someone more delicate and feminine and luo binghe as someone super masculine and muscly. like, if you're going to have luo binghe depicted as the western design (i believe this stems from binghe being applied to more western ideals for men, and, admittedly, i actually really love his design), at least don't make shen qingqiu feminine and delicate? don't have his appearance play into the stupid yaoi thing?

i get that people have different takes on svsss, especially how the western version depicts it. but, people just... seem to very over exaggerate the top/bottom roles when it comes to bingqiu (again, these two are, canonically, VERY open to switching).

it's weird, it's uncomfortable, and it comes across as, "so, who wears the pants in the relationship?"

so, can we please have more canonically handsome shen qingqiu? canonically beautiful and pretty boy luo binghe (they literallly state that binghe looks EXACTLY like his mom, su xiyan! while a more handsome woman, is still very beautiful!! plus it is stated several times that binghe is slim, and that shang qinghua made him that way!) or at the very least, a BL couple who actually look like normal people (ok thats a little hard considering binghe is literally supposed to be perfect) and not just a stupid fetishized version of themselves.

and no, i'm not saying that queer men shouldn't be feminine or men who are feminine shouldn't be in a relationship with guys who are masculine, etc.

TLDR: please stop twinkifying shen qingqiu and going against what mxtx defied for us queer men (the stupid yaoi roles). and for the love of whoever you believe in, do NOT think that i hate the english design or people's personal interpretation of characters, i just hate the subconscious assigning of gender roles to bingqiu and how media portrays and fetishizes LGBTQ+ relationships in general.

edit: also i love teardrew's (check them out on twitter!) interpretation of shang qinghua. while i do really like the the eng novel design's tiny scared hamster vibes, teardrew's version just radiates "up to no good, paranoid but suspicious looking bitch" rat man and i love it so so so much. i'm not gonna repost their art bc i don't know how they feel about that but perhaps you can search up "svsss designs" on here, you'll see it pop up eventually lol.

edit 2 (1/16): i just saw someone reblog a post (that im pretty sure was referring to this one because, well, if you saw it i think it'd be a little clear kahxj) that was about how bingqiu switching and completely eschewing traditional top/bottom dynamics was a fandom idea or smth? so now i'm wondering, since i swear i remember that they were open to switching, but it's just that sqq preferred to bottom and/or was just a little too lazy to top. plus, sqq is a pretty unreliable narrator who says he doesn't want something one moment and then he does. how could he say no to bingbing? esp if he seems to wanna try bottoming too. perhaps i'm mixing things up though, idk? so if anyone can find that passage that says he only and strictly wants to bottom or whatever please show me! but i think the point of this post still stands haha (i wanted to ask about it, actually, but when i clicked on the og post's user it turned out that they blocked me ? so that was a little surprising oops. hey if ur somehow reading this, im... sorry for making you want to block me bc of this post? akdhxjj)

#JOIN THE 'STOP TWINKIFYING SQQ' GROUP #did i make sense? i have no clue i just wanted to rant about this #i really pulled a cucumber bro there huh #this also applies to GL #thinking about it more #there should be trans men and women bl and gl #and not in a fetishy way #of course luo binghe is still the big strong protag and taller than sqq but come on #i dont believe luo binghe is a twink exactly?? maybe?? but just feminine in a historical chinese male ideals way #for edit 2:#i was just saying how it made me happy that mxtx didn't follow the yaoi archetypes and how i lov her for it <3 #never said bingqiu was never done before and COMPLETELY flipped it over skdhjx #but i do believe that bingqiu did a good job providing variety and such :)#same goes for mxtx's other works as well i love her stuff sm #svsss #mxtx svsss #the scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #luo bingge #shen yuan #luo bingmei #bingqiu #luo binghe x shen qingqiu #danmei

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for not changing my OCs backstory?

Saw some recent posts about people fighting over RP characters so I thought I'd throw mine in.

I (F25) am in a RP server for peoples OCs. It's a small server for friends or friends-of-friends so everyone is either a friend or an aquaintence.

There's a channel specifically for people to post their OCs to see if anyone wants to RP with them. The posts are basically references with the characters name, appearance, backstory, etc. and a list of things the person wants to RP with them (smut, angst, medieval, coffee shop, roomates, etc.)

Anyways, I started RPing with two other people, Amy (F23) and Jenny (F25) recently and things were going good. We were doing a modern with magic type RP and all of our OCs met each other at a bar.

Eventually as the RP progressed my OC revealed that she thought she was a lesbian and then realized she was bi (they were all sitting at a table together commenting on other people in the bar and who they thought was cute).

Amy suddenly stopped responding to the RP so it was just me and Jenny, and I just figured that Amy was busy with college stuff so I didn't want to bug her about responding.

A few days later I get a DM from Jenny saying that Amy is REALLY uncomfortable with my OCs backstory. I'm of course confused and ask her why Amy didn't just message me. She told me Amy was really upset and didn't want to talk about it. I say "If she doesn't want to talk about it why is she telling you to tell me? If she has a problem she needs to tell me so I can fix it."

About 20 minutes later I get a message from Amy with a list of problems she has with my OC. The list said:

My OC is lesbophobic.

Your OC is saying that being lesbian is a phase (not at all what my OC's dialogue said during the scene, the word "phase" was never once used).

There's not enough lesbian rep in things and you're taking away even more.

You're replacing actual lesbian rep with an inferior straight character (yes, she used the word inferior).

She basically demanded that I change her backstory and make her a lesbian again, or AT LEAST make sure she ends up in a relationship with another woman.

I was pissed.

I replied back and said:

"Please go back and highlight the dialogue line where my OC stated that being a lesbian was a phase, because I searched the word "phase" in our channel and I couldn't find it. That word wasn't even used once during our RP, by any of us.

Also, there's nothing wrong with something being a "phase". People don't get one chance to pick a sexuality or gender and then get stuck with it for the rest of their life. Sometimes it takes people a while to figure themselves out. Sometimes things change.

My OCs sexuality is literally based on my own personal experiences. I thought I was straight, and then I thought I was a lesbian, and now I realize that I'm actually bi. I'm not lesbophobic for changing my mind, that's not what that word means.

If you want more lesbien rep then go make more lesbian characters. I'm not "taking away rep" because it was never there in the first place, and again, my OC is based on my OWN EXPERIENCES, and I as a person do not exist to provide representation. Why is lesbian rep more important than bi rep? I can name multiple, canon lesbian characters but I can only think of one character that canonically likes men and women.

I'm not replacing lesbian relationships with a straight relationship because even if she dated a man she would still be bi, not straight. It's fucking disgusting that you think a relationship or person is "inferior" because they're not the sexuality you want them to be. She's based on me, do you think I'm inferior for something completely out of my control?

I'm not changing shit about her backstory, especially not to coddle the feelings of biphobes."

She responded with a huge rant that I'm not going to post here but the TLDR is "You're lesbophobic and you hate lesbians and you're awful and dangerous and you don't care about good rep fuck you." and then blocked me.

I told Jenny what Amy had said and she said "Idk, it's not really a big deal to change it? It was a small part of her story and it made Amy uncomfortable :/"

So AITA for not changing it?

It IS a small, insignificant part of her story that wouldn't change anything if I removed it but for me it's the principle: I'm tired of bisexual characters (and people!) being treated as lesser or not as good as "real" LGBT+ people/relationships.

Also I'm planning on making comics with my OCs and I make sure that there's at least a few lesbian, gay, trans, etc. characters in each story so that EVERYONE gets rep. Which matters way more to me than "rep" that only like 15 people in a discord server will see.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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burst-of-iridescent · 4 months

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I'm writing this as a big Katara stan. I just found out that a new film about an adult Gaang is planned to be released, and Katara, like Aang, will be given a leading role there. I am so excited and glad that finally Katara will be given due respect as a character!

But for some reason, after searching on Tumblr, I saw joy about a new film in the entire Atla fandom except for our zutara community. on the contrary, there is a lot of discontent and bitterness. But why is that? Is it because zutara won't be in the movie? Well, yes, zutara is a fanon ship, it will never be anywhere but our fanfics and fanart. But after all, Zutara is not in the original ATLA show, and we still love it! This is no reason not to rejoice at the opportunity to see our favorite characters on the screen again, to see Katara again (God, I'm screaming with delight😍😍😍😍). Yes, there is a chance that the writing will be bad, but there is always such a chance before the release of any film. I'm just so happy to see Katara again, and the whole gaang too, and her new design for this movie seems so great to mе!

i mean this genuinely, anon: i love that you love katara so much, and i am really happy for you that you're looking forward to the new movie. i truly hope you enjoy it.

i don't want to speak for the rest of zutara fandom, but i can't share your feelings because - to put it point-blank - i don't trust the creators with katara's character. ever since they lost their writing team, nothing they've created post-atla has proven to me that they understand katara's character, or how to create a good arc for her. it's telling that the only post-canon comic featuring a decent story for katara (katara and the pirate's silver) came out in 2020, twelve years after the original show ended (and which was also, notably, the first comic that bryan and mike were not involved with).

i'm sure some people are salty that they won't see canon zutara, but personally i'm relieved that i won't have to see bry.ke ruin romantic zutara like they did with their friendship post-atla. i'm sure they'll do their damnedest to fuck up what remains of zuko and katara's platonic relationship in the new movie, which is why canon ended for me with the final agni kai. no magic pointy rock or canon ships in this household, thank you.

i wish i could share your excitement for the movie anon, but i just don't have faith in bryan and mike to do justice to the characters (especially zuko and katara) after everything they've said and created over the last decade. like really, calling zuko a bad boy in the year of our lord 2023? please watch your own show.

besides, nothing they can do for katara in this movie will retcon what they did to her in LOK. i already know she ends up as a sad, lonely housewife without any real power, impact or legacy; that can't be changed, no matter how they try to "fix" it. it looks like the movie has been delayed so my hope is that it just gets cancelled in production. atla has been milked to filth anyway; leave the og characters alone and do something new with the universe, or just let it rest in peace and find another story to tell.

#anti bryke #anti kataang #anti atla movie #zutara

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tsukimefuku · 1 month

Text

✎ᝰ. jujutsu partners au masterlist

mdni | canon divergence | multigenre | nanami x reader x higuruma

cross posting: on ao3 here.

ᝰ summary: ten years after a mission gone bad in which gojo and nanami saved your life, you go — against your will — to work at jujutsu high as a sorcerer. you just never hoped this would elicit working alongside partners, and getting too close to them might turn out messy. this is a sequence of one-shots set in the same canon divergent alternate universe, in which Reader is a sorcerer with a considerably complicated relationship with Jujutsu High.

ᝰ important info: they're all written and posted in a non-linear fashion. To keep some organized way of reading them all, the fics are listed in chronological order. Writing in this is kind of experimental, so writing style might differ from one story to another.

ᝰ a/n: blue for Nanami focused stories | orange for Higuruma focused stories | both for both | stories with other characters have no particular color.

+ Disclaimers

- CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT. Do not proceed unless 18+! - Contains angst, fluff, and slow burn. - There will be more multi chapter short stories. - The one-shots are listed in chronological order. - I write flawed characters — and when I say flawed, I mean FLAWED. They can (and sometimes will) be idiots, assholes, mess up, make mistakes and make up. This is an important one, please don't ignore it. - I called this a love triangle for the sake of simplicity, but it's a V.

+ One-shots, short-stories and drabbles (in chronological order of events)

Stories below will be tagged as follows:

To be loved is to be changed (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂 The day you arrived at Jujutsu High and encountered friends from the past.

These silly little memories (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂 You reminisce about the past while chatting with Ijichi and Yuuji.

In my shoes (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💥💔💛 You get severely injured while on one of your first missions with Nanami.

Tea for your thoughts (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛 Soft drabble where you receive tea waking up after a terrible night.

Valentine's Day and dark chocolate (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛 You bought a box of chocolates you don't really like.

Would you let me die? (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 You and Nanami have a significant conversation, and you request something of him.

Driving lesson (Platonic Ijichi & OC/Reader) 💛😂 You asked Ijichi for some driving lessons.

Wardrobe malfunction (Light Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂 Your cursed technique isn't exactly clothing-friendly, and when you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you only had one person you could ask for help.

Photo, motto! (Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi chaotic trio, light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂💛 Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi are shocked to learn you have no social media accounts, and decide to change that. However, things don't go as planned.

About witches and villages that hate sorcerers (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💥 What happens when your communication gets cut off during a mission in a village, and everyone knew you went there in the wrong state of mind?

Kikufuku picnic gratitude (Platonic Gojo x OC/Reader) 💛 Your friend Satoru Gojo just had some intense news and needs company.

The search for the man in the black suit (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥 You were assigned to find and capture Higuruma Hiromi, a curse user sentenced to death by Jujutsu higher ups. You're just not sure if he really deserves to die.

Toxic endeavors (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥💔 You and Higuruma are on your third mission together, and you save him from getting injured, putting yourself in harm's way as you do so.

Team fighting (light Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂 You decided to train team fighting with Higuruma in an unorthodox way.

Short story: Right, wrong and the in-between (Nanami, OC/Reader, Higuruma) 💛💔💥 You and Higuruma were assigned to investigate the disappearance of women around Shinjuku. This led to a dicey situation regarding what place Jujutsu sorcerers occupy in this world and what is their role to play when non-sorcerers get involved. Chapters: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Epilogue

Crooked gardening (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛 Higuruma keeps thinking about something you have done for him, and takes a walk to clear his mind.

Kindness and sunflowers (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂💋 You get a drunk Higuruma safely home.

Short story: Colleagues in arms 💥 Nanami and Higuruma are dispatched to exorcize a curse together, having to conciliate their personal issues in order to get the job done. Chapters: Single chapter

Where does your mind drift? (light Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 After you and Nanami get stranded trying to get back to Tokyo, you both end up having a chat about your feelings.

PRIV FOR REWRITE - The event, Part 1 (explicit! Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ You find yourself entangled with Nanami in his apartment, and worry where this might be going.

PRIV FOR REWRITE -The event, Part 2 (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💋 The aftermath of The Event, Part 1. Nanami needs to have a serious talk with you.

The man who played with fire (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ After some drinks by yourself and getting frustrated with someone, you stupidly knock on Higuruma's door to test a theory.

The morning after is still last night (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋 After last night, you and Higuruma share a brief pillow talk.

What if (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 What if the world was more forgiving, and you and Nanami never became jujutsu sorcerers?

Short story: Lover's Pass (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💥💋 You and Nanami were sent to investigate cursed activity linked to disappearances in the Lover's Pass. Meanwhile, you both still have to deal with the fallout that happened after the last time you were together. Chapters: Single chapter

Bartender confessions (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔 Nanami is trying to drink himself into oblivion to get his mind off of you.

Tactics (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ You and Higuruma finally go on your first not-date when you decide to give him an answer.

Human resources, tasukete! (Gojo / Shoko / Ijichi. Fluff Higuruma x OC/Reader, just crack, honestly) 💛💔😂 You're concerned and decide to ask your friends about Jujutsu High's HR policies regarding romantic relationships.

It takes one to know one (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋 You and Higuruma decide to make a promise to each other.

Tie me up (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 😂💋🌶️ After failing to make a romantic dinner, you're very upset. Hiromi volunteers to “help you out” with that frustration.

Tea and coffee (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💛😂 - You had a sleepless night and needs some caffeine to keep yourself from falling asleep before the day has even begun, so Nanami and Hiromi lend a helping hand.

Short story: Old regrets and guilt ridden pasts 💔💛💋🌶️ After you enter Hiromi's domain and he meets an acquaintance from the past, you both see yourselves confronting ancient ghosts and old regrets. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (10%)

Bread for breakfast (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied past Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔 - Hiromi decides to walk down to a bakery he likes and have breakfast before heading to Morioka, and ends up bumping into Nanami.

Fixing broken things (implied/soft Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💛 - After you realize that everything you were taking care of just wound up crooked anyway, you're pissed and needs a helping hand in order to not let the anger get the better of you.

Forgiveness is a collective resource (platonic Gojo & OC/Reader) 💔💛 - As you're telling Gojo about your most recent fallout, he ends up telling you in return the last question Geto posed him before leaving.

The letter (coming soon…) 0%

Bar discoveries (coming soon…) 0%

No more patience behind the wheels (coming soon...) 100%

Unwell (coming soon...) 10%

Books and dinner (coming soon…) 40%

Eulogy for the love remained (coming soon...) 30%

How do you say it? (soon) 0%

In-office nap time (soon) 0%

Something’s off (soon) 0%

+ About and P.A.Q. (Possibly Asked Questions)

Q: How did this come to be? This came into my mind as I was thinking about my Jujutsu Kaisen Original Character, Shiori Yamada. She is from my JJK Canon Compliant fanfic, Sand and Snow. I thought: what if she came to Jujutsu High years after the events of Sand and Snow? And that's where it started.

Q: What's the difference between the short stories and the one-shots? Mostly, I usually have a long or dedicated main plot in my short stories, whereas in the one-shots, what is written is much more focused on an excerpt of the characters' interactions.

Q: what is the best way to read this? I wrote it in a way that basically all one-shots can be read as stand-alone pieces (same for each short story). Just read in the chronological order of events, as listed above.

Q: is it the same f!reader in all of these stories? Yes, it is The reader is based off of my Original Character, Shiori. I didn’t intend to make her a staple, but just liked the character too much to let it slide. I’ll eventually make a reference sheet with her story (as soon as I finish Sand and Snow, to avoid spoilers).

+ Relevant updates + Notes

other updates can be checked on the reblog section

Playlist (a.k.a. stuff I listen to when writing these): ♪ Want me too - Mons Vi / ♪ Heart's a Mess - Gotye / ♪ It's gonna rain - Bonnie Pink / ♪ I love you so - The Walters / ♪ Ichigo Batake de Tsukamaete - Sunny Day Service / ♪ Setsuna - Sunny Day Service / ♪ For Emma - Bon Iver / ♪ Break - alex_g_offline / ♪ My love, mine all mine - Mitski / ♪ Babooshka - Kate Bush / ♪ One last kiss - Hikaru Utada / ♪ Tactics - The Yellow Monkey / ♪ Mr. Deja Vu - Naja / ♪ Stuck on the puzzle - Arctic Monkeys / ♪ We’re all eating each other - Julie Ivy / ♪ Head Over Feet - Alanis Morissette (HiguReader specific) / ♪ Nothing in my way - Keane (NanaReader specific) / ♪ I bet on losing dogs - Mitski / ♪ Chamber of reflection - Your Anxiety Buddy (cover) / ♪ Sunny - Yorushika / ♪ Sayonara Bye Bye - Matsuko Mawatari / ♪ Misery - Maroon 5 / ♪ First love/Late spring - Mitski / ♪ Heart skipped a beat - The XX

ׂ╰┈➤ You can listen to the full playlist here (on YouTube).

Update + Mar 26, 2024

I just decided to list all one-shots and short-stories together. Seemed more simple and efficient.

Update + Mar. 23, 2024

There are some things I want to put here because as an anxious writer, I like when other writers do this.

1. this is my COPIUM from the trauma I have endured during JJK (thanks Gege), so no matter what, THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING for all characters. I just like the bumpy road, makes the happiness at the end feel worthwhile.

2. I decided to one-shot the ending. However, the long fic based off of this universe will probably have a slightly different and bigger one. There are many things (protagonist’s power journey, lore, her backstory, actual big plot that I have planned, etc) that I really want to write on the long fic, and didn’t find a way of doing so in these one-shots and short stories.

3. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but I began cross posting these on AO3. The link is on the top.

4. The Big Sad™ and The Big Feels™ are about to get started. I’ll just finish up some one-shots first and then proceed with them. There will be angst, but a lot of fluff too.

Commentary

Random thoughts and fun facts from the author that absolutely no one asked for but I wanted to write anyway

Themes are... guilt, forgiveness, grief, and life after loss, I guess? Idk, I like writing characters interacting and growing with each other, so I just give them their trauma and let them work through it.

I first got inspired to write HiguReader when I listened to “Loser, Baby” from Hazbin Hotel. They’re both so over Jujutsu High’s shit and vibe on that shared contempt that I just loved the concept of it.

One of my favorite things to do is getting traits from a character and twisting them to be a double edged knife - a quality and a flaw at the same time. Basically, that’s what I did with Nanami’s protective persona, and intend to do (as of writing this on march 24th) with Higuruma’s sense of justice and responsibility.

I was terrified writing my first smut piece (The Man who Played with Fire), and I’m astonished at how well it was received. You guys are the best, seriously.

Nanami’s suffering will end soon (I say as of writing this, march 24th).

I got inspired by some very talented authors on this site to write non-explicit sex scenes, and will try doing it in two or three one-shots, where there is sex involved, but I don’t think smut would fit very well.

Writing smut as a demisexual person is an entire experience, let’s just say that.

From the very beginning, I just found it impossible in my heart to ship or even hint at shipping OC/Reader and Gojo. Also, as a NM person who doesn’t appreciate rigid hierarchy of romantic x platonic relationships, I wanted to write more on becoming friends with Gojo. However, from what I could see when writing these fics and shorts, this will end up mostly in the long fic.

I STRUGGLE with headers so damn much. I don’t like using fanart (shy to ask for permission), and finding good fitting anime frames/manga panels is usually a little difficult without becoming too repetitive. I’ll just try my best making headers for the AU stories moving forward.

I like writing strong, capable, willful female characters who are secure of themselves and have got some rizz iykwim. Dainty female characters are really not my thing when it comes to writing. I’ll eventually try writing more delicate or heart-warming female leads/readers, though, because we should strive to get out of our comfort zone.

Writing in 2nd person is still a challenge for me. I was used to writing in 1st person in a Lispectoresque style when I wrote ten years ago (also, I did it in my native language). “The Letter” will be (or “was”, depending on when you’re reading this) my attempt at transporting my original style of writing into English and reader insert.

#jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #fuku writes

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dekusleftsock · 6 months

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Y’all reading the newest chapter scans is like whiplash

I forgot how unhinged he can be, and tbh how much more unhinged he’s currently being.

Anyway Izuku is my favorite character so, sorry y’all, I know everyone is excited about Katsuki

However. Everyone else can talk about Katsuki. I live on my scraps.

Love how Shigaraki tries to get a dig at Izuku about Katsuki like how Monoma did when he unlocked blackwhip, so his immediate reaction is diverge diverge diverge.

Talk about repressed but this is a whole new level.

And his eye bags, they just make him look so exhausted.

I said this before but the chapter after Katsuki woke up Izuku looked relieved to me yes, but also… very scared. Very afraid of Katsuki’s well being.

Especially since, if we compare what Katsuki is doing now (using the pain as an extension of his quirk), you could EASILY COMPARE to when Izuku unlocked danger sense with shigaraki. How concerned and afraid Katsuki was in those chapters.

The thing is though, Katsuki was honest. He was honest that Izuku shouldn’t be doing this on his own, he’s being honest now—“I’m Kacchan of the Bakugou’s!”

He knows how he’s feeling and he’s letting himself feel it.

Somehow, Izuku still isn’t.

Hell, when afo ignores Katsuki, what he does is laugh about how much pain he’s in, but that it’s the key.

Let’s compare how Katsuki is using pain to how Izuku is using pain with danger sense. Let us not forget, danger sense is a physically taxing quirk, much like the rest of ofa. It causes a migraine when in any immediate danger.

Idk about y’all, but I get migraines so bad sometimes I vomit from the buildup of pressure. I can’t focus on anything. I just cant really imagine Izuku using danger sense that well in a fight… yet he does.

And, what exactly is danger sense for? To get out of danger? Maybe to avoid the danger? Ofa is an extension of Izuku’s inner turmoil, every single quirk exhibits this, and it would make so. Much. Sense. For danger sense to mimic his avoidance of emotions and vulnerability.

Katsuki’s quirk as it is now uses pain in a very odd way to me—he doesn’t try to use it to exit himself from the danger or pain, but actively searches for it. The pain is the key.

Danger sense is also a relatively self serving quirk, only really useable for himself. And for him to reference danger sense of all his quirks rn, it would make sense since…

Izuku has been self serving and avoidant since before even this fight. Hell, before even the war arc. Maybe this has gone on his entire life.

I want to hit him so bad for this y’all don’t GET IT.

And, just so we all know, he did this in 348 too. When confronted with emotional conversations, his first thought will always be “but how’s the fastest way I can win this fight?”

MY PROOF YALL IM SO DONE WITH THIS DUDE

“You see I have never once thought about hurting the people I care about like that!” Okay maybe be less boring

HM I WONDER WHY

THATS SO CRAZY DEKU

YOU TELL ME

WHY IS THE GIRL WHO YOU REJECTED AND THEN SAID THAT HER WAY OF LOVING IS SOMETHING YOU COULD NEVER DO TO OTHER PEOPLE (ALSO IMPLYING JUDGEMENT IN THIS STATEMENT), SAD RIGHT NOW?

LETS USE SOME COMMON SENSE PLEASE

I’m hyped for when Izuku is forced to be honest y’all don’t understand. It’s gonna be an angst fest and it’s gonna be romantic and I literally can’t see it not heading down the “explicitly canonical” path.

#is he really your favorite character if you don’t want to punch his jaw #bkdk #midoriya izuku #mha deku #bkdk brainrot #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #bnha deku #mha analysis #deku midoriya #like I want to hit him so bad sometimes because he’s so smart and so dumb #I wish I could kick him in the gut #call him stupid #tell him what he has to start acting like #and then say I’m sorry bbg you’re so amazing and you could do no wrong #and I’d lie to him with a straight face #<3

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cozage · 5 months

Text

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 19: The Morning of War

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.3k

Marco woke you early to run one last routine checkup.

“Still a happy and healthy baby you’ve got in there,” he said, giving you a nervous look. “You’re almost at month five.”

“Bell pepper month,” you said quietly, your hand rubbing over your stomach subconsciously. “Still so tiny.”

“And not very resistant to heat,” Marco warned. “So please, today…don’t do anything stupid. It’s not just your life anymore.”

“I know,” you whispered, staring at your small baby bump. You hadn’t expected to get so attached to this little nuisance. But when you weighed the thought of losing Ace or this baby…there was no contest.

Marco hesitated, watching you. He knew you too well. Your behavior was too perfect. You were scheming.

“Please don’t-“

“Just promise to save him, Marco.” Tears flooded your eyes. “Please.”

He knew how much promises meant to you. He knew you were asking him to promise the impossible.

“I promise I’ll do the best I can,” he said. “Let’s get you up to Pops.”

You were almost there. Almost to Ace. You just had to behave for a little bit longer.

“You’ll stay beside me through this entire thing,” your father said, sitting in his captain's chair. “I’ll need your eyes to find weak points.”

“Of course,” you said, nodding in agreement. You stood tall and proud, as if that role would be the only position you’d have all day. Your good behavior had allowed you to roam freely around the ship today, but you knew the commanders were all under orders to stop you if you tried to run onto the battlefield. Plus your sea-prism shackles were still tightly fastened around your wrists.

When your father’s ship rose from the sea, you stood at the bow of the ship, your eyes desperately searching for him. You didn’t care about the layout of the battlefield, you could examine that later. Right now, you needed to find him.

He was so far away. And yet so close. You scrambled up and stood on the railing to get a better view, but it was him. He was alive. He was safe. For now.

“No,” Ace mouthed in horror. He hadn’t even found you yet; this horror was from the sacrifice of so many that was about to be made.

You almost jumped down and took off towards him. But you needed to bide your time. Marineford was full of traps and different sections. You needed to see their hand before you put yourself into play.

“Ace!” Your father yelled out. “Bear with me, son. We’ll be there soon.”

“Father!” Ace called out.

There was an eerie silence amongst the battlefield, everyone waiting for the other side to make a move.

“Do it,” you whispered, gripping a rope to hold yourself steady.

Your father listened, and sent a shattering tremor through the sea. Giant tidal waves rose up, getting ready to crash down on the bay of Marineford.

But they never came. The bay instantly froze over, Aokiji’s powers activating and solidifying the waters.

All hell broke loose after that, every Marine aiming for your father and you in some way. But your division commanders protected you, and you took the time to examine the battlefield.

Thousands of Marines stood at different portions of the battlefield. Men with swords and guns, strange patterns and sectionings. You had examined as much of Marineford as you could beforehand, but the Marines kept this place a highly guarded secret. Yet there was something that felt off about the battlefield.

The canons. They were angled wrong. The walls were too low for a first defense. It didn’t make any sense.

Then you saw it: the invisible line where the first defense stopped and the second defense started. There had to be a secret there; perhaps a wall segment that was activated by a trigger of some sort. If that wall were to be triggered while all of the pirates were in there, they would be fish in a barrel; easy targets for anyone who wanted to pick them off.

At least one wall segment you’d have to get through. Though you had no idea how tall, how thick, or how it was activated. Practically useless information, but you reported it to your father regardless.

And your father called Little Oars into action. He didn’t have to give any directions, Little Oars just went straight for the guarded platform.

“Wait, Pops-”

“I know,” he said. “I made the call. Not you.”

“But he’ll-!”

“Quiet,” he hissed. “My men are more capable than you think. So watch.”

Cannonfire rained down upon Little Oars, but you refused to look away. You had caused this death and destruction. And when Little Oars fell to the ground, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for his untimely demise.

Ace was screaming from the platform, begging everyone to run. But nobody would listen; of course they wouldn’t. Everyone loved the second division commander. So much they would be willing to die for him.

You could see him drop his head in defeat, broken by the amount of loss he was being forced to witness.

“You better live, Portgas D. Ace!” You screamed at him, putting all of your rage and hurt into your voice. “Because wherever you go, I go!”

His head perked up, and he scanned the battlefield, desperately searching for you.

“And when I get a hold of you-” you paused to take a breath, tears streaming down your face. “I’m going to kick your ass! Do you understand?!?”

His eyes widened as he found the source of your voice, and you could see the will to live return to his body, ever so slightly. That would be your goal for now. Keeping Ace alive and keeping the fight in him.

You felt a shiver up your spine and turned to the source of the dread. The admirals. You had shown yourself, and you knew they would take advantage of that.

And Akainu was staring straight at you, a triumphant smirk on his face. You glared back at him, until his eyes slid down to the cuffs around your hands. He raised an eyebrow curiously, and you could see him mutter something to his fellow Vice Admirals.

Aokiji didn’t scare you when he looked your way, but Kizaru’s humored glance made your stomach churn. He raised a finger and pointed it at you.

Suddenly Marco was on top of you, slamming you down onto the deck. An instant later, a beam of light shot past where your head had been.

“No!” Ace’s voice wailed from the platform. “Stop! Don’t do this for me! Stop!!”

You tried to get up to see him again, but Marco held you down.

“They saw your sea prism,” he hissed. “They know you’re vulnerable right now, so stay down.”

“I have to see him!” You thrashed under him, trying to break free. “I have to let him know I’m okay!”

“We have to let the Admirals think they hit you!” he yelled.

“They wouldn’t fall for such cheap tricks!”

“No, but their attention will turn elsewhere eventually!” he argued. “Just stay still for a second!”

You could hear the shouts and the battle raging on the ground below where your father’s ship was, and you wanted nothing more to fight alongside your family. You were half tempted to throw Marco off and start the race toward Ace without knowing anything else about the battlefield.

You heard a strange grinding sound that shook the ground, and you knew they were raising the hidden walls. The next phase of battle had begun.

You took a deep breath and tried to center yourself. You couldn’t be rash here. You had to save Ace at any cost. So, you stared up at the sky and relaxed, waiting for the right moment to get back up.

You listened to the sounds of the battlefield, trying to gauge where people were based on how loud the sounds of their weapons were. Strangely enough, some of the screaming seemed to be coming from above you.

And then you saw a giant ship falling from the sky.

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5 @forgotten-blues @amberash05 @firefistnoct @depressed-but-make-it-cute @stuckinthewrongworld@lizpoir

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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domnamewoman · 6 months

Note

You know I've always wonder if the characters meet with a teen reader (platonic relationship) who can control elements. They found her by accident and saw her like catching fish using her water bending.

(sorry if I disturbing you. Please do tell me anything if I broke a rule or something because I'm trying my best to find your rule book)

PS love your Mortal Kombat :3

Title: Little Elements

Summary: You are a teen Elemental who is just trying to survive and find your mom after a mysterious sorcerer abducts her and banishes you to Earthrealm. One day while you are trying to catch dinner, you are ambushed by random men who believe you are the one terrorizing Earthrealm.

Warnings: Teen!GN!Reader, Canon-Typical Violence

Word Count: 1,479

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

What are you going to do? You can survive on your own, sure, but for how long? Who can you even ask for help? You don’t know anyone in this realm and from what you’ve been told, most Earthrealmers don’t even know about Outworld and its inhabitants. How can they help you find your way back, let alone your mom?

Your mom… right.

That bastard! As soon as you find him, he’s dead! You’ll make him pay for what he did to you and your mother. You’ll make him regret underestimating you and reducing your mother to nothing more than a puppet. When you find him you’ll… you’ll…

How will you find him though? You don’t even know his name. Thanks to him you are stranded in Earthrealm. You let out a frustrated sigh. You aren’t powerful enough to open a portable to get back to Outworld. Is there anyone here who is? How can you find them?

You angrily kick a rock and watch it tumble into the river in front of you as a wave of helplessness washes over you. You shake your head to clear it and take a calming breath. You’re no good to your mom if you’re frazzled and drained.

You’ll figure out a plan later, for now, you’ll focus on getting something to eat so you don’t starve to death before you can.

You stand at the bank of the river and let the sounds of nature calm you. The rushing of water downstream. The chirping of the birds’ morning song. The rustling of the wind passing through leaves. It’s almost enough to fool you into believing you are out for a recreational trek through the woods and not stranded all alone.

Raising your hands, you search for the ball of energy stored at the center of your chest and feel it unravel. It begins to spread across your chest, down your arms, and rest in your palms. You move your hands from left to right and watch as the river’s water swirls up into the air.

You parse through the water using your water bending to search for fish and wash them ashore. You are able to find three smallmouth basses and decide they are enough sustenance for today. You bend down to collect them when you feel the air suddenly become charged around you.

Whipping around, your eyes land on four men standing at the tree line. One of them shoots out his hand and a bolt of lightning comes flying toward you. You narrowly manage to dive out of the way and the bolt zaps the spot you were just in.

You feel heat erupt from your chest and plunge down your arms as flames engulf your hands.

“Who are you!?” You question as you take a defensive stance.

“Earthrealm’s Protectors.” The one wearing a razor-rimmed hat declares.

Before you have a chance to process this, another bolt of lightning is making its way to you. Unfortunately, this time you are unable to move out of the way fast enough and fall to the ground as your body shakes in pain.

After the shock subsides, you roll onto your hands and knees. Your breath is nothing but gasps as you try to get air into your lungs. How dare these people attack you unprovoked! Earthrealm’s Protectors? You aren’t doing anything harmful! All you are trying to do is get something to eat. What is their deal? It doesn't matter, you will return the favor of attacking first and asking questions later.

Resting both palms flat against the ground, you force energy through them and the ground begins to violently shake. The men are thrown off balance and it is just the distraction you need to execute an attack.

Throwing your hands out in quick succession, you send several fireballs hurling toward them. You watch as the four men jump around in an effort to dodge the onslaught.

“Now that wasn’t very nice, Hotshot.” One of them says while removing his sunglasses.

Your eyes roll as you scoff. “You’re one to talk. I can still feel the aftershocks from Sir Zaps-a-lot over there.”

“Sir Zaps-a-lot?” Asks the one wearing a… blindfold? Strange.

“Yes! He electrocuted me for no reason!”

“You appear to be no older than 14. Why are you here terrorizing Earthrealm?” Sir Zaps-a-lot asks.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m 15, thank you very much. Also, how is fishing terrorizing anyone!? I was just trying to get something to eat and you attacked me completely unprovoked!”

“Unprovoked? You have been going around causing earthquakes, fires, floods, and tornados in highly populated areas. You have killed innocent Earthrealmers and destroyed many people’s homes and livelihoods! Yet you claim you are innocent?” Razorhead bellows.

“How… I-I can’t do that!”

“Um… listen, Hotshot. We just watched you fish without a fishing rod. Not to mention the fireballs and mini earthquake you used on us. You definitely can do that.” Explains Sunglasses.

“Exactly! Mini earthquake. I can’t make one powerful enough to destroy people’s homes like you’ve said.”

The men stare at you and from their expressions you can tell they don’t believe you.

“Seriously, it wasn’t me!”

“There are not too many others who possess powers like you here.” Mr. See-no-evil states.

How are your powers uncommon? Stupid powerless Earthrealmers!

“Whatever, that still doesn’t change the fact that I’m not strong enough to create earthquakes, floods, or tornados on a scale large enough to destroy homes. I’m still in training!”

“Training by who?” Sir Zaps-a-lot inquires.

“By my mo-”

Why didn’t you think of this sooner? You know someone who is powerful enough to cause damage on a scale these men speak of. Someone who is currently under the hypnosis of a deranged sorcerer. You have to find her!

“Where did these attacks take place?” You ask as you take a step forward.

“Wait a minute Hotshot, who is your trainer?”

“My mother.” You began to pace. “About a week ago, some crazy sorcerer came to our house. I-I think my mom knew him? I had seen him talking to her before. Anyway, the day he showed up at our house he was acting all crazy. T-Then he did some weird magic hypno stuff and put my mom under some sort of spell. She would only listen to him no matter what I did. She was basically his puppet. He opened a portal and forced me to Earthrealm so I wouldn’t get in the way of his plans. I bet he’s using her to do all of the stuff you said. That bastard!”

“Okay, okay, calm down. You said your mother was taken by the sorcerer?” Mr. See-no-evil walks forward, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Yes! I know you have a blindfold on, but do you also have earplugs?”

“There is no need to get testy.”

“Can it, Razorhead!”

“Pfft… Razorhead.” Sunglasses chuckles under his breath.

“My name is Kung Lao, and that is not the attitude one should have when asking for help.”

“Asking for help? Who needs your help?”

“You do. How do you intend to find your mother? Are you going to take on the sorcerer by yourself? My name is Raiden, by the way.”

Dang it, they’re right!

“Fine, I’m sorry. You’re right, there’s no way I can beat him by myself. What am I going to do?” You drop your head in defeat.

Sunglasses walks up to you and throws his arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. We won’t leave you to face him all alone. We fight for the weak. That’s what Earthrealm’s Protectors are all about.”

“I’m not weak,” You grumble, resisting the urge to elbow him in the side.

“What he means is, we will help you find your mom and take down this insidious sorcerer.” Kung Lao promises.

“We will take you to Wu Shi and inform our leader Liu Kang of your situation,” Raiden adds.

“But we don’t have time for that. We have to find my mom.” You are starting to get impatient now that you know there is a possibility your mother is here in Earthrealm.

“We will, but we need to make a plan. Plus you have been out here in the woods by yourself for a while. You look like you could use some rest… and some food.” Mr. See-no-evil pointedly nods toward the three fish on the ground you caught earlier.

Just then your stomach decides to remind you just how empty it is.

“Alright, I guess.” You begrudgingly agree.

Wait a minute.

“How do you know there are fish on the ground, aren’t you blindfolded!?”

Everyone starts laughing and you feel as though you’ve been left out of some inside joke.

Mr. See-no-evil starts walking backward toward the tree line. “Come on, I will tell you on the way.”

Should this be a series? Also, we aren't even going to talk about the nicknames... I tried ��🏾‍♀️

#domnamewoman #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #Raiden #Johnny Cage #Kung Lao #Kenshi Takahashi #teen!reader #imagine #mk1 imagine #elemental #elemental!reader #elements #mk1 #mk

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ravenelyx · 1 year

Text

I love you in every timeline - Chapter 1: My Love Is As a Fever, Longing Still

← Prologue

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 14.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name usage for reader (only a few blank spaces), use of 2nd person for the reader, Sebastian is confused and doesn't know how to handle his feelings, and he's also struggling with his personality, veeeeery slow burn

Summary: "He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is long, and more is to come. It's gonna be a very slow burn apparently, but I hope you will like it. Finally Chapter 1 is here, it's been a while. Also, as much as I love fanon! Draco and Pansy, I decided to follow a more canonical approach here, sorry. Again, english is not myfirst language so I'm sorry if I made any mistakes. Never am I going to write about time travel again,my brain hurts.

I also made a playlist inspired by this because why not.

You can find the whole fanfiction here on ao3

"My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please." - William Shakespeare, Sonnet 147

You weren't her.

Then who the hell were you?

You briefly smiled at Sebastian and then turned back to the red-head, squinting. "Do you have the book or not?"

Ron gulped, avoiding your eyes. "It's probably in my dorm or something... I didn't have class, so I didn't take it with me."

"In your dorm, isn't that right?" Your eyes narrowed even more if that was even possible, and Sebastian was pretty sure you were about to hex him on the spot. Your leering didn't go unnoticed by either of the two Gryffindors and Hermione’s throat bobbed ever so slightly, eyes widening a little in alert.

"Well, as I said—"

"Here," interrupted Hermione suddenly, voice slightly squeaking. She looked into her bag and extracted her own copy of Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants. "Use this in the meantime. I take notes on the book too, unlike Ronald here, so it should compensate."

You accepted the book, seemingly calming down a bit. “Thank you, Hermione,” you said, enunciating her name sarcastically as you shot the other boy a nasty look, and Sebastian couldn't help but feel a touch of schadenfreude as Ron hung his head low, cheeks as red as his hair.

“I said I'll give it back,” said Ron, scowling. “It’s not like you need it anyway. Sprout doesn’t even make us open books!”

You politely smiled at Hermione, your eye slightly twitching at his remark, before said smile turned into a sneer as you looked at Ron again. “Then what the hell is taking you so long?"

Hermione sighed softly, dejectedly, and Ron shrinked on himself, sending Sebastian an unconfident look. But that only seemed to propel you to continue.

"And most people do open books for Herbology, my dear Ron, but I don’t expect you to know that. You’re too busy trying to find ways to whine and beg others to help your lazy ass later when they have other, more important things to do.”

Sebastian saw it happen, in a gradual, torturous slowing of time. There was something about you, in the way your lip quirked up, in the way your brows furrowed, giving life to that crease. Something that you couldn't stop, washing over you like a tsunami, drowning any possible thought of rationality and empathy. Control, in that moment, was appearance and nothing more.

He felt, for a moment, afraid; chilling his veins until goosebumps raised on his skin: a thrill, as if she was there. As if he was watching her unleash that godly power in all her beauty.

You were still, hands clammy at your sides, as he could see you open and close them repeatedly, and you weren't gloating. It was different; like that thick, foggy feeling that floods your brain when your opponent misses a step whilst casting Protego, or opens their arm a bit too much, making it easy for a well-aimed Stunning Spell to pass through, and it makes your cheeks turn red and your chest flutter, and Sebastian saw that twinkle in your eyes as you ignored Hermione’s pleading look.

The same thrill that makes his heart tug when he inevitably, nimbly raises his wand back. When the spell goes right where he intended it to go, and the deaf sound of a wand hitting the floor fills his ears.

It was that innate human side that took pleasure in pain. That part that could turn from a lambent glow into a Fiendfyre if you're not careful. Or if you really put your mind to it.

But you weren't duelling.

Sebastian wasn’t sure what to make of the way with which you were slandering your — he supposed — friend. And in front of him, too. It made him slightly tremble, his lip slightly twitch. Part of him wondered if he was invisible, part of him felt a little too alert, part of him pitied the girl in front of him.

And while it seemed Ron and Hermione were just as shocked, they had a sort of weary gleam in their eyes. And any attempt at smoothing things over was futile. Hermione feebly tried to intervene. “Oh, we don’t need to go further—”

“You see Ronald, for a Prefect you should really put some thought into the impression you’re making on new students, not to mention the one you should give of our school—” you ignored her and sarcastically gestured towards Sebastian, who felt his breath hitch at the sudden spotlight put on him, “and yet, you’re always so comfortable acting like a dimwit . Pull yourself together and be responsible for once.”

Ron’s jaw fell open, completely at loss for words at your harsh words, and he shared a look with Hermione that Sebastian was able to understand completely.

What the hell just happened?

He couldn't agree more.

“I think you’re overreacting,” said Ron sternly.

“I think you’re disrespectful,” you replied just as eagerly.

“Alright, that’s enough!” said Hermione, putting herself between the two Gryffindors. “It so happens we have a guest here!”

Sebastian felt his heartbeat quicken ever-so-slightly as both you and Ron turned to him like you had just seen him for the first time. He shifted his weight uncomfortably; an attempt to get rid of that eerie shiver that ran down his spine as your incensed gaze fell on him.

That seemed to snap you out of it, and your cheeks flushed a bit in regret. “Fair enough...” you muttered, nodding at Sebastian. “Sorry.”

He nodded back, unsure about what to do as he shifted his eyes between you and Ron, letting them linger on your face each time he looked at you. Your nose had that same curve he always wished he could kiss, run his lips over with reverence… He shook the thought out of his head immediately.

“I should receive an apology as well,” muttered Ron, and Hermione nudged his arm as a warning not to add fuel to the fire.

"You have one day. Just one." You gave Ron an ultimatum, your tone sharp and, Sebastian thought, quite frightening. He hoped to never find himself in Ron's place. “And don’t expect me to help you ever again, I'm tired of it!”

You didn’t wait for an answer and began to walk away, only stopping briefly to look at the Slytherin boy. "I wish you the best of luck, especially if he— " you glanced at Ron again "—has to be the one guiding you through this maze they call a school."

Sebastian gasped and opened his mouth to reply, but his words seemed to be stuck somewhere between his throat and his tongue. He let his eyes fleet over your face again, heart beating out of his chest as he tried to make out your features, like in a dream.

"I hope we'll meet again soon enough." You forced a smile on your face that looked almost guilty and embarrassed, and with that, you were gone.

His eyes followed you until you turned a corner and vanished from his sight, thoughts racing at a hundred miles an hour — questions with no answers clouding his mind more and more each second. Who were you? Why did you look like her? And above all, why did you bear her family name?

Even after the theatricals that he had just witnessed, there was a certain hope in his heart: traitorous and wrong. A hope that she was really there, somewhere, waiting for him. A hope he immediately wanted to crush as soon as the image of your eyes and red robes flashed in the window of his vision again.

Sebastian Sallow was utterly, completely, absolutely losing his mind.

He was aware of the gravity of his situation — his body still spasmed uncomfortably every now and then as a result of having travelled through space and time — but, Sebastian realised, it felt more like a trance. A painfully aware and too tight reverie he couldn't find a way out of. After all, just the night before, Natty had asked him if he wanted to take part in Summoner's Court with her the next day, hadn't she?

And just a few hours after that, Sebastian had decided to try his last chance, opening the artefact that, he had believed, would bring him back to a time where her sister wasn't cursed — a time he could have avoided the disaster. And not just one at that.

He took a deep breath, willing the halls of Hogwarts to become brighter in his vision, more real. He was indeed in the future, he repeated himself, his ribcage evidently too small to contain the excruciating throbbing he felt in his chest. He had to accept that. He did. Probably.

“Bloody hell!” Sebastian heard Ron mutter as he also stared at the point from which you had just disappeared. “What was all that for?”

“Honestly, Ronald…” said Hermione curtly. “We’ll deal with this later.”

Still, Sebastian felt painfully calm at his situation: the sort of calm that he only experienced when he knew he was in trouble and couldn't do anything about it, or when he knew he was in trouble and had the solution for it lying in his hands, teeming down his throat like a treacly and old pint of Butterbeer, or a briquette of ice, whipsawed by the choice of safely travelling down his stomach and melt and leave him warm and satisfied or change direction and chill his lungs and cut his breath and bring him to a freeze.

What would Sebastian, a calm and collected person (and he believed he was, or tried, at least), do in a similar situation?

Two options came to his mind, clear and painfully bright.

To freak out completely until he was in shambles on the floor, addled and ready to break himself and cut the edges of his persona to fit into the new reality he now essentially belonged to, though he still didn't feel like it.

Or estrange himself from said reality, seeing it through lenses, analysing the world around him as if he weren't there until he found a way to go back, like a spectator, a reader. And he was indeed a reader.

In a way, the very core of one was tantamount to the other — both would completely destroy him. And Sebastian Sallow could not allow himself to be destroyed. Not like this.

But then there was another, the one Sebastian desperately willed himself to adopt, keeping his edges glued to himself and the lenses away from his perfectly working eyes.

The one he followed when everyone had lost hope for Anne.

And that was any option available, and every rational thought, even if the sound of them — or anything else, really — was still drowned by the loud pounding of his heart reverberating at the thought of the girl who just flipped his world upside down.

“What did you say her name was again?” Sebastian asked the two students, his eyes never leaving the corner you had just turned.

Ron and Hermione both looked at him with surprise; Ron opened his mouth with a scowl, as if about to make a snarky remark, but Hermione interrupted him, repeating your name calmly.

That was indeed the name.

And so he tried to be as rational as possible.

“Thank you,” said Sebastian quietly, lips parted, gaze musing. “I’d forgotten that just there.”

You were her descendant, a hundred years from his time.

Sebastian couldn't remember her having any siblings or cousins who bore her surname, but if you did, you had to have received it from a male member of her family, didn't you? She couldn't possibly have given you her name unless she married someone from her own bloodline, and Merlin, he hated that thought.

Or she had married someone else and decided to keep her own surname instead, and, once again, Sebastian knew — it wasn't his first thought, of course, but certainly one that plagued his mind — that he couldn't have been the one she had married, because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he'd have burned down the world just to get her to take his last name.

His thoughts circled back to her family, but try as he might, he couldn't pinpoint any related members from whom you might descend. He was starting to feel dizzy and sure to be on the brink of collapsing under the amount of information he was trying to process, but then Ron and Hermione pulled him out of his trance by starting to explain the rules of the castle, the classes to attend and some basic information about the Professors.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts changes every year; they say there's a curse on the chair or something," explained Ron, having calmed down a bit, and half-smiled, "so you won't have to see toad-face for long."

"Toad-what?" asked Sebastian absent-mindedly, his head still teeming with disjointed thoughts and meandering ideas which, Sebastian was sure of it, would never find a proper abode.

"Our new Professor. You'll see what I mean when you meet her for the first time."

Sebastian nodded occasionally as he listened to them talk about the other Professors, such as Snape, the Potions teacher, and also the Head of the Slytherin House. Ron kept going on about how annoying he was, trying not to show how much he was afraid of him. "You don't have to worry, though: Slytherins get special treatment from him," he said jokingly.

Ron, Sebastian decided then, was a nice fellow. He found himself wondering why you had reproached him so harshly. He had half-a-mind to ask, then, about your behaviour — and why both the two Gryffindors seemed to be far less surprised about it than he expected. He decided against it.

"Wait, what do you mean, she won't let you use spells?" Sebastian frowned as they talked about 'toad-face', alias Dolores Umbridge.

"She's from the Ministry," explained Hermione. "After what happened last year, we're sure they're doing everything they can to keep the school under control and make sure no lies—" she stroked the word sarcastically, "—are spread among the students.

"I'll explain everything later. We should focus on more important things, like your academic persona and your education," she added, noticing his confused expression.

She was definitely Prefect and worthy of her role too, at least if you went by the typical clichés.

The hours passed, and there wasn't a minute when Sebastian didn't think of her.

And of you.

Because the more time he spent walking, the more his rationality seemed weak and pointless.

He thought he'd go mad, her memories spoiled by your oh-so-similar but equally different features. He saw your eyes looking at him back in the Scriptorium, as she was ready to take the Cruciatus Curse rather than cast it on him. He saw a Gryffindor sitting by him in Herbology, stealing not-so-subtle glances while tending to the mandrakes. He felt like his mind was splitting in half, frustrated and embittered and close to tears as you tainted his remembrances of her.

He needed to see you again, talk to you, ask about your life, your family, your past. He needed to know every thought behind your eyes, every subtle expression towards him that could mean you recognised him, that you were her, that you remembered him, remembered your time together, that you'd follow him in all his antics, in all his mistakes, in all his choices, that your actions meant more than your words.

That you loved him as he loved you — as he loved her.

Her.

Not you.

Because he didn't need to talk to you. Because indeed your recent actions spoke louder than words ever could.

Because no matter how much Sebastian fooled himself into thinking that he wasn't alone, stuck in a world that had gone on without him for a hundred years, that she returned his feelings the way he thought she did, that somehow you'd look at him and know that she was meant for him, that you were meant for him, you weren't her . You didn't know him. You could never know him as she did, and not because he wouldn't let you in — he'd run to you even now and lay his heart open if it meant finding a faint resemblance to what it used to be — but because he couldn't allow it. He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her.

At that moment, Sebastian made the decision to stay as far away from you as possible.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he reached the Great Hall. He hadn't noticed that it was already lunchtime.

"Do you think Dumbledore will make a speech to introduce him or not?" asked Ron, not caring that the Slytherin boy could hear him loud and clear.

"I don't think he'd just let it go, but I hope it won't be as big as last year's," noted Hermione.

"Those were two bloody new schools, Hermione. This one must be different."

He felt like a new Honeydukes product hitting the shelves for the first time.

It turned out the Headmaster hadn't made a speech to introduce him, and Sebastian almost would have preferred it if he had, because he felt like a circus monkey sitting at the Slytherin table with a hundred eyes staring at him like he'd just broken into their home and stole a particularly rare card from their Chocolate Frogs collection. He looked around at the other tables and saw heads turning away so quickly that he was sure he would be the culprit in a mass murder with a thousand broken necks. He sighed as a girl with dark hair and green eyes sitting opposite of him handed him mashed potatoes.

"Do you want to eat or not? No one poisoned your food just because they don't know you."

Sebastian glanced at her and accepted her plate, munching his food slowly as if he didn't quite believe her.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"Sebastian Sallow."

"Sallow? Never heard of that name. What's your blood status?"

He almost choked on his food at her blunt question. What kind of uncivilised conversation was this? And the way she looked at him, waiting for his answer, he knew that that question alone could decide his entire future — hopefully a short one — in that House.

"I'm a pureblood like you, I suppose," he lied, lifting an eyebrow as he blankly stared at the girl.

"I see," said Pansy, narrowing her eyes as if not fully believing him. And Sebastian knew it was probably time for him to make up a story, a lie he could tell everyone in the indefinite amount of time he was to spend among them.

He had put a great deal of thought into what wanted to tell in the past hour — he could, after all, be anyone. Anyone he wanted.

He could change his past, he could avoid his mistakes, he could pretend to be a normal boy with a normal life. He could just be.

In the end, it didn't matter, because while other people might look at him and see only a picture-perfect new student with a thirst for knowledge, he would look at himself and see the boy who tortured his friend, the boy who murdered his uncle.

They might not know, but he would.

He kept the edges tight against his body, and decided to opt for a half lie that made it easier for him to play on and not forget any details.

He told her that he wasn't from the Highlands. He told her how his parents were Professors at another magical school but died prematurely, and left him to live with his uncle, a former Auror. And he told her about his timely death as well, omitting, of course, his involvement in it.

"When he died, too, I decided to move here," he concluded simply, hiding the tremble of his lips behind a glass of pumpkin juice.

Part of him expected sympathy from her, or at least a hint of hesitation; that look he had become so accustomed to whenever people came to know about his tragic tale or something along those lines.

Surprisingly — though, for some reason, Sebastian wasn’t surprised in the slightest — Pansy Parkinson didn't seem to care at all.

"Were your parents true purebloods or filthy blood traitors like the Weasleys?" she asked instead, clearly showing where her priorities lay, and it was enough for him to know that his earlier hope that there would be no more discrimination was merely a child's prayer.

"They have magic. That's the only thing you need to know." Sebastian cut short before focusing on his food. He noticed the familiar badge on her robes and silently thanked Dumbledore for assigning him to the Gryffindor Prefects instead. At least they never judged him, not even for dwelling with time and space like a bloody idiot — though he believed he had seen a gleam of reproach in Hermione's eyes as she'd uttered the word 'misadventure .

"All right, I believe you." She shrugged.

Sebastian wasn't convinced.

Pansy nudged a boy beside her, who looked at him with his piercing grey eyes. He was pale, with sleek blond hair so light it almost looked white, and also wore a badge. He reminded Sebastian of Ominis. That must be Malfoy.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," — it hadn't been so hard to guess, though now Sebastian thought he'd rather not meet him at all — "I saw you walking around today with that skint blood traitor and that mudblood Granger. You should have been assigned to us. It's not worth it to taint your blood status by associating with such filth," he spoke venomously, a mocking tone punctuating his sentences.

Skint blood traitor. Mudblood. He was exactly like those boors Sebastian so enjoyed thrashing in Crossed Wands when they had the guts to join. Perhaps he could do the same with him — blast him with Bombarda until his hair turned black (or he went bald; any of them would do).

Sebastian didn't know why he suddenly felt like defending the honour of two people he had met that same day, but he wished he could poison his food instead.

"Maybe next time you'll be considered fit for your assigned role. I suppose all that purity didn’t take you that far this time," he replied just as rudely.

Draco Malfoy made a weird face — a mix between stunned and angry and that half smirk that had begun to creep up his face as he had expected Sebastian to agree with him, and that had died on his lips but not yet fully, and the whole thing was so comical Sebastian had to hold back a snort. Because that was not (not in a million years, no matter how many artefacts he accidentally opened) going to happen, and when Draco Malfoy realised it, he seemed to have a hard time closing his mouth back to a dignified expression.

"I'd be careful if I were you, new student. I'm a Prefect!" he threatened, squinting his grey eyes and finally gaining enough control to curl his lip into a small smirk.

Spoiled bragger, Sebastian thought.

"And what exactly are you planning to do — take points away from your own House?" replied Sebastian, smirking back, enjoying how his face turned back to that ferret-like countenance.

"We share the same dormitory. Choose your words carefully." Draco Malfoy pursed his lips, his face becoming even paler. Sebastian wondered if he had even an ounce of blood in that body of his.

"We do indeed, so I suggest you sleep with one eye open," retorted Sebastian. Part of him knew that, logically, he should have been more mature about the situation.

But Merlin, he was starting to despise the brat.

(And the other part of him was still fantasising about that Bombarda-induced vengeance).

"You think you can scare me?"

Draco Malfoy snickered, and the line of Slytherins sitting on his side began staring at the two boys with piqued interest, wondering what all the fuss was about. It was quite unusual for two Slytherins to argue so openly, and even students from other Houses had begun to turn their heads towards their direction. Two big students beside Draco Malfoy snickered, too, as if on cue. Sebastian felt a wave of repugnance at how pathetic they looked.

"Definitely not, especially when you have your guard dogs next to you." Sebastian nodded at the two students mockingly. "Tell me, does your father pay them to be by your side? They can't be that stupid to volunteer to be in your presence."

The blond appeared to want to eat him alive, while the other two took a bit longer to fully understand his words before reproducing the same angry expression. Perhaps Sebastian understood your outburst: it was indeed gratifying to pour his disdain out. Though, unlike you, Sebastian didn't feel an ounce of regret.

"All right, Draco, enough of this," interrupted Pansy with a sigh, before giving Sebastian a hateful look. "He's a blood traitor like Weasley, and he'd better take care of his priorities."

Sebastian ignored her, focusing back on his food and already dreading the idea of having to share his Common Room and dormitory with people like that. Maybe he could sleep in the Undercroft for the rest of the year. He wondered if that place still existed at all.

Strangely enough, the aftermath was quite unsatisfactory, and Sebastian felt his cheeks warm up as he realised he had indeed acted like an immature git, stepping down right at their level. He stared at his half-empty plate, abashed.

The time passing, then, felt particularly chilly under his skin.

After he felt content enough with his lunch, Sebastian stood up, ready to meet the two Gryffindors again. He faltered a little as he looked around their table, his chest squeezing as he caught a glimpse of you. And not just a glimpse.

He watched you as you engaged in a happy conversation with a red-haired girl next to you: she scarily resembled Ron, so he deduced that she must be his sister. The two Prefects sat opposite you, and on your other side was a boy with messy black hair and round glasses.

Sebastian noticed how you tried to avoid Ron's eyes, only glancing up at him through your lashes from time to time before looking back at the girl, and he wondered if you would even apologise or if you were waiting for the red-head to do so. How proud were you? How much did you care? To which length were you willing to go for the people you loved? Sebastian felt a compulsive need to know it all, a new wave of hunger right in the pit of his stomach, completely empty even after his heavy, albeit displeasing, lunch, and ready to be fed by what all he could find about you. He needed to know every last bit of information, if it was the last thing he did in that new world.

That eerie calm chilled his bones again, moderately assuaging his desire, like a glass of cold water before supper. Sebastian realised he was stuck, so he had no rush to do exactly that. He didn't need to be greedy, to devour — though the idea was tempting indeed — and to gobble up every bit of you yet. He could feast, he could savour, he could indulge in his sumptuous meal like he deserved. And then he would find his way back, satiated beyond belief.

Now that would take his edges off.

He shook his head, derailing that tingly feeling running down his lower stomach before it nestled, and averted his eyes, instead noticing that barely anyone had left the Great Hall, and he was the only Slytherin standing. He quickly walked out of the room and rested against a column, wondering if he should wait for Ron and Hermione to finish eating and meet him, or if he should just go alone.

Sebastian decided to walk to the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower, to the Undercroft, praying it would still be there, untouched by other students. When he arrived, he saw the familiar clock, and his heart swelled in fear and anticipation as he took out his wand and flourished it like he had done so many times he practically relied on muscle memory alone.

The clock hands started to turn, and he breathed a sigh of relief as a door opened to the familiar room that he considered an analogue to his house. He stepped in carefully and looked around. The furniture hadn’t moved an inch in a hundred years, still in the same position that Ominis knew by memory. He wondered about him: if he knew Sebastian would one day disappear forever only to remain stuck in the future, if he had waited for him in that same room hoping for him to come back, or if he was glad he was gone after all.

Sebastian wondered if he would ever return to his time: if Ominis and Anne had been waiting for him their entire lives, getting old without him, and if they had hoped that they would one day see him again, and then he had another terrifying thought: what if he went back yet it was too late?

What if all of his pals were much older than him once he did? What if, upon his return, he discovered Anne still suffering the effects of the curse, or worse yet, already deceased? What if Ominis had been made to return to his family, where he would have either changed into one of them or been tortured and murdered? What if she had found someone else to fall in love and share the rest of her life with, or what if the perilous journeys she was compelled to take killed her and he had not been there to save her?

"Scourgify!" he declared, pointing his wand at various objects around him to clean them, wishing he could reproduce the same effect on his mind.

Once he was done, he sat down, leaned against a column, and put his head in his hands, breathing deeply and feeling his eyes burn.

The calm had gone, replaced by pure, utter despair and panic. It had only been a few hours since he'd found himself there, confused and startled, and he knew it would be many more until he went back — if ever.

If ever.

The thought cut at his lungs like sharp glass, drawing quiet and wet sobs. He didn't know whether the artefact could ever be repaired at all. He didn't know whether he could control it enough to go back if it was repaired. For all he knew, he'd find himself in bloody Mesopotamia, if he was lucky enough to survive another travel. Or he'd get stuck between time and space, forever embedded in the threads between realities.

Based on those thoughts alone, Sebastian felt like he should be grateful to have found himself still in Hogwarts, as safe as he could be, but he wasn't.

He missed his routine, his life, his friends. He had disappointed Ominis, but he would give anything to hear his voice now, even if he yelled at him, to see Anne even if she did not want to see him, to read their old letters over and over again, to accompany her on whatever adventure she was setting out on. Heck , he wanted to hear Headmaster Black's voice scolding him for his horrible detention record, listen to Poppy ramble about her dear magical creatures, see Garreth blow up his potions, and even wanted to hear Imelda complain about Quidditch being cancelled. He missed it all.

He spent some time there alone — he did not know whether it was minutes or hours — weeping silently to himself. His wrists copiously moved to his eyes in a weak attempt to dry his tears, which kept falling nonetheless, undaunted, wetting his cardigan and shirt and skin.

Sebastian had always prided himself in his capacity to bottle up emotions, to avoid the crying and instead channelling those goopy feelings into something more useful, like studying or spellcasting. That had backfired, and Sebastian had to learn, awfully, that doing that didn't mean those emotions wouldn't force their way out in a way or another, and after what had happened in the Catacombs, where his feelings had exploded in the worst way imaginable, he had reluctantly decided that crying alone was the best way to let them flow naturally. With that and everything that had happened to him within a few weeks, not to mention the previous events, he felt overwhelmed.

He hated it.

After drying his tears as best he could, hoping that no one would notice his glistening eyes or swollen face, he decided to leave the Undercroft and find Ron and Hermione again; they were to give him his timetable, as he would join their class starting the next day. That was before he abandoned them.

He stepped out of the room and froze in his steps. You were sitting on the ground just outside, back against the wall, focused on your textbook. You looked up once you heard a noise, and saw a dishevelled and surprised Sebastian staring straight at you.

"Oh, well, hello again, new fifth-year!" You smiled politely.

He cursed under his breath, turning his face away slightly and rubbing the back of his hand under his nose again, in case any stray tears were still present.

"'Didn't know about another secret passage in the school," you continued, apparently ignoring his actions, before muttering to yourself, "It wasn't on the Map."

"Map?" he said in a rough, unfamiliar voice, surprising even himself.

You examined him, a quizzical expression on your face. "Have you been crying?" you asked bluntly, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

Great job, Sebastian. Perfect disguise.

He felt his cheeks warm up, and he turned away again. "No... not at all." He cleared his throat, trying to find a way to switch up the conversation when his eyes fell on your book. "What are you reading?"

You frowned slightly, obviously not believing him, but understanding that he wasn't willing to talk about it, and looked back at your book. "My Herbology book. Ron gave it back to me at lunch. Finally, I’d say."

Sebastian paused for a moment, unsure whether it was appropriate to ask about what happened in the corridor, but then he felt that ache again, right above his navel, and the words slipped from his mouth without restraint. "Did you two—"

"Don't." You interrupted him and averted your eyes, staring down at the cover musingly. "Don't bring it up again. That was already embarrassing as it was."

Sebastian stayed quiet, his eyes never leaving your form. He would very much have liked to just plunge into your brain at that moment and make himself at home there.

Perhaps he needed to add 'Learn Legilimency' to his to-do list.

"How so?" he asked at length, quite stupidly, he realised.

"I lost my temper," you said simply, and forced your eyes back towards him. Your next words seemed to eject out of your mouth painfully, like they were unfamiliar to you, and it took a while for you to utter them. You sighed, "I— I suppose… I owe you an apology."

An apology never felt so forced and so sincere at the same time. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"I do. It wasn't the best impression I made of myself." Your lips parted as you leaned your head back on the wall. "I suppose I have to apologise to Ron as well — properly, I mean."

Sebastian stayed quiet, observing you curiously. Why were you telling him all that? "I... suppose," he uttered, not knowing what else to say. That appeared to be enough for you because you didn't even seem to acknowledge his words.

"He was looking for you, you know? Hermione, too. They said they needed to give you your schedule."

"Ah, yes, they mentioned that before," said Sebastian, glad to change the topic. "I’ll meet them promptly then, I was—"

"—Too busy hiding in a place no one else knew about," you continued for him.

That made him still in his steps, a chill running down his spine. Your eyes met: his open wide, yours unwavering and daring him to contradict your statement.

Perhaps the previous topic was way better.

"I just..." Come on, Sebastian, think!

"I just stumbled upon it!"

Usually he was one to conjure lies out of thin air, but being around you made his brain seem to melt. Sebastian thought that it was because he didn't really want to lie to you, or perhaps it was because, with the way your eyes pierced him, he felt as if you already knew all his secrets, all his lies, and you certainly wouldn't be fooled, not even if he made up a whole story full of intricacies and chapters worth publishing.

He knew, however, that the answer was neither, and it lay deeper than anything he was willing to admit to himself so loudly that he had to face it.

"Right."

You closed your book and stood up, facing him. He couldn't read your expression properly, but he felt his body start to uncharacteristically shrivel at the intensity with which you stared him down. He was in Ron's place.

"Strange, isn’t it? how the new student suddenly stumbles upon a secret room on his first day — a room not even Fred and George know about."

You had spoken that last part quietly, as if only to yourself. In fact, Sebastian didn’t know who Fred and George were at all. And, frankly, he didn't want to. "What can I say? I’m full of surprises," he replied smoothly.

"Or full of lies." You hadn’t missed a beat.

It was frightening how easily you had switched back to the girl he had met in the corridor. And he pitied it. And he liked it. And perhaps he was a fool for liking it, and an even bigger fool for pitying it. "I didn’t know it was illegal to be in this room," he said, scowling.

"Illegal? Oh, not at all. But certainly unusual for someone who has supposedly never set foot in this school before."

You took a step towards him, and he had to fight the urge to take one back himself. There was something wrong in the air — something goopy and misty and heavy, penetrating his skin like Mallowsweet fumes, inebriating and dizzying and frighteningly close to losing control. He had only felt it once, in Hogsmeade nonetheless. Electric and impatient, but, now, shrouded. That day, it had been galvanising. Now it was almost shy — almost… veiled.

"Hermione told me that she barely only took you through the first two floors. You're not even supposed to know about the classroom's whereabouts, and yet you seem all too comfortable with your surroundings," you continued, unaware.

He felt his heartbeat accelerate. Why did you have to be so inquisitive? Was he supposed to tell you the truth now?

Dumbledore’s voice came back to his mind: "...unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I don’t know what you're talking about. It was an accident, as I said," replied Sebastian in a poor attempt to reason again, knowing full well you wouldn't believe him.

"Certainly a convenient one." He twitched involuntarily, like he had just got a shock. The corners of your lips lifted in a sneer. "You are an interesting case... Sebastian, was it?"

He nodded hesitantly and narrowed his eyes, baffled at your countenance and your confounding words. An interesting case?

You shuffled on your feet in a nimble movement and pressed your back against the wall again, leaning onto it. "Don’t forget to show me that room sometime, too."

"And why would I do that?" Sebastian was growing impatient at your behaviour, while some part of him was thrilled at your nonchalance. The more you bantered with him, teasing him like that, the more he felt his stomach flutter. He hated himself for it.

He felt a sudden urge to leave. To run to his Common Room, or back into the Great Hall, where the noise cramming his ears would be enough to shut down each and any possible much-too-loud beat of his heart, as if the mere sound of those tiny pulses would beguile him into wandering proscribed feelings. A deceit of his own body he wasn't willing to face, not even through his love of the forbidden. The hunger and ache had to stay just that: mere curiosity, more about her and her family than you.

But he stayed in the silence of the corridor, with a loud pounding noise in his ears.

"Because it would be a shame if other people in, let’s see, higher power were to know about it, too, wouldn’t it?" You moved a hand through your hair to push it back, clearing your vision, and Sebastian watched as your locks fell around your face, a twinge in his chest. "Although I do believe Professor Flitwick would love to have another room for his choir practice. Is there a good acoustic in it?" You peered over his shoulder and towards the now closed door with a playful smile, clearly only teasing him, but the way the light fell on the tresses framing your visage was a bit too familiar to him. His mind stalled for a moment, and he didn't want those beats to stop anymore.

"Why do you care about this room so much?" Sebastian shifted his weight, now taking a step forward as well, and your eyes flickered down when you perceived the movement. Your lip twitched a bit.

"Why do you?" You simply replied, shrugging. "A secret room is a secret room. Don't you want to be a proper new student and get in good with the Professors?"

Sebastian felt his stomach boil at your singsong tone. "That seems to be more of a Gryffindor trait."

"Is it? And how much does a supposed stranger know about our Houses?"

His breath hitched and his resolve crumbled immediately at your quick retort. Sebastian warmed all over and stilled in his steps, feeling a bit too heavy on his legs. The image of the girl who lost her temper in the corridor was the one he had expected to evoke, pity even, yet she was nowhere to be found as your half-lidded gaze stared at him impishly.

"Besides," you continued, clearly feeding off his reaction with increasing confidence. "You should really get to know your Slytherin peers a bit more. Hopefully you won't become like them, but alas if you do, you'll end up snitching on this place yourself."

The thrill gradually disappeared, replaced by unadulterated annoyance. He found himself lowering his head, and he glared down at you, heart pounding in his ears. Your eyes stayed unwavering in his, though Sebastian noticed your crossed arms tightening marginally around your chest. "You can only wish to be like us," he hissed.

As you lifted an eyebrow daringly, he stepped forward again, finally free of that marbly perception that had spread through his body at your mockery, and towered over you. You tilted your head up, eyes never leaving his, the red and gold making them stand out in a way that only sent a new wave of anger through Sebastian's bones.

You could only wish to be like her.

"My dream in life."

Your voice rustled softly against your teeth, stretching with the smirk you wore, daring him to retort again. Sebastian felt it spread before he could even process your words entirely, burning through his guts all the way up to his trembling hands. That hunger. Craving. Ache. And something else — something that made the corners of his mouth tingle and his head tilt forward slightly more. He inhaled deeply from his nose, breathing out gratingly, air straining against his throat.

"Shall I serve as your future proxy and tell the faculty about it now?" you continued, voice glottal and purring, faring on the satisfaction of his heavy breathing on your face. "Might save you time ahead."

A low chuckle left his lips. "Even if you told the faculty about it, I could always pretend you were the one who showed it to me and kept it a secret all this time. After all, I am the new student, aren’t I?"

He grinned to himself as your smile fell slightly, squinting as you looked at him, but it only lasted a moment before you spoke again.

"And why, pray tell, would anyone believe that I would fraternise with a Slytherin enough to show said person a secret room?" You leaned your head on the side, and Sebastian’s heart jumped again. "And why would I turn myself in, given I would have, supposedly, kept my room hidden for five years?"

"It's my room," replied Sebastian lowly, instinctually, voice slightly trembling, blood rising to his head. Despite the height difference, he was starting to feel smaller and smaller every time you spoke, crushing his resolve word by word. It made him shrivel. "I knew it before. You're not welcome in it, nor is it any of your business."

"You knew it before," you repeated blankly, like you didn't care. "So you’re admitting to having learnt about this place already?"

What?

A heartbeat, a glint in your irises, and Sebastian's heart dropped pathetically as he realised he had given you exactly what you had been searching for — what you had wanted him to admit all this time. He shifted his weight back, leaning away from you. "No, I never said—"

"—I believe the Professors know about your true history — especially Dumbledore, you can't trick that one — so I know they won’t be fooled," you continued undaunted to shut each and every one of his possible retorts. "Plus, even if you told them that lie after I snitched on this place, they’d still let it go and take control of this room — Filch in particular. I won’t get into trouble just for keeping an insignificant room secret, but you would lose your special place."

His mouth fell open, for once at a loss for words. He could only stay silent as you threatened to reveal his hidden spot with that undeterred ragging tone of yours. Sebastian would usually brush off any threat against him, especially if it involved getting the help of teachers of all people — he was known for breaking rules on any occasion — but he couldn't ignore your words. He knew you had no idea how much that room meant to him; would you have cared if he told you? Would you have taken your words back? Why would he care if you had? He had promised himself to stay away from you, and that was exactly what he was planning to do. This conversation had gone on for too long.

"Who—Who says it's my special place?" Sebastian tried to salvage it, although his disingenuous and trembling voice betrayed him almost immediately.

"You reek of dust and humidity," you said with a satisfied smile, as if insouciantly waiting to shake his hand after your checkmate. "As if you've spent a lot of time in there just now. Also, no student in Hogwarts with more than a pea for a brain would ever refuse the comfort of a secret room no one has discovered yet."

You had deduced it... by his smell?

Sebastian had still been processing when you gathered your things and looked back at him, breaking into a genuine smile. "You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, and mind you, there are a lot of them in this school, so you'd better get used to it."

The corner of his lips quirked up against his will, heart gradually slowing down again. "Well, you did just threaten me in a way."

You chuckled — an unfeigned, carefree chuckle with no malicious hint — and shrugged. "I was never going to snitch on you, that would have been incongruous. I just wanted to see how this would go."

"I don't follow," he said at length, tilting his head slightly and raising an eyebrow at that. "Were you just playing with me?"

Sebastian didn't know why he had asked. It had been quite clear since you started talking that you had only run rings around him like he was a bloody amateur. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks in chagrin. You averted your eyes with a smile still on your face, and Sebastian wasn't sure whether to feel impressed or annoyed.

"Call it an investigation." You raised your hands in surrender. "I’m no Sherlock Holmes, of course, but..."

"Sherlock who?"

"He... Never mind." You shook your head, and looked back at him for a moment, biting your lip as if facing a conundrum. You sighed. "The thing is, from your perspective my threat should've appeared empty, or unfounded, because, as you said, the Professors would have believed that I was the one who showed you the room, as a more experienced student."

Sebastian listened intently, growing more confused the more you spoke. "Wait, so—"

"So, if you had nothing to hide and had really just found out about the room, you would've been less... defensive ," you explained, and Sebastian found no contempt in your voice: it was neutral, a bit excited maybe, but not mocking — perhaps only a little condescending, he noted bitterly. "Or, more specifically, you would have been defensive about me being out of line rather than about the room itself — more annoyed , I believe, at the fact that I got all up in your personal business uninvited."

The way you spoke, with unalloyed certitude and indisputable pride — though with an almost riveting aspect in your self-assurance, if he dared to admit it — seemed almost preposterous to Sebastian.

"Also," you continued, "if you had really stumbled upon it so easily, you would've been more shocked about the fact that no one else in the school had, wouldn't you?"

That actually... Made sense.

“What if I were just a new student who had accidentally found a room,” began Sebastian hesitantly, although he couldn't stop himself from being rather dazzled — and envious. And definitely ill at ease at your aptitude at reading people — him specifically. “And had completely panicked when another more experienced student threatened to reveal me as if I had done something horribly wrong?”

You looked at him, eyes shifting between his right and left one in a sequence. “Yeah,” you finally countenanced with a blithe nod. “That would have been perfectly plausible, too.”

Sebastian’s face fell, exasperated beyond measure. He suddenly felt a wave of lassitude wash over him and let out a world-weary sigh that earned him a small smile from you.

"Just know that you don't know me as much as you think you do," he said at length.

“I don’t know you at all,” you confirmed with a bright smile. “But I definitely enjoyed this. "

You pointed between the two of you, and Sebastian faltered, following your hand with his eyes for a moment before his gaze fixed on you again. "What?"

"It's just… I didn't lose my temper this time, and... well — it was sort of... nice."

Nice. The word you had used was nice. Sebastian found it anything but that: it had been humiliating to say the least. But again, he was the loser.

"You didn't lose your temper alright," said Sebastian, looking away. "Though we may need to get even on that."

Your eyebrows lifted and you broke into a giggle. "Yeah, perhaps. Even if I'm sure I'm not as much of a smooth talker when you’re not in… well… emotional distress."

To his own surprise, Sebastian smiled back, genuinely and widely and almost tenderly, letting his chest tingle freely and a little more than needed. "So you took advantage of me."

"That I did." You nodded at him. "It’s a pleasure doing business with you." And with that, you started to walk away, leaving him stunned but smiling in the middle of the corridor.

"Ah, before I go," you suddenly added, turning around and walking backwards, and his eyes shot to you once more; "last time I saw Ron and Hermione, they were near the Grand Staircase, on the second floor. If I meet them, I’ll send them to you."

You waved at him and turned around, walking down the stairs and disappearing from his sight.

[Read more]

Taglist:

@lovely-maryj @yuzuhasbae @mosf13 @rbfacee @prichuchan-blog @h0neeyy @lina-prongs @moonlightsolo @ninicol @gayandfairycore @nanako-sakura @epicy0n @shiro-from-cafeberry

(I'm having trouble tagging some of you, sorry :( )

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hami-gua · 16 days

Text

永别了，亲爱的 Farewell, My Beloved

Long overdue since Qingming has long since pass (oops).

Blade x gn! Reader

Takes place in game — not canon though

Warning: Chinese is used (English translation provided), angst hurt no comfort (first time writing this angsty)

Please read to the end for credits and reference.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━

Shoes echoes through the barren halls. The figure moves through the doorway, his steps slow. And then he stops. Right in front of the wall of name plaques. His red eyes scanned the whole wall, searching for a particular name and walking to it right as he spots it. He carefully pulls out a clean cloth — and with care, wiped down the plaque. It didn’t need to be cleaned, as workers everyday made sure all plaques are cleaned out of respect. Once he was done, he placed the bouquet of white chrysanthemums in front of it then sits down.

The figure couldn’t help but think of their death. Of the three that had to pay a price, he alone had to pay the biggest. He made a promise to them and he broke it. The what ifs began to speed through his head. He’s died once, and he wants to die again. He wishes he can be with them in the afterlife. That is, if Mengpo doesn’t make him drink her soup. Not that he could see them anyway. Not after what he’s done.

He places two cups and pulls out a jar of wine. After filling both cups, he took his and raised it — drinking it all after.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing he said to them, “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

He wants to apologize but no matter what he says, he knows no explanation could cut it. It was his error in action. In emotion. There was no way words can express his regrets.

“我与你的记忆损乱了，“ a tear slips from his eye, “你长得什么样，我也记不了了。我也记不住你的声音了。我只能记得你的名字，但也记不了多久了。“ [Memories of me and you have been messed up… The way that you looked, I cannot remember. I also cannot remember your voice. I only remember your name, but I cannot remember that for long either.]

The figure sat in silence for a bit before starting once more, “当年，如果不是我，也不是丹枫的话，你今日该会是什么样了？你还会像以前一样跟景元玩象棋吗？跟丹枫看书？跟镜流和白珩逛街？或者跟我练功？” he drank another cup full of wine, “可惜，三个付出代价去了，一个早已离去，最后一个孤独的留在了罗浮。不知你和白珩有没有相遇。我想是。我们当时挣扎了好久，现在平安多了。你若在的话，肯定会喜欢现在罗浮的环境。“ [That year, if it wasn’t for me, and Dan Feng, what would you have been like today? Would it be like it was then, with you playing xiangqi with Jing Yuan? Reading with Dan Heng? Shopping with Jing Liu and Baiheng? Or would you have been sparring with me? …. Sadly, three paid a price, one has departed, and the last one is left lonely on Luofu. I don’t know if you and Baiheng have caught up. I’d like to think you guys did. Our time was so messy, but Luofu today is much peaceful. If you were here, you’d definitely like Luofu today.]

Amidst his rambling, another figure approached. She stood right behind him, gazing up on the plaque.

“It’s time you wrap it up, Bladie.”

Blade hummed in acknowledgment, “Just a little more time.”

The lady stared at him a bit longer before sighing and heading out, saying she’ll be waiting for him at the entrance. After he was sure he was alone again, he spoke softly.

“是时候该走了。如果我没有捅你一刀，你今天应该还会在吧。对不起，这是我最后一次能看你了。仙舟没有我的地方了。在这个人生里，可能再也不会有人像你一样叫我的名字了。我永远也不可能是应星了。” [It’s time I should get going. If I didn’t stab you that day, you would probably still be here. I’m sorry, this is my last time seeing you. There’s no longer a place for me on Xianzhou. In this life, there will be no one to say my name the way you do. And I will never be able to be Yingxing anymore.]

Blade gets up and places the jar of wine next to the filled cup. After, he bows to the name plaque three times. Then, he turns and walks out of the room — leaving Luofu till his death arrives.

永别了。。。[Farewell…]

亲爱的。[My beloved.]

─── ∙ ↤THE END↦ ∙ ─---

I've been thinking, should I make banners specifically for the characters I write? Or would that be too much? Cuz right now, I can't decide on a banner for each story.

Qingming 清明: Called Tomb-Sweeping day in the west. People visit the graves of their deceased love ones. Even going as far as cleaning and retouching graves. It’s customary to offer food and wine (or other beverages they loved).

White Chrysanthemums: White flowers, mainly white chrysanthemums are placed during funeral and the dead. Don’t gift these to people please (unless you desperately wish for that person to perish).

Mengpo 孟婆: A deity in the underworld that gives passing souls her specialty called 孟婆汤 (mengpo soup) that would wipe their memories for their journey in their next life.

Bowing three times: I was taught this at a young age, but when bowing to gods and ancestors, you bow three times. Usually it’s very quick, but I like to take it slow (cuz I think it shows deeper respect).

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #yingxing x reader #hsr yingxing #hsr blade x you #hsr blade x reader #hsr blade #hsr angst #blade angst #honkai star rail blade #honkai star rail angst #blade x you

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girlswhowantboystobegirls · 8 days

Text

what would some pjo characters listen to?

thalia, luke, annabeth, percy, grover, clarisse, stoll bros edition

Thalia's music taste is canon; she listens to Green Day. I'd like to think she is fond of many rock bands like Radiohead, Nirvana, Rage Against The Machine... her playlist is a rock/punk soup. She may even go and listen to The Cure, Slipknot and all those bands with a certain aesthetic that is linked to an alternative style/community.

One thing about Thalia, though, is that she won't stand music that isn't alt. Lana del Rey, Billie Eilish, Dua Lipa, Taylor Swift are just examples of what she really can't get into. She despises entering a shop in a mall and hearing the "daaaaaance, dance the night away!" no. Please no. If you think Thalia listens to Taylor Swift in secret, I disagree.

I made a post about Luke's music taste before. I like the headcanon that in the Hermes cabin everyone listens to any song, any language, any genre (their shared playlist has over 3k songs, and most of them don't even correlate; special thanks to the Stolls). Luke likes punk and rock too, but maybe not overwhelmingly noisy... The Clash is probably a band he really likes, he also likes more current rock from bands like Los Campesinos... that's a little calmer than Thalia. He already has too much noise around him anyway.

Related to noise, Luke likes good, funky beats (Ivan Meets G.I Joe by The Clash starts playing). It is possible he listens to glitchore and/or scene songs!

Luke would listen to TV Girl.

Annabeth had most of her music taste influenced by Luke and Thalia, she was 7 when she came to camp afterall. Probably her own dad wasn't a parent that would show music to their child all the time. So, yes, Thalia and Luke music taste, mostly.

A thing's for sure, she doesn't understand Luke's liking towards glitchcore songs. Annabeth thinks they are... messy, like they were made immediatly and the lyrics aren't even audible. As an Athena kid who likes music, she often analyzes songs.

I can imagine Annabeth liking The Pixies, Iggy Pop, Ramones, and (she says that it's just sometimes, but their whole playlist is plagued by...) Blondie. Add The Runaways and Joan Jett too, this girl is a bisexual.

I'd like to think Percy isn't really judgemental about music. Does he find a reasoning in the lyrics? Nah. Who cares. Does he think the music is sad or happy? Depends on how fast it is, lyrics are to be listened; not read.

Sally is a really cool mom, and she probably introduced him to many things (I headcanon watching Drag race is one of them). A hint of jazz, some old-school rock punk, The Smiths, The Beatles, David Bowie, Abba... ultimate playlist. Percy probably still listens to many of these artists' songs.

But Percy's personal taste? Hip-hop. The hip-hop you could hear in a skatepark, or just 90s, it's almost the same thing. Eminem, Skee-lo, Ice Cube... he probably downloads playlist full of 90s songs.

Grover likes calming songs. Laufey is probably his favorite artist. Dominic Fike, Mac DeMarco's songs are also in his playlists. He doesn't mind catching up to some popular artists like these, but it's true that he only listens to music when he has nothing to do, not even go and search for Percy.

He can step out of his musical comfort-zone, but he can't listen to heavy metal. Thalia's playlist really scares him, can't even have it saved in his library. Grover needs relaxing music. Gods, he would listen to white noise, rain sounds or whatever's chill.

Clarisse thinks listening to music is a waste of time. She's not really a playlist grinder. But it is true some of her half-siblings tried to introduce stuff to her, it being: Måneskin, Hole, Marina (that one is a very guilty liking of her).

Clarisse doesn't think of listening to music when being alone and with no tasks, she just goes and does something. The fact that you can multitask, do something productive and listen to music at the same time, does not really enter into her perception of productivity.

Expect her to be judgemental of songs people who aren't her siblings show to her.

The Stoll brothers are constantly, forever in a music fight. Both of them have a very wide taste... but between both of them there are big differences.

Travis would listen to Taylor Swift, Mars Argo, Good kid, The Cardigans, Tyler The Creator. Pop, pretty much summarized, and some of its subtypes too.

Connor would be the reason of why the Hermes cabin listens to tons of songs in different languages (hc mentioned in Luke section). Brazilian phonk? Of course. Russian indie bands?? Yes! Argentinian rock??? Yasss. Everything goes into his playlist. Connor probably trusts Spotify's Discover Weekly BLINDLY.

This dramatic difference between their tastes made them not talk about music, because it would probably end up with both of them trying to prove the other wrong. They are very good siblings! It's just that... well... Connor thinks Travis' taste is shit. And Travis thinks Connor's make no sense at all (he can't even understand what they are saying!) But well, they can't look almost the same and have a similar music taste; that would be too much. Siblings can have many things in common, and things that make you want to make the other to cancel their Spotify subscription. It works like that.

I took 1 hour to write this.

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wing-ed-thing · 4 months

Text

Marriage Pact (Erwin x Reader) Part III

Synopsis: To the surprise of the cadets, Commander Erwin is married to more than just his work. Their curiosity brings up fond memories of your and Erwin’s early days in the scouts.

Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: Language, No Reader Pronouns, Fluff, Marriage Pacts, 104th Cadet Corps Shenanigans, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Original Characters, Alcohol

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Notes: This has been done and edited for... far too long.

Affairs were irritatingly mundane during the days that followed the Military Ball. And after all the show-boating and money that exchanged hands, the Scouting Regiment certainly had something to prove.

“Shadis is putting you on expedition command?” You blinked in pleased surprise. Erwin stood in front of your desk, thumbs looped in a pair of straps that bisected his torso. He hummed in confirmation. You offered him a light applause with the soft tappings of your fingers. “Congratulations, that’s promising.”

“We can hope so.” Erwin shrugged with near indifference, brows jumping for only a moment as he considered the notion. He heaved a steady breath of air, likely already envisioning the increased workload.

“Hope so?” you laughed, not quite paying attention to his rigid body language. “You’re being set up to take command for sure—”

“Are you able to take my squads for a bit?” Erwin interjected. You blinked at him, taken aback by the interruption. He took a slight pause before squaring his shoulder back. “Sorry for cutting you off.” He tugged at his collar.

“No, not at all.” You shook your head, forcing yourself to maintain the cordial smile on your lips. You offered a gesture of your hand. “Continue.”

Erwin met your eye, matching your closed-lip smile of pleasantry, but only briefly. He dove right into business.

“I’ll be needed Tuesdays and Fridays. I was hoping you could take my squads. I asked Hange, but they’ve got their hands full with R&D,” he explained with a curt nod. You stared up at him, almost lost. Taking on additional bodies for two days a week was already a tall order, but taking on five extra squads might serve to be impossible.

“Okay,” you started, thinking before committing fully. If Hange couldn’t take them, you were likely the only one who could. Your eyes darted back at Erwin, who was waiting for your answer expectantly. Your lungs inflated with nervous air before you spoke again. “There’s no way they can be split—?”

“I don’t trust anyone else with my squads.” Erwin’s answer was swift. He stared at you with serious eyes and a severe expression. Erwin’s hands traveled from his leather straps as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. The sigh he heaved made you frown.

“There’s five of them. That’s— what?— over a hundred additional bodies?”

“Ninety-nine, actually.”

‘Okay, ninety-nine added to my eighty—”

“And I would owe you one.” Erwin leaned over the front of your desk. With one hand on the solid wooden surface, he imposed himself above you with his other hand back to clutching one of his ODM straps. The tips of his bangs swept gracefully over his forehead. Erwin glanced toward the door and then back at you.

You opened your mouth to retort, but your attempt at protest broke down into a resigned huff. You shook your head, raising your hands in defeat.

“Yeah, I can take your squads on Tuesdays and Fridays.” Your voice sounded more tentative than you’d have liked. Erwin quirked a brow. The crease on his forehead was subtle.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I can take them,” you said definitively, shooting him a glare of warning. “Don’t push your luck.”

Erwin’s brows bounced again as he surrendered a step backward. You cleared a few things off your desk in search of paper to write yourself a note.

“If you’re not busy, we could discuss details now. I could make us some tea.” You avoided his eye, a large part of you just wanting to use taking on his squads as an excuse to finally get some alone time with him to talk the whole marriage pact situation over.

“Shadis actually has me preoccupied. I’m actually due to meet with Edmonds any moment now.” He glanced at the clock on the wall before continuing to inch away. “I’ll send a memo by the end of the day.” He was already off by the time you looked up from your note-taking.

“A memo?” You nearly spat, standing as he began to walk out the door. You shouted after him. “I’m doing you a favor, Erwin! You owe me!”

He waved over his shoulder as he briskly walked out into the hall, not even bothering to look back.

“I know I do!”

***

There was a reason there were four section commanders.

Between your four squads and Erwin’s five squads, regular drills were crowded at best. The larger venue you scrambled to book for the following month was just large enough to accommodate your combined teams for standard practice. And for forest training, you were required to wear your ODM gear the entire day to get from one side of the grounds to another. You must have gone through five canisters in one session of supervising alone.

And so it went for the next few weeks. Almost every other day, you’d find yourself trudging up to the temporary training grounds far out of the way to meet over double the amount of soldiers you were used to. Erwin’s squads were about as obedient and competent as you could expect— Miche Zacharius alone took a hefty amount off your plate— but no amount of capability could take away from the fact that you were training half the branch two days out of the week. If it wasn’t for how well-coordinated your squad captains were, you might not have been able to pull off Erwin’s favor.

You stood at the edge of the forest with eyes toward the treetops on a particular Friday at the end of the month. The sun was already setting as you deliberated whether you wanted to let your total of nine squads leave for the day— the main deciding factor being your air tanks. If it were earlier, you might have switched your canisters, but after your last few rounds through the treetops, you decided you were satisfied with the work your teams had done. You watched them whip around among the branches, waiting until things felt right for you to call it quits.

The trotting of a horse sounded behind you. Just as you turned, Section Commander Fletcher dismounted.

“Are you getting paid for all this overtime?” he laughed, jogging his horse forward to meet you where you stood. You heaved a deep sigh, hands on your hips just out of the way of your massive sheathes.

“Can’t say I am,” you announced in the way otherwise polite words come out in fatigue. Fletcher pulled up beside you, gaze glued on the treetops above. A full squad of 28 members whirled by, maneuvering expertly through the branches and artificial targets.

“Wow,” he mused, a hand shielding his eyes from the beams of the setting sun, “You’ve got a well-oiled machine out here.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You’d think I’d have it figured out, considering I’ve had them about a month now.”

“This isn’t figured out?” Fletcher raised a brow, jabbing his thumb up toward the flurry of scouts. You let out an amused scoff, head tilting up to bask your face in what was left of the light.

“Flying by the seat of my pants,” you jested, but your words were true. Fletcher let out an amused puff before mirroring your posture.

“Hell, if this is you making things up as you go, I’d love to see what you got when you do have a plan.” He shook his head in silent admiration. His eyes flickered to you, irises huddling in the left corners of his eyes as he studied you through his peripheral. “No wonder Erwin went to you first.”

“He came to me because Hange was busy,” you laughed, “Honestly, Hange might have had better luck anyway. They’re more used to handling all the moving parts than I am.”

“Well, you’re doing great.” Fletcher nodded affirmatively. “Although, I can’t say I’m not pressed that I was the only one Erwin didn’t ask to take his squads…” His lips formed the slightest pout. “I could have sworn that Hange said he went to you first. Either way, we could have split them and done drills together.”

“Two of us and three-quarters of the branch? No, thank you.” Another laugh erupted from your throat, and you turned to fully face him for the first time that evening. You gave him a once over, noting the state of his uniform. “Um, Fletcher? You know your backplate is supposed to go on your back, right?”

You reached over to loop your finger through the leather strap connected to his backplate and ran over his shoulder. His attention shot straight to where you tugged before Fletcher’s face drooped in reluctant acknowledgment. He held his hands up in defeat.

“Yeah, I know. But I got everything on before I realized, and I didn’t want to take it off and start over.” You withdrew, subconsciously looping your hands around your own tattered ODM straps. Fletcher continued with some more frantic waving of his hands. “Look, don’t tell Shadis. I’ve already faced disciplinary action for one too many mishaps with the uniform. He says if it wasn’t for my record on the field, I would have already been demoted.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who always has it perfect,” you tried to assure him. With the condition your straps were in, you were probably in uniform violation far more often than Fletcher was. Although, being as high ranking as you were, it probably wasn’t the greatest example to set for your squads. At least with you, most people couldn’t usually see that your uniform wasn’t up to policy in the first place without a full inspection. Fletcher was less lucky.

You heard your name a distance behind you, and by the time you turned again, Erwin had already ridden up the grassy hill on his white stallion. You perked up in surprise. Erwin spared a quick glance toward your company.

“Ah, and Section Commander Fletcher,” he remarked, not particularly content at the other section commander’s presence. Erwin smoothly slid off his saddle, tying up the reins to a nearby post with a flick of his wrist.

“Erwin! It’s good to see you finally resurface!” Fletcher waved. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Erwin retorted curtly, gazing briefly at the trees. The branches rustled with movement. “Don’t you have affairs of your own to prep for, Fletcher?”

“All about business as usual, I see,” Fletcher chuckled. His horse bumped him with its muzzle, and Fletcher gave the opposite side of the animal’s face a few pats. “It was quite the day today. My soldiers deserve the early break.”

“So soon before the next expedition.” Erwin’s eyes narrowed slightly, although his expression remained nearly undetectable. Despite his subtle dismay, Erwin’s demeanor remained straight and proper. “How intrepid.”

“If we work them too hard before the big day, they’ll be too exhausted to make responsible decisions.” Fletcher regarded Erwin nonchalantly, speaking lazily with his hands and a complacent twinge to his lips. Erwin blinked at him, scowling.

“Well, it’s good that we ran into each other,” he said, “You’re needed at headquarters. Something about one of your squads duking it out in the mess hall again.”

Fletcher’s face just about went white, and he needed little encouragement to mount his horse and start racing back toward Trost. He shouted something over his shoulder as he rode away. You only caught bits and pieces of promises to resume talking to you soon.

You watched him retreat down the hill, lost in fatigue from the day.

“Fletcher is an idiot.” Erwin’s voice cut through your daze. The harsh bite of his words hit you like an electric shock, causing you to perk up in acute astonishment.

Erwin didn’t meet your eye as he watched the speck that was Fletcher and his horse in the distance. He just stood there, posture straight and face stoic as he looked off toward the Walls. You opened your mouth to comment, but he soon brushed past you, leaving his scent in his wake. You stalled for only a moment before following him.

“What?” You wondered if you had heard him right. Erwin hardly spoke disparagingly of others— particularly not his peers— let alone so blatantly.

“For all that natural instinct Shadis sure puts a lot of stake in, Fletcher is an absentminded fool who won’t make it to see winter.” The inflection of his voice rose at the end of his sentence as if he were talking about a nice breeze. He shrugged, an uncomfortable and rigid indifference about him. Erwin focused on the equipment of his gear, standing just ahead of you at the edge of the forest.

“That’s mean.” You frowned. Erwin tightened one of his thigh straps.

“You know it as well as I do; no need to be coy.” He began rolling up his sleeves. You checked the time, wondering if Fletcher wasn’t the only superior officer to let his subordinates out for the day. “It’s better if he kept his destruction to his own squads. I don’t trust him around anything of mine.”

Perhaps you were devoting too much mental energy to your agreement, focusing too much on what exactly your relationship with Erwin was because his words left his lips and paralyzed you where you stood. You stopped mid-step, head jerking slightly in surprise.

“Anything of yours?” The words left your lips before you could even think.

You quickly snapped your mouth closed, meeting Erwin’s gaze with your own slightly widened eyes. You stood frozen, almost afraid to move. Erwin’s forehead creased, his mouth contorting downward with acute confusion. He cocked his head toward you, trying to decipher what the miscommunication was.

“I don’t trust him around my squads?”

“Oh,” you breathed, avoiding eye contact. You shook your head as if to physically dismiss the thoughts racing around your head. You covered your face with your hands, hiding the embarrassment and mortification that contorted your features. “I thought you said something else.” You shook your head again.

“What did you think I said?”

You continued to avoid meeting Erwin’s gaze even as you stepped up next to where he stood. You waved your hand in the air, not doing a great job of looking nonchalant. You stared straight ahead into the forest in an attempt to look normal.

“Don’t worry about it. I take it you want to round them up?” You gestured toward the trees. Your canisters were on the lower side regarding fuel, but you could afford to take one more trip around the training grounds. Luckily, Erwin didn’t pry.

“I’d like to catch the tail-end of their progress,” Erwin hummed. “And to see how severely I’m about to be out of a job.” You shot up into the trees together, landing on adjacent branches.

“Yeah, when you get promoted to commander, I’ll be working overtime taking on your teams while we train your replacement.” You were already on another branch, an impressive distance from where you started. Erwin wasn’t too far behind as you each signaled for your squads to regroup.

“You seem to be under the impression that Shadis will be relinquishing his title soon.” You could barely hear Erwin’s baritone voice over the wind in your ears. You whipped through the treetops together, expertly avoiding the soldiers flying through the air from the other direction.

“I thought we talked about playing modest?” you teased, swinging just ahead of him.

You landed next to each other, having reached the far end of the circuit. Your team captains were already leading your nine squads back the way you came to regroup and dismiss for the day. There was a notable shift in the air, no doubt caused by Erwin’s commanding presence. Everyone was eager to show off their coordination with the two of you present and watching.

“You’re talking as if you aren’t also very well qualified.”

“Erwin,” you grumbled with a roll of your eyes. You slapped him on the bicep with the back of your hand, “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying…” He whistled, playfully mocking the smile you tried to fight off. He didn’t even bother to hide his snickering. Erwin never looked old by any means, but even so, when he laughed, he seemed to become five years younger.

“Alright,” you sighed, the corners of your mouth still slightly upturned, “Let’s wrap this up. But I hope you know you’re taking charge on this one because I’m sick of looking at your squads—” You snickered, absentmindedly turning toward Erwin.

He stood with the thick wood of a branch beneath his boots, and his hand wrapped around an anchored cable which kept him steady. Erwin simply watched you. You dared to think he held something sentimental in his gaze, just like the night you made your pact. You turned to look over your shoulder, which garnered a chuckle from Erwin.

“Hey—” You were quick to snap in jest but weren’t allowed to say much else.

—“Would you like to grab a drink tonight?” Erwin mused.

You almost lost your balance right then and there. You instinctively moved to grip your own anchored cables.

“Yeah, sure,” you answered quickly, perhaps too quickly, “What time?”

“Let’s meet outside the gates at, uh, seven.” Erwin punctuated his decision with a decisive nod. His anchors reeled back in with a snap before he cast them out again into the forest. He didn’t miss another beat, already gearing up to set out through the branches again. You heard yourself agree before you both set off, ready to rein in the troops for the day.

***

You barely had time to stop home before it was time to meet Erwin, but you’d be damned if you were going to show up to your date in your uniform and the grime from the day on your skin.

To a lack of surprise, Erwin showed up early. He leaned against the brick pillar that held the left-side gate outside the Trost headquarters, seeming to have also changed clothes. Erwin retired his uniform straps and trousers for a pair of beige slacks. A grey leather jacket draped over his elbow, the dark color contrasting his white button-up. When he saw you, he perked up, pushing off from the pillar to meet you.

“I hope you’re okay with a walk,” he announced, his projected voice bouncing off the cobblestone street as he gestured in a vague direction with his thumb.

“Sounds good to me!” you answered, jogging up to meet him directly in front of the closed metal gates. You set off down the road together, chatting about random things from the day.

You didn’t see Erwin very often outside of work— although, given the nature of your professions, you still continued to see each other for obscene amounts of time between meetings, expeditions, and trainings. Even in contexts where you’ve slept within the same vicinity of each other, you were in uniform and on duty more often than not.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but consider how different he looked without his uniform— like something was missing. You wondered if you looked the same, although you didn’t have time to do much special preparation of your appearance between work and your meeting time. Your hair was still in an ODM-safe style.

You didn’t consider that this would become the norm when you were married. However, a growing part of you was gradually becoming more convinced that Erwin wasn’t actually serious about the agreement at all. Quite frankly, he hadn’t brought it up once, and you were sick of how often your pact had been on your mind. The extra thoughts only served to ruin the perfectly decent friendship you had with your coworker.

Things were never like this with Erwin before, and surely, a soldier as high ranking as you had better things to worry about; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I do appreciate your help this past month,” Erwin said, somewhere between your passage between walls Rose and Sina.

“It wasn’t too bad,” you admitted, not quite able to accept his thanks, “Your team leads are amazing. I couldn’t have done it without them.” Erwin’s brows rose in pleasant acknowledgment.

“That’s great to hear.” He nodded as you turned onto a familiar street.

The pub sat on the corner, and Erwin moved ahead of you to grab the door. Only then did you realize that the place Erwin took you to was Mulligan’s.

—“You said you liked the ale here.” He smiled. He was definitely talking before you tuned back into reality, and you already missed the first part of what he said.

You carried on with a simple hum and pleasant smile, drifting into the pub with Erwin, who led you to the bar. The far wall was covered in military memorabilia. A military police cloak and a set of ODM straps were displayed in the center, surrounded by hand-drawn portraits of service members from all three branches and newspaper clippings of various achievements. A set of wooden stairs sat on the far left of the wall, leading up to a loft area with seating. Erwin ordered ales for the two of you.

“We don’t get to do this too often, do we?” Erwin draped his jacket over the back of his stool. “I think the last time we even saw each other out of uniform, it was—”

—“Walkers’ retirement party,” you said in unison, smiling at the memory. Your mouth remained slightly agape as you struggled to calculate how long ago that was.

“That was— what?— twoish years ago?”

“Three.”

“You’re kidding.” Your cheek molded into your palm as you rested your elbow against the bartop. You squinted slightly as you glanced up at the ceiling. “I remember Baker’s promotion was two years ago, and I thought Walker left a week after or something.” Your ales appeared in front of you. The rim of your glass brushed your bottom lip as you spoke. “Because that was the year Baker had to separate those two rookies who got tied together during training.”

Erwin shook his head, swallowing his sip of ale.

“Walker retired three years ago, but he got so bored he tried to get his old job back about a year after Baker was promoted to his old position.” He motioned decisively with his hand as if painting an abstract, invisible timeline in the air. Your lips formed a circular shape as the memories clicked.

“Right.”

“Not that the minutia matters,” Erwin quickly clarified. He waved again in the air before taking his ale to his lips, meeting your eye from above the rim. “Three years seems like too long of a time to me.”

You stared into the foam on the top of your drink, watching as the white bubbles formed a perimeter along the section where you had been taking your sips. You averted your gaze as you spoke.

“Would that be considered normal for colleagues?” you asked with a raise of your brows, playing with the handle of your glass. Erwin studied you for the briefest moment in your peripheral before shifting in his seat with a shrug.

“I find the length rather excessive,” he admitted, expertly avoiding your actual question as he slung an ankle over his opposite knee. He sat somewhat straight with an arm on the back of his stool, and the other mirroring yours leaned against the bar. “It’s nice we could meet at such short notice. Talking about work all the time is hardly conducive to our dynamic, don’t you agree?”

“Excessively formal as always,” you sighed. You almost thought you saw him let out a single puff of amusement before he dove back into his ale. You saw your chance and took it. “But I’m glad you brought that up, because I think it’s time we talked about—”

“If a little bullying was all I needed to do to get you to visit, I would have done it sooner!” The chatter in the pub was cut by the booming voice. All heads turned toward the loft as an unnatural silence overtook the space.

Marie appeared at the top of the steps leading down from the loft, a tray of empty steins and glasses balanced on one hand. Her apron only served to emphasize the size of her enlarged stomach. Marie waddled down the steps, a few servers and patrons rushing to her aid. All talk within the pub slowly returned as most people turned back toward their drinks.

“Shit— Marie! You’re gonna fall!” One customer hurried to her side, taking backward steps down the wooden planks to give Marie his arm for stability. A server quickly scooped the tray of glassware away, the towers of empty beverages clinking and wobbling on top of each other.

“Oh, thank you, Steven. I could have gotten that.” Marie blinked, not watching the rest of her journey down the stairs.

“A business owner shouldn’t be bussing tables, let alone pregnant! Please go home!” a server urged. Marie only offered him a light smile, not acknowledging any of the pleadings that clamored around her as she made directly for you and Erwin.

“You didn’t bully me into anything, Marie,” Erwin sighed playfully. He stood out of his seat, but not before offering you a swift dip of his lip to you in apology. Erwin heaved himself up, ready to face Marie’s complaints, and you followed suit. Marie wasted no time in pulling him into a tight hug.

“Oh, sure, sure. Nothing to do with that military schmooze-fest last month. I haven’t seen you here in years, Erwin! Shame on you!” You barely had time to think before Marie let Erwin go and latched on to you next. She slotted herself a bit to the side to properly hug you. Her demeanor seemed to melt as she grasped you firmly by the shoulders.

“Wonderful to see you again,” she said, smiling warmly.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” you reciprocated.

Marie pulled away, hands crossed over her chest as she took in the both of you.

“Drinks on me tonight!” She accented her exclamation with a single nod.

“Marie, please—” Erwin attempted to reason with her, but Marie wouldn’t let him get a word in before she was already talking to the bartender.

“Thomas! Please refill these ales— Oh! And put in for an order of pretzels!” Marie met your eye and offered you a wink before disappearing into the throng of patrons. Even then, Erwin wasn’t allowed any time to complain as the door to the pub swung open wide enough to hit the adjacent wall outside.

“Fuck! Be careful, Hange!”

“Yoo-hoo! Is that two workaholic scouts I see emerged from their caves to party with us?” Hange threw their hands up in the air, completely blocking the doorway. A few prominent regiment members piled in behind them, uttering various grumblings about moving out of the way. Miche’s face popped up over the crowd.

“Yo,” he nodded toward Erwin. The volley of scouts flooded the pub, spreading across empty tables and chairs. Hange, as well as members of yours and Erwin’s squads, began to approach the bar.

It was the last weekend before your next expedition.

How could you forget about something like that?

***

Jean didn’t expect such a mild reaction out of you, especially after they had trashed what he could only assume was one of your most prized possessions. The moment the door opened, visions of extra brutal drills and penalties beyond his imagination flashed before his eyes, his dreams shattering like the broken picture frame on the floor. Jean could only imagine what a cross-branch punishment entailed.

Eren was quick to try to explain, quickly lurching forward with your first name spilling from his lips, thankfully with your rank. A few other members of his cadet class tried desperately to explain their presence in your office, but you remained expressionless.

You stood wordlessly in the doorway, and as the room erupted into defensive panic, your eyes were only focused on the shattered picture frame. Jean saw you in his frozen silence, following your line of sight to the floor. He knelt down to salvage the mess.

“Don’t touch it; I don’t want you cutting yourself.” Your voice was neutral and level. You crossed the office in seconds, plopping your miscellaneous files on your desk before plucking a broom and dustpan from a tall cabinet.

“Let me get that!” Jean and Eren exclaimed in unison.

The cleaning process was slow. The only noise that dared to vocalize in the room was the soft brushing of broom bristles on wood. Your scouting paraphernalia sat in its usual closed wardrobe just above a small office trashcan now filled with broken glass and the broken frame. One of the seams where the wood had been glued at the corner had fractured, forming a jagged line.

You stood as still and expressionless as you did when you first entered while Jean finally articulated their presence in your office after hours. He considered your neutral demeanor the worst part of getting caught. There was no yelling or a scrunched-up look of disgust, just active and silent listening. You only nodded, seeming to think to yourself without giving away any hints about the nature of your thoughts.

“We wanted to know if you and Commander Smith were married,” Jean admitted plainly. There wasn’t any way around the truth. He studied your blank gaze. You were listening but didn’t have commentary to give quite yet. He bowed his head sheepishly. “I know that talking about things like that is really inappropriate, and coming into your office is even worse. We’ll replace your frame and accept any punishment you deem fit.”

“Speak for yourself…” Eren muttered.

“Now’s really not the time for—!”

When you spoke, “There’s ten of you?” was all you said.

Jean assumed you were counting heads for when you reported to Commander Pixis— or worse, Erwin. But it wasn’t until Jean sat on your worn, leather-covered couch with a cup of tea in his hands that he started to wonder.

You didn’t answer Jean’s question until the last cup of tea had been poured.

You sat with it, looking into your reflection in the steaming beverage as you perched on the front of your desk. The picture— which looked rather flimsy without its frame— sat to your left. You crossed your ankles, the tips of your shoes brushing the floor as you leaned back on one palm. You took a sip of your tea.

“Yeah—” You shrugged. —“Erwin and I are married.”

The room collectively choked.

“See—?!” Jean could only get out one word before he broke into a coughing fit, the words rushing to his lips before he could even think about the liquid in his mouth. He covered his face with his arm and sputtered into the fabric covering his elbow. A violent dribble of liquid splashed over his chin. You offered him a cloth from your tea cart. “See? I told you! I told all of you—!”

“God, Jean, shut up!” Connie’s speech was muffled by the tea cracker passing through his lips. Eren smacked the back of Jean’s head before stepping to the other side of Mikasa. Jean’s coughing fit began again.

“I think that's so cute!” Christa’s exclaim cut through the brewing feud on the other side of the rug. She leaned forward, squishing her face into her palms with a childlike glimmer of excitement in her blue irises. Ymir rolled her eyes, much more interested in the bowl of snacks making the rounds. “How did you guys meet?” You laughed almost giddily.

“We were section commanders together before I transferred to the Garrison!”

The smile on your lips gave away the fond thoughts and memories that flashed across your mind. The group of new scouts huddled together, the eleven of you forming a circle sprawled out across your office. They sipped their tea, eager to indulge in a self-imposed late-night story session. “And now we’ve been married for almost ten years.” Reiner held his hand up shallowly in the air, his fingers slightly curled.

“I got a question for ya,” he began. You nodded like a teacher fielding a student’s question. “Has he always been so…” Reiner trailed off, leaning deep into his seat on the couch that faced Jean’s. He stretched his arm out so that it rested on the tops of the adjacent cushions. “Uptight?”

“Reiner!” Bertholdt scolded under his breath, nudging him for emphasis. Bertholdt sank slightly lower in his seat, expertly balancing his teacup and saucer.

You hardly took offense as anticipated, laughing out loud instead.

“I suppose Erwin’s always been more strait-laced, even back then!” you mused, glancing up at the ceiling in thought. You swung your feet, drumming your fingers at the front edge of your desk before returning your attention to the group. “I will say, though, it’s a good trait to have in a commander, especially for the scouts— not that I have to tell any of you that. He humored me a few times when it came to, you know, your usual antics, but we all— Erwin included— knew he was being groomed for that commander position. He liked to stick to the— the rules if that makes sense.”

You nodded before sipping your tea. You thought that answered the question, but unbeknownst to you, you only served to further pique everyone’s curiosity. However, none of them were able to ask any of their burning questions before Christa’s voice silenced the entire room.

“So, when did you fall in love?” she asked, and her words bounced off the wooden fixtures in the office. It seemed as though all attention turned to her as she sat giddy, a knee to her chest as she anticipated your answer. You took a moment, apparently too long of a moment, as tense silence filled the room.

You tried to hide your shock, voice stalling in your throat as you struggled to find a good answer. Mikasa stared at you with a sharp keenness in her eyes.

“You aren’t in love, are you?” she said as more of a definitive statement than a question. You were quick to answer.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You shook your head, still searching for what to say. “I—” All words stalled in your mouth when you looked up at the gathering of scouts. All eyes were on you, waiting silently. Staring. You sighed. “We had a marriage pact. And that’s not to say we don’t care about each other.” That last part tumbled from your lips like an avalanche.

“A marriage pact?” Reiner grumbled, but once again, you didn’t even have time to answer.

“It’s when two people promise to marry each other if they reach a certain point in their lives and are still single,” Ymir explained before you could. She looked at you as if allowing you to tack on any details she left out. You could only nod.

“That’s not very romantic,” Reiner bluntly spat. A few low hums of agreement dotted the room. You didn’t register how his words rattled something in your chest.

“So, what, did you both turn a certain age and just… what? Get married?” Eren leaned on the back of the seat where Armin sat. His elbows sunk into the worn leather. “How does that work?”

“Did you have an actual wedding, or was it, like, courthouse?” Connie asked with his mouth full of a tea biscuit.

You sat on your desk with your tea in your hands. Your grip hadn’t left the saucer and cup handle in the moments you sat on the hot seat of their gaze. Your agreement with Erwin wasn’t something you necessarily kept secret. Still, the pointed questioning stirred something within you you couldn’t identify. The former cadets remained huddled together, clearly intently interested, with no signs of leaving anytime soon.

You sighed, refilling your tea.

“There was a couple under my command who had a marriage pact. I was telling Erwin about it one night before an expedition,” you began, and the entire room sat in interest as the sun set on the other side of your tall office windows.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: It's so odd writing "Christa" instead of Historia. I also wonder how many of my deep cuts land whenever I write for this section of the timeline. Sometimes I wonder if people think Marie is an original character. I mean, given how little she's in AOT she might as well be.

On another note, I really wanted to wrap things up in this part. But I think there was too much set-up for the last expedition/proposal for it to fit in one chapter. Once I hit 5k I knew my fate was sealed...

I don't know if I should write the wedding because I imagine it to be small and intimate. It might make this fic 5 parts. I only really wanted to write 3. I know engagement usually drops the more parts there are. People don’t seem to like long stories, but I dunno what do you think?

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Stupid, Stupid, Emotionally Unavailable Erwin Smith (Levi x Reader x Erwin)

Notes: I’m happy to add people to the tag list, but requesting to be added without interacting with any part of this series outside of your tag request will result in a swift block

@goddessinsweats @lionhearted-soldier @answer-the-sirens @piercedddriver @scarletrosesposts @thewrittenromance

#erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #aot x reader #erwin #erwin smith #snk x reader #x reader #x you #reader insert #attack on titan x reader #aot fanfiction #erwin fanfic #erwin smith fanfic #erwin x you #erwin x y/n

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platoniccereal · 7 months

Text

some notes on the wanderer/scaramouche's characterisation~

i first and foremost made this for myself since every time i touched upon the wanderer's speech something felt amiss. but i also hope these notes may be of help to any content creator in their characterisation of our favourite an-emo boy!

while writing these notes i went through phrases scaramouche/the wanderer utters to establish his choice of words and thoughts that may be hidden behind them! i also provided utterances themselves for almost every point i made so that his speech can be copied easier. besides, i tried to guess how this can be utilised in our head canons! :)

please keep in mind that these are still my notes of something that stood out to me, not absolutely everything. additionally, i still may misinterpret something + our interpretation may be different + you can see something as a stretch. that's ok! also, i listened to the english va + i speak of the balladeer and the wanderer as Two Different hypostases of a character, not the same continuous character.

hope you find it helpful!

INVERSION OF GENESIS.

★ when the balladeer/the wanderer is angry, he rarely raises his voice. he starts to whisper and even speak softer instead (it's about the english voice, but afaik it's also true for other voices, too). when he wants an emphasis on certain words, he whispers, too. this isn't true for battles, though, as he is very loud in his wanderer and shouki no kami hypostases.

★ his usual sarcastic structure is to state something he'd expect and then illustrate that someone is acting against it (as in, stupid). e.g. «ah, so if it were up to you, you'd finish the job? guess i had you all wrong. there i was thinking you were just getting cold feet,» «it's not every day you see people questioning the god of wisdom's judgment. just when you think you've seen it all.»

★ when he wants to threaten a person or make them do something, he isn't necessarily uses imperative sentences. he uses «i'd like you to» in «in return, i'd like you to answer a question for me» and still gets what he asks for. other examples are his «so why don't you relax your guard a little?» «let's cut each other a little slack, shall we?» and «so maybe you should think about backing off a little.»

as illustrated, instead of describing painful consequences, he undermines them instead. («a little» is his favourite word, it seems.) as evident later, it is coupled with his, err, laid back attitude towards threats to him. basically, he just lets people act stupid and walk into his traps.

from what we've seen from dottore, he also uses the same structure: «i suggest you keep your true feelings to yourself.» maybe, he was the one scaramouche copied.

★ overall, his sarcasm is what you'd usually see from people. it should be kept in mind that sarcasm is his initial response and he will use it as often as possible even if he could simply explain. there won't be any examples here, though, as there would be too many. but his conversations with nahida, paimon and signora illustrate it well. i believe sarcasm is his way to assert power since it builds on «common knowledge + the inversion of that» hence implying the opponent doesn't have this common knowledge -> they are stupid, he is not.

★ he is extremely professional and focused on completing the task successfully. he knows how operations (which the traveller suggests he was assigned when he was the harbinger) are carried out and follows the strict algorithm. e.g. «(to nahida) we will now proceed to the heart of irminsul», «permission to begin searching for information?»

he isn't easily swayed when he works and tries to get this attitude out of the traveller and paimon, too, just asking them not to fall behind.

★ he follows the agreement with nahida: how they will walk into the irminsul and what his tasks will be. he completes them without any chatter and keeps nahida updated as he should. even after the revelation about the tatarasuna's history, he still is able to proceed with his task.

★ «you can't have your prisoner knowing too much,» «i understand that prisoners have to put up with harassment from the guards,» it may be a stretch, but from these sentences + how he talks about his relationships with the fatui i can conclude that he easily justifies abuse towards himself. the balladeer/the wanderer isn't the person who just lets people do that, but whenever abuse happens, he easily explains it by the natural order of things and weaklings suffering from the strong ones because they deserve it. hence, whenever he ends up being the weak one, he believes he deserves this abuse. this can seep through into in his further interactions with people who care about him should any fight occur.

★ «sometimes it's you using them, other times it's them using you.» it comes in a direct parallel to niwa's words about dottore's attitude towards kabukimono: people of tararasuna didn't want to use him, hence it's the doctor who altered scaramouche's perception of human relationships. the balladeer/the wanderer believes in mutual gain and uses it to: 1) get what he wants from the traveller, 2) pay back for nahida and the traveller's help.

thus, it's safe to conclude he uses this principle as a moral compass in every social interaction he comes across. he could use this law to navigate his personal life instead of his emotions.

★ «most of human relationships are this way… certainly the stable ones are.» it is easier for him to predict when he stops being valuable to someone and toss other people out when they are not useful to him, so there is no sudden abandonment. it is easy to see how it corresponds with his trauma. this principle gives him the illusion of control since he can calculate everything, and gaining control over situations that may lead to the repeated trauma is a response real abuse survivors have. hence, it's safe to conclude the wanderer will try to find what other person gains in his more sincere relationships and, what's worse, may use other people who care about him out of habit since it's a natural order for him.

★ even though he earned the reputation of someone who doesn't bite his tongue when he should he doesn't backtalk or lie when it isn't beneficial to him.

★ he admits to managing «cordial conversations», so while the wanderer may avoid participating in small talks at all, it isn't unreal to picture him having one and not imploding. this is also something confirmed by his first appearance in the unreconciled stars event where he handles a friendly conversation perfectly - so the friendliness is just something he knows (and studied intently as kabukimono) but ignores on purpose. social skills are there.

★ the balladeer and possibly the wanderer, too, is sadistic in a classical sense of the word. he admits to enjoying stomping on the pests, meaning bringing pain and destruction to people. this can also be confirmed by one of the husk of the opulent dream's pieces. there, it is stated that «he also loved watching expressions of terror and helplessness play across human faces, and it was perhaps precisely because of this imbecilic underling's expressiveness that he had kept them around.» as the balladeer, he let some of his subordinates stay not because of their usefulness, but because they were funny to abuse. (also. hot.)

thus, it can be possible that in a less hostile environment of the akademiya the wanderer can struggle with this side of himself, hurting people on purpose. this can also become something he has to fight in relationships with people he cares about.

★ before his memories are restored the wanderer is polite and reserved. he apologises, calls his boss properly and tries to do his part. we can notice the similar behaviour of the balladeer but weaponised to imitate friendliness (e.g. unreconciled stars). there isn't any features of a classical shy character, he doesn't stutter or use abrupt phrases.

★ «i ran into him out in the wilderness during the storm, and he let me take shelter in his cart. in return, i said i'd be his helper for a while.» even before he gets his memories back and remembers principles the fatui likely taught him, the wanderer navigates his relationships with others through understanding what he gets and what he must give in return.

it is clear that he spent some time in the shop already and made enough work to make the merchant uncomfortable for exploiting him. thus, the «for a while part» isn't quite true. the wanderer has nowhere to go so he has every intention to pay back more than he needs to, to just stay somewhere.

hence, he can continue using this principle in his relationships with others, creating a conflict where he is dead set on paying back with little to no regard for his own feelings.

★ «i don't deserve your protection.» it seems that even before he restores his memories and is only told about his sins, the wanderer already despises himself enough to reject help. this attitude may exist later, when the wanderer restored his memories, with an added «i'm not that weak» but this is only my speculation.

however, this phrase may be another example of him carefully weighing what others give to him and what he should return.

★ «(uttered by the jester) what you are, truly, is a weapon, one that can be wielded with an iron will…» to further ingrain the thought that the balladeer is a tool, not a person, the jester proposes the idea of seeing himself as a weapon to kunikuzushi. coupled with dottore saying someone will eventually use kabukimono, it seems this was the strategy that was used to keep the balladeer in the harbinger ranks.

thus, we can see that the balladeer continued to suffer abuse due to 1) his beliefs in the strong dominating the weak, 2) his illusions that he is a person shattered by events of tararasuna, hence he perceives himself as an object, a weapon that must endure. the latter is a bit of a speculation but i don't think it is far off the mark:

★ «now that i've had a taste of just about every flavour in this world, i've found that actually… bitterness is the one i like best,» and the whole bitterness discussion in the teapot are the example of him pushing himself to his limits in order to being able to handle the true bitterness of life. (also, it lies in a nice parallel with ei/shogun's «illusions shattered» thing, but i diverge.)

★ «(uttered by the jester) or, you could continue to drift aimlessly.» another tactic fatui used to win kabukimono over was his obvious lack of any goals and place to go. we can see that the wanderer finds himself in a similar position, staying with the merchant because he had nowhere to go. long time ago, the balladeer stayed for these very reasons with much, much more dangerous people than a common merchant.

★ «i'm harsh on myself and everybody else.» while the former comes from the low self-esteem and believing himself to be weak, the wanderer also won't be patient with anyone's blunders. i suspect especially if it's about someone in his charge or if it's about work. i also suspect that an easy way to get on his good-ish side is to act this way as well and not let any mistakes slide.

★ «utility to others is what makes me worth.» as soon as his memories were implemented into him, he is reverted back to his harsh principles ingrained into him by the fatui. it seems there isn't any other tool he could use to measure his worth. the base principle that any life is worth something does not exist for someone who didn't see himself as an alive being for several past centuries.

hence, it can lead to reckless behaviour driving him to his limits which will cause stress to someone who cares about him.

★ «oh right… i almost forgot. you're the good guys. you're into justice and all that.» this is his answer to the traveller trying to argue with how the wanderer sees his own worth. i believe there's some division between what he thinks good guys deserve/what the wanderer himself deserves. thus, while it is possible he will agree that life's worth is life itself after some long argument, he still won't apply this to himself. i believe it's a somewhat common coping mechanism to think «people don't deserve X, but i deserve X.» (i'm not talking about his crimes, btw.)

★ «no nonsense. i like it.» he approves when the traveller doesn't argue with the «let them stab the blades into my chest if they so desire. maybe that's how it always should have been.» while the wanderer might need support in his life and changing his self-destructive perspective might be of great help to him, it seems he still wouldn't appreciate a direct approach to that.

VOICE LINES.

★ one of the most consistent features of the wanderer is despising the idle chatter, as evident in this idle voice line, «it's rather pathetic to force a conversation just to occupy silence.» another example is the husk of opulent dream's description: «the youth, hating chatty humans the most, gave his subordinate a backhand slap.»

so, the balladeer/the wanderer despises small talk even if he can participate in one. he would likely appreciate people who are just focused on the task and don't say anything that isn't related to their common goal at the moment. perhaps, it can be used to form a wordless bond between him and people who hang out with him.

it seems that he is quite harsh in his criteria for the idle chatter since his subordinate asks quite a normal question of where the harbinger is heading next.

★ looking through every voice line about other people, it can be argued that the wanderer's initial algorithm to describe someone is to trash them. but i believe we should also remember most of his voice lines are about the harbingers, and he's never had particularly warm feelings towards his colleagues. other four are yae miko and raiden shogun, and he isn't fond of them both, and kazuha and nahida. last two are the only people he doesn't despise, and these voice lines are pretty tame, while not an open praise.

★ «i have no need for food. save me the trouble and take care of yourself and that small thing floating next to you.» this can be perceived both as him not wanting the traveller getting in his way like the balladeer's subordinates, or genuine, poorly expressed care. thus, the wanderer may say dubious phrases with that intention whenever he expresses his care.

★ «so, you're still stewing over our run-ins from before? huh. well, what are you going to do about it? take your time. i'm in no hurry.» the wanderer's attitude to threats is quite unique. other examples of that are his lines from the trailer, where he answers «sure i will» and «i look forward to that» to the threat that he will pay for his attitude. also, «fine by me – come one, come all, i say. as a matter of fact, i'm somewhat looking forward to it.»

basically, you can read his behaviour as «you can be stupid enough trying to attack me, and i won't stop humans from being stupid, and the outcome is their fault.» it's basically all over his trailer where he waits until the fatui attack first.

★ when it comes to answering for his sins, though, i would rather see it as accepting his punishment. it is also evident in his falling voice line, «the price for my sins.»

★ «the gods aren't guided by any kind of rationality or moral compass. haven't i shown that to you already?» i believe he doesn't mean ei or nahida here, two archons he is connected with, because he didn't show us anything in regard to them. (we dealt with problems with them ourselves) what he might mean is shouki no kami. this also may be evident in his battle ost and, «(about his actions) after all, gods have never been needed to be reasonable.» so this phrase may indicate irony he feels regarding his actions as an archon.

★ overall, it seems that he's rather profiling everybody for us rather than giving his pure opinion.

★ «anger, whether it be from others or myself, is too convenient and useful as a tool.» while the balladeer went as far as becoming a god only to become emotionless, he now learns an actually legitimate way to deal with anger. the first step to do it is to learn that anger is a normal emotion and how to channel it instead. thus, he can also learn this about other emotions and that each one of them is ok. knowing he uses the utility of everything as a compass, the utility of emotions may be something that will help him accept them.

★ «don't you know that's only asking for trouble?» coupled with the phrase from his birthday letter, «has she ever stopped to think about what an «experience» it is for others to meet me?» it is apparent that while behaving highly unsociable due to detest for idle chatter, he also wants to shelter others from his presence since he believes it is nothing pleasant. i believe he also thinks it will only bring suffering in the end – to them.

★ «it's not so much that i have nothing to say… i just have nothing fun or positive to share,» explains another reason he avoids conversations – he just doesn't believe himself to be someone people would usually have as an opponent.

★ «if you don't mind, perhaps… we could sit here together for a while,» coupled with «the scenery here should be quite breathtaking» from his birthday voice line lets me think that his favourite quality time with others is to peacefully enjoy some scenery (he truly is a cat who just likes to be in someone's presence).

★ «are you so dumb as to have forgotten that i'm not human?» this is a less useful observation but i find it rather funny that he is annoyed not by the fact that the traveller may try to poison him but by the fact that they chose an ineffective method. if we wanna extract something useful, though, it can be said that if the traveller tries to kill him and fairly wins, he is ok with that as he is the weak one in this situation. but that's quite a stretch.

★ «i can see the great deal of effort you put forth,» «thank you for trying to look out for me. go get some rest,» and «it's generous of you to host me in your home. the least i could do is be grateful,» show pretty clearly that even after the wanderer restored his memories he is still able to express gratitude without exploding, and i don't believe he finds it useful to be mean when it isn't of any need.

★ «hey, you own this place. what are you so nervous about? it's not a good look,» coupled with «look at me, coming around here, criticizing your lifestyle choices.» everybody noticed how nice the wanderer is in the serenitea pot (as shown in the previous point). but this also reveals that while he enjoys being painfully straightforward and kept people around just because they suffered prettily, he doesn't enjoy when at least the traveller doesn't put up any fight. maybe it's about the subordinate/the equal difference. basically, he seems to respect people with strong personal boundaries. the ones who don't try to justify their own home where he is just a guest, at least. that would be logical since it's evident he navigates his life through «weak/strong» division.

★ «this is your home. arrange it as you wish,» this and previous voice lines illustrate once again that he isn't unnecessarily mean, at least not all the time. he understands the dynamics of a place he is in and how to be a grateful guest instead of shitting on every player's choice.

★ «the fact that things didn't work out doesn't make my past self a fool for hoping in vain that they would, does it?» and «you're a god. do you think i'm evil?» depending on whether we see the former as rhetoric or not, this may show that even though he is quite old, he still looks for guidance whenever it comes to more vulnerable topics. he looks for this guidance in people he respects, such as the traveller and nahida. and at least with nahida, he listens intently because the answer truly matters to him. maybe, if there wasn't any mechanic restrictions, he would listen to the traveller, too.

PRE-IOG SCENES.

★ «for just a small price, they get the feeling of controlling the world. trading their life for supreme power… pretty good deal, don't you think?» there isn't much to analyse as the utterance is pretty clear, but i just find it funny because this is what he ended up doing with shouki no kami. so either he fell into the same trap or he truly believed in what he said then and wasn't just mocking teppei.

★ «[haypasia] peered into my consciousness and saw my past. someone like that is qualified to become my first follower.» while this qualifies haypasia as a follower, having one also qualifies him as a god. but this can be perceived differently. haypasia saw his past and stayed devoted and didn't leave her god. it is my speculation, but this may be something scaramouche is after - this is a twisted form of acceptance. as the wanderer, he still may harbour such desire to be seen and accepted, leading him into healthy relationships or unhealthy obsessions. still, the whole haypasia sequence demonstrates that scaramouche is still a loyal individual, he just didn't have anyone to grant this loyalty.

★ on the same note, it should be said that scaramouche openly admits and expresses affection to haypasia. a mortal, a feeble human, mind you. because, of course, she is his first and only follower. thus, he can show such feelings honestly and without shying away if he deems it necessary, which might be useful for creating his future bonds with other people and maybe he will be much more open with them than we'd initially thought.

★ «has anyone ever told you that you're not good at sowing discord?» and «you're still too naive if you think a few words will be enough to convince me to destroy the doctor,» imply that before the revelation in 3.3, scaramouche wouldn't let just anyone get him on bad terms with the doctor and manipulate him into that no matter how much abuse by dottore he endured. no matter how bad his relationships with his colleges are, he will handle them himself. this is a note purely for me and my future writing of the wanderer, but it seems that even after 3.3 getting him out of the dottore's mental grasp will be a demanding task.

SMALLER DETAILS.

★ his idle emotion and his character picture are him smiling, so it isn't unusual for the wanderer to do it and even more natural - maybe, at least when he is alone.

★ whenever the wanderer finishes the task, he prefers to shortly say «done» without any chatter.

★ when it comes to speech, he doesn't divide his sentences much and uses compound, very complex ones freely. whenever he needs to explain something, if it isn't something he deems stupid, he does it fully and doesn't hold back.

★ scaramouche always calls nahida buer, perhaps as the way to show himself being above «demon gods», while the wanderer calls her lesser lord kusanali, which sounds more respectful as it is her title.

★ overall, i think the approach hoyo use for their characters is choosing one main characteristic (if you think about any character, you can remember One main thing about them) and then building their interactions around situations where it feature shows and situations where it is an exception and they act against it.

if we focus only on one type of these situations, we mischaracterise the character. thus, if we choose, say, the wanderer being mean as his main feature and focus on it, we miss out on times where it isn't true. for example, his respect for the traveller's realm or his desire to help others in a parade of providence. if we focus only on nice exceptions like that, we mischaracterise him as well.

updates:

★ now that we have both the second birthday story and his tcg lines, it appears to the wanderer is no stranger to doing something just to make someone happy. and then say it was only because he's got nothing to do. e.g., reading books someone recommended to him, «some vahumana students were trying to push some book recommendations onto me. i don't have anything else to do, so i'm just idly flipping through them» or playing a duel because he thinks it makes the traveler happy, «can a game like this really make you so happy? childish... if you want to play, then be quick about it,» «all smiles after winning a game like this? ha, so easy to satisfy,» «and the boring game is finally over... you happy now?»

#genshin impact #genshin #scaramouche #kabukimono #wanderer #genshin impact meta #writing #dottore #nahida #my post

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