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atlasalexanderwrites · 4 months

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House of the Dragon: Male!Targ!OC x Alicent Hightower

IMAGINE...being the older brother to Rhaenyra and choosing to marry Lady Alicent Hightower (so your father can't).

Word Count: 3,891

Warning: NONE! Except for the EVER POSSIBLE!ooc of canon characters. SHOW!ages (if that's a warning lol)

A/N: I am still working on Chapter Three of my Arrow story BUT got the idea for this one and decided to give it a shot since I seemingly have a bit of writer's block for the Charlotte Queen x Malcolm Merlyn fic atm!

A/N2: I'M JUST TRYING TO GET ALL THESE IDEAS FOR HoTD FICS SO THEY'LL LEAVE ME ALONE! lol

A/N3: I hope you all enjoy!

“Should something not be done about this? He has just been sitting there, staring, for hours now.”

“The boy has just lost his mother. Surely he can be given some time to grieve.”

Prince Jaehaerys of the House Targaryen, eldest child and only son to King Viserys the First of His Name, had done his best to ignore the whispers around him as he sat on the throne at Dragonstone.

The Prince, affectionately called Harry, had flown to his seat of power - appointed to him on his sixteenth name day two years prior - just hours after the funeral of his mother and baby brother. The thought of remaining in the Capitol without the cries of his newborn brother or the soft spoken words and gentle smiles of his mother as she attempted to sooth her newest child cut too deeply into the Prince’s heart.

His father had had dreams for that new son. The King had always feared something would befall Jaehaerys; after all, Viserys had seen it with his own eyes - the downfall and death of so many heirs to the Old King, Jaehaerys’ namesake. It wasn’t a surprise that the current King of Westeros was frightened at the possibility of his own children meeting the same fate.

His mother had prayed to the gods to give her the son that her husband so desperately wanted; the son that would give Viserys a spare heir, beyond his daughter, and ease some of his fears of losing all his heirs before Viserys himself died.

Harry had dreamt only of his parents finally finding peace and of being able to teach a younger brother how to fight with fist and sword, how to ride on horseback and dragonback, and how to be a great knight and Prince of Westeros.

The loss of his mother and brother had hit him harder than he had expected, and while all accounts told him that his father grieved through silence and self-pity and Rhaenyra grieved through acting as if nothing had happened, Harry was both sad and angry. And he had had no clue on how to let either emotion out in the four months he had been on Dragonstone.

“...he is the heir of the throne and he cannot simply sit here while…”

“While what, Ser?” Harry’s voice cracked as he spoke, his emotions threatening to spill over as he lifted his gaze from the floor to stare at the knights who stood at the bottom of his throne, fretting over his silence and stillness. “It is my right to have six months to grieve, is it not? What is it that is so important? Is there a tourney somewhere that I am expected to participate in? Is there a young maiden somewhere that I am expected to meet and charm, make her fall half in love with me at first sight?”

The second knight who had spoken in favor of leaving the Prince to his thoughts, Ser Cormac, had been with Harry for most of his life; the man was a seasoned warrior and had been more of a father to the Prince than the Kind had been. The man hummed and nodded at the Prince’s words, immediately snapping to attention with his arms at his side and his gaze locked on the Prince’s face. Ser Cormac knew his duty and showed his loyalty willingly, faithfully.

The first knight, the one that was more pushy, was Ser Jourdan and Harry had never liked him much, but the knight was respected across the realm and so Harry hadn’t bothered to go against his Father’s promotion of Ser Jourdan to the Prince of Dragonstone’s detail.

It was Ser Jourdan who responded to the Prince, his tone barely hidden condescension as he sighed and said, “The Small Council is working on finding a second wife for His Grace, King Viserys. It is the understanding of many in this castle, and beyond, that a wife is also being sought out for your hand as well, Your Highness.”

“And you believed I did not know this?” Harry rolled his eyes and reached into his sleeve, producing a small piece of parchment. “I may be on Dragonstone, Ser, but my Father still sends ravens to me. I am aware of what is happening. He asked for my thoughts. It would seem, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys are pushing for my father to marry Lady Laena Velaryon.” A decent marriage, alliance wise, but it would just be a repeat of the King’s union with the late-Queen. A girl, married too soon, and producing heirs far too soon for her body to handle. “The plan is for me to marry Rhaenyra, it has always been that from the moment she was born and even more so when she lived past infancy. Whether my sister realizes this or not, it is as it has always been.”

Harry didn’t like it. He adored his little sister, but he didn’t want to marry her. He wanted something…different for his life. He wanted someone he wasn’t related to; someone who was gentle but strong, someone who had clear ideas of who they were and what they believed in. Targaryens were too fickle, too easily swayed, and Rhaenyra was a Targaryen through and through.

Ser Cormac watched him so closely that Harry began to feel as if there was something he was missing; something his faithful knight wanted to share with him but didn’t want to say in front of Ser Jourdan. Finally, the seasoned knight spoke up, suggesting carefully, “Perhaps, My Prince, it would be best to return to the Capital. You have been absent for some time, and I am sure King Viserys and Princess Rhaenyra miss you dearly. You have always been the more levelheaded of the three of you.”

The knight and the prince shared a soft smile at the inside joke; one that had come about when Harry was a child and would complain about the decisions made by his father and his council, and about the temper tantrums his sister would throw when she didn't get her way.

Harry didn't want to go back. Life was so…peaceful on Dragonstone. He didn’t have to worry about court opinion, or saying and doing things that would make him seem incompetent or arrogant or just not the right choice for the throne. There were too many liars and thieves in the Capitol.

“My Prince,” Ser Cormac bowed slightly before moving up the stairs to the throne, leaning forward to whisper, “I have heard whispers that some on the council are attempting to marry Lady Alicent to His Grace. I believe it would be best to journey to King’s Landing and get a feel for the way of things before everything gets out of hand.”

Harry frowned. Alicent? Alicent Hightower? Who would be trying to marry her to his…

The Hand of the King had good reason to try and secure that match. It was obvious. And whoever stood on the side of Ser Otto would try and talk the King into it as well, citing all sorts of things that would make sense to King Viserys in the moment but not in the long run.

Harry waved Ser Cormac back and after a moment announced, “Prepare our things. We will leave as soon as we are ready.” He would fly on the back of Vermithor; the second of the biggest dragons House Targaryen had, next to Vhagar who had been missing for quite some time. Vermithor was known as the Bronze Fury and he had been the dragon to King Jaehaerys since the Old King’s infancy. Harry had claimed him as his stead at the age of ten, not long after his namesake’s death.

The Prince would fly his Bronze Fury to King’s Landing in hopes of preventing his father from making yet another ill-guided mistake at the hands of House Hightower and those who believed they could control a dragon.

The King was in a Small Council meeting when the Crowned Prince arrived in the Capitol. Harry was informed of this the moment he stepped into the Red Keep and with a stiff thank you at being told, he headed to the Small Council room to join his Father and his advisors.

“...I am only stating facts, My Lord! Lady Laena is a child! Has she even flowered yet?”

“Watch yourself! That is my daughter you speak of!”

As always, the Lord of the Small Council were bickering amongst each other as the double doors to the room were pushed open and the Prince of Dragonstone stepped through, his head held high and locked on the King as he climbed the few steps just within the door and then crossed the room to bow at his father’s side.

“Your Grace. Please forgive my long absence.” Harry bowed, arm held over his chest as he bent forward, respectfully and completely loyal.

King Viserys smiled brightly and placed a hand to his son’s head of blond hair, “Harry! I had no idea you were coming home!”

The Prince straightened and gave his father a smile of his own, “It was a last minute decision. I was told of what has been transpiring in the city these past few months and had to see it all for myself.” Harry took his seat to his father’s left, the one his uncle Daemon often occupied as well when he attended the meetings. He gestured for Ser Cormac to stand behind him, the knight didn’t hesitate even a little as he fell into place behind the Prince’s chair even though it wasn’t very customary for a “simple sworn sword” of a Prince to attend Small Council meetings.

“What has been transpiring? What do you mean?” Viserys chuckled, leaning forward in his chair with amusement that sounded more forced than genuine.

Smiling sadly at his Father, Harry reached out and placed a hand to the King’s hand. “That these men are attempting to have you married before the six month period is over. That these men are forgetting there is no need for the King to remarry when the Crowned Prince is yet unwed and quite capable of producing heirs of his own.” As he finished talking, his gaze flickered cold and accusing over the men of the King’s Small Council; the men who were meant to be advisors not snakes hidden in plain sight who would take advantage of their King, the man they were meant to be most loyal to.

“Harry, they only mean to do what is best for the realm.” King Viserys sighed, patting his son’s hand, “These men are loyal-”

“If they were loyal, they would not suggest members of their own houses.” Harry spat, ripping his hand away from his father, “Laena Velaryon and Alicent Hightower? What say you, Lord Strong? Do you have a daughter you wish to pawn off to the King as well?”

The room was silent as Harry tried to rein in his temper, his hands dropping into his lap - fisted - as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

Hands fell onto his shoulders and Harry knew it was Ser Cormac, his forever loyal knight and protector.

“You killed my mother in your attempt to produce more heirs.” Harry whispered, his voice suddenly void of emotion as he lifted his gaze to look at his father once more, “If you are sad or lonely, spend time with Uncle Daemon or Princess Rhaenys. Spend time with Rhaenyra or me. You will never love your second wife, and you have to know that. You will use her and destroy her. No one deserves that. And Mother doesn’t deserve to have her memory tarnished either.”

“Jaehaerys,” the King whispered, tears prickling in Viserys’ eyes as he stared back at his son, “I love your mother…”

“THEN DO NOT REPLACE HER!” Harry slammed his hands on the table and got to his feet, glaring down at his father, “Do not replace…me and Rhaenyra. Are we not good enough for you? Have we not done everything you have ever asked of us? Father…Your Grace I beg of you. Do not get remarried. Please.”

“Perhaps,” the Hand of the King began to say slowly, catching the Prince’s gaze as he continued speaking, “The Prince of Dragonstone is exhausted from his travels and would like to rest before continuing this conversation.”

“Otto,” King Viserys sighed, waving the other man off while never removing his gaze from his son, “Jaehaerys.”

“I will marry one of them. Or both of them. Fuck. Why not both of them.” Harry wasn’t sure where the words came from, but once they were out he couldn’t take them back. They were a last ditch effort to make all of this just cease!

“Excuse me?” someone else around the table, Lord Lyonel Strong perhaps, questioned, sounding part confused and part bewildered.

“Lady Laena and Lady Alicent. Your Grace, choose which one is most important to the crown and to the continued prosperity of the realm, and I will marry her. If both will ensure prosperity, then let me act as King Aegon did and take two wives.”

“Uh-now, the Faith of the Seven does not believe in such…”

“Maester, I do not believe I was asking for your insight into this matter. I am of Old Valyria and while I respect your gods and the old ones, I do not believe I was asking for their permission either.” Harry’s heart was pounding away in his chest as he continued to stare back at his father, trying to convey the urgency and seriousness of his words.

No one spoke for several long moments before the King laughed and got to his feet, “You should take Ser Otto’s suggestion and sleep, my son. We will discuss your marriage later.”

And he left. Just….left.

The Prince continued to stare at where the King had stood long after the room had emptied besides himself and Ser Cormac.

Had that…truly just happened?

His father had never dismissed him in such a way. Had never made light when Harry spoke up against the council.

What was going on?

What was Harry missing?

All the Prince knew was that his father’s dismissal cut deep and left him feeling chilled to his core.

Harry had never cared much for the practice yard. To be honest, the moment he was knighted he had stopped pointlessly swinging his sword with the squires and young knights he had trained with his whole life. He knew his skill level and honestly, liked the thought of having some mystery so his enemies wouldn’t know what he was capable of.

But he was angry and he needed to blow off some steam.

Somehow he had ended up sparring with a member of his father’s King’s Guard, Ser Criston Cole. The man was good and certainly earned his position on the King’s Guard. He didn’t hold back and even gave Harry some pointers on how to stand and hold his sword; things the Prince had been told before but never in a way he truly understood.

“You have been looking after my sister, Ser.” Harry was saying as they ended their session.

“Well, it is the Princess who I have to thank for my position, Your Highness. She is the one who gave me the rank on your father’s authority.” the young knight informed him as the two moved to stand against the wall, allowing the squires to use the training yard instead.

Harry nodded, “Yes, I heard. I…apologize for her if she has said anything…hotheaded or without thinking. I am afraid that Rhaenyra is…well…hotheaded and often acts on feeling instead of thought.” he chuckled, smiling fondly at the thought of his younger sister.

“From what I hear, you hardly have any room to talk, brother.”

Harry and Ser Criston turned at the sound of the Princess’ voice, the knight dropping into a low bow as Harry closed the space and kissed both of his sister’s cheeks. “Rhaenyra, you look radiant.” Red had always been her color, after all.

The Princess laughed, “Do not change the subject, dear brother. I heard of your outburst in the small council meeting yesterday.”

Harry’s smile slipped as his gaze moved behind Rhaenyra to the girl standing, nervously, behind her. “Apologies, Lady Alicent, I had not seen you before.” the Prince bowed as a greeting before saying to his sister, “They speak nonsense. There is no reason for His Grace to marry.”

“And to ensure that doesn’t happen, you believed it was the right thing to do to offer to marry multiple people? You cannot marry every young Lady who is offered to Father.”

Harry looked back at Alicent, wondering if Rhaenyra knew that her best friend was one of those young ladies. “I can marry a few of them at least. Our House is declining, I highly doubt Father would have much to say against it if I could produce multiple heirs at once.”

“Jaehaerys!” Rhaenyra laughed, slapping his arm in mock disgust, “There are ladies present. You cannot use such language!”

Faking confusion, Harry squinted and looked around the yard, “I see only Lady Alicent. Where are these other ladies you speak of?” before breaking out into loud laughter as his sister hit his arm half a dozen more times.

“My Prince,” the siblings’ attention were drawn away from each other to Alicent who had her hands held tightly in front of her, picking at her nails as she had done their whole lives as a habit of nerves. “Princess Rhaenyra and I were actually sent to inform you that His Grace wishes to speak to you in his chambers. I believe it was urgent.”

“I believe, brother, it has something to do with your upcoming vows.” Rhaenyra teased, pinching her brother’s arm before wrapping her arm around his, “Come on. Alicent, Ser Criston, and I will accompany you to make sure you don’t get lost.”

“How kind,” Harry murmured tensely, his gaze slipping back to Alicent as he offered his free arm for her to do the same as Rhaenyra.

“My Prince,” Alicent whispered, wrapping her arm around the one he had offered.

Harry offered a smile to her, trying to comfort her and get her to relax so they could - even for a short while - pretend as if they were all children again, comfortable in each other’s presence without the expectations of their births getting in the way.

The walk wasn’t too long, but before they reached the King’s chambers, Rhaenyra was pulled away by her Septa who was already scolding the Princess for being late to her lessons. Harry dismissed Ser Criston with one last thank you for accompanying them and for helping him train, and then it was just the Prince and Lady Alicent.

They walked in silence, neither too sure of what to say it seemed.

Just as they got to the King’s private chambers, Alicent brought a hand up to grab Harry’s. She was shaking slightly and when Harry met her gaze, her eyes were wide and full of something that the Prince couldn’t identify.

“Harry,” Alicent whispered, leaning toward him ever so slightly, “Will you come to me afterwards? And tell me what the King says? Will you tell me who he has chosen for you?”

Fear. Terror. Anxiety.

So many emotions and the girl in front of him was feeling them all.

“My Lady, I promise as your friend and as your Prince. You will be the first to know.” and Harry leaned down, placing a brief kiss to Alicent’s cheek before he pulled away and stepped into his father’s chambers, the door having been opened the moment the two of them had gotten close enough.

The King was seated at his replica of Valyria when Harry stepped inside and bowed, calling out to him softly with a, “Your Grace.”

Viserys didn’t say anything until the door was shut behind him, and then he gestured for his son to move closer and sit down beside him. It was only after Harry was seated beside him that Viserys asked, “Is your issue with me remarrying or with who my…chosen prospects are?”

“You cannot marry someone younger than your heir. It…you do not need more heirs. You have myself and Rhaenyra, Daemon and Rhaenys, and yes even Laena and Laenor distantly. Marry another widow; someone who can sympathize with your pain and who is in the same place. Someone who will be a gentle Queen for the realm and a needed stepmother for Rhaenyra.”

Viserys laughed softly and flashed his son a smile, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, “You have grown wise, Harry. Your Mother would be proud. I know that I am.”

Harry nodded, “Thank you, Father.”

The Prince looked his father over, noting how he looked tired but not too unfit. One of the fingers on his left hand was bandaged, but Harry was quick to dismiss it; it was the iron throne, most likely. The King always cut himself on the throne.

“If you were too choose a wife, Harry, who would it be?”

The Prince frowned, ‘Your Grace? I…Rhaenyra. In the style of our House and as it was decided at her birth.”

“Was it?” Viserys laughed with a raised brow, “And who decided that? Who told you that?”

“I…well…” No one had. The Prince had always assumed that he would marry Rhaenyra, though. His parents were cousins, his grandparents were siblings, his great grandparents were siblings, and so on. There were inter-House Targaryen marriages going back since the beginning of written history from what the Prince of Dragonstone knew. He had never been told he wouldn’t marry Rhaenyra and so he had always assumed…

“If I could marry anyone I…I have never given it any thought.” He had settled on the idea that his sister would be his bride; he had never allowed himself the liberty of thinking of anyone else being his wife.

“You have two options.”

“And the one I don’t choose you will?” Harry asked, bitterly

The King shook his head, “For now, we will focus on you and your heirs.”

The Prince’s options were the same as his father. Laena Velaryon or Alicent Hightower.

Laena was twelve and just a child. She was from a strong and wealthy house with Targaryen blood. Lord Corlys would want to start a war if she wasn’t chosen, but Princess Rhaenys had never crossed Harry as the sort to go to war over a succession that was decided decades earlier.

Alicent was only a year or two younger than the Prince, and had grown up alongside him. They had been friends in their youth and Harry had always held a fondness for his sister’s dearest friend. House Hightower were powerful in their own right, and had no such ties beyond Otto and Alicent that would prevent them from starting a war if they so wished.

“Harry…” the King began to say

The Prince shook his head and interrupted with, “Alicent. I choose Lady Alicent.”

House Velaryon would reconcile in time over their hurt pride.

House Hightower were sneaky and needed to be kept as close as possible.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

And in a rat nest like King’s Landing, that couldn’t be a truer statement.

ALRIGHTY! Thank you to everyone who read this to the end! It's deeply appreciated!

I hope you all enjoyed it! And if you would like a second part (which I am considering!) feel free to comment below or send me an ask/message!

Please stay safe wherever you are!

~ Atlex Writes :D

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chickenkupo · 8 months

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Hello, everyone! Welcome to the Coop! I'm Girl_In_The_Chicken_Suit on AO3, welcome to my journey of venturing into the world of writing as well as other hobbies like never before. I'm your typical weeb that's a little obsessed with husbandos and wants to write them in silly, fun, dramatic, adventurous stories that hopefully you all will enjoy as well. I'm an avid anime watcher, manga reader and gamer. I'm mainly starting out writing for Genshin Impact but I hope to expand that one day!

I'm hoping to get a little bit more experience with writing through this platform, provide teasers/updates on in progress works, and eventually meet my goal of writing my first novel! I'm currently in the very early stages of that, but fingers crossed, one day I will get there!

This post I will keep pinned with links to all of my written works on AO3, as well as little scribble works I may post here with some summaries and all that good stuff. I'll probably end up reworking this post a million times over, so no, you're not crazy if you come here and see one template for this, come again and it's a whole new situation.

Thank you for paying me a visit, and I hope I can provide you with some entertainment during all of your doom scrolling!

Funnily enough, I just recently picked up writing and oh my gosh, I honestly did not expect you all to like my writing style of my chaotic little stories. I actually started out on social media mainly to promote my cosplays! I've been a cosplayer for about 10 years now and have wanted to go more in depth with it, so a majority of my socials are heavily invested in that. If you're interested (and want to witness my chaotic self even more), check out the links below!

Socials:

Instagram: HolySoulA

TikTok: Britasin

Twitter: ChckenKupo

Twitch: britasin

AO3: Girl_in_the_Chicken_Suit

Cosplay Tumblr: Britasin

FanFiction Works:

AO3 Works:

Coming Home: Neuvillette/Wriothesley

The world is going through hell, literally. Vampires are roaming the villages and cities under the cover of night, taking humans left and right as livestock, or worse. Humanity has grown to have minuscule hope, but some have decided to rise and defend what little they have left. Enduring intense training since the moment they could hold a weapon firmly, the Vitae Linea have fought against the vampires for years, an ancient organization that wields more power than your average human.

Even with them on humanity’s side, hope is still nearly nonexistent.

Wriothesley, having worked his way through the ranks of organization, has become one of the most coveted members. Through his unique fighting style, sheer strength, and knowledge of the arcane, he has become somewhat of a legend between the two races.

As his battle against the creatures of the night continues, he catches the attention of a certain Vampire Lord who wishes to put his skills to the ultimate test.

Just how does this Vampire Lord know details of himself that he has never shared with anyone else, ones he has hidden even from everyone? Why, also, does this man seem so familiar to him, where even his body recognizes him with ease?

I Promise: Neuvillette/Wriothesley (Part 1 of Judgement & Punishment)

Wriothesley is known for being organized, calculating and strategic when it comes to being the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. However, when it comes to his own safety and personal well-being, he is severely lacking, and this doesn’t go unnoticed at all. Many of his colleagues, comrades and even the love of his life are witnesses of this dynamic every day.

Especially that certain hydro dragon lover of his that’s completely smitten and obsessed with him.

Unfortunately, all it takes is one near-fatal encounter for Neuvillette to give into his anxieties and instincts, making a rash decision that will prevent Wriothesley from ever coming close to another dire situation like this again.

A rash decision that may be as fatal with consequences as the one fateful encounter did.

Now for the Next Act: Neuvillette/Wriothesley (Part 2 of Judgement & Punishment)

Fontaine has successfully dodged a catastrophic crisis, though not without a great deal of loss. Many citizens have gathered around in support of each other, relying on the previous roles of leadership to give them hope that things will return to how they were before. Hope is abundant, spirits are now high, and the future seems so bright.

Neuvillette has faced many challenges within his long life, and helping to rebuild a nation that has had so much instability in the past will not prove to be easy. Not only does he have the weight of a nation on his shoulders, but he also has a newly claimed mate that consumes his every waking thought, worry and love.

Wriothesley notices that his lover isn’t quite the same since the day Fontaine was saved from imminent destruction, but the frantic activities within the Fortress of Meropide have kept him completely distant from his mate.

Both men are working hard for the nation that they love, to keep justice and order together in harmony once more. However, the whispers of the former archon keep echoing through Neuvillette’s mind, and the longer he ponders, the more he realizes that what he and Wriothesley have is something to be proud of.

Teaser at the end...

The Worthy Treasure: Zhongli/Reader

To steal from a dragon is unacceptable. To try to escape one, is even worse.

When a certain dragon sees you in the crowd, he simply can't get enough. Everything about you, he wants to keep for himself.

If only you had trusted your instincts.

You Listened, Now Stay: Venti/Reader

The time for Weinlesefest is upon Mondstadt! The people are merry, bright, and full of cheer as they celebrate all that which brings them together in the form of favored alcoholic beverages! It’s certainly a time to enjoy, and enjoy they do! This time of year, the Anemo Archon truly delights as he takes the bountiful offerings made out to him.

Especially the offering he ends up taking for himself.

You were just trying to do the right thing for everyone, including yourself.

Boy, Do I Hate You: Scaramouche/Reader

You just wanted your life to go back to normal, before the Vision Hunt Decree.

You wanted your friends back, safe and sound.

You definitely didn't want this vision and a Fatui Harbinger after you.

Tumblr Exclusives:

Comfort Care: Neuvillette/Wriothesley

After handling the incident with the Beret Society, Wriothesley begins to doubt his self-worth. His lovely partner offers him a moment of reprieve to remind him of his true value.

Happy Birthday, Duke!: Neuvillette/Wriothesley

Wriothesley was never the one to celebrate his birthday, opting instead to keep it hush-hush, and devote himself to his work. Maybe he gets a fine dinner from the Coupon Cafeteria, or makes one extra cup of tea for himself, but that's normally it. Just a nice, calm day is all he wanted.

However, a certain hydro dragon has different plans for his mate this year, and he's not about to let Wriothesley escape or avoid enjoying it.

I Just Want My Tea: Neuvillette/Wriothesley

*Tumblr early access, will be posted to AO3 as well*

Wriothesley, the busy man that he is, doesn’t notice that his tea stash is getting rather low, no thanks to Sigewinne taking her share since she considers it payback for what Neuvillette and him put her through once he was claimed. It wasn’t until after a shift at the Fortress of Meropide, however, that he noticed this. After going to the home that he and his mate, Neuvillette, share, he vows that the next morning he will run to the nearest grocery market to take note of their goods, and purchase some more that suit his tastes perfectly. He drools just thinking about it.

However, Neuvillette is starting to feel a sort of odd heat beneath his skin recently, and it only gets worse as the days go by. He constantly finds himself staring at his love when they are together, and when they are apart, he can only think of having his man back in his embrace, littering him with possessive affection and a viscous need. He’s finding it hard to let Wriothesley go anywhere without him, now, this heat feeling like it is reaching its peak.

But, the man desperately wants his tea, and the dragon wants his man. The compromise? Why, of course the dragon sovereign is going to turn into a little noodle version of his full dragon form, and go with him! Why, you ask, would he do this?

Well, how else is he going to pleasure the both of them while out in public?

TLDR: Horny noodle dragon is in his heat and tries to get freaky with his mate while he just wants to do some simple grocery shopping. Chaos ensues.

Just My Luck: Neuvillette/ Wriothesley

(I caved and also shared this on AO3, because it was so damn long)

The lands are ruled by ruthless gods of various levels of power. Humanity is only a means to an end for their endless desires, if they happen to gain their attention. Many lay low, do what they can to appease the gods and try to live their lives out, as best they can, given the circumstances. Wriothesley is one such mortal. Having committed a great crime as a young boy, he’s constantly fleeing from his past. Little did he know; however, his constant misfortunes lead to his destiny, and it is most certainly not what he was expecting.

Just My Luck Chapter 2: Neuvillette/Wriothesley

As Wriothesley and Neuvillette continue their sensual activities, more starts to develop about his current situation and steps moving forward. What's this about the claim law? Why is he having to meet with other people? One final return to his land? A single wish?

Wait, he didn't ask for this choker!

Not Expected: Neuvillette/Wriothesley

Happy Birthday, Neuvillette! Sorry I was so late to posting it D:

Fontaine continues to see better days ahead, as many friends and families have come together to help one another prepare for a happy season for them all. The Neuvillette's birthday and the Fontainalia Film Festival are finally almost here, the laughter of children and others alike are finally returning to the streets once again with creative celebration and games. Those within the creative arts have come together to perform for the crowds, engaging them to have their Fontain sparks return to their souls as the nation begins anew, and a celebration of the infamous Iudex was never one to miss. All is well for most citizens…

Except for a certain hydro dragon.

Shouldn’t Wriothesley be wanting to spend some time with him, leading up to the Fontainalia Film Festival? Especially Neuvillette’s birthday, since that’s also right before the event? Why then, is Wriothesley suddenly out during all times of the night? Coming back with a scent of another, and avoiding any sort of confrontation that concerns his whereabouts?

Neuvillette loves his soulmate dearly, but he has questions that must be answered, and he can be a rather demanding dragon when the need arises…

Treasure Hoard: Neuvillette/Wriothesley

As Neuvillette returns from his spontaneous trip from Liyue and delivers some gifts to Wriothesley, the duke starts to notice odd things happening around their shared living space. More objects keep appearing in their bedroom, treasures that don't make sense to Wriothesley such as shells, trinkets, gemstones and even various different type of tea cups. He swears up and down he hasn't been the one to purchase any of these goods, and when questioning Sigewinne about it, she's just as lost as he is.

What exactly is going on, and why does Neuvillette seem so pleased with himself?

Story Eggs

These are short stories that I have had stuck in my mind for a while that have the potential to become full works. I've decided to finally start writing them all out, and if it garners enough want and I feel like I'm ready to write more, it will become a full work, either a single chapter or multi-chapter release on AO3. This gives me the opportunity to share more writings with you all, while also testing the waters on my ideas and you not having to wait a million years. It's a win, win! In my opinion, at least. If the eggs get enough love from both myself wanting to write more, and you commenting or kudo'ing a decent amount, it will 'hatch' into a full work! Get it? I thought it was clever, at least!

Domestic Days: Neuvillette/Wriothesley

Summary: Modern AU. Just your normal average every day domestic life with the two husbands and their adoptive daughter. Only, not so very normal, but so very adorable in the end.

Warnings: Mention of violence, death, and emergency medical situations.

Thank you for all of your support, it means the absolute world to me! ♥

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loverhymeswith · 2 years

Note

Request for the Enough universe, a story/drabble of us overcoming a moment of adversity in our relationship (a fight, an argument, or some other kind of conflict).

Catch Me If I Fall | Stephen Holder x F!Reader

Enough Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 810 words

A/N: Thank you for the request @sociiallydiisoriiented . I hope you don't mind, but this was a very loose interpretation of "conflict". I'm starting a new job today, so it was very self indulgent 😂 Thank you @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading 💖

“If you ain’t gonna open it, I will.”

Holder lunges for the envelope that’s been sitting on the kitchen table for the best part of two days. The unassuming white envelope that just so happens to contain your fate. Your future.

“Stephen, no!”

But it’s too late; the letter now balances between your partner’s thick and capable fingers as he holds it just out of your reach. You tug at his sleeve but to no avail.

There isn’t a trace of amusement to be found in Holder’s expression as he stares down at you, brows creased and lips drawn into a thin line.

“Stop bein’ a coward. What’s the worst that’s gonna happen? If you failed, just take the damn test again.”

You shake your head, nerves threatening to overwhelm you as you tear your attention away from the letter and focus on him instead. He doesn’t understand. And how could he? You haven’t exactly been forthcoming about your fears – not now, and certainly not in the past.

“Maybe it’s not failing that I’m worried about.” You risk a shy glance up at him.

Confusion is now written across his face, replacing the frustrated glares that he’s been shooting your way for the last day and a half. “What you talkin’ about?”

You take a deep breath. “If I passed the course and they promote me, everything is going to change. You understand that, right?” Gesturing between the two of you, you throw him a meaningful look. “We won’t be partners anymore. Best case scenario, I would be your boss. Worst case, they could move me to a different department... or a different precinct.”

Holder’s eyes soften with understanding and he lowers his arm slowly, until the envelope is back within your reach. “That what you’re worried about?”

Shoulders slumping, you cast your gaze to the floor. The beginnings of embarrassment prickle beneath your skin, warming your cheeks. “You think I’m being stupid.”

He drops the envelope onto the table and takes you by the arms instead. “Course not, baby. Makes perfect sense. But you’ve been workin’ for this your whole life. Don’t throw it away just cos of this face.” He flashes you a disarming smile. “Even if we don’t work together, I’m still gonna be the one you come home to every night, a’ight? You’re still gonna wake up beside me every mornin’. Ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily.”

He tilts your chin up, until you have no choice but to stare back into his soft hazel eyes. “It don’t matter what that piece of paper says. Sergeant or not, I’m still gonna love you.”

His words hit their mark and your heart grows by at least one size. A timid smile tugs at your lips. You want to believe him; you do believe him. But there’s something else that’s bothering you. Something more insidious, eating away at your insides.

“What if I go back to the way I was before? Before us. What if the new responsibility is too much and I can’t separate between work and the rest of my life? What if I-”

You’re interrupted mid-sentence by a soft pair of lips crashing against yours. Holder kisses you firmly, thoroughly, his hands rising to cup your jaw, his thumbs skating over the swell of your cheeks. It’s the kind of kiss that pushes everything else to the back of your mind, leaving you with thoughts of nothing but this man and the depth of your feelings for him.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you find yourself breathless and bewildered. “What was that for?”

He grins wickedly. “I learnt a while ago that it’s the most effective way to shut you up.”

Blinking in surprise, you can’t even find it in yourself to be mad at him. Not when he kisses you like that. You’d probably have forgotten your own name if it wasn’t still staring up at you from the envelope in question.

Brushing a strand of hair from your eyes, he continues to watch you with love and pride shining on his beautiful face. Your heart swells even further and it’s all you can do not to melt into his arms.

��If you ever find yourself fallin’ down that hole again, I’m here to catch you, a’ight? We’re in this together and I ain’t lettin’ anythin’ happen to you. You feel me?”

You nod, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall, because surely you don’t deserve him. Surely, there’s been a mistake.

“I love you, Stephen.” All at once, it’s a promise and a plea. An affirmation. A mantra. He is the centre of your universe; the one thing keeping you in orbit. Without him you’d be drifting alone through space. “I love you, so much.”

“Good.” He releases you, only to hand you the letter. “Now, open the damn thing.”

Joel Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @yespolkadotkitty @skvatnavle @sociiallydiisoriiented @heresathreebee @mayhem24-7forever @edwardbaldwin @fairchildflag @bewitchedignition @immyownlittlebitch @s-u-t @kirsteng42 @katjnordstrom96 @lavenderluna10 @weallhaveadestiny

#Stephen Holder #joel kinnaman #the killing #stephen holder x you #stephen holder x female reader #enough #the killing fanfic #the killing fanfiction

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pedros-mustache · 3 years

Text

convenience

summary: he was within arm’s reach. that’s all.

warnings: suggestions of harassment, alcohol consumption, language, innuendo

a/n: no thoughts, frankie morales and his broad shoulders only. poorly edited so forgive any mistakes you find. i’ll go back and fix soon.

you rarely come to the bar alone. tonight is an anomaly.

grabbing drinks after a long work week is more enjoyable with friends by your side, and you frequent this particular watering hole what feels like every friday but can’t be more than twice a month. life is busy for you and what friends remain from your college days. babies and partners and jobs—it keeps everyone running to and fro like chickens with their heads cut off. (for you, of course, it’s just the job that’s got you strung out. no husband, no babies. that shouldn’t matter, but sometimes it does.) still, despite hectic schedules, there’s a standing date a few times a month: friday, eight o’clock, the booth with the cracked-plastic seat coverings in the far right corner.

you like the noisy atmosphere of this place, and it’s easy to lose a few hours while gossiping over cheap margaritas, a whitney houston song thumping over the tinny loudspeakers. the air smells like cigarette smoke—that’s your only qualm—but the drinks are cheap, the food is passable, and it’s a chance to let loose and really enjoy yourself after a five days of business boredom.

of course, that’s what “the hot bird” is like most of the time. today is different. today is tuesday, it’s six-thirty, and you really shouldn’t be here alone.

you twirl the thin plastic straw around your drink and risk a glance over your shoulder. there’s a guy in your regular booth—red-faced with alcohol, tie loosened, dress shirt two sizes too big. you know he’s staring at you because you can feel his eyes on your back, your hips, your ass; he’s anything but discreet. his stare hurts like a healing sunburn: itchy, uncomfortable, hard to ignore. even from across the bar, his focus is unyielding, and you doubt he’s one to be easily dissuaded, not with the rabble-rousing friends at his booth, jostling drinks and shoulders alike. you imagine he’s biding his time, waiting for you to feel comfortable so he can strike. which is exactly what you need after being passed up for promotion (again): a drunk asshole bent on making your shitty day worse just for the hell of it.

the bartender—josh—says your name and sets a cocktail down on the counter in front of you. “here,” he says. he jerks his chin forward, indicating the back of the room. “it’s from the guy in the back.”

“oh god.” you resist the urge to look over your shoulder again. the muscles in your neck twitch, scream at you to turn and appraise the self-satisfied smirk on this guy’s face, but you hold still. you are nothing if not resolute in your determination to mind your on business, wallow in self pity, and get home without much of a fuss. “what the fuck is this thing?”

josh cringes. “it’s a b-52, our least popular drink.”

“it looks like spilled motor oil and congealed grease had a baby.”

to your right, in the barstool two over from yours, there’s a snort of amusement. your eyes snap to the side, but don’t register the other patron before josh is tapping your wrist. you hold your breath, stomach clenching at the conciliatory look on his face.

“don’t look now. i think he’s coming over.”

“of course he is,” you mutter, dropping your forehead to your palm. fuck, you really do not want to cry right now, but tears prick the corners of your eyes anyway. traitorous bastards. it’s been a long day, and you aren’t sure you have the mental fortitude to tactfully tell some guy to piss off without causing a scene or bursting into a blubbering mess.

“i can tell him—”

a smooth, unflustered voice cuts josh off mid-sentence. “no, let me.”

a half-filled pint of beer and a plastic basket of fries slide across the counter, and then a man, shoulders broad and trucker cap pulled low, drops to the stool beside you. you gape at him, jaw hanging. the guy from two stools over—eavesdropper.

“unless,” he continues. “you want to tell him to fuck off yourself. i’m sure you can—you look like a capable woman—but i know men and sometimes...” he trails off, but you catch his drift well enough. you know men too, and the men who frequent this bar are often of the seedier variety.

except maybe not this guy... he seems nice enough, willing to lend a hand, and after the day you’ve had, you’ll take any help you can get. plus he’s easy on the eye, and it’s been awhile since anyone with such a handsome face paid you any mind.

you twist slightly in your stool, turning your body to face him. you open your mouth to offer your name, but he beats you to it, sliding his hand over the low, curved back of your stool. his presence—so masculine yet so gentle—crowds you, and you fight the urge to suck in a sharp breath. mouth hovering over your ear, he lowers his voice, and his opposite hand, long fingers splayed outwards, settles on the counter. you’re boxed in, an arm on either side of your body, but, strangely, it feels... good, safe even.

“i’m frankie,” he says. “just follow my lead, and we’ll both be out of your hair in no time.”

you turn your face to meet frankie’s eyes. he’s so near you can feel his breath on your cheeks, could kiss his plush lips if you dared. his smile, small but encouraging, eases the clench in your stomach. your gaze drifts from his warm, brown eyes to the thumb-sized spot on his chin absent the fine layer of scruff otherwise covering his jaw. god, he’s handsome.

“uh—excuse me? i couldn’t help but notice you ignored the drink i sent over.” the man from the back of the room leans against the counter, his gaze tight on your face, elbows poised casually on the bar. his voice belies none of the uncertainty he should probably feel when confronted with your obvious disinterest and frankie’s breadth. “picked my favorite for a sweet thing like you.”

gritting your teeth, you turn your head. “thanks, but i don’t think—” your resolve wavers when the man’s fat lips spread into a grin. shit, he likes this doesn’t he—how uncomfortable you are? he reminds you of richard, the guy who got the promotion you deserve: smarmy and entirely too good at weaseling. your stomach sours.

“you can’t turn me down until you at least take a sip of the thing.” reaching over his chest, the man picks up the cocktail. the three distinct layers jostle in the small shot glass.

perhaps he sees the fine sheen of tears that rush to your eyes or perhaps it’s just to make a point, but frankie’s hand drops to your thigh. the warmth of his palm filters through the mesh of your tights. without thinking, you twine your fingers through his and squeeze.

“she said no, man.”

for the first time, your would-be-suitor’s stare slides to focus on frankie. he arches a thin eyebrow. there’s no mistaking the way his chest inflates as frankie straightens his spine. “yeah? and who are you?”

frankie speaks without hesitation. “her boyfriend.”

the man huffs, incredulous. “well, you didn’t claim her before now so i’m just taking my shot. free pick, ya know? first come first serve.”

frankie slides from the stool to standing. he’s near the same height as the other man, but there’s something about the clench in his jaw and the way his fingers tighten around yours and the way he moves to grip your shoulder than has you leaning into him despite the anger rolling off him in sharp waves. your shoulder pushes against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and you hold your breath.

“say that again and i’ll crack your skull open on the counter.”

the man blinks, stunned, then laughs. it’s a harsh, nervous bark. his eyes flit to the back of the room then return to frankie. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. what are you? some macho man?”

“no—retired special forces. i can and i will make your life a living hell if you don’t crawl back into the hole you came from. leave my lady alone.”

“shit.” the man shakes his head before tossing the rejected cocktail down his throat with a cringe. “ain’t fucking worth it anyway.” he slams the glass down on the counter and, heeding frankie’s advice, returns to sulk in the back booth, tail tucked between his legs.

frankie waits until the asshole is sat snug in his booth before returning to his stool. he pops a now-cold fry in his mouth then tags a long swig of his beer. you watch him and decide you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in your entire life.

“thank you,” you breathe. “i—fuck, i didn’t realize you’d be so... intimidating.”

frankie shrugs, eats another fry. he avoids your eye. “hate to see you treated like that. least i can do.”

you hum in approval, tracing the curve of his nose with your gaze. “i got passed up for a promotion today,” you offer. “put me in a real tailspin. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week.”

fry dangling between his pointer finger and thumb, frankie finally returns his eyes to yours. “i’m sorry to hear that. if it makes you feel any better, i got stood up. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week either.”

“guess we’re just a couple of losers then.” when frankie’s eyebrow lifts, you visibly cringe. you grab his forearm and squeeze your eyes shut. “no, wait—that’s not what i meant. i meant that... in the grand scheme of things, we aren’t... i mean...” squinting, you risk a peek at him. “shit, i’m sorry.”

after a moment, frankie smiles—and your heart leaps to your throat. he motions to josh at the other end of the bar. “what drink do you like?” he asks. “we can make it a real date, if you want? you know, to keep up appearances.”

“a real date?”

he nods. “yeah. i’m not big on fate and shit like that, but... well, maybe i’m big on fate tonight.” his eyes roam your face, and you wonder if he’s drinking you in, memorizing your features. unlike before, his stare is kind, appreciative, reverent. your cheeks heat under his gaze, but you don’t look away.

the corner of your mouth pulls into a grin. “okay.” you smile at josh when he appears. “i like mojitos.”

“really?” at your nod, frankie’s smile widens. “me too.”

you reach for a fry in his basket. “must be fate then,” you say with a shrug.

“yeah.” his hand falls to your thigh again, squeezing the flesh around your knee. you look from his hand to his face, and anything you once thought shitty about the day turns rosy with possibility. “must be fate.”

taglist:

@ezramando @frannyzooey @spvce-cowboy @writings-of-a-hufflepuff @sofsoftheloaf @salome-c @aphr0d1te5 @anu-simps @softermina @spideysimpossiblegirl @mummifymecaptain @sleep-tight1 @thewayofthemandalorian @greeneyedblondie44 @darthpapi @salome-c @just-another-fangirl-22 @stevie75

if your handle is crossed out, tumblr would not let me tag your blog.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pm writes

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gojo-x-reader · 3 years

Text

Red String of Fate

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Warnings: slight swearing, slight manga spoilers

Tags: Soulmate AU

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~2.3k

Request: “Hello I'm actually not sure if I'm supposed to put put my request here? well, if its not supposed to be here, then please ignore it. Anyways, can I ask of you to share your thoughts on Soulmate AU w/ Gojo around 12 to 16 yrs old where he can see signs of who's soulmate is whos meeting his possible fiance who turns out to be his soulmate (I asked that age bc first meeting! he's from a noble clan and its really weird he doesn't have fiance or something) Sorry if its confusing and Thank you!”

Gojo Satoru was twelve years old when his Six Eyes began showing him the red strings of fate. Every person’s string was different. Some of them stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, almost seemingly never reaching the other end. Others were shorter, connected to the person they stood next to (whether they knew of their existence or not). And unfortunately, on some, Satoru could see the end of the string, but it dragged behind someone, unconnected to another human.

Satoru had told his mother about the strings as they appeared. Those are strings that lead one to their soulmate, she had explained to him. Everyone has a soulmate, but not everyone is in love with theirs. There are different kinds of love in this world.

Satoru’s parents were soulmates, but they did not love each other; that much was clear from how his father treated his mother. He never hit her or anything, but he didn’t treat her like an equal; more of a vessel that gave birth to an heir. He only interacted with his wife when necessary, the two not even sleeping in the same room at night.

For that reason, Satoru was scared to meet his own soulmate. He had one, that much was clear by the bright red string tied around his left pinky that stretched on for kilometers. He didn’t want to end up like his parents.

Gojo Satoru was fourteen years old when his father announced that he would be marrying you, a girl from the Kamo clan. You were the youngest daughter in the secondary branch of the family, just a year younger than him. Tomorrow, the two of you would meet for the first time.

You were nervous about tomorrow, for several reasons. Number one, you had heard the rumors about Gojo Satoru--the first member of the Gojo clan to be born with the Six Eyes and Limitless, the two inherited techniques of his clan, in a hundred years or so. That meant, in a nutshell, he was much stronger than you could ever hope to be, as someone who hadn’t even inherited the Kamo clan technique (which is why you were being shipped off to another clan). Number two, you had heard rumors of his personality, somehow both cold and carefree at the same time, but one hundred percent a horrible personality to be combined with your timid and quiet nature. And number three, you almost resented him because now you were stuck in an arranged marriage and you saw how well that worked out for your parents.

Tomorrow arrived, and the maids dressed you up in the finest of kimonos, hair ornaments, and even makeup. You weren’t particularly into girly interests, more interested in training for when you enter Kyoto High in a few years; the feeling of foundation and lipstick felt foreign on your face.

You arrived at the main hall, escorted by your uncle (the head of the Kamo family), your parents, and a few maids. You normally didn’t wear a kimono often, except for very special occasions, and you have never been in one for this long. Graceful, you were not, and tripped a few times because of the geta chosen for you to wear with the kimono. Each time, the maids were swift to grab ahold of your arms and stabilize you. They even helped you sit down as you awaited your future fiance and his parents.

Gojo Satoru’s parents arrived before he did. They apologized on behalf of their son, citing that he was on he was back from a mission. You were jealous, he wasn’t even in high school yet and was already being assigned missions. While you weren’t powerful in comparison to Gojo Satoru himself, you could still hold your own against your older cousins and had a decent amount of cursed energy.

Gojo Satoru’s parents seemed nice enough, but the chemistry between them resembled that of your own parents; they tolerated each other, but that was it--no love, no spark, nothing. You wondered if his parents were also put into an arranged marriage. You could sympathize, but you also secretly hoped that the two of you wouldn’t end up like your parents.

You poured tea for your future in-laws, hands shaking slightly, a few drops of tea spilling. As you sat the teapot down, in came Gojo Satoru himself, dressed in a simple black kimono, but the sash was not tied tightly. His hair was touseled, and stained with either dirt or blood (you hoped it was dirt). Despite his unkempt look, he was gorgeous, with bright white hair and eyes blue like the sky matching neither of his parents. Despite the color differences, he took mostly after his mother with her soft features.

When he made eye contact with you, he froze, looking down at his left hand, and then back to you. Before you could even greet him, he immediately fled the room, both his parents calling after him, leaving after him.

That was a bit painful; your first time meeting him and he leaves immediately seeing your face. You weren’t sure how your self-esteem would recover after that blow.

About twenty minutes later, Gojo Satoru’s parents came back, empty-handed without their son. He refused to meet you, but they promised he would come around eventually. So, your family said your goodbyes and left the Gojo estate.

Once your family arrived back at the Kamo estate, your uncle slapped you across the face, blaming you for what transpired with the Gojo family. It was your looks, your lack of femininity that obviously scared your fiance away. Not even makeup or the finest materials could fix it.

So what, if you weren’t “feminine”? Being “feminine” doesn’t exorcise curses, now does it?

You grumbled an apology, leaving to your room and locking the door behind you. You started crying, ruining the makeup that took the maids hours to do, but not even bothering to care. It took a while to get out of the kimono, but you changed into sweatpants and a large T-shirt and left the offensive material on the floor. Neither of your parents bothered to check in on you, but the head maid did. She cleaned up your makeup and brought you some of your comfort foods. She was more of a mother to you than your own, and you were always grateful for her in your life.

The next time you would meet Gojo Satoru, there would be hell to pay for embarrassing you like this.

Gojo Satoru was sixteen years old when he next met his fiancee, this time on the battlefield rather than mitigated by their families. Kyoto was short by one for the Kyoto Goodwill Event, so you were allowed to join as the sole first year. You were glad for the opportunity because that meant you could finally pay back Gojo Satoru for the embarrassment you felt two years ago.

You were told you had great potential as a jujutsu sorcerer, already being promoted to Semi-Grade 2 as you entered Kyoto High. Of course, you weren’t even close to your fiance who was promoted immediately to Special Grade upon entering Tokyo High. While the power difference between a Semi-Grade 2 and a Special Grade was immense, you weren’t going to let that stop you. You held a lot of pain in your heart for how Gojo Satoru rejected you from one glance, refusing to ever see you again that day.

This was Gojo Satoru’s first Goodwill Event, as last year he was only a first-year and the spots were full from the second and third years last year. Since last year, Kyoto had won, the event was held at your school. Not a single second or third year at Kyoto believed they even had a chance to win this year, as Tokyo has not one but two Special Grade students this year participating in the event. There was only one Grade 1 sorcerer on the Kyoto side, a third-year, while the others were a Grade 2 or Semi-Grade 2. The goal was to stick together; power in numbers. While the two monsters Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru could take out the entire Kyoto team singlehanded most likely, the others on the Tokyo team were rather weak, at only Grade 3.

So, the Kyoto side would stick together, avoid conflict. The goal was to exorcise curses, not necessarily fight each other.

The six of you stuck together, exorcising curse after curse. It was strange, as several minutes passed and you hadn’t even encountered one of the Grade 3 Tokyo sorcerers. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, then a voice behind you announcing, “Hello~”

You turned around quickly, barely able to avoid an attack. There he was, Gojo Satoru in the flesh. He was much, much taller than last time you saw him, now towering over you like a tree. On his (admittedly) handsome face was a smug grin, his bright baby blues peeking out behind round black shades. He held his hands in his pockets in a carefree manner. Almost not like he just attacked you and your senpai.

You glanced back briefly. While you were somehow lucky to avoid the attack from your fiance, your senpai behind you was not. The attack left them unconscious, back against a tree and blood running down their head.

While reading headfirst toward your fiance probably was not a good idea, only rage flowed through your head. You may not have inherited your clan’s cursed technique, you inherited a similar technique but more closely to your mother’s Zenin clan’s technique. You could manipulate shadows, not to summon shikigami, but rather to form weapons.

You summoned the shadows to form a sword, raising it to strike Gojo Satoru. But it reached just centimeters away from his body before stopping, almost like an invisible forced kept it in place, unable to move it further. You stared at your hand in surprise.

“Now, now, is that any way to greet your fiance?” Gojo Satoru asked, grin widening.

“Are you really though?” You asked, jumping back cautiously before he could ready another attack. “You didn’t even want to meet me two years ago.”

He placed his hand onto his chin in thought. “Hmm, I suppose that’s true. Tell you what, land a hit on me and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Bastard,” you called to him, switching your shadow weapon to a bow and arrow, pulling back the shadow string, and releasing it toward him.

Gojo Satoru held up two fingers as the arrow stopped in mid-air, much like your sword earlier. “I don’t think that’s my name, sweetie. Bad luck for you today. Seems like we’re just a bad match.”

You were frustrated. How the hell was he doing that?

A siren sounded out through the forest. The match was over; Tokyo won, only because Gojo Satoru had distracted the Kyoto group while Geto Suguru handled the stranglers and the remaining Grade 3 sorcerers were able to exorcise more curses than your side.

Gojo Satoru disappeared before your eyes, but you heard a whisper in your ear from him, “I’m feeling generous. An hour before the individual matches tomorrow, meet me in the garden. I’ll explain everything.”

So, that’s how you found yourself out in the garden at 8 am, shivering from the morning chill. The garden was huge, but somehow you figured your fiance would be able to find you.

“Yo,” he called out, startling you from your thoughts. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I don’t think highly of you,” you admitted. “You embarrassed me two years ago and my uncle thinks I’m a disgrace to the family now.”

“Yikes, that seems a little harsh. Not like I annulled the engagement or anything. I just was going through some good ole teenage angst then, nothing more.”

“Still going through some ‘teenage angst’?” you questioned.

“Oh, you know, just the normal amount. I died a few months ago and it reset me back to typical teenage angst levels.”

“You what? ”

“But that’s a whole different story. We’re talking about why I left two years ago after seeing you.” He brought a finger up to his lips. “This is top secret. Can’t tell anyone.”

You nodded.

“So, my Six Eyes. I’m sure you’ve heard all about them, being in the Kamo clan and all. It turns out I can also see the red string of fate that brings soulmates together. My parents are soulmates, but they have a shitty relationship.”

“Okay.” You could relate, your parents also have a shitty relationship.

“And they’re the only pair of soulmates I’ve ever known. So,” he grasped his left pinky in yours, “when I saw that red string of mine connect to yours, I panicked. Didn’t want to be forced into a relationship with my own soulmate and end up like my parents. Call me a sappy romantic, but I wanted to meet you and get to know each other on our own, not because we’re in an arranged marriage.”

You couldn’t help but blush. Here was Gojo Satoru, your fiance, one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers in the world, proclaiming that you were his soulmate. It seemed ridiculous, but you didn’t think he was lying. Suddenly, all the resentment for that time a few years ago left.

You took your pinky out of his, looking away from him in embarrassment, then stated, “There’s nothing that says we can’t do all that while still being engaged. Lets.” You took a deep breath, looking straight at those brilliant blue eyes past his sunglasses, then continued. “Let start over. Get to know each other the right way and see where this takes us.”

He grinned. It was the first time you saw him smile with pure happiness behind it. “I like that idea, soulmate.”

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #soulmate au

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xfeliciahardyx · 3 years

Text

Title: The things that change us

Summary: It was the fact that he never offered his help as a friend. He wasn't the perfect person to tell you his feelings and sometimes he would lock you out. But you had been the worst as you had suffered at his expense, you would have thought he'd care a little more.

Pairing: Tony Stark x enhanced! childhoodbestfriend!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of missiles, suggested sexual assault, suggested physical assault, weapons, loki fights thor, pure angst,

Author’s note: Just a heads up this was in the airport from civil war. This was from a while ago and I kinda lost interest in it but ain’t nothing Melanie can’t fix. It’s unedited i think who knows what I did in a daze for this. probably gonna get re done later the scenes are giving me hives.

Taglist link here

Your hands glowed purple as your weapons appeared in your hands. The man in the red suit was your target and at this point nothing was going to stop you from reaching him. He had treated you like the scum beneath the Earth these past few years. It had hurt knowing he had believed you wanted to take over New York. You and Loki had been imprisoned beneath Asgard with life sentences. Tony didn't ask questions. He just left you to your fate. He never cared that you were being controlled by the scepter. That anything you did in that time period wasn't you. Not fully you at least. A part of you had always resented your dear friend Stark. It hadn't been the brains or good looks that he was well known for. Nor was it his charisma or his ridiculously enthusiastic personality. It was the fact that he never looked at you and truly got what you were going through. What you had gone through at least. The experience wasn't one you had an easy time forgetting. You had been the one who got kidnapped with him. The one they had used against him. You were well known throughout the city. Tony Stark's childhood friend! People came to you to get invites to his functions. They used your name to get back stage. You were the beauty behind the brains in the billionaire and everyone adored you. That's what made you so vulnerable. You had never understood the severity of the people who wanted to take Tony Stark down. Naive in a way that you know now you'll never be again. The way they had abused you and used your own body against you still haunted you in ways you could never forget. You had been a pawn in their stupid game to have Stark work for them. You would still wake up in the middle of the night screaming as your flesh burned from the memory. His protests ringing in your mind as they ruined pieces of your body with a hot iron. It wasn't his fault and you knew this now but it still didn't stop your hatred from growing for him. Had he never promoted you as his best friend this never would have happened. You were okay with no spotlight, just being the secret weapon of Stark Industries but he had wanted you in the public eye. He had placed you in the scenario. He had put you in danger. Your anger from that situation he put you through only grew with the mind stones control over you. It was an accident, you being over come by the mind stones. You had been on the street walking to your job as you saw Loki's suit from afar. Tony had told you all about what he had planned and so had the strangely handsome brother. You had decided to follow him in the hopes of your self defense training to protect you. It hadn't been your best decision to follow the God of Mischief but your stubbornness had no bounds. Making sure to stay behind the God you avoided his line of sight. He had walked a block away from where you had found him and soon enough in the middle of a street you lost him. You had been furious with yourself and began walking the way you came. You knew the streets of New York almost as well as you knew Stark Industries having lived there your whole life. The shortcuts down alley ways, the best places to eat, and the most certain places to avoid. You were going to be late and you needed that knowledge of shortcuts. That's where things got bad per say. Going down the alley by Broadway had not been a good idea as the God of Mischief himself hadn't been lost at all. He had tailed you the entire way. His staff had you pinned to the wall as terror resided in your eyes. One small tap to your chest and you were a puppet again. You knew that it wasn't entirely anyone's fault but your own that you kept finding your ways into a bad situation. It was the fact that he never offered his help as a friend. He wasn't the perfect person to tell you his feelings and sometimes he would lock you out. But you had been the worst as you had suffered at his expense, you would have thought he'd care a little more. You never mentioned it to him and became the dutiful receptionist who filed his appointments to his orders. Even after two years you couldn't get past it and the stone only amplified those feelings. As the time went by you got worst as you were in cahoots with Loki. He had convinced you to become more powerful, to be his experiment. Or at least the person behind the stone had. It wasn't until Tony had found the a fragment of the power stone fused with Loki's energy connected to your body that he cut you off. It wasn't enough for him to ask questions. To see you as the loyal friend who had tried so hard to be there for him. For him to realize that you hadn't wanted it all to happen. That the logical part of your brain had screamed at all of your actions. That maybe if he hadn't been so obsessed with being Iron man that he could see his best friend for so many years drowning in plain sight. Even now on the abandoned airstrip you could see he would never understand you. Not the way that Loki did. The time in prison had changed the both of you. Escaping hadn't been the best of methods but it was something that you both needed. A friendship had bloomed between the two of you and you were ready to go out into the world. At every stop Tony was there to make your life miserable and put your life at a stand still. It was enough to make you go insane. You turned to your companion, Loki, who held his daggers. He nodded in your direction and you mirrored his action. Combat came easier to you now that Loki had become your mentor. He trained you like an Asguardian and you saw yourself as one. Never again would you stoop as low to the sight of Iron man now that you yourself were just as powerful, if not more powerful.

"Hey there babe. Long time no see." Tony remarked as his mask slid into his suit. He glared at you and Loki as Thor flew in beside him. They were a few feet away from you which was good in a way. It'd give you more of a head start once it came down to the fight. You couldn't take your eyes off of Tony's suit though. If the two of you were going to do this you had to memorize every look to it.

"Don't call me that." you snap your eyes glowing the same purple as your hands had a moment before. You wanted to snap him in half for the pain he had caused you. The logical side of you told you to wait that your time would come. But as he stared at you with a glint of humor in his eyes your rage grew. If it weren't for Loki's hand moving into yours you would have gone off the rails. He was the beacon of your hate and you truly couldn't believe he could be happy while you suffered.

"Really Loki? You care for this Midguardian?" Thor scoffs. Loki's grip on your hand tightens and you squeeze his back. Loki knew how Thor would respond to him and you being friends. You bot knew there would be nothing more than a mutual understanding of the other. It was the jail under Asgard that made the two of you develop a system whenever the two of you didn't want to talk but were in pain. It wasn't something that came easy to either of you but for the two of you to work you needed to know the other like the palm of your hand. You would hold each other's hands in comfort which happened to be the only affectionate thing you'd known him to do.

"Not in the way you think Brother. She's the only one who understands what it's like to be unloved. To be the shadow in anothers presence. She understands me far more than you ever will." He snarls at Thor and turns to you with a nod. You nod back knowing it was something the two of you had expected. You both had suspected that they'd get personal. Want to know your reasons.

"Unloved? Seriously Y/n you really believe that?" Tony asks the hurt audible in his voice. You take a step forward and hate the strike of pain in your heart at his words.

"You don't know the half of it Tony."

"Really? Give it to me." you scoff and let go of Loki's hand. With a deep breath you began your process of clearing your mind. You knew if you concentrated hard enough you could summon a weapon in your hands. You just had to settle your emotions and picture it in your mind and it would be in your hands. It was a useful in your plans and for proving your point. The iron rod that had plagued you for so many years manifests in seconds as it plagued your dreams far too often and you feel it form. You feel it made out of rage and pain. Yours and only yours. That was what Tony didn't understand. You were you and he would be him. He took scrap and made it into gold and you took your pain and made it into a weapon. Not everyone faced trauma the same way and it made you hate him even more. You look at his face as the hot poker gets hotter at the tip and his eyes soften. He knew exactly what you were getting at and he thought it was best to pity you.

"Yeah that's the other half babe. I still have the nightmares. I still have the scars. You got a shiny suit and a name." you growl throwing the poker at him. The tip hits his arm as he blocks it from hitting his face. His eyes widen before they turn cold and he looks around. His eyes sharpen on the helicopters in the sky before he turns to you.

"Well alright I'm guessing asking you to come with us is too far gone by now. What I see is a one-sided fight seeing as we can fly and you can't. So do yourself a favor and sit tight." he says raising an iron clad arm towards you. You hold up a finger and shake it mockingly. You let out a small laugh as your brain provides a full image of the suit on your figure. Your body lifts into the air as a purple mist surrounds your body. Your senses become heightened as the image in your mind sharpens. The mist has formed a wall around you and Loki's voice calls to you in your mind.

"Focus how you feel. Make it in your image. Forge it out of your pain and suffering. Out of the pain you've held on to far too long. Let them fall with him." You scream as your body feels like it's on fire. Everything flashes around you as your reality and imagination blurs. Never before had you manifested something this big before or complex.

"Y/n!" Tony yells breaking your focus for a moment. You're lost in the smoke and your determination pushes you forward. You hear the clangs of metal hitting metal and the faint thought of Loki fighting for you flies away like a faint dream. Your feet point to the ground as the metal forms around your ankles. The purple and silver swirls on the armor rise up your legs masking them in titanium. You watch as the metal covers your legs sliding around your torso. Your hands start the same process and you pull your hands in front of you as you watch the metal spread like a disease. Like your hatred. A cruel grin spreads across your features as the center of your palm has a silver glow to it so similar to the yellow one on Tony's. The metal's up to your chest on and you feel it click into place fitting you to a T. The purple and silver covers your body now and the mist starts to fade. Your feet lower to the ground and the last of the metal forms on your head. It slides into your suit as you drop to the ground your hair billowing in the wind. Tony's expression is full of shock as he stares at an exact replica of his suit designed to your body type.

"You're no the only one with tricks up your sleeve Tony." you grin your hand shooting out towards him. A laser blast shoots at him that he easily dodges. The mask of his suit covers his face in seconds and yours does the same. His hands fly to his sides and shoot golden lasers, lifting him off the ground. You mimic his actions silver trailing behind him. You glance back and see Loki and Thor fighting with their instruments of choice and feel a pang of guilt. You should be down there helping him defeat his brother. No doubt Thor was throwing how wrong he beloved Loki to be in his face.

"I'll be fine darling. Go get your revenge." Loki replies in your mind.

"You know we've talked about this."

"Yes to not read your mind. Now go get him Y/n." you laugh as you twirl your suit in the air as a canon launches at you from in front of you. That you would get. The perks of being Tony's assistant for so many years was that you knew just about everything. His love for Pepper. His friendship with Happy. His weaknesses. His suits diagnostics. You knew everything about that suit he was wearing and trying to use. You knew all the weak points and all the ways you could get him to scream. The AI in your suit warns you of an incoming missile. Tony's positioned in front of you two missiles flying directly at you. You grin as one comes shooting for your chest. You dodge it as you lean back in your suit, doing a back flip in the air. The missile continues to follow and you realize he's used his special ones. They'd never been released out of terror of what could happen. They follow the target until it's destroyed.

"AI connect me to Friday. I need to speak with Tony Stark. Don't ask permission." you say into your suit as you narrowly miss the missile that shoots by as you stop mid air. It turns around mid course and heads back in your direction. The AI shows you an image of Stark's concentrated face in the corner of your mask.

"Are you so afraid that you sent out the missile prototypes?"

"Are you so afraid you can't defeat them." he shoots back and you laugh at him.

"Oh how I love to prove you wrong." You shoot past Tony as he sends a third missile your way. You can feel a strip of panic strike your minds defenses but you push it away and stare straight ahead. You're flying directly at the building where you stood earlier and your AI sends warning messages. You know what you're about to do is incredibly insane but you need to do it. The building gets extremely close and time slows. push your hands in front of you and launch yourself upwards. The missiles hit the wall seconds after you're flying away. You hear Tony's curses through the coms unit and smile. You spin in victory and make your way towards Tony.

"My turn." you spit and your silver laser beam collides with his yellow one. Your beams have connected mid air and the sight would have blinded you had it not been for the shields visor.

"Why are you doing this?" Tony grunts as your silver beam pushes his golden one further towards. You smile a cruel smile and drop your beam as you shoot in the sky. You aim your suit downwards after you avoid the blast his suit releases. You see him from where you start flying towards him. Your hands reach out and they shoot a blast at his chest. He goes flying towards the ground. The com link that connects you to him is ringing with FRIDAY's warnings about system damages. He hits the concrete with a giant thud and you can't help the laugh that comes bubbling out of your throat. You land safely at his feet and you feel your visor slide back into your suit. Tony's face is bloodied and bruised as he stares up at you.

"You wanna know why Tony? You're selfish. You only care about people if they fit into your perfect life. The minute they make a mistake you toss them out like they're disposable. I've known you 25 years Tony. The minute I fucked up trying to help you catch a bad guy that was mind controlling me you tossed me to the curb. See I was wiling to forgive after being kidnapped. After the iron that plagued my skin and mind for years. For the things that made me go mentally insane. You, Tony Stark, you may see me as the villain but I'll tell you a secret." you say walking over towards his head. You crouch down until your eyes have locked on Tony's.

"You created me."

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carothepoet · 4 years

Text

Perspectives

If anyone had asked, Jack would have said that he fell in love first. Somewhere in the murky middle of fiery blue eyes daring him to dismiss her capabilities, the comforting squeeze of her hand when an alien device pinned him to a wall, her uncanny ability to manipulate the laws of physics to save his ass over and over again, and the moment on a Goa’uld vessel with an energy field separating them and death staring them in the face, Samantha Carter had gotten possession of his heart and soul and taken up permanent residence there. That last instance was when he had known it for sure—looking into her panicked eyes and realizing he had two choices: leave her or die with her. Knowing also that there was no choice to be made, because there was no version of him in any reality that could go on living in a world without Carter.

Sir, just go!

NO.

It was a staggering revelation, and it complicated things a whole hell of a lot. He kept it to himself until it was forced out of him, and then he and Carter looked into each other’s eyes, counted the cost, and vowed to never speak of it again. The fate of the galaxy was too important. But no amount of pretending could change the reality, which was that he still loved her beyond all comprehension. He went about the days as normally as possible, leading his team and fighting the endless alien wars, trying not to think about the possibilities of someday, when it was unlikely either of them would stay alive that long. He hoped, at least, that he would go first. There is only so much loss a man can take.

Four years later, after he had saved the planet countless times and nearly died in every single instance, he was offered a position at the Pentagon. He jumped at it. Maybe now. Maybe? It seemed too much to hope.

He told Carter. You once asked me what might have been if things had been different. Well, now they’re different. Still interested in finding out?

He’d never forget the light that flooded her eyes, her smile out-dazzling the sun, as she practically launched herself at him and smothered him with a kiss eight years in the making. He’d kissed her once before, when the SGC had been trapped in a time loop. But this was better. This was real. She was kissing him, and she would remember it this time.

And with any luck, there’d be many more kisses to follow.

If anyone had asked, Sam would have said that she fell in love first. Even on the day they met, when Jack been a condescending ass and acted like she wasn’t worth his time, he’d changed his attitude the second she stood up to him. And then he’d insulted Samuels just to get a reaction out of her and she’d smiled before she knew what she was doing. I shouldn’t encourage him, she’d thought to herself, and he must have read her mind and considered it a personal challenge, because he’d had her choking back laughter and smothering smiles ever since.

It was unprofessional, of course, these forbidden feelings for her commanding officer. But she couldn’t help it, any more than she could help laughing at his stupid jokes. She thought, sometimes, that maybe he felt it too—there was a certain tenderness in his eyes when he smiled at her, and he often sought her out in her lab when she was buried in experiments.

Watcha doing? he would ask. She would explain. He would pretend to be too dumb to understand, say something absurd, and she would laugh. Get some rest, Carter. That’s an order.

He said her name like an endearment, and she held on to those moments and savored them. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe he didn’t love her. But she loved him, and she would follow him to the ends of the universe and save his ass as many times as he needed her to.

It ended up being a lot of times.

She went through hell and back trying to keep him safe, and she couldn’t decide if the revelation that he loved her back made it better or worse. Some days it was definitely worse.

She held on to hope until she couldn’t anymore, and then proceeded to almost make the biggest mistake of her life--nearly marrying Pete Shanahan. But when her father was dying, it was not Pete who stayed with her, who wrapped his arm around her and promised to be there for her, always. Sam looked into Jack’s steadfast brown eyes and saw the rest of her life.

By the time Jack was promoted to the Pentagon, she’d made up her mind. If he didn’t bring it up, then she was going to. She was damned if she would wait another single second when they both knew.

In the end, he brought it up. He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth before she found herself kissing him, and the amazing thing was how familiar it felt, as if her lips had belonged on his since the beginning. His arms were home and his lips were both lazy Saturdays and off-world adventure, and every bit of pain and struggle and longing had been worth this perfect moment.

Stay with me, Carter?

Always, Sir. Always.

If anyone had asked, Teal’c and Daniel would have said that they knew Jack and Sam were in love long before those two idiots were aware of it, and that they had an ongoing debate on how long Jack and Sam could hold out before the unresolved sexual tension became too much to bear. Teal’c, for his part, maintained that both of them were far too professional to ever let their feelings get in the way of missions. Daniel wished they’d just get a room already and to hell with the consequences.

But it went on. And on. And on. For eight years. Eight years Daniel and Teal’c had to witness the yearning and the pining and the noble self-sacrifice; had to watch them fall apart with fear whenever one of them went missing; had to watch them try not to fall apart with relief when the other one finally turned up again.

Oh, you have returned! I worried about you a completely normal amount. I definitely did not push my health to the very brink of functioning in an attempt to rescue you. I missed you so much I couldn’t breathe, but, like, platonically. Of course.

It was exhausting.

No one was more relieved than Daniel when, on the same day that Jack accepted his position in DC, he came to Daniel’s house with the news that he and Carter were officially A Thing, but they did not want a big deal made out of it; and furthermore—

Fucking finally, said Daniel.

Jack grinned wickedly. Couldn’t have said it better myself.

If anyone had asked, General Hammond would have categorically denied knowing anything about it. Not that he didn’t see things. He saw pretty much everything that happened at his facility. He saw, for instance, the way Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter sat just slightly too close together at the briefing table; her knee brushing up against O’Neill’s arm as it rested on the armrest. He saw the looks they exchanged with each other; the way they could communicate paragraphs with a single glance, with a subtle lift of the eyebrows. He saw how O’Neill’s eyes softened when Carter entered the room; how Carter’s whole body lit up with suppressed mirth when O’Neill uttered whatever absurdity had made it past the brain-to-mouth filter.

He saw Carter’s desperation when O’Neill was stranded on Edora, and O’Neill’s despair when Carter’s brain was taken over by an alien entity.

I know Major Carter means a great deal to you.

She’s a very valuable member of my team, Sir.

Even with Carter’s likely and imminent death staring him in the face, O’Neill would not accept comfort from his trusted commanding officer if there was even the slightest risk it might damage her reputation. But he sat at her bedside and refused to leave it until she came back to herself.

Hammond often questioned whether their obvious attachment made them an asset or a liability. But time and again, SG-1 came through and saved the world, and he knew the effectiveness of that team came down, in large part, to the deep bond between O’Neill and Carter. Splitting them up could put the whole planet in jeopardy.

So, officially speaking, he saw nothing. And privately, unofficially, he was rooting for them. Because, damn it, the both of them had been through their own kinds of hell and they deserved to be happy.

He retired and left the facility to O’Neill. He was taking a final farewell look around his office when O’Neill swaggered in.

Hammond smiled. Are you ready for this?

Oh, absolutely, Sir. Not the slightest bit of…trepidation. O’Neill’s face belied his words, and Hammond reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

There is no one better for this job than you.

I will do my best to fill your shoes, Sir.

Hammond turned to go, hesitated, and faced O’Neill one last time. Jack, may I give you a piece of advice? As a friend.

O’Neill’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he gave a quick nod. Sure.

I have been a military man for most of my life. But I am also a family man. And while I would never advise you to break regulations—

General—

No, hear me out. Hammond put both hands on O’Neill’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. If you love her, find a way to make it work. You won’t ever regret it.

O’Neill blinked, perhaps in shock, and then his eyes began to twinkle. I don’t know what you’re talking about, General.

Of course you don’t. Hammond gave him an understanding clap on the shoulder and walked out.

Eighteen months later, when the wedding invitation arrived in the mail, he knew he should have been surprised but he wasn’t. On the back of the invitation, in Jack O’Neill’s distinctive scrawl, were two words:

No regrets.

Hammond threw back his head and laughed.

It was about damn time.

#stargate sg1 #stargate sg1 fic #jack x sam #jack o'neill #samantha carter #daniel jackson #teal'c #richard dean anderson #amanda tapping #fanfic

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fantasyinvader · 3 years

Text

Beat Binding Blade tonight

So, right off the bat I'm going to admit. I abused the arena and save states. This is a really, really hard game. And while I enjoyed it, I'm going to give three things I didn't like about it.

1)Enemy reinforcements arrive at the end of the player phase, and can attack during the enemy phase. That is unfair, especially when I assume that parking a unit on the spawn point will prevent them (It doesn't) or my healer just happens to be in the area. I like difficult games, but when I fail at something in those I want to feel like it's my fault for doing so. When I die in Bloodborne or lose a unit in Fates Conquest, I'm willing to accept it because I felt it was fair (plus I'll just restart the chapter in Conquest anyway). I could have not died if I had played a little better. This game was not fair when it did that.

2)The supports. A lot of the stuff about the characters is locked away in their supports, since this is one of the old Fire Emblems where it throws units your way because it's assuming you didn't reset the game when one died. They don't get cutscenes to be important, and with only five supports per character (barring if one dies, then any unit that had supports with gets those supports back). And even then, getting an A rank doesn't pair up any units except for Roy. So you don't get to play love doctor here, it's only really there for the stat boosts. But in the case of my boy, he needs those supports in order for his character to fully come through.

3)I can take 8 units into the final battle, and they're the only ones who get full ending cards. Everyone else just gets a single line. Kinda weak if I use someone like Fir for most of the game, but bench her at the end to give Rutget Durandal.

Even with my cheating, I still enjoyed this game. Mostly for the story. When Fire Emblem first appeared in Smash Brothers Melee, as a kid it instantly caught my attention. Roy and Marth just looked so cool with their swords and armor (true fact: My favorite design for Link is the Skyward Sword design, simply because it has chainmail under the tunic. I get it, the tunic is iconic but SS's Link just looks practical), and I preferred Roy because I though his fully-charged shield breaker hurting him was cool. I even keep a Cipher card of his in my wallet for good luck. I wanted to know what Fire Emblem was, what kind of game it was. My friend showed me a screenshot of the upcoming GBA game in Nintendo power, which I got for the following Christmas (sadly, I didn't get Sacred Stones as I got a PS2 the following year). I loved that game, but the idea that I was playing as Roy's father always was a bit of a sour point for me. It's because of that game when I got a 2DS a decade later, because I wanted to game but kept getting pulled away from my console, I eventually went back to Fire Emblem.

And, I'm going to admit, Binding Blade hurt me because I played Blazing Blade first. It really did. I mean, Hector dies early on, Lyn is presumably dead hell a lot of my old comrades probably died in this war, Eliwood's wife dies shortly after they are married while Eliwood is more useless than ever, the kid I saved in Bern becomes a genocidal maniac, and the fact that the characters of Blazing Blade kinda caused this to happen by releasing the seals on the Legendary Weapons in their own quest... It kinda bugs me that the Legendary Weapons I used in Blazing Blade are in their trap filled storage places. Like, who returned them there? And if I have characters from that game returning in Binding, I find it strange they don't comment on needing them again. But this is a case of the game trying to be a prequel to a story that wasn't written with it in mind.

But at the end of the day, one thing just kept popping up in my mind. Binding Blade is the antithesis of the Crimson Flower route from Three Houses. I know they said Genealogy of the Holy War was an inspiration, but I can't help it. I've seen so many people try to praise that said route as some sort of denouncement of the rest of the franchise. That it's about putting power in the hands of the people (it's not) instead of having some Lord be the good king. Granted, the Mandate of Heaven seems like it's a running theme of the series, so without understanding what that is I can understand why people don't grasp what that part of the message. But Binding Blade, it just hit so many things on the nose that I needed to say something.

So without further adieu, I'm just going to bring up a few points.

With Regards to Humanity

It's interesting how both Zephiel and Edelgard come at this from different angles. Sure, they both lead wars of conquest across the entire continent, and I'm guessing Zeph didn't tell his troops what he was planning on doing once he won so there's likely a level of deception going on there as well. He really doesn't care for his fellow man, and the game goes out of it's way to show us why. Hatred, greed, or even selling out your people in the name of self-preservation. The game doesn't shy away from showing us any of this, saying that it's wrong and thus why Roy has to kick some guy's arse. Zephiel knows this, but in Edelgard's case? She's out there fighting for absolute power, destroying anyone who won't bend the knee to her while those who do out of self-preservation like House Gloucester are rewarded for it.

In essence, Edelgard is everything Zephiel saw wrong with the human race, she is why he felt we needed to go extinct. The very things he condemns humanity for are the things she reward. Zephiel would have actually handed over power to those he felt deserved it if he had won, whereas Edelgard is demonstrably shown to hold onto power until near the end of her life. One wants humanity dead, the other wants all the dragons. They even oppose each other in their classes. Edelgard is based on the red emperor archetype, she wears red, her class is the heavily-armored Emperor and her weapon of choice is an axe. Zephiel is a king, armoed but wearing purple and he uses a sword in battle.

Even if they both have screwed up history with their family's due to their father's inability to keep it in his pants, they're both presented as villains despite being ideologically opposed which goes to show with Fire Emblem the method IS the message.

Ancient Wars, Super Powered Weapons and Lies.

War of Heroes vs. The Scouring. The former is an event where the full details are shrouded in mystery, up to the player to piece together the clues and figure out the truth for themselves...or in Crimson Flower's case, ignore the truth and act out in your ignorance.With Binding Blade though, when the truth starts coming out, it hits hard. I mean, right from the beginning of the game we're told man was the one who broke the peace by attacking the dragons, but then we learn that those legendary weapons messed up the environment, resulting in dragons needing to use human forms only to be slaughtered by man. Dragons were blamed for the environment, the people who used those weapons were revered as heroes. We don't know why mankind launched their attack, but we do know that they weren't able to slay the Demon Dragon, one who had her soul destroyed in order to control her, because the Heroes felt sorry for her. It's making dragons out to be the victims here, much like the dragons in Three Houses. But Crimson Flower only serves to demonize them, acting like they can't understand humanity when the dragons in that game are a lot closer to humans emotionally than the ancient dragons in Elibe.

The Elites in comparison weren't heroes, and that lie has been confirmed as Rhea trying to make peace.

The good ending for Binding Blade is being able to save the dragon whose soul was destroyed, whereas Crimson Flower ends with slaying a dragon after you've spent the entire game triggering her (and is the ending that leads to oppressive rule under Edelgard, in addition to the only ending without sunlight. What? You thought you'd get the good ending when her final boss theme was playing on the last stage?). Also, you need all the Legendary weapons in order to unlock the final stages, which all play into the big mystery. Crimson Flower requires the player to not understand that the world-building was done to support fighting against Edelgard instead.

Merits of a leader

Let's not beat around the bush here, Roy will not carry you through Binding Blade. His bases are low, and while he has good growths he is unable to promote until the very end of the game. Even then, you need to save the Binding Blade's usage to ensure you get the good ending. Roy is also very unsure of himself, thrust into a position of leadership despite his young age. But look at what happens when he succeeds, he manages to overcome the odds and take down the mightiest army on the continent. At the end of the game, he's shown himself as more than capable of leading. Not to mention, he also believes that humans and dragons can live together, even seeing this in Acadia (and if Ninian was his mother, he's unknowingly proof of this as he is 1/4 dragon himself. May explain his poor bases). If he marries Liliana, he even becomes a King for likely much of the same reason Byleth does in SS/VW (most leaders are dead following the war, plus combining his territory with Ostia which had already taken over Lyn's land after she abdicated/married Hector). Roy learns the truth as already established.

Compare this to Crimson Flower Byleth. Byleth leads the Black Eagle Strike Force, but credit for it goes to Edelgard. Byleth never gets any recognition for this, no position of authority despite proving themselves, instead that goes to Caspar Jenkins of all people, and ends the war continuing to fight TWSITD from the shadows to support Edelgard's regime. And if you read between the lines, Edelgard is NOT a good leader, resorting to bribes, threats, cronyism, secret police, propaganda, and even TWSITD's support and later stolen tech in order to maintain her rule. Byleth lost whatever emotional development they got from White Clouds during this route, once again becoming the Ashen Demon, and is even willing to let themselves die if they can't keep their “humanity” in check showing a distaste for their own draconic heritage (showing humans and dragons can't live together in this timeline). They didn't grow into being a leader, they devolved into being Edelgard's unthinking muscle. Byleth never learns the truth in this route, falling for Edelgard's manipulations resulting in them losing Enlightened One/Nirvana status.

Not to mention, Heroes Relics have really low weapon levels. In theory, they can be used by anyone but only safely by those with Crests and most fully with a matching Crest. Legendary Weapons, on the other hand, can be used by anyone with an S rank in their type. Your characters have to EARN the right to use those things and you'll need them to deal with all the Manaketes during the final level, whereas Relics aren't exactly that level of broken.

Honestly, seeing the ending of Binding Blade and Idunn recovering put at least one tear in my eye. Crimson Flower's just made me feel like the game was calling me an idiot (which considering the Nirvana/Enlightenment thing, it kinda was). I would love if Binding Blade got the Echoes treatment, or even if they just did a GBA collection for the Switch. But after all these years, one thing is as certain now as it was when I was a kid.

In this house, ROY'S OUR BOY!

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sanjuno · 3 years

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Meta Fic rides again

I'm a little stuck on how to word something in my Nano 2020 project so I decided to take a break by trying to read “Scum Villain’s Self Saving System” again and failed horribly because I got to the part when Binghe comes back and my interest died a quick and messy death for yet a third time. Someone write me a giant pile of gen-fic and LiuShen AUs to heal my heart.

Here, I’ll start us off:

Spite and Fury (or; PEDW is a hive of Scum and Villainy)

So bitter-old-man!Madara dies of old age after he passes his Epic Revenge Plot over into Obito’s keeping, and the Sage’s knockoff-brand cycle-of-transmigration peels Indra’s chakra out of Madara’s soul - which results in dying!Madara having a screaming ragefit that sends his spirit-and-chakra careening through the void between worlds

At which point shattered-and-fragmenting-more!Madara gets into an altercation with the System and since the System is a little bitch it tosses Madara into the worst possible Fate it can think of (see: PEDW)

Transmigration bullshit and Sharingan fuckery smash into each other in a gigantic clusterfuck of asspulls

Madara is missing bits because Indra’s imprint got ripped out

The Shen Jiu base soul is missing bits because torture and previous abuse of his character by the System

The resulting villain amalgamation is Not Pleased

Instead of landing in the divergence point chosen by the System - aka the Qi deviation fever shortly after Binghe arrives at Cang Qiong Sect – we instead have the jigsaw puzzle mashup of Mads-and-Jiu land in baby-slave Jiu’s body

The good news is Madara and Jiu stop fragmenting because they end up woven together - they’re stuck together as an almost-single person only with two different sets of memories

Character exploration is going to be an EVENT

Also the Madara part of them is really happy with the silky smooth hair

Also Yue “lets-Binghe-kill-him-because-he-thinks-Shen-Jiu-is-dead” Qi is cast is a much better light when compared to Senju “stabs-his-sworn-brother-in-the-back” Hashirama

So Mads-Jiu plays it close to canon for the first few years - the only real difference is that he tags his Jiejie with a tracking seal for after he escapes from slavery - he’s not leaving his ability to find her again up to chance or developing a reputation as a whoremonger if he can help it

When he gets bought by the Qiu is when Mads-Jiu starts being a manipulative little shit like we all know he is

Xanatos-pileup-or-bust!Mads-Jiu basically lets Yue Qi escape alone because he NEEDS Yue Qi to become Cang Qiong Sect Leader for his long-term plans to work properly

So Mads-Jiu warns Yue Qi that if he has to be CAREFUL because cultivating is dangerous and if Yue Qi comes back missing any pieces then Jiu will cut the EXACT SAME BITS OFF HIMSELF

And so Yue Qi is EXTREMELY safety conscious and the life eating sword drama is avoided entirely

Of course he’s also taking longer to reach his initial strength levels than in canon because he isn’t rushing

So there’s nothing like Yue Qi showing up early to trigger a plot divergence alert in the System

</mwahahaha>

Mads-Jiu is more pragmatic regarding Qiu Haitang’s so-called innocence this time around - and so he arranges for her to catch the Creeper Qiu bro abusing and assaulting Shen Jiu

Haitang is HORRIFIED AND DISGUSTED to see what her brother is doing to her fiancé and also TERRIFIED by the fact that he talks the entire time about how sweet it’s going to be when it’s HAITANG under him

The Qiu burn on schedule but Haitang kills her fair share - double Qi deviations FTW!

The system does not notice such a minor change in the background events - Jiu kills the Qiu, burns down their house, and Haitang survives the fire with vengeance raging in her heart

Mads-Jiu kills the demonic creeper that was hanging around because ew no and also keep your hands of Haitang

Again, it’s too close to canon for the System to notice - Jiu killed him in defense of a “childhood friend” so hahaha again

Instead of being used as a stalking horse by an evil master Mads-Jiu runs off with Haitang to track down and rescue his Jiejie

Shenanigans ensue

Afterwards Mads-Jiu “has an idea to help find Qi-ge” by asking around for him at the Immortal Alliance Conference

Of course there are more shenanigans and Yue Qi saves all three by claiming that they’re Cang Qiong disciples - so of course he drags all 3 of them back with him and wibbles at the current Sect Leader until he lets them all join

Still (mostly) following canon! Ha! So no “punishment” events get triggered in the System (which is mostly dormant because the Protagonist isn’t born yet XP)

Qiu Haitang was supposed to join a Sect! Jiejie got sold on schedule! Shen Jiu killed the Qiu and his “first master”! Yue pesters his Shizun into letting his sibling(s) join the Sect in an unorthodox fashion!

But the devil is in the details

And the devil’s name is Uchiha Madara

Jiejie ends up as Peak Lord for Talisman Peak because magic and seals saved her before

Haitang ends up Peak Lord for Hidden Peak because she refuses to be caught unawares by a dangerous secret ever again... also because she’s a mean sneaky bitch and owns it

Having more than one sibling for the Sect Leader to blatantly favour means less wholesale resentment directed at Mads-Jiu as well

However the Jiu part of them has memories from PIDW and also SVSSS - so he knows that shit is going to get horrible once Su Xiyan gets knocked up

Obviously the answer is to seduce all of his fellow peak lords into a glorious polyamorous clusterfuck so as to promote skinship and pack bonding and harmony among the sect leadership

(It worked for PIDW Binghe with his wives and SVSSS Shen Yuan with getting Bing-mei to chill his tits after all and nobody can trip you into bed quite like a shinobi)

And so Cang Qiong’s family aesthetics get rocked so hard that instead of panting after his Shizun baby disciple Binghe decides to seduce his peers...

... and his rivals

... and other sect’s disciples

... and the occasional demon

Mads-Jiu is really proud of his baby demon lord but makes sure not to single Binghe out - instead every Qing Jing disciple gets rewarded and punished at the same time

It promotes bonding! And teamwork!

And prevents the utter destruction of Mads-Jiu’s chrysanthemum via oversized demonic pillar!

There is totally going to be an extra where Mads-Jiu realizes that the average size of a male cultivators pillar is DANGEROUSLY EXCESSIVE

NOBODY NEEDS THAT MUCH PILLAR

Even HIS pillar hasn’t escaped the curse

BIGGER IS NOT BETTER!

How the fuck is he supposed to fight if he can’t even wear pants comfortably!?!?

(No wait come back Mu-shidi this shixiong is sorry it wasn’t mockery it was a perfectly reasonable tantrum that was a long time coming now stop sulking your dick is very pretty let shixiong make it up to you~)

And at some point there will be a wild Bing-ge who appears to cause trouble with a mirror that’s intended to temporarily transform people into the form of their last life - he aims it at the native Bingbing to get him out of the way so he can steal the “nice” Shizun

It would have been Pom time for Bingbing but Mads-Jiu pushes him out of the way

And cue giant explosion of dark Qi as a bonus expansion pack of Madara’s 10-tail Jinchuriki time with powers-and-memories gets downloaded into Mads-Jiu

Mads-Jiu the “Heavenly Demon Demi God” drops several mountains worth of flaming meteor rock on the invaders and then goes on a giant flaming skeleton rampage against Bing-ge

... Bing-ge has changed his mind he doesn’t want this Shizun take him back and oh gods the shrieking

How does he shriek so loud? Doesn’t he need to breathe?

... ok so Shizun breathes fire that’s good to know

Whelps time to bravely run away

And then the amassed sects need to figure out how to calm down the rampaging hell beast

The youngest Qing Jing disciple is brought out and told to cry for Shizun

Actually-a-broody-hen!Mads-Jiu whips around and starts fussing over his baby student

Because baby why are you crying stop it tell Shizun who hurt you and he will BURN THEM TO ASH

The last bit I have an idea for involves Mads-Jiu getting yanked though dimensions because Edo Tensei where he instantly twigs to what is going on and pushes the “righteous cultivator” skin to maximum strength

He shoves all the baby ninja behind him and keeps barrier spamming the zombie army - because ew no stay away from the children resentful corpses

Zetsu is included in the zombie army shall not pass smack down

Zombie!Tobirama is appalled because wut? Wasn’t this supposed to be Madara’s zombie? What is happening?

And I dunno something where he “notices” the resentful energy surrounding Danzo because stealing the eyes of the people you murdered is bad karma

So Mads-Jiu does a spirit thing and the ghosts of the Uchiha rips Danzo apart while screaming about his guilt in full view of the entire Village

And then Mads-Jiu goes home because filial little Bingbing came to get him and he’s not enjoying upending the shinobi social order nope not at all whom exactly do you take him for?

... Yes he’s done and ready to go back to his spouses now he’s sure the ninja have all learned better than to raise living corpses now anyway

The end

=/=

#Sanjuno's ficwork #fic I haven't written yet #Spite and Fury #PEDW is a hive of SCUM and VILLIANY #Madara and Jiu are sharing a body #System done fucked that revenge plot up #Villain Team Up cranked to 111 #sanjuno's metafic #NRT x SVSSS

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opuskeeper · 13 days

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RISE UP INTO MY WORLD

opuskeeper﹐highly selective. mutuals only. multimuse feat robin from honkai: star rail. adored by mephisto ( she/her ). please read googledoc before interacting!

NOT SPOILER FREE

googledoc (rules and bio) promo template credit

#{ go fight against your fate. } self promotion.#honkai star rail rp #hsr rp #honkai star rail roleplay #game rp #anime rp

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parasite-core · 3 years

Note

so! you wanted to talk about your ocs, yeah? hm, idk about them so can you give a little introduction about who they are and their likes or something like that? or at least about some of them? thanks! 🥰💞

Thank you! Sorry for the delay I wrote way too much then wrote less but still too much then I took medicine that knocked me out lol.

So I’m going to talk about Draven because he’s who I’m fixated on, but if you want me to jump to another OC just say the word and I’ll talk about someone else instead.

So my first attempt at answering got out of hand and was not a “little introduction” so I’ll tag you in a separate post with all that if you feel inclined to read it after seeing the ‘short’ answer lmao. Even this answer got long so you can imagine the other went very detailed.

Let’s start with the part that’s short, his likes and dislikes.

Likes: Cats, he grew up with a big blonde cat named Captain who only liked him and he’s loved cats ever since.

Leto, his surrogate brother.

His friends…begrudgingly sometimes.

Music, he’s a big music lover, especially violin music but really anything he can tell had real passion put behind it.

Makeup and generally making himself look beautiful: it offsets the scars a bit and people—including his enemies—already call him uncomfortably pretty so why not lean into it. Plus it makes him feel good when people call him pretty/beautiful. (He might be slowly having some gender self-revelations but Draven isn’t very insightful so it’s taking him a while)

Dislikes: Demons, demons, demons. Glabrezus (treachery demons), Succubi (you know), you get the point. He really hates demons. He doesn’t mind tieflings/ abyssal sorcerers/ other people who just happen to have demonic blood in them, so long as they don’t let it define them. Which is good for him since he recently discovered *he* has demonic blood in his bloodline so he’d have had a way worse breakdown if he’d been upset about the blood in general not just which specific demon it belonged it (Jerribeth, a Glabrezu, and likely the cause of his entire family’s deaths…so yeah, baggage)

Other things he hates…people telling him how he should feel about something. He’ll feel how he should feel in his own time and not a moment sooner.

Having people’s lives in his hands. He’s a commander of an army he has no choice in the matter but he hates it so much he wishes he could just be a front line grunt fighting demons and risking his own life not giving the order that might kill dozens or more of others if things go wrong or he miscalculated. He carries the weight of every person who has died under his command and take it very personally.

People insulting tieflings for their existence.

About: this still got long but less long than the first time.

Draven Imani is a warpriest of the goddess of righteous valor, justice, and honor, Iomedae. After his family was killed by demons when he was 8 and he was the sole survivor, he was saved by Iomedaen crusaders. After he was healed, except for a Mark of Deskari on his wrist that festers and remains open no matter what healing is applied, they had him bandage up and keep it secret, although vicious rumors already began spreading. He was taken in by an Iomedaen orphanage called the Light-Oath Orphanage. This is where he gained his faith, and his desire to follow in the footsteps of the crusaders who saved his life. This is also where he met his best friend and surrogate brother, the tiefling Leto, who he’s been inseparable from for 13 years.

The two of them made a group of 6 who all wanted to join the crusades for various reasons, and they set out for the Crusader hub city of Kenabres. Unfortunately when they were an hour out of the city, a demon slipped through the wardstone barrier. Draven sensed it first, the evil mark on his wrist burning and bleeding in response. It was too late to flee or warn the others, and one by one they fell. Draven lost his eye while trying to protect Leto, and doesn’t remember the rest of the fight from the shock and trauma. Next thing he remembers is waking up in a healer’s bed in a temple of Iomedae in Kenabres, Leto waiting for him, his other friends dead, and unable to see out of half his vision.

The for next year he retrained himself how to fight with his sword and shield with only one eye, relearning to judge distances and to mostly figure out his spacial awareness. However because everyone saw him as irreversibly damaged, he got relegated to the lowest, least prestigious, most mocked rank of the crusades: the Raven Corps. And there he rotted in guard duty and being degraded by both townsfolk and other crusaders, all of whom see the Raven Corps as the lowest of the low.

Then the Wardstone protecting the city was destroyed, the Stormking, one of Deskari’s generals, lead an attack on the city and began slaughtering everyone, and the party was swept underground by the silver dragon Paladin of Iomedae, Terendalev, who told them they had a destiny to fulfil.

And then Auriel Answerer, Draven’s friend and mentee from the Raven Corps died right next to him striking a fatal blow against a Baphomet cultist. And it turned out Auriel was supposed to be Iomedae’s Chosen One. So because Auriel vouched for Draven, now Draven is the one allowed to wield the Holy Sword Radiance—although Radiance themself seems begrudging of this.

Draven met his hero, Commander Irabeth Tirabade, a half-orc Paladin and former Raven Corps member who once saved the city and was promoted to commander of the prestigious Eagle Watch Legion in recognition. Irabeth immediately gave Draven a field promotion to acting captain of the Raven Corps for recent events. No pressure or anything.

We destroyed the final wardstone shard that Deskari cultists were trying to corrupt into a weapon, via our archer Hiskaria avoiding a boss battle while the party fought her and kept her distracted by being bigger threats until it was too late. Then Hisy jabbed the stone with the rod of cancellation and it broke and destroyed her and two of her minions. And a single shard hit each of us after we had a vision of what had meant to happen—of the doomed world we weren’t meant to save—and how our actions had literally broken fate. Afterwards in reality the Wardstone shards sank into us and bequeathed new powers to each of us.

The night after becoming Mythic Draven met Iomedae in our dreams and received a number of really helpful boons from her. So Draven was in awe there. And learned from meeting the warrior goddess that maybe he should be less self deprecating about his own facial scars.

Since then he met the Queen of Mendev, got promoted to Commander of his own legion (The Adamant Shield Legion) with Irabeth friggin Tirabade as his mentor and advisor, they liberated an impenetrable citadel in two days, found out Leto was now working with the cult of Baphomet for unknown reasons, but he promised Draven that he wouldn’t let them hurt him. It turned out he’d been acting strangely since meeting a Glabrezu on the battlefield, and when Draven tried to ask over sending Leto only told him that “wishes come true at the most unexpected times”.

Since then. Dray’s learned that the mark on his wrist means he also made a wish to a Glabrezu, that he doesn’t remember because he was a traumatized child who was just tortured and saw his family killed when he got his mark. And not just any Glabrezu—Lady Jerribeth, the original architect of Drezen’s fall, and very likely the cause of his family’s deaths. And not only that, but Jerribeth’s blood runs through his veins, from within the last few generations of his family. So the Crusader, the demon slayer, who fights demons but embraces tieflings, is struggling to put his money where his mouth is when it’s his own blood touched by a demon’s influence. Also killing another mark bearer places a new mark of Deskari onto him, so he has a new one on his neck now from killing a raider half-fiend berserker who also shared Jerribeth’s blood and mark. He’s scared of the implications.

And that’s Draven so far.

#faunscoxyspace #Draven Imani #Leto Jules #my ocs

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echo-hiraeth · 3 years

Text

Empty Promises - Maxwell Lord x GN!Reader

Summary: The reader is a forgotten past romance and works for Maxwell Lord. They’ve secretly been taking care of Alistair when Maxwell failed to do so. When he starts to take notice and offers them a promotion, they speak their mind.

Warnings: Angst

Masterlist

“Alistair!”, Maxwell beamed, spinning his son around while locking eyes with one of his many assistants. “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon!”

“It’s your week with him Mister Lord, you ex-wife just had him dropped off”, a lady in a pencil skirt informed him.

You rolled your eyes at the both of them. Maxwell did this every time, too caught up in his bank statements and bleached hair to pay attention to his own bloody flesh and blood. It wasn’t long before the young boy was kicked out of the office once again. You’d watched this scene every other week, your heart aching for the poor kid, this had to stop.

“Hey there little man, how’s it hanging”, you started, kneeling beside the chair he was sat in.

“I’m bored”, he sighed, eyes glued to his tan hands.

“I see.. wanna come check out my office? I have my own fridge filled with snacks”, you spoke, whispering the last part of the phrase.

Alistair looking up at that, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Really?”

You nodded, smiling at him as he took your hand. “C’mon I’ll show you around, let’s have some fun.”

The two of you had become inseparable over the weeks, spending every otherwise so dull moment together in your office, which you’d given a little revamp. Your mother had given you some of your old and retired toys that you kept in the bottom drawer of your desk. A small chair was also added, which your friend had graciously gifted to you.

Every day after Maxwell dropped his son off with someone else, you’d go and look for him. Once you found him you took him to your little, what he referred to as, clubhouse. Alistair would re-enact movie scenes with the dolls and toy cars you’d given him while you wrote away on your typewriter. Because despite the new self-acclaimed responsibility of taking care of your boss’ son, you also still had your actual job to do.

“Y/n, why can’t we play at home?”, the boy asked as the two of you ate your lunches together.

“Ah sweetheart, you know we can’t, we’re work friends”, you cooed, ruffling through his hair.

“Daddy said it’s fine, I can have friends over”, he continued, eyes filled with hope.

You went to stand, quickly stretching before grabbing two cans of soda out of your small fridge. “Well, I don’t think your daddy likes me that much, niño.”

“He said you went to adult school together.”

“Did he now? I thought he’d forgotten all about me”, you laughed, handing Alistair a can as well.

“He thinks you’re pretty and that you’re very smart too”, he said between gulps, a little bit of soda trickling down his chin in his enthusiasm.

“Your daddy said a lot of things to me back in the day Ali, but people don’t always mean what they say”, you sighed, a sense of nostalgia washing over you as you remembered your time with Maxwell back in college.

“Daddy never plays with me, he always promises me but he’s never home”, the child whispered, lip starting to quiver.

“Hey, your daddy loves you, okay. He loves you so so so much, he’s just… very busy.” You wrapped your arms around him, wiping some of the tears that had fallen from his eyes.

“I don’t think he means that”, the boy sobbed. That was the exact moment your heart shattered and you vowed yourself to fill the void Maxwell had left to the best of your abilities.

“How about I come over to play some more tonight? I’ll sneak in some ice cream too, your dad doesn’t have to know.”

That night you went home with Alistair after arranging with the nanny that you’d be taking over for the night. She was grateful to have you take over, eager to get home to her own family. So here you were, sitting in the colourful bedroom, laughing away with your tiny friend.

“No way, my Action Man is waaaaay cooler looking than yours”, you giggled.

“Yeah but mine will kick your butt”, Alistair retorted, throwing the dolls at one another, acting out an intense fighting scene.

“Hey! No fair, you snuck up on me, that’s against the Action Man code!”, you yelped, tackling the boy to the floor and tickling at his sides.

“Since when”, he spurted out between fits of laughter.

“Since I said so little Mister”, you ordered, grinning as you helped him to sit up straight again.

He wrapped his little arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “Thank you for playing with me.”

“Ah no you don’t, don’t get all sappy and gross now”, you jokingly warned. “C’mon, it’s bedtime.”

“Will you stay to read me a story?”, he asked, eyes pleading.

You couldn’t resist. After he’d changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth after you pushed him back into the bathroom four times, you finally tucked him in. He fell asleep after not even a page of his “Arthur” storybook.

With a sad smile plastered on your face you left his room, carefully shutting the door so as to not wake him. You grabbed your bag and headed downstairs, looking forward to ending to day yourself.

“Y/n?”, a familiar voice sounded.

“Mister Lord”, you greeted, reaching for the door handle.

“Actually, would you mind staying another ten minutes or so, I need to speak with you.”

You shrugged, crossing your arms in front of you as you turned around to face him. He beckoned you to follow him into his living room, urging you to sit down as he offered you a glass of Scotch. You politely declined and waited for him to start talking.

“My Alistair has told me you’ve been taking care of him during your shifts, is this true?” he questioned, playing around with the melting ice in his glass.

“The kid’s bored out of his mind every moment he’s stuck there. So yes, I look after him from time to time. Is there a problem?”

“No! No, not at all, in fact, I’d like to thank you. I looked into your files and noticed your pay is quite average. Besides it seems your potential is wasted in your current position, I’d like to offer you a position as my righthand, secretary-general if you will.” He looked at you with a smug smile, making big hand gestures as he spoke.

You shook your head slowly, scoffing: “No thanks, I like where I’m at.”

“Well if not a promotion then I think a raise would be in order, how much do you wish for?”, he questioned, extending his hands over to you.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His face contorts in confusion. “I don’t need your money, I’m not some babysitter.”

“Come on now y/n, it’s not that big of a deal, let me give you a token of my appreciation”, he purrs, pulling out a check book.

“Token of appreciation my fucking ass, if you cared about your son as much as you care about your money I wouldn’t even be here in the first place. Do you think I enjoy wiping the fucking tears off of his face when he’s once again crying because he thinks you don’t love him?”, you yelled, standing up and pointing a finger in his face.

“I-I didn’t know..”

“Of course you don’t! How can when you never spend more than five minutes with him! How can you know what your son needs when you’re never even around to hear him out!”, you screamed tears starting to well up in your eyes. “He doesn’t want a pony or a fucking pool, he wants a dad that will sit down and play with him. He- he wants someone to love him”, you spoke in a hushed voice, on the verge of breaking down into sobs yourself.

Maxwell had done the same exact thing to you all these years ago. It was such a cruel trick of fate to be hired by his company, which you didn’t found out until a couple weeks in he was the owner of. You’d been too stubborn to leave, vowing to yourself that you were an adult and totally over your past romances.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to disappoint you again”, he whispered, too ashamed with himself to even look you in the eyes.

The first sob left your throat, making him look up. “This isn’t about me Max… Your boy needs you.”

“I fucked up, I never stopped thinking about you, I couldn’t. If you could please just… help me. I-I’ll do anything, please, I just want Alistair to be proud.. and happy”, he pleaded, slowly stepping closer to you.

“I can only help you if you’ll let me”, you mutter against the skin of his neck as he embraces you.

“Can you even forgive me for what I did to you?”, he inquired, voice shaking with emotion.

“Yeah, if I couldn’t I wouldn’t have missed you so much”, you admitted, slowly letting go of him to look into his red eyes. “Take the week off to catch up with Alistair, the secretary-general will take over for now.”

#maxwell lord #max lord #imagine #ww84 #pedro pascal

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codename-adler · 3 years

Text

Kevin Day and his Oblivious Literature Lover, pt. VI

This bit explores Kevin’s sexual identity and his relationship to Jean, so, you know, not all funs and games... But very cathartic to write. I love them.

>> Table of Contents, TW and other parts are here!

after Juliet’s confession, their little talk does not flow any easier, but despite the rocky start and their dirty secrets, they push through the stuff that matters

it’s like a dam burst open

though, some subjects remain silenced

no parents, no exy, no relationships, no entourage, no names…

it’s just them

Kevin stays well into the afternoon

he has no class on Tuesdays, except in the mornings and, well, for once, he chose to rearrange his priorities

it wasn’t even a difficult choice, it wasn’t even a question: he had to stay, simple as that

he even missed morning practice

morning practice

it scares him, he feels the restlessness running through his veins, he feels guilty, guilty, guilty… and so, so weak…

but that was easier than leaving Juliet in the state she was

that had never happened before

not even with Jean

he’s used to flight, not fight

as for Juliet, either she didn’t have class or she chose the same as Kevin

either way, both were unspokenly grateful

sometimes, Juliet would fall asleep

sometimes she’d go non verbal and simply watch Kevin do his homework

one time he fell asleep

he woke up extremely tense, his jaw hurting from the clenching and his back protesting against his curled up position on the floor (really, an elite athlete should know better)

Juliet was looking at him strangely

“Can I ask for another truth?” she said quietly

he nodded calmly while his heart went racing

“Who’s Jean?”

“You said his name in your sleep. A lot. Are you usually a sleeptalker? I know I sleepwalk sometimes, but I don’t think I’ve ever talked,” she added

Kevin took an awful long time to think

he was looking at Juliet without really seeing her

instead he was imagining Jean’s bruised and battered face

he started speaking without refocusing his gaze, staring in the distance behind Juliet

“Jean is… He’s the one who taught me French. He’s the one who made me discover philosophy, Sartre and Hell is other people and all. He’s the one who listened first. He is the man that knows my shames, my failures, my mistakes, my ugly side, the man who knew and still looked at me as a human being with worth. He’s the one who showed me how to reset a dislocated shoulder. He’s the one I used to talk to in the middle of the night, about future plans or crazy ideas or incredible historical discoveries. He was my crutch when I couldn’t stand on my own anymore. He’s the one who kept my spirits up when times were tough. He is the man who kept me alive without either of us realizing it until it was too late. He is the man that I took for granted, the man I left behind without a second thought when things got too bad. I could beg for forgiveness my whole life and it still wouldn’t be enough to do right by him. He is the only person that has ever left me speechless. He can make my mind go blank, he can make me lose my words, he can shut me up with just a word. He’s the only one I let, at least. Jean is… So much. Too much, sometimes.”

Kevin’s throat tightened as he spoke, fists clenching and unclenching, his stomach twisting into knots of guilt and shame

if he’d been able to cry, Kevin would have shed burning tears

but he couldn’t

it’s as if everything in his system had been ready to cry, only for his body to realize that his water tank was completely empty of tears

and if Juliet hadn’t been looking at him with such intensity and such intent, Kevin would’ve ran away to Jean’s bedside right this second

three entire languages couldn’t even begin to express everything that Jean was to Kevin

Jean was every single emotion Kevin had ever felt in his short yet brutal existence, wrapped in one person as complex as the mechanics of the world

Kevin thought back on that first night when he allowed himself to be close to Jean since his escape from Edgar Allen

he thought back on how, with a single touch, all their entangled feelings came rushing back to the surface

how Kevin had never wanted to let go ever again, but the dark and violent waves of emotions had made his instincts scream with the urge to run away

Kevin had forgotten Juliet was still a witness to his battle

“Jean was… is… you ex?” she asked, something like wariness in her eyes

and what

“What?” he even says aloud

“Jean was your partner? Before… whatever it is you overcame?” Juliet repeats

“No!?”

“Okay… I’m sorry, Kevin… I didn’t mean…” she apologizes

“Why would you say that?” Kevin harshly asks

“Why wouldn’t I? It seems you two shared a very special bond, that’s all I’m saying,” she replies

she couldn’t possibly know

she couldn’t know

how would she know?

only two people in this godforsaken existence knew about these secrets in the dark, one of them being barely conscious in a bed a few minutes away, and the other one being himself

it was impossible that Juliet knew about what had transpired between him and Jean

“Kevin?” Juliet’s voice finally reaching him

“I said ‘Sorry for assuming’, I shouldn’t have done that. We don’t have to talk about it anymore, I’m sorry.”

Kevin considered their exchange

“I think I want to talk about it. To you,” Kevin finally spoke

Juliet nodded slowly, ever so careful, a silent yet binding promise passing between them

and so Kevin told her everything

absolutely everything

everything that didn’t touch exy, Riko, the Ravens, but that still left plenty, enough to cover many pages of poetry

he told her about how it had started between them, how Jean’s resilience had intrigued Kevin and how it had made him discover that there was more to life than his adoptive-brother

how Kevin had wanted a part of that rebellion Jean carried in his heart, how he tutored Kevin in French to share that slow-burning flame

he told her how for the first time in his life, Kevin’s entire focus wasn’t on one thing, but on a person too

he told her how their midnight talks became as important to him as his duty was

he told her how he began fighting for something else without knowing what it was, or why

he told her how on these nights, as Jean was teaching him verb tenses in French, their heads had, inch by inch, made their way closer to the other’s, until their foreheads were touching and their whispers barely made a sound on their lips

he told her how one fateful night, as Jean was teaching him the future tenses, their faces hadn’t stopped moving once their foreheads touched

how that simple touch hadn’t been enough anymore

how Jean had been his first kiss, his every kisses for the longest time

how he had been Jean’s first kiss, too

he told her how they had been each other’s first for everything

how they had been each other’s everything for a long time

he also told her how his fear and his shame, and his ambition, had ruined what they had

how his and Jean’s “situation” made it so, so hard

how once he was 17 and was “promoted”, Kevin didn’t choose Jean back

how it was on-and-off between them even when he showed interest towards Thea, also his now ex

how he had “moved” when shit hit the fan, and how he didn’t bring Jean with him because he was too scared, too self-centered, too weak

he told her how nobody knew back then, how nobody knows even now, because he had denied everything to everyone, including himself

and he told her how Jean was back, now, and how the memories came flooding back in with that same sour, yet familiar taste of shame, guilt, and fear

Kevin talked and talked and talked…

and Juliet listened

and Kevin cried, or rather, tears escaped his saddened eyes without even realizing it

and Juliet cried, too

they both wiped away the mess with the sleeves of their sweaters

“I have nothing to say about guilt and shame, but… If you liked Jean, if you loved him… if you still do… that is so okay, Kevin. It’s just love. You find it where you can. There’s nothing wrong with that, or with you. That’s how I see it… how I- I see you. You’re still you, Kevin.”

“You don’t know me,” Kevin replied fast, without thinking

Juliet just raised her eyebrow in a really, Kevin? way

“Look at where we are… Look at me… This isn’t even my worst. And I don’t believe it’s yours either. But it’s not pretty. Give us a little credit here, Kev; we’re not strangers anymore. Please don’t be a stranger… “

“Okay, Jules”

---

Kevin left Jackie Hall after sundown, with his heart heavy and his mind racing, but his shoulders a little lighter than yesterday

nothing in his life had magically changed into a goddamn fairytale, yet it felt different

Jules had told him nobody could decide who he was, that was his decision and his alone

he held that power, and only he chose who could wield some of it

he could choose what to do with it, and that thing could be outside of exy

at least, it could be for someone, instead of something

someone like Jean

on his way back to the familiarity Abby’s, back to Jean, he began plotting

by the time he was back by the bedside of the person he’d held so close to his heart and his lips, once upon a time, Kevin had formed a plan to give Jean the happy ending he so deserved

he’d have to make a few calls to USC, to the Trojans, to Jeremy Knox, he’d have to be careful of what he revealed, he’d have to convince Jean to leave, he’d have to convince himself to let Jean go, too, but he believed it was worth it

and if once in a while, in his cautious planning of Jean’s second chance at life, Kevin absentmindedly thought of a certain face framed with frizzy hair when the words “happy ending” kept nagging him, well no one could take that away from him either

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nebula-starlight · 3 years

Text

Sepsis (Pt. 15: Their Weapon)

He was weary and seeing the stormy gray clouds overhead as he flew only confirmed the melancholy nestled in him. How long had he been out on his mission now? It had been months since he last saw Versila, always kept busy with being the Shield he was desired of by Magnus. To be without an active task made him feel sluggish and worn down but while on the hunt his mind and senses were razor sharp. They had to be in his line of work now. Hunting down those Corrupt that plagued their beautiful lands and ending them before they could spread their vile disease to innocent others.

But even now, with only the cool damp breeze and the sounds of his own wingbeats to keep him company, he had little else to do other than reflect. Reflect on how his life had spiraled into the position he now was in. Far more than ever before he wished to have Igna in his life again. He had tried to find the tunnels he had fled from that fateful night, tried to find her broken body so he could at least give her a proper burial, but it had all been for naught. Searching the thickly overgrown woods had only left him with disappointment and a seething inner loathing that he couldn’t give the only friendly spirit he’d known for moons one simple act of kindness in return. She was like a mother to him deep in his soul. A comfort to him in the darkest nights when the dreams and past terrors threatened to consume him with their long claws of fear.

There was no doubt he was happier now than he had been in his youth. He had Versila, had a job, and even held some measure of respect amongst the citizens of the Capital to his utter surprise. The repeated meetings with Magnus in private only served to further the feeling that he was on the right path for his life. Sure he seldom saw his beloved mate much between the lengthy searching for those Corrupt but she seemed to support his decision. After all, she had cried on the night he first told her of the position Magnus had offered to him. He’d thought at the time it was tears of happiness and delight but now… He scowled, gliding to another wind current that would hopefully lift him higher.

Versila… Had he caught her sneaking medication when he wasn’t looking? It had just been a brief glimpse when he saw the bottle she hastily shoved deep into a drawer before kissing him as she left to go to her job. Why would she not bring up that she was ill to him? Did she not trust him? Surely whatever it was they could face it together as they always had since becoming joined in union. Perhaps if time allowed he would ask her about such things when he arrived home. He doubted Magnus would send him out again without a day or two of rest.

Overall it was the end of a long task he was looking forward to as he finally caught sight over the vast rolling plains of their gleaming, towering Capital. He was so close to being back home he could almost taste it and the sight seemed to breathe fresh strength into his weary wings. Soon he would see her again and put to ease the doubts that had begin to nag at the back of his mind.

Glancing at the few brave soldiers under his command who had survived and were accompanying him back, he gave his instructions with a silent nod. They had their lives to return to and, if needed, he would call for them each separately to provide details for the statement that was to be delivered to The Council. They flew in close formation, each a varying shade of gray or black depending on their level of exposure to Corruption save for him who had been made to be a weapon against the dark. Taking the lead, Nethreis guided them over the Capital, calling out with a bellow to those who guarded the outer walls of the high city.

“The Shadowcrest return! No shoot!”

Once he was assured they would not be attacked by those who did not recognize the armor or what it stood for, he circled around the grand city with his following troops before taking to the well cared grounds in front of The Council’s observatory skyrise. Nethreis landed first, wincing as he folded his weary wings against his side and turned to thank each member who had returned with him. There would be time to mourn those lost once the fight was well and truly won and he knew those under his command knew it likewise.

“Each go and rest. I see to statement personally.”

The older of his soldiers nodded in relief and took flight with warm wishes that it would be quick and uneventful while some of the newer, younger troops seemed unsure. His eyes scanned over theirs, seeing a mix of eager anticipation of rest and apprehension that he would still be in need of their services.

“Be with yours. This is mine task.” He kept his voice gentle, trying to persuade them to trust his words and see to their own restful recovery following the long journey that had taken them months to complete.

Even after the last of those under his command left he still stayed, watching long into the distance at the dim auburn hue of the sun’s fading light upon the thick clouds along the horizon. Perhaps his report could wait until morning to deliver? They had made excellent time in returning and his last correspondence with Magnus had ensured the Councilmember that they would be “arriving within a fortnight should Soleil bless them with strong winds.” That deadline was in fact in the morning and he was, quite frankly, exhausted from the return flight. Besides, Versila had to be missing him terribly and he longed for her so much…

Making up his mind, he turned and started down the worn cobblestone towards the housing district of the city. A goodnight’s rest was very much owed him and he would gladly take it before relaying the news of their vast quest over the wild lands beyond the Capital. With any luck he’d surprise Versila as well and she would be overjoyed to welcome him safely home.

—————

He looked around the messy interior of the house he had bought for them with the money he received from his promotion to being the leader of the Shadowcrest at Magnus’s proposal. She had never been one to let things go into such disarray before and it frightened him deep inside to think for just a moment that perhaps the home had been ransacked by street scum looking to make easy money. Growling, he shook his head, reminding himself that at one point his Versila was among those who roamed the Capital streets begging for food or shelter from the cold.

Glancing again at the broken mirror overhead of the empty, burnt out fireplace, he twitched at the creak of wood from behind him. Turning, his eyes glowed as fire rose in his throat and the instinct of being ambushed by those tainted nearly overtook him before the source of the noise spoke up softly.

“Oh, you came home. She’s not here. Hasn’t been for days now. But- But nothing is stolen or missing, Monsieur Shield.” Their neighbor, an elderly air spirit, stuttered from the open doorway into the house.

Nethreis forced himself to relax, fire cooling even as his shoulders stiffened in alarm. Where was his beloved? Why would she just up and leave without telling anyone? Had she even told anyone? His crimson eyes blinked as he tried to reign his swirling thoughts in so he could hear if the old spirit chose to say more. When several minutes passed in awkward silence he realized that he was the one who needed to respond.

“Thank… Does anyone know where went?”

“No sir. Charlia even went to check with the Healers but she never reported to work either. I’m just lucky my wife happened to see you walking home.”

So Versila hadn’t gone to work then… Work was her source of peace, he supposed. She’d said once that her working there was a way for her to atone for her sins but at the time he hadn’t understood what she meant. Even now he was uncertain but he quickly decided it might be wise if he went to the Healers personally to inquire. As much as he trusted Charlia and Atros, they were still common members of spirit society.

“Appreciate tell.” He nodded, shifting uneasily as a plan started to form in his head of how best to go about getting information. Rest would have to wait for now until he knew more.

“Don’t stress over it. If you want you can sleep at our place for the night. No offense but you look about ready to drop where you stand.”

Nethreis ignored the remark, eyes flickering back to the shattered mirror again. Why break a mirror? Was there something in her reflection that Versila didn’t wish to see? She had never expressed a reservation about the mirror before that he could recall. Yet for some reason he kept glancing at the broken shards as though they held an important piece of the puzzle.

“Monsieur Shield…?”

Cold crimson eyes darted back to the old spirit with bitter disdain as for but a second the illusions faltered to show the orange scars along Nethreis’s dark scales. “Leave.”

He didn’t bother to see if Atros obeyed the request or not, putting a forepaw to his chest in a moment of silent self reflection. If he could just find her or find where she might have gone… Maybe his distance had left her feeling hurt or abandoned? Naturally he never wanted her to feel that way but he had to follow the orders of The Council and Magnus. It was just like when he was out hunting down the Corrupt. He just had to find a strand to be able to track them down. Now he had to use that same technique to find his beloved and get answers.

Sleep was no longer an option to him for the foreseeable future it seemed. He had far more pressing matters than allowing himself to relax now. And he wouldn’t stop until he knew the truth.

—————

Going to see the Healers had not given him what he had expected to find. While it was true Versila had not checked in to work in several days, one younger member of the group had seen her the day before she stopped coming in and she had “seemed off.” He tried to ask for more clarification but was shooed away and told trying to question her would only complicate the current murder investigation underway. That was troubling news as killings simply were never openly talked about within cities. They still happened of course but almost immediately got swept under the rug by whoever the spirit ruling over that particular area was.

But Nethreis was determined to know and so he decided to find out by questionable means. By which he took a seat outside and seemed to sink into the evening shadows, becoming as invisible as the approaching night so he could listen in without being in danger of being discovered. Truthfully it was a power he seldom used because extended, prolonged duration tired him out but with how dire things were he figured the risk of pushing himself further into exhaustion was well worth it.

Luckily it didn’t take long for him to discover why it was so secretive. It wasn’t every day one of the Lead Healers went ballistic and murdered another in the same practice. He knew the levels of panic that would instill in the common citizens and quickly retreated from his shadowy hole that he’d been listening in. When he resurfaced it took him a moment to steady his breathing, the last bit of news he’d heard as he left hitting him in the chest just as sharp as a whip. His beloved was last seen fleeing in the night out of the city and out towards the mountains that rose to the north.

He blinked, feeling hot, inky tears roll down his cheeks. It… It had to be wrong. Versila wasn’t like that. Surely something had to have happened for it to be… for her to… to… She wasn’t a killer! But what if it wasn’t her anymore? What if somehow she’d become infected? They’d said her color was starting to gray in spots and ke knew that as a sign of one exposed to Corruption. Finding her, even in the dead of night, had to be his single focus now. No matter how much his wings ached as he flared them and rose to his feet. She was a part of him and there was no mistaking the hollowness that felt like a weight tugging at his soul. Wherever she was, she needed him.

Glowing irises surveyed the skies for a moment before he threw himself upwards into the air and immediately all thoughts ceased in his head. All except the realization it was a hunt and he very much enjoyed indulging in those with anewed sharpened senses. Magnus would be pleased if he got rid of another poisoned by the vile darkness. Relation didn’t matter in a hunt. It just got in the way of enjoying the satisfaction of killing. At least maybe this time he could bring back a trophy to remember later.

As far as Nethreis Ignis comprehended things, he had his next task all without even having to be issued one by those greater in position than he. Surely Magnus would be delighted that he went to confront and subdue another potentially Corrupt entirely on his own. He had the Councilmember’s favor after all and that was vital to his reputation within the Capital. For now his flight would take him to the Northern Mountains no doubt where snow fell year round upon the lofty jagged peaks. Should her coloration still be mostly pristine ivory, tracking her would be somewhat challenging in the arctic terrain. A hunter never turned away from a hunt they believed themselves capable of winning.

He forced his wings down, catching an uprising draft and began to ascend, screeching a challenge as far as his voice would carry. Their home would be free from the vileness of Corruption and he would make it so as his most sacred vow. None tainted should have a home within the gilded gates and now, with his hunt newly begun, he bellowed again a warning into the biting winds. If by chance she sought to return, whether innocent or not, she would need to pass by him first. The Capital’s Shield was his title and he wore it with the utmost pride a spirit of his caliber could. Relaxing his still weary muscles, he set his crimson sights on the white blanketed cliffs towering in the distance and flew onward in complete silence.

#sepsis #part 1 of the finale #nether #versi

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kaitoukye · 3 years

Text

My DCMK Stories/Series

(Those that aren’t outright abandoned/or not something I like promoting that is)

Chicken Time

Stuck inside due to social distancing rules, at least Kaito and Saguru can message each other. The SaguKai pandemic texting fic.

Type: “Story”

Status: Complete at 32 mini chapters, 8444 words.

Rating(s): T, mostly for swearing and a bit of suggestive content but that is mostly kept to a minimum

Pairings: Heavily SaguKai, with minor hints of ShinRan and HeiShin.

Notes: A decent into madness as the pandemic starts picking at their braincells. Both share a single braincell by the end. Bonus story: Social Distancing Is No Joke

King Of Bones AU

Back in the late nineties, a boy and his parents went missing without a trace and nobody had seen them in the decades since. Saguru grew up hearing only brief mentions of his missing cousin, but it wasn't until after finishing high school and with a promising career ahead of him that his brother begged him to find the family.

Saguru brought along his four friends to their last known location in an attempt to find a lead to their disappearance. Only Keiko left the house alive.

After the takedown of the organization, Shinichi and Heiji founded their own detective agency. When they are approached by a distraught Keiko as a last resort two years after her friends' deaths, their skills as detectives are put to the test. Her case leads them to a house full of the illogical and unreasonable. Of magic and curses.In searching for the true fates of Saguru, Kaito, Aoko, and Akako, they find no monster is more terrifying than a monster that was once a human, yet is now only a snarling beast out for blood.

Type: Series

Status: In progress. First story complete at 10 chapters, 15,569 words but pending a rewrite.

Rating(s): G, T, and M, with a heavy leaning towards M for the story as a whole

Pairings: SaguKai, Heiji/Shinichi/Keiko, Snake/Falcon(OC)

Notes: Earns its M rating, contains many uncomfortable scenes and all tags should be read before reading.

Naming Games

With his former classmate now secretly living with him after a heist gone wrong and a new decrease in age, a new name was needed for him. But Kaito is getting really tired of being the only one making an effort to choose it.

Type: One-shot.

Status: Complete.

Rating(s): G

Pairings: None, but some decent Saguru and Kaito friendship.

Notes: A repost and light edit of a fic from 2016.

Stockholmes AU

Kaito’s life takes a turn for the worse years after taking down two criminal organizations. Taken hostage by a killer who seems to be far too familiar with him, he finds himself caught up in a conspiracy that spans decades. One that leads to him becoming Kaitou KID once again, only this time fighting with the power of Pandora instead of against it. Saguru meanwhile has been fighting off his morals and his very perception of the world as a killer for hire. Even becoming what he once hunted for pure curiosity's sake, he'll still fight against those worse than him without a second doubt.

But with a crisis of feelings and the animosity of the past causing them to lash out at each other in cruel and unusual ways, it's a long road before either is able to work with the other without strife.

Type: Series

Status: ????

Rating(s): M.

Pairings: SaguKai, but in a bitter exes way, and Heiji/Aoko.

Notes: This is a complicated fic. One moment they’ll be down to fuck, another moment they’ll be going through intense trauma. This is a very dirty fic without ever crossing the line into E. Tags should also be read as there is some triggering content mixed in among the completely bizarre humor of the series.

Family Or Faith

If Aoko hadn’t commented on his eyes, Saguru would have never gotten the DNA test. Now knowing he’s not actually a Hakuba, confronting his possible biological father is not a task he looks forward to, but he knows it has to be done.

Type: Series

Status: Just one story so far.

Rating(s): T for implied sexual content.

Pairings: Pre-SaguKai

Notes: The fic that started as a joke on how Saguru looked nothing like his alleged father and Nakamori could be his dad for all we knew, and now its a personal headcanon.

Worst In Me and Play With Fire

Two people were holding onto the Pandora gem when the comet passed and with immortality comes consequences and changes to the very soul.

Type: Two one-shots.

Status: Unknown

Rating(s): T for implied murder and violence.

Pairings: SaguKai

Notes: ‘Be Gay Do Crimes’ SaguKai edition.

Just Like Batman

Kaito accidentally becomes a Batman-like hero, complete with his own mismatched found family and a tragic rival in someone who could have been a friend.

Type: Series

Status: In Progress.

Rating(s): T for some violence.

Pairings: None at the moment.

Notes: Exactly what it says on the tin.

A Game Of Cat And Thief

Nakamori is tired of the freelance detectives at heists. Tom just saw the high paycheck and a paid vacation, and had no idea what he was walking into. Jerry meanwhile intends only to bring chaos and violate his house arrest.

Type: Story

Status: In progress

Rating(s): T for some violence.

Pairings: None aside from minor Tom/Jerry.

Notes: The Human Tom and Jerry and DCMK crossover nobody asked for.

History Repeats and If Today Was Your Last Day

The classic story of a teenager finding out their late father was an international thief and taking on the identity of Kaitou KID to find their father’s killers.

This wasn’t supposed to happen twice.

Now a father himself, Saguru knows that there is no reason for people to fight their parents' wars, and wishes not to arrest the new KID, but show how to properly solve Kaito's death instead.

Type: Muti-chapter story with bonus one-shot.

Status: In progress

Rating(s): T

Pairings: Saguru/Allie(OC), Heiji/Aoko

Flora

A collection of fics centered around Snake and other members of the organization looking for Pandora, portrayed separate to the Black Organization.

Type: Series

Status: In-progress

Rating(s): T to E

Pairings: Snake/Falcon

Notes: A more self-indulgent, adult series.

Heartless

Eight years after Kaito's unsolved murder, the world of phantom theives is in a much different state.

It's a now twenty-six year old Saguru behind the mask of Kaitou KID, using crime to track down clues to the death.

Meanwhile, the newest thief on the street, a second Nightmare, is Kenta Connery, sixteen year old orphan with a grudge against KID. They have a more in common goal than they realize at first. Instead pitted against each other, it's a battle of the century between thieves.

As usual when it comes to the current state of his life, Saguru is keen to blame Toichi for this.

Type: Story

Status: In-progress

Rating(s): T

Pairings: Saguru/Allie.

Notes: Unrelated to History Repeats despite also killing Kaito.

#detective conan #magic kaito #dcmk #dead dove do not eat #tw rape #swearing #all sorts of genres #character death #murder tw #pandemic mention #hakukai #sagukai

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