#things like these you feel on the entire continent really | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying.

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer.

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm.

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant.

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines.

John’s icon dims.

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to.

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you.

He tried to call as often as he could.

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down.

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic.

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening.

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind.

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?”

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work.

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth.

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together.

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad?

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears.

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.”

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted?

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him.

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind.

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with.

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present.

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…”

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear.

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?”

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring.

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts.

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor.

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs.

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.”

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin.

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing.

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?”

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation.

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.”

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords.

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else.

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences.

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips.

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends.

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute.

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later.

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?”

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?”

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name.

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed.

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click.

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms.

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat.

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening.

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh.

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.”

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod.

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.”

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.”

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight.

You steel yourself and raise the box.

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair.

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully.

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm.

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead.

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders.

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed.

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship.

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!”

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly.

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.”

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it.

Pregnant.

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly.

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts.

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss.

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold.

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again.

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.”

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.”

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.”

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.”

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second.

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.”

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child.

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.”

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.”

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave.

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

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fangirleaconmigo · 10 months

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Since TWN S1 dropped, people have argued on here nonstop about Jaskier..., is he tough, is he soft, is he sweet, is he feral, (and on and on)

Firstly, the most obvious answer is that people are many things at once. Obviously. These things are not mutually exclusive.

But also. Guys this is all extremely, wildly relative.

Think about it.

To Jaskier's terrifyingly powerful friends (Geralt can kill like ten people at once, Yen burns whole armies) he's just a little wet kitten. He's a precious little package to look after when times get scary.

But compared to other POETS? Other ACADEMICS? Other MINOR NOBLES? he is inSANE.

Imagine him teaching at Oxenfurt. The youths are like HOLY FUCK , this man has walked the entire continent. He has seen five hundred kinds of deadly monsters, and lived to tell. He's survived kidnappings, walked through war zones, he has mementos from like three different historical battles on his walls. His dearest friends (family, really) are people who are sung about in dark cottages like they are demons and world destroyers. HIS BABY NIECE IS LIKE *THE* WORLD DESTROYER TO SOME PEOPLE. He understands war strategy, every single aspect of every faction, and how to survive almost anything.

He would be so intimidating to them.

Then Geralt and Yen come to visit and squish his cheeks like look, it's our soft little baby, we need to check on him because he cannot fend for himself. I hope no one here has hurt his feelings, we have learned that he hates that so we no longer allow it.

And he's like...can I come on this mission?

And they're like idk it's so dangerous for you.

And the students are like ????????

#the witcher #jaskier #i am feeling silly in this chilis tonight

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fallingdownhell · 3 months

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Hiii! Can I request Aether, Kaeya and Dainsleif (or just one of them!) Angst where they’ve been dismissive of reader for days but then they forget a date reader took a long time planning so they can spend some time together, so reader comes home late to find them there and angrily unloads and breaks up with them and starts trying to leave but they beg for reader to stay (whether reader stays or not can be up to you <3)

*rubbing hands toghether, laughing evily* Hehehe.. Characters Included: Aether; Kaeya; Dainsleif Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; angst; hurt/no comfort; breaking up; hurt/comfort; not proofread yet Word count: 3,9k words And just to say this from the get go.. THIS IS A STAND ALONE. THERE WON'T BE A PART 2 TO THIS! With that out of the way... enjoy!

Aether

You were tapping your fingers on the kitchen table. It had a somewhat rhythmical sound to it, yet inside, you were feeling restless and defeated.

The food you had spent almost the entire afternoon preparing and cooking, has already gotten cold in front of you. Keeping hope that Aether might still show up, you had reheated it three separate times. And yet, he never showed up.

He was three hours late at this point and you have lost all hope that he was actually showing up any time soon. Even though he had promised you a hundred times that he would not forget this time.

With a sigh, you stand up from the table, collecting the food and bringing it back to the kitchen. You contemplated wether it would be worth it to keep, but in the end, you just threw it away, thinking that it would be bad from all the reheating you had done.

Cleaning up took you longer than expected, your movements slow as your thoughts contined to drift off all the time. Wandering back to the absence of your boyfriend. How he promised to be here today, with you, since he already missed or had forgotten about other dates in the past.

You understand him, you really do. Travelling the entirety of Teyvat, trying to find his missing sister. But then again, why get into a relationship with you when he knew he would be absent the entire time? Why did you even agree to dating Aether in the first place?

Thoughts like that continued to plague your mind until you were done washing up, putting the damp towel away as you decided to head to bed for the day. A part of you still hoped that he didn't forget, that he was just running late and would burst through the door anytime, apologizing profusely for the delay. You hoped for this the entire time you got changed, brushed your teeth and then tugged yourself in bed.

Yet it never happened.

A single tear ran down your cheek as you turned around and fell asleep, the dissapointment having settled deep within you.

Over the course of the next two days, you contined to hope for Aether to come back, while you were also reevaluating the entirety of your relationship with Aether at this point.

He was gone 90% of the time, and even if he did come back to Mondstadt, he only stayed for a couple of days. And even in those few days, the time you actually got to spend alone with him was very limited, making you feel like you barely even had a relationship with him at all, at this point. He was always so focused on finding his sister and helping others, that there just wasn't any time left for you.

You took your time to thourougly think things over those two days, and in the end, you came to the decision that this whole thing wasn't worth it anymore.

You were done waiting around for him. You were done feeling lonely and isolated, hoping for Aether to come back to you just for him to leave again. You wanted to feel loved and appreciated, like you deserved to.

So, on the third day after he missed yet another date, you pulled through with your decision and packed up all of the things he had left at your place. Which wasn't much since he wasn't around that much. It all fit pretty much into one single backpack.

You were just finishing up when you suddenly heard the sound of the front door unlocking, a sound that you desperately had hoped to hear just a few days ago. A sound that usually sent butterflies flying through your entire body. And a sound that now made your heart sink. You had made the decision to end this relationship, and yet, you didn't feel ready to face Aether just yet. But there was no running away anymore.

"(Name)? I'm back!", you heard his soft voice call out to you as he closed the door behind him gently. You took a deep breath in, trying to put on a tough facade, then grabbed the backpack and headed out of the bedroom to face your still-boyfriend for the final time.

Aether's face lit up into a bright smile upon seeing you, but when he didn't get the same reaction from you, his face dropped a bit.

"What's wrong, (Name)? Did something happen?", he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"It sure did. Remember when you promised to show up for our dinner date three days ago? The one you swore up and down you wouldn't forget this time and actually be there for?", you asked him. Your tone of voice was utterly calm, no hint of accusation found whatsoever.

You could see his face drop in sudden realization and he already opened his mouth to say something, most likely apology after apology, with the promise to do better in the future. Like he always did. But before Aether could get out a single word, you extended the backpack towards him, waiting for him to take it.

"..what's this?", he asked as he hesitantly reached out and took it from your hand.

"All your stuff you had lying around here. I'm breaking up with you, Aether. I'm done with all of this. Please leave."

"Wait, (Name)! I'm sorry, okay! I know this is purely my fault, but please don't do this! I promise this won't happen again! Please, give me a chance to prove myself!", he started begging as soon as the words of breaking up with him left your lips.

Your heart clenched at hearing his words, you wanted to trust him so badly, but it was finally time to prioritize yourself.

"No. I'm sorry, but that's not happening. You've had chance after chance to prove yourself. To prove to me that our relationship actually meant something to you. But time and time again, you only proved to me that you don't care. You only care about finding your sister. And that is fine. But I'm done hoping to become just as important to you when that's never going to happen."

"No, you're wrong! I love you, (Name)! Please, don't do this!", he was begging now, almost falling to his knees when he saw how serious you were in your decision.

A single tear ran down your cheek and you couldn't help the small smile forming. "I love you too, Aether. I do, but this just doesn't work anymore. Maybe, this is just a case of meeting the right person at the wrong time. But regardless, I can't do this anymore. I can't contine to wait around for you when I could be with someone who appreciates me like I deserve to. So please, just.. leave."

He was silent after you said that, staring at you. You could both feel his heart shattering into pieces, tears threatening to fall, but he kept them in. After a moment, he just nodded, gripping the backpack with his stuff close to his chest as he turned around and headed towards the front door.

But before he left, he turned to face you once again. "I really do love you, (Name). But if this is what you want, I won't fight you on it. I honestly wish you the best in life, and that you find happiness."

"...Good luck with finding your sister.", you said after a nod, which he returned. And then, he opened the front door, leaving both your house and your life.

Only then did the reality of it all sink into you and you couldn't hold back the tears anymore. It hurt, but you still thought it to be the right decision.

You'd heal, but it will take some time..

Kaeya

For a few weeks now, your Cavalry Captain boyfriend has been swamped with work, to the point where he spends entire nights at the Knights headquarters to try and finish up, but every time, a new pile of work gets added on, so he just never quite finishes with it.

Thanks to this, your relationship and the time spent with him has suffered quite a lot. You try to be understanding and support him with whatever you can, but it's hard not seeing him at all.

The few times he comes home, he almost instantly gets into bed and falls asleep, only to be gone again when you wake up. Or, when you still used to go visit him to bring him something to eat. But when he yelled at you for distracting him from his work, you also stopped doing that.

You had been feeling neglected for some time now, but every time you bring this up to Kaeya, he brushes you off and tells you that it'll be over soon. That he will be done with his work soon and then everything will go back to the way it has been. You want to believe him so bad, but it's hard.

But after that talk, nothing seemed to change for yet another week, so you decided to try and talk to him again. This time, it seemed to go a lot smoother than last time, and you actually got him to see things from your point of view, which led to the two of you agreeing to just take some time for the relationship again and go on a date, since you haven't been able to do that for some time.

Nothing too fancy, just going out for some nice dinner and having the time to talk to each other again, maybe a walk around the city or outside for a bit before heading home again. You didn't need anything fancy or big, it would be enough just to spend some time with your boyfriend again.

At the night you two settled on, you arrived first and got seated. Since you didn't see any harm in it, you ordered yourself something to drink while waiting for Kaeya to show up.

And wait you did.

After twenty minutes, you ordered some wine.

After another half hour, he still wasn't there, no sign of him ever showing up.

You saw the pityful looks of other patrons and the staff, which only led you to drink even more.

When Kaeya didn't show up after another twenty minutes, you decided to pay and leave. The entire way back to your home, your head hung low and you were fighting the tears that threatened to escape.

Only when the front door was finally shut behind you did you allow the floodgates to open, the tears now freely running down your cheeks as you sank down along the door, hitting the floor and finally breaking down.

The alcohol in your system helped to rile your feelings up and your cried and sobbed for what felt like forever. When the tears finally stopped, you felt like running on autopilot when you got changed and walked into the bedroom.

To your utter surprise, there was Kaeya, fast asleep on the bed, like nothing was wrong. You just stood there, mouth hanging open when you saw him sleeping peacefully.

So, he totally forgot about the date and just went home and to sleep without a care in the world.

You had half a mind to wake him up and confront him, but decided against it, seeing as the alcohol would probably not contribute to you making smart decisions. So, you decided to wait until morning to do so.

When morning rose, you were woken up by Kaeya as he got himself ready for work. Normally, you'd just go back to sleep, but not this time. Instead, you sat up and looked at him, and when he turned to you, he noticed your red and swollen eyes.

"You've been crying? What happened?", he asked you. He was concerned, but while asking you, he continued to get himself ready, only half his attention on you, even when noticing something wasn't right with you. It ticked you off, but you still tried to remain calm for now.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that I got stood up by my own boyfriend yesterday. Maybe the fact that I was worried about something happening to him, only to find out that he totally forgot about our date and just went to sleep without a care in the world.", you said, sarcasm rooted deep within your statement.

Hearing that, a quiet string of curses left Kaeya's mouth before he came facing you again. "Yeah, I totally forgot. Sorry about that. But it's not like it was that important anyways. I had a pretty exhausting day yesterday, I was tired, so I forgot about it."

You were stumped by his words, your eyes widening. "That's it? That's your excuse for not showing up?"

"Relax. It's not like it was a life or death situation. We can have another date at any given time.", he just brushed you off like that, waving his hand like it all didn't mean anything to him.

And you realized at that point that nothing was going to change if you didn't do anything about it.

"I want to break up.", you said, tone cold and controlled, and you finally caught Kaeya's attention with that. He froze in his steps and turned around to face you, now finally putting his full attention on you.

"...What?", he asked, his one eye that wasn't hidden by his eyepatch widening in disbelief, like he couldn't believe those words you just spoke.

"You heard me. I want to break up with you."

"Over that? Because I forgot one date?"

"No. Because I barely get to see you anymore. You're never there to spend time with me anymore. And when you promised me to finally do so and go on a date with me, you stood me up! I know my worth and I know I deserve better than that."

"You know how busy the Knights have been recently! Everyone has to work hard these days!"

"And yet, everyone else still seems to care enough about themselves to leave when work is over and spend some time away, maybe with their families. Except you.

Have you ever considered asking for help with all the work you have? Asking someone else to take over a portion of it for you? Or just going to Jean and telling her to not add anymore for you to do when you haven't even finished your other work?"

You listed off all the things he could have done to handle the work better, and knowing that Kaeya hadn't done anything to ask fo help, he remained silent, averting his eyes as the guilty conscious caught up to him.

"I tried to be understand, and I tried to help you. But I can't keep going like this without anything changing. Your work is becoming more important to you than anything else. And I'm not about to sit back and watch you destroy yourself."

After that, silence ensued between the two of you, where you were staring at Kaeya, waiting for him to say something, while he was intently staring at the floor, thinking over everything that had happened and realising that you were right. He has been neglecting you and the relationship. And because of that, he was about to loose you... He couldn't let that happen!

"You're right..", he said, his voice quiet, but growing stronger with every word he said. "You're right. I was to caught up with everything and I didn't even think to ask for help. I didn't even realize how I was treating you as a result. I'm sorry, (Name).

I.. I know this isn't an excuse for anything, but I promise I'll do better. Just please.. give me a chance to prove it to you. I promise to treat you better from now on, like you deserve to be treated. Please, give me one last chance."

He was walking over to you, as you were still sitting in the bed, and dropped to his knees in front of the bed, taking one of your hand between his hands, holding it close in front of his face, and you could see a single tear run down his cheek from his blue eye that was staring at your intertwined hands.

You wring with yourself, contemplating your choices and wether you wanted to go through with the breakup or not. With bated breath, Kaeya remained where he was, just waiting for your answer. He didn't know if he could accept it if you did decide to break up with him. He never wanted to loose you.. especially not over something like this...

In the end, you let out a sigh as you leaned towards him, lowering your hands so you could look into his eye properly.

"Okay. I'm giving you one chance. One only. If nothing is changing, I'm going through with the breakup. I can't go on feeling like not even a second choice to you."

Relief washed over his face, evident by the first shocked expression, then the smile that soon followed. Kaeya leaning into you as well, putting his forehead against yours, his eye closing as he soaked up the feeling of you so close to him again.

"You're always my first choice, (Name). I'm sorry I made you feel like that wasn't the case. I love you, and I promise I'll do my best to prove it to you from here on out."

Dainsleif

You thought you knew what you were getting yourself into when entering a relationship with Dainsleif. You may not know everything about him or his past, but you didn't need to in order to love him. That's what you had thought, at least...

Now, after some months of dating... you did slowly realize that maybe, love isn't always enough.

How often was it that he was gone, claiming to be searching for something, yet never telling you what it was, aside that it was important and had to do with his past.

How often did you wait for him when he told you he'd be back after a week, only for him to never keep the promise.

How often have you told him how lonely you felt without him, only for him to spend a bit more time with you, before ultimately having to leave again? And every time he left, it hurt more than all the times before.

And now, it seems you've reached a breaking point.

Today was your six month anniversary with him, and although you weren't usually one to celebrate such things, you decided to use it as an excuse to spend some alone time with him again. When you told him about your plans, he seemed excited and promised to be there to celebrate the event with you.

But he never showed up.

You've been waiting the whole day for him, but seeing as it was almost the next day already, you were certain that he wasn't going to show up anymore.

It wasn't even like you had something big planned. You just wanted some nice and quiet alone time with him, to celebrate you staying together for so long. But now, you felt stupid for it.

Why were you even wasting so much time and energy into this when it didn't seem like he was doing the same thing in the first place?

You thought back to the time you asked him about the celebration, and how he seemed excited. Was that for real? Or was he only faking it to appease you? You couldn't tell anymore.

He promised to be there, but here you were, all alone. Like you seem to be almost every day now..

But even then, hope was a traitorous little thing. It made you stay, hoping for him to show up and apologize for making you wait. Only for that hope to be crushed again and again with every day that passed after it.

And yet, you kept hoping and waiting for Dainsleif, for a whole week. And still, he never showed up.

He told you he would only be gone for a short while, that he would be back on time for the celebration.

He promised it... and broke it so easily.

As the week had passed, and you didn't get a single sign of him, all the hope you had left had finally been crushed, with no hope of it ever coming back. You were finally done. You couldn't handle the pain and heartbreak any longer. On the inside, you were done with this relationship. It hardly felt like it even was one to begin with.

You took your time when you were packing up your things, since you didn't think he'd show up now, of all times. And you should be proven right, once again.

Still, you felt bad if you just up and left without a word of explanation, so you decided to write him a little note. Which turned out to be more of a letter that you then left on the kitchen table.

Getting the help of an old friend, you managed to grab all of your stuff in only one trip. You did feel bad for leaving just like that, but it also felt... liberating.

Like you could finally breathe again.

A huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. And although you still loved Dain, you also felt.. happy.

....

It took Dainsleif another whole week until he finally returned back to the small home he shared with you. He couldn't wait to finally see you again, hold you in his arms, feel you against him again. He'd missed you so very much.

He'd wanted to come back for so long, but the Abyss has been relentless in hunting him down, and he couldn't risk to lead them to you, so he had to stay away until he was certain that it was safe to return again.

But, upon entering the home, he immediately knew something was off. It just felt... empty.

He called out your name, but when no response came, he went to search for you. When Dainsleif couldn't find you, panic began to settle in him. He was about to run out and look for you, when some pieces of paper caught his attention.

The letter you wrote for him.

The more he read through it, the more his hands began to shake, crumbling the paper between his fingers.

When he finished reading through its contents, he didn't know what to feel.

There was anger, despair, some resentment, but most of all.. guilt. And longing.

A longing to go out and search for you, to clear things up and, if he had to, beg for you to take him back.

But he couldn't.

You had made it very clear in your letter that you didn't want to see him anymore. And no matter how much it hurt him, Dainsleif had always respected your wishes. To act against them now, would only make him feel worse.

He would honor your wish for now, hoping that, maybe, in the future, you'd seek him out to talk things through with him. Maybe then, he could ask for your forgiveness, and hopefully, another chance.

But until then, he'd make sure that you'd be safe from afar, watching over you and keeping his love for you alive..

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #aether x reader #aether x you #aether angst #aether x reader angst #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya angst #kaeya x reader angst #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x you #dainsleif angst #dainsleif x reader angst

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heliads · 1 year

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whilst requests are open I have an idea to put forth after years of us discussing this man. Harry Hook x reader based on 'the way I loved you' by taylor swift. Childhood friends to lovers, to strangers to lovers again mayhaps? idk babes. Love you though, I hope your requests don't get out of hand again so you can stay stress-free!

eva i love you for sending this in, please let me talk about harry hook. he's insane and i cannot get enough of him

masterlist

You are lying on your bed in a dorm room in Auradon Prep, and if you close your eyes, you can almost convince yourself that you’re somewhere else entirely. Your roommate hung a lantern in the window, and with the glass pane cracked halfway, the light sways back and forth on the ceiling, painting shifting golden silhouettes on the perfectly painted ceiling. If you let the present world fade into the corners of your consciousness, you can pretend there are flaws in the endless pristine magnificence. You could even pretend that you aren’t on the continent at all.

No daughter of a princess should ever be anywhere but in Auradon. That’s the way it should have been, but you ran the second you got the chance and ended up amongst criminals and sons of thieves instead of with other prettily polished girls. Is it a terrible thing to admit that you miss it more than anything?

You shouldn’t, that’s the worst part. You left them willingly. As time passes, though, you’re starting to think that what you thought was one great fight with the so-called lowlifes of this world might have been the greatest time of your life. It’s like fording a raging river; while you’re in the thick of the waves, you think you might drown, but when you’re safe on the dry shore again, all you can think of is the coolness of the water, how the flood had sparkled like a thousand sapphires.

You shut your eyes and then you’re back again, just a kid, happier than you’ve ever been and twice as free. It had been easy to leave, actually, easier than it should have been. In your family, there were enough siblings and cousins and relatives that just one girl could go unnoticed. It’s not that Ariel intentionally tried to blur all of her daughters together in her memory, but it couldn’t be helped. She was one of seven daughters, and you were one of many as well. It wasn’t her fault, no, but it was your excuse anyway.

It turns out that nobody bats their eyes at a mermaid’s daughter when she’s running headlong towards the surf. You dove into the waves and came up to shore miles away. Your mother was terrified of losing any one of her children to the endless sea just as her father lost her to land, so none of you were allowed to stray that close to the beach. Of course you would see how far you could go the second you were unsupervised. Of course you would push the limits just to learn where you would break.

You ended up scaring the daylights out of a boy in a small sailing craft not far from the limits of the Isle of the Lost. You hadn’t meant to go that far, but you were giddy with the feeling of doing something wrong and he was trying to escape as well. He’d offered for you to hitch a ride with him so long as the wind was good. You thought that suited you well enough, so you took the hand he gave you and listened when he introduced himself as Harry Hook.

He said his name the same way you did, emphasis on the first name and not the last. It’s the exact opposite way any child of a prince or princess does, and you think that might have been why you liked him from the start. The sun shone overhead, and you talked to him about running away and taking to the sea and all the things you wanted to do if you just had time.

Neither of you wanted to leave, not really, but of course all good things have to come to an end at some point. You watched the sun sink lower and lower in the sky with all the dread of a doomed man going to the gallows. You must have looked seriously unhappy, because you remember Harry laughing and saying that you could meet him tomorrow, if you wanted. You wanted that more than anything, as it turned out, so you eagerly agreed.

Harry took you as far as he could towards Auradon again, and watched as you dove into the water. You can still remember how he’d watched you go, the way his eyes had tracked the water as if he could look at you forever, even after you disappeared from view. He stayed there for a long time before finally forcing his ship to turn around again. You’d know; you stayed there on the ocean floor watching him back until he was gone.

The next day, you slipped away to meet him again, and the next day, and the next. When you were caught trying to go out to the sea sometime in the second month, you fought until you could find a suitable excuse. Your mother was perfectly fine to let you go to some private school by the coast, it would mean one less child to keep track of. The papers were signed and agreements made before you could so much as blink.

You, of course, never went to that school. Instead, you showed up on Harry’s ship just like usual and told him that you wouldn’t be going back. Harry had been talking about a friend of his, Uma, and how she was forming a crew of her own larger pirate ship. You wanted in, and he couldn’t be more delighted to take you home.

You think you replayed the memory of him introducing you to Uma about a thousand times over in your head, and you’ll do it again tonight. The slats of the dock had been slippery under your feet, but you knew that so long as he was by your side, you would never once fall. Uma had looked at you questioningly, blue-green hair cascading down her shoulders, but Harry had hardly been able to tear his eyes away from you.

“This is Y/N,” he’d said, “she’s my friend.” He’d imbued the word with all the hope and grief and joy you could ever possibly attach to such an idea. Harry smiled as he said it, took your hand, let his eyes open comically wide so you’d know he was just joking when he mentioned that he’d jump overboard if Uma didn’t take you on.

Luckily for him, Uma had no problems with you. She saw something in you, the same sort of restless troublemaking spirit the rest of them had in spades. Before you knew it, you were quite literally learning the ropes of how to help out on Uma’s ship.

From there on out, everything was perfect. You watched the sun rise and set from the deck of a ship you could call home. When the weather was good, you spent all night and day out in the grasp of the world, and when the storms raged on, you hid belowdecks with the best friends you’d ever had. They wanted you, not your mother in a younger form, but you. Just you. It was wonderful.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you would end up falling in love with Harry. You were hurtling towards that fate as fast as you could, running and sprinting towards the inevitability of it all. No one compared. No one had half as much influence over you as him. And, when he finally managed to tell you how he felt, you thought you might be able to take over the entire world with the sheer force thrumming through your veins.

Perhaps you should have taken that as a warning. The universe doesn’t care much for happy endings, you’ve learned, even for its fairytale heroes. Princesses grow old and fade into obscurity. Princes forget how to save the day. Villains live out their days with fantastic dreams that will never be achieved. You learn how to deal with adequacy, and pretend that it is enough for you.

You loved Harry because he was wild, your untamed, brilliant boy, but then you hated him for it, too. Just once, you wanted to walk into a room and know what he was going to say before he said it. Every word from his mouth was a dagger in your chest. Some days, he was a hopeless romantic, others, he was mad and uncontrollable. He never hurt you, but at least the pain of a blow would be something you could depend on and understand.

Your mother tried to find you about a year or two after you took to the sea, and you used that as your excuse to break up with him. Harry found out you would be returning to Auradon at the exact same time as the rest of the crew. You think he might hate you for it still. You think he would have reason to hate you for a lot, actually, most importantly that you were never quite enough to match him.

So you slipped away from the ship with the worst kind of goodbye, one that you did not mean, and you never looked back. You greeted your mother and agreed when she said that it was time you took up your studies at Auradon Prep. You joined the endless number of would-be princesses and princes and pretended that it was all you had ever needed in life. If you woke up sometimes with the sound of waves crashing in your ears, or felt the steady rock of a ship beneath your feet as you dreamt, you ignored it. Such illusions only belong to the past, and they will never be yours again.

You still have a jacket of his in the corner of your room; you brought it all the way over here, anywhere you go. You never had the heart to give it back. You don’t know that you could if you tried. It still smells like saltwater and laughter and sun-bleached him, and you have absolutely no idea what you will do when that familiar scent fades.

Still, you weren’t able to completely erase his influence on you. Children of villains arrived at Auradon Prep, and instead of running away from them, you befriended them as quickly as you could. Mal thinks like you do, her and the rest. You laugh like them– not quite as polite as you should be, but loud and beautiful and real. You hang out with them all the time and, when they talk about how much they wish they were back on the Isle of the Lost, you lie to yourself that you do not agree.

You never told them the full scope of your exploits, but they know part of it, enough that one day Mal knocks at your door and tells you that she needs your help on a pirate ship. She needs to get something from the Isle of the Lost, a mysterious ingredient for a spell, but they have to keep it a secret so they can’t use the bridge. The next best option, then, is to sail. It’s not a far destination, so it would work.

A thousand memories of sun and surf flash through your head, and you find yourself agreeing before Mal can so much as finish trying to convince you to go along with her plan.

Mal blinks in surprise. “Really? You’re sure? I thought you would have mixed feelings about that time in your life.”

You breathe out slowly, trying to calm yourself. “Certain things scare me more than others.” Certain people, that is.

Mal winces as she leads you out of your dorm and back into the hallway. “Actually, we might have a problem with that.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Mal casts you a nervous glance. “Before I continue, remember that you already agreed. I’m not letting you leave now.”

You laugh. “I’m starting to get worried. No, Mal, I’m not backing out. Just tell me already.”

Mal holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Never doubted you for a second. It’s just, well, we don’t have a ship at our disposal, obviously, so we’re borrowing one from Uma.”

You shrug. “I have no problem with that. Uma’s great.”

“Yeah,” Mal says, drawing out her syllables in an attempt to buy herself time, “but she insisted on having a skeleton crew present. You know, to make sure we wouldn’t run aground or something like that. That includes her first mate.”

Your head snaps up. “Harry’s going to be there?”

You can feel Mal’s gaze on you, but you refuse to look at her. Instead, you’re scanning the hallway, every door you pass, sure that he’s going to be waiting for you, leaning casually against a wall or peering out of a window or somewhere you could find if you just looked hard enough.

“He is,” Mal confirms, “is that going to be an issue?”

Yes. “No, I’ll be fine.”

You can’t really tell if Mal believes you or not, but then you’re rounding the corner and the rest of the VKs are in front of you, and the conversation must be dropped as Mal explains her plan. You’re going to join the four of them and Uma’s guys in piloting the ship over to the Isle of the Lost, where you’ll search for a talisman hidden somewhere on the island. Once the talisman is secured, you’ll head back. Easy as that.

Mal leads your group to a boathouse on the southern part of the shore. You take up a position in a corner of the room, hidden by the shadows. You suppose that’s why the pirates don’t see you immediately when they come in a matter of minutes later. You suppose you chose that place on purpose so you could get a good look at Harry without him seeing you.

He looks just the same. You don’t know why you thought he would change, that he would have to look different to explain how different you feel, but he’s the same. It makes a soft smile rise to your lips at the same time as the weight of all your memories pierces you through the heart.

Uma’s talking to Mal, doubt lacing her every word. “I hope you have a good idea of how to run a ship, because I don’t think any of your friends have the slightest clue what to do on the sea. That’s my territory, in case you forgot.”

“I know,” Mal says, temper just as strong as always, “that’s why I brought a friend.”

Harry arches a brow. “What friend?”

“That would be me,” you say, and step out of the shadows to face him.

For a moment, you swear that time stands still. Harry’s breath catches in his chest as he looks at you for the first time in months. He has never been one to show off weakness, always laughing off injury or claiming not to feel pain, but in this instant, you can see the shock lancing through his eyes, wracking his frame until he has no choice but to stand there and stare.

Uma breaks the silence, wrapping an arm around your shoulders with a grin. “Y/N, good to see you! I take it back, Mal. Y/N could captain a fleet of ships with her eyes closed.”

It’s easy, after that, to pull yourself together. Uma’s friendship is something familiar, a rock you can stand on. “I appreciate your confidence,” you reply, “good to see you too, by the way.”

“Of course,” Uma says dismissively, then adds somewhat unnecessarily, “Hey, Harry, look who it is!”

Harry swallows hard when Uma addresses him, tries to pretend he’s just like normal. “Yeah, I saw. Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey yourself,” you say quietly.

Evie looks at you nervously, then quickly speaks up. “So, should we get to the ship? We only have so much time before people start looking for us.”

Uma rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you guys are too popular, I get it. Ship’s docked outside.”

Harry takes this as his excuse to bolt out, and you watch him go with wide eyes. Evie heads over to you as soon as everyone’s attention is off you again. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Perfectly fine,” you whisper back through gritted teeth. Of course it is a lie. You couldn’t be more affected by this.

You avoid Harry the entire duration of the trip over to the Isle of the Lost. It’s difficult, especially when you push off from the shore and the wind is on your face again and everything is just like you remember. You tug a few lines into place, tie them down with the knots he taught you, and race to the bow as soon as you’re free.

You forgot just how wonderful it is to sail. You laugh delightedly as the ship picks up speed, skipping over the waves as the wind snaps the sails almost to bursting. This close to the surface of the water, you can’t hear anything, but you sense something anyway, and that’s how you know to lean back up and look to your side to see Harry standing there, smiling as he takes in the sight of you.

Your laugh dries up in a moment and you feel frozen there, trapped in this moment with him. Someone calls your name a second later and you’re able to spirit away to safety, but you can still feel his gaze burning like a brand into your back every moment until the ship docks at the Isle.

Mal announces that you’ll be splitting up in pairs so you can properly canvas the island for the talisman. Before you can look at her or Evie, Uma suggests that you and Harry work together, and the rest are already partitioned into pairs before you can fight it.

Fine, then. You’re certain he’s put her up to this, but you won’t give him a scene if he wants it. Instead, you march resolutely towards your assigned location, and pretend that you’re just really invested in finding the talisman so you can’t hear him when he tries to talk to you.

Eventually, Harry has enough and puts his hand on your arm, trying to get your attention. You spin back around by reflex, dagger in hand and held to his throat before Harry can get so much of a word out. The Isle has always brought out a different part of you, more of a villain than any princess’ daughter.

Instead of looking afraid, Harry just laughs. Usually, this is the time at which you’d join in, but you narrow your eyes and hold strong.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he says when he’s finally able to get his laughter under control, “I don’t think your friends would like it very much if you killed someone on your little vacation to the island.”

You glare at him. “We’re not friends anymore, sweetheart, or have you forgotten that already?”

“When your knife is to my throat? Couldn’t forget that if I tried. Out of curiosity, why are we enemies again? I seem to remember you liking me very well just a couple of months ago.” Harry says, reaching up to tap your forearm where you still hold your blade.

You pull your dagger away but stand there still, thrumming with the urge to run. “We’re too different. You’re a villain, and I’m a perfect angel, obviously.”

Harry grins. “What, just because you’re the daughter of a princess? You’ve never let that come in between us before. You’re not Ariel, you’re Y/N, and I have always loved that about you.” Something like doubt flickers across his face. “Is that why you left? You thought you had to become more like her?”

You glance away from him, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “I left because I had to. We weren’t working out.”

“Why not?” Harry asks, and suddenly he’s the one in control now, he’s the one stepping forward until your back hits the wall and you have nowhere to run, “What was so wrong with us, Y/N?”

Your hands are shaking. Harry takes the knife from you, carefully sliding it back in the holster on your side. His hands linger there a second longer, and when he finally takes them away, you can’t tell if you’re glad of it or deeply unhappy that you can no longer feel him.

“We could never work,” you insist.

“Why not?” He replies, “Show me we could never work. Prove me wrong.”

Harry Hook has always been somewhat of an enigma to you, just as unpredictable as the sea that both of you love, but somehow you know it’s coming when Harry leans forward and kisses you. For a moment, you consider pushing him away, and then you realize that you do not hate this, not him, not in the slightest, not at all.

Surrender is not the worst thing in the world. Sometimes it’s like the release of a sail to the wind, the acceptance that even though you let a person go, they will always come back to you. You surrender the last of your inhibitions and you kiss him back. It is everything you missed, the fighting and the laughing, the good times and the bad all in one. It is all that you love about him and more, what you didn’t realize you held most dear until you were gone.

Harry breathes quietly against your lips and you breathe back, one small circle of in and out and together. He grins, says, was that really so bad? And you laugh and tell him to shut up, so he does, but only by kissing you again. The island can wait, the talisman and the life waiting back for you at school. You have your boy back, and you could not care about anything else.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @/thatfangirl42, @amortensie

#harry hook #harry hook imagines #harry hook x reader #harry hook oneshot #descendants #descendants imagines #descendants x reader #descendants oneshot #disney #disney imagines #disney x reader #disney oneshot #descendants harry #descendants harry imagines #descendants harry x reader #descendants harry oneshot

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danikamariewrites · 2 months

Note

i’m obsessed with rhysriel x reader👀👀 could i request hc’s where we get an insight into rhys and az’s relationship? Are they in love too? Or are they just mated to reader? And if they are in love, then was it a lotta jealousy st first or did they get along/ when did they realize that they were also in love🤭 also do they have fun times without reader?👀 i imagine reader just coming home one time and they’re making out or something on the bed/sofa and they ask if she wanna join but she just wants to watch

The Other Half

Rhysriel x reader

A/n: you really made me think here anon. Writing the lil romance between Rhys and Az was so cute, I was kicking my feet giggling writing this lol.

@amara-moonlight I hope you enjoy this babes 💖

Warnings: jealous/possesive Az & Rhys, throuple, and fluff (as always)

When the bond snapped for all three of you the boys were so happy to be with you

Rhys and Azriel discovered the bond between them shortly after it snapped with you. To say they were shocked was an understatement

I think Azriel had always loved Rhys but had kept it buried because it felt like he wasn’t supposed to, where Rhys had a few male lovers when they were younger so this wasn’t entirely new for him

The new bond between Rhys and Azriel was hard for them to navigate at first

They’ve always had love for each other, they just never realized how deep the love they had for each other was

Azriel would have a hard time with this since he’s so used to keeping his feelings inside. You and Rhys were always there to comfort him though, letting him know it’s ok and to talk through what he’s thinking

With the mating bond the two males felt like they had a lot to work through

After knowing each other for centuries Az and Rhys felt like they needed to reconnect

You helped them a lot to be comfortable as mates

The two males ended up falling in love as they fell more in love with you

Watching them openly love each other melted your heart

Your mateship wasn’t always easy at first. It was a rocky few months after the frenzy

Az and Rhys would get jealous and possessive with you

It was hard to navigate spending one-on-one time together with Az and Rhys

While they wanted to spend time together they spent more time mad at each other , trying to steal you from one another

Mediating between your mates sucked

And you never understood where the animosity came from! They always got along but the bond made their relationship unstable

At one point Rhys and Az didn’t talk for a week because their jealousy was so bad

Az had just come home from a mission on the Continent and just wanted to hold you and sleep

Trudging into Rhys’s office to debrief him, Azriel was met with Rhys holding you tightly to his chest while you lounged on his lap. The sight should’ve made him happy but all Azriel felt was rage

He could’ve easily just asked Rhys if he could spend time with you now that he was home. Rhys did have you alone for days at a time after all. Instead Azriel projected his annoyance down the bond to Rhys

That night they got into their first real fight. Yelling and shoving each other. They didn’t stop until you stomped out of the room screaming, “ILLYRIAN BABIES! GOOD GODS!” Followed by the slamming of your own bedroom door

For almost a week the three of you slept in separate rooms

You didn’t want to hurt their feelings or make it seem like you were picking sides. The whole thing gave you anxiety and made you close off your side of the bond. You were especially stressed when the boys would talk to you one at a time and never in the same room

It wasn’t until you broke down crying, begging them to speak that they realized their emotions were hurting you

“I am begging you, for the sake of our relationship, to fix whatever your issues are! If you don’t I’m not sure I can do this for thousands of years because it is killing me!” Azriel and Rhys felt their hearts break at your words and tears

Azriel and Rhys embraced you, apologizing profusely promising they would work things out

After a weekend at the cottage in the mountains Azriel and Rhys came back calm and so in love you were overjoyed

Rhys showed you parts of the romantic bits of their time away. Making each other food, reading together, their long talks and sleeping in each other’s arms

He also showed you the more…explicit moments (it made you a little jealous but they made up for it when they came home)

The first time you went out leaving them home alone after they were in love was weird for them at first. The cabin was different. You went to run errands alone. One of them always goes with you

It was getting late and Rhys was getting worried. Before Rhys could tap at your mental shields he could smell dinner being made

Rhys followed the scent into the kitchen, finding Azriel standing at the island prepping food. He’s wearing an apron that is definitely yours with his sleeves rolled up. There’s a bottle of wine on the counter from Rhys’s personal collection along with 3 crystal glasses. Rhys smiles at the simplicity of the scene in front of him

He leans against the door frame, “What’s all this?” Rhys says teasingly. Az smirked as his shadows swarm him in a panic that tells Rhys he was too early. “It’s been awhile since we had a nice dinner so I thought I’d cook.”

Rhys makes his way over to Azriel, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, love.” Azriel’s cheeks flush at the term of endearment. Rhys picks up a knife and starts cutting up the potatoes

Coming home from your errands you hear their light conversation and laughter. Dumping your bags by the front door you tiptoe to the kitchen, hoping Az’s shadows are distracted. You find your boys messing around, kissing, and just being happy cooking together warms your heart

You love seeing them love each other never gets old

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utilitycaster · 7 months

Text

Wizard Breakdown Tracker: Echoes of the Solstice

You know it, you love it, it may return on an as-needed basis for Campaign 3 now that Allura has entered the narrative and we know the fate of Caleb, but no promises: it's the Wizard Breakdown Tracker! As a reminder, I now include PCs because I make the rules; wizard NPCs are included on the very scientific basis of "do I have something I think is kind of funny or meaningful to say" so as always, if I left someone off, it was on purpose specifically to annoy you.

Astrid Becke: well her boss is missing, Caleb has expressed concerns in private to Beau about all of the Assembly, apparently the king is bedridden and has been for some time, and I suspect news of unsealed things being unsealed gets to her quickly; even if she isn't aware of the events in Blumenthal yet, she's about to be. Also, it's the apogee solstice. 8/10; ever the opportunist, it is a good time for her to try to become head of the Assembly, but also shit's gone real sideways.

Eadwulf Grieve: lost his title of hottest mage (men's division) to one Fjord Stone during the last Nicodranas County Fair and has been sulking ever since but more importantly the temple of the Raven Queen is doing Not Great Bob as of like an hour ago so a rare Eadwulf stress moment. 7/10.

Planerider Ryn: just lost her arm...but is unaware of it, so that's probably helping. technically cannot be calculated because she is a rock but spiritually like an 8/10 and that's only because she is remarkably unflappable; she just witnessed the Malleus Key and that should drive anyone up to a 10.

Allura Vysoren: has absolutely sensed a disturbance in the force weave and I'm sure Kima's feeling some bad vibes from Bahamut right now, but rather like Ryn she actually has some degree of sangfroid, a concept unheard of in the entire continent of Wildemount. 6/10.

Yussa Errenis: have you ever dealt with like, an ER Nurse, and unless something is actually exploding or someone is actually bleeding out they're like "yeah it be like that sometimes"? After you've been sucked into the Cognouza Hivemind while trying to do your silly little arcane investigations nothing short of the Calamity will ruffle you. He's an elf; he knows this solstice is wonky but also he knows this is Someone Else's Problem. Also Jester's left him alone for a whole 24 hours? Incredible. 2/10 and that's really just because he's still a little cranky about the disappearance of his blast scepter. As always: never change, king.

Prism Grimpoppy: by my calculations she's discovering that she's actually fucking incredible in combat right now. 0/10, she's doing GREAT.

Pumat Sol and sure, fuck it, Oremid Hass: I suspect the Zadash Wizard Contingent is dealing with some wild unsealed shit from the time of the Julous Dominion and they can't get in touch with anyone in the capital, but it's probably manageable. 4/10. On edge but not too bad.

Ludinus Da'leth: oh did your little plan to unleash the god-eater go a touch sideways? were you unprepared for the possibility of fucking all of magic? did you think it was going to be easy? did level 9 "Fuck Up Airship" and level 8 "Shield Against Werewolf" fail to save your bitch ass? As we've seen, he'll scramble and recover, unfortunately, but it's a well-deserved 9/10 right now. I love to see a plan fall apart.

Trent Ikithon: OH this motherfucker has LOST IT in prison. Like...he was able to put together a pretty elaborate situation, to be clear, but also he's gone bugfuck nuts and does not really improve. I think he's already broken down from the start having clearly been planning this exact scenario from the moment of his imprisonment honestly given that he appears to be going off of the frissons he picked up from Caleb and Essek shortly before he was captured, but regardless: he definitely ends it at a 10/10. Stuck in an egg for eternity, if he's even still a separate entity from Omentis. A well-deserved fate if ever there was one. Get fucked lol.

Veth Brenatto: hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha 10/10 you know she watched Luc leap through the teleportation circle as it closed and has been shrieking loud enough to be heard at the Chateau.

Luc Brenatto: the arrogance and naivete of youth insulate him initially, but Aggy's demise probably spikes it to a solid 6 minimum and it's definitely 9 during the battle. It goes back down pretty quickly though; see Caleb's entry.

Caleb Widogast: he keeps it together pretty well, honestly! Still I have to imagine he's kind of at a 7 or so this entire time with occasional spikes to 9 (NEIN) throughout, and I wouldn't fault him for finishing up the Blumenthal Brunch and then quietly locking himself in a soundproof tower room to scream, cry, and throw up for a while. Indeed, I would encourage it; Caleb should go have a good cry and hug a magic cat for a couple hours until he feels better, and then come back down to find that everyone except the clerics but DEFINITELY including Luc has implemented Spontaneous Apogee Solstice Oktoberfest to celebrate the demise of Trent, the engagement of Fjord and Jester, and the general experience of being alive, and is varying degrees of extremely wasted. This will of course bring him back up to like 7 as he realizes he has to return a hungover teenager to Veth and then goes down to a 4 or so when he realizes the clerics can fix that and Veth will probably be so glad that Luc is alive she'll ignore the rest of it.

Essek Thelyss: Our international drow of mystery looms large in the narrative, but does not make an appearance, which makes this premise extremely funny. I assume he's feeling kind of rough given that the Dynasty wizards are well-attuned to leylines and I would imagine he picks up that Sending isn't working and was broadly aware Caleb was going into danger, so he's certainly stressed, but Trent doesn't actually seem to know Where in Exandria is Essek Thelyss and is merely threatening blackmail. Honestly while we're at it, we don't know where Essek is because I wouldn't put it past Mr. Geometer Owner to have been at a solstice nexus and to have possibly experienced his own Solstice Shunting. In fact I assume Essek is blissfully unaware of these specific goings on re: Trent and is just experiencing The Anxiety for all of the previous reasons. (1d6+3)/10.

Known Gem Wizard Hotsauce Lutefisk: Hmmm. Things becoming unsealed, you say? The uninvited guest list (The Real Gelidon, Isharnai) for The TusktoothStone-Lavorre wedding may have gained an extra entry.

#i'm gelidon i'm the real gelidon and all the other gelidons are just shapechanging #critical role #critical role spoilers #wizard breakdown tracker #mighty nein #echoes of the solstice

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 month

Note

Hi!!

Could you find Sterek fics where Derek is multilingual or know Polish language?

Hola Anon! Si, tengo mucho.

Five Times Derek Failed To Tell Stiles How He Feels (+1 Time Stiles Knew Anyway) by WhoNatural

(1/1 I 3,338 I Teen)

Stiles grins, impish and proud, and scrabbles at another piece of his notebook. Derek is determined to ignore it - he really is, but Stiles’ legs are longer than they might seem and his reach includes the front leg of Derek’s chair.

He sighs, put-upon, and unfolds the note,

Wanna go steady w/ me? Y[ ] or Y[ ]

you know you're on my mind by bibliosexual

(9/9 I 16,371 I Teen)

If there’s one thing Derek’s learned in life, it’s that crushing on someone who lives on an entire other fucking continent is probably a bad idea.

I'm a War of Head Versus Heart by NieR

(5/5 I 23,091 I Explicit)

Being FWB with Derek Hale is great. Awesome, even.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, Stiles thinks he might have fallen in love.

And, well, shit.

Two Minutes for Holding by captaintinymite (augopher)

(18/18 I 121,498 I Explicit)

There were three things college hockey players Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski knew for certain. 1) Their lives revolved around hockey, 2) They were madly in love, and 3) Derek was so far in the closet he might never find his way out.

They'd been together for two years now, and for two years they'd been a secret with only a few people knowing about them. Yet Derek's fear kept them from moving forward: fear of his family's rejection, fear of his sexuality tanking his father's career, fear of the rampant homophobia in professional sports. The ruse was growing thin.

Something had to give.

Or: The story of how one epic NCAA Championship run and college, served as the backdrop for some of life's great hardships.

AND

@barleymowetc suggested this fic.

Put Down in Words by paintedrecs

(31/31 I 203,706 I Mature I Sterek)

“Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.”

“I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning.

“This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it.

When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.

Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #anon #polish!stiles #submission

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donaweasley · 1 month

Text

Promises to Keep

Pairing: Geralt x Fem!Reader

Plot:

Geralt is tasked with protecting a princess but his feelings keep poking at him, urging him to shed his tough armour and give in to his heart. But the witcher is a righteous man. He won’t succumb to his feelings so easily. Will he?

Some pining, some fluff that will lead to a “part 2” of this story.

Warnings: A bit of m.at.ure stuff. K.i.d.s better stay away!

Read time: ~15 mins

Note: This story has been based in a timeline before the fall of Cintra, and so, Geralt has not yet started his quest for Ciri. Oh, and he doesn’t fall in love with Yennefer. 😉

Prologue:

Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with many a difficult missions but the hardest of them all was probably not killing but protecting a person. That person was a princess whose parents had specifically called for Geralt to take their daughter under his wing as Nilfgaard marched towards their doorstep.

The princess could fight; she had been in battles but Nilfgaard had morphed into something entirely different from what the Continent had previously seen. It was as though Hell itself had poured into their army, leaving a trail of ash and blood wherever it went.

And so, turning all cries and protests from the said princess to deaf ears, her parents sent her away, in return of an assurance from her that, should their kingdom fall, she would come back and restore it to its glory, flying their banners from every nook and corner.

They knew she could, they had said.

The journey with Geralt had not been easy, moving from camp to camp, from inn to inn, not to mention the complications of his profession. But time gradually made things easier for them both, eventually bringing them to a point where they could comfortably pose as husband and wife so as to protect her identity, and avail a temporary shelter in a village.

And even though they were living a lie of being a married pair, their hearts often wished to forget reality, and enjoy the bliss of domestic life with one another. To be with each other unconditionally, forgetting all rules and boundaries.

But Geralt was a man of ethics, and she did not want him to bear the burden of guilt just because her stupid heart could not stop fluttering for this kind, brave gentleman with a heart of gold!

And thus, neither, for fear of straining what they already had, could ever utter their feelings to each other. After all, they had promises to keep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months ago:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She hurt herself on the thick leather armour as she flung her arms around his neck. But she did not care. That was a pain she would happily endure if it meant seeing Geralt at her doorstep safe and sound.

He smelled of sweat and blood and the swamp. He probably tasted like it, too. Alright, so what? The man returned after three weeks from the edge of the Continent. And perhaps from the edge of life. She couldn't care less about what he smelled or tasted like. But did he really…? She was very close to confirming her assumption - almost there - when Geralt suddenly remembered his place: the protector of the princess, a mere witcher.

“Princess,” the rich baritone vibrating in her ear woke her up from her purple dream. She could not help but lean back when she found her “husband” doing the same.

Geralt spread his arms slightly, and smiled with that usual softness in his eyes that came to the forefront only when she was around. “Safe and sound. Just like I had promised.”

“I am honoured!” She jested, and stepped inside, making room for Geralt to do the same.

“Give me a minute. I'll draw a bath for you. And once you have cleaned that mess off you, you'll have a warm dinner waiting,” she smiled and turned to make her way to the bath when Geralt gently but firmly held her wrist.

Neither could deny the spark that coursed through their veins at the contact. But neither would confess. Involuntarily, the witcher’s thumb made faint circles over her veins. Once he realised what he was doing, he slowly released her but their fingers lingered over the other’s before finally making some room between them.

Geralt pleaded with her to stop fussing over it all but the woman was ecstatic! Who could stop her from doing everything she could for the man she was falling in love with! Not even the strongest witcher.

And so, she hopped away to prepare a warm bath for him while he busied himself with the relieving task of removing his armour and weapons.

Geralt lay in the bath, pondering over the unsaid things that have been passing between the princess and him. Especially the ones that happened that evening. They had never been this close before, and it only made his breath shallower every time he thought about it. His mind wandered away unleashed every time his drunken heart slipped into fantasies of what could have happened had he not pulled away from her embrace…or what might happen if he allowed himself a bit more liberty with his feelings…

A gentle knock on the door startled him, bringing him back to the reality of the small room lit by two candles, back to the fact that the woman living under the same roof with him was his mission, not his real wife, as the villagers knew her to be. There was no way a witcher could dream of having a wife and a family, let alone with a princess!

“Need anything?” The voice was gentle, happy…it was caring. It made Geralt smile to think that someone cared so deeply for him, that he was actually having a domestic life, even though a fake one.

“Your company would be nice,” he quipped.

Geralt grinned wickedly. He did not need to see her to know the blush creeping up her ears and cheek.

Over the months their relationship - real or fake, whatever that was - had built into a strong bond, one that was made of cares, banters, challenges, huffs (and not just from the witcher), puns of all kinds and fluttering heartbeats. And though neither backed down during the banters or the puns, either one of them definitely ended up with blood rushing up their cheeks.

(Y/N) bit her lip and rolled her eyes. Two could play this game. Taking a deep breath, she cracked the door open. It startled Geralt, and she could tell it without seeing his wide eyes and parted lips.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about from your adventure?” She slowly walked in, eyes straining to look anywhere but at him.

She did not receive an immediate response. How could she! Geralt was spellbound by the boldness of this woman! It was inspired by his own recent boldness, perhaps, he wondered.

He cleared his throat, “Indeed.”

She picked up a small wooden stool, and sat with her back to him. “You were saying?”

“I would detail everything but are you sure you can stomach all that? And before dinner?”

Glimpses from his previous tales crept back, and she gulped at the gory imaginations that his words had painted in her head. Perhaps she could not. But would she confess? No!

“I’m tougher than you think, witcher.”

This was their usual way of addressing each other: “Witcher”, with a sarcastic stress in the middle of the word, and “Princess”, with a vanity enveloping the word.

When they had set out for their journey, she had requested him not to call her “princess”. “I have a name, and I would like to be addressed by it,” she had insisted. But Geralt had decided on maintaining his propriety.

When asked whether he would like to be addressed as Geralt or Witcher, he had simply mumbled, “Whatever you like, Princess.”

“Witcher it is then.”

And that has ever been going on, until recently when some rare moments witnessed them addressing each other by their names, and not what they were to the world.

In the small bathroom now, she heard a slosh behind her, signalling the rise of the large man from his bath. She tried her best to stop her shameless mind from picturing his wet body, dripping with water as he stood and stepped out of the tub, as he reached for the towel nearby and dried himself with it before wrapping it low around his waist. But the quiet of the night made sure that every little sound and movement reached her ears, leaving her a slave to her unabashed imagination.

Geralt grunted, the sound coming from right above her head.

“I know you can’t take it…Princess,” the last word was practically breathed on the shell of her ear.

Leaving her a total mess, Geralt sauntered out of the bathroom with a promise to indulge her in his stories after dinner.

That night, in the faint light of the moon, nimble fingers traced the contours of the witcher’s face as he slept - brows slightly arched, lips parted, face as serene as a dawn in Spring. She watched him breathe peacefully, devoid of the cares of the world, until a small smile cracked at a corner of his mouth. With eyes still closed, he placed a hand on hers and brought it to his lips. A chaste kiss was all it was, and yet it had her heart thundering. He had never - ever - shown any affection other than soft looks and gentle smiles.

“Sleep princess,” he rasped in a sleepy voice.

He opened his eyes once, to watch her smile at him, before holding her hand snuggly and drifting back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present day:

The sound of the door cracking open brought her back to the present. Quickly slipping a little more below the soapy water, she gripped the hilt of her sword.

It was Geralt. The moment he set one foot inside, his eyes went wide. It took him hardly a second to swing on his heels, to look away, but the sinful image had planted itself in his head. Probably for eternity.

“Pardon me. I…I did not know… I thought you were done. I just returned from outside; I did not notice that you were not anywhere else. I…”

“Geralt!” His name. She spoke his name! That, along with her soothing tone put an abrupt end to his string of stammering apologies. “It’s alright. I know you had no ill intentions.”

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet for a couple of seconds, he asked, “Do you need anything?”

Her lips stretched into a smirk as she recalled an old conversation that had occurred under very similar circumstances.

“Your company would be nice,” she quipped, just like Geralt had a few months ago.

The witcher recognised the joke immediately. A small smile escaped his usual serious features.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about your first kill,” he jested just like she had back then.

The sigh that filled the room made Geralt wonder if he had said something uncalled for. She was shaken by the incident but if she was making jokes now, she must be recovering. Right?

“(Y/N),” Geralt called without looking at her, “are you alright?”

“No, if truth be told,” came the confession.

He understood. Keeping his gaze focused on the floor, he took a few large steps until he was standing near the foot of the tub. In one smooth move, he was sitting on the floor with his back to her.

There was something about Geralt that made her feel protected all the time. Even in her most exposed and vulnerable state, she felt safe and comfortable with him around. And it was not just the love she felt for him. It was something else. It was something…very “Geralt”.

“The monsters we kill haunt our minds till long after. You never get used to it no matter how many kills you have made,” he sighed.

(Y/N) listened quietly. He was a man of few words, and at most times it seemed as though he was not even listening. But he always understood every single unexpressed emotion, every single unsaid word that she carried within her.

“Every time I close my eyes or every time I hear something, fear grips me,” she shivered at the thought. “You are right. I'm haunted by its memory, and … I cannot seem to shake the thoughts off. No matter how hard I try! I cannot even be courageous enough to convince myself that it is all in my head!” She slapped the water in frustration.

Unlike the witcher, killing monsters was not her profession nor did she volunteer for it. But what she did volunteer for was accompanying Geralt to a trip to the river caves for some herbs. Despite the witcher’s efforts to shield her inside the safety of their home, she managed to argue her way out of the proverbial safety net. Which is what led to the unforeseen event of her first close encounter with one of the many monsters that had become part of Geralt’s life. It also led her to, for the first time, being at the receiving end of Geralt’s fury for risking her life .

‘You were very courageous back there,” Geralt smiled at the memory of her driving her sword through the neck of the drowner, thus saving his own neck in the process.

“I had to be! Couldn’t just stand there and watch my favourite grumpy fellow die!” She jested about it but a shiver ran up her spine as she spoke. “It was disgusting, you know? I can still feel all the blood and slime on my skin.”

“It was also very brave. You saved my life!”

He had thought that his statement would make her proud but he was met with silence.

She spoke after a while. “You do know that I shall not be able to live anymore if something happens to you, don’t you? I shall only survive.”

Geralt’s heart suddenly felt very heavy in his chest. What she said was known information to him. Somewhere in his soul, he knew that she loved him. But to hear it aloud was totally unexpected.

“I shall be fine, princess,” he used his most assuring voice. “Do not worry about me.”

Unseen by him, a smile formed on her countenance. “I know, witcher.”

“Maybe we could talk about something else?” He suggested. “Take your mind off the monster?”

“Hmm… How is Jaskier?” She suddenly asked.

Geralt almost turned his head towards her in surprise. Almost. She was naked, having a bath, and the first “something else” that came to her mind was the bard??

“Jaskier?” He asked. “You wish to talk about Jaskier now?”

“Well, you wanted to talk about something else!”

Was that jealousy that she was sensing in his huffs? She hoped it was.

“He must be fine. I do not know.” He ended the topic as quickly as it had begun.

“Hmm.”

The princess laid her head back on the tub and closed her eyes. There was a comfortable silence. So comfortable that she did want to leave, did not want to do anything that might disturb the moment. Even though it was getting late. Even though Geralt still had to wash himself.

Geralt still has to wash himself! Shit! He must be hungry!

Her eyes shot open. “I’m sorry, I forgot you have to wash up, too! I shall be quick.”

The sudden splash of water pulled Geralt out of his own reverie, inadvertently causing him to turn around so as to ask her not to hurry. But the sight before him left him speechless. It was fortunate that she was too busy to see him else he would never have been able to face her in shame. Geralt turned back and shut his eyes as soon as he snapped out of his trance. But that did nothing to erase the image imprinted in his mind. Not that he wanted to.

She had pulled herself up slightly, as she tried to reach for the towel on the nearby stool. In the light of the candles, her body glowed golden as water cascaded off every curve of her body… down the side of her neck, her shoulders, two perfect globes that highlighted particularly well in the candlelight, perky nipples that had hardened in the water, the beginning of a lustful waist…

He did not hear her step out of the tub, did not hear the rustle of clothes as she got dressed, no. His mind was replaying the same thing over and over again. There was an evident twitch somewhere down his body. He faintly heard something about dinner and changing the water. The creak of the door pulled him back.

“I shall…” His voice was hoarse. “I shall change the water. You may leave.”

The change in his mannerism surprised her but then both his voice and attitude were gravelly most of the time. With a small “alright”, she exited, leaving him to his thoughts.

Dinner was quiet as Geralt tried to suppress the feelings bubbling inside him. He wanted to look at her and lose himself in her eyes. He wanted to tell her how he felt. Wanted to show her what it meant to unleash months of bridled love that he had been carrying within his entire being. He wanted to…

Gods! There were so many things that he wanted to do. But every time he talked himself into taking one step forward, his reality made him take two steps back.

And so, once again, he retired to bed without telling her anything at all about the whirlwind in his heart.

Geralt woke up sometime in the middle of the night, sensing some movements near him. Once sleep stopped fogging his senses, he realised that it was (Y/N) tossing and turning beside him in her sleep. Not only was she being restless, she was mumbling something incoherent that only got louder with her movements. It hardly took him a couple of seconds to realise that she was having a nightmare!

Geralt tried to wake her up: called her name, shook her. But she was trapped deep in her own head. He thought he heard something like his name but could not be sure. Seeing his efforts go in vain, he took her face in both hands and shouted her name while shaking her once more. He wasn’t sure if it would work but luckily, it did. With wild eyes she stared at him, as if trying to figure out where she was, trying to put up a wall between her horrid imagination and sweet reality. When she finally came around, she threw her arms around Geralt’s neck, causing him to tumble to the mattress with her below. Once again, he fought with himself as a wave of relief washed over him, eventually crashing into a strong desire to keep her encased in his arms and caress her for the remainder of the night.

“I dreamt that you were…” she almost sobbed. “That I had…” She couldn’t bring those bitter words to her tongue.

Geralt understood.

“You will never lose me. I shall always be by your side. I promise.”

In the dark veil of the night, in those weak moments, he made her a promise that even he did not know how he would keep, for she would be married to some royalty some day; she would have to go away, leaving him with his solitude and monsters. He could not keep her to himself nor could he watch her be with somebody else.

But that was a worry for another day. Right then, she was in his arms, and no one else’s. Even if for a moment, she was his. He lay on his side and pulled her to his chest. A hand cradled her head, drawing soothing lines through her hair, until her warm breath on his skin had become stable.

Geralt never seeked help or answers from the gods; he did not believe in them. But as he kissed the crown of her head that night, his lips prayed for her safety and happiness, and if possible, for her to be bound to him for eternity.

He knew he was being selfish. He did not know who heard his prayers or even if there was someone who might hear them. But he whispered them anyway, believing that it was the only way to make his wishes come true.

***

#geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n

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milky-aeons · 3 months

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𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋

౨ৎ . . . in which a demon realises he can, in fact, love after all.

warnings: female reader, ballerina!reader, pregnancy, childhood, estranged/separated parents, w.c 1.4k

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, who was granted the alias demon from his enemies. A man capable of staring death directly in the eye and laughing, inviting him for a cordial game of chess. Such a monster had no plans to procreate. It was a miscalculation — that night he had spent with one of the ballet dancers from the Bolshoi Theatre when he was barely but a man. Even at eighteen, Fyodor Dostoevsky knew he was a heavenly messenger sent to carry out God's will. What was a little fun to be had before he did?

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, three years later, halfway across the sea in a foreign country standing at the Yokohama Portside. In his gloved hands was a page, a single page, worn from weathering the onslaught of its travel to him. His eyes had already scanned the Russian cursive once, twice, a hundred times over. There were very few things that left the Demon Fyodor speechless in this world. But those words, those four little words;

𝐹𝓎𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓃. 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, who was initially going to write this surprise off as just that — a surprise. A miscalculation. For they were always probable in every endeavour; were what made the grand game so very fun, indeed. He had much larger ambitions to conquer. So it was a shock, when the lead members of the Decay of Angels could not locate him at their hideout the very next day. He had said he would be there. Instead, there was a note speared into the concrete wall in his stead — one that announced his impromptu travels to Russia, with no date of when he would return.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, who didn't really expect anything from this world so foul and dull. To carry out God's will meant removing oneself from their species, casting your emotions aside, your humanity. And yet, as he approached the same ballet house he had met you in three years into the past, his breath was coming out a little quicker. Impatient, expectant? He was not attached to anyone — he couldn't be. But to have a son, to be a father?

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who looked just as beautiful as the first night he had met you. Your eyes were no longer haunted with the pressures of other's expectations. Now, they were clear. And there were also two identical pairs of them. Fyodor stared at the little creature who blinked owlishly up at him from where he sat on the floor — his hands balled around a stuffed animal, chewing at its' ear. This thing; it had the same jet-black hair as his in wild little tufts about his crown. He had Fyodor's eyebrows, the almond shape of his eyes. He took one look at the child that was meant to be his and felt something shift inside him, and also, something break.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who was nervous but apprehensive to allow your son near the man who stole your heart so easily in the past. The streets didn't lie — you had heard about his criminal activities, even this far into the continent, people spoke of his name in rushed, fearful whispers — as if the walls were his messengers. But every time you looked at your son, you were reminded of him. And staring at him now, the resemblance was uncanny. Your boy continued to gawp at his father with wonder, with not so much as a shred of fear for this so called Demon.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, who took some time to hold his son in his arms. To hold him meant to accept this truth, to feel his warm little body and know that indeed, he had a son. And the first time, it was by complete accident. The little boy had an awful penitence for mischief, just like his father. In one moment, Fyodor had noticed him wobbling on the top of a rickety set of bookshelves. In the next, there was a snap, a cry, and his entire body had moved by itself. He caught the small bundle in his outstretched arms. To thank him, the boy reached up to tug on one of his long hairs.

"Such a little trouble riser, you are." He had scorned, but the corners of his lips had curved into a smile.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who watched a change in Fyodor Dostoevsky over the next coming weeks. He became softer around the edges. He stuck around. His eyes weren't as impenetrable and distant. You would wake up at sunrise with the intent to prepare some breakfast for your little boy, only to find him already there, sitting cross-legged with his son in the living room and sharing some roughly cut apple. Or during the night when you must put him down for bed — Fyodor was already there, capable of telling when exactly his son wished for sleep. Sometimes, you'd hang around the doorframe and watch as he placed the boy into his bed. So gently, so unlike him, as if he knew he held the entire world in his hands.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, who entertained his son through slight-of-hand. Whether it be by hiding small candies underneath three cups and shuffling them around, pulling a coin from behind his ear, making his favourite stuffed animal disappear only to reappear on his bed right before sleep. There was a certain unique reaction he'd get from the boy — like he was always seeing the same tricks for the very first time. Fyodor did not feel amused, nor did he feel typical paternal love, but he did wait for the day where his son grew older so he could teach him all his little tricks, too.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, who chose an isolated canopy in the ballet house to play a long-forgotten cello — perhaps once belonging to a choir that performed here. He'd glide the bow across its strings, producing a melancholy tune. But then, the door would creak open, and in the little creature would crawl. Fyodor would stop playing when he noticed his sudden audience — eyes similar to his staring up at him in wonder. And, completely unbidden, Fyodor found himself composing a different piece. Lighter, chipper beats that took inspiration from my little sunshine. His son would laugh and clap his hands, singing his own song in broken words and sounds. Fyodor would reply;

"My, it shall not be long before you're up on the stage, too. Right beside your mother."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who invited Fyodor on a walk with just the three of you. Your son in the middle, you and your parted lover on either side. It had snowed that day in Russia — and your son took great delight in stomping big, messy holes wherever he walked.

"Won't you stay?"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who hadn't meant to say those words. You knew, deep down you knew this man could never be the father you wanted him to be. You stood on two different planes of the universe; orbiting this little boy that kept you both still connected. But you had seen something in him these past few weeks. Perhaps it was just a fabrication of your own desires. But for those few little days, Fyodor Dostoevsky had come back to you, he had been a constant, he had been a father.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, who didn't say anything right away when you spoke those words tinged with such hope. He kept his eyes distant towards the snowfall. His attention, however, could not be distracted for long. There was a tugging at his long coat's edge, a face smaller than his own but no less similar peering up at him.

"Stay, Dada," The little boy said. "Stay and play in snow!"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, who's lips softened into a small little smile. He couldn't stay, not yet. But maybe one day he could have this. When his work was done, when he could finally turn away from the weight on his shoulders of such humanly sin. The Demon, however, was reminded that in moments such as these, humanity could also be quite beautiful.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑, who bent down to pick his son up under the arms and hoisted him into the air. The child shrieked in glee, and Fyodor said;

"I'm afraid I can't stay to play in the snow this time. But one day, I will. I'll come back to you and watch how you've learned to fly, moy malenki angel."

➸ мой маленький ангел/moy malenki angel : Russian, to mean 'my little angel'.

✎ . . . requested by lovely nonnie!

WRITING REQUESTS

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bsd fanfiction #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor bsd #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #🎋 — writing requests #dividers by firefly graphics!!

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ganondoodle · 6 months

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seeing all the crazy stuff people build in totk kinda ... it feels like that is also a factor in why it turned out like this, like the insane things people did in botw and the (i keep saying devs when i actually mean the directors .. producers?) directors saw it and build totk just around letting people do it all 100 times more

to be clear, i think its impressive as hell what some people build (i just saw like .. a movie scene with a functioning mech gozilla and tanks made with totks building stuff ... what the fuck) and those things go pretty viral (understandibly so) but i also gotta question

as creative, free, and impressive as it is ... should that have been the focus in a zelda game? like .. is building mechas and tanks like that something that should be in a zelda game? can it be in there without inevitably sacrificing so much else? theres building games just for that? and if you want to make it zelda themed you can make it a spin off?

like i get it, people did crazy things in botw, they saw what people had fun with and dialed it up to a 1000 in totk, which in itself is not bad, even pretty good if you consider gamedevs and feeback and all that bc in general you should embrace what people had fun with in your game even if it wasnt the intent, given that nintendy listens to feedback (perhaps even a bit too much at times) and creative solutions was a central point to botw design philosophy but

i feel like totk kinda .. missed the balance?

if its really a reason why totk is build around enabling that in a purely player centered toy box kind of way without it actually mattering in the story .. or even themes ... was it worth it? not to sound like an oldschool boomer tm but in a franchise that iconic, lore and story focused, should you really abandon nigh all lore/story cohesion just to give the player a big box of toys in a world where i feel that doesnt ,, really belong? in a direct sequel in the same world with the same characters no less? that point is perhaps the biggest issue with it, bc again lots of games even if somwhat a sequel, had strange new tech or things in the world but in all of those cases it was some alternative universe, millenia after the other game, or on an entire different continent; while totk is supposedly just a few years after botw in the very same hyrule

(still doesnt explain the erasing of all shiekah things and replacing it with sonau- tho suddendly revealing the shiekah had actual rockets, wheels with suspension and grenade-launchers, might have been confusing too- you could have enabled the player creativity with shiekah too imo, and personally i would have found it way more fun ... lil guardian leg crawlies ..)

having thought about it feels rather logical why they did it in alot of ways, but also ... totk is build around it, while its also not build around it at all- its build around the PLAYER, not the world, not the story, not the theme, not the character, but YOU (especialyl those that dont realyl care about anythign story or lore stuff and just want to have fun with the gameplay loop, which isnt wrong, but i question whether thats the right kind if player to center in a zelda game .... also not saying all of those that build these crazy things are like that but- ... i hope you know what i mean)

(i know games are always build around the player, or should be, but .. do you get what i mean????? playing in a world that doesnt make sense anymore bc its all a box of toys yeeted into my face isnt fun to me, bc im here not only for gameplay fun but for the world .. theme .. characters, its something that has to be harmonical as a whole for me and totk just .. isnt)

i say it alot but i do really mean it, its very difficult to get my thoughts and feelings written out and to have them come across correctly

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #ganondoodles rants #maybe i need to stop doing these rants #even about the little stuff #at this point it probably seems like im just finding another detail JUST to rant about it #its a struggle between being so .. SO frustrated with this game and trying to understand WHY it is like this #be assured tho my ranting days are pretty much over at this point #i have gone about pretty much all my points #tho i guess sometimes there will be more little things #...........or more interviews that get released....

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 5 months

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Make Me Feel Alive Episode 3

Gilbert von Obsidian's Birthday Story

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

On Gilbert's birthday, there was an unusual tension hanging around the castle.

(Is his birthday really taboo?)

(No one talks about it, and no one's preparing a celebration.)

As I whisked the cream into the bowl, I couldn't help but think about it.

(I always thought it was normal to celebrate birthdays.)

(But I guess not for him.)

------------Flashback-----------

Gilbert: "Will you also celebrate my birthday at the risk of your life?"

Emma: "........"

Gilbert: "Even if it's you, I might still find it unpleasant."

---------Flashback Ends--------

(He really meant those words.)

(If my expectations are wrong, things could get really messy.)

My heart raced so rapidly that it seemed like it might burst out at any moment. Even my hand holding the bowl was trembling.

(No, I need to be more confident.)

(I'm his fiancée, so I gotta keep it together.)

Taking a deep breath to dispel the anxiety and tension, I unconsciously resumed what I was doing.

Emma: "I wonder if he'll be happy."

???: "Mhm, it's really delicious."

Emma: "!?"

I turned around and saw Gilbert already devouring the sponge cake.

(What the hell? When did he get here!?)

Gilbert: "Come on, don't stop. If you don't keep your hands moving, I'm gonna eat everything."

Emma: “Wait, please don’t eat it!”

(The cake will be gone before it’s finished!)

Hastily taking the sponge cake from him, his refined face twisted into an unhappy expression.

Gilbert: “Do you really have to do that?”

Emma: “If I run out of sponge, I won’t be able to make the cake.”

Gilbert: “It was delicious as it is.”

Emma: “Even if it’s delicious, it won’t be enough!”

Gilbert: “Ehh? I prefer quantity over quality.”

Emma: “I’ll bake a lot of cookies later, so can you please let this slide?”

Emma: “I really want to prioritize the quality of the cake. I want to make this birthday cake special.”

Gilbert: “Hmm. You’re really brave.”

He brought a chair over and sat down, looking up at me intensely.

Emma: “This is just my speculation, but I don’t think you don’t want your birthday to be celebrated.”

(Since he’s the one who told me about his birthday.)

Emma: “It’s just that you hated lies.”

Emma: “On a special and important day, you couldn’t tolerate it being tainted with corruption and deception.”

Emma: “I thought maybe that’s the case.”

(His mother and older brother were kind to him in the past.)

(Those two surely celebrated his birthday when he was young.)

(But that day will never come again.)

(The only people left around him were the corrupted aristocrats.)

Gilbert: "Fufu. As expected, you really love me."

Gilbert rested his hand on his chin and laughed briskly.

Well, he was right.

Gilbert: "Will you really celebrate my birthday wholeheartedly?"

Emma: "Of course."

Gilbert: "I've killed many people before, and I might kill many more in the future."

Gilbert: "Would you still celebrate it and support me if I continue executing those who wish me a happy birthday?"

Emma: "........."

I felt like he was testing my determination.

(Birthday celebrations are a way to say thank you for being born.)

(It's also a day to hope that you will continue to live.)

Celebrating the birthday of a notorious villain who shook the entire continent is not something one can do half-heartedly, and those who celebrate might, in a way, bear a certain burden of guilt.

Emma: "Yes."

(Even though he might be an irredeemable villain, I want him to find redemption.)

(Despite his numbness to human feelings, I believe he has the most beautiful heart in the world.)

Emma: "Even if you've turned the whole world against you, I'll still celebrate."

Emma: "I'm already a pretty bad woman just by being here, so it's too late now."

Emma: "Please don't underestimate my feelings for you."

(It's his birthday, yet it's hard to even genuinely celebrate.)

(This is the price he has to pay for his position and for seizing control of the evil empire.)

(Celebrating a birthday with such determination to the point of risking one's life is a first for me.)

Gilbert: "Fufu, sorry. I might have teased you too much."

(Huh?)

He stood up from his chair and reached out to touch my eyes.

His cold fingertips scooped up a single drop of tears that even I hadn't noticed.

(I hate this. I didn't mean for it to be like this.)

(However, I can't help but wonder how many years he has suppressed his birthday to protect his memories from being tainted.)

I forcefully wiped my tears and peered into his red eyes.

He was smiling as usual, but I was surprised to see a noticeable wavering that made my heart ache.

(No, these tears aren't mine.)

(He's the one who really wants to cry.)

(I wonder what he has been thinking about every time his birthday comes around.)

(I'm sure he was lonely at first, but then he probably forgot how lonely he was and didn't feel anything anymore.)

(But now he remembered the loneliness. Is that why he told me about his birthday?)

With an overwhelming impulse, I reached for his cold cheek and lightly kissed it.

Gilbert: "What is it?"

Emma: "I can't give you the cake right away, so here's an alternative gift."

Gilbert: "It's rather shabby for a present."

Emma: "Then, how about this?"

I placed the bowl on the table and wrapped my arms around his neck.

Then I kissed him deeper than before, and he bit me hard on the lip.

(Ouch!)

Thankfully, there was no blood, but the bitten spot throbbed as he licked it with his tongue.

With this, he took control, overpowering the initiative I had held.

His cold fingers pried open my lips and gently devoured my tongue.

Feeling weak, I leaned against the worktable, and he lifted the hem of the black dress he gave me, forcibly inserting his fingers into my inner thigh.

Emma: "Gil, it hurts."

Gilbert: "Yeah, I'm doing it on purpose."

Emma: "Why?"

Gilbert: "Because you don't like pain."

(You're really saying that?)

The pain quickly turned into another sensation as his fingers worked inside me.

It was like a mark of affection that Gilbert used to engrave on my body every night.

(That's why I can't hate it.)

Gilbert: "See, you're already enjoying it."

Gilbert: "By the way, this is the kitchen. Aren't you going to stop me?"

With a squelching sound, his cold fingers increased to two.

Just before my mind was about to go completely blank, he stopped, and I unconsciously let out a sigh.

Emma: "Just for today."

Emma: "No matter what you do, I'll endure it if that's what you want."

Gilbert: "Because it's my birthday?"

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his head, pulling him close to my chest.

Emma: "I won't lie to you."

Emma: "So until you feel at ease, feel free to continue as much as you want."

Emma: "I want you to know that I genuinely want to celebrate your birthday."

Emma: "I'll keep telling you until you believe it, no matter how much it hurts."

Gilbert: ".........."

Gilbert: "What? So you already figured it out?"

(As expected, there's always a reason behind his threats.)

Emma: "You're probably much easier to understand than you think."

Gilbert: "I think those are words only someone who faces me head-on can say."

Gilbert: "It's really a pity to be liked by a troublesome man like me."

He suddenly laughed and bit my neck.

(Erasing all the suspicions built up over the years might be difficult, but if I can convey that he won't be lonely on his birthday, that alone would be enough.)

While enduring all the pain and pleasure he gave me, I somehow managed to finish the cake.

After celebrating together, we naturally embraced each other's bodies.

After being thoroughly teased during the day, my body immediately welcomed Gilbert, and all that remained after we reached the climax was the sound of our heartbeats.

Gilbert: "Fufu. Your heart is still pounding."

Emma: "I can hear the sound of your heartbeat too."

Wrapped in each other's arms with nothing between us, the sound of our heartbeats resonated.

(His heartbeat is proof that he's alive.)

(I want to feel this every time I celebrate his birthday.)

When I put my arms around his back, he slightly furrowed his eyebrows.

(There are scratches on his skin.)

Emma: "Sorry. It's probably because of me."

Gilbert: "It's fine. I like it when you hurt me."

Gilbert: "It would've been nice if you left not only scratches but bite marks as well."

His fingers traced along my arm, where the bite marks were.

(Not just the arms. I feel like I was bitten all over today.)

Emma: "It's difficult because I don't know how to control my strength like you do."

Gilbert: "Then let's learn together. Shall we master it by my next birthday?"

Emma: "You'll celebrate with me again next year?"

Gilbert: "Who knows? Whether it will be the last or the first is up to you."

Gilbert: "If you love me a lot, I might change my mind."

Emma: "........"

Gilbert: "But your celebration this year wasn't unpleasant."

Gilbert: "Thank you."

Emma: “.........”

(I’m gonna tear up.)

(I might start crying again if I let my guard down.)

He smiled and gently stroked my hair. His expression was more readable than usual, possibly because the eye patch was off.

Emma: “Then, how about inviting Roderich and Walter to the party next time?”

Emma: “I’m sure both of them really want to celebrate your birthday.”

Gilbert: “That’s not happening.”

(Not happening, huh?)

Gilbert: “I don’t need other people’s celebrations. As long as I have yours, that would be enough for me.”

Gilbert: “Because I only love you.”

Emma: “I’ll shower you with lots of love, so please let me celebrate next year, too.”

Gilbert: “Fufu, got it. As long as you’re you, I’ll let you celebrate.”

Gilbert: “Continue loving this beast with your pure heart, okay?”

Episode 1 ╎ Episode 2 ╎ His POV

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri translations #cybird

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lloydfrontera · 5 months

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i think my issues with the canon romance at the end can be summarized by that competition alicia holds to win lloyd's hand.

she's like 'oh your new body sucks you need to marry someone who can protect you 24/7' so she holds a tournament to find the strongest woman in the continent and marry him to her so he'll have built-in bodyguard. which is objectively the funniest thing she could've done i love her so much. but. like. it's so unnecessary, redundant and also just,,,, factually incorrect??? ajdhka god lemme explain

here's how alicia puts it

but,,,, lloyd already has a bodyguard who's at his side 24/7. like. that's very much a plot point of the entire novel. there's literally a character who's arc is about coming to care about lloyd above anything else and deciding to stay at his side for the rest of his life to protect him. like. that's very much a thing that happened. it literally takes us 320 chapters to get to that point why are you acting like you're doing something new here

a swordsmanship competition. to decide who gets to marry lloyd. remind me what character have we spent the entire novel being told and shown over and over and over again is the most powerful and strongest swordsman in literally the entire world???

right. but he can't participate. because he's not a woman. which i think it's the point to this rant.

i don't think i need to spell it out but i'm gonna anyway.

the only reason javier isn't the one to end up with lloyd is because he's a man. because even by the in-universe made up requirements he's the most qualified one to do so, except that he's not allowed to even participate because he's not a girl.

and y'know what's the extra thing that just. makes me go a little insane because it's the one detail that makes me doubt for one second that all of this wasn't just pure chance or coincidence and instead is bk moon taunting us. y'know what it is.

what character is the only one who canonically can and has passed for a woman with no issue whatsoever in a seemingly out of nowhere gag that never comes up again. do you remember.

right. yeah.

so we have,,, a character who is devoted to our main character and has sworn to protect him for the rest of his life with everything he has, who is the strongest swordsman in the entire world and who can easily pass for a woman.

and then the main character is supposed to marry whoever wins a competition to decide who gets to protect him for the rest of his life, who is the strongest swordsman in the country and where only women are allowed to participate.

and i'm not supposed to read anything into that.

okay. i feel like i'm going crazy this is me right now

but seriously. this little tidbit that was probably just meant to be a joke about how alicia came to marry lloyd just,,, really highlights how unnecessary and redundant their romance feels to me

like. why would lloyd need to marry alicia. when he already has javier.

do you get what i mean

#i talk a lot <3 #tged #the greatest estate developer #tged spoilers #lloyd frontera #alicia magentano #javier asrahan #llojavi #again this is nothing against alicia! she's amazing!#her doing this is some actual queen shit #genuinely funniest way she could've done it #alas. i think actualy emotional build up is better for a canon relationship that just. jokes. but like. that's very much my own issue lol #ch 402

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epeboch · 7 months

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I really love worm, and it's infested my brain deeply since I read it. I was a teenager who related too much to alienation, and bullying, and the craving of some amount of power over anything.

It's a work that I think was deeply important in my growth into an adult person (which sure is embarrassing but that's okay) and I want to share it with people. Some of its just because I like it when I can talk to people about things I like that I normally can't but god, it's hard to recommend!

Its author is bigoted in an extremely specific manner, in the liberal 'i have so many unconscious biases that actually Aren't Bad because society agrees with me'.

He hates addicts, is homophobic, racist, and is deeply deeply committed to sharing a worldview with like, some annoying American foreign policy wonk.

I have a certain impulse to put these things in less brash language, and talk about how clearly wildbow's worldview includes some deeply deranged stuff about the global south (south america is a continent of criminals and africa is a continent of warlords), deeply sinophobic anxieties (china is an evil empire that's going to kidnap you for power) or queer people (it's pandering if the relationship isn't predatory, sorry how did you describe that schoolteacher's hands?). There's a million other things I haven't mentioned as well. The list never ends.

It's long, too, that never helps. 'oh here, please read the Bible so that I can talk to you about how much I love Michael, Homestuck so that I can talk about Rose Lalonde, etcetcetc'. Its a lot to ask!! And people have still done it!! And I feel bad about it!!

The front page of the parahumans site says something along the lines of 'this story has ever conceivable trigger, be wary' and it's true. It makes it so deeply difficult to recommend to my friends which are almost entirely made up of traumatized queer people.

The worst part is that they listen to all my stupid disclaimers and read it anyways. The worst part is that I've never recommended it to someone who didn't like it. The worst part about worm is that it's good.

#worm #wormblr #parahumans #this is a stupid post #and im a stupid poster #long post

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 5 months

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A Christmas Visitor - Modern!Jace Velaryon x Reader

Summary: Jace takes it upon himself to cheer you up for your first Christmas spent alone.

Pairing: Modern! Jace Velaryon x AFAB! Reader

Warnings: fluffy boyfriend Jace, profanity, blowjob, face fucking, degradation, mentions of masturbation (both f and m) (let me know if i missed anything out!)

Word Count: 1.92k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) this one is for those Jace girlies out there ;) I hope you enjoy!

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

It was set to be a lonely Christmas for you.

But honestly? You had no one to blame but yourself. You were the one who had decided to migrate to another continent entirely for university, whilst most of your friends had stayed in King’s Landing, or other parts of Westeros, including your boyfriend, Jace Velaryon.

But Braavos University was undoubtedly the best university in the known world to pursue a degree in economics, and when you had gotten the acceptance email, Jace had urged you to go, telling you that you would be an idiot if you passed up on the chance.

Braavos was a wonderful place: a melting pot of different cultures, interesting architectural structures, along with an intriguing history. You loved studying and living here, but at times, especially now, during the festive season, you especially missed home. You missed seeing Jace’s wonderful, handsome, smiling face, missed his kisses, his hugs, his warmth, his everything.

In a video call with your boyfriend a few days ago, you had expressed how much you’d missed him, and he had given you a sad smile in return.

“I miss you too, honey,” Jace said earnestly, covering his headphones’ speakers again when a loud noise erupted from behind him. You winced at the feedback from the mic. “Cregan, hey bud, mind keeping it down a little?” Jace called out. “I’m video calling my girlfriend here.”

“Sorry dude!” A manly voice that was most definitely not Cregan called back, and you had to stifle a laugh at Jace’s knowing, disgusted look. “Ugh, these animals, I swear,” Jace joked, turning his attention back to you. His expression softened. “Hey honey, I know it’s hard on you. I wish there was something I can do to make you feel better.”

You smiled, trying to cheer up a bit for his sake. “It’s alright, really. I’m doing fine here, I’m just being a bit mopey because I miss you and stuff.”

“Aww,” Jace blew you a kiss through the computer screen. “I miss you too, honey. Uni life just isn’t the same without you. But you are still coming back for summer break, right?”

You nodded, blowing back a kiss to him. “Yeah, of course I am. I can’t wait-“ A crash and a gruff laugh sounded from behind Jace, and Jace’s eyes widened as he turned back to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on. “Jace, buddy, I might need some help here!” A voice that was definitely Cregan groaned out.

“I’m sorry babe, I gotta go,” Jace said apologetically. “Trust those guys to get wild when I’m trying to call my girlfriend.”

“No, it’s fine,” you tried to stifle a giggle. “You’re like their mom, you know.” “Am not,” Jace pouted, before blowing you a kiss. “I’ll video call you on Christmas, alright? I love you, baby.”

“Love you too, Jacey.” You blew him a kiss back before your computer screen went dark, and you sighed, slumping back in your seat. Video calling him had somehow made you miss him even more.

But alas, such was life. When the morning sunlight streamed through your dorm windows on Christmas Day, you had already carefully planned out your day.

“Okay, so,” you tapped your pencil on your paper, filled with a list of the things you wanted to do. First, I go across the campus to get those delicious pretzels from Lancelot’s Bakery, then I head to the grocery shop to get myself some chicken to cook chicken Alfredo pasta for lunch. Then-“

A knock at your dorm room caused you to look up from your list, puzzled. Your dorm mates had all left for their own homes for the holidays, so who could that be? You set down your pencil, moving to open the door. “Yes-?” Your jaw dropped when you saw who it was standing outside the door.

“Jace!” You let out a cry of delight at your boyfriend’s warm, smiling face. The smile that you had missed so much.

“Hey, baby-“ Jace barely had time to finish his sentence before you launched yourself at him, jumping into his arms and kissing him hungrily. Jace nearly staggered under your weight, hands going to stabilise you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He savoured the taste of your lips, feeling you melt against him and nearly tearing up when you realised that he was real.

Oh, how he missed you. How he missed this.

Jace quickly brought you into your dorm room, kicking the door shut behind him as he didn’t break the kiss. He set you down on the edge of the desk that you were writing on, tongue tangling eagerly with yours. “Mmm, I missed you so much,” he mumbled against your lips, fumbling for the zipper of the shorts that you were wearing. “I missed your lips, your scent, your pussy…”

You let out a laugh, breaking the kiss to rest your forehead against his. “Someone’s eager, huh?”

“Don’t act like you aren’t,” Jace chided, chuckling as he pulled your shorts off. “Nearly six months without you has been absolute torture. I had to stroke my own dick almost every night for the first few months you know.” A pleasant shiver shot through you at the imagery: Jace stroking himself to the thought of you every day, groaning as he spilled himself in his hand.

“Sounds like I should make it up to you then,” you said slyly, pushing yourself off the desk and getting on your knees. Jace’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, radiant, rosy, glowing, down on your knees in front of him. Where you belong.

You made fast work of his jeans, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans and boxers down in one go. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight of his length, long and leaking with precum. You ran your fingers along the vein in his cock, teasing him, and Jace groaned, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Baby…don’t be a tease,” Jace’s voice was low, pleading. You simply laughed, looking cheeky as you debated on whether you should give him what he wanted.

Jace nearly saw stars when your hot mouth got to work on his dick, licking the underside of it, letting the precum collect on your tongue. His grip in your hair tightened. “Love…”

Slowly, you began to take his cock into your mouth. The loud, scandalous, squelching noise of you taking his dick inch by inch reverberated throughout your empty dorm room, making Jace grow even harder, if that was even possible. He had dreamt of this moment so many times for the last few months…

He made a low, strangled noise in his throat as you hollowed out your cheeks to accommodate even more of him, trying not to gag in the meantime. His fingers tangled even deeply into your hair, “That’s it, that’s fucking it. Take all of me in,” Jace encouraged you. “You can do it. You’re a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

Your answering nod caused your head to bob on his dick a little, and Jace moaned at the sight. He could just die happy now.

“Can I fuck your face, sweetheart?” Jace asked tenderly, but you knew that his tone of voice, while friendly, left no room for negotiation. So you only looked up at him with those adorable doe eyes, and nodded slightly. Jace smirked, pulling out a bit before thrusting himself back into your throat.

He continued to fuck your face, going slow and gentle at first, then his thrusts grew more and more erratic as he felt your hot little mouth envelop his dick just so perfectly. The sound of your fingers playing with your pussy as he face-fucked you however, drew him back to attention again.

“Hey,” he slapped your cheek lightly, getting your attention as you looked up at him with wide eyes, having been caught. “You’re not allowed to touch that pussy as I face fuck you.” Your expression of dismay almost made him feel bad.

Almost.

“No touching yourself, sweetheart. Or else I won’t let you cum later, you understand?” Your eyes teared up a little, and Jace watched you with a smirk as your expression grew desperate, but you could simply nod obediently, knowing that Jace would make good on that promise.

“Good girl,” he soothed you, before thrusting into your mouth even harder, faster.

Your moans were muffled by his cock, but Jace let his unfiltered noises echo throughout the room, his curses and groans and praises only making you wetter. “Yeah, that’s it, baby…taking this dick like a pro, huh? What a dirty little slut you are.”

You could barely speak with his dick in your mouth, and Jace could feel himself getting closer as he watched your tits bounce in that skimpy top you had on. He couldn’t wait to have his hands and mouth all over them, kissing and biting and sucking on your hardened buds. The thought alone was enough to send him over the edge, and when you began playing with his balls, he completely lost it.

Letting out a rough moan, he spilled himself in you, his hot load shooting down your throat. The vibrations of your muffled moans around his cock made it feel even better.

He pulled out, watching your dazed, blissed out face. Gently tilting your chin up to face him, he ordered you, “Swallow all that for me, sweetheart.”

Obligingly, you did so, and Jace let out a sigh of pleasure. “Good girl. Come here.” He helped you up from your knees, gently hoisting you up onto the desk again while rubbing your red knees with his thumbs like a perfect gentleman. Then, his hands found his way to your cheek again, and his lips to yours. He could taste himself on your tongue, and he groaned into your mouth, hand going to palm at your tits through the fabric of your top.

“Best Christmas present I could ask for,” he murmured, sweetly pecking you on the lips. “Which reminds me,” you brought up, voice a bit hoarse after that intense face-fucking. “How’d you get here?”

“I flew out, duh.” You smacked Jace’s shoulder at that non-serious response. “Ow. I flew out all the way for you, and you abuse me like this?” Jace rubbed his hot shoulder, looking like a kicked puppy. “Hurts me right in my feelings, baby.”

“I’m serious,” you pressed, and Jace laughed, kissing your pouting lips. “I don’t know, you just looked so sad over the video call…I just had to come and see you.”

“And your family was cool with it?” Jace laughed again, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly. “Mom’s always chill about it, don’t worry. And you know my little brothers; they always act like they’re happy to be rid of me.”

“But for now,” Jace’s lips met yours again, searing, wanting. “Can we stop talking about how I got here and focus on worshipping you instead?” You giggled, tightening your arms around his neck. “Well, in that case-“

A clatter outside your door made you and Jace freeze in your tracks, wide eyes going to the door. “What was that-“

“My suitcase!” Jace exclaimed, a panicked look on his face as someone outside bellowed. “Who left their fucking suitcase in the middle of the hall?”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter at the sight of abject horror on Jace’s face as he rushed to the door to apologise to whatever poor soul had tripped over his suitcase.

Best Christmas you could ever ask for.

let me know if you wish to be added to a general taglist for jace related works, or just my works in general in the comments or through this form! :)

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

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