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sanjis-moulinrouge · 7 months

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Unplanned Rescue

Sanji x reader | Fluff

Summary: The reader goes out to explore a village but inopportune events happen and needs to be rescued.

a/n: I needed some fluff and cute interactions, hope you like it. English is not my first language, so my apologies if something sounds unnatural.

cw: mild swearing

During the first weeks you’ve built a solid friendship with Usopp and Nami, the reassurance they offer you makes you grateful to have found them under past difficult conditions. You’ve already set routines that keep your interactions balanced and fun.

Part of the routines involve going shopping every time you arrive to a new land, you help Nami to select clothes or jewelry. Usopp sometimes takes you through foreign places to assist him buying tools that might be useful to invent artifacts. He's a great inventor and storyteller, long walks and talks makes you feel at ease.

Now, you long to reach land to go out with them somewhere.

“Guys, we are getting close to an island” Usopp calls out. “Y/n, it’s exactly what you wanted”.

“AAAAH! where are weee?” Luffy shouts as he runs towards the lower deck.

“Oi, someone is desperate to put her feet in the sand” Zoro adds, staring at you.

“It’s better for Sanji not to see that shining face of yours, y/n. Otherwise he's not going to shut up about it” Nami stresses laughing.

You feel your face turning red, looking around to make sure the cheff is not there, silence was your only way to pass Nami’s comment over.

Once on solid ground, Sanji goes out to watch the landscape from the upper deck. His figure is delightful to watch from your viewpoint, you couldn't help but notice him lighting a cigarette. He is the sweetest man, but your shyness has stopped you from getting to know him as you'd would like to since the first day you saw him.

He’s been aware of your self-imposed distance, but despite that, he’s always been kind, so kind that you’d like to tell him many things stuck in your chest. You’ve been avoiding doing any task with him, even going for groceries. His beauty is crushing, it makes your body weak.

“U-hm the weather is nice… You go, I’ll stay here. It’s my turn” Sanji shouts to the crew. Gaze fixed on him, you are the last one leaving the ship.

“I’ll prepare a delicious meal and drinks for you, y/n-chaawn and Nami-swaan!” you hear Sanji's sweet voice while waving his hand.

“Ugh, he’s so loud sometimes… y/n, would you mind going ahead with Usopp? I’ll find you later” Nami says, rushing to the opposite side of the road.

As you walk next to Usopp, you see Luffy’s and Zoro’s silhouettes moving forward in the distance.

For some reason, Usopp’s stories couldn’t catch your attention this time, there was internal noise pending that couldn’t longer bear.

Sanji is in your thoughts. Somehow, you have to leave your insecurity behind to allow him to know you as the others. At the moment, you wish to return to the ship to listen to Sanji’s stories about the All Blue. You were aware he hasn’t had the best childhood, there were parts of the story of his life that were missing, you felt the need to complete the puzzle of the straw hats’ personal stories.

When Usopp entered a shop, you decided to check the other stores around, you entered a large hall and luckily got to a place you like, libraries. You have some berries specially saved for occasions like this. Books about philosophy, mythology, romance were selected, but something was missing, something special, a gift... a cookbook. You've finally decided to offer him something valuable, you are certain that he’s going to appreciate that detail.

Leaving the library you realize that Usopp isn’t around. You perceive something is going on, people murmur and disperse through the small village, agitated kids run to their houses, and there's not much time for night to set.

“Bandits have come to sack the city!!!” someone screams.

You immediately think about sightings of The Going Merry in the area, but Usopp’s disappearance was strange.

Trying to remember the way back to the ship was hard. You followed your nakama without being conscious of the path, your mind was blank.

You stare at the place trying to keep calm, after a while you decide to go down a busy street to feel safer. The locals seemed to have regained their composure after a while, but now you're the one who's confused.

“Shit, I can believe that I also lose my sense of direction...”

Night has fallen, in a single desolate part of the city, you start to feel a non-human presence behind you. Walking faster doesn’t seem to help, beasts breathing sounds down your back. In a desperate act you start running, but two wild dogs reach you, attacking one of your ankles. The pain is unbearable, they wrestle and tear part of your leg. Distressed, you begin to hit one of the creatures with the bag full of books. As they release your ankle covered in blood, you stand up as fast as you can. You take refuge in a grove, to go unnoticed. “A-gh crap, this looks awful, I need to go to the ship.”

It’s already past midnight, the full moon illuminates you completely. The pain stuns you and the area is fully swollen. You already accepted that you have to wait until dawn, you have no idea if the early commotion at the village ended, the real reasons or real bandits behind it, you can't risk showing yourself as a foreigner, as a pirate. “Damn it hurts, fuck.”

The pain was so strong that you fell asleep under the bushes.

“y/n! psss, please… wake up” you listen from afar. “Darling, darling… Ahhh, fuck… your leg, beauty... please.”

Your unconscious body feels some generous warm hands. “Aargh, Sanji? Is that y-”

As you open your eyes you see Sanji's ethereal features, he is on his knees holding you in his arms, his fingertips caressing your face and head softly, your body trembles. Bursting into tears you sob “I’m sorry!”

“No, sweetheart. I should have come with you. I-I was restless on the ship… we've been looking for you for hours”

You felt a bit embarrassed that he sees you in that condition, a new unintentional connection with the charismatic cook has been born. You’ve always wanted that but not under these circumstances.

“We have to go back. I need you to get comfortable in my arms. I'm going to get up on the count of three… two… on–”

“Sanji, wait” you interrupt. “I-I’m so sorry for my avoidant behavior these months.”

His blue eyes are filled with amusement and curiosity. He looks captivated as your eyes meet. “It’s fine, honey. We all have different things to attend” Sanji chuckled warmly.

“No, don’t you get it?”

“W-what-” his brow furrowed. “What are you trying to say, y/n?” his gaze fixed on you again and later on your lips. His face was so close to yours that despite your physical pain, it felt satisfying, time stopped… It was a moment of vulnerability for both of you, he was nervous, blushing, his body irradiated warmth.

Lost in your thoughts, as you wrap your arm around his neck to make yourself more comfortable, you push your cheek towards his and give him a small kiss on his nose. His cheeks instantly heated up and he replied with a faint kiss on your lips.

“We’ll need many days to make up for lost time, my love” he cooes.

“Oh, I have a gift for you” you whisper as he gently takes you back to the ship.

#sanji x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #one piece x reader #sanji x you #black leg sanji #opla #sanji x y/n #reader insert #sanji fluff #one piece fluff #sanjis-moulinrouge-fiction

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queen-of-elves · 2 years

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Guardian angel

Steven Grant x reader (sort of Marc Spector x reader??)

A/N: This is sort of set before the events of Moon knight + I have no idea if I did my research on the artifact correctly so feel free to add or completely correct me. Also none of my fanfictions are proofread so I apologize in advance for mistakes and grammar.

Warning: reader is a cursing machine with no specific gender??, I am sorry if I missed something

Summary: Marc and reader had worked together for some years and have a love-hate relationship so when she finally found him after months of searching for him (Normalize paying your workers lol). She is shocked, ‘cause instead of snarky mercenary, she is met with Steven, handsome face of Marc however with a very sweet personality. + the brainrot imagine

Word count: cca 2.2K 🌻

***

You have known Marc for sometime by now, fellow coworker in the craft if you will. Most of the time the two of you were great partners in crime. Sometimes bickering like an old married couple, which indeed was annoying as hell, but working with him had its own set of perks.

You have been tracking down your old colleague after he disappeared a couple of months ago, still owning you, your half from the job well done. So, there you were in rainy London in one of those old dirty buildings, following him, hopefully back to his new place. He noticed you a couple of streets back and now was running up the stairs with you hot on his tail.

“Asshole, you really thought you could hide from me?!” Your voice boomed through the hall. Disheveled Marc looked at you dumbfounded before turning back to his door, the metal keys rattling in his shaky hands. Was he really running from you? “Marc!” Your voice shook with him so much, he almost dropped his keys, still fiddling with them trying to find the right one for the lock.To this moment unsuccessful in his escape from you, yet at least.

“Listen… I don’t know who you think I am but I am not them!” Wheezing heavily, he shouted at you. Nervous eyes bolted to you, seeing you move closer to him as in response to his yelling. Your strategy consisted of shuffling your feet steadily down the hall. Inching closer to your prey, like a deer in headlight he stood frozen, keys still rattling in his grasp.

And at last he felt a wave of relief wash over him, he found the corresponding key for his flat. Swiftly unlocking the door, he squeezed in, almost shutting the door in your face. Almost.

Ripping the door open you were greeted by a bookwormish flat and Marc staring widely at you. “You still owe me the money.” You shut the door behind you and strode over to him. Gripping his arm tightly, you pushed him to the door.

His back hit the hard wall behind him and your hand planted itself next to his head, keeping him caged between the wall and your body. If he was nervous before now he was trembling.

This time he won’t disappear, this time I will get my money out of him.

“So where is it?” You growled in his handsome face. Marc never acted like this no matter how hard he tried to keep his new mask intact, so what was his deal now? Hoping you will turn blind eye and let him spend all your sweet money? Nah. You worked hard for it and no charade could keep you away from it longer than needed.

“So-sorry, what?” He looked kinda adorable, all disheveled and confused. You had no idea Marc could sound so meak. However your now captured prey seemed to turn paler the longer you stood so close.

“Your new identity is a cute bookworm or what?” Turning around you left him with a bit of room to catch his breath. While browsing his knit knacks, books and postcards on the aquarium tank, written by his mom (?), you could hear him taking heavy breaths, trying to compose himself. You lifted one of the paperweights in the shape of a pyramid, weighing it in your hand before throwing it in the air and catching it with another. His, Steven’s, flat seemed homey, that kind of comfy you only get if you properly live in it, not exactly Marc’s style. He usually either put practical stuff in the room or so basic that it felt like walking in a room in Ikea. Your coworker must have got a real knack for it in the meantime you haven’t seen him. The whole London flat exuded a sense of normality, a home you happily go to on a tiring day, full of personal items and loved things. He even got a pet, a one-finned cutie. Was the situation so bad he had to go into deep undercover? Maybe Marc has a sweet secret twin, cause you have never seen him put that much effort in a disguise, not even a new identity and this Steven Grant identity started to grow on you faster than you expected.

“If you are in the middle of some other job… just say it. We both know you always need my help.” You grinned, snarky remarks and so awfully rude comments was something you often did to make Marc snap. “Or just give me what is mine and I will go.” This could be a great deal. Proposing not ruining his new mission was a magnificent leverage.

“You think you can play this game for a long time, hm? Marc.” You kept on strolling around his apartment. Enjoying the dominant hand you had, no bickering and fighting over the upper hand that’s how it normally was with you and Marc. Competition over who could put up with the other one's annoying self.

“Just shut up!” He shouted on top of his lungs, an unsettling feeling now sitting in the dark pit of your stomach. This for sure sounded like a Marc, now British accent and his mannerism seemed to set on the rougher side of the spectrum, not basically covering in the corner like before. You expected him to be angry for this stunt of yours but not like this. He sounded awfully distressed. This job must be incredibly serious even for someone like Marc.

“You have to get out. Now!” There was a vein on his forehead looking like seconds from popping and there was a sweat collection on his brows. You don’t remember Marc being stressed. Maybe on the job in Kahira or the one shoutout in China but that's been years.

You opened your mouth but he cut in again. “You have no idea what's happening and this time I can’t explain it to you, okay? You have to trust me and get out now!” He kept on yelling at you.

“How can I help?” Marc shook his head, trying to sort his thoughts so he could give you at least a decent excuse to kick you out now, before everything went to shit. “You don’t have to explain a shit to me, Marc. I have known you for years and for you to act like this it must be something hella important to you.” Pausing so you could await his answer before adding. “By the way… the British accent is kinda shit.” Grinning at him, you could feel the tension leave the room, finally.

“Yeah, not my idea.” Moving one of the chairs in the kitchen area he lazily sat down. His back bent down under a new kind of tired you have yet to see him deal with.

“Wha-” “His name is Steven and I know it’s kinda hard to believe but he is not me, it's not another secret identity… it's just… him.” He started to murmur, clasping his hands together, his forearms set in his thighs as he proceeded to lean forward.

“I know it's weird but-,” he paused, looking at his tired reflection in the window and fixing his curls, “ could you keep him safe? Just for the time being, please.” Whispering just right above inaudible. You have known Marc for a very long time and he never ever pleaded for anything. This was serious.

“Fine, I kinda don’t understand what’s going on but fine,” you huffed,” I would actually rather work with him than you, he is sweeter.” Smile blossomed on your face.

The snarky comment made the mercenary chuckle in return. “For sure,”he lowered his gaze to the floor,” but remember you wouldn’t survive without me.” He laughed loudly. Marc was still quite pissed at the mess you have thrown him into. If it weren’t for you searching for him Steven wouldn’t have suspected anything. Serves him right for not paying you for the last job.

“Moron.” You growled.

“Idiot.”

***

“So are you now following me around… because you mistook me for someone else? That doesn’t make much sense honestly.” Steven awkwardly laughed, trying to keep you engaged in any kind of conversation. It seemed over his head but he still shoot his shot. You hummed to acknowledge his question while stuffing your mouth full of sandwich. Said sandwich was not half bad even though you would never go for the vegan option. In fact you have never had anything vegan before, however silly Steven took pity on your rumbling stomach and gave you half of his lunch for breakfast. It was not a habit to be so goddamn unprofessional but it felt like Marc could bolt on you in any second, so constant pursuance it was.

He, Steven, you had to remind yourself, was going to work and you let him lead the way, stalking three steps behind him. London streets were crowded as ever, full of people rushing to work and appointments. The sky was painted gray with a breeze carrying any light rubbish in the air.

It’s going to rain soon.

Marc must have had reason to ask you to keep him safe. Were they still after him or did he pissed of new enemy? These thoughts were following you just as you were following sweet Steven to his work. “Sure.” You said with your mouth full, not registering if the egyptology fan kept on talking, he probably was.

“W-What should I call you? I mean, probably your name, right? Of course, if you aren’t on some sort of a secret mission.”

“Are you a secret agent?” He added, turned around and a puzzled expression met your face.

“You can call me your guardian angel, dummy.” Bumping his shoulder with yours as a signal to keep walking.

***

“I actually applied to be one of the tour guides in the museum, unsuccessfully as you can see.”Murmured the last part. He sure was enthusiastic about egyptology just like Marc, more nerdish tho.

“So you know all that stuff? For real?” You were one out of the team that was in the business just for the money. Who could blame you tho, the economy these days was bullshit. And paying rent was not enough. You had to get cash somewhere for new clothes and your other hobbies, right? Living a good life is hella expensive after all.

“Well, yeah!” Steven assured you softly. He looked so hopeful, so much happier than you have seen him in the last couple of days of the surveillance.

“That’s kinda neat…” You admitted to him.

“Tell me something about this one.” You pointed at an old yet still colorful panel with a figure painted on it. This request made him even more chipper, and put a bounce in his step. It made you feel warm seeing him so cheerful. As if on signal Steven turned around to look at you, but you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you smile.

“Oh, Fowling in the marshes, it depicts Nebamun fowl hunting in the marshes with his wife and daughter. It was found in his tomb and it’s said it’s one of the greatest paintings from Ancient Egypt-,” He sounded so at peace while talking about Egyptology, so comfortable in his own skin, “but I am no art critic, so.” Chuckling at his joke you looked at him with a smile, realizing your mistake, corners of your mouth dropped immediately.

“STEVIE! You are late again.” Harsh voice stopped him from continuing.It was that kinda voice that claws its way to your ears and enjoys sending shivers down your spine. And all of it was coming from a blond woman striding to you. His work superior? Considering her rude tone but must have been someone from a higher position than him.

“Is he bothering you? Stevie, what have I told you about bothering our visitors.” She just kept on going and going until finally Steven cut her off.

“She is my friend actually.” His response was met with a pregnant pause from both of you. Were you two friends? Does following someone as a bodyguard count as being friends?

“I didn’t know you had friends.” Remarked what you have later learned was Donna.

Her scowl must have stayed on her face permanently after you had waved her off with a neutral expression. Your first impression of her was horrendous, what an insufferable person. Poor Steven that he must work with her so closely- “I-I like your smile by the way. You should smile more” He interrupted your thoughts just as you were thinking about him. Was it so obvious what you were thinking about?

You could still see Donna standing by, tapping her watch and glaring daggers at him. This was probably your cue to let him go to work peacefully. Maybe you could browse around in the gift shop and visit some exhibitions before it would be the end of his shift.

“Maybe I should.” You affirmed. Changing your mind, you turned around and left before he could say his goodbyes, but still waved your hand as bye to Steven behind you. He didn’t need a babysitter at his work and what could go wrong in the British museum.

There were still so many uncertain things about Steven, of that you were sure. Maybe Marc will one day explain all the details to you. Wait- You still didn’t get back your money…

Damn Marc!

taglist for this fanficiton: @jadewillows1990 @lizzy-95 @ @saulgoode99 @remusstefon @laufeyamp @aarinisreading @loonymagizoologist

#steven grant x reader #mcu #marvel #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector x reader #isa writes #moon knight x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #steven grant fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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husbandohunter · 3 years

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Dear Father [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: Wherever you are wherever you may be, even if you are beyond my reach, I only wish to see you again. -from a letter lost in the wind.

(A story where you and Diluc somehow managed to meet Crepus)

Genre: all fluff

"I know how late I am to father's day but here's my father's day take on Genshin Impact! Just let Diluc be happy for once T_T Mihoyo pls."

============================

Discovering Master Crepus' old belongings was like wandering in a domain surrounded by ancient artifacts. Each piece holding the memory of someone you've never met.

The paintings. Master Crepus loved to paint. Typically birds were the main muse of this portraits since they deeply embodied Mondstadt's values for freedom which shows you how much he cherished this city just like his son did. In almost every hallway you walked through there was a collection of his paintings, some belonged to another artist but the majority was an original work. Diluc didn't have the heart to sell them.

Elzer. He was one of the oldest workers who served under the Ragnvindr name, ever since Master Crepus had appointed him during his earlier days. You were told that he treated everyone, both staff and noble, with equal respect. Almost all the denizens of Mondstadt knew this man for he was not only noble in riches but also in the soul.

"I'm sure he would have loved to meet you in person. Now that I think about it, you and Master Crepus are quite similar. Haha, it seems that Master Diluc was selective in terms of who he wanted for his future bride."

Elzer adds with a light chuckle but the statement only made you more curious. A man who affected the lives of so many others, he must have been a wonderful person.

Diluc. The bloodline Master Crepus left behind after his death, a piece of himself and the heir to the whole wine industry, his son Diluc. Although you could see the resemblance in appearance, both of them were men of prinicples and values, putting Mondstadt first before anything else and you suddenly realized if that was the reason why Diluc was so protective of this city. As if, it were everything he had? You could tell he loved Master Crepus very much, not because he said so, rather the painful expression buried deep within his crimson glare whenever someone brought up the topic. Diluc was skilled in hiding himself, it's something he practiced over the years of working alone, though he lowered his guard as long as you were the only one present.

Even so, he had many conflicts still wringing him internally and you didn't want to push him until the day he felt ready to personally tell you himself.

But it would be nice if he opened up, just a little bit.

There were times when you would worry since Diluc had the tendency to hide his feelings for the sake of not troubling you. He wanted to keep life simple and bright, bringing the best to the table while making sure that you lived safely out of harm's way. You couldn't seem to get him to understand that as lovers, you would be happy to help him, in anything. Unconditionally. It was natural for you to feel the need to force yourself in every once in a while and there was nothing more you wanted to know than the story of the man who raised him.

You would even jest on the idea of what it fel like to meet Master Crepus in person. Were you able to reach his standards by any chance? Would he have liked you just as everyone claimed? Of course, they were only silly indulgent thoughts so you quickly dismissed them in the end. Bringing back the past was impossible no matter how badly you wanted it. You closed your heart on that possibility.

On a lovely evening, while you and Diluc were taking your time off Angel's Share to make a stroll around Mondstadt's quiet streets, a strange merchant called over to you. She displayed various antiques ranging from different sizes to designs, none of them seemed to haven been carved in the same place but distinct cultures throughout Teyvat. The only thing they had in common was that they were all equally beautiful to the eye.

However a particular item of what looks like to be a heart locket snatches your attention and you instantly became mesmerized, allured by it's mysterious charm.

"Ah, the locked heart caught your fancy, my lady? It's said once you open it, you will be set free."

"It's magnificent..." you muttered, staring unabashed at the shining surface.

Diluc who was observing from behind folded his arms and tilts his head, "How much is that?"

Although you intended to simply inspect the choices, your lover immediately offers to pay. They all already gave the impression of a hefty price and you didn't want him to spend his fortune on things that deemed unecessary. Still, this wasn't the first time it happened. Diluc would always insist whenever you protested against him from buying anything, it was just a way of expressing his affections towards you. Mora was never a problem and you were priceless. That's how he sees things. You had to remind yourself to be careful when stumbling upon a bustling area full of salesmen next time.

"Five hundred thousand mora."

He purchased it without hesitation.

On your way home, Diluc noticed that something was amiss. You couldn't tear your gaze from the locket as if it had hypnotized you by the golden smooth surface. He had to ensure you didn't run into anyone by accident, tugging your arm closer so that it gave him an opportunity to lead you where you yourself could not. Surely it must have been the appearance but instead of being drawn by, you were drawn in. Completely.

I wonder...what will happen if I open it?

"(Y/n)?" Diluc narrows his eyebrows together. Did you like it that much? No, he knew you weren't the type to be so etranced by jewelry, this was certainly different. Even the merchant seemed a little suspicious when she approached you and Diluc couldn't ignore the heavy sense of aminosity that was emitted around her aura. He couldn't think within her presence but now that his mind was much clearer, he was able to use his skillful judgements.

"Wait...! Don't open it yet-"

However, he was too late.

The wind picks up at an alarming speed and you both brought up your arms to block the debris that had flown in the way. They swirled in non-stop motion until your worlds were engulfed with not even the sky in sight. Amidst the turmoil Diluc latchest onto you and holds your body close his chest as he was determined to protect against any force that dared to hurt you. Something heavy knocks his head and he winces, tighting his hold even further. Your voice could hardly be heard with all the noise that rung around and eventually you discovered the the world wasn't disappearing. You both were.

The last thought you had was the image of Master Crepus and you didn't know why.

---

"Diluc? Diluc?"

He faintly heard his name through a series of echoes. Diluc fights to regaind concousness, feeling your grip upon his shoulder while trying to urge him awake.

"Diluc are you alright?"

Your worried face was the first thing he sees other than the fog that looms above. Diluc blinks a few times in an attempt to ease his migraine, using one arm to force his body into a seating position as he allowed himself to be supported by you at the same time.

"Does your head hurt?" You ask, palming gently against his forehead to feel the heat. Even if her was usually very warm, there was no unusual rise in tempurature, something must have hit him instead, "Here, maybe this will help."

Bringing out your hand you concentrated on generating the water through your fingertips. Having a hydro vision meant you were capable of healing magic which Diluc appreciated since he often came home late at night with injuries hidden behind his sleeves. But nothing came out and he became even more suspicious of the situation.

"Eh? What's going on?" You blurted out, patting down your clothes and your pockets, "My Vision, it's gone too!"

"Mine as well," Diluc flexes his fingers to test his own element, "It seems that our powers were sealed once we entered this domain."

"A domain that prevents you from using a Vision? That doesn't sound very comforting," you scratched your head, suddenly remembering the cause of your current problem, "The locket...it's all starting to make sense now. Ugh, I should have listened to you earlier, I'm sorry Diluc."

"No (Y/n), you don't have to apologize," he interjects and you returned a curious glance, "I should have stopped you the minute I discovered there was something strange. I was too careless."

"You felt that too? I thought I was the only one," your tone and face mimics one of surprise. The fog continues to dance around, enclosing the two of you to the small area. You lifted your head and looked above in deep contemplation, "When I saw the locket I couldn't tear my eyes off of it, like something was pulling me in. Like...there was a spell casted on it."

"What do you mean?" he asked in an inquisitive manner.

You nod, "I can't put my finger on it bit Ifel that the locket wanted me to..." balling your fist upon your lap, you stared intensely at the floor as if drilling holes into them while digging into the depths of your mind for any specific clues. Initially you thought the locket was so captivating that you were simply charmed by it's craftmanship. But tere was more than that, you began deciphering, there was also a need for fulfillment. A yearning desire, "to know. The locket was calling me to know."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

"To know..." you trailed off. How strange. No matter how much you tried to rationalize, you were always brought back to the same square as if the locket knew exactly what you wanted. What you were lacking. Because the one thing you wanted to know most about was the person you've never met, "Someone very important to you."

The fog dispersed.

Diluc instinctively puts an arm in front of you defensively as he scanned his quick and thorough eyes around the area. It didn't take long for him to know exactly where everything was. In fact, the abrupt change isn't what puts him on high alert, but it was how familiar everything looked to the point he evaluates if there was any reason to be skeptical or if he should be breathtaken.

"What a beautiful house," However you didn't recognize it. Diluc knew because he had yet to meet you during the time he lived in this estate, "I wonder who does it belong to?"

"Father's old mansion...how?" Diluc breatlessly mutters, as if seeing the supremecy of Celestia for the first time. When years passed after his father died, he chose to sell off the majority of his belongings, the mansion being on for example. Currently it was in the possession of a well-known business associate that used to be a friend of Crepus. The mansion would likely have looked much different due to the renovations it gone through but Diluc remembers the picture as if this were yesterday. Everything was in tact. The vine yard, the gazebo where they drank tea, the hill that he and Kaeya used to race on when they were kids-

Revelation burns in his pupils as his eyes expanded.

"Welcome home, my son."

Both you and Diluc fall wordless at the sight that appeared like a miracle's blessing. Crepus stands at a distance, the graceful smile complimenting his warm features. He looked exactly how the court artists portrayed him in the Ragnvindr's family picture. Sharp face with gentle eyes and an aura that was as pleasant as what Elzer described.

"So this is why the locket was calling to us," you whispered, "I guess the mora really was worth it after all."

"...Fa...ther...."

You snuck a glance at Diluc. From behind the resemblance was as clear as dawn, like you were staring at a carbon copy of Master Crepus himself. Almost. He was a less hardened version of Diluc during uncommon situations. It made you think just how much you didn't know before his father passed away. What kind of person was this man during his days as a knight? You never had the chance to know.

"Father is that really you?" Diluc couldn't help his voice from trembling, paralyzed in place when he could hardly make sense of what stands in front of him. The person he longed to hear from, the person who left the world too quick, Diluc was afraid to get his hopes up in case his father suddenly disappeared and everything was just an illusion conjured by his mind. He was already used to being betrayed and dealt with disappointment too often. Which is why he learned to trust only himself. But, right now, can he really trust himself?

Feeling your hand gently on his shoulders, Diluc was brought back to reality. You smiled with warm reassurance that bled into your voice, "It's okay Diluc. Go, I'm here for you."

There was the faintest light shining in his eyes as emotions swell in his chest. Ever since you came Diluc never had to feel alone anymore, truly, you were the light that was brought back into his eyes, to his life when he gave up the thought of seeing it again. If he couldn't trust himself then at the very least, he could trust you.

"Thank you," he embraces you wholly like you were everything, and you were, before letting go and taking off to the otherside.

The air hits him in a rush and knocks the ones out of his lungs, "Father!" Diluc yells with tearful eyes. For the first time in a long while he was finally letting his feelings run free, "Father!" A name that felt foreign upon words that is pushes him forward, wanting to claim the truth that was smiling from afar.

"Father!"

Crepus lifted his arms and openly catches Diluc when he crashed into him. Here. He was here. He certainly was.

"Haha its been a while hasn't it my son?" He begins, encasing Diluc in a hug like he did the day he turned eighteen. Crepus was a tall man and his genes seemed to have went through. Back when they were younger, Diluc managed to only reach the blade of his shoulders, just barely. Now they were practically the same height, "Look how much you've grown over the years. There were so many things I planned to say but I don't know where to start."

Seven years. That was how long Crepus spent alone with his thoughts. He saw what happened through that time span, the truth about the Knights and Kaeya's origins. To say that none of that bothered him would be a lie. Especially when his son was the most impacted throughout all the events.

"Father I...I-" Diluc tries to speak but the words dissolved the moment it reached his tongue. He wasn't the type to be very good at expressing emotions. None of it could simply be communicated by sentences. For him, actions spoke louder yet somehow, they still wouldn't be enough. Nothing can comprehend the weight of seven years.

Crepus seemed to have understood and fills in the gap instead, "I have also missed you and Kaeya. More than I can even say. It must have been so hard for you both to endure it all by yourselves. Life hits us when we least expect it but despite that, you still chose to persevere."

Diluc clenches his hold, face buried in his shoulders and mouth quivering as he barely answers, "Yeah."

"You're both my pride and joy no matter what happens, as a father I cannot be more proud," before knowing, everything that was said came out naturally from his spirit. Crepus may have his own set of things to share but he knew what Diluc needed the most, "So please don't stop relying on one another, don't always think that you have to do everything alone. Stength is a virtue. However, its okay to let go and allow new people to come into your life. I don't need to be avenged, as long as you and Kaeya are happy, its all I ask for."

As if the world had been lifted from his shoulders, Diluc allows himself to break just this once. On the outside, he was known to be an unstoppable force, the Mondstadt tycoon, the uncrowned king and a hero who serves at night. But here you saw only a boy who dearly missed his father as he hugs him tightly. Although you couldn't hear their conversation clearly, just watching them from where you stood was enough to make your eyes glisten from pure happiness.

"You finally chose to open your heart, right Diluc?" You quietly note to yourself, "You don't have to carry everything by yourself anymore, you're free."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

He was able to dwell in this one in a lifetime experience, all because you unlocked the heart and dispersed the fog inside.

They spent a good amount of minutes bringing the distance back together after being seperated for so many years. You made sure to make minimal movements in the consideration of their time. It was only temporary until Crepus noticed you standing in the distance and he gave you a quick glance. Your whole body tenses in response, suddenly feeling guilty as if you were a third wheel who didn't belong in the moment between two family members.

He's staring at me. Diluc's father is staring at me! Your thoughts panicked along with your thrumming heart. What should I do?!!

"I see you've brought someone along with you," He comments, the playfulness rising in his tone, "She seems to have been waiting for quite a while already. If you don't mind, may you do the honours of introducing her to me?"

Diluc turns to see you stiffened in place with your hands tightly clasped below your stomach and heat pooling from your ear to your cheeks as you dipped your head down. His father was a kind man and he couldn't understand there the discomfort came from, yet found it endearing nonetheless. Diluc walks over to you and extends his hand, silently urging you to come with him. You complied, albeit hesitantly at first.

"It'll be okay my love," he whispered softly, causing you to be taken aback by the nickname he called you by. Diluc often reserves them for special instances and this was one of them, "Whatever the staff told you about my father, they're the truth. Trust in their judgement. Trust in me."

"Diluc..." you say, voice fading. You knew him to be someone who always kept his word and someone who would never lie to you. Taking in a short breath, you nodded, "Alright, I will," and followed his lead.

There was once a time where you indulged in the idea of facing Master Crepus in person. But never did you prepare yourself for the amount of pressure it came with. Now that you were together with his son, there was a high chance that he would also become part of his family too, sooner or later. You weren't just meeting Master Crepus. You were also meeting your future father-in-law.

"Father, this is (Y/n)," Diluc starts the welcoming exchanges. You felt his hand squeeze yours gently. He turns to you so that you caught glimpse of his face, seeing the reverance in his gaze that was hinted among his handsome features, "She's the woman I fell in love with and I would do anything to make her happy. I cherish her more than anything else."

"D-Diluc!" you flushed, your embarassment as red as his own hair. But he wasn't bothered by it in the slightest.

"I only speak the truth."

Master Crepus lets out a content chuckle, drawing both of your attentions back to him, "He can be surprising poetic sometimes but I'm sure that he got it from me. Even my wife reacted the same way," he reminisced shortly before sighing, "In truth I already knew that you were together. Staying in the after life gave me the chances to watch things from an omniscient standpoint, I was sincerely worried how Diluc would handle things when I suddenly left, I hope you don't mind. If you do, I apologize for making you uncomfortable."

"N-Not at all!"

"Haha, you're very kind. Thank you. I'm glad that my son was able to find a woman like you to be his fated partner. As a parent, it brings me great reassurance," Crepus remarked, "I know he can be stubborn and a little too headstrong when it comes to making decisions. It really must be a handful for you to deal with at times but I promise you that he means well. So please continue to watch over him in my stead, take care of my son while I'm gone."

"You can count on me," you beamed, "I'll give it my all."

"You have my gratitude (Y/n)," Crepus replies and turned to Diluc, "And listen to her every once in a while. I may have been the previous owner of our wine industry but even I always make sure to get me sufficient amount of rest. Son you know its bad to get two to three hours of sleep every day."

You blinked, "Two to three hours?"

Diluc clears his throat, "I understand Father. You don't have to say it."

Oh I think he does.

With a satisfied grin, Crepus took both of your hands together in his and gave you his blessings. The man once considered to be an artifact through the vast mansion was going to be part of the memories in your life. All of your expressions held as much happiness as the future can become now that he gave you the closure you both needed.

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jxsatlas · 3 years

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍 ⇢ keith kogane, ch. 2

keith kogane x gn! reader – previous, next

DISCLAIMER! this story does not originally belong to me, the author is @MaddieWolf37 on Wattpad. i have simply received permission to rewrite and continue her story. go and check out her profile for the original version!

SYNOPSIS! a story in which you are thrown into the middle of an intergalactic space war and have the undesirable weight of being a symbol of peace dropped on your shoulders. but maybe if you look past the constant danger and endless fighting, there's some good to being a paladin of voltron.

MATURE CONTENT! swearing, violence, gore, war, graphic descriptions, mentions of self-harm

The roof..? you think to yourself as you watch Pidge disappear through the stairwell. The three of you give it a moment before following him up. Your footsteps will echo loudly in the enclosed stairwell, and you have a hunch that it won't be good if Pidge hears you at this point.

So you try to climb the stairs as quietly as possible, but you still make some noise. It's hard not to when there's three of you.

You reach the top and Lance opens the door leading to the roof slowly. Pidge sits close to the edge of the roof, surrounded by various types of tech. His figure is silhouetted by the glow of the screens.

Lance shoves his hands in his pockets and sneaks up to Pidge, who doesn't hear your brother's approach because of the bulky green headphones he wears.

You and Hunk walk out onto the roof. You shiver slightly from the breeze, wishing you had put on some longer pants.

Lance grabs Pidge's headphones and pulls them off of his ears. "You come here to rock out?" Lance asks, causing Pidge to jump five feet into the air. He relaxes when he realises it's just you three.

"Oh, hey guys," he says.

"Hello," you say and give him a friendly wave.

Lance looks over the tech. "Hey, where'd you get this stuff? It doesn't look like Garrison tech," he asks, furrowing his brows.

Pidge smirks. "I built it," he says with pride.

Hunk's interest is piqued. He steps closer and starts looking over all the things Pidge has laying around him. Although Pidge has to smack Hunk's hands away a couple of times to keep him from touching his stuff.

"With this, I can scan all the way to the edge of the solar system," Pidge explains.

"All the way to Kerberos?" you ask with a smile as you join Hunk, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and awe.

Pidge hangs his head a little and grumbles at the mention of Pluto's moon.

Lance irks. "You go ballistic every time that's brought up! What's your deal?" he asks in an annoyed tone, but Pidge is hesitant to answer. "Look, we can't have any secrets between us if we wanna bond as a team," Lance says as he puts his hand on his hip.

Pidge looks down at his hands in his lap for a moment, letting Lance's words settle in. He sighs and looks up at the three of you. "Fine. I'll tell you."

He looks back at the objects laying around him and picks up a small notepad. You can't see what's scribbled all over the page as he holds it close to his chest.

"The world as you know it is about to change," Pidge says ominously, looking back at us. "The Kerberos Mission wasn't lost due to some crew malfunction. So, I've been scanning the solar system and picked up alien radio chatter."

"Aliens?" your eyes widen.

"Wait, aliens? Like the little green dudes? Or something bigger and meaner? Like Predator?" Hunk questions with fear, but Pidge only shrugs. This makes him uneasier.

Lance, however, isn't bothered at all by the mention of extraterrestrial life. "Okay, so you're insane," he insults.

"I'm serious," Pidge says sharply, glaring at your brother. "They've been repeating one word, Voltron," he says as he holds up the notepad.

Scribbled on the page with various coloured pencils looks to be something straight out of a Transformers movie. The word Voltron is messily written in big letters above it.

"What is it?" you question, taking the notepad from Pidge's hands. You stare at it. "It looks like a warrior or something."

"It's a superweapon," Pidge answers, "And the aliens are crazier about it more than I have ever heard," Pidge says, turning back to his tech.

"How crazy?" you ask.

The school alarms start to blare the moment the words leave my mouth. A voice crackles over the loudspeakers placed throughout the campus.

"Attention students!" the voice says. You all pause and listen, wondering silently if this has something to do with what Pidge was talking about. "This is not a drill."

You swallow. For some reason, the coincidental emergency announcement makes you uneasy. You grab onto your brother's sleeve in hope of a bit of comfort.

"We are on lockdown," the voice informs. "Security situation Zulu Niner. All students are to remain in barracks until further notice."

The voice repeats the announcement a couple of times, making you feel worse. Whatever it is must be serious.

Hunk stammers, pointing to something in the sky. "Is- Is that a meteor?" he asks wearily. "A really, really big meteor?"

You look up to see a giant bright ball falling towards the earth. Your heart climbs up to your throat and a worried expression takes over your face. Are those the aliens Pidge has been talking about?

Pidge grabs a pair of binoculars he had sitting next to him, using them to look up at the object burning up in the atmosphere.

"It's a ship!" Pidge exclaims.

Lance reaches over and snatches the binoculars from Pidge, taking a look for himself. "Holy crow! That is not one of ours!" he says.

"No, it's one of theirs," Pidge says with awe.

You watch it shoot across the sky, crashing down to the earth in the far distance with a loud boom, a trail of smoke behind it. For a moment, you just stare, trying to process what just happened.

Is this real? Or is it just some dream?

Lance jumps up excitedly. "We have to check out that ship!" he shouts, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the stairwell. Pidge quickly packs his tech into his backpack and him and Hunk race after the two of us.

"Is that your idea of team bonding?" you ask.

"Yeah!" Lance chirps happily, racing down the stairs with you, Hunk, and Pidge trying to keep up with him.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

The four of you are now perched upon a ledge not too far off from the crash site. The Garrison had beat you to it and were guarding the area heavily. They have the ship loaded up on a large, flatbed truck and a big, science tent set up off to the side. Scientists and high-ranking Garrison officers walk in and out of the said tent and you wonder what they have in there.

Did they find something? An alien? A strange artifact?

Pidge types away furiously on his laptop while Lance surveys the area with a pair of binoculars. You and Hunk sit back, tired and not really wanting to be there. Your head rests on his shoulder and you start to nod. The boredom you feel from the lack of interesting events is getting to you.

How long have you been there exactly?

"Hey," Pidge says, looking back at you and Hunk. You jolt out of your half-asleep state and sit up. "They set up a camera inside and I managed to hack into it and pull up the feed."

You stand up and stretch, yawning as well, and walk over to Pidge. You plop down beside him as he adjusts his position so you can all see his computer screen.

Your eyes widen when you register what you're seeing on the feed. A human man is strapped down to a metal table, his eyes darting around frantically as he struggles against the metal restraints.

He looks extremely familiar and his name is on the tip of your tongue, but you can't quite make out what it is.

A couple more scientists walk into the tent, joining the one that's already in there. They start to prepare a few things, and now that he has an audience, the man starts to shout a few things.

"Shiro, calm down," one of the scientists says, walking over to the man and placing his hand on his shoulder. "We just have to keep you quarantined until we run some tests on you."

"Shiro?" You say under your breath, the identity of the man now clicking in your brain. He was the pilot on the Kerberos mission. Him and his crew were pronounced dead about a year ago. But obviously, that isn't the case, and Pidge knew that for some unknown reason. Shiro is alive. Are his crewmates alive as well?

"Do you know how long you were gone?" a scientist asks.

"I don't know! Months? Maybe years?" Shiro answers frantically. "But we don't have time! Aliens are coming, they're probably on their way right now! They'll destroy us! We have to find Voltron!"

The four of you share a look of shock at the mention of the superweapon, wondering how Shiro knows about it.

"Sir, take a look at this," a scientist says and gestures to Shiro's right arm. "It appears his arm was replaced with a cyborg prosthetic."

The other scientist nods. "Alright. Put him under until we know what that thing can do."

Shiro jerks his body, pulling against the metal restraints at those words. "No! No! Don't put me under! There's no time!"

You watch with wide eyes as the scientists inject an anaesthetic into Shiro, not heeding a single word that comes out of his mouth. You definitely would, seeing how blatantly obvious it is that Shiro was captured by aliens.

"They didn't ask about the rest of his crew," Pidge says, a frown tugging down at his lips.

Lance furrows his brows. "They aren't even listening to him! That guy's a legend," he says.

"We have to get him out," Pidge says.

"Wait, weren't we just watching the feed because we couldn't get in?" You say, raising a brow at the others. "Plus, the place is heavily guarded. It's a miracle we haven't been spotted yet."

"True, but now we're properly motivated," Lance says and holds his chin in his hand. "We can come up with a plan."

Silence only gets a second to settle before Pidge perks up. "Oh! Maybe we can get some hazmat suits and dress up like scientists and sneak in!"

"That could work," You say with a shrug, "But I don't think they have spare suits just lying around in the open desert."

Pidge shrugs. "It's an option."

"Maybe we could tunnel in?" Lance suggests.

"That'll take time we don't have," you say with a roll of your eyes.

"I have an idea!" Hunk announces and you look at him. "Why don't we head back, dress up like chefs, sneak into the commissary, and have a late-night snack?"

"Food does sound appealing," You say and place your hand on your stomach. It's been a few hours since you have eaten dinner and you can feel a minor hunger.

Lance shakes his head. "No, what we need is a distraction–"

You scream when large explosions go off in the not-so-far distance. The loud, booming noise hurts your ears and you slap your hands over them, hoping to muffle it out. You squeeze your eyes shut out of fear.

When it's quiet, you peek through one eye to make sure everything's okay before opening both. Your hands fall to your lap as Hunk starts to panic.

"Were those the aliens? Are they coming for us?" he asks wearily.

"No. That was a distraction," Pidge says and points to something kicking up dust. "For him!"

Pulling up on a red, hoverbike beside a boulder near the tent is another person. Almost immediately you recognise the dark mullet and red jacket, and your brother seems to as well.

"Oh no," Lance growls and jumps up to his feet. "He is not beating me in there!" he says as he slides down the steep side of the small cliff.

Your brother runs towards the tent.

"Who's he?" Pidge asks, shoving his stuff into his bag once again to chase after Lance.

"Keith!" Lance shouts.

"Are you sure?" Hunk asks, following after him.

"Oh, I'd recognise that mullet anywhere!"

You roll your eyes and chase after Lance.

You know Keith as well. He was one of your classmates until he dropped out halfway through the school year.

He was top of the fighter pilot class with you just under him. You always got a score a few points less than his, and secretly strove to surpass him.

You were actually on pretty good terms with him though, seeing as your instructors liked to pair you up for team activities. The two of you were more promising than the rest when working together, so it made sense.

As you run towards the tent, you wonder what he's been up to. And if he even remembers you.

#voltron #keith #keith kogane #fan fiction #fanfic #x reader #keith x reader #vld #vld keith #vld fanfic #voltron keith #voltron legendary defender #gender neutral reader

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sorrels-scribbling · 3 years

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Run (To Me) || Chapter Two - To Make A House A Home || Douxie x Reader

Summary: Running is all you’ve ever known. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. One thing’s for sure, though: you aren’t certain what to do when you finally have someone to run to.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 703

Tags: @furblrwurblr @alovesongshewrote @alive-and-afraid @anywayitsdouxie

if you want me to not tag you anymore just send a message lmfao

This time, when you wake up, you’re calm. Even though you’re briefly disoriented, there’s no panic. Slowly, you get to your feet and rub at your eyes before looking around.

Once you have your bearings again, you shuffle out of the apartment and into the bookstore, finally taking some time to look around both at the layout of the place and the books they have in stock. Some of the books and displayed odds and ends, you notice, are humming with an energy you can only suppose is magic. In all the centuries you can recall, you had never encountered any actually magical artifacts, and yet here they are, all around you.

The flow of energy surrounds and fills you in a way you can only possibly describe as comforting, and some of the books or objects feel familiar.

Like home.

As you carefully pull a book from the shelf, feeling the magic interwoven with the pages, you hear someone approaching behind you. This time, instead of firing off a spell on reflex, you turn to see who it is.

“Douxie,” you greet, lowering the book in your hands as your attention goes to him.

“(Y/N), you’re looking much better. I’m glad to see it,” he says with a smile, glancing down at the book in your hands. “What got your attention?” He asks, and you pass the thick, worn tome over to him.

“I felt sort of compelled to grab that one. I haven’t even looked at the cover yet,” you admit, tilting your head slightly as you try to read the cover upside down.

M. AMBROSIUS the book reads in heavy, dark lettering. The author, presumably. Douxie’s expression shifts and his gaze darts between you and the book a few times before he hands it back.

“You can hang onto it, if you’d like,” he says, more insistent than you’d have expected. You just nod and take it from him, staring down at it for a long moment.

“So, Douxie, can I... ask you about something?” You ask, not looking up from the cover of the book.

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

“You said you’re nine hundred years old. Can you tell me about where you’re from?”

When you finally look up at him again, he seems almost hesitant, but he nods nevertheless.

“Sure, yeah,” he says, turning away from you to instead lean against the banister and look down at the lower floor of the bookstore. “I’m from Camelot. I’m Merlin’s apprentice, actually.”

As he starts reminiscing, you trail behind him and then settle against the railing next to him.

“I knew King Arthur, sort of. He never talked to me, on account of me just being an apprentice, and a magical one at that. I knew Morgana somewhat well, though. She was Merlin’s apprentice before me,” he says, and you nod along with him, watching his profile as he stares at noting in particular.

“Was it just you guys?”

“Nah, there was another kid who I was apprenticing with. We were pretty close, I’d like to think.”

“So... where are they now?”

“Dunno. They disappeared maybe eight centuries ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

He just shrugs and shakes his head, straightening up again. “I’ve had enough time to learn to cope with it. I just hope they’re alright, wherever they are.” Then he turns to walk away, but his gaze lingers on you, expression hard to read.

Before you can ask him, though, he looks away again and starts heading for the staircase. “That’s enough reminiscing for me, I think. You can keep looking around, if you’d like. I should get back to the shop proper.”

You offer up a vague nod, brow furrowed as you try to work out what that strange look had meant.

Then he's gone, leaving you to wander and peruse the books and artifacts to your heart’s content, which you do for a little while. However, you were never were very good at sitting in one place for a particularly long time.

You figure enough time has passed that it wouldn’t be weird for you to just... follow Douxie downstairs. So, that’s what you do. Then, you hear a discussion that makes you pause.

#scribbles #hisirdoux casperan #toa hisirdoux #hisirdoux #hisirdoux x reader #douxie #douxie x reader #Douxie Casperan #toa #toa x reader #toa wizards #run (to me)

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tossawary · 3 years

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Chapter 26 “ What You Want” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Oh, this got so long, though. I was like, “An opportunity to wax poetic about Moshang dynamics and characterization? An opportunity to talk about why my interpretations of Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are Like That? SIGN ME UP.”

【Beginning next mission stage.】

【Death of the Author - Part 2: The Secret Basement of Shang Qinghua.】

【Mission objective: place the Weeper’s Eye on the pedestal.】

Shang Qinghua slowly sits up on his sofa. He stares at the pop-up window for however long it takes his brain to roll over completely.

“I don’t have a fucking basement?” he says finally.

AN: I have been waiting to use “I don’t have a fucking basement?” for months. Also, it’s been years for him, so Shang Qinghua is a little oblivious, BUT I would like to point readers all the way back to some paragraphs from Chapter 2.

Excerpt from Chapter 2: “A Horseshoe Nail”:

Shang Qinghua considers the point loss. What are his excuses character motivations here? Why is his unmerciful System not completely skewering him for this?

He is the servant of a demon lord, Mobei-Jun, the future Northern King, so he has a greater investment than most cultivators in the future of the Demon Realm, so it’s not unreasonable for him to seek out any bastards of Tianlang-Jun without handing the demon baby over to a righteous sect. He’s also a Peak Lord of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, so it’s not unreasonable for him to be interested in any rumors of the whereabouts of Su Xiyan or what happened to her, for political leverage or whatever. The character of Shang Qinghua originally was and still is a spy - on top of being a shameless coward willing to cling to anyone’s thighs and then stab them in the back, in order to stay alive or advance himself.

There are plenty of magical artifacts in this world that might give a power-grubbing weakling like Shang Qinghua an insight into the future. As Peak Lord of An Ding, Shang Qinghua is, in fact, in a pretty good place to get his greedy hands on one of these magical artifacts. Isn’t that what a good spy and overall ambitious snake would do?

Especially a spy serving a demon lord extremely likely to get fed up with him and kill him at some point? While also serving a righteous cultivation sect extremely likely to execute him for eventually betraying them? Of course Shang Qinghua would obviously want to know how to save his own ass from these ticking time-bombs! And how better to save his own ass than shamelessly clinging to the golden thighs of the protagonist, who will one day conquer every other demon lord and all righteous sects?

Following Luo Binghe means being on the endgame winning team!

Shang Qinghua looks over the pop-up window’s numbers over again, in regards to the loss of points. True, how exactly he tracked down Su Xiyan’s half-demon baby when the Huan Hua Palace Master failed is a bit of a plot-hole, but the rest can be easily explained away with a bit of creativity!

Oh, the rest of the cultivation world didn’t know Su Xiyan was pregnant? Well, Shang Qinghua is a slimy, sneaky spy, who would of course guess that a female cultivator might suddenly disappear like that for months-on-end due to a secret pregnancy! And given that Su Xiyan’s reputation had been linked to a passionately self-destructive Tianlang-Jun… Okay, he can feel the anti-fan rage at that mildly sexist line of thinking, but it stands! It stands!

Now, Shang Qinghua just has to… actually decide… whether or not he wants to take the point loss, in order to save the life of his protagonist son’s adoptive mother, Luo Jiahui.

Shang Qinghua, my darling fool of an Author God, your System is listening to the things you say and think.

I have been WORKING here to foreshadow where I’m going with this story. I’m pretty sure that every single endgame plot point has shown up and is now in play in PINTWILF. Shang Qinghua, due to situational awareness, is dealing with too much in-world shit to narrow things down easily, but it’s all there! It will hopefully not seem as though I’m pulling things out of nowhere in the next and final part (Part 4) of this fic.

“This makes me look crazy, bro,” Shang Qinghua complains to the System. “It really does. I already have to be careful about talking to the secret, world-controlling system that lives in my head and this? This is not making me look any more stable! Where did this come from? Where the fuck did I even get it?! ”

Oh, things are coming together in Shang Qinghua’s head and he doesn’t know if he really likes the picture. On one hand, it’s always nice to actually have someone or something to blame for things beyond the fucking System. On the other hand, he really doesn’t know how the fuck he’s supposed to sleep at night with a full-length, polished silver mirror with an ornate golden frame under his house.

AN: Shang Qinghua, have you noticed that you’ve stopped losing points for continuity errors and plot holes? Shang Qinghua, you know that the people in your life have noticed that you know too much. They’ve just decided not to question you about it because you always look like you’re going to faint when they do, then you laugh and change the subject.

But now Shen Qingqiu is on to you and he’s not so easy to shake.

(Plus Shen Yuan! They’re terriers, SQH!)

He turns away from the mirror, only for a second System window to pop up in front of him. Only… the design of this one is different. Familiar, though! It takes Shang Qinghua a second to place it as Peerless Cucumber- as Shen Yuan’s Transmigration System.

【 Users cannot be injured, killed, or trapped inside the looking-glass! The user will not be able to touch or be touched by anything inside the looking-glass! The user will be returned from the looking-glass within thirty minutes, unharmed! A substantial point reward is attached to this bonus mission. 】

“Right,” Shang Qinghua says.

This second pop-up window then shifts colors and is ruthlessly closed before his eyes. Ah, wow, Shang Qinghua kind of feels like he just saw someone get murdered here.

“...How many points?” he asks finally, reluctantly curious.

AN: Having the Systems fight is so much fun. My setup here in PINTWILF has it so that there’s a main Worldbuilding System that does its best to maintain the world, then each transmigrator has their own personal Transmigration System managing their case.

This is so the Worldbuilding System can maintain the world without the presence of transmigrators, and so the personal Systems can potentially follow their transmigrators into another world. All the Systems interact with each other in order to try to manage things and there are... issues.

Look, the thing about simulated (or managed) realities for me is... someone coded the thing (or did some equivalent of coding the thing), and whether or not this thing in question is the world or just the System, if there are multiple entities trying to manage things, there’s going to be fuck-ups. You can’t have two cooks in the kitchen without points where the two cooks get in each other’s way at least a little bit. If there are multiple Systems, then you’re going to have friction, and that friction can be funny.

Inspired by me trying to run two heavy art programs on my computer at once and being like, “Oh, boy, please don’t burst into flames while duking it out in there. Oh, man, you two were NOT made to operate together, huh?”

He knows he’s right when he walks away from some kind of important-looking procession, stepping into the next room at the same time as someone else, who looks directly at him and doesn’t look away. Shang Qinghua freezes in the doorway and doesn’t let himself stare so much as he can’t stop himself.

“Oh, no,” Shang Qinghua thinks.

There’s a man standing in front of him, tall and broad-shouldered, with an ageless youth, but a sharp gaze and no youthful roundness to his features. His curly black hair has been cursorily held back from his face by a golden ornament, but is otherwise loose, and he wears his ornate red and black robes well and correctly, but like a man with a hundred more.

The man flicks a strong hand at the doors behind Shang Qinghua, which slam shut with a bang, like he’s done this a thousand times before.

He smiles unkindly. “Shang-Shishu,” he says, like he’s tasting the title, considering tearing it apart with his teeth. “So it's true. How curious.”

There’s no way for Shang Qinghua to count how many times he’s seen this face before, but he’s never seen it like this. The man looks like an emperor. He looks like a god. The red mark of the Heavenly Demons burns like a crown in the middle of his forehead.

Shang Qinghua takes an unwilling step back.

“What are you afraid of?” the original Luo Binghe says, still smiling. “We’re only talking.”

AN: I tried to make this meeting mirror Shang Qinghua and Luo Binghe’s first scene in Part 3 of the fic, in which we finally meet the Luo Binghe (Shang Qinghua’s nephew) who is going to interact with the PIDW plot.

Excerpt from Chapter 18: “The Inevitable Plot”:

The restaurant is closed when Shang Qinghua lets himself in. The tables in the dining room are still packed up, lit by dim light through shuttered windows, and the only sign of another person are the chopping sounds coming from the brightness of the kitchen. Shang Qinghua stops in the doorway and lets himself stare.

There’s a young teenage boy standing at the counter, thirteen going on fourteen, still not yet near his adult height (taller than Shang Qinghua, a fact he's still not prepared to face), still carrying a youthful roundness to his features. Shang Qinghua has seen him like this a hundred times before: curly black hair tied back, a kerchief covering his head to keep it out of his eyes, a slightly yellowed matching apron neatly tied just the way his mother taught him, and intent on the work in front of him. His hands are quick, the knife sharp and sure, and the movements of food preparation work slide right into each other like he’s done this a thousand times before.

When did the boy get so big? It didn’t happen all at once; it snuck up on them, hiding dastardly in plain sight! Shang Qinghua remembers when his nephew barely came up to his waist. Fuck, Shang Qinghua remembers when his nephew couldn’t walk. What is this? Who allowed time to pass like this?

Luo Binghe scrapes the chopped vegetables off the board and into the basket beside him, before putting down the knife and turning around. He smiles.

There’s no way for Shang Qinghua to count how many times he’s seen that before.

“Uncle,” the protagonist says fondly. “You’re here.”

“Let’s talk,” Luo Binghe calls out, cajoling now. “Stop running and speak to me and perhaps old hurts can be forgiven. All that condonation and betrayal is so far in the past now. This lord can be merciful, Shang Qinghua. Just speak: how many things have you been hiding...?”

AN: This is PIDW Luo Binghe, by the way.

Once I realized I was going to have a room full of fortune-telling devices, I was like... “Ooh! Bing-Ge scene! I should have a Bing-Ge scene!” Because, like, that’s the curse of SVSSS transmigrator protagonists who trip into caring about Luo Binghe, baby!

Shang Qinghua takes some deep breaths to calm his poor, weak heart, and nearly falls to the floor anyway! But he catches himself!

And then a large, cold hand wraps around his arm to steady him. It’s the cold that keeps him from lashing out and probably breaking his own hand. Instead, he looks up, heart still pounding in his ears, into the frowning face of Mobei-Jun.

“Oh, you have the worst timing,” Shang Qinghua breathes.

Mobei-Jun’s expression twitches and he lets go.

“No!” Shang Qinghua chases the hand with his own, catching it before the man can get too far. “My king, I’m so glad to see you! Thank you for finally coming! I have so much to say,” he says quickly. “I-”

Before he realizes that he’s essentially holding Mobei-Jun’s hand for no reason now - ah, now that’s something he never would have dared to do like twenty years ago - and carefully drops it. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the panic still racing through his veins. And then promptly realizes that Mobei-Jun is here. The demon lord is here in this secret basement.

AN: Moshang in this fic is... hmmm... a little weird sometimes, because a lot of it has been happening in the background. A lot of it has been unspoken until Shang Qinghua’s breakdown and until now.

Shang Qinghua isn’t actually as scared of Mobei-Jun in this fic as he is in SVSSS, and I hope that comes across. When he had his breakdown, part of it was fear, but a large part of it was also actually anger. Shang Qinghua was afraid of how the System had changed his life, but he was also angry about this loss of control. Yes, he was terrified of Mobei-Jun because he didn’t know if it was still his Mobei-Jun, which brought lots of old memories and old anger to the surface, in which Shang Qinghua was kind of like, “How dare you think you get to freely touch me after the things you did and never apologized for?”

BUT the status quo in this world, before the World Update, is one in which Mobei-Jun touches Shang Qinghua’s hip without SQH flinching. It’s one in which SQH and MBJ drink and relax together. It’s one in which SQH isn’t afraid to reach out and grab MBJ’s hand, because he misses MBJ.

They’re so close, they just need to actually talk it out.

Shang Qinghua glances at the ladder and the open hole in the floor. “Ah, my king, did you… climb down here looking for me?”

“Yes,” Mobei-Jun answers, looking around with sharp eyes. He doesn’t seem to be very impressed with what he’s seeing. “...What is this place?”

“My, ah, my basement,” Shang Qinghua answers, leaving out the part where he didn’t even know he had one until about an hour ago. The System is determined to make him look like a bit of a madman, huh? “It’s just… just some artifacts and tools. I don’t… I don’t really come down here a lot…”

Mobei-Jun finishes studying the room, then stares at him again, his gaze more piercing than ever.

“The future concerns you this much?” he says.

Shang Qinghua is totally prepared to deny everything, but the phrasing of that cuts off every story he might try to tell. He glances around the room, full of these broken, desperate, stolen things. It’s… reflecting.

“...Yes,” he admits, hoarsely. Then coughs. “I… my king, we should… talk.”

“Yes,” Mobei-Jun agrees.

“But, ah, not here? I don’t… like it here.”

“Yes.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is one of the people who has noticed that Shang Qinghua knows more than he should. And now, thanks to this secret basement, Mobei-Jun has an explanation for why Shang Qinghua knows more than he should!

If you don’t know about the System element, then this basement is actually pretty in-character for the new Shang Qinghua of PINTWILF.

He is so scared of the future. He’s invested in the story now.

Shang Qinghua isn’t surprised at all when the special item speaks again as soon as it’s back in his hand.

Why would it shut up now, after all?

“He has no name but the position he has been promised to, which he may not live to see,” the Weeper’s Eye says, which pulls Shang Qinghua’s gaze back to the demon lord waiting for him. “His father uses him as a tool. His mother is long departed. His uncle wants him dead. He has long known that these broken promises cannot be undone… but he knows new promises may yet be made.”

Mobei-Jun is frowning at the crystal eye in Shang Qinghua’s hand, looking between it and Shang Qinghua’s own eyes.

He’s not dressed-up the same way he was the last time Shang Qinghua saw him - no especially fancy robes or ornaments or jewelry. He looks like himself this time.

“If these ones are not kept, there will be nothing for the nameless man who will be king.”

Shang Qinghua doesn’t move.

AN: I mentioned exploring Mobei-Jun not having a name in the commentary on the previous chapter. I guess that’s my take on PIDW Mobei-Jun... that the man doesn’t really have anything outside of his position. He’s a king, in service to a tyrant, and he’s never going to let anyone in. He’s just... cold... the whole way through. PIDW Mobei-Jun has an icy throne and nothing else.

PINTWILF (and SVSSS) Mobei-Jun has the Airplane version of Shang Qinghua. When Airplane saved MBJ’s life, the System wasn’t making him do it, he made that choice for himself. The System was willing to let MBJ die (and, in my headcanon, be replaced by some ice demon cousin or LGJ). So, MBJ turns around and chooses Shang Qinghua for himself.

Shang Qinghua was like, “No! This character can’t be replaced! You can’t just dress someone else up as Mobei-Jun! You can’t just let the character die! It has to be this man in that role! No one else!”

When Mobei-Jun is coming to talk to Shang Qinghua in this fic, in this moment, he is making this choice for himself, the nameless man who has been promised a position he might not live to see. That’s what the Weeper’s Eye is getting at. If Shang Qinghua doesn’t want to hear the promises Mobei-Jun is will to make him, there might as well not be anything in Mobei-Jun’s future to make him an individual, more than a cold figure acting out a part.

“...Shang Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says finally. “I will not hurt you.”

Shang Qinghua’s gaze snaps from the crystal eye in his hand, back to the demon lord standing by the exit to this secret basement.

“We will speak,” Mobei-Jun says solemnly, slowly, like someone repeating the lines of a script. “I wish to be understood by you. I have not known how. Yet I must try now… in my own words… and you must listen.”

Shang Qinghua swallows.

The anger - the frustration - breaking through at the end there sounds more like the man he knows. He’s pretty sure that’s meant to be a request, but it sounds like an order.

AN: After their last conversation, Mobei-Jun had a lot of soul-searching to do, and one of the conclusions he came to is that he can’t take anything for granted. He has to made explicitly clear, using words, which is apparently what matters with humans and with this human in particular, everything he feels. He can’t take the risk of continuing to hurt Shang Qinghua by letting the man think that he doesn’t regret hurting him or may hurt him again someday.

He puts the Weeper’s Eye down.

He’s really sick of this thing. He doesn't want to carry it around all the time.

It only tells him things he knows, anyway.

AN: We’ll get into the Weeper’s Eye in future chapters, but it’s... it’s not really a mind-reading device. It kind of is. It is a little bit. But part of the reason it’s so informative here is that Shang Qinghua is holding it and Shang Qinghua actually knows a lot about his characters and the people in his life.

Even the original characters, like Fanli, he knows well. She’s his family. He’s privy to Fanli’s problems through Jiahui and Liu Qingge if nothing else.

With Shen Yuan, he doesn’t know the kid well yet, but his fellow transmigrator isn’t that difficult to read and he’s been where Shen Yuan is.

Shang Qinghua putting the Weeper’s Eye down here is a show of trust of sorts. It’s a way of telling himself to get out of his own head, away from character roles and exaggerated panic, and put himself in the moment with someone he knows and... well... trusts and wants to trust even more.

Shang Qinghua follows Mobei-Jun out of the basement, removing the spiritual seal from the wall, which makes the creepy basement entrance disappear, then replacing the flower that covered it. He hesitantly follows the demon lord back to the main room of his Leisure House. He has no idea how to stand, suddenly, or where to stand.

Mobei-Jun looks very determined.

“So, ah, should we… sit?”

“No,” Mobei-Jun replies, then abruptly says, “Shang Qinghua, you do not have to fear me. I do not wish to cause you any pain. Now or in the future.”

Shang Qinghua stares, wide-eyed.

That’s not… something he ever expected to hear explicitly.

Good! It's good, though! Very good.

It's great, really.

“...Thank you,” he says, stunned. “I don’t want to cause you pain either?”

“You have shown as much. Many times.”

This is probably not the time for an “Yes, I did tell you so” in any form!

Instead, trying to remember all the speeches he prepared while waiting, Shang Qinghua says, “You have too! In your own way! I just… my king, last time you visited was a… it was a very bad day for me. I apologize for my behavior! I was speaking from a place of-”

“Fear,” Mobei-Jun interrupts darkly. “Well-deserved.”

“Ah, well…”

“You believed that I would hurt you, in your state,” Mobei-Jun says.

“I was… it was very a bad and confused state, my king.”

“...You do not trust me.”

Shang Qinghua’s voice dries up on him. He wouldn’t put it that way, exactly! That sounds pretty terrible when said in such a blunt way. They’ve moved past that, haven’t they? It’s more that he trusts different people with different things! He trusts Luo Jiahui to be Luo Jiahui, and Liu Qingge to be Liu Qingge, and Mobei-Jun… to be Mobei-Jun.

AN: Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun got really far without explicitly talking about things, but at some point that stopped cutting it.

“I have hurt you before,” Mobei-Jun says, looking at him directly. “From a place of fear… of anger… of… misunderstanding. I am… sorry for this. I will not do so again. I was wrong to treat you in such a way.”

Shang Qinghua takes in a deep breath… and out again.

Fuck, it feels like his eyes are burning.

“You have my respect,” Mobei-Jun says quietly, urgently, not letting up on getting all of these words out into the open. “You have my regard. You have my trust. Yet I have not shown this in a way that you have understood, so you could not share this. I have demanded your loyalty without being deserving of it.”

“My king,” Shang Qinghua protests, taking a step forward. “I was- I should have said-”

“You did. Many times. In many ways. I did not understand.”

“I wasn’t very clear either-”

“It was my responsibility to be clear. I must be clear now.”

“You’re being very clear now,” Shang Qinghua agrees quickly. If things get any clearer here, if any more of the things they’ve left unspoken get said, his heart won’t be able to take it. “Thank you, my king. It means- thank you."

Mobei-Jun nods. He looks relieved.

AN: I wanted to write a version of Moshang that felt... a little more mature? Shang Qinghua has developed a lot in this fic. He has grown as a person. And Mobei-Jun has seen this growth over the years.

Mobei-Jun has also been able to see into this Shang Qinghua in a way that wasn’t available in SVSSS canon. I think that SVSSS Shang Qinghua was locked the fuck down. I think he was almost completely inaccessible and offered very, very few openings for connection.

But in this universe, Mobei-Jun actually knows a lot more about Shang Qinghua. He knows what motivates Shang Qinghua. He knows that Shang Qinghua is a doting uncle and a doting older brother. He knows that Shang Qinghua has come to care for his sect. He knows that Shang Qinghua is intelligent and resourceful and funny. They drink together and talk politics! Mobei-Jun knows that Shang Qinghua is loyal and tired and trustworthy.

So... there was an opening here that didn’t exist in SVSSS canon.

And Mobei-Jun took it.

Shang Qinghua knows that cultural differences are a hell of a thing here, but everything being understandable in hindsight didn't make it not fucking hurt. It still hurts, even finally having the apology he never thought he'd get.

"...We’ve been pretty bad at understanding each other, huh?”

“It has often seemed as though we were not meant to meet,” the demon lord says softly.

Shang Qinghua, who can't imagine getting through his transmigration experience without meeting this man, thinks over all the unknowing irony in that statement.

"...Maybe."

“The differences are… significant.”

Shang Qinghua laughs, almost disbelieving. “That’s a word for it!”

"But not impassable."

"Ah… I… hope not."

AN: I’ll probably make a separate post for this, but I love Moshang transmigrator reveals. Bingqiu transmigrator reveals are mostly about the Abyss, which is great, because that needs clearing up. MOSHANG transmigrator reveals are like, “My weak human husband is a god???”

Also love it when MBJ is like, “Yes, this makes sense.”

“I have never known what you have wanted from me,” Mobei-Jun says next, like a confession. “Your life, you have said, time and time again. Though I am only alive by your grace. You demand none of what you deserve of me.”

“...I don’t think ‘deserve’ is a good word for this,” Shang Qinghua says, which probably isn’t the right thing to say, but he’s really too stunned to come up with anything better. He really didn’t prepare for the right conversation here. “Aha, sorry, my king. It’s just… I don’t think I like to think about it in terms of ‘owing’ anymore. Between us. At least… not like some sort of strict balance? I do something nice for you, you owe me. You do something bad to me, I get to hurt you. Not… not like that.”

Mobei-Jun thinks about it.

“Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m saying-”

“You are deserving of better than what I have given you,” Mobei-Jun insists, determinedly. “I do not understand you. I have never understood you.”

Shang Qinghua feels the same way.

“But I would like to,” Mobei-Jun says next. “I would if you would allow it.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is only alive because Shang Qinghua saved him and he knows it! And Shang Qinghua has never made the demands he should have made, having that kind of leverage over Mobei-Jun!

I’ve always wondered if this is deeply romantic by demon standards. Like, not inherently romantic. But I would bet that Mobei-Jun really likes the idea of a relationship where no one is keeping score... no one is granting favors to use like a leash of obligation... no one owes the other things they don’t want to give. I would bet that Mobei-Jun really, really likes the idea of a relationship where affection is freely given because the people in it want to give it.

He does feel as though he owes Shang Qinghua, but I think Mobei-Jun likes the idea that his favor is his to give just because he wants to give it.

Mobei-Jun lifts a hand, slowly, and holds it out.

Shang Qinghua thinks about it.

He thinks about it again.

He reaches back and puts his hand in Mobei-Jun’s own, which is as cool to the touch as always, and moves over his skin carefully. His hold is so light that Shang Qinghua could break it without any issue at all.

They stay there, like that, looking at each other.

Looking at their hands, holding without hurting, after everything. It's such a small gesture.

It feels kind of like a miracle.

AN: I am... a huge fucking sucker for Mobei-Jun holding Shang Qinghua waaaaay too lightly because he won’t risk hurting Shang Qinghua again. Like, this man is going to take it from the top. No more assumptions.

“What do you want, Shang Qinghua?” Mobei-Jun says, voice turning up at the end, in the closest thing that the man might ever come to helplessness. “What do you want from this?”

“I…” Shang Qinghua wipes at his burning eyes with his free hand. This is kind of pitiful. “Fuck.”

Mobei-Jun lifts his free hand and uses his own sleeve to wipe at Shang Qinghua’s tears, like his robes aren’t important to him at all. “Ask,” the man says, in the tone of a promise. “You do not have to fear the future. Anything I have to give is yours.”

Shang Qinghua gives up on trying to speak and just moves forward to bury his face in Mobei-Jun’s chest. Fuck it. The demon lord who was supposed to kill his character lets him do it. Mobei-Jun holds on to him, arms heavy but still so careful, the man’s chest moving in a sigh that sounds like relief.

This really was too many unspoken things to finally say aloud all at once.

AN: So, yeah! That’s what I’m been building up to with the Jiahui/Qingge marriage and the Qijiu fights and makeup, getting Shang Qinghua to think about what he wants from his relationship with Mobei-Jun. Luo Jiahui and Shen Qingqiu have basically been throwing the question at him repeatedly: “What do you want from this life, Shang Qinghua?”

Because it can’t all be plot! You’ve taken your family for yourself, but you can have more than that! You’ve made so many choices already... you can take this last step and make this choice too. Let Mobei-Jun in.

A lot of Moshang plots end up being “Shang Qinghua’s inability to communicate versus Mobei-Jun’s inability to communicate”. Which is great! That’s Moshang! And some external issue (a rival demon lord, Linguang-Jun, etc.) will end up being the secondary plot which acts as a scenario pusher for the primary plot of the Moshang relationship. Again, great stuff!

But since the romance isn’t the focus of this fic, I decided it would be fun to have a more “Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun versus the problem” take. (Which also shows up in lots of Moshang fics! Definitely not exclusive to this fic at all!) I’m looking forward to having Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun actually try and tackle problems together, as a couple, inside the main “Family of Choice” plot.

Which isn’t to say that Moshang have totally worked out their relationship here. They have only just gotten together. Mobei-Jun still has issues. Shang Qinghua still has many issues. They’ve got a lot to work out together. They’ve never been in a relationship like this before and there’s a lot of people out there who would object to their relationship! Their relationship is going to continue to grow as the fic continues. They’re going to have a few bumps in the road.

But I really like the idea of Mobei-Jun being Shang Qinghua’s rock in this fic. This man has been so stressed. He needs a hug from his ice demon boyfriend who can soothe headaches with a hand.

When Shang Qinghua feels like he has himself more under control, he draws back just far enough to say, “My king, will you kiss me?”

Mobei-Jun’s expression is already soft, at least by his standards. His gaze turns hooded before he leans down as Shang Qinghua leans up. Shang Qinghua takes the man’s face between his hands to kiss him. It feels nice, if uncertain, with the hunger of something a long time coming at the end of it. There's years worth of wanting in this.

It has been so fucking long since Shang Qinghua kissed anyone.

He breaks the kiss and has to stifle laughter, clinging to the front of Mobei-Jun’s robes, which the man never closes properly, so now Shang Qinghua is never going to be able to not thinking about touching it. It’s a very nice chest to touch. He knew it would be.

Mobei-Jun’s brow furrows slightly, his hands staying on Shang Qinghua’s hips.

“What?”

Ah, sorry! Sorry, my king! It’s just- this is such a ridiculous detail to get stuck on, but your lips are kind of cold? I’ve, ah, I’ve always kind of wondered,” Shang Qinghua confesses quietly, without really meaning to actually say it. Holy shit, he’s going to blame saying something like this after that on the fact that he’s had a very long and very weird day. “Sorry. I'm really tired. It's fine. It's good.”

Mobei-Jun snorts and kisses him again, as if to say, “Deal with it.”

AN: Cute! Mobei-Jun likes it when Shang Qinghua laughs. I stand by this.

#tossawary svsss #tossawary commentary #pride is not the word #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua

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ashbrea381writings · 3 years

Text

Flying Blind: Chapter 2, Meeting the Bats

“Bunnyx? Should I be concerned?” Ladybug asked, turning to look at the person behind her. Bunnyx was obviously a good five or so years older than the rest of the team, and Batman would have shrugged it off if it weren’t for the next words from Bunnyx’s mouth.

“Nah, I wanted to be at this meeting since current me wasn’t.” Bunnyx pulled up a chair and flipped it backwards to sit on it that way. “To explain, Batman, I can’t tell them too much or the timeline would become unstable, and that really isn’t good. I help where I can and where they are going astray from the correct timeline.”

“Who is to say the correct timeline?” Robin asked. “Couldn’t you nudge it into a more favorable outcome?”

“Not without disappearing. Back to the Future style.” Bunnyx commented bitterly. “Been there, almost disappeared, it sucked. But I can tell you this, LB, it’s okay to trust them with the info you’ve got so far. They’re very helpful.”

“Thanks Bunnyx. Sticking around?” Ladybug asked, handing them a plate with some pastries.

“For the best pastries in Paris for free? Yes, for sure.” Bunnyx started laughing as they took the plate and took a few steps back. “I’m probably gonna let you all strategize without me though, I just wanted to hear the convo I missed the first time ‘round.”

“Oh please, you know they would feed every one of you guys for free if you asked. Unless you’ve had a falling out in the future I don’t currently know about?” Ladybug teased, loosening up more than she had so far.

“Nah, but at the point I’m at, I’m trying not to drain them, you have no idea how much time travel makes you hungry.” Bunnyx chuckled. “Besides, with the rest of these guys stopping by constantly, I’m surprised they even manage to make any money.”

Ladybug shook her head but didn’t comment, turning back to Batman and sighing. “We also have a friend who cannot always help out in battle for civilian reasons. That is Tempest, who has the ability to transform into three different forms; lightning, air, and water.”

“And you’re all about the same age?” Batman asked, his frown deepening.

“More or less, within about a year and a half from oldest to youngest.” Chat confirmed as Ladybug nodded. “We try not to advertise our real ages for both identity reasons, and to try and control just how many people don’t want us doing this due to our ages.”

“And you have no mentor? No Adult to pull you out if things get rough?” Batman’s voice was incredulous, and he sat up even straighter in his seat.

“Unless you count Bunnyx who jumps back from the future now and then to check in.” Chat joked, poking said hero in the ribs.

“Watch it, Kitty-Cat, I can and will send my younger self something embarrassing about you.” Bunnyx slapped his hand away, but sounded bored.

“Who gave you your powers then? You said before that you got your abilities from items?” Robin asked, leaning forward and bracing his arms on the table.

“Like I said, he gave up his memories to protect more of the artifacts.” Ladybug sighed, “The items in question are individually called the Miraculous. There is a box that I have custody of that usually holds them. I won’t say how many there are. Right now I’m letting each person here use one, Chat and I were picked by the former Guardian. When Hawkmoth found out the identity of the former Guardian, he attempted to find out our identities too and wanted to steal the box for himself.” Ladybug stood and began to pace slightly in the little room there was. “During the battle, Chat and I were able to retrieve the contents, and the former Guardian transferred his title to me. The magic of the Miraculous wiped his memories to keep the secrets of the Miraculous from ever being taken from him.”

“So not only are you a superhero as a teenager, but you guard a set of ancient artifacts that each hold incredible power?!” Batman stood abruptly. “If there is some sort of title involved, who gave that title to your mentor?”

“People who are a combination of long gone or not welcome here due to antiquated ways.” Ladybug snapped harshly. “Do not presume to know what is going on with us. Age does not mean wisdom, just that you assume you know what is best for other people.”

Batman took a step back and sighed. “I am angry on your behalf that you were put under this amount of pressure.” He took a moment to calm himself and shook his head. “Am I correct to assume that Hawkmoth is of a similar age to me?”

Ladybug studied Batman for a few moments, sharing glances with a few of the other teammates who all made some sort of gesture or facial expression that they understood among themselves. “Roughly, yes, we cannot be precise but I would judge you and him to be within 3 or so years of each other.”

“What other information do you have? We might be able to help figure him out.”

“It will be difficult, the magic of the Miraculous makes it difficult to pinpoint an identity, and tends to make you want to drop the search. Although, there are some exceptions. Rena figured Carapace out after meeting him in the mask twice.” Ladybug pointed out. At that comment, Rena chuckled and elbowed a blushing Carapace.

“Not fair, LB, you know why it was that easy for her to figure me out.” Carapace muttered, pulling his hood lower over his face.

“My point is, maybe someone with an outside perspective would be able to push past it.” Ladybug shook her head at her friends. “Here, this has everything we’ve observed about Hawkmoth, and information that will help you to identify him more easily. Some of that information covers Miraculous holders in general from our own observations about ourselves. Don’t look into our identities with this, just Hawkmoth.”

“What kind of information?” Batman asked, taking the flash drive.

“How much of a height difference we have when we transform, how much things like hair and eye color change, Chat is an exception for the eyes part.” Chat gave a bow as Ladybug said his name. “It also has Hawkmoth’s approximate measurements from what I’ve been able to figure out the few times we’ve seen him in person. He’s a very tall, slender man.”

Batman handed the flash drive to Robin, who plugged it into a screen on his glove, asking quietly, “Hmmm, how accurate are these measurements and how did you get them?”

“I’m good at sizing people, there’s a civilian reason for it that I won’t name. I could probably give you yours if you wanted.” Ladybug chuckled.

“She’s nearly dead-on, actually, I’ve seen it in action.” Chat added, smirking. “Like that time she figured out who was who at a costume party.”

“That was one time and it was a bet, King Monkey should have known better than to challenge me, he’s known me for years.” Ladybug sniffed. “Besides, it was a good team-building exercise for me to identify you guys in the crowd while you switched costumes.”

“Team building exercise?” Batman seemed unconvinced.

“We’d only just decided that we all needed to know who each other were. So we went to a big costume party with several quick change outfits and tried to identify each other so we’d always know who was who even if we switched Miraculi.” Ladybug explained.

“You all know each other as civilians?” Robin asked, looking shocked.

“After what happened with the former Guardian, I was rather… Stressed and didn’t have a way to tell anyone why it was so bad, so I confided in Rena, and she basically told me that it was time we all knew each other. She’d known Carapace from the start and he found out about her shortly after, so it was something that just made sense. We coordinate better now and know what’s going on in each other’s lives and can adjust for it.” Ladybug shrugged. “We know if one of us is sick, or busy, or can’t get away from civilian life long enough to handle Akuma’s now. We’re more coordinated in our plans and can cover for each other both as heroes and civilians.”

“Do your families know you’re all doing this?” Batman asked quietly, seeming to think about the situation.

“One of us has parents that know, I won’t say who.” Ladybug crossed her arms and stared the Bat down.

“And what do they think?”

Chat chucked, “They’ve basically adopted everyone who wasn’t their kid already and told everyone to stop by anytime. They also keep an eye on the news and give excuses for the one that’s their kid to make sure they get to be at Akuma fights when they’re needed for it.”

“They also offered to patch us up if there’s ever an injury that the Cure doesn’t fix. We haven’t run into that problem yet though.” Honey Bee added, making a gesture like she would start touching up her manicure before being stopped short by her gloves. “By the way, Bug, you need to teach us how to adjust our suits manually, you said there was a way.”

“That’s an entire Saturday on it’s own, Bee, save it for the next girl’s day.” Ladybug waved her off casually. “Now, I’m sure you guys have what you need to start the investigation with you?”

“Yes, we’ll keep you posted.” Batman held out a comm unit to Ladybug. “The batteries last three days, if it takes longer than that I can meet you here to switch out. It’s also undetectable while you’re wearing it and muting it and turning it on and off is intuitive.”

“MmmmHmmm, I’m willing to bet it’s also a tracker. Pegasus, take a look?” She passed the device to said hero and he plugged it into a small tablet he pulled out of a pocket.

“There is the ability for it to track movements, but that was disabled before I even touched it.” Pegasus handed it and Ladybug tucked it into her ear, testing the settings a bit before leaving it muted but on.

“I know how important secret identities are, the tracker is only in there because it’s the same type as what Robin uses and I’d rather not have him injured somewhere and not be able to get ahold of him.”

“I still don’t like the tracker either, B.” Robin muttered, causing the Miraculous holders to chuckle.

“We can track each other when we’re suited up.” Ladybug swept a hand around the group. “It’s useful to know when each other is on the way or where someone is when you need to meet up.”

“Anyway, we all have places to be, so we’ll check in once and a while through LB to see how it’s going.” Chat said, cleaning off the table and tucking the dishes back into the baskets they came from. “Bee, here’s yours, I think you’ll be missed sooner.” He passed one off the Honeybee who promptly zipped away on her top, waving as she passed over the building. “LB, delicious as always, I need to convince them to teach me their ways.” He sighed, handing Ladybug a basket.

“Don’t be shy, if you ask I’m sure they’d show you. They don’t have anyone willing to take over when they retire, and it might be good for you to have a job like a normal person.” She laughed, taking the larger basket and setting it on the ground before wiping down the table with a cloth she’d pulled out.

“Don’t think I won’t… Next time I’m home alone for the weekend, I’m there.” He laughed and collapsed the table after she wiped it. One by one, the other Miraculous holders put away the chairs and helped Chat wrangle the table into it’s storage shed.

“How often do you guys do this?” Robin asked, watching as the other heroes took off in separate directions.

“As often as we have the time and can get away from our civilian lives. Since we all know each other, it isn’t as hard as it was.” Ladybug shrugged, ruffling Chat’s hair.

“We keep it to a reasonable amount of time and not everyone is always able to make it, but it’s always a nice way to get in some bonding time with the team.” Chat added, pushing Ladybug’s hand off of him. “We’re basically family to each other at this point, so we don’t see a reason why we shouldn’t spend time together. I gotta run, it’s almost time for my next thing.” He sighed and launched himself up with his stick, waving at them and running across the rooftops.

“We’ll be in contact, and I’ll be listening on the comm.” Ladybug pointed to her ear where the device was invisible to any who didn’t know it was there.

With that, the rest of the remaining heroes left, leaving Batman and Robin in a closed-off alley with a beautiful garden and a small shed. “Want me to check what else is in the shed?” Robin asked after making sure his comm was muted.

“No, there was nowhere to hide anything, it’s only big enough for the stuff that’s in there and they left it open the whole time we were talking.” Batman sighed and looked at the sky that was going pink with dusk. “Let’s get to the hotel.”

#mgi trope tussle #maribat #dickinette #dc #miraculous fanworks #soulmate

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maydaymadier · 3 years

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Time

[Disclaimer: I’m currently slightly more than halfway through the c2 finale and I’m going to try and avoid spoilers since well, there’s still like 3hrs of content to get spoiled on. Will likely crosspost to my ao3]

“Time, it takes time, not days or weeks or years. Time.”

Caleb Widogast was right, though to be precise it takes 100 consecutive days of inscribing a teleportation circle in the same place to make it permanent. Nicodranas was the first teleportation circle Essek Thelyss finished. 100 days of pounding sun and coastal heat felt fitting to start his time. He had his trepidations about better acquainting himself with Yussa, less so with Ms. Lavorre. The Nein asked why he needed to make a teleportation circle in Nicodranas, they already had access to Tidepeak Tower’s. ‘Yes, however, we will not have to give anyone advance notice to use our own.’

Jester made something of a habit of bringing him a new parasol or sunhat each time she visited, even brought him tinted glasses she found once. If he knew she was coming he’d make sure to wear one of them.

Each time he ran out of chalk he’d wrap himself in illusion and teleport himself to Zadash. Meanwhile, the stores in his towers grew dust-laden, his absence from the Dynasty more suspicious, and he bought his chalk from Enchanter Sol. The Mighty Nein were a family, regardless of any distance, and he had the means to make distance mean nothing. So Essek Thelyss carried on. And on the hundredth day, he stepped into a circle in Nicodranas and stepped out in the Blooming Grove.

He was invited in for tea, as expected, and accepted as was polite. The next day he found the spot behind the temple where the grass had been flattened by the circle delivering him and started his next hundred days. He ‘compensated’ for his intrusion with his floating meditative guard each night. Caduceus seemed to pick up on what he was doing faster than Jester had, by a thin margin. The remaining Clay children would poke their noses in once and a while, curious about their drow visitor they’d only met briefly before but they remembered him helping garden after Ikithon set the temple ablaze. They would offer him a plate at meals, he insisted on using his own rations in a strange dance of hospitality and being a polite guest.

At one point, after finishing the day’s circle he considered venturing through the Savalirwood to Glory Run Road, find Mollymauk’s grave. But it felt disrespectful to Kingsley somehow in a way he couldn’t articulate. If he were to be more dramatic it felt like an invasion of privacy to the rest of the Nein as a whole, intruding on a moment on a place where they were unknowing adversaries. So he kept inscribing circles in the grass and sometimes he found fresh chalk in his component pouch. On occasion, Caduceus found saplings and cuttings of Xorhasian plants on his windowsill.

On the hundredth day he stepped into the circle in the Blooming Grove and came out under Caduceus’s tree in the Xorhaus. He was far more careful with this one. The Xorhaus was sparsely used, bordering on abandoned at this point, more than ready for the Nein to inhabit it once again. Beauregard, oft accompanied by Yasha, used it the most for when they visited Rosohna on Cobalt Soul business. The Bright Queen had been more than amenable to working with the Soul once she knew they were dismantling the organization that had stolen the beacons.

Though it took three days before Beau realized he was working on making a circle on the roof, pruning away his extra time by trying to tame the garden, clad in his rose-patterned gardening gloves, what with his lackluster previous experience. She offered to go bring him chalk from his towers, anything else he might need that he’d left behind when he was posted in Eiselcross. He accepted the offer, to eschew suspicion, asking for some simple components that filled any wizard’s pouch. Sooner than later, soon enough Beau couldn’t knock the truth out of him (not that she needed to do that or would, he was growing increasingly susceptible to disappointed stares from his friends) he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out in Rexxentrum.

His skin crawled and felt like it would slough off with each passing day. He wasn’t so bold at this point to attempt and make a circle on Soltryce’s grounds but he did take pleasure in chipping away the next hundred days in the courtyard of Trent Ikithon’s now abandoned tower. It was a joy, absolutely cathartic tearing apart what little remained hidden away of the bastard’s stores. The most valuable and precious artifacts and components were hidden in ways only an archmage would even know about or know how to unlock. Malicious clumsiness might have gotten him to break an important, now inert, magical tool or two as he rummaged through the tower for chalk.

Though one day, he noticed an owl perched in a tree, watch him for an hour, disappear for a few minutes, reappear, so on and so forth for the whole day. He had a good idea who the owl was but she never watched him again after that. If she wanted to know what he was doing here, fine. It wasn’t like either could rat out the other without drawing unwanted attention to them both. So on the hundredth day, what little remained of Trent Ikithon’s personal study even more thoroughly destroyed, he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out.

Essek chipped away at the for now final circle under the watchful light of Pelor. Passively, the part of him that absorbed every ounce of knowledge, regardless if he cared or not, wondered what the connection may be between whatever the Luxon is and the Dawnfather. Just a fun little thought experiment to occupy him while he worked through the next hundred days.

By the end of Brussendar, with Highsummer fast approaching, he’d decided that he ought to have brought at least one of Jester’s hats. Though more importantly he’d decided that the thought was silly and any connection between the two deities must be entirely aesthetic. Nothing he didn’t already know but what else can a wizard do but overthink?

It wasn’t the same level of festivities he’d heard about with Harvest’s Close but Highsummer seemed to be the close second in Blumenthal. He sat, disguised in the shade of an oak probably as old as he was and simply watched from afar. Somewhere in the crowd, he saw a flash of copper. Tried not to think to much of it. Red hair seemed slightly more common in this corner of the empire. He caught the sweeping arc of a long, striped scarf being tossed over a shoulder. A leather coat dusting at the ground (though he had looked so good in purple).

Caleb Widogast stepped out of the crowd and sat under the oak with him, “I suppose a criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.” “I suppose I have,” Essek stared at his feet. Caleb offered him some sort of sweet roll wrapped in paper, “I was not talking about you.” He ignored the comment, “How long has it been? Since we last spoke.” “Four hundred and eighty-six days. About a year and a half to be informal,” he just set down the roll next to his hand when he didn’t move to take it. “I keep thinking one day it will have been enough time.” “Looking for the specific number will drive you mad. Are you just going to keep making circles across Wildemount until you feel that you’ve atoned?” Essek took the roll but only held it, “I know that I cannot make up for everything. What are you doing here, anyways?” “I have been trying to convince myself to visit. Maybe try to pay my respects if I can stomach it. The others had already told me what you were doing, but Astrid told me where you were going. Figured now was good a time as any,” his expression darkened, the reality beyond the afterglow of a hard-won victory whispering into both their ears. “I-,” Essek started. “Did you know I was from here before you picked it or did you just want to taunt Rexxentrum by hiding in their breadbasket for a while?” Caleb stared him down. “I knew.” “Alright then.” “I hope I have not intruded in some way by coming here.” “I suppose we were both curious about the echo. It’s right up your alley, prodigious dunamancer and whatnot,” Caleb glanced back up at the revelers before turning his attention back to him “I would not discount your own skill, you’ve picked up dunamancy quite quickly and with a level of skill I have rarely seen.” Maybe they can just talk about magic. “Danke.” There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.

“When do you think-?” Essek tried asking. “I don’t. I will not pretend to know when enough time will have passed for the past not to hurt us anymore, Essek. And counting it in teleportation circles will not make it go any faster,” he said, though with the crushing sadness to his eyes of a man who wished he were wrong. “I am trying to make it easier for us to see each other,” he said with easy authority. “It is much easier to see each other when we don’t run off to the four corners,” Caleb added on with a tired chuckle. “What are you implying?” Something caught between excitement and unease hit him. “I can stay. Help you finish the circle here, we can leave, make another. As many circles as we want. We can have the continent at our fingertips. Maybe even go back to what remains of Aeor in Eiselcross. Devexian couldn’t have been the only mechanical inhabitant. For all we know there is a city of automatons underneath the ice now,” Caleb got more excited and dreamy as he went on, the unbridled excitement of a mage faced with knowledge. “That sounds...nice...,” Essek trailed off, trying to sound as neutral as he could manage. “Do you want that, Essek?”

It felt like the word was tearing its way out of him, “Yes.”

#my post #critical role #mighty nein #cr fic #cr fanfic #essek thelyss #shadowgast #just a sprinkling of shadowgast there at the end #post-canon #Essek is Coping

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artyblogs · 3 years

Text

Best Wingman Ever

Read on Ao3

Summary: For @caruliaweek. Prompt: Surprise. After the fight in the pyramid, Julia doesn’t feel so hot, so she checks into a hospital. Carmen finds out and has concerns, so she goes to see her.

---

The longer the press conference goes on, the more discomfort Julia feels. It started in the pyramid, after Countess Cleo pushed her into that godforsaken pit, and she managed to catch the edge with her elbows. Her legs swung under her and something in her torso tore. Or broke. It certainly seemed like something snapped judging by the searing pain that lanced through her chest.

She was able to ignore the pain for the rest of the time they were in the pyramid, half because of the adrenaline coursing through her system, half because…well, it seemed pittance in the face of certain death. But now, in front of all these reporters, with the adrenaline draining from her body, the ache grows and grows until she sweats under her collar from the exertion of standing upright.

Every breath Julia takes is fire.

Either the reporters don’t notice what is happening, or they attribute Julia’s flush to the strong Egyptian sun, because they don’t ask what is wrong. They ask her if she will be heading the effort to catalogue all of these artifacts (she won’t be; all this treasure is technically on Egyptian soil, so it is up to the Egyptian government to come up with a plan), or if she will be working with Egyptologists and other archaeologists to catalogue them (again, that’s technically the jurisdiction of the Egyptian government. If invited, she’d help, but she needs to be invited).

Eventually, they have enough information for their segments, and Julia and Chase end the press conference and slink off towards the parking lot. Julia waits until they are out of earshot of the reporters, and far away enough to be indiscernible by the cameras, before she runs a cautious hand over her ribs.

It doesn’t seem like anything’s broken, but a simple swipe of her palm induces agony. Julia sinks to her knees.

“Miss Argent? What’s wrong?” Chase kneels next to her, his hands hovering, but not descending. He’s probably afraid of making things worse.

It feels like her chest is imploding. Julia tries to catch her breath, but cannot get any words out. Chase takes out his cell phone and dials a number.

“‘Allo? Please send an ambulance, there is an injured woman who needs help.”

---

Julia had hoped that she would be able to tough it out until she got back to the UK because at least there, she would have all of her identification. Here in this private hospital in Cairo, she has nothing. Besides the press conference and Chase, no one knows that she is here. The fact that a whole person could be disappeared like that, that she could be misplaced, is disquieting.

The walls of the hospital room muffle the car horns and loud voices in the street. If Julia closes her eyes, she can imagine that she is slowly sinking into sand, like so many forgotten baubles in the desert.

CLICK.

The door to her hospital room opens to reveal Chase, who carries a grease-stained paper bag and a cardboard drink tray with two paper cups.

“Miss Argent?”

“Agent Devineaux!” Julia tosses the thin, hospital blanket aside and—very, very carefully—sits up and unfolds her legs over the side of the hospital bed. In the back of her left hand there is taped an IV line, and she lightly pushes the IV rack a little to make room for him.

Chase gently closes the door behind him, then he takes the back of a visitor’s chair and drags it to her bedside. He places the tray of drinks on the side table next to a prescription bag, and holds out the greasy paper bag for Julia to open up.

Julia delves into it and finds two shawarma wraps carefully bundled in foil. “Which one is mine?”

“They are the same.”

Julia takes one of the wraps and opens it up, the foil shredding between her hands, and bites into it. The shawarma is a mess of sliced lamb and garlic and spices. Still hot. Smothered in yogurt and lemon juice. She had a similar shawarma years ago when she first visited Egypt during a field archaeology class, and she has been searching for a comparable place ever since.

Nothing has even come close. Julia licks a stray drop of yogurt from her thumb and takes another bite.

“They didn’t feed you, did they?”

Are her table manners that bad? Julia hesitates, then slowly shakes her head to agree. Chase frowns and unwraps his own shawarma. They eat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the muted noon adhan ring out across the city. Eventually, the food is done, and they crumple the foil into balls and toss them into the paper bag, and Chase holds out one of the drinks to Julia.

“Where is the medicine?” He asks.

“On the table. Can you get it?”

Chase opens the prescription bag and blanches. “Miss Argent, this is…eh….”

“It’s just one of each.” Julia chews on the straw and holds out her hand. “Do you mind?”

Thus begins an absurd process: Chase takes out a pill bottle, twists it open, and shakes a pill into Julia’s hand. Julia claps it into her mouth and takes a swig of water while Chase recaps the bottle and sets it aside on the side table.

They do this five times.

At last, Chase sets the empty bag next to the bottles and stares at the display ruefully. “Miss Argent?”

“Hmm?”

“What did they do to you?” He’s unusually subdued.

Julia’s ribs twinge. “I am an ancient historian, and VILE needed to decode ancient languages.”

Chase’s frown deepens. “I have taken similar pills for what I assume are similar kinds of injuries, Miss Argent. Please.”

“They were not nice people,” Julia finally says. She doesn’t…she cannot describe what happened, because to do so would require her to travel there in her mind.

“Miss Argent,” Chase says, now truly alarmed. It’s funny, in a way. A year ago, he would have probably given anything to shut her up and today, he can’t get her to say anything.

“I can describe what they looked like,” Julia says. She can do that, at least. Chase reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out his cell phone, which he unlocks and gives to her.

The screen is cracked. Julia gingerly taps and swipes to navigate to a specific face-generating app, and uses sliding scales to change the different attributes.

“How are you getting back to Oxford?” Chase asks.

“There’s a British embassy down the street; I’ll go there first thing tomorrow,’ Julia says.

“Not today?”

“The doctor wants to keep me here overnight for observation.”

Another pause. Chase’s nose wrinkles as he scowls.

“It’ll keep, Agent Devineaux.” Julia takes a screenshot and refreshes the app to create another face.

Chase makes a noise as he sinks in his chair. “I shall go with you to the embassy tomorrow.”

Julia looks up. “Really?”

“You should not be alone. We do not know where VILE escaped to. They could still be here in Egypt.”

Julia is legitimately moved. She didn’t think it was possible for him to act this way. “Thank you, Agent.”

“Pas de problème.” Chase stares moodily out the window, so Julia returns to the app.

The minutes pass, but somehow it’s not as bad as before. Julia is in the middle of creating the last face when the screen blacks out for a call. She hands the phone back to Chase.

“Zari is calling you.”

“Eh?” Chase looks quizzically down at the phone, then takes the call. “‘Allo? Ah, Agent Zari. I will not be back for another forty-eight hours at least. What?” He pauses to listen. “Wait, now? But Miss Argent needs a security detail!” Chase tries to say more, but the voice on the other end rises in volume. Eventually, Chase’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Yes, yes, I’ll be on the next flight.” The call ends.

He turns to her and he might look as miserable as Julia feels. “Miss Argent, I, er.”

“Duty calls.” She says despite the sinking feeling in her gut. “You have three of the four faces at least. I’ll go to the embassy tomorrow, and you’ll visit me in Oxford when this is all over.”

“But VILE.”

“Aside from you, no one knows…no one knows I’m here. That anonymity will shield me.”

Chase’s jaw clenches, and he nods. “Until then, Miss Argent.”

“Goodbye, Agent Devineaux.”

He turns and leaves the hospital room.

---

Carmen does one more sweep of the hotel room before she zips her duffle for the final time. She doesn’t usually pack a lot on capers, but it pays to be vigilant.

“How is Jules getting back to the UK? Is Devineaux arranging that for her?”

Player absently hums as he types. “Oh yeah. She wouldn’t have any passport or anything, huh? Because she was kidnapped?”

“I want to make sure she isn’t stranded in Egypt.”

“I’ll take a look. And I could whip something up for her if Devineaux doesn’t have anything in place. How does sharing a plane with your favorite Oxford professor sound to you?”

“Ha ha.” Carmen throws a phone charger into the duffel and zips it closed. “Being close to Jules might not be such a good idea. VILE kidnapped her because of me.”

“VILE knows and now ACME knows too. You might as well go for broke, Red.”

“Go for broke doing what, exactly?” Carmen asks. “Don’t say, ‘Jules.’”

Player laughs. “I’m trying to be a good wingman here!”

“Jules has students, and bills, and maybe even a cat, or something. She has a life outside of all of this and I ruined that when I went to see her.”

“How dare you say that to me when I heard what she said when you guys talked in her office. What was it she called you? One of her ‘two key interests?’”

The sheer audacity. “Player.”

“Carmen.” But Player gasps and whispers a curse.

“What is it?”

“Uh.” More typing. “Julia isn’t going anywhere. She’s—uh. She’s checked into a hospital.”

All the hair whooshes out of Carmen’s lungs. When she last saw Julia, she was awake. She was responsive. She was standing unaided. She was…she was in VILE’s custody for at least twenty-four hours at that point, that’s what she was. Julia walking around in the pyramid this morning? Seemingly bright-eyed and bushy tailed? That doesn’t mean a thing if she’s in the hospital now.

BEEP. Carmen’s phone receives notifications as Player pushes an update to it. Address, map, and a plane ticket for the rescheduled flight back to Seattle. She pulls the duffle strap over her head and strides out of the hotel room.

---

In case of emergency, Player allegedly has a list of hospitals that he will trust with the safety of Team Red. Allegedly, because Carmen’s never seen Player’s desktop. When he tells her that Julia’s been admitted to one of those hospitals, it does little to ease the raging unease within her. Carmen gently opens the door to the hospital room and peers inside.

The blinds are drawn against the afternoon sun. A privacy screen is pulled halfway across the room, obscuring the single bed in the room. There is no television monitor, and instead a oscillating fan sweeps back and forth on low.

Carmen steps into the room and softly closes the door behind her. She lowers her duffel to the floor and creeps closer. While she didn’t see any local police, or any police-looking types staking out this hospital, and while she didn’t see any VILE operatives either, it helps to be cautious. When she peeks around the curtain, however, she only sees Julia.

Her glasses and suit jacket are gone, and a hospital blanket has been drawn up to her chest, but it is her. Carmen steps around the curtain to her, and she holds a hand a little ways from her mouth.

There’s a soft breath against her palm, and Carmen almost cries in relief.

“Red? Did you find her?” Player asks.

“She’s asleep,” Carmen whispers.

“Ah.” And Player falls silent.

She’s also alone. There are no guards, or orderlies, or nurses. Devineaux is nowhere to be found. If VILE found out that Julia was here, there would be nothing to stop them from taking her again. Carmen sinks down into the visitor’s chair.

Let them come. She will be enough to stop them.

Julia seems smaller in sleep. Her brow is smoothed free of complex thought, and her lips are slightly parted. A sunbeam falls across her face, highlighting the freckles dusting her cheeks. Julia’s dark hair is disheveled from the pillow, and her front fringe falls over her eyes. Carmen makes as it to smooth it away, but falters and instead, she pinches the hinges of Julia’s glasses and delicately lifts them from her face. She folds them, and starts looking for the rest of Julia’s things.

She finds pill bottles instead, lined up like soldiers at the back of the side table.

“Player?”

“Yeah?”

“When you found Jules’ file, it was bad, wasn’t it?” Carmen whispers.

“I didn’t look very long, because I didn’t want to snoop, but from what I did see? It wasn’t good.” He leans back from the mic and shouts something, then when he returns, he says, “I gotta go eat breakfast. Will you be okay for a minute?”

“Yeah. Go.” Carmen continues searching. She finds the rest of Julia’s things in a drawer in the side table. At the bottom are Julia’s shoes, over which is her suit jacket—carefully folded—and over that is her pendant. Carmen puts the glasses down beside the pendant and closes the drawer.

Julia wakes with a start. She gives a weak cry, and her feet kick out against the blanket. When she settles back down, she also puts a hand over her eyes.

“Jules?”

“Carmen?” Julia’s voice comes out strained and broken. Her hand cannot hide the furrow of her brow, nor can it hide the stuttering gasps she takes in a poor attempt to calm down.

“Surprise,” Carmen whispers. She holds her hand, the one with the IV line stuck into it, and Julia holds on tight. So tight that it might break her fingers and some dark part of Carmen thinks that she might deserve it. But it doesn’t last. Eventually, Julia’s breathing evens out, and her body relaxes against the bed, and her grip loosens, but she doesn’t let go. Julia drops her other hand to reveal red eyes.

She clears her throat. “How did you find me?”

It is so casual that it throws Carmen off. Are they really not going to discuss Julia’s state from not even a minute ago? But Julia looks at her expectantly, so she says, “Player found you. I was worried.”

“Thank you. I didn’t think….” Julia’s face screws up. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t. Jules, I am so sorry. VILE was never supposed to get a hold of you.”

“I’m not sorry,” Julia whispers. She winces as she eases up on the bed, and Carmen wants to help her, but doesn’t know how. Julia manages to sit upright anyway.

“You needed help. Was I supposed to say ’no?’” Julia asks. She even manages a half smile. “This was not your fault,” she says as she gestures to herself.

“They kidnapped you because of me.”

“Absurd. I mean, yes, they did. But that still wasn’t your fault. You might as well rage against an earthquake for bringing down a building, or at lightning for striking a tower. Criminal syndicates kidnap people; that’s just what they do. If not me, then it would have been some other poor sod.”

“Jules.”

“I mean it, Carmen. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

When Julia says it like that, Carmen might be able to believe it. “How bad is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The bridge of Julia’s nose wrinkles, so Carmen asks instead, “What happened?”

“I said ‘no.’ The taller woman—they called her ‘Countess Cleo’—she said that she would only ask for my services once. So I said ’no.’” Her brows furrow again and she bows her head, casting shadows on her face. “Those two men, Vlad and Boris, they were very persuasive. And I tried, I really, really tried. But I couldn’t.” Julia trails off and when she looks up again, her eyes are glassy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

The idea that Julia should ever think of herself deficient in any way, that she could be convinced that that was the case, is so painful that Carmen’s heart could break. It is also equally vexing, because it is clearly untrue. The boldest lies that Carmen has ever heard.

“How could you apologize for being so brave?” Carmen asks.

“I’m supposed to be a former secret agent.”

“And? I don’t care about some arbitrary threshold of toughness. I’m just glad that you’re alive.”

Julia smiles and stares down at their clasped hands. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Not that I’m in a rush, but the longer you’re here, the more dangerous it is for you. When are you getting discharged?”

“Next morning at the earliest. The doctors want to keep me overnight for observation.”

“So it’s that bad.”

“Carmen….”

But Carmen gestures to the pill bottles. “Jules. Come on. How bad is it?”

Julia sighs. “Hairline fractures in my fibs, and some minor internal bleeding.”

She mumbles this last part, but Carmen catches it anyway. Cold horror washes through her body. “Internal bleeding?”

“Minor internal bleeding. Carmen, don’t feel bad, or we’ll be going in circles all day.”

On the contrary. Carmen’s horror ignites into hot, unbridled rage, and she leaps out of her chair and starts pacing up and down the tiny room.

“Carmen?”

“They are never touching you again. Never again.” Carmen pauses just long enough to say before she continues to pace. Julia face softens a bit.

The door creaks open, and Carmen whirls around and grabs an extra chair. It’s one of those mass-produced plastic and wire things, light enough to throw across the room if needed. Julia too, falls silent.

But an orderly pokes their head in. “Visiting hours are over,” they says in Arabic. “Miss Santa Rosa, you must leave now.”

“No, no, she can stay,” someone else says from behind him. It sounds like the nurse who was manning the reception desk. “She’s her fiance. It’s in the file.”

“Eh? Okay.” The orderly turns back to them. “Have a good night.”

The door closes again.

The chair slips from Carmen’s nerveless fingers. On the bed, Julia turns away, her face and ears a brilliant red.

“You understood that,” Carmen says. It isn’t a question.

Julia, unable to speak, nods her head.

“Player, did you do that?” Carmen asks. Her earrings crackle to life.

“Do what?”

“The fiance thing.”

He chuckles. Actually chuckles. “Best wingman ever.”

Oh no. Carmen is going to die. She is going to shrivel up from mortification. What must Julia think? At the very least, she must think that Carmen’s such a creep.

“Do you want me to change it back?”

“You’ve done enough.”

Player chuckles again, this time with a darker tone. “So that’s a ‘no.’”

“Goodnight, Player.” And with that, Carmen taps her earring to mute.

“You can leave if you need to. You must be terribly busy,” Julia says.

“Never too busy for you,” Carmen says, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she can think too much about it. Julia flushes all over again.

---

Julia gasps awake, the ache in her ribs stealing her breath. Her left hand is clasped tight in Carmen’s, a lifeline tethering her to this this plane of existence.

She fell asleep.

They were talking. About anything and everything. One of those meandering conversations that are pointless, yet profound. Carmen is endlessly fascinating, of course. Julia couldn’t help but hang on her every word. When it was her turn to share, she tried her best to be as interesting, but she couldn’t help but feel so incredibly mundane. Carmen’s rapt attention must have been a facade done out of politeness, because there is no way that she could be just as interested in Julia. Carmen was just being kind.

They were just talking, and then the meds took over and she fell asleep.

“I’m right here, Jules.” Carmen’s worried face swims into focus and the bed dips as she sits next to her. The room is dark, save for a single nightlight plugged into a nearby outlet.

“Was it a nightmare?” Carmen asks.

“The pain from my ribs must be tricking my mind. Every time I go to sleep, I go right back to that safe house,” Julia whispers.

“What about a distraction?” Carmen asks. “If you felt something else, would that help?”

They both look at their hands. They’re still holding onto each other, with Carmen’s thumb gently pressing against Julia’s pale knuckle.

“It does seem to help,” Julia says. Somehow, realigning herself with reality is easier with Carmen around. Carmen’s brow furrows in thought, then she nods, as if making a decision.

“Okay, scoot.”

It takes Julia a moment to understand what Carmen means to do, and when she finally does figure it out, she briefly considers saying ‘no’ before the thought is immediately smothered without mercy. Perhaps it’s because Julia almost died this morning, or perhaps it’s because of the heady cocktail of medications currently running through her system. At any rate, Julia doesn’t say ’no.’

She scoots.

It takes a little maneuvering—Julia’s IV line has enough slack, but they don’t want to pinch it shut—and they take care to not jab elbows and knees, and the bed is already so narrow, but they manage it in the end. They end up facing each other, with Julia’s head cradled between Carmen’s arms, and their legs tangled together. Julia’s fingers curl in the belt of Carmen’s romper.

Carmen runs hot. The heat of her arm thrums against Julia’s ear. Her gray eyes are also very close. The distance between them is so negligible that if Julia were to move just a couple inches forward….

Well.

“Go to sleep,” Carmen whispers, her breath ghosting against Julia’s face. “I’ll be here.”

Julia closes her eyes and goes to sleep.

---

“Red.”

Carmen’s earrings turn on, and Player’s voice cuts through the still night.

“Red, wake up.”

Julia is still asleep. Carmen’s arm is getting a little numb, but hell, Julia can have it. She rolls away a little, not enough to disturb Julia, but just enough so that she can talk to Player without speaking directly into her face.

“What time is it?” She whispers.

“About one AM your time.” Player also lowers his voice to match hers, even though he’s a little speaker in her ear. “The Seattle base got torched.”

“What?”

“VILE destroyed it. They burned everything. And then in Oxford, another team torched Julia’s apartment and blew up her car. They blew it up, Red!”

Beside her, Julia stirs. “Wusrong?” She slurs.

Carmen’s heart sinks. “I’m so sorry, Jules.”

“This again? We talked about this, Carmen.” Julia’s sleepy expression melts away when Carmen doesn’t answer.

Carmen gently removes her arm from under Julia’s head, then maneuvers so that she doesn’t crush her, but she’s able to brace herself over her and align her head over hers so that she can also hear.

“Player? Explain.”

He explains. Julia tenses beneath her, and her hands tighten in Carmen’s clothes the longer he goes on.

“VILE must have wanted to retaliate, but when they couldn’t find either of you, they did the next best thing,” Player says.

“Phone,” Carmen says. She rolls off the bed and goes to her duffel bag. She takes out her phone and swipes across the screen to answer Player’s call. He appears on the screen, and she tosses the phone onto the foot of the bed. Julia sits up and leans over the phone.

“Player?”

It must be early evening where Player is, but it’s always difficult to discern anything with how dark his room is. He must have blackout curtains or something.

“I’ve got Carmen’s plane ticket sorted out, and I was gonna get you on a plane to Oxford, Julia, but I’m not sure I should do that anymore.”

Carmen slips on her shoes and ties the laces. “Put us on the same plane.”

“What?” Player asks.

“You were right about VILE and ACME. Jules isn’t safe as a civilian anymore, so she’s coming with me.” Finished, Carmen stands up and regards Julia, who has her hands over her eyes again.

“Jules?”

“Jay?” Player asks, slightly muffled from the hospital blanket.

“I placed my students’ papers on the coffee table. They were just there in bundles, because I meant to grade them. And there were plant clippings on the windowsill…I was growing them in jam jars.” Julia’s hand moves to cover her mouth, and she stares into the distance. “Gone.”

Player looks down at his keyboard. Carmen’s heart sinks in her chest. She did this. Julia lost everything because of her. Because she asked for her help, and this is how she’s rewarded.

“I’ve only lived in Oxford for half a year, but that flat was mine, and I….” But Julia stops and turns to the side table. She pulls open the drawer and there, nestled in the folds of her suit jacket, is her pendant. It glitters in the low light, and she lifts it out, the chain draping between her fingers.

“I was wrong,” Julia whispers. She slips her glasses back on and she stares very hard at the pendant.

“Jules?”

“Everything I need is right here. Everything else is replaceable.”

Player’s jaw drops, and he and Carmen share a look. “Just like that?”

“Sometimes it really is that simple. Don’t mistake me; it will be awful to replace everything when the time comes, but the fact is that they can be replaced. And I have insurance. My class will be fine. My students will be fine.” Julia unclasps the chain and tries—and fails—to put it on. She looks up at Carmen. “Do you mind?”

Carmen takes the ends of the chain and carefully clips it around Julia’s neck. Her fingertips graze her nape as she pulls away, and Julia catches her wrist.

“I won’t be put in a safe house. If I’m coming, I’ll be useful,” Julia whispers.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Carmen says. Julia smiles up at her.

“Plane’ll be ready in an hour,” Player says. The call ends, and Carmen slips the phone into her pocket.

“Then we shouldn’t waste time.” Carmen unhooks Julia from the IV and helps her shrug on her jacket. Julia slips her shoes on, and after picking up the duffle and the meds, the both of them vanish into the night.

Show it some love on Ao3!

#caruliaweek #carmen sandiego #julia argent #carulia #julethief #carjules #carmen x julia #my writing #fanfiction

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summonerscenarios · 3 years

Note

[1] OKAY anon talking about Mc running off before they find out they're innocent. Okay Mc just wanted to cool down so they skip class and leave campus for the day for self care. BUT THEN they get caught up in app conflict bs like they do when game events happen bc its mc. Maybe helping out the outlaws or somethin- Mc sends the summoner group chat the fyi, that they'll be back. But three days later and the teachers are fucking panicking bc of the situation and they don't know shit AND now the-

OKAY ONCE AGAIN I’M GOING A LIL OFF ON THIS BECAUSE THIS IDEA IS JUST 👌👌👌👌👌 so as you can probably tell in some parts I definitely rambled lmao. I do hope I do it justice~!

And for anyone wondering the original request can be found here!

---------------------

Things had gotten too much. You were so fed up with all the stares, all the sympathetic glances burning holes into the back of your head and all of the whispered words of gossip and speculation like you were some hot topic or reckless wild child who couldn’t be trusted. Everyone was acting like you couldn’t see or hear them, which somehow just made it feel even worse; it was driving you up the wall, even with all of your friends standing by your side the moment you were accused it was hard to ignore everything that came with it. You were pissed, hurt, but the betrayal stung the worst out of everything that had happened so far - you’d put your complete trust in your teachers, looking up to them oh so confident that they’d believe and protect you should the need ever arise, because you genuinely believed that they saw the best in you, even in spite of your faults and encounter track record. You guess that just wasn’t the case though, as that encounter in the staff room still makes you feel sick to your stomach, thinking about the way those same teachers you trusted looked at you with pity and still deemed you guilty of something you so viciously denied.

They still look at you with pity - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn don’t even try to hide it, maybe not even realizing that you’re looking at their expressions when they’d tried to start up a conversation with you. It frustrates you, because it feels like they have no right to pity you when they were the ones there in that meeting and they didn’t try to vouch for you. They didn’t even listen when you told them you were innocent! Surely they have enough faith in you to believe in you, right?!...right? Whatever the case the whole situation has you dreading coming into school everyday, and as the days pass you’re more and more convinced that things would be better if you could just get out of going at all - there’s plenty of other things you could be doing where you wouldn’t have eyes watching your every move, nor the weight that comes with them.

You don’t know if it’s luck or sheer irony that the teacher responsible for picking you up from class is late one day, but it’s the final nail in the coffin before you decide ‘fuck it, I’m out of here’ and skip class. For the past few days you’d felt pinned, suffocated with eyes constantly on you from the moment you step onto school grounds to the moment you’re out of sight, which makes it oddly freeing to be able to run around without those disapproving gazes - but you don’t want to waste time and risk getting caught, not when you’re so close to skipping and being free for at least a single day. Consequences be damned, you don’t care anymore. Even though everything is still weighing heavy on your mind stepping out of the grounds feels...liberating, and you only dare a glance back once you’re out of the school gates, catching sight of students still in their classroom completely oblivious that you’ve disappeared from their ranks. Telling the teachers where you were going was the last thing on your mind, but you at least have the foresight to send a message to the Summoner’s group chat before you turn off your phone and bolt from the premises, letting them know that you were going out for a day to clear your head.

It was only supposed to be that one day, you swear, but things have never really had a penchant for going your way. If you had stayed just a few hours longer you’d have learned about the person clearing your name; you’d have seen the teachers’ mad dash through the school when they’d realized you weren’t in any of your classes; you’d have watched the outroar as the Summoner’s learned of the truth in your stead. But you’d missed it all, and spent the day wandering anywhere and everywhere instead - wherever you could go where you wouldn’t risk running into any faculty you went, stewing in thoughts and trying to forget just about everything that had happened for as long as you could before you were inevitably brought back to the school.

Only that didn’t happen; you were able to crash at a friend’s house on the first night, called in a favor with a nearby guild for a place to sleep on the second night, and the hours in between were spent either wandering or getting dragged into fights - how ironic that even now you couldn’t avoid getting involved in other people’s problems even if you tried - it was seriously getting old. In the meantime, the Summoners are the only ones who get word about what’s happening, but even then you keep it vague so that you don’t worry them, not to mention you don’t want them to needlessly lie if they get questioned by the teachers concerning your whereabouts. Which is exactly what happens; the teachers are all worrying themselves sick by the time the third day rolls around without hide or hair of you, and it’s clear that there’s regrets voer what had transpired over the whole week. Jinn’s rolling your last encounter over and over in his head, wondering if there was something that he could have said that would have made you decide to stay put - maybe letting you know you had someone on your side - but the what-ifs won’t change the fact that you left. Triton’s still cursing how long it took for the news of your innocence to come to life, the thought of how you must have felt being looked at with such suspicion making guilt crawl up his spine and settle in his mind. And Mononobe doesn’t stop looking for you for a second - even if you scream at him or scold him or ignore him completely he needs to see that you’re okay and doesn’t want your last conversation with him being left on such bad terms. One thing is for certain though; they need to find you, and soon.

Things finally come to a head on the third day. Usually during after school hours you’d try to make yourself scarce in the area, but this time you weren’t so lucky. All too quickly you’re dragged into a spat with someone itching to boost their ego with an app battle, and though it was clear they’re all bark and no bite it’s tedious and you want it over with quickly. You just wish it was that simple, as the moment you ready your sacred artifact, watching your opponents prep to set up a battle zone, two figures block your view, standing almost protectively in front of you as they activate their respective sacred artifacts. You don’t even have to see them to recognize them - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn are both loud as they declare their presence, stepping into the fight in your stead. Before this week you would have laughed seeing the two of them standing side by side talking big about protecting you; but now? You feel your heart sink into your stomach - this could not have been the worse time to see them.

Mercifully, the battle staves off the inevitable conversation for a little while longer, as the three of you have to focus back on the fight at hand; your teachers are skilled, or at least driven by something to end the battle, and you aren’t willing to play around just to avoid what comes next, so it isn’t long before the person who challenged you and his friends to all back off, releasing the battle zone as they flee back into the crowds to nurse their mental wounds. You almost want to disappear into those crowds with them before you can get caught again, however the moment you turn you’re immediately accosted by Jinn and Triton, the two teachers fighting over each other to get the most concerned word in - where have you been? Why did you run away? Are you hurt?! Their concern is sincere, you can tell as much from their faces since hiding their emotions isn’t exactly their strong suit. And right over their shoulders you can see Mr. Mononobe too as he approaches to join the three of you, having not been involved in the battle zone for obvious reasons; but the sight of all three of them in the same place reminds you so much of that day you’d been accused and the emotions burn in your throat like poison.

There’s venom laced in your tone as you ask them why they stepped in, effectively silencing the two teachers as they share a brief glance and answer simultaneously. Hearing them talk about teachers protecting their students you have to bite your tongue because surely they know how hypocritical that sounds, right? But they keep talking, rambling on about making sure you’re safe and protecting you when you need it and it’s like a trigger, sending everything frothing to the surface. You laugh, bitter and sarcastic before asking if they’re serious - they've gotta be kidding - but you don’t even give them a chance to respond before your words claw their way out into the open and you just about lose it.

You don’t care about mincing your words as you practically bare your soul, everything that’s been welling up finally boiling over. You yell and scream and shout until your voice is hoarse because you’re so pissed that they have the audacity to talk about protecting you when they couldn’t even protect you from those accusations, from all those people thinking you destroyed something just because you could. They have no fucking right to even consider themselves your protectors when they looked at you with those same eyes full of pity, now turned to guilt in light of the truth that had come far too late, and you’re gonna make damn well that they know that you aren’t someone to be pitied - you’re vindicated, seething, and feeling so betrayed by the few adults that you were so sure that you could trust. But that trust was shattered - and that’s exactly why you left, because why would you want to be surrounded by people who couldn’t trust you?!

The emotion behind your voice is raw, and Jinn, Triton and even Mononobe seem to be at a loss for words - no words of reassurance, no advice, no words of wisdom - and that just twisted the knife in deeper when you’re met with no resistance whatsoever. You honestly don’t know what you expected - some kind of fight or rebuttal would justify these feelings that you have - but when you receive nothing of the sort in response you lose the wind in your sails and you choke on your shouts. Your words fail you, turning into sputtering and sharp gasps when you finally buckle and sink to your knees, wiping uselessly at your face as your eyes burn with the sting of tears - a feeling you’ve gotten so familiar with this past week it makes you loathe the feeling. If you could you’d still be yelling, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it - you’re tired, whittled down to your bare bones and you don’t even have the energy to be angry or care that you’re having what you’re pretty sure is a breakdown that wasn’t in the safety of your dorm room. You want to just curl up and disappear - just for a few days, that would be okay, right? Just until you can feel something in your chest that didn’t hurt like hell. The Summoners would understand, you think, they always did - they’d trusted you at least, when it felt like most didn’t. Why could they have been the ones to swoop in and help you? It’s a silly thought, but you feel like you at least wouldn’t be bawling like you are now if it had been them instead of the teachers; you can just imagine how they must be watching you cry in front of them.

Damn, this whole thing really was just a mess....

A hand touches your arm and another touches your back - you’d kick away if you could, but it’s like the touch saps you of all of your energy. Those hands have no right to be so warm, no right to feel so comforting, and yet they are and you want to cry all over again. You have no idea which teacher is the one who helps you to your feet as all three surround you with growing concern once your sobs filter off into broken sniffles, gaze torn between screwing shut to avoid looking at any of their faces and staring right at them so they can see all the emotions in your eyes that your words have failed to convey. When they talk about bringing you somewhere safe, back to the dorms or to the school to discuss everything that had happened, you’re in the right mind to run away all over again, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Instead, you allow those hands on your back and shoulder and arm to guide your steps, ignoring the concern and grave expressions that the teachers share as the reality of what’s just transpired sets in. You don’t know what’s coming next, but you honestly don’t think you care anymore - all you can think about is how tired you are of everything, and this was apparently the last straw that you could handle.

#mechanicaltrickster #housamo #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #headcanons #imagines #tokyo afterschool summoners #mr triton #triton #housamo triton #mr jinn #jinn #housamo jinn #mr mononobe #kyouma mononobe #kyoma mononobe #housamo mononobe #request #ask

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sevens-evan · 3 years

Note

11. catradora?

partners in crime au....fun

Adora hadn’t really intended to end up here.

She’s always had a strong moral compass, a sense of right and wrong. Nobody is quite sure where she got it—certainly not from her upbringing—but it’s always been loud, firm, and impossible to ignore. She has a very hard time not doing what she thinks is right, and while her sense of justice and what’s considered legal sometimes (often) conflict, following her instincts has generally allowed her to navigate life without making anyone exceptionally angry at her.

The problem is that taking care of her friends is very close to the top of the list of Adora’s priorities, and her best friend since childhood has decided to pull cons for a living. Adora’s moral convictions aren’t bothered by stealing a few million from some of the worst people on Earth, so she, like an idiot, had decided to tag along. One thing led to another, and now...

“Adora,” Catra’s voice crackles through Adora’s earpiece. “Where the hell are you?”

“On my way,” Adora pants out. She glances over her shoulder, pales slightly at the sight of at least half of the gala’s security team chasing her, and tries to run even faster. She’s fighting her expensive suit and immensely uncomfortable dress shoes with every step, but she manages a burst of speed, whipping around a corner just as gunfire explodes from the security team behind her, slamming into the walls and floor where she had been moments earlier.

Adora spies a glowing exit sign above a door and dives for it, spilling out of the building and squinting against the bright sunlight. She searches the street, slowing her sprint to a brisk walk as she looks around desperately. She’s already drawing stares, the crowd on the sidewalk giving her a wide berth, but Adora ignores them. The space is useful, actually; it makes it easier to look for...

There. Adora darts forward the moment she sees the motorcycle idling by the curb, a familiar figure sitting comfortably astride it. She throws a leg over the seat and wraps her arms around Catra’s midsection, barely catching her balance before Catra is pulling away from the curb and into traffic.

“What happened back there?” Adora says into Catra’s ear, just loud enough to be heard over the bike’s engine. “I thought we were just scamming them at cards! There’s no way they caught me cheating!” She’s good at cheating at poker, damn it—definitely good enough that a bunch of rich idiots looking for kicks at a mildly illegal gambling event couldn’t catch her.

“No,” Catra says. She whips the bike around a corner, and Adora holds on tighter instinctively, digging her fingertips into Catra’s abs through her dress shirt. Catra had disguised herself as one of the wait staff, so she’s less formally dressed than Adora, but she looks good enough that Adora had to sit down upon first seeing her earlier that afternoon. “They didn’t catch you. It was my fault. I got excited.”

“Excited?” Adora repeats, disbelieving. Last time Catra had gotten excited they’d ended up anonymously donating several dozen long-lost artifacts to museums in various countries.

“Can we talk about it later?” Catra says. “Like, when we’re not trying to escape the people trying to kill us?” Adora relents, because they really do have bigger problems right now. She can hear sirens in the distance.

It takes them nearly an hour and three vehicle switches to lose the cops entirely. When they finally do wander back into their hotel room, Adora is about ready to pass out—but first, she really wants to know what Catra is hiding in the briefcase she’s carrying, which she had definitely not had when they left for the gala.

“So,” Adora says, sitting down on the edge of one of the hotel beds. “You got excited.” Catra grins at her, a little bloodthirsty, and Adora’s heart flops over in her chest.

“Take a look,” Catra says, handing her the briefcase. Adora pops the latch, shooting Catra a long, curious look before she lifts the lid.

“Oh my fucking God,” Adora says. In her peripheral vision, she can see Catra’s grin widen, but she’s a little preoccupied with the dozens of sparkling gemstones sitting in the case.

“Those,” Catra says, sitting down in the armchair next to the bed, “used to belong to some European monarch or something. I didn’t really listen to the history spiel, I don’t know. The guy who stole them was going to make bank off somebody who cared about all that at the auction later today. But I don’t care about the history, so I say we just sell them.”

“Catra, this is, like—” Adora hesitantly reaches into the case. The stones are nestled in packing foam, and her heart drops as she lifts it up at the corner and realizes that there’s a second layer of stones just beneath the first. “This is so much money.”

“Exactly,” Catra says. “I figure we sell them and we go on a fucking incredible vacation.” Adora shakes her head, speechless.

“I...okay,” she says. She can’t really argue with that plan.

“Good.” Catra stands up and reaches out, like she’s going to take the briefcase back, but instead, she just pushes the lid closed. The motion brings her to stand directly in front of Adora, their knees brushing, and Adora looks up, her mouth suddenly dry. Catra is smiling down at her. “I have a lot of places I wanna take you,” she says, voice low. Adora just nods like an idiot, wondering if Catra is finally going to kiss her. They��ve been dancing around this since—well, kind of forever, but especially since they started working together.

Catra doesn’t kiss her. She steps back, turns away, says, “I’m gonna take a shower,” over her shoulder and disappears into the bathroom. Adora falls backwards into the bed. Her heart pounds, but it isn’t from the adrenaline still in her body from being shot at, or the—at least—hundred million dollars’ worth of gemstones in her alp. It’s all from Catra.

#catradora #catra #adora #spop #my fics #fic: catradora #this was fun!#it's very inspired by a charah conman au i read a long time ago #i should reread that fic it's so good #anon #answered

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imnotusedtobeingloved · 3 years

Text

SIFU HOTMAN

(PLEASE DON’T REPOST/REBLOG)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Katara, Aang, Toph, Sokka.

Requested: I guess?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part six of “destiny is a funny thing”.

previous part

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s a late chistmas present hehe. Have fun reading!

“Who is down there?”

The three of you gasped as the Sun Warrior Chief came into sight. You were surprised, and positively relieved about the tribes appearance, but even more about the fact that you got rid of the slime that clung to your skin. It was removed by aardvark sloths on either side of you, while men and women formed circles around you. The Chief soon stepped closer. ”For trying to take our sunstone, you must be severely punished!”

Great, you thought. Just great.

”We didn’t come here to take your sunstone,” You explained, giving Zuko a dirty look, who pouted briefly. “We came here to find the ancient origin of all firebending,”

“Yeah, right. They are obviously thieves,” Ham Ghao said, walking forward, holding onto the artifact. “Here to steal Sun Warrior treasures,”

“Please, I don’t normally play this card, but ...,” Aang placed a hand on his chest. ”I’m the Avatar,” He gave Ham Ghao a weak smile, as he shifted his puzzled expression towards the Chief.

“Just hear us out,” Zuko said, standing up and offering his hand to you. You grabbed it, letting him pull you up, before helping Aang to his feet. ”This is (Y/N), a talented fire bender supporting the Avatar’s journey,” He gestured towards you. “And my name is Zuko, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation,” He lowered his gaze to the ground, reconsidering. A sight you didn’t want to feel sorry for, and yet it bothered you. ”O-or at least I used to be,” The tribe seemed to listen to him, standing still and silent in their positions. It was a large group of people. And all of their attention was on you. ”I know my people have distorted the ways of firebending, to be fueled by anger and rage. But now I want to learn the true way. The original way. When we came here, I never imagined the Sun Warrior’s civilization was secretly alive. I am truly humbled to be in your presence,” You all proceeded to bow your head to them. “Please, teach us,”

“If you wish to learn the ways of the Sun, you must learn them from the masters, Ran and Shaw,” The Chief answered, his stern eyes never leaving your little group. “Ran and Shaw?” Aang asked. “There are two of them?”

“When you present yourself to them, they will examine you,” The Chief came near, speaking loud and clear. “They’ll read your hearts, your souls, and your ancestry,” He closed in an towered over Zuko, who looked more than worried by now. ”If they deem you worthy, they’ll teach you. If they don’t, you’ll be destroyed on the spot,” You watched as he retreated, seeing the last of him until the next day.

And tomorrow came quickly. Much quicker than you would’ve liked.

You weren’t that keen on dying, but now the Sun Warriors sat in multiple arcs inside the room, before the Eternal Flame. The only ones standing were you, and the Chief himself.

“If you’re going to see the masters,” He said. “You must bring them a piece of the Eternal Flame,” His hands were raised over his head as he turned around to face you. “This fire is the very first one. It was given to man by the dragons. We have kept it going for thousands of years,”

”I don’t believe it,” Zuko breathed, eyes widened.

”You will each take a piece of it to the masters, to show your commitment to the sacred art of firebending,” The Chief continued to enforce, but the more he said, the more unsure Aang seemed to grow. “Umm, Mister Sun Chief Sir‌, yeah, I’m not a firebender yet,” He mumbled, rubbing his neck, before pointing to Zuko. “Couldn’t my friend here carry my fire for me?“

But the Sun Warrior Chief was unyielding. “No,” He turned back to face the fire, not paying any further attention to Aangs uneasy expression. He took a part of the Eternal Flame into his hand, turning back to you. “This ritual illustrates the essence of Sun Warrior philosophy,” He declared, slowly spinning in a circle and splitting the fire in his palms into three parts. Aang stared, entranced by the light, but cringing at his next words. “You must maintain a constant heat. The flame will go out if you make it too small. Make it too big, and you might lose control,”

You were the first to recieve the fire. Feeling the warm comfort of it in your palm was like coming home. Like you’d lost and found yourself again. A unconcious smile spread out on your face, looking down at the dancing element in your hand. Zuko brought his arms forward next, ready to take the flame, as the Chief offered Aang the same. ”I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous,” He stuttered, but took it. You saw his face get washed over by relief when it didn’t vanish into thin air. “It’s like a little heartbeat,”

The Chief nodded. “Fire is life,” A little smile spread out on the Avatar’s face. “Not just destruction. You will take your flames up there,” He pointed the top of a large mountain. “The cave of the masters is beneath that rock,”

And so you did. The climb was exhausting, having to constantly check on your flame, and fueling it just right.

The adventure lead you through a steep forest, before changing to a surface. You and Zuko had already reached the top of it, turning back to Aang who was lagging behind. ”Hurry up,”

“I can’t,” The Avatar complained, approaching the rock. “If I walk too fast, my flame will go out,” He climbed up, balancing his fire in the other hand. “Your flame’s gonna go out because it’s too small. You’re too timid, give it more juice,” The air bender tried to overcome the next obstacle, wanting to catch up with his friends. ”But what if I can’t control it?”

The two of them argued, while you were lost in your own thoughts. Heartbreak was a funny thing. Your gaze remained on the prince as he concentrated on motivating the Avatar. It was a relief to not feel anger anymore, any time you looked at him. But there was still one aspect that kept you away, and you weren’t sure if you could ever overcome it. The disappointment. Every time you felt like taking a step forward, it made you recoil. Made you step back. It sat in the back of your head, lurking, only coming out whenever he was near.

“You can do it. I know you can,” His voice brought you back into reality. Zuko didn’t ignore Aangs insecurities this time. “You’re a talented kid,” The boy smiled at the compliment, finally reaching the top and following the fire benders to the top of the mountain, where the Sun Warriors were already waiting. Among them was the Chief, framed by Ham Ghao and another male. Behind them the mountain still reached high, showing a bridge in between two vertical rocks.

“Facing the judgment of the firebending masters will be very dangerous for you. Your ancestors are directly responsible for the dragons’ disappearance. The masters might not be so happy to see you,” The Chief said walking closer. “I know I wouldn’t be,” Ham Ghao made clear, placing a hand on his hip with a grin.

“But once they find out I’m the Avatar ...,” The Chief interrupted Aang, correncting him sternly. ”Have you forgotten that you vanished, allowing the Fire Nation to wreak havoc on the world‌?” A guilty look returned to the boys face. One you’d seen far too often since you’d know him. “The decline of the dragons is your burden, too,” Aang turned to the side, as if he couldn’t bear to hear about his failure once more.

The Chief proceeded to root his staff on the ground, while the other two Warriors got into a kneeling position. He then walked towards you, taking a small potion of your flames and handing them over to the group. Warriors stood and sat creating a circle of fire on either side of you, prompting the Avatar to grow restless. “We could turn back now. We’ve already learned more about fire than we’d hoped,” He showed you his flame with a weak smile.

“No, we’re seeing this through to the end. We’re gonna meet these masters and find out what’s so great about them,” The air bender looked towards the rocks. ”What if they judge us, and attack us” You gave him a reassuring smile. “I think we’ll have to take the risk, Aang,”

”(Y/N)’s right. We can’t turn our backs on this now, besides,” He unsheated his swords slghtly, to underline his words. “I think we could take these guys in a fight, whoever they are,” Aang nodded nervously, despite Zuko’s sedative smile, while the Warriors finished their circles. The fire bender turned towards the Chief, and raised his voice. “Bring ’em out!”

The man stretched his hands out on both sides in response. “Chanters!” Music started playing. Multiple drums, beating in a synchronized rhythm to be more specific. It almost looked like the Warriors were dancing with the flames. The Chief stepped aside to let you pass, the path to the stairs now free.

The three of you looked at each other before taking a deep breath and climbing the steps. You could feel the stares of the tribe in your back, as you neared the bridge at the top. The setting sun warmed your skin as you reached the top, painting the sky crimson, and the drums were silenced. You spotted caves on either side of you.

“Those who wish to meet the masters, Ran and Shaw, will now present their fire,” A Sun Warrior announced from below. Your heart thumped faster and faster in your chest as you all stretched your hands towards the caves. ”Sound the call!” Some man blew a horn, sending a flock of birds scattering. The insides of the rocks seemed to be rumbling. Beside you, you could feel Aang trembling.

”What’s happening‌?”

The next thing you heard was a gasp, but you tried to ignore it, fully concentrating on your task. “Zuko, my fire went out,” A whisper sounded behind you, making your blood run cold. “What do you want me to do‌?”

“Give me some of yours,” A fight seemed to brew behind you, upon hearing the prince decline. “No, just make your own,” Hushed whispers continued to be shared behind your back.

”I can’t,”

“Get some from those warriors, Hurry!” But the struggle continued. “Stop cheating off me!”

“Quit being stingy!”

“Would you two cool it already!” You hissed, eventually having enough of their bickering. But they were clearly too caught up in their fight. Aang repeadiately tried to reach Zuko’s flame, who raised his hand up in the air. But the Avatars attempts continued, leading the prince to stretch his arms away.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” You growled. “Quit it!”

You managed to pull them apart just as Aang pushed Zuko’s hand down, extinguishing the flame. They both look at each other, before their eyes landed on you. To your horror, you’d lost your own flame, trying to drag them apart. Suddenly the ground rumbled. You turned to look at each other, wearing worried expressions on your faces.

“Uh oh,” Aang mumbled, when two eyes began to glow in each cave.

Dragons.

They shot forward, roaring, and circling around the bridge. You took a step back, staring at their snake-like bodies, covered in scales and with bat-like wings. “These are the masters,” Zuko stated, to which Aang answered in a low voice. “Still think we can take ’em?”

“Sshh. I never said that.”

“You’re such a liar,” You laughed incredulously, watching the masters circle around you. Down below you could see the Warriors bow to them.

"Guys, I think we’re supposed to do the Dragon Dance with them,” Aang whispered next to you. “What‌?” You wipped around to him. The prince seemed just as confused as you. “What about this situation makes you think they want us to dance‌?” The boy shrugged. “Well, I think they want us to do something. Let’s just try it,” Zuko had never seemed more unwilling in his life.

“Fine,”

And together you moved in sync. The postures from the Dance before slipped into your mind easily, flowing with the dragons around you. As you performed the final move, all your hands meeting in the middle, the masters hovered on each side of the bridge.

And then there it was. Fire.

You yelled, covering your faces, as it engulfed you, surrounding the three of you with flames. Inside the vortex, you stare at the scene in awe. “Wow,” Aang said breathlessly, overwhelmed by the sight. “This is incredible,” You whispered, more to yourself than to the others, while watching an infinite amount of colored lights flicker before your eyes.

“I understand,” Zuko muttered, staring at the flames.

After a while, the vortex slowly dissipated, leaving you standing on the bridge. The dragons curled their bodies, flying up and back into their caves. Together, you descended from the steps.

“Their fire was beautiful. I saw so many colors, colors I’ve never imagined,” Zuko said. ”Like firebending harmony,” Aang added. “The different flames were woven together within, building a never ending untiy,” You murmured, still caught upin the previous moment. “Yes. They judged you, and gave you visions of the meaning of firebending,” The Chief agreed when you’d reached the bottom.

”I can’t believe there are still living dragons. My uncle Iroh said he faced the last dragon and killed it,” The prince remembered. “So your uncle lied,” Aang said. Now a tight lipped smile spread on the Chiefs face. ”Actually, it wasn’t a total lie. Iroh was the last outsider to face the masters,” He slightly raised his hand above. “They deemed him worthy and passed the secret onto him as well,” Zuko’d eyes widened. “He must have lied to protect them, so no one else would hunt them,” You hummed, the cornors of your lips lifting slightly at the memory of him. No matter under which identity Iroh disguised himself, you couldn’t deny that he had a good heart and an old soul. “Sounds like the old man,” The prince looked at you upon your fond tone, his amber eyes being just as loving, but you turned away before he could see your embarrassement.

“All this time, I thought firebending was destruction. Since I hurt Katara, I’ve been too afraid and hesitant. But now I know what it really is ... it’s energy, and life,” Aang changed the topic, which you wee more grateful for, than you’d care to admit. ”Yeah. It’s like the Sun,” Zuko added and curled his hand into a fist. “But inside of you. Do you guys realize this?”

The Sun Warrior Chief smiled. “Well, our civilization is called the Sun Warriors ... so yeah,”

Zuko turned towards Aang. “That’s why my firebending was so weak before. Because for so many years, hunting you was my drive ... it was my purpose. So when I joined you, I lost sight of my inner fire. But now, I have a new drive. have to help you defeat my father and restore balance to the world,” He declared, delivering two blast of fire into the air, far more powerful then in the Western Air Temple. Your own bending was restored as well. With a kick into the air, the flames that should have been last time, appeared now. The Avatar bend a similar flame, grinning at his success, before he walked toward the two of you.

“Now that you have learned the secrets, and you know about our tribe’s existence,” He walked up to you, suddenly wearing a serious expression on his face. “We have no choice but to imprison you here forever,” Your eyes widened, looking between Aang and Zuko, before the Chief grinned. “Just kidding. But seriously, don’t tell anyone!”

Back at the Western Air Temple you, Zuko and Aang demonstrated the Dancing Dragon to the rest of Team Avatar and friends.

“With this technique the dragons showed us, Zuko, (Y/N) and I will be unstoppable.” As you moved into the final posture, the group applauded.

”Yeah, that’s a great dance you three learned there,” Sokka’s sarcastic voice reached your ears. “It’s not a dance. It’s a firebending form,” You answered, whereupon Sokka moved his fingers in a dancing manner. “We’ll just tap-dance our way to victory over the Fire Lord.”

Zuko walked closer to him, feeling the need to protect the ancient tradition. “It’s a sacred form that happens to be thousands of years old!”

“Oh, yeah‌? What’s your little form called‌?” Katara asked and Zuko’s cheeks reddened slightly. “The Dancing Dragon.”

He shut his eyes, cringing, as Team Avatar laughed. "Awww, look! He's blushing!" You pointed at his face that seemed to grow more crimson by the second. "I'm not!" He retorted forcefully, as if it would hide the obvious.

You raised your brows, holding your hands up in surrender. "Sorry, Sifu Hotman.”

"Don't call me that!"

tags: @zvkonation @viva-la-millennia @randomness501 @drheinzd @kaylove12 @duh-dobrik @yeetscreetiwannaeat @ ashnkamfeun @hailkyoshi @shortmexicangirl @animexholic @sorrythatspussynal

#zuko x reader #zuko fic #zuko imagine #zuko fanfic #avatar zuko

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furblrwurblr · 3 years

Text

I suppose this is an improvement...

Douxie x reader, fluff with a side of that good kush crack

Sequel to Patience, Love and a part three on the way!

Warnings: Mild swears, a bit of an innuendo

You and Douxie had been talking the past couple of weeks, and he’d slowly broken your lingering wall of embarrassment from that little incident at the coffee shop. He was indescribably sweet and silly, sending you pictures of items from GDT Arcane books with silly captions. You’d long since met the one responsible for the pawprint signature, and absolutely fallen in love with him. The feeling seemed to be mutual, but you weren’t sure until Douxie brought up his magic to you, allowing Archie to speak with you. It was a loaded conversation for him, his only courage coming from the fact that your thoughts curled around his shoulders every morning and night, and that you knew how much time he spent when he woke up turning this way and that to read your thoughts through his blasted tattoos. He’d been surprised when you very calmly dissolved the ring on your finger, reforming it and twirling it in the air, its consistency like liquid. When he asked why he hadn’t sensed it in your aura, all you really knew was that it was one of the Old Magicks, before Light Conjurers like himself had become the predominant class. After that, he spoke with you far more, wanting to learn about your magic and excited his soulmate was like him.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Warped Tour had seemed ages away then, but now it was the day of. You’d just picked up your phone when the intercom buzzed, alerting you that he was here. Hm, scarily punctual, you’d just watched the clock on your lock screen flash 7:00. You buzzed him in and waited by the door, his fast footsteps quickly being surpassed in speed by your heartbeat.

He quickly rapped a knuckle on the door, a nervous smile spreading across his face as you opened the door a little too enthusiastically. He brought his hands from behind his back to reveal… a trollish artifact?

“It’s an Antramonstrum shell to protect your flat. I don’t like the idea of anything taking advantage of your limited offensive magic,” he explained, looking from it to you, trying to discern your reaction.

You were in shock. This man comes to your door promising a nice dinner before he whisks you across the country on a traveling band tour, and he brings you a gift? You’d been expecting flowers or a book but this… it was beautiful. Screw whatever protective capabilities it had, the thing was gorgeous. A beautiful dark base of textured, volcanic rock and ethereal spires of glowing, purple crystal. You gently took it from him, turning it in your hands.

“Where would be best to put it?” you finally asked, remembering its intended purpose.

Douxie unsuredly looked to you, the door, then into the flat causing you to remember something else: he’d been standing in the doorway this entire time. Outside. In the hall. Apologies poured out of you as you threw open the door the rest of the way and ushered him inside. He laughed before taking a quick look around the main area before settling on you. That laugh, every time you heard it was like the first, making your heart blossom. Hah, there’s that word again. First.

You shook your head and pulled yourself out of the clouds to give him a quick tour. He placed the shell on the dresser in the front area and turned to you, hands fiddling against his pockets.

“You ready to go? Our reservation’s in half an hour, we’ve got time to walk before we head off. We can drop your bag off at the bookstore.”

You nodded and grabbed your hiking pack. He’d said you’d be camping together, just for the fun of it, so you packed everything. He chuckled when he saw you, the pack weighing you down almost comically. He tapped it as you passed, a flash of blue light instantly reducing the load.

Walking and talking for the next half hour came naturally, both of you playing off one another’s excitement. Animated conversation followed you both on the near-empty streets of Arcadia.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

The dinner was pleasant, nothing extravagant but certainly among the nicer establishments of the area. He tried to tip the waiter after paying for it all, but you’d slapped his hand away and left $15, really the largest you could afford to.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

After picking up both of your bags and saying farewell to Archie, who wasn’t a fan of any concert Douxie wasn’t a part of, he led you to the woods. Ominous, sure, but he assured you it was worth it. Finally, you two reached a clearing and he plopped his bag down, rummaging through it. He revealed a ball that barely fit comfortably in his hand, raised it, and smashed it against a root. You yelped, covering your face to prevent getting hit with any shards of glass, but there were none. Instead, there now stood a majestic gold and eggshell white boat before you, with a swirling mess of rings and green magic at the back. You stared, mouth agape as Douxie turned to you, hands on his hips and a smirk on his face.

“Let’s close that,” he said, gently placing two fingers under your chin and closing your mouth. He leaned in close, breath fanning over your ear. “Wouldn’t want to catch any flies,” he teased, before dancing backward and slinging his pack over his shoulder. He lifted yours in a sustained flash of blue, its contents rattling in protest when it landed in the boat. You followed him up the now-extended wing of the boat, feeling the metal and magic meld below your feet.

“I’ve got a couple questions,” you stated as he rummaged through a long compartment in the boat’s side.

“Go for it,” he responded, eyes lighting up in triumph as he pulled out a long, golden rod.

“First off, how come you lifted my pack and not yours?”

“Magic isn’t a permissible shortcut to hard work,” he recited. It sounded practiced, so he must hear it often. “For you though, there’s a bit of wiggle room.” He sat across from you on the bench, rod laid in his lap.

Oh, so he got flirty as the night deepened. Good to know. You were curious where his little mantra came from, but you brushed it aside and stuck with the questions you already had. “Alright then, you tease, what’s the green thing in the back?”

His chest puffed a bit with pride. “One of my Master’s creations, he calls it a small Heart of Avalon. Runs on time.”

“It runs on time?”

“It runs on time,” he confirmed with a glint in his eye.

If you weren’t impressed before, you sure were now. “That’s all I’ve got for now,” you said, still processing the magical artifact meant to power this boat.

Douxie stood, twirling the rod in his hand. With his other, he summoned a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves! What you’re about to witness is a magical feat like no other!” He tossed it, mic disappearing in a puff of bright blue smoke. He twirled the rod in the air a few times and slammed the end into the circular port between the benches. The lazy rings roared to life, spinning impossible fast. You looked at him, delighted. He winked at you and braced himself against the rod while you stumbled, the boat moving beneath you.

“You could have warned me!” you chided.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughed.

The boat soared into the sky, the forest already small. He pushed the rod into a tilt, the boat surging forward. The air tousled his hair, long sides whipping against his face. You two were euphoric, happy to be with one another.

He shifted the rod a bit to stay in its current position before sitting next to you on the bench. You two were quiet for a moment until Douxie spoke up. You couldn’t see him properly, but you could tell he was fighting a smile. He lifted up his sleeve, your thoughts about his demeanor after-hours just beginning to fade. “I’m impressed you were able to wait until after dinner this time, little minx,” he said evenly, a snicker escaping him afterward.

You nudged his arm with an indignant half-scoff, face burning at the nickname’s return.

Some time passed, conversation flowing gently. Douxie’s phone began vibrating, ringtone muffled. He pulled it out, the tune now all too clear, his lip between his teeth trying to suppress a shit-eating grin. Zoe’s smiling face mocked you from the screen to that wretched tune.

“Saw this boy at the mall last week, got the kind of look to make me freak…” the rest faded as you contemplated leaping off the side of the boat to become one with nature.

“Douxie! Why!” you scolded through a fit of giggles.

“Hey, Zo,” he laughed into the mic, putting her on speaker.

“Yes!!! She heard it! That was such a good decision, extraordinarily sexy of me for the suggestion. You guys getting close yet?”

“We’re about a quarter of the way, we’ll be there fairly soon.”

A quarter? It hadn’t been that long, just how fast were you going? The wind had died down, your hair no longer swirling violently. You looked over the side to try and glean any understanding of your speed to no avail.

You returned to Douxie’s side as he was finishing up on the phone. He handed it to you after saying his goodbyes, saying Zoe wanted to speak to you briefly. He’d taken it off speaker, so you held it to your ear.

“Hey, sweets. How you holdin’ up?”

You beamed at the term of endearment. “I’m doing alright, he hasn’t killed me yet.”

“I’m more worried about him after how you two met. Don’t jump his bones on the first night, love you, bye!” she snickered.

You barely stammered a farewell through your embarrassed smile before the line went dead. Douxie smirked at you, knowing exactly what was said despite not being able to hear it.

He stood and walked past you to tend to the steering mechanism, not before pausing, placing a hand on your shoulder and speaking into your ear again. His breath tickled your ear, his voice low.

“Patience, love.”

#snuck in a teensy bit of lore from an upcoming fic oops dkdkdkkd #furblewrites #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa #douxie x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux toa #idk #patience love

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hk-plus-you · 3 years

Note

I suddenly remembered there’s that one dead husk (leaking void) that’s holding the Love Key when dreamnailed might be referring to the Collector and implying a relationship between them. What if void itself is also infectious? Maybe an angst scenario where Reader suddenly understands THK without having to communicate via sign and is happy about it but doesn’t realize she’s infected with the void and THK is despairing and tries to push her away? Ignore if it doesn’t make sense 🤦‍♀️

I uh... suck at endings so I hope it’s okay.

You had been with them for a while now, sharing a house in Dirtmouth and spending most of your time close with them. Relationships were still new to them, and they were still very much getting used to not having to hide their feelings or thoughts. Oftentimes they were still too afraid to talk about how they felt about something. That was okay though, you were patient with them, always reassuring them if you noticed something was off and took things slowly to give them plenty of time to adjust. They were your sweet darling knight and you’d do nearly anything to make sure they were happy and comfortable. You often reminisce about your old family, giving examples of your parents and siblings to try and explain something. You also learned decently quickly that Hollow's own family was a tricky subject. They were never able to get close to their mother and their relationship with their father was a complicated knot of emotions you wouldn't try to force them to untie all at once for you. Then their siblings were… somewhere else, a place they were incredibly hesitant to talk about. Hollow's signs were always shaky, often stopping and starting suddenly, movement smaller and much softer than usual when they were brought up. You just let the topic go their siblings all together, never really asking about them. When they approached you, asking if you could come while they visited the place of their birth to see their siblings again you knew it would be something messy. You would never have been able to imagine a place like The Abyss. Not in a thousand years in your worst nightmares would you have imagined someone having to be born in a place like this. You knew somewhat of the void, not quite by the right name, but you knew of the dark substance that seemed to only take form to hurt and kill things that weren’t also made of it. It was something that was inside Hollow, something they’d never be able to get rid of. Seeing the Abyss, seeing the piles of masks from what must be hundreds of thousands of children that practically made the walls and floor, having the bug you loved pointing at creatures practically made of shadow that attacked you two and them signing ‘sibling’? You did all you could to not gape at them in horror at what they had to endure. You came back out feeling cold and on the verge of tears. It was weird, you were more upset about it than they were. And with that came guilt. They tried to comfort you as you stood outside the entrance trying not to shake. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? The next few days were practically spent recuperating from the visit. You went about your business as usual with them by your side but you just felt… Heavy and tired all the time. They could easily tell something was off, now doting on you at every turn. Making tea and breakfast in the morning to wake you up, helping clean up after dinner, even leaving little notes to try and brighten your day. “I’m really worried about you.” The thought shattered through your head, startling you out from your previous focus on washing a cup. Didn’t come from you, the voice was distant and quiet, spoken like a whisper that echoed in your mind. You looked around for a moment but nothing was amiss. You were just cleaning up after lunch. You would wash the dishes and Hollow would put them away. At your confusion though, they paused, eyes full of concern as they watched you. “What happened?” that same voice whispered. “Is something wrong?” Hollow signed. “I… I’m not sure. I don't know how to explain…” They leaned close, bumping their head against yours. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken you to the abyss. You’ve been acting odd since then. I shouldn’t ha-” “Is that you?” You jumped back slightly, voice louder and higher pitched than you intended. They tilted their head, “Is what me?” “The-the voice! I can hear someone in my head. It… Do you feel guilty for taking me to see where you were born?” Their eyes were wide in an instant, “Can you hear my thoughts?” “I think so? Who or what else would it be?” They shook their head vigorously at that, stepping backward as they did so, “Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad!” They broke out in a run through the house and out the door. “Wait!” You tried to chase them, following them down out the door and through Dirtmouth. You barely saw the tip of their horns disappearing down the well as you passed the stage station. When you made your way down the chain they were just gone. There was no trail to follow, no way to find them again. You searched for them for several days. Was this so awful? Did you really lose them forever? The house felt empty without them there anymore. It had been the largest house in Dirtmouth, you even worked to modify it and raise the ceiling even higher so their horns wouldn’t graze it. The bed was huge to accommodate them. Each room built for larger bugs that just took up more space. Now the rooms felt empty, most of the furniture so big, something you had found almost adorable in how it made you feel small, now was intimidating and cold. You had to go back to your old house, even then it still felt lonely and miserable. Sly’s prying wasn’t helping, and Elderbug’s attempts to comfort you felt anything but helpful. Worst of all, no matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you couldn’t cry. Not a single little tear, no matter how much you needed that release. You ventured down the well again. Part of you still trying to find them, the other part just wanting to get lost. You made it into the city of tears, the rain cold against your shell. The guards were long gone and dead, many of their bodies impaled against the spikes that were on every roof. Others simply fell over, weapons held in vice grip in cold hands. All of its inhabitants were dead, and with them, so was the city. Well… All of them except for one relic seeker. The little shop was surprisingly warm for being in the city. Each shelf stuffed with trinkets and artifacts you had never seen, thick stacks of papers were piled in boxes behind the counter. What really caught your attention was the large window that made the entire far wall. It had a beautiful view of the city’s heart. There was a statue of Hollow in the center, surrounded by three cloaked figures. In front of it stood Hollow, staring at the stone version of themself. You left the shop immediately, making a mad dash for that statue. The words ‘please don’t leave’ repeated through your head like a mantra. They turned to you before you even reached them. They were soaked through, leaning on their old nail for support. Their head hung low as they watch you approach. “Please-I-Why did you-” Your words jumbled together, thoughts coming out in an impossible to understand slurry. “Please…” They stared at you, signing nothing as you looked up at them. “What did I do? Please just talk to me! What happened?” You looked down, tears finally welling in your eyes. “You’re sick. Sick because of me,” their voice rang in your head again. “What?” “The void. It infects everything it touches. It’s in you now. You shouldn’t be able to hear me. You shouldn’t be able to hear this. It could get worse because of me,” They shifted, their mask coming into view as they kneel before you. “So? Isn’t that a good thing? We don't have to worry about things being lost in translation anymore.” They let out a small huff. “But it’ll get worse. It always starts with hearing the void it gets so much worse.” “How do you know it’ll get worse?” “People in the abyss always got sick. No longer able to resist the call they turned the light off. The void would get stronger and consume their mind.” “But we aren’t in the abyss!” You threw your arms out in frustration. Tears falling fast with the rain. “I only got ‘sick’ when we went there. I’ve been living with you for several years and nothing happened. If I just stay away from there it won’t get worse.” “But what if it does?” They looked away from you, back at the ground. “But what if it doesn’t?” “We don’t know if it won’t. I couldn’t do that to you.” You put your head at the side of their mask, lightly pulling their gaze back, “I’ve been miserable with you gone. Please, don’t leave me alone.” You pressed your head against theirs. Eyes closed as you sobbed, “I’ve missed you so much,” Their nail clattered to the ground as they wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to their chest. “I’ve missed you too.”

#hollow knight #thk #the hollow knight #reader insert #x reader #my writings

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

All in Your Head (Part 5)

SSA Main ✧ Batman ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧

You turn to Bruce and he’s already glaring at you. He’s already put two and two together and summed up the rest of your story.

You gulp before telling him, “She wants to help the Justice League stop Luthor but… in exchange for a big favor.”

You slept early. Earlier than Bruce. You pace quickly in the black space as you wait for him to arrive, all the while grasping the replica of your phone. The screen’s brightness shines in the darkness like a floodlight.

When Bruce finally arrives, his bat suit blends in with the empty dreamscape and you don’t see him at first. But you hear his thoughts as he freely lets them loose, foregoing all trained inhibitions because he’s now with you. Then you find out that he already knows.

Your head whips around harshly and you’re glaring at him. “You read her message.”

Bruce stops mid step and stations himself on the spot. He’s feeling the air with both your subconscious in it. You know this. You expected it. Without ever having to tell you, you know he keeps watch of you outside of this safe haven. His diligence tripled after Luthor and Crane’s stunt.

He’s too far away to personally keep you safe and keeping you close would only put a larger target on your back. He knows you understand why. But now he’s trying to figure out why you’re on edge.

You shake your head. You can feel him filtering through your swimming thoughts.

“Did you find her?” you ask.

Ah. There it is. He realizes that this isn’t about the two of you. This is about Luthor and his soulmate. This is about you worrying after she had sent you that message. Thanking you for helping her get in touch with the Justice League and apologizing for all the trouble she’s caused. She also promised to keep Luthor in check as much as she could.

“No.”

“You have to find her, Bruce. What if she’s in danger?”

Bruce continues walking toward you. As he walks, the air shifts, and the space is slowly forming.

“Green Arrow saw her follow Luthor willingly,” he answers her.

You almost couldn’t believe it. When she asked them to take away Luthor’s memories of her, her resolve was unwavering. She was willing to give Luthor the life he’s always wanted even if it meant she’ll never be in it.

Bruce is standing next to you now, while the two of you are on a farm, under a big tree, and looking out at a big pile of ashes on the ground. He takes off his cowl. “We took care of Luthor’s labs and took all his research and artifacts connected to the soulmate links. They’re all in League custody. We also searched his past residences in case he kept something sentimental connected to her.”

That’s when you hear it in the air, the unspoken information that you’re standing where Luthor had grown up and where they had met. Bruce fills your subconscious with short notes about the ashes that had once been Luthor’s house. He keeps them short and factual to avoid overloading your emotions.

“And did he?” you ask.

Bruce purses his lips and doesn’t answer. He does it when he knows you won’t like hearing the answer. But you think he does it because he doesn’t like it either. He changes the dreamscape back to darkness.

“But he has his memories back?” you ask even though you already know the answer. It’s the only reason why she would follow him. That means Luthor has finally accepted her as his soulmate. But you need to hear it from Bruce to be sure, to be hopeful.

“Miss Martian reported an anomaly in his memory bank. It was well organized and clearly labeled–”

“A trap.”

“A distraction.” You stare at Bruce with a puzzled look. “Luthor’s brain was overwhelming. Miss Martian would have found it too taxing to verify each and every memory and thought. She had to trust that everything was labeled accurately.”

“And you let her,” you interrupt, “That means you already knew that Luthor was aware of the plan. He had a failsafe.”

Bruce hums to himself and you could feel his thoughts swimming around you before he speaks, “It had to be a single memory. Short enough to hide from a telepath but strong enough to incite every other memory he’s ever had.”

Bruce doesn’t say anymore but you stop feeling his buzzing subconscious in the air, no longer analyzing relentlessly, as if he’s figured it out.

“It was a memory of her, wasn’t it?” you blurt out. Bruce doesn’t respond. He’s not sure whether the answer will make you happy or not.

Instead of answering, he shifts the space into the batcave and walks toward his computer. But he doesn’t miss the twitch of your fingers and the way your knees lock in place once the space has fully formed.

“Maybe–,” you start to say but the screams, gunshot, and maniacal laughter in your head echo loudly. You want to be anywhere but here. You want to ask for a different space but there’s no need to say anymore because Bruce quickly shifts the surrounding into the Watchtower.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he walks back to you.

Bruce may relive his nightmares every night but not enough time has passed for you to forget what it was like to feel like you’re dying. You think no time will ever be enough to forget the guilt and sorrow you felt when you were dying in front of Bruce. His hopelessness and desperation. They were heavy in the air and it suffocated you, pushing down on your chest. It felt like Bruce’s mind was willing you to death.

Bruce holds your hand and squeezes it. You can feel his own dread weighing in the air. You don’t want that. There’s more than enough of it in here and out there. You try to cheer up while looking around the Watchtower.

“So all and all, everything turned out alright.” You sigh in relief, giving yourself time to dispel your own negative thoughts. When you turn to him, your smile is genuine, “I’m glad.” But he squeezes your hand again. “Oh!” you exclaim, taking your hand away to bring it to your face. You want to change the subject. “The Fate sister! Is she…”

Bruce purses his lips and narrows his eyes. He studies you for only a second before he sighs. “With her sisters,” he answers while he turns to the Watchtower screen. It turns on to show you a clip of the Fate sisters and their reunion. “The League wanted to hold her for questioning. So we can be better prepared next time someone targets the links. But she’s still a civilian so we let them go.”

You’re relieved to find him irritated. It’s very subtle. Narrowed eyes with pupils slightly moving side to side as he prevents himself from rolling his eyes. No doubt a mannerism he had in his younger years and Alfred had conditioned it out of him.

You snicker, “I’m sure her sisters were ecstatic. Cryptic but ecstatic.”

“They were… helpful.” Bruce takes a moment before he turns to you and plants a scene in the middle of the Watchtower lobby. “They let us keep the cauldron and the scissors.”

Bruce replays his memory of what happened at Luthor’s private lab where Luthor severed his link with his soulmate. You watch his soulmate beg for her memories and notice how she continued to caress him as they stole his. You hear and witness everything and your knees are suddenly weak but your soulmate holds you.

Bruce speaks as the scene dissolves in front of you. “Some links automatically stop once the soulmate’s meet. But they’re still tied to each other.”

Then, you feel it. A question hangs in the air and it’s so heavy you feel your muscles straining to keep you standing. With wide eyes and quivering lips, you turn to your soulmate. Bruce asks you something he’s wanted to ask you for the longest time. Ever since the first night, you appeared in his nightmare.

“Would you like to stop meeting here?”

You knew it was coming but you’re still stunned. No thought fills the air. He watches you closely to figure out your answer before he hears it. But he doesn’t. So he furrows his brows and his mouth curls down when he looks at the ground.

You know it’s not because he doesn’t want you. You know perfectly well why he’s asking if you want to sever your link. This is the dreamscape where your subconscious runs freely. There is no room for misunderstandings here.

Bruce’s voice is lower when he speaks again. “We have the means to cut our link and dream on our own again. No more nightmares, Y/N.”

You frown. You frown so deeply and your eyes water as you watch the lines on his brows grow more prominent and the way his eyes twitch as he stares hard at the stark grey floor. You reach out to touch his cheeks and make him turn to you. Your lips quiver when you speak and you hold him in your hands to keep him right where he is.

“There’ll always be nightmares, Bruce.” You lean forward until your forehead touches his and you close your eyes. “Whether it’s yours or mine, at least we’ll go through it together.”

Bruce opens his mouth to speak but his jaws are shaking and his teeth are clashing. Instead he kisses you on the forehead. His lips press firmly against your skin and too soon he pulls back.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he whispers.

You grit your own teeth and your tears are still falling. “No one should.”

You grip the hem of his cape and pull him close until he’s pressed against you. You clutch tightly, afraid he’ll disappear from your dreams, afraid he’s not real. But he is. He’s here and you feel it. You feel it when he wraps his arms around you and how his hands grip your shoulders. You feel it when he buries his face in your hair and lets out the shaky breath he’s been holding.

You let yourselves stay in this peaceful moment, without words and without thoughts. Until it’s broken by a familiar song. You throw your head back with a laugh, tears still in your eyes when you finally speak, “Rick Astley?!” And Bruce thinks he could never be more enamored by you than in this moment. “Is that your alarm?” you ask in disbelief.

He shakes his head and surprisingly he gives you a small smile and turns away slightly. “It’s my communicator at the manor. Dick changed it.”

You immediately stop laughing but you try to keep up a small smile as you disentangle yourselves. “So the work continues,” you tease and Bruce replies with a small nod. You can tell he’s composing himself because once he wakes up, he’s no longer just your soulmate but the dark knight of Gotham City. “You need a break.”

Bruce turns to you and finds you smiling impishly. He returns it with a smirk of his own. “I do.” His attention turns to the large monitor displaying the Justice League insignia. “Most likely, the League will force me to file for one sometime soon.”

You laugh and eye him curiously. “Where are you gonna go?”

Bruce looks at you, one eyebrow raised and there’s a subtle glint in his eyes. “Would you like to see the Watchtower in person?”

END.

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