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twwpress · 1 year

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Weekly Press Briefing #44: April 23rd - April 29th

Welcome back to the Weekly Press Briefing, where we bring you highlights from The West Wing fandom each week, including new fics, ongoing challenges, and more! This briefing covers all things posted from April 23 - April 29, 2023! Did we miss something? Let us know; you can find our contact info at the bottom of this briefing!

Challenges/Prompts:

The following is a roundup of open challenges/prompts. Do you have a challenge or event you’d like us to promote? Be sure to get in touch with us! Contact info is at the bottom of this briefing.

The Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda Josh/Donna prompt fest (hosted by @jessbakescakes and @thefinestmuffin) is open for claiming; fics reveal on June 24th. Details here.

Photos/Videos:

Here’s what was posted from April 23 - April 29.

Amy Landecker posted photos from her and Brad’s trip to D.C. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Bradley Whitford posted photos from his and Amy’s trip to D.C. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Josh Malina posted photos of himself playing in a Broadway show softball league 1 | 2

Melissa Fitzgerald posted a photo of herself along with John Legend, Bradley Whitford, and Amy Landecker.

Rob Lowe posted a photo of the issue of Us Weekly with himself and his son on the cover.

This Week in Canon:

Welcome to This Week in Canon, where we revisit moments in The West Wing that occurred on these dates during the show’s run.

Season 1, Episode 19: Let Bartlet Be Bartlet aired on April 26, 2000.

Season 2, Episode 19: Bad Moon Rising aired on April 25, 2001.

Season 4, Episode 20: Evidence of Things Not Seen aired on April 23, 2003.

Season 5, Episode 20: No Exit aired on April 28, 2004.

Season 7, Episode 19: Transition aired on April 23, 2006.

Editors’ Choice:

In honor of the anniversary of the airing of episode 4.20 (not that 4.20), here are some of our favorite fics centered around or featuring events from Evidence of Things Not Seen!

come home to my heart by claudiasjeancregg for crossingdelancey | Rated M | C. J. Cregg/Toby Ziegler | Complete | They were allowed to get up, now, though he wasn’t sure he could walk. Toby pulled his hands away so CJ could move out from under him, barely noticing the red stains covering them. When she struggled to get up, he held out a hand and couldn’t stop the strangled gasp that came out of him.

“CJ,” he choked out. His hands were bloody. Oh God. Oh God.

cutting me open then healing me fine by hufflepuffhermione for hanyolo | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | Josh and Donna are in the press room when it gets shot at, and the trajectory of a bullet changes the trajectory of their lives.

Evidence of Things Not Seen AU.

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand by hanyolo | Not rated | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | “Are you sure you don’t want to call Stanley?”

Josh startles slightly, eyes darting to where Donna stands in his doorway, her coat draped over her arm and her bag on her shoulder. He can’t quite identify the expression on her face in the dim light of his office but he can at least make out the furrow of her brow, the way she worries her lower lip between her teeth.

“I’m fine,” he insists, a reassuring smile on his face. “Promise.”

“Okay.” Donna chuckles nervously, her gaze lowered as she helplessly shrugs her shoulders. “Just because I’m not.”

// post evidence of things not seen — donna is worried about josh and josh is worried about donna

concerning things to come by violet_storms | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn | Complete | "So come home," Josh says.

Can’t Kick Up the Roots by iceprinceofbelair | Rated G | No pairings listed | Complete | While Sam is packing up his DC apartment, he turns on the news.

Fics:

Presenting your weekly roundup of fics posted in the tag for The West Wing on Archive of Our Own.

Josh/Donna

The Theory of Entropy by Jane_3yr3 | Rated M | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

Comrades in Arms by loliwrites | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

Domestic Days by spooky_spacegirl | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

Jealous, Not by spooky_spacegirl | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

C.J./Danny

Off the Record by onekisstotakewithme for daylight_angel, miabicicletta, Luppiters, hondagirll | Rated T | Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg | In Progress

Writer’s Block by krazykitkat | Rated T | Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg | Complete

Other Pairings/Gen Fic

it started off with a kiss... now it ended up like this by imawkwardlysoc | Rated G | Sam Seaborn/Original Female Character | In Progress

Ghost Town by starbuckmeggie | Rated T | No pairings listed | In Progress

the son i wish i was, the son he never had by mmousik | Rated T | Jed Bartlet & Josh Lyman (No pairings listed) | Complete

ab invito – against one’s will by mmousik | Rated T | Jed Bartlet & C.J. Cregg & Josh Lyman & Leo McGarry & Sam Seaborn & Toby Ziegler (No pairings listed) | Complete

The Language of Healing by silasfinch for justdreaming88 | Rated M | Ellie Bartlet/Original Female Character(s) | Complete

Multiple Pairings

Labor of Love by mlea7675 | Rated T | Zoey Bartlet/Charlie Young, Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete

A Silence Full of Sound by mandolinrains | Rated T | Leo McGarry/Original Female Character(s), Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

THE WEEKLY PRESS BRIEFING TEAM CAN BE REACHED VIA THE FOLLOWING METHODS:

Twitter: @TWWPress

Email: [email protected]

Feel free to let us know if we missed something, if you have an event you’d like us to promote, or if you have an item that you’d like included in the next briefing!

xx, What’s next?

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frogchiro · 7 months

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Okay so I read that gladiators could sometimes be hired to be body guards for nobel ladies and all I can think of is Gladiator! Price and a sweet little Nobel! Reader

Like imagine big, burly, hairy price following reader everwhere?? :(( even watching over her in her bedroom and the bath to "make sure she is completely safe". But really he just wants to see readers pretty soft skin in her nightgowns and smell her sweet scent after her baths.

Gladiator!Price who got hired by your father, a noble, who is incredibly protective over his youngest, only daughter. You're a young lady, just turned 20 amd he knows that the world is a dangerous place especially for someone like you so every extra step is justified in his mind.

He has seem the gladiator before in the coliseum, a magnificent warrior despite his age but this is something that only fueled his decision to hire him, a young buck would surely be a perverted degenerate who will try and rob his darling daughter's innocence and might even hurt you, so someone like John is perfect. If he only knew :((

You were kinda scared of John at first when your father introduced him as your new guard. He was a huge man, larger even than your father and much broader, his bulky body standing with his arms crossed over his strong chest, but what really got to you were his eyes. Those intense gray eyes which seemed to be fixated on you made a shiver run down your spine and made appear a shameful tightness in your belly.

You were really timid at first around the gladiator; he was mostly silent, occasional gruffy words left him but they were few and far in between. Pity. His voice was deep and low, a perfect amount of husk and growl in it to make your breath quicken but you pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came. You should be ashamed! What would father think, what would John himself think about the fact that you have such lusty thoughts about him! All he probably sees is a naive, young noble girl with nothing better to do than go to the market to shop for luxurious fabrics and jewelery with your father's money and sew pretty patterns at home.

Well...that picture of a noble and stoic guardian fell pretty quickly the moment you stepped inside your home's private bath, a beautiful place you always liked to sit and think...but what was Price still doing here? His answer was curt: to protect you at all times. Didn't you know that while bathing you're more vulnerable than ever besides sleeping? He's your guard appointed by your father and it's his sworn duty to protect you.

Sounds reasonable and noble right? Well the feeling of his cock stirring against his armored tunic wasn't all that noble for all the shit John't is spewing. But at the end of the day John is just a man, a man with needs and urges and he can't help the fact that he got assigned to protect the prettiest little nymph he ever saw :((

Good gods what wouldn't he give to touch that beautiful, glowing skin of yours, squeeze your soft tits and suckle on your nipples, grab at your broad hips and- John's trail of thoughts was interrupted by your whining at him that it's embarrassing to undress before him, you're an unmarried lady, it's indecent! But John just scoffs and tells you in that hard, gruff tone to either get naked and hop into the milky, opaque water or go without a bath so he left you with little choice, he's so cruel :((

But on the other hand you couldn't help but decide to tease the older male a little bit, making s bit of a show of you undressing, letting the luxurious fabric of your dress slip deliciously down your body and entering the water step by step, all nice amd shy and demure and you could feel your nipples harden and your cunny get wet when you heard a low growl emanate from the gruff gladiator♡

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #gladiator!au #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price

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bluerosefox · 5 months

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Tim in Infinite Realms (Feeling like Alice tbh)

'Note to self' Tim thought as he stared up at the different shades of greens and black shifting sky above him as he ignored the aching his body was in from the rough landing he had to take 'Make sure to give Bart and Kon the slowest and mind-numbing missions for like a week once I get back.'

Tim often forgot his parents used to be accomplished archeologists before they died. (He really didnt, he just really didn't like acknowledging the fact they'd rather dig up buried things from ages ago over being in the same country as him for most of his life)

It wasn't until, as he and his old team ("Yeah! Young Just US together again. Time for a new insane adventure! Hey remember that one time with-" "Shh!!" "Ooohhh right... Forgot. What happens in YJ stays in YJ...") were assigned a new mission that he was reminded of this fact.

The mission was to locate a forgotten relic that apparently could open 'doorways' into different Realms, and one of them was a Realm of powerful undead that if controlled would be unstoppable. They were meant to find it before "insert 'creative name' cult of the week here please" Who planned on subjecting the world to its power.

Now knowing about the relic and finding it was two wholly different things. Tim and the others managed to uncover just enough about the artifact that Tim had manged to narrow down the last city it had been last recorded to be seen in.

And the city's old name was something that Tim thought sounded familiar.

It wasn't until they were digging into the countries archeologist permission records, meaning the people who were given the okay to dig in the historical site, that he found out why it sounded familiar, his parents names were some of the last to have been granted permission before their deaths, and it was then Bart had jokelying said

"Hey what are are the odds Robs parents stored the relic away ages ago! Would be a tiny bit funny if this all powerful item is just collecting dust in some warehouse."

And although it was meant to be a joke. Tim stared at the description of the relic and couldn't help but question perhaps there was some merit to it. Tim, for the first time in years, opened up his parents archeologist records and went to looking.

And low and behold they found out. Still sitting in a warehouse outside of Gotham, as if his parents were going to trust Gotham with important and priceless relics unless it was in their house to study later.

So in short, retrieving the relic should had been easy enough, get in and remove it from storage. Lock it away so the cult looking for the damn thing couldn't use it. Simple.

But trust Bart goofing around with Kon and accidently bumping into Tim when he was inspecting the relic and turning it on.

It apparently opened a glowing green portal... a portal that opened under Tim and dropped him into an entirely new dimension of the Undead... Great, just great.

"Ooo a visitor, we don't get breathing guests here all too often." A voice spoke out behind him, it held an echoing in its tone. He turned around and was meet with glowing eyes and snow white hair. "Although you should probably find a way home or else Walker will find you, knowing him he'll toss you in prison for just breathing, and I'm not joking."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #crossover #blue rambles #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #tim drake #hmmm who find Tim?#Danny or Dani?#or Dan?#one of our Phantoms found him lol #Tim is coming up with plans to get back at Bart and Kon once he gets back #theyre gonna be so bored with what hes going to do #random idea is random #we really need to play with the idea of Tim parents being archeologist more #i feel like people forget that and dont use it often

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otteranha · 1 year

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Like many couples Steve and Eddie jokingly have their respective Free Pass lists, you know the ones where it’s like “if you ever have the opportunity to sleep with this Unattainable Hot Celebrity you can do so with my blessing and it’s not cheating” list. Trouble is, they made them back when they were young, dumb and full of… stupid ideas. And real fame was still a pipe dream for Eddie.

Fast forward 10 years and suddenly he’s at an awards show watching the love of his life flirt with Bruce Springsteen, who is, depending on the day, either #2 or #3 (Rob Lowe is always #1) on Steve’s List. The list Eddie agreed to. And. And…. They’re getting along really well. Which is great. Fantastic, Steve gets to meet one of his favorite artists, love that for him. And Steve’s super cool and chill about it, he’s had enough experience in the industry not to get embarrassingly gushy, just charmingly star-struck. They’re posing for a photo together now. Wonderful. Fantastic. Arms across each other’s shoulders. And ok, Eddie may be internally experiencing what will come to be known as Kill Bill Sirens.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks.

Eddie scrambles. “Nothing! Not a thing, not a single solitary thing, why would anything be wrong?”

“Then why do you look like someone just secretly fed you your beloved pet?”

“If they secretly fed me, I wouldn’t know about it so I would look normal so there. You proved my point.” Steve gives him an unimpressed look.

“I am a man of my word,” Eddie sighs, “So if you want to shoot your shot with Free Pass #3, just you know... be safe, vaya con dios and all that.”

Steve bursts out laughing, “No way! You really think I have a shot with Bruce Springsteen? He’s not even single!” “He’s famous! And you’re, like, stupidly hot.” “You’re famous, would you hook up with some random fan?” “No but...” “I should hope not!”

“He’s on your list!” Eddie protests.

“Eddie, baby. It’s a game, a fantasy. I’m not really looking to hook up with any of those people. You wouldn’t really hook up with James Hetfield would you?”

“No but, you have people on your list who might actually be attracted to you. And...”

“And?” Steve asks. “Well, you deserve it. You deserve the best.”

“Aw baby, I already have the best,” Steve smiles, “But the fact that you thought I had a shot with the Boss might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things hc

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ohmy80s · 6 months

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Rob Lowe & Demi Moore

#80's #demi moore #rob lowe #young rob lowe #80s

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pathetichimbos · 7 months

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I wanna eat Thomas up like he my LAST MEAL 😫😫

Shawtyyy like I’m beating up his guts like I die TOMORROW!! 💖💖

Honestly if I saw him with my (dumbass) group of friends I would turn to them and be like “hol’ on i’ma try to wife up this super model ova here, go on without me cuz this town is my new home as long as he here.” While LOUDLY pointing to Thomas and trying to be suave AF but lookin dumb in the process. Lowkey though I feel like realistically he would think I’m making fun of him and kill me first 😭😭.

What’s your take on it?? How would our (hot-sexy-mouthwatering) Thomas Hewitt take a very bold flirtatious reader?? Thanks and bye!! ✌️💖💖

I am having thoughts and feelings about this thank you very much

So, we all know Thomas is a very shy and reserved man. He isn't bold or confident by any means. He does as he's told, and sticks to himself, pretty much never leaving his comfort zone.

But, Luda Mae's getting older, and despite her head-strong and strong-willed demeanor, Thomas worries about her.

So, he starts spending more time at the old country store, if for no reason other than to serve as a deterrent for the off-handed biker or degenerate looking for an excuse to try and rob a poor old station clerk.

It works, and Luda Mae enjoys spending more time with her son.

There's not much to do out at the shop, and so more often than not Thomas finds himself resting out in the old rocker to escape the hot smoky air wafting from the patron's and his mother's cigarettes.

It's a cool October afternoon, a nice breeze keeping the hot sun at bay as he gently pushes himself back and forth with his foot, eyes closed as he rests.

He hears you before he sees you, the loud, excited yells of a group of young women fading in from the distance as a jeep kicks up dirt, pulling up to one of the old, rusty pumps.

He squints his eyes open, watching as the four of you sing along to the radio, no one concerned with how off-key y'all may be.

He sighs, closing his eyes again, not moving from his seat in the old rocker as your group continues having the time of your lives.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," A clear voice suddenly emerges from the chaos, the music lowering to a quiet hum, "Who is that?"

He opens his eyes again, seeing that you have set your eyes on him from your place in the backseat, sunglasses lowered to take in a better look.

He frowns behind his mask, face scrunching in expectancy, waiting to hear the barrage of rude comments and hideous bullying.

The rest of your friends glance over his way as he shuffles in his seat, shoulders tensing as he looks away, uncomfortable with the attention.

"Goddamn." You start again, letting out a low whistle, "If this is what this town has to offer y'all can just leave me here."

A large eruption of playful teasing, groans, and eye rolls come from your friend group as you wiggle your eyebrows at him with a large, flirtatious grin.

He looks back, caught off guard by the terrible pick up line, frozen in place as you blow him a kiss.

"Are you for sale, pumpkin, 'cause I could just eat you up!"

"Oh, my god, leave the poor man alone." One of your friends tease you, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you further into the car.

He can't help but stare, left in shock by the sudden and unexpected flirting.

You couldn't be serious, right...?

There's no way you could actually be flirting with him right now... Right?

His thought process is broken as you ungracefully climb out of the truck, pulling yourself over the door and almost busting your face in the process.

Brown eyes stay glued to you as you walk over to him, hips swaying in what he was sure to be a much more suave and appealing way than the dorky saunter you were pulling now.

...This was definitely a joke.

"Hey." You barely stifle through your amused giggling to speak, "Do you have a name or can I just call you mine?"

"Y/N!" Your friends groan loudly from the car, watching you attempt to work your magic.

He looks you up and down, trying to figure out if this was some strange attempt to mock him or if you were actually coming onto him, the latter making his face flush pink at the idea.

"Thomas!" His mother steps out of the shop, poking her head out to look at the two of you, "Come help me put this stuff up."

He isn't sure if she really needs help or if it's a feeble attempt to get him out of the situation, and to be completely honest, he's not really sure he wants to leave.

But his mother says she needs help, so he stands from his chair, rising to his full height, something that would cause most people to take at least a small step back, but your smile only seems to grow as you stand in place, clearly checking him out as you look him up and down.

He starts to ignore you, heading back inside, only to hear the wooden floorboards creak behind him as he reaches the counter.

He looks back, a confused look on his face as he sees you following behind like a lost duckling.

"Don't mind me," You wink, "My mama just always told me to follow my dreams."

He huffs in amusement at that, shaking his head.

Maybe your pickup lines weren't all that bad.

...

As time goes on, and the more he gets to know you, the more he's going to find your flirtatious advances amusing and endearing, but if you don't make it very clear from the beginning that there's actual feelings behind your remarks, he's going to assume that they're just jokes and you're not actually into him.

He's a big romantic, he'll catch feelings rather easily the more you flirt and tease him, and if he isn't 100% sure that they're more than just jokes, he'll eventually grow to resent them because he feels like he's being teased, even if you have no idea he has feelings for you at all, so communication (while a big deal in every relationship) will be especially important if you're a flirtatious person.

#is this cat calling?#maybe #but thats okay #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x s/o #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o

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sxnktaalxna · 4 months

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Threads - Chapter 3

Azriel x Acheron Sister

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

As a child, (Y/N) had always been gifted with the needle. As young as she was, her nimble fingers could thread fabrics and string as though it were dancing across a silky stage. She supposed it was a blessing as time went on, and coin grew low. Coats with holes and thinning linings were given second lives. Curtains and old table cloths were stitched together forming misshapen blankets, too itchy socks and new pants that Nesta complained were unladylike to wear (but she wore anyway - how could she deny her youngest sister's efforts?). Those pants still stayed hidden in depths of Nesta's dresses.

Now this needle, growing blunt and losing its shine, found a home in her sister's skin. Dancing and weaving through a tapestry of an ocean of scars. (Y/N) always kept her spool of string in the back of the closet for emergencies - Elain's ripped sleeve, Nesta's too long hem, her father's fraying shirt, and Feyre's broken skin.

Feyre kept a straight face during those nights when stitches was needed, but (Y/N) only needed to peek from the corner of her eye to see the smallest wince each prick gave her. She knew Feyre had been through worse, but she did her best help her older sister as best as she could. It was the least she could do. So gentle notes of childhood lullabies began to spill from her lips. Nights filled with bloody threads and folk songs began to fill the house that once was drained of love and light.

(Y/N) would often ask what happened when Feyre would come home with a new cut or bruise. And each time, Feyre would dismiss it with a wave of her hand. Her younger sister was still a child, freshly 18 and still curious of the world. And yet, she had been robbed of the childhood and youth that Nesta, Elain and to some extent Feyre had. The night of her mother's death, when Feyre had curled herself into the dark corner of her bedroom, tears on her cheeks and a promise held to her heart, her baby sister crawled in next to her. As silent as a mouse, she said nothing as she cradled her older sister in that dark corner. (Y/N) had always been that way - too old for her age. She supposed that's what happens when the world leaves you to die. That's why Feyre kept her pains to herself - to spare her younger sister, give her a small relief that she never had. Protect her as best she could, while she still had her innocence.

But standing there, watching her beloved sisters fight for their lives, she felt lost. Helpless. Her heart wrenched at them, nightgowns dirtied and torn. No matter how much she fought, she remained defenceless as her sisters cries and shrieks echoed the battle.

(Y/N) could barely understand what was happening. Awoken and attacked in the night, in the safety of their home. Dragged and torn through the dirt as they fought their captors. Continuing to fight against the inhuman strength that held them hostage. And now, watching her fate bubble and boil in a cauldron. She could only cry as she watched Feyre fight so far from them. Could only watch as Cassian's wings were shredded apart and Azriel laid in a bed of crimson. Could only watch as Elain and Nesta fought against their fate, only to come out changed. Could only watch as it was her turn.

She could feel the ache in her bones as she fought against the guards dragging her towards the bubble surface of the cauldron. Her heart pounded like thunder in her ears. She dug her bare ankles into the floor, trying to stall as best as she could. She could only do so much before she was pushed in.

This must be what death felt like. To feel it flood ur senses, surround you and drag you under its cruel fingers into a dark abyss. To feel it flood your throat and tear the air out of your lungs in a fiery rage. The burn ran through each nerve of her body - she felt in behind her eyes, in her fingertips, within the bones of her frame.

The light blinded her as she tumbled out of the cauldron. What felt like hours was only a few seconds. The cold air sent icy pricks that stung her skin, leaving goosebumps. But none of that compared to what she felt under her grip. Her fingers clawed the wet soil, feeling as though a line had threaded itself between her fingers and to the very core of the earth. It anchored her so far down she thought she felt the quake of the world beneath her touch.

And she looked - she didn't just look, she saw. Saw gentle lines of threads dancing across each living being. They were so fragile and thin they were almost imperceptible- but they were there and they shone and glistened like glitter. A painting of golden webs danced across the wind - she imagined this must be the song of the wind Azriel had spoken of. And she felt a tug from one of the fragile threads in front of her - one that shone brighter and held stronger than the others. One that led to the man laying on his crimson deathbed.

-☆-

Even after months, the world had been too much. The colours had been much brighter, as if the Fae world was ripped from Feyre's paintings. The lullabies that floated in the wind carried by songbirds rang in her ears no matter where she was. Even when she locked out the doors, closed the windows, kept the curtains down. The world she had always dreamed of seeing, and she had been forced to see it everywhere. She couldn't escape it.

And those golden threads that seemed to weave the world to her fingertips... She could feel the urge to tug at those threads, to pull back against the own pulling of the Mother. And yet each time she reached out and held own, her fingers never seemed to hold steady.

She hadn't seen her sister's in a while. Nesta was often gone, and the only clues of her existence lingered in the tussled room next to hers. Elain had been just as bad, possibly worse. Locked in her room, Elain spent most of her days staring out the window, her lips remaining sealed from the world.

Feyre had tried. For (Y/N) especially, she had tried to coax them outside and to experience Velaris properly. There were good days, like when Elain and (Y/N) were sat by the window, hands held tightly - but most days were spent with the Acheron sisters out of sight, locked away and silent. During those days, Feyre would sometimes wish she were back in their cabin in the woods. Nesta and Elain staying inside, hogging the blankets. Their father carving creatures from woods. (Y/N) as fresh as the first winter snow, axe in hand and firewood in a circle around her. Huddled around a small fire in the cold nights, hungry but free.

And now they had been damned into an existence unwanted, cursed - and what good was a cursebreaker if her sisters remained crushed under this living burden?

She could hear shuffling behind the door, quiet yet frantic. Moments later, the door gave way to her baby sister. Nesta had been devastatingly beautiful, her features sharpened like a blade on grindstone. The moment she had come out the cauldron, power had emanated from her pores like waves of heat from an everlasting flame. Elain had come out like the personification of spring, bright and rosy and glowing, yet blank and shivering like a baby deer. (Y/N) came out...different.

Nesta had come out with power, but (Y/N) came out with purpose. Feyre remembered watching (Y/N)'s eyes dart around the air, as if staring at flying bugs that no other eye could see. For days, weeks, (Y/N) stared out into nothing, eyes darting and following the air. One night during their early days as Fae, Feyre caught her sister reaching out towards the stars, fingers reaching to hold onto something. That night had ended with (Y/N) in tears, weakly clawing at the air. No longer did her sister yearn for the unknown, no longer did she smile at the curious or giggle at the strange.

'Hello little butterfly,' Feyre grinned. Often (Y/N) would not answer, staying silent behind the door. Today was a lucky day it seemed.

'Hello,' (Y/N) nodded, her fingers tightly around the door edge. They were slender, thin, no longer covered in small red dots. Feyre's smile dropped slightly, but she quickly recovered.

'May I come in?'

(Y/N) sidestepped away from the door and back to the chair in the corner of the room. Today must be a very good day then. Feyre stepped in, closing the door and pushing away the last bit of artificial light from the room. (Y/N)'s room had been in perpetual darkness since her change. The only source of light was the small set of candles on her table gifted to her by Rhysand - 'So you don't prick your finger when you sew,' he'd said. Her sewing kit laid untouched on her shelf.

'Please don't ask me if I'm ok,' (Y/N) sighed once Feyre sat down on her bed. 'You know I'm not.'

'You won't get used to your new senses if you keep yourself locked away. Maybe if we opened a window-'

'It's not that, and you know it,' (Y/N) snapped. Her fingers gripped the wooden handles of her chair, nails digging in. 'I know you were there.'

'We were all there-'

'Not my changing.' (Y/N)'s eyes snapped up to Feyre's. Feyre almost flinched at the severity behind them. 'That night. You were there. I felt you - your thread.'

'My thread?'

'I felt it tugging that night. It only feels like that when someone is close by,' (Y/N) frowned. It looked like more words wanted to spill, but she kept her mouth shut.

'I've...' Feyre trailed off, confused. 'I've never heard of threads. Are you sure-'

'I'm not going insane,' (Y/N) cried, pushing her palms into her eyes. Feyre felt her heart shatter.

Reaching out, she took her sister's trembling hands, holding them steady in hers. 'You are not insane. There is nothing wrong with you.'

Feyre's hands reached up, cupping (Y/N)'s cheeks. 'You are just as you've always been. My dear little sister. My little butterfly.'

(Y/N) inhaled, closing her eyes. She felt her sister's fingers glide across her cheeks, tucking her hair behind her ears. For once, she could feel the golden strings. They gently grazed her cheeks, as warm and as soft as she could ever imagine. She could feel them connected to her being, connected to the love of her sister. They danced around her heart, tugging at her heart.

'I'm hoping to start a sewing workshop sometime in my art studio,' Feyre said, her hands holding (Y/N)'s hands in her lap. 'And I was hoping, you'd help me run it.'

(Y/N)'s breath hitched at the thought of leaving the house so soon, but Feyre gently squeezed her hands. Those threads made their presence known once more. (Y/N) could feel them tracing the outlines of their conjoined hands, a small tickle that ran along her skin. She wondered if Feyre could feel it too.

'Only when your ready,' Feyre said, 'We'll wait as long as you need.'

(Y/N) nodded, unsure of what to say. Or think. She felt a different tug at her heart - a stronger one. One that was familiar and warm in a way that brought her comfort. A small puff of air blew through her room, causing a small flicker of candles.

'I know,' Feyre said, seeing (Y/N)'s lips starting to slowly upturn. 'You have guests. No wonder you're in a good mood.'

'I'm not sure what you mean,' (Y/N) huffed, brushing her skirt down nervously.

Small shadows flowed from the underside of her door, immediately finding a place around her. They wrapped around her arms, like a gentle welcoming embrace, as if to say 'I missed you.'

Feyre stood up, chuckling at their puppy-like behaviour. 'I'll leave you two alone.'

Opening the door, she laughed and left down the hall. She stood up as the man she was excited to see walked in. And she too, almost giggled at his sight. His usual dark armour had been foregone, only in his undershirt he normally wore underneath his armour. His daggers had also been left behind. But what amused her was the abnormally bright bouquet of various flowers in his hands, slightly obscuring his face.

He coughed at her amused gaze, bowing his head slightly, 'Cerridwen and Nuala said you loved flowers, and I was passing by and figured I'd pick some up.'

'Thank you,' She said, gently picking the flowers out of his grips. Her fingers grazed his, a bright tingle running up her arm. The thread began pulsing, beating like a drum in the back of her mind. It had become a regular visitor alongside Azriel. At first it hurt, feeling like angry waves roaring at sea. But now, they felt like cooling waves meeting the shore. She had to crane her neck around the bouquet to see him, 'I'm not sure where I'll put these, but I'm sure I'll find a place.'

Gently she placed them on her bed. Azriel would never arrive back from a mission without a gift for (Y/N). Her shelves began to overflow with trinkets from all over. From flowers to small carvings, they lined her barren shelves, brining life to the otherwise empty room. Her personal favourite sat on her bedside - a music box. The very first gift actually, now that she recalled. She kept it close to her bed, and during nights where she found it particularly hard to fall asleep, the gentle tones of an unknown lullaby would guide her to her rest.

'Have you had dinner?'

'I'm not that hungry,' (Y/N) shrugged. 'Maybe later.'

Azriel frowned, but continued on. 'The florist told me the flowers would last longer in sunlight. There's a spot by the window sill you could put them.'

(Y/N) stilled for a moment, fiddling with the stem of one of the roses on her bed. She could tell what he was trying to do. He'd always tried, always with a different excuse. She felt disappointed in herself. Each time he came, she felt herself reach for the curtains, only to be too scared to go any further.

The shadow she'd made friends with curled down her fingers, pulling a tug at her lips. 'You must not be treating your shadows well if they prefer my company.'

'They have a weakness for beautiful women is all.'

(Y/N)'s nose wrinkled at his expression, 'No wonder they hate you then.'

Azriel laughed, 'Am I not beautiful at least?'

(Y/N) could feel her ears turn red at his question, her heart skipping a beat. 'And I thought Rhysand was the one with an ego.'

'I'll bring you dinner soon,' Azriel said. 'And I won't take no for an answers. My shadows will make sure you eat.'

'One day I'm going to steal your shadows from you,' (Y/N) said, toying with the shadow around her arm.

Azriel smiled. As the Spymaster of the court, he knew people better than most. He knew how to get into their heads, how to unlock secrets and force those to do his bidding. He also knew that being a spymaster took patience and time. And he would spare all his time for (Y/N).

'Your sleeve,' (Y/N)'s eyes caught the rip in his shirt. The seam had broken open long ago, and had began unravelling over time. It had reach his forearm now, exposing his wrist. (Y/N) reached over, turning his arm over to look at the seam. 'It's going to get worse if you don't get it fixed.'

'I don't suppose you know someone who could help, do you?'

'Haha,' (Y/N) sneered sarcastically, her fingers running along the sleeve. She went silent for a moment, her eyes blank. Azriel waited. He could see her thoughts churning in her mind, and gave her time to figure out which one to articulate it. The one she chose caught him off guard. 'Leave it with me.'

-☆-

It was past midnight now. Feyre had crawled out of bed, creeping towards the kitchen for a late night snack. It would've taken her a few minutes if she hadn't noticed something strange.

A small light stretched out from a certain door down the hall. Shadows flickered across the light. Someone was still up. The closer she got to the door, she began to hear the sound of a music box. The tune it played was a familiar one - an old illyrian lullaby Rhysand and Cassian had belted one drunken night.

As quietly as she could, she cracked the door gently open. She thanked Mother the door didn't creak as she peered inside. (Y/N)'s back was to her, humming along to the lullaby. Rhysand's candle set was lit, illumianting the room once more. Her hands gracefully moved through the air, in movements that Feyre had long since memorised on nights like this. And in her lap sat a familiar black shirt she had seen many times before.

-☆-

'You finally got your shirt fixed then,' Rhysand said, seeing the fixed sleeve.

'It was minor.' Azriel replied, fixing his armour properly.

Rhysand chuckled, 'I like the flowers.'

The armour covered most Azriel's upper body. But at certain angles, a small gift would make itself known. Along the seam of his sleeve ran a small green vine that twisted and brought together the two halves. At the very end of the stitch lay a small bouquet of embroidered flowers.

-☆-

Hello! Thank you so much for waiting! I might honestly come back and add more to the ending of this chapter but I don't really have the time or any ideas right now. But I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Also thank you so much for all the support on this series. I wasn't expecting so many people to be invested and it honestly makes me a little nervous lolol. Anyways, I'm a bit busy lately with my uni enrolment and apartment hunting, but a new chapter will be up as soon as I can write. Thank you again everyone!

Taglist:

@wallacewillow0773638 @impossibelle @utterlyotterlyx @weasleyreidstyles @justdreamstars @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @fussel9913 @willowpains @eatsleepreadance1 @blueeclipsepaperstudent @pee-stachio @zara-aliza08 @woodland-mist @cherryinsalemverse @minnieoo @why4anne @brujitafantomatico @judig92 @robinbaum143 @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @darling006 @jesssicapaniagua @fxckmiup @nickishadow139 @hanitastic @scatteredstardustt @thisblogisaboutabook @bookaddictedgirlie @kindasleepywriter @hnyclover @sstrohma @dianxiaxiexie @azzydaddy @namelesssav @microwaveallthedemons @twsssmlmaa

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #acheron

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wynnyfryd · 2 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 52

part 1 | part 51 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, canon-typical violence, blood

"I'm just saying!" Eddie laughs as he swings himself around the slender base of a young tree, cigarette dangling from his lips. "I could absolutely rock the blue eyeshadow look the main chick was wearing."

Steve doesn't disagree. They're in a dark alcove on the side of the movie theater, Eddie's hair all lit up from behind, a frizzy halo of pinks and blues from the neon radiating off the front of the building, and he looks fucking gorgeous, and he smells like menthol and strawberry shake, and he's been tapping Steve's wrist so much tonight that he might as well be drumming up a new song just for them.

"Can't argue with that," Steve murmurs as he steps up onto the concrete planter. Gets up in Eddie's space; borrows his cigarette, his words floating out on a thin wisp of smoke. "You look beautiful."

"Beautiful," Eddie mimics, tasting the word, looking unbelievably pleased with the flavor that he finds. His eyes go hooded, and there's a sly tilt to his mouth as his tongue slips out to tease the edge. "You tryin' to start somethin', Harrington?"

Steve's answering hum rumbles deep in his chest. His cock aches in his jeans. God, he wants him; wants to back him up a good ten feet until his body scrapes the bricks. Wants to rough him up a little, like Eddie did to him the first time they kissed — make his breath hitch and his skin buzz and his back arch under his touch.

"Oh, you are," Eddie purrs. He takes the cigarette back, their fingers brushing on the exchange, and they're standing so close now, nothing but this skinny tree between them, just a twig of a thing, really, the toes of their shoes touching on either side of the base.

Steve looks down at the snowy soil. Taps Eddie's wrist. Desperately. Frantically. Take me home right now, so help me—

A low whoop echoes off the pavement.

A predatory jeer, and Steve looks up to see three men approaching — three boys, about their age, and drunk, by the looks of it. He grits his teeth.

Their ringleader looks like a caricature; classic bad boy who thinks too highly of himself, some cheap knock-off mash up of Billy Hargrove and Rob Lowe. Steve eyes the shaggy mullet, the dangly earring skimming the lapel of his black jacket, the silver flask and the stupid swagger, and his blood runs hot. Thrums with the promise of a fight.

“Well shit, boys,” the guy grins to his sidekicks, taking a long swig and wiping his mouth. Gleeful malice in green eyes. Little asshole gets close enough for Steve to make out the color; gets right up in Steve’s face and sneers, “Looks like we got ourselves a couple of queers to smear.”

Really? Steve thinks. We’re doing playground games right now? He folds his arms over his chest, flattens his voice; disinterested. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

Eddie smokes his cigarette, and the smoke curls around them in short, unsteady puffs.

The guy snarls, “Do you?”

Beside him, his friend’s hands ball up in fists. A vicious voice in Steve’s head whispers: plant your fucking feet.

“Nah,” Steve answers. He takes a step in front of Eddie; widens his stance, digs his heels into the mulch. Slight crouch; deep breath. “Think I’m right where I need to be.”

“Fuckin’ freak,” the guy spits at the ground. He sways and pivots just a little, like maybe he’s about to slither back off to wherever he came from. Or maybe he’s about to throw his full weight into a swing.

Eddie’s breath whistles. His nose still healing from the break. “Seriously, man,” he tries as he drops the cigarette, crushing the butt under his boot. His voice is thin; hands up; don’t shoot. “Just- just fuck off, alright? We don’t want any—”

The first punch is slow. Sloppy. Steve sees it coming and dips low to dodge, and the jab cracks against the tree, spraying ice and splintered bark, the sound sharp in his good ear. It’s a plate over his head; it’s Billy cackling while the world dims, and Steve sees fucking red. Tastes metal and acid and rot, and all his ghosts are with him; all of Eddie’s, too. Hargrove, and Andy, and Jason fucking Carver; all the faceless specters of whoever pummeled him that night at the bar, whoever dared to lay a finger on him when Steve wasn’t there to be a shield.

But he’s here now, and his answering punch lands hard — sickening crunch as his uppercut connects with the kid’s ribs, knocks the wind out of him. The guy grunts and doubles over, but he gets in a good swing on the way down.

Steve tastes blood at the edge of his lip.

Someone grabs him by the collar.

One of the guy’s friends, freezing fingers pawing at his shoulder, at his throat, and he pulls back hard until his shirt rips at the neckline and frees him from the hold. Ducks again to dodge a blow, swivels and pops discount Rob Lowe right under the chin.

The kid’s teeth clack together as he bites his own tongue. Steve watches his head fly back like it’s about to fall off — like a ragdoll, like a bobblehead, like it’s happening in slow motion. He collapses on the sidewalk and cracks his head against the bricks, and he's down, he's out, but there’s two more still coming, one in front and one on Steve's right, and that one looks tall and broad enough to do some real damage.

Steve squares his shoulders; braces himself for another concussion, because this is— fuck, is the guy on the ground bleeding?

This is bad.

This is really bad.

And then he hears it.

A familiar thwick, a metallic slice through the sudden stillness in the air as Eddie pulls his knife out of his boot and flicks it open.

"Back the fuck off!" he growls; lunges forward with the blade and stabs at empty air, the metal gleaming like an oath. His expression is wild, sweat on his lip and at his temples, bangs sticking to his brow.

Steve spits blood onto the concrete.

Everyone backs the fuck off.

—

"Holy shit," Eddie pants as they haul ass out of the lot. Fingers trembling on the steering wheel, knee jiggling so badly it jangles all his pins and chains. His whole body is shaking. The radio is off.

In the rearview, Steve gets a glimpse of their attackers dragging their limp friend by the armpits through a snowy flowerbed. He thinks he sees a streak of blood.

“Did you know them?” he asks, his eyes glued to the reflection.

Eddie rolls the next three stop signs.

“No,” he finally says. Swallows hard in the simmering quiet. “They were just some guys.”

—

part 53

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

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kuamiru · 1 year

Text

The Golden Child Part II

SAGAU & Impostor AU where the reader is the child of the actual creator.

Warnings: blood, panic attack, mention of suicide.

If you haven't read part 1 yet, you can find it here.

Humidity felt awful. The tall and wet grass gave an uncomfortable sensation every time you walked another step. The tall trees blocked your vision; it was impossible to see what lay beyond the forest. The flora and fauna were drastically different from what you knew in Liyue; no matter how hard you tried, you could not recognize a single animal or plant.

Your eyes were focused on the road ahead, simply watching the dirt below your feet as your mind wandered about the events that led you to this situation. You no longer had any tears to cry, you spent the first hour of your walk weeping and mourning for the life that you lost.

Now, you could only move forward.

The sun that once stood on top of the sky was starting to slowly disappear into the horizon. It wouldn't be long before night arrived, and you had yet to find some sort of civilization to ask for help.

Strange noises managed to snap you out of your thoughts. As you weren't paying attention to your surroundings, you failed to notice three strange persons standing right in front of you, blocking your path. Two buff and strong men and a tall, slim woman looked down at you menacingly. As they bore similar clothes colored red and gold, it was safe to assume that they all were in the same group or clan of some sorts.

You immediately stopped walking and moved your backpack to the front to hug it in your chest as a way to both have a false sense of security and an easier access to the dagger hidden inside.

"So is this it? The shrimp we were tasked to retrieve?" The woman asked as she crossed her arms. You could not see her eyes as they were covered by a red cloth, but it was evident she was raising a brow.

"Watch your mouth." One of the men spoke. "Remember what we were told: safely secure the child and not do anything that could upset them."

So, were these strangers planning to take you? Did they have any connections to that archon that fought your dad? Was that why they were there, to bring you back to Liyue?

Impulsed by your fear, you took one step backward.

The other man seemed to notice this, for he approached you in just one big step. He crouched to look at you in the eyes in an attempt to look less intimidating. It didn't quite work as planned as you just flinched. "Hey it's okay, little one. We won't hurt you. We are here to take you to Lord Sang—"

"Stop right there!"

The man was interrupted by an arrow impacting right in front of his feet, surprising him and making him stand up in alarm. The other two were also alerted and readied their weapons; a bow and two swords were in hand to fight whoever was attacking them.

A young boy descended from the tree on top of you. He landed unscathed in front of you, between the man that previously approached you and your smaller form. His fox-like tail was tense behind him, simulating that of the wild animals when they were alert, ready to strike. His long and fluffy ears twitched at every sound his enemies made, taking advantage of his animal blood to have the advantage on this situation.

"I didn't know Eremites would step so low as to corner a lonely child in the forest." He said, drawing his bow and aiming it at the stranger in front of him. "I'll give you this chance to leave. If you do not, I won't hesitate to throw you out by force."

The group looked at each other. However, none of them put down their weapon.

"Sorry, little forest watcher. We have a job to do." The woman warned.

"We advise you to step aside." The man with the swords said.

Those comments enraged the newcomer. From his point of view, these Eremites were picking on a kid just to rob them. Maybe even something worse.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Before you had any time to react, both the fox boy and the three mercenaries started to attack each other. Arrows and strikes started to flow from everywhere, making you crawl to safety behind the thickest tree around. You closed your eyes tightly and covered your ears with your hands. The sound of fighting reminded you of what transpired earlier in The Chasm... It was just like that time when your father and that archon exchanged blows, one determined to get to you and the other to protect you.

It was just the same.

The clashing didn't stop. Your heartbeat increased with each parry that resonated behind your hiding spot. Soon, all you could hear was the thump of your heart hitting your ears, the fight long forgotten as you could not even remember it was happening thanks to the desperation you were starting to feel. Your breathing got out of control, and your chest soon started to hurt, too. If felt as if your heart wanted to devour your whole body and you could do nothing to stop it—

"Breathe, kid. I need you to take a deep inhale and hold your breath for a second before exhaling. Inhale, exhale."

You didn't know who was talking in front of you, their muffled voice barely reached you through the loud thumping in your chest and ears. They repeated the same words over and over again, and soon you started to obey them in hopes of stop hurting. Inhaling, exhaling. It took a few tries, but your breathing soon became more and more stabilized, and your heart wasn't so loud anymore.

The person crouching in front of you breathed a sigh of relief, and you didn't even know you were crying until they wiped a tear escaping from your left eye. Now that you were calmer, you noticed that your vision was also blurry, however, it was also getting better.

"There now, you're alright." The boy in front of you said. His silhouette was now familiar as you recognized the fox-like features in his body. "Feel any better?"

You nodded rather uncertainly. You still felt agitated, but it was certainly better than a minute ago.

"That's good." He smiled. "You're safe now, okay? Those Eremites can't hurt you now."

He took your little arms in his hands and made you release the backpack you were still clinging to. As you let it go, you noticed how red and swollen your hand and fingers were. It seemed that you were grabbing it with too much force.

"I'm sure this was frightening to such a young kid like you... Judging by the way you dress, I assume you're from Liyue, am I wrong?"

You shook your head 'no'. He smiled, content by your response.

"And what about your parents? Are you all merchants? That's why those mercenaries attacked you here in the forest?"

You knew he didn't have any bad intentions and was just asking in hopes of helping you, but it didn't make it hurt any less the mention of your parents. You raised your knees to your chest and hid your face in them. The boy visibly saddened thanks to your action. In his eyes, those Eremites attacked your family in hopes of robbing you and ended up killing your parents when they struggled. He couldn't think of anything else.

"It's okay little one, it's okay now..." He sat beside you and surrounded your shoulders with his left arm. This helped him bring you closer to his body, using his fluffy tail to bring some comfort by gently caressing your back. "You're safe."

The tickling feeling of the hair of his tail going up and down your back brought a positive reaction out of you. It made you involuntarily laugh, and he seemed pleased by this.

"How about you tell me your name, hm?" His kind eyes complemented his soothing smile. You shyly offered your name, and he seemed to shine brightly at the achievement of finally hearing your voice. "That's an absolutely beautiful name! Mine's Tighnari, though I fear it pales in comparison to yours."

You giggled at his words. "But I like your name. It's pretty."

Tighnari ruffled your hair with a laugh. "Well thank you, little one. That's very kind of you."

You were now relaxed, you even had a small smile on your face. This was the perfect opportunity to exit the forest and return to Gandharva Ville; he would think of what to do next once he got you to safety.

He stood up and extended his hand in your direction, helping you stand up once you took it in your smaller hand.

"We'll go to the ville I live, okay? Once we're there, you can get comfortable and tell me everything that happened." He promised. You nodded once more, and, still hugging your backpack with your free arm, you let the young archer guide you through the forest. He started to walk in the opposite direction of where the fight happened, but curiosity got the better of you and turned your head briefly to see what was left of the fight. You barely got to see the three unconscious bodies before the trees blocked your vision.

You were sure you would never be able to see such settlements back in Liyue.

The large trunk of a tree was the base of a little ville hidden in the middle of the forest. The place was filled with forest rangers patrolling the nearby areas, all of them greeting Tighnari once you both appeared right at the entrance.

Being around so many strangers filled you with uneasiness, so naturally, you clung to the only person you knew. Tighnari didn't seem to mind; in fact, it was as if the hold gave him a new surge of energy, for he increased the speed of his walking and returned every greeting with excitement. He even took this opportunity to wrap his tail around your torso.

The road ended in front of a wooden cabin. You stared at it for a moment, thinking about your current situation. Was this okay? This boy certainly promised to help you, he even rescued you from that scary people back in the forest. 'Don't enter a stranger's house' your parent would always tell you...

But did you have any other option right now?

Tighnare looked back at you and offered a gentle smile. "It's okay, I'm with you."

He gently tugged your arm, and you started walking again. You both entered the tiny house, surprised to see a girl already inside, seemingly writing in a notebook while sitting on the desk.

"Collei, I'm back." Tighnari said, and the girl turned to face him once she heard his voice. The big smile on her face quickly morphed into a semblance of pure confusion.

"Oh, who is this?" Collei approached you, kneeling in front of you before offering you a small smile. "Hello little one! My name is Collei. You are not from around here, are you?"

You instinctively hid behind Tighnari. He laughed. "No, they are not. I fear their family might have been a victim of Eremites."

"But I thought Eremites were just mercenaries? Did someone hire them to attack their family?"

He shrugged. He really didn't have a clue. If this child's parents were wealthy or renowned merchants then it would make sense for someone to have a grudge on them.

You slowly revealed yourself from behind the boy. This girl seemed friendly enough.

"Hi Collei." You offered. "Nice to meet you."

Collei gasped. This child was so cute! And so polite, too. She couldn't fight the impulse of hugging you, in just a second you were scooped into her arms and away from the archer, a meter above the ground.

For Tighnari, that small action made him feel like his world was crumbling... Suddenly he felt alone, suffocated, overwhelmed by anguish. The moment he stopped touching the child he swore he could sense his heart breaking in a million pieces.

No, no!

He didn't even realize what he had done until he heard Collei say his name and the pained whimpers of the child. He was grabbing your small arm rather roughly, for he could see the redness of the skin below his hand. Collei was doing her best in trying not to drop you, as he was trying to bring you closer to him not really caring that you were in the arms of another person.

"Ah! Sorry, sorry...!" He excused himself quickly. He let go of you, and guilt was born in his heart when he saw how you gently rubbed the area where he held you.

Collei was staring at him with a worried expression, but Tighnari didn't really care. He looked at the hand that was used to grab you.

He was certain he didn't imagine it. Every second he touched your small frame... he felt full of life, vigor, energy. A newfound euphoria that made him believe he could achieve anything in this world. He could think of the happiest day in his life and how he felt then would never come close to the way you made him feel.

He raised his eyes and his heart dropped when he found yours full of tears. Oh, this was bad! Please, please don't cry! He'd rather kill himself before being the cause of your weeping—

He was just about to drop to the floor and apologize when a forest ranger entered the cabin in a hurry. She was out of breath, as if she had been running from the edge of the forest to here without taking a break.

"Tighnari, we- we have problems!" She said as best as she could. "Eremites! A group of Eremites is attacking Gandharva Ville ad nauseam!"

"What?!" Both Tighnari and Collei exclaimed. They exchanged a glance between each other, a silent form of communication that only they could understand.

"They're here for them..." He gritted his teeth. What could possibly a group of mercenaries want with a little kid?! Even worse, behind them was a mysterious employer... Someone who was adamant about taking this child. Just the thought of it made his blood boil. "Stay here with them! I'll kill those damn Eremites for trying to harm this one!"

The rage in his voice made the girl give a step backward in shock. She has never seen her friend that angry before... no, he wasn't angry; he was furious.

He wasted no second in summoning his bow and following the fellow forest ranger in the fight outside.

Had you heard right? Were the people from the forest back for you? Ah, the thought of it made you feel sick... What did they even want from you? Could they've been sent from those archons to capture you? Was taking the lives of your papa and tata not enough?

You started to move in Collei's arms, demanding to be put down. She obliged your silent request and carefully let you go from her arms. However, the moment she let go, it felt as if someone tore her heart from her chest and crushed it before her eyes. No way, could this be what Tighnari experienced and made him react that way?

She summoned her bow and shouted your name when she saw you run outside to see what was happening.

The entire ville was replete of Eremites clashing weapons with forest rangers and even some forest watchers. The few civilians that lived there tried to escape through secret passages or deserted places, just to be stopped and apprehended by the invaders.

Collei barely had any time to reach you to pull you inside when an Eremite spotted you two. "There! I see the child!"

Tighnari snapped his head from where he was fighting to look at you, every hair of his body standing up with the rage he was feeling. "DON'T YOU DARE!!" He shouted before firing an arrow at his opponent, piercing their stomach without effort. He needed to get to them, he couldn't let these damn Eremites steal you and take with them all the euphoria and joy he felt.

As he started to hop on the stairs to stop a man that was rushing to the cabin, he failed to notice a woman pointing her own bow and arrow right at him. And just as he was about to grab the man, a sharp pain made him stumble and fall as he clutched his side. Crimson flowed from the wound the arrow had made. Fuck, he would need medical help soon.

He shouted your name, trying to see your small from where he was lying. This proved to be futile as the woman who had shot him moved to stand in front of him, between him and the cabin.

Collei managed to pull you back inside just as the man appeared on the entrance. The girl stood protectively in front of you, having drawn her bow as a way to defend both of you. The Eremite, however, didn't move to attack her. He approached you both and didn't seem to be intimidated even when Collei's arrow was pointing at his head.

"You." He said, looking right at you. "We've come for you."

"You'll have to get through me first." Collei warned.

"Oh, please." The man laughed. "We have orders not to kill anybody, but we certainly can use force to take them with us."

She didn't know what to do. This man seemed way stronger than her. Could she even defeat him in a fight?

"Wait, don't- don't hurt her!" You exclaimed behind her form. You clung onto her scarf tightly, terrified of the situation you were in. You could not let any more people be hurt to protect you! You had to be strong; your father and your parent would've wanted you to be brave. "Please stop attacking the ville, they have nothing to do with me..."

"Certainly. If you come with us we can end this without hurting anyone else. What do you say?"

Collei refused fiercely, but you didn't share her thoughts. You nodded and slowly separated from her body to approach the waiting man. This sent Collei in a panic. She tried to grab you by the neck but was promptly stopped by the handle of a polearm hitting her stomach. She instinctively grabbed the area as she fell to the floor, the impact having made her lose her breath.

"Ah, Collei!" You tried to go to her to see if she was okay, but the man managed to pick you up from your clothes and throw you in his shoulder.

"Worry not, little one. We didn't hurt anyone severely. Now let's go, Lord Sangemah Bay is waiting for you."

Wait, Lord Sangemah Bay? That was the person your father wanted you to find. So these people were sent by them to retrieve you? Had you known beforehand, you would've gone with them back in the forest. Without having to hurt anyone here.

The man brought you outside and whistled. The remaining Eremited heed his call and promptly evacuated the ville, the wounded helped by the stronger members.

The man also took off with you still secured in his shoulder, and you barely could hear the shouts of your name coming from the ville as you got farther and farther away.

——————————

Hello! This is a taglist. Should you wish for me to add or remove you, you can ask for it.

Due to the overwhelming support you've given me, I fear I might have forgotten some people who kindly asked to be tagged. If you do not find yourself here, please do tell me. I've saved every username but there's a possibility that I've missed yours when I made the list.

However, I don't know why I can't tag some blogs. I hope this reaches you well.

@cryastre • @someone-with-wild-imagination • @esthelily • @ursinaw • @shizunxie • @meep13r • @clayallor • @yuyuzi-ling • @atsukawolfcat • @yandere-city • @teethmunchertimes • @shinydrakeon15 • @d4ff0d1l14 • @thelonelyarchon • @shadowfoxey • @lunarianillusion • @sarah-saystuff • @scarletttcroww • @insomniackae • @mochicurls21 • @him3ru • @elernity • @d3sperate-enuf • @devils-blackrose • @heather-hutchcroft • @internet-4ngel • @crueldinasty • @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy • @almighty-raiden-shogunate • @itz-luna • @kaveh-is-pretty • @yuumaofc • @ratorose • @justlostintheinternet • @angelkazusstuff • @jellidecoffee • @deadflycomputerlogs • @valeriele3 • @no-regrets-just-confusion • @chidouna • @hikaru-exe • @leafanonsforest • @formacoon • @chuuya-brainrot • @fantsyland • @red1sg0n3 • @m3q3kic • @toodledoodl3 • @juuuuuj101010 • @fancyhawk45 • @bre99 • @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff •@bre99

#genshin impact #genshin impact au #sagau #impostor au #genshin impact x reader #child reader #cult au #genshin self aware #platonic yandere #yandere #genshin x reader #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x reader #Tighnari #collei

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roseghoul26 · 23 days

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Chapter 1: In A Faith-Forgotten Land

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny Author's Note: welcome to my first ever non-oneshot fic! hope you enjoy! Chapter List

The first time you met Arthur Morgan, you had quite literally crashed into the man.

It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal; you would’ve just said your apologies and went on your way, never to see each other again. And that’s what would’ve happened, if it wasn't for the fact that it was in your house, during the middle of the night, while he was trying to rob you.

You were no stranger to robberies, your house being a prime target for thieves; it was secluded, sitting in the rural area between Rhodes and Saint Denis; it was rich-looking, with three visible floors and a basement; and it had low security. The last issue you had tried many times to get resolved, but to no avail. Maybe this time you’d get your husband to spend the extra money for guards.

Normally, would-be thieves would be too loud as they entered, alerting either you or your husband of their presence, and he was able to scare them off before they could get their hands on anything.

This time, though, you hadn’t heard a single thing. The only reason you were downstairs in the kitchen was because you needed a glass of water. In the darkness, the only source of light being the candle in your hand and a few oil lamps outside, you hadn’t seen the form of the man, bumping straight into him as you rubbed sleep from your eyes.

The two of you stood deathly still, watching each other with bated breath. You hadn’t made a noise, even though the smart thing to do would be to start screaming your head off. Something about this felt… different, for some reason. You slowly brought up the light, making sure to not startle the intruder, just in case he had an eager trigger finger.

You weren’t able to gleam many details of the man, mainly because of the low light, but also because a bandana covered the lower half of his face. He had medium length hair, the color indiscernible, and he wore a simple blue button up and a pair of jeans. The most interesting thing you saw on him, though, was his hat. It was visibly well-loved, the leather ripped and worn from years of use, and you were able to make out a clear bullet-hole on the rim of it. A piece of rope wrapped around it, the material frayed and barely hanging on.

It was when you opened your mouth to speak that he moved, bringing a finger up to his covered lips in a hush gesture. “Don’t scream,” you heard him mutter. Whatever voice you were expecting the stranger to have, it certainly wasn’t that. It was low, gravely, with a pleasant drawl that had you shivering. Or maybe it was the cold. You were only in a nightgown, after all.

You shook your head fervently, creating wind that threatened to blow out the fragile flame of your candle, trying to express to the man without opening your mouth that you were in fact not about to cry for help. He seemed to relax at that, but it was difficult to tell what he was feeling, the only gauge being his eyes and hard to read body language.

“So,” you began, holding your free hand up reassuringly when he tensed up again, expecting you to go back on your word, like any sane person would do. “So,” you tried again, “what do you need?” You made sure to keep your voice as quiet as possible, not wanting to alert the other person in the house.

The stranger cocked his head, rightfully confused by your question. You confused yourself with your own question, but it was the only way you could think to proceed the conversation. “I ain’t quite sure what you mean, miss.”

“You're in here for a reason, so what is it? What do you need?” When you were met with silence, you were starting to get impatient. Hell, all you wanted was a glass of water and to go back to your warm bed, but now you had to deal with a stranger in your house. You half-debated just leaving him to his devices and dealing with the consequences in the morning. It’s not like you cared about the expensive items in your house; they didn’t even belong to you. “Money? Food? Shelter? Or are you here to extort Mr. Kerrigan?” You added with a chuckle, but only you seemed to find it amusing.

When he continued to stare at you like you’d grown a second head, you sighed. “Look, if you aren’t gonna say anything, then you should leave. He could wake up at any minute, and he isn’t going to be so nice about this.”

That seemed to do the trick, pulling him out of whatever deep thought he was in. You watched his eyes dance around, before he slowly started to back away. You saw that he was wearing spurs, which made his silent entry that much more bewildering. “You don’t gotta-”

Your name being called had you both freezing, and you saw him bring his finger up again. Turning your head to look up the staircase behind you, you were able to see the silhouette of your husband at the top, glancing down at you with hands on his hips. You heard him call out your name again, annoyance evident in his voice. Even without the attitude, it was much less pleasant sounding than the strangers, but now it was downright irritating. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you responded with a soft hm?

“Everything alright down there?”

Glancing back over at the intruder, your mouth gaped uselessly as you tried to come up with an excuse that would keep him upstairs. The man stood ready to bolt, not quite sure what you were about to say. “Yeah,” you stuttered out before he got even more annoyed. Your husband, Hans Kerrigan, was someone who did not wait for an answer. “I, uh, stubbed my toe,” you offered lamely, not sounding confident even to your ears.

Turning your head back to the staircase, you half-expected to see him descending, but were pleasantly relieved when you saw him still standing at the top. “You sure?” He questioned, and you nodded, even though you knew that he wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll be back up in a minute.”

After a moment of tense silence, you heard him sigh. “Alright. Just be quiet.” With that, his figure disappeared, and you let out a breath of relief. Turning your head back around, you were surprisingly disappointed to find empty air. For a moment, you stood there, fully convinced that you had just imagined the whole scenario.

The fading scent of gunpowder and tobacco told you that it was real.

Bewildered, you went to the front door, testing it with a few quick turns. It moved easily, no longer locked like it was hours prior, and you were sure to fix it. The next rational thing to do would be to plant something behind the door, because the intruder clearly would be able to lockpick it right back open, just as he had done the first time.

Instead, you turned back toward the kitchen, continuing out on the task you had originally set out to do. You were definitely not as thirsty as you were minutes ago, but you still poured a small glass just for the sake of it, and you set down the candle on the counter. Sipping slowly, you couldn’t get the man out of your head, for multiple reasons. The most obvious reason was that he had broken into your house, so of course you were going to be thinking about it. But you would be a liar if you said that there wasn’t something… alluring about him. His voice was already plaguing your mind, and there was an almost kindness about him that you weren’t expecting that had you replaying the events in your head.

There were so many things that he could’ve done to hurt you, but he didn’t. Not once did he reach for a weapon, remembering now the gun belt hanging loosely from his hips. Not once did he seriously threaten you, only telling you to not scream for help. Not once did he make any move to restrain or hurt you, keeping his space. You knew that it was crazy that something like that would be the epitome of kindness for you, but it wasn't like you were seeing it anywhere else. He was probably the nicest interaction you’d had in the last year, maybe even longer. God, did you enjoy the company of the man who broke into your house?

Having long since finished the small cup, you set in gently on the countertop, the glass ringing out with a soft noise. Not quite ready to go back to bed, you made your way to one of the windows that lined the front of the house, glancing out into the night-filled yard. Trees swayed in the wind as you gazed over the yard, and it looked undisturbed, the only sign of life being a small skunk that skittered across the grass. After closer examination, however, you were able to see a light trail of footprints in the dirt path leading to the front door, one set heading toward it and another moving away. You hoped that the wind would carry them away by the morning.

A couple minutes of watching out the window turned into several, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of the man. It was only when a cold draft from the window hit your body, causing you to shiver. Right, you were only in your nightgown. Running your hands up and down your body, you tore yourself away, quickly making your way back up the stairs after grabbing the candle.

Skipping the first room that greeted you when you reached the top, you opened the second room’s door slowly, extinguishing the candle's flame with a puff of air. Your bed greeted you, and you were able to see the shape of Hans under the covers, back facing your side of the bed. Stepping softly across the wooden floors, you slipped under the silk sheets without making any noise. The bed shifted under your weight, and you froze, waiting to see if you woke the man beside you. When he didn’t stir, you settled in fully, still warm from when you were laying in it earlier.

You really did try to fall asleep, trying to think of anything besides the stranger, but you found yourself going back to him in your mind. You really shouldn’t be thinking about him this much, but you found yourself not caring. This was the most interesting thing to happen in a while, so you were going to enjoy it while you could.

As you tossed and turned in your bed, you were eventually able to fall asleep, your dreams luckily free of the stranger. Yet one thought rang through your mind the entire time.

You needed to see him again.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Rhodes was a quaint town, red dust painting every surface available, and contained a few businesses that provided a livable amount of money for the town.

You hated it.

It was definitely a quaint town, old-fashioned in every sense of the world, stuck in pre-war ideas and mindsets. The dust was irritating, staining anything remotely light a deep russet red, which took hours to get out. And the businesses there would be fine if they weren’t blindly loyal to the Gray family, and showed nothing but contempt for outsiders.

You would’ve liked to stay home today, as it was far enough away from the godawful town that you didn’t have to deal with it, but here you were, stuffed into a tight carriage with your husband across from you. He needed to run into the town today, needing to talk with the bank there about something you weren’t quite sure about. He purposely kept you out of his business affairs, claiming that it was no talk for a lady.

You knew very little about your husband’s job, besides for the fact that he was very wealthy and very powerful. You also knew that he ran some kind of distillery of sorts, but that’s about it. Whenever you asked, he shrugged you off.

So you had kept your mouth shut when he woke you this morning, bringing you to accompany him during his short trip. Like normal, you had gotten ready on your own, Hans disappearing into his office. You had felt a strange calling to wear a blue dress today, and you kept your hair free of any pins and ribbons, not quite wanting to put the effort into your appearance today. You were tired, but you hadn't been able to remember why.

It was when you had headed downstairs, past the locked door of his office, that you remembered. A large, dusty footprint dirtied the kitchen floor, which you normally kept pristine. It had all come back to you then like a wave, the strange man in your house. His voice, his demeanor, the clothes he wore, everything. With a gasp, you had quickly swept away the mark with your stocking-covered foot, most likely dirtying the garment, but you didn’t care. You just had to get it out of sight before Hans came downstairs.

You had barely managed to make it disappear before you heard the creak of the stairs as he descended them, an indiscernible look on his face as he regarded you. After exchanging your usual morning pleasantries, and after you had made him a cup of coffee, the two of you had set out , boarding the carriage that he had hired for the house. Even after two years of marriage, you still hadn’t wrapped your head around the sheer amount of money Hans had.

Tucked into Ringneck Creek, your house was surrounded completely by thick forest and shallow water, with ample amounts of wildlife that were enjoyable to watch. The natural formation of the ground had been altered, though, when the house was built, having created a path that connected it to the main road, but it was still quite a ways from it. It made the ride to towns that much longer, though.

So now here you sat, fiddling with your bag as you watched the passing greenery.You had about a ten minute ride to Rhodes, and about twenty to the bigger city of Saint Denis, so you settled back into your seat, your husband staring out the window in a similar manner, as there was never much to talk about between the two of you.

It was crazy to you, that you’d been married for only two years, because it sure as hell felt longer than that. And it wasn’t like you had a choice when it came to marrying the man across from you. Your parents needed the money, at risk of losing their entire tobacco industry that they created, so they had married you off to Hans Kerrigan, the rich businessman who’d been a bachelor longer than you’d been alive. He needed a wife, and they needed money, so it was an easy decision, one that you had no say in. Archaic, yes, but necessary.

Hans Kierrigan was at least twenty years your senior, with silver hair to account for his age. He wasn’t completely unattractive, no, but he certainly wasn’t your type, one big reason being how much older he was to you. A thick beard covered his lower face, and you had yet to see him without it. He had dull, steel-colored eyes, and his brow was always furrowed, like he was constantly deep in thought.

He wasn’t a terrible husband, but wet paper had more personality than him. He only cared about one thing, that being money, and trying to talk to him was like talking to a wall. You think you’ve only heard him crack one joke during the entire time you’ve known him, and it was when he was absolutely hammered. He provided for you, keeping your necessities fulfilled, and sent monthly allotments of money to your family to keep them afloat. In return, you remained loyal to him over the past years, you looked after the house, took care of him when need be, and were expected to bear him a child, which proved to be a more difficult task than imagined. You were also expected to keep up public appearances, Mr. And Mrs. Kerrigan the talk of towns, the American Dream couple.

He wasn’t mean, having never raised a hand to you or screamed at you, so for that you were grateful. He never touched you, quite frankly, and when the two of you were intimate, he would limit contact as much as possible.You knew that other girls in similar situations couldn’t say the same, so you counted your blessings, no matter how small they were.

However, just like any man, he had his flaws. He wasn’t a person to wait for things, expecting to receive them on a golden platter, and he never took ‘no’ for an answer. He was also extremely controlling, some days worse than others, and you always needed his permission before doing something. You wanted to go into the city? He was accompanying you, limiting you to certain areas. You wanted to send a letter? He was reading them, making you re-write them if he didn’t like the content. You wanted to learn how to garden? That time he had laughed in your face, and you never asked again.

Needless to say, you weren’t happy. You felt trapped, lonely, and like your life was coming to a complete standstill. You had dreams and aspirations before this marriage. You wanted to inherit the family’s business, you wanted to go to school, you wanted to travel the world. Hell, you had wanted a true relationship with someone, never having one before Hans. And now those dreams were buried in the dirt, rotting. You almost envied them.

The only moments you found yourself feeling some semblance of joy was when Hans went away, which happened quite frequently, and for long periods of time. During those days and weeks by your lonesome, you felt like you were able to move more freely, and you did things that he normally wouldn’t allow. You snuck into the city under the cover of the night. You had a little garden hidden behind some trees, where he was never going to find it, because he never explored the woods surrounding the house. If you had people to write to, you would’ve sent them countless letters. But even all that couldn’t combat the loneliness that you felt. It’s teeth sunk into your heart, poisoning everything you did with a melancholic venom.

But if your family was thriving, then you would force a smile on your face every morning. The eldest of ten siblings, it was your responsibility to make sure your family would have a successful future. If halting your own life meant everyone else got to continue with theirs, then you’d stay. But you missed them, not having seen them since the day your father had approached you with the marriage certificate in his hands and Hans trailing behind him. You knew they had moved houses soon after you got married, so if your husband would even let you send a letter to them, you had no idea where to send it to.

But you knew that they were well, which was all you needed to know. Sighing lightly, you felt Hans cold eyes on you, forcing you out of your thoughts. “What’s wrong?” He asked, the question coming from a place of habit rather than care, and instinctively you felt a smile force its way onto your lips.

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lied, and it sounded more confident than your lie last night. “Sorry.”

Either satisfied with your answer, or he simply didn’t care that much, he nodded, before returning to glance out the window. Every conversation with Hans felt scripted like that, and it was exhausting. Refraining from sighing again, you joined in looking out the window, you were startled to find the familiar shapes of Rhodes outside, the journey being pretty much over.

It only took another half-a-minute before the carriage was coming to a halt outside the bank, which was on your right. On your left you saw a prison wagon drive past, with two men on horses accompanying it. It wasn’t unusual for there to be a prison wagon in town, a lot of bounty hunters picking up work from the Scarlett Meadows Sheriff’s Office. What nearly caused you to stumble in surprise as Hans helped you out of the carriage was a familiar hat adorning the driver of the wagon. Yet again, you weren’t able to get a good glimpse of him, and Hans’ voice halted you from following the stranger with your eyes.

“I’ll be in there for a bit,” Hans explained, gesturing to the bank. “Go ahead and wait for me right out here.”

“Could I run to the store? I need some things for dinner tonight,” you felt the lie tumble from you before you could stop it.

Well, it wasn’t a complete lie, you did need to buy some supplies, but it definitely wasn’t what you were expecting to do today. He seemed to buy it, relenting after some thought. “Alright,” he started backing away toward the bank, “meet me over here when you’re done. Don’t take too long.” He paused for a moment. “You got enough money?” He asked, nodding to your bag which you held in one of your hands. It was kind of a ridiculous question, but you nodded anyway. Without another word, he walked into the bank, finally leaving you to your lonesome.

As quickly as you could without drawing attention to yourself, you crossed over to the store before avoiding it completely. The men had all dismounted their rides, their horses hitched up on to the post outside of the office. A group of four men stood at the base of the stairs, deep in conversation. The only person you were able to recognize was Sheriff Leigh Gray, who was partially facing you as he talked with the three unrecognizable men.

At least, two of them were unrecognizable.

That familiar hat became even more clear as you approached. It looked even more worn in the sunlight, the brown leather turning a sandy tan in certain spots. The owner of said hat had his back to you, but you were still able to hear his voice clearly. It was just as you remembered, gravely and low and you could listen to it for ages. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips as you approached, and you forgot how nice it was to have a genuine one. Your wish of seeing him again was happening faster than you thought it would.

You realized you had no idea what you were going to say to the men, causing you to second guess what you were doing. It’s not like you could go up and say Hey, weren’t you in my house last night? Luckily Leigh saved you from having to come up with anything, his concerned expression turning to a welcoming one as he finally saw you.

He clapped one of the men he was talking with on the shoulder, who had longer black hair that fell to his shoulders, slicked back with pomade. “You remember me tellin’ you ‘bout the Kerrigans?” The men gave partially-interested noises in response. “Well,” he gestured to you with his free hand, and the black haired man followed where he was pointing, turning around to face you completely. He was richly dressed, wearing something you’d see your husband wear, not a bounty hunter. Weird.

The other man also turned. He also had brown hair, with a thick beard similar to Hans’. He was chewing on a piece of straw, and you watched him play with the repeater in his hands, antsy. The only one who didn’t turn to you was the man with the hat, but you heard him hum inquisitively to Leigh as you halted a few feet behind the group.

“Let me introduce y’all to Mrs. Kerrigan.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

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