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hitoshisbabygirl · 3 years

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Author's Notes ♡:Sooooo I wrote this once with no mythological background and it was so blank because one I half read and two it had no pizzazz. So here I am...enjoying this collab wholeheartedly. For some context the readers dad is Dionysus, yknow the festive, wine maker? So I tried to incorporate that with being a potions maker! Rappa is based on a mix between Behemoths and the Kusarikku, so i wanted him just a big and a bull man hybrid but not fully a Minotaur! I hope whoever reads this enjoy it as much as I did writing it! (Also I’m slowly realizing how much I hope this man)~ bunny ❥

Here’s the lovely masterlist of the others beautiful arts!

Warnings : NSFW again! (◎_◎;)

A use of pet names l, uh some heavy size kink (if you know who I based him on, also is one of my kinks showing yet) , Needy Rappa, breeding, Light cursing, a bit of a pussy job, female oral and a bit of overstimulation.

Word count : About 6.5k (ooof) !

Paring(s) : Bullman! Kendo Rappa x F!Reader

Summary : Being a demigod had perks, you could travel, you had god and goddesses as siblings and family members and of course the power! But what happens when you have to help a stubborn farm...pet?

Enjoy ♡

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Growing up as a demigods daughter who owned a garden on earth was one experience. All types of people, gods, goddesses and hybrids needed her experience with all sorts of plants and other things from nature ; rather it be for healing medicines , a bouquet for an upset lover or for help with livestock growth, [ ] and her parents helped with every little working class they could. As [ ] went from child to young adult she was used to her fair share of men from every place asking for her attention. A human asking for her hand and giving her the bare minimum, a god, wanting to make her a goddess, or just simply flirting to warrant her attention. But alas to them all she gave them no leadway, keeping her same polite smile and overall sweetness to each and every person she dealt with. On a warm day in the heavens as she walked the sky castles grounds she ran into a farmhand, one she remembered worked for Demeter approached her hesitantly, his eyes wandering to the young maidens “U-uh M-miss [ ] right?” The male asked her , her eyebrow raising as a silent answer “Lady Demeter would like to speak with you, she need some help but she did not tell me exactly what” he said with a bow and soon turned to leave. Wondering what the goddess could want she headed to her ranch, watching the cattle and other animals graze. Suddenly the door swung wide, revealing the deity to her “[ ] my favorite niece how are you love!” The tall woman sing songingly yelled, hugging the wide eyed girl “Hello Auntie Dem, im quite alright! Uhm, what seems to be the problem? One of your hands came to get me” [ ] said as she took in the ranch home her harvesting aunt had, all sorts of gains, wheats, fruits and more spewed about in her living room “Ah yes! Your father told me how great youve become with your potions and mixes of herbs, being the daughter of Dionysus im not surprised! I told him to let you grow and do more now look at you, serving us gods and mortals alike!” Demeter went on, handing her confused niece a large apple as she took one for herself. Becoming her to a table by the window they both sat, eating on their fruit as she explained her issue.

“You see, i have a lot of cattle, different kinds, different kins and legacies, but im a bit stuck. My favorite mare, had a child a little while ago and he seemed to just be your average bull at first….but..as time went on he out grew his father, my prized minotaur bull and even his normal cow and bull family.” Taking a glance to the field they watched as the minotaur children and some sheep danced and played, other average cow cults running to join. Sighing Demeter continued “Hes a hybrid, my prized minotaur as his father and well, my biggest and prized heifer as his mother. He wont come out of the shed, doesnt deal with his other kind, minotaur or not. Hes around your age now, getting to be his prime but..he wont converse in the fields. Both his father and mother voiced concerns to me about his health but when i checked on him, hes fine! Fields away under a sun and away from my younger and ready cows! I dont get it! Maybe because hes more human than he is bull, he does have a human face and even body, just taht everything below is...well bull. Tail, those wonderful breeding-” “Auntie!” Before she could finish [ ] was hushing the woman, waving her arms “I get it i get it Bull bottom human top i dont need to hear about his loins!” She pleaded.

Laughing, the goddess reached to a pile of hay, whistling to feed some of the nearby cows “Ah you silly girl, I was only gloating about my finest bull yet! I even tried bringing him mortals but...he crushed them, saying they were too small. Every single one! Younger older it didnt matter, he wanted nothing to do with them and just squashed them like a bug under his hoofs! I'm at my wits end, Im not sure what he needs, and hes so large i cant just let him walk around the palace place, he intimidates the clerks and huffs when talked to!” Dramatically laying against the table she looked to the thinking girl, her eyes shining with an idea “Hey auntie, how about you take me to him, i can see if hes loss any weight or seems sickly anywhere. Where do you think hed be at this time?” [ ] asked “Ah you brave girl, what time is it, almost high noon? He might be in the field but its the one with my giant tree that he likes” Demeter responded, pointing to a large tree up a few fields with nothing much around it but luhs grass. “Doesnt even matter if i put up a fence, he walks on two legs so he just hops over it” She sighed again as the duo headed outside.

Seeing a tall minotaur coming towards them [ ] stopped along Demeter, her goddess aunt speaking “Ah Milvor, how are you and Altine?” “Lady Demeter and I'm guessing this is [ ], we are fine. The misses is in the field now, seeing if she can see our boy” He said. Realizing that this was the after for her case [ ] spoke up “Uhm sir have you noticed anything amiss with er-” “Kendo, his name is Kendo” The Minatour said “Ah yes with Kendo, anything seem to be hurt or missing from his way of life” She asked. “Well..not particularly. Hes always fought some of the other males here so bruises and marks are a common thing we see from him. Besides a broken horn he doesn't have anything major going on. Just that he refuses to be around anyone here. Even us at times when were out with the others” He said solemnly , looking at the girl. Grabbing her hands he pleaded “Please, help our son? I know he can be rude and dismissive but down there our sweet boy is in there, were worried sick about him” Milvor said, a sad moo coming from his approaching wife “Miss i do appreciate you checking on him, I just hope he'd be home soon” A half cow women spoke , coming beside this Kendo’s father “Well i'll do my best, it doesnt sound like hes too hurt or anything serious so i'll make sure to try and get him to be with you both” Giving a reassuring smile [ ] started off, heading to the tree at the top of them hill. Just before she got far Demeter called to her, handing her sweet wheat “Heres some of his snack, he sometimes will come back if we offer him more” She said. Taking the wheat and putting it in the side of her flowing peplos. Soon with enough treading uphill , she got close to the tree , soon seeing a tail swish from in front of the tree. Hesitantly she walked forward before seeing hooved legs, also covered in black fur, pop out from the tree. Placing a hand at the side that had no person on it she peeked over to in fact , find a rather giant back in the sun, small flecks of freckles on the toned skin. Holding her gift closer she walked to the male before hearing a snort “ ‘M tellin’ ya Elinor I dont want nothin’ to do with ya, go on, go back to the heard” A rough and deep voice said, a larger hand coming up to wave off whoever was behind him. Feeling a bit bad for this mysterious Elinor and offended, she was brushed off [ ] walked closer , standing at the ends of his legs until the male growled. “I told ya to-'' Stopping himself from yelling once he turned around he was surprised to find not hybrid named Elinor but in fact the small [ ] her eyes widening as amber ones looked down “Yer not Elinor” He said as [ ] giggled “And im guessing youre Kendo” She said as the bull sat up, cruising his legs and the curious woman in front of her. “Whos askin?”

He huffed as [ ] looked at him as she did the same , sitting across from the hybrid “A…. doctor of sorts. Your parents, along with Goddess Demeter asked me to come check on you, see how youre doing” she said as he huffed again “ ‘M fine, now why did they send you” He said as he watched her pull things out, paper , a quill, ink and is that..? Pointing to the bustle of wheat he called out “Is that… for me?” Blinking [ ] looked at the almost childish Kendo, smiling as she untied the snack “It is for you, I heard you liked it. Brought it in the hopes youd talk to me?” She questioned, holding a piece out for him to take. Hesitantly he did, gnawing at it as he hummed in delight, his tail swishing. “ So uhm… Doc what do want to know” He asked, watching as the smaller girl touched his chest and arms, squeezing lightly as she wrote down different things “If ya wanted to touch me ya shouldve asked” He teased, taking his own hand to her face. Felling he face warm up she moved back, poking him with a finger “Now now be good im just seing if youre injured. Besides that horn, do you have anything broken or doenst feel well?” She asked as she waved a pisces of wheat, making him focus. “Nah, im as fit as a fiddle” Side eyeing his response she still gave him a piece , hearing him hum in delight as she wrote more notes.

“So no injuries, no pain , nothing?” shaking his head he continued to eat , taking some pieces from her bundle as she reached for the uneatten pieces “Hey! No you get these as a reward for answering me not to eat at your leisure!” She scolded. Reaching as far as she could she grabbed at his hand before he lifted them higher, smirking “Well miss doc i want what i want, and I want my snack” He said before she grabbed his arm, poking a manicured nail at it hand “Well Kendo ill let you have it if you tell me whats wrong, without covering it up deal?” Feeling him flinch at her poking she did it again until he moved away , glaring at her through his bangs that hung low “Fine! Stop poking me though, ya nails hurt! And theres nothing wrong, i just dont like ‘em cows! They stink!” He said as he knelt closer, moving her from his arm. “They stink? How old are you 5? Why do they stink!” [ ] huffed back as he chewed more of his treat, looking to the flustered girl “Im 22 in human years little girl , and like i said they stink! Reeks like open sores and meat” He said as he kept eating , laying in the sun. Thinking over his words it dawned in her what he could be talking about “And what do i smell like Kendo?” [ ] asked, catching the half bull off guard “I dunno, you dont stink, Neither does lady Dem” He said as he turned to her. Leaning over she gave him a piece of wheat again but this time, pushing herself a bit forward, watching as his body shook before he took the piece , eating it. “Well Kendo, my name is [ ] and ill be checking on you moreoften okay? I need to run down to the house but ill be back if that's okay with you?” Silently he shook his head, watching her run off as he opened his still crossed legs, feeling himself unsleeth as he groaned ‘Shit...now why am I gettin turned on’ he thought to himself, rubbing away what he could before the girl came back

As soon as she got to the farm she was met with the eyes of the worrying three, the first to speak being his mother Altine “Oh! [ ] youre back!” She said, the bell on her neck dangling as she ran to the fence “How is my boy? Kendo is he alright?” she asked as Demeter and Milvor came soon after for the report “Well maam i can confirm he is healthy, not is wrong with him the only thing is..” [ ] hesitated as she looked at them “He might have a heat approaching, is this his first one by any chance?” SHe asked as they all looked at eachother, Demeter speaking up “Well not exactly, this is why I kept bringing mortals up here, he wouldnt mate with the cows, and even other hybrids! Nothing! Hed turn his nose up at them all and go back to that field. He actually broke that horn of his fighting a bull from a neighboring farm who wanted to cow that was trying to get his attention” Demeter said, sigh as she saw her nieces blank face , afraid she overwhelmed her “Its alright if you dont think hes fixable [ ] i can-” “No hes fine. I can help him, and i think it wont be that hard either” [ ] said, giving the group a smile. “Watch him for a few days for me , im gonna go back up there with him, see how he is then come back in a few days with some of my things, ill stay here as long as need be to help your son” She said as she gave them all a smile, going inside to get her something to eat. Soon she hear her aunt appear, shuffling about to give her a basket to put her things in “Here, Im so gald helping him is a easy fix” She said sighing happily as she continued “I know he should mate on his own time, but im more concerned for his heath of it all, he doesnt even release into anyone or even by himself” Glancing towards her auntie she took in a breath before saying something “Well, i know it has to be bad now, he even said the er, cow women here stink, so their hormone have to be covered with other bulls or maybe he genuinely doesnt see appeal with them” [ ] said. Thinking it over Demeter gave her an almost alarming look “Well if thats the case just as you arrived he asked me what i was cooking, that something smelt good. I told him I didnt have anything and he just retreated back to his part of the barn before leaving for the field again.” Slowly [ ] realized she might be in for more than she imagines but brushed it off. “Interesting..” She said as she took her full basket “I have an idea, im gonna see if his heat hits its peaking times in a few days, I do plan on staying here if youd have me here?” She asked as a delighted look spread across Demeter’s face “Of course dear child! I missed having you around! Your Father was bad at bringing you over, him and his festivals” Demeter huffed before she poked her nieces cheek “Besides! We can have a girls night, or well er, weeks depending!” She said as the laughed together “Well it's a deal!”

Heading back up the hill she saw that Kendo had moved, facing a running river as he sast in the sun once more, looking content. [ ] smirked to herself before grabbing some of the things she had ; a brush, a lavish soap and a towel. Heading to where the behemoth of a hybrid laid she noticed his ear twitched, before he opened an eye to look back at her. “Hey Doc, ya back.” He said as she gave him a smile, sitting beside his head “Why yes I am. You seem to be enjoying yourself” She teased as he smirked, turning to face her. “Well i do enjoy the sun, keeps me warm nd my hair soft.” Looking him over again she noticed that his hair was always up in a bun but his bangs covering his eyes, a different hue of color, more of a rustic red than his black furred legs. “Well about that...Im gonna give you a bath!” the giant bull flinched at her words, seeing the happy look gracing her face “Oi now look, ‘m fine i dont need no bath” He argued as she pouted “Why sure you do! I know you dont go when the others get theirs, and if that bun of yours is any indication, you need to wash all of that dirt and grime off. Now let me help you” She barked back, pointing the soft looking brush towards his face. He stood up, now overthrowing the girls height as he pointed a finger at her “Now look, I like being this way, it keeps those girls offa me if you clean me now they wont leave me alone!” [ ] sighe before stepping closer, pointing her own small hand at his face, moving closer “Now you listen to me Kendo, I have things to help keep them off of you, this is for your own health! I can leave you here, dirty but your hair and fur is gonna get so matted theyll have to shave you!”

At hearing a potential that hed be shave Kendo flinched, moving his bangs so his soft eyes could meet her determined ones “Theyll shave me? Ion wanna be like the sheep” he said she she gave him a satisfied look. “Well go into the water then and ill make sure you wont!” Reluctantly he sighed, walking into the river as she followed behind, pinning her longer robe so it wouldnt get too wet as she sat at the side of the river. Holding a hand out she waved him closer, the male coming to her as she undid his hair. To her utter surprise it fell down his shoulders, stopping just short of his waist. Gently she pushed his bangs back to see his pretty amberish eyes looking up to her [ ]’ed ones. He had a typical Bull hook through his nose , the gold shining in the warm sun. He was quite handsome, sun kissed skin and a clear face, broad shoulders and a nice body. Even with his mostly human body his horns, tail and ears were bull, on top of his legs and...neithers , that were covered in fur. Softly she traced a scar under his eye, the wound slightly tender as he jumped from the touch. Going to her wrist she tied a string to hold his long bangs up, a giggle falling from her lips as he almost looked like a younger child getting a bath “What're you lookin at me like that for” He huffed as she laughed more, pushing his face together “You look like an upset child is all. Now go ahead and dip in the water for me , ill scrub you after.” Listening to her, Kendo dropped watching as some of the debris and dirt washed off around him as he stood up, shaking his hair “Good enough?” He asked as she shook her head, pouring some of the sopa on the brush as she started to was his chest,making sure to scrub him as clean as she could from land. Sensing her struggle he reached to her, lifting her over his body as she squealed “Sorry, you were just strugglin so i thought i'd help you” Kendo said as [ ] hesitantly started to wash as much as she could, tapping his arm anytime she needed to move. Being up there did help, she was able to was his horns and his hair, revealing the rust orange and copper hair underneath. Surprised she ran her finger though it, giving him a shy smile. “See dont you feel a bit better?” She asked as he shyly nodded, noticing how her clothes clinged to her chest. He reached to put her back on land, coming out of the water himself as he allowed her to scrb his legs and hoofs, the dull black fur coming to life as he watched in awe. She didnt mind helping him, still came to bother him when he said he didnt want help and now she was bathing him. Kendo mulled over how helpful she was, and realized she was more comforting than most. After scrubbing his hoofs shiny she tapped his legs, signaling she was done.

“All right! Now that youre all clean and such Ill make sure you stay this way okay Kendo?” [ ] said as she went back to the basket, pulling out two apples. The bull in question watched as she came back to him, handing him the other one “Here ya go! Thought you could use something sweet” kendo took the apple from the girl, before biting into it, thanking hier softly as they sat in silence. Soon [ ] spoke up, breaking their silet aurora “So...ill be around here the next few days or so, ill probably stay longer, giving how nice it is” She laughed, looking at the curious male beside her “Dont be afraid to ask me for anything okay? Im here to help you” With that Kendo nodded, going back to the apple. Quietly Kendo touched her arm, making [ ] look to him as an unfamiliar look went over his face. Gently herself, [ ] put her hand on his, shaking her head as a signal for him to talk. “Would you mind...pettin me?” he asked before [ ]’s eyes went wide. Now feeling a bit more embarrassed he spoke up again “I have problems going to sleep, ‘ts why i like it out here in the sun, its warm , nd comforting…” Pausing he continued after he got his words together. “You do the same thing like the sun. Youre warm...comforting.. And make me feel sleepy...so if you pet me...ill be comforted to sleep..its what my mama did, but im too big to be in her lap” With that kendo finished, glancing to the girl who gave him a soft look “Of course i can! I have to get pick some more clothes up but once i get back, I can stay with you out here.” Shaking his head Kendo looked back to the river “Ya dont have to sleep outside with me just...put me to sleep” Unable to stop herself [ ] hugged his arm, looking at him through her lashes “Oh cmon you big baby, I dont mind it! Havent slept under the stars since i was a kid!” Brushing off her dress she ran a hand though his thick locs of hair, giving him another warm hug “Ill be back before sundown, now you be good” And with that he watched as his new found friend walked down the hill.

As promised she brought a blanket and joined him, laying under the tree as the large male went to sleep on her lap, contently humming as [ ] ran her fingers through his hair, making Kendo groan as he fell asleep like mentioned, hugging her thighs as he slept the most comfortable he had in weeks. Watching the hybrid sleep she saw all types of scars, some down his back , others on his chest. A few on his arms and only one on his face, plus the broken horn. He obviously got himself into different groups of problems, but he was sweet, not as curt as he expected. Running her fingers down his back she watched him shiver, going to wrap his arms higher around her torso. Giggling as softly as she could [ ] started to braid his hair back in his sleep, the moving under her ceasing as he was well resting once more. Thinking to herself ‘ If he’ll be like this it should be a breeze to help him.’ Oh how wrong she was.

A few days passed with little to no incident , [ ] going around helping with the daily chore and hanging out with her deity auntie. As the two of them sat in the living quarters, drinking a mixed juice that her father set them they heard a bell appear towards the window, it being Kendo’s mother “I'm so sorry to bother you , but i think something is gravely wrong. Kendo is whining in the shed, earlier he even started to-” Before she could finish a thumb came from his shed, followed by a groan “and that, he's been head butting his room” sitting up [ ] looked to his shed, seeing the door shut but large banging still coming from inside “Hey Auntie, is it alright if we could move him to the other field? I dont want his lashing to accidentally hurt anyone here” Coming besides [ ] Demeter chewed at her lip, thinking “Well, if we can stop him then yes, I'd get the boys to move it quickly”. With that answer [ ] got up, heading to the rocking shed. Taking in a breath she knocked, hearing that the groans subsided. The door slowly creaked open, showing a heaving Kendo “[ ].....?” He whispered, looking over her body as she reached to his forehead, pressing her hand against it. Hot, way too hot. “Kendo, sweetie come with me okay? We’re gonna go to the fields and we're gonna move your shed there okay?” Silently he nodded, coming out of his place. He was gasping, chest heaving as his eyes swirled a darker color than normal. Taking the outstretched hand of [ ] his larger fingers curled against it, following the light pull of the girl. Softly, He nudged her back “ ‘M hot..” he said as she looked back at him, making sure the fever wasn't wearing him down. He gave her a weak smile, rubbing the back of her hand “ ‘M alright princess, just hot” Kendo said as she noted how his voice dropped octaves. “Well theyre gonna bring a bigger shed for you out here and ill check on you every hour. Does anything hurt?” [ ] asked as they walked up the hill “Nah, but my horns are ackey.” “Is that why you were bashing them on the shed?” “Yeah...its like trying to scratch an itch you can reach” Kendo sighed, seeing his usual tree coming into view. As the duo got there he dramatically fell under it, pulling [ ] with him. “K-kendo! Careful!” she fussed as he let go of her apologizing as he drifted to sleep. Soon some of the workers had started working on the new roomed shed for him , finishing just before sundown as they would inform Demeter of where she was.

Gently pushing the deep sleeping boy from her lap she went to his new place, checking everything out. It was more of a small home than a shed, filled with a huge bed and a nice aesthetic to them, the touch of the goddess laced through the look of the place. Going around to sort some of the things they brought for Kendo, [ ] felt a presence behind her “whats all this..” the groggy bull said, ducking down to walk into his lavish bedroom “Your new home! I had them build something spacious but also not overwhelming, and these white are just so lovely.” [ ] kept talking as she soon felt two large arms wrap around her torso “ Ya did this for little ol me..?” He whispered as she ran a hand over his forearm. “I did...you need somewhere to relax in this state” She responded, trying to get from his grasp as he tighten it “Uh uh dont leave...tell me whats wrong with me doc..why cant I stop feeling hot...and anytime you come around I...cant help myself” He ended with a groan , burying his face in the shorter girls neck “Well once im sure of you being in a state of need ill be back okay? Just...relax for me and i promise ill be back.” finally convincing him to let go of her waist, not without a pained groan as he went to the bed, hazy eyes glancing over the short dress wearing girl “Get some more rest okay? Im gonna get something to eat and ill be back in the morning. Call me if you need me okay?” [ ] said as he just groaned a meek response, turning to his side.

Earlier the next morning [ ] woke up to an empty house. Stretching she found a neatly written note with some food on the table

Dearest Niece, Im currently headed to your Uncle Poseidon's place, I should be back some time later ; an update on Kendo, hes been begging for you all day, wont let anyone touch him or check on him. He should be awake now but do be warned ; He’s a lot more scatterbrained than usual

Auntie Demeter

Reading over the note again [ ] sighed, putting on her more comfortable and workable dress as she headed up to his new little house on his hill, the sound of groaning and whines coming to her ears as she got to his door. Seeing it ajar she pushed it open slightly, the place dark except from a crack of light coming from the window. Going to the shades she opened them, hearing a hiss from the bed. “Kendo its me..[ ]?” She called out as the wild set of hair came into view. He was even more disheveled, eyes filled over as he looke to the girl before growling, crawling out of the bed to her. With a gasp she was in his arms, body shaking as she was met with unnaturally feral eyes from the boy. “You left me yesterday..” he rapeseed out, burying his face in her neck again as she grabbed at his thick neck “Kendo honey, i told you id be back this morning didnt i?” She calmly said as he held her tighter, pushing her chest to his “Dont care, ‘ts too long” Realizing why he was so needy [ ] tried to reason with him “Well im sorry love, here lets sit down on the bed” Trying to get him to move she walked forward only to feel something large and hot push into her bare thigh. Nervously she looked down only to be faced to what she feared it was ; His hanging member. A wicked laugh came from above her as she was met with his ever lust driven eyes, a hand of his going to cup her ass and pull her closer “See what you left me with? No matter how hard i fuck my fist i cant cum, it wont come out” He whined and burried his face again, rocking himself on her thigh “Please ill do anythin..youre the only one who sgotten me like this...the only one i want..[ ] please princess help me” Overwhelmed but the situation she tried to pull back, eyes searching his “K-kendo youre getting yourself worked up relax-” Without warning he picked her up, making her screech as he brought her crouch to his face, inhaling as he whimpered, reaching down to his growing dick “Fuck you smell good, like flowers...and sweets..” Letting his tongue roll out he sucked over her panties, making her squeal as she gripped his messy hair “N-no kendo put me down i need to help y-you!” She moaned as his tongue flicked over her clit, a mutual groan coming from both of them. Soon a hard tug to his hair resonated, cause him to put her down as she barely touched the floor, hand grabbing his biceps “Kendo please, please sit down youre overworking yourself.” Trying to calm her racing heart she saw how hazed he was, his hand coming to wrap around his visually throbbing head, stroking himself as tight and fast as he could, looking at the awe struck girl infront of him. His hips lifted up as he was chasing a high but he soon groaned, thrusting meekly in his fist “I-I cant, fuck I cant do it doll, ‘t hurts...p-please” Finally snapping from her haze she got closer to Kendo, hand still trying to milk himself as she put her hand over his, stoping the motion.

“K-ken..ill help you okay? Youre gonna rub yourself raw at this pace..” nervously [ ] pulled his hand away, precum coating it as she gulped. He was huge, red and swollen tip curved in the right places. Even with his bull heritage he was still humanly manageable, but with a lot of work to try and get it to fit. With her staring at the intimidating size it twitched , curving up to his belly button as he gave her a lop sided snarl “ Cmon darlin, he... er, we need you . ya keep staring make me feel a bit exposed” He laughed as [ ] gave her own light chuckle. Facing her fears she wrapped a hand around his tip, a hurting yelp falling from Kendo at the touch made her eyes flicker to him but what she saw was pure lust, eyes blown with his tongue licking over his lips “Y-yes finally...shit I-i can feel somethin” Kendo couldnt help himself. Reaching down he grabbed her other hand , wrapping them tightly around his tip as he thrusted between them. “Mhmm im cumin, im gonna cum o-oh shit” As soon as she twisted her wrist to help him he felt himself twitch , spurts of warm cum splattering on [ ]’s face and the floor a he gave her a nervous laugh “S-shit doll face yer good...im sorry i couldnt hold it in..” he said shyly as [ ] gave him a sympathetic look, stroking over his still throbbing head. “[ ] please...can I fuck you? I-I promise ill go slow its juts the smell of you is..mhmm intoxicating” Kendo pulled her up from her knees, pressing his mouth against her clinging panties ,pulling them with his teeth. [ ] squeaked, grabbing his hair as he pushed her hips closer, trying to lick her. “W-wait ill take em off” Pushing at his shoulders she pulled the piece he had in his mouth out, sliding the flimsy lace as she came a bit closer, a growl coming from his lips as he pushed her dress higher, finally able to taste her. Throwing one leg then the next on his shoulder kendo fell back, making her fall onto his lips.

[ ] let a pitched moan come out, startled by his rummaging in between her thighs , his diligent uskcing on her clit taking a toll as she came, bucking her hips onto his mouth. Swallowing her juices Kendo flipped her on her stomach, pushing the fabric of her dress up and over her shoulder to release her covered chest, now exposed “mhmm i want more of that sweet nectar baby why dont you give it to me?” whispering in her ear and now bucking his even harder dikc between her small lips [ ] started to panic “K-Ken wait I dont think youll fit!” ignoring her thrashing Kendo looked over her body, seeing how she shook at every stroke of his tip against her sopping core “I told ya ill be gentle, hold still [ ]...i wouldnt hurt my mate” The heaviness of those word took over [ ]’s body as she looked back to him, only to see the save behemoth size push against her ring of muscles. Agonizingly slow he pushed, letting his tip slide in as he pushed each small inch he could in, a whine falling from them both. Once he was halfway in he slowly thrust his hips, causing the girl to yelp “I-its alright i got ya okay? Youre fine...its okay im here” Constantly praising her , Kendo was able to slip more into her, each mini thrust pushing him a bit closer to her, the sounds of squishing and pleasure filled moans filling the room. Becoming overwhelmed at almost being full [ ] pushed her hips back to take the rest, making Kendo yelped and [ ] moaned, the sudden feeling of him bottoming out almost too much as he placed his hand on her stomach, feeling him brush her cervix. Swinging his hips more fluidly he started to pounder her even more, gripping her neck as he pushed her deeper in the bed “Fuck yeah i knew youd be my perfect little minx, taking me so well i cant wait to see you swollen with my babies” He huskily whispered , the stretched out girl too blissed at taking him whole to care about his words.

“I bet youd love being my mate, wouldnt have to lift a finger for anything , id take good care of ya..” Continuing his beating against her cervix he felt something strong hed never felt before, a blind need to cum hitting him like a train “mhm..please let me breed you, this pussys’ mine, all i ever wanted...ill make you a cute little house wife hm? Make you swell with cute little us running about.” Feeling her weakening clench over him he reached for that bundle of nerves, switching his hips to hit even deeper, his throbbing dick pushing against that sponge in her walls. Crying out [ ] fell lower, feeling him slip impossibly deeper as he sped up.” Cmon [ ] , babygirl cum for me..give me it..t-then i can give you what you want yeah? Fill ya to the brim so you can bear me a strong child….”Finally at that the little sense of control snapped coming from a particularly hard push and roll of her clit she was whining , grabbing the arm beside her head as angry red lines welted up. Feeling her hit her peak Kendo got to his knees , nursing her bud as she tried to tug him away, thighs shaking as teary eyes looked down to his fierce lust filled one. As soon as she started whimpering and pulling her hips away he stopped, scrubbing his tip along her folds as he entered without too much pull, [ ]’s mouth falling open “Mh..i'm so close baby...just wanted to look at you when I fill you full..” Kendo felt his tip twitch, making his hips stutter as he picked his pace up again, watching as her arms went are far as they could to his back, stretching his shoulders as he came with a growl, and almost audible sound of him pumping in her heard as she weakly pulled him closer, their lips meeting in a intimate kiss.

With care he pulled from her lips, seeing her eyes fill up again as he kissed tears away “Its alright...its okay ‘m here princess...its alright..I didnt hurt you did I?” Kendo asked as he looke at her slightly bulged stomach, a satisfied smirk on his lips “ Hey [ ]...” He started as she gave a weak hum he continued “Be my mate..I know i didnt ask before filling you bu...id be honored to make such a caring woman my mate and wife...treat you just like my father does my mom..…” He said, nuzzling her cheek before [ ] pulled his face up, kissing him lightly as she gave him a tired smile, rubbing his cheeks “I-id be honored to be your mate..take good care of me okay? Or Auntie Demeter has your head..” Laughing he kissed her lips again, sealing their new deal

#my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #the circus dome collab #rappa x reader #kendo rappa #rappa smut #kendo rappa x reader

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s8ncake · 3 years

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Originally I wasn’t planning on posting this here, but a friend of mine convinced me. You can also check it out on ao3!

🔞The following fic is nsfw. Minors dni.🔞

Sacrilege

Summary: Simeon has fallen, but he doesn’t view himself as such. No, given the feelings he has towards you, this could only be an ascension; one beyond anything he had in the Celestial Realm, and anything the Devildom could offer. Now he serves no one, only you. His one and only god.

word count: ~5700

⚠️c/w: gore and blood (but Simeon and the reader are fine), yandere!Simeon, sacrilegious themes, blasphemy

Additional note: the reader is gender neutral, and the reader’s genitalia isn’t specified

In ao3, I tagged this with Dead Dove: Do not eat. That still applies here. Make sure you’ve read over the content warnings before proceeding / interacting.

🔞And once again, minors dni.🔞

Falling’s a strange thing, a concept that Simeon never quite understood. It happened to angels who were wicked, those who sought to undo his father’s plan. So they were cut off. From the heavenly host. From their powers. Their wings turned black, and their light faded. Until the only thing left was a darkness, one that sought to consume everything that they once were. They either died or transformed, becoming monsters. Beasts. Demons.

Simeon is none of those things. He didn’t fall to oppose his father, nor did he seek to undo any sort of plan. He’s an author after all, and authors create.

And what could his muse be, other than you?

Your soul is brilliant, a beacon of light amongst everything else in this miserable realm. It took him far too long to see that. But thankfully, his eyes have been opened. And never again shall they shut. In the long span of his existence, he’s seen everything that the universe could offer. Stars. Galaxies. The rise and fall of human civilization itself. Existence itself is always in a state of flux, constantly shifting and warping as things are created and then destroyed.

But you… You exist beyond that.

Your soul never tarnishes, nor does it fade when things get rough. Instead, it fights. Nails. Fists. Some would say that it’s barbaric, but Simeon had always found it to be beautiful. It’s a philosophy that he’s tried to emulate. Words are meaningless, unless they are used to praise you. So now he resorts to action. And well, the saying is true. So perhaps it’s only natural that he uses it to replace his books, that the tales he creates are no longer works of fiction. No, fantasy has lost all meaning now.

There’s only you.

You have always inspired him. Even now, Simeon can’t help but write poetry about you as he moves. The world that he’s in is dark. Depressing. Very little of it is worthy of being compared to someone as brilliant as you. But that doesn’t prevent him from trying.

Today, he starts with a crumbling city. It’s silence echoes throughout the land, and you are the slight breeze that rushes past his ear. The moon, although unlike its cratered surface, you have no imperfections. No, the dips and grooves along your skin are beautiful. Like the glinting of a knife, the way the metal slices through the air. You have pierced his heart just as easily. But that’s okay, it’s yours after all.

It’s a shame that he can’t carve out his own and give it to you. That despite everything, he is still limited by this corporeal form. But if he were to be anything else, then you wouldn’t be able to look at him. And that would get in the way of his worship. A god must be able to view their subjects after all.

Besides, this new form is perfect for him. It’s yet another form of his art, a piece that was made specifically for you. His horns. His tail. His cock… He considered it all. Like a good follower should.

No one else would be able to do that. They are limited by their pathetic mortal frame. Rats. Parasites. They’re unfit to even look upon you. But with another flicker of his knife, they are handled. And he will morph them until something better. Something more suited for you.

The process of creation is a never ending one, especially given the thousands of pieces that he’s working on. Some of them are grand, and others are small. But all of them are for you. How else would he pay tribute?

There’s a gust of wind. Your arrival is soon. He can sense it. It comes with everything that is right. The sun peaking over the clouds. Starlight reflecting off of a lake. The rippling of water as it reveals the creatures that lurk within its depths. The sound of laughter, followed by the blessed silence that he’s come to adore. That is who you are. An omen of things to come. The others say you are bad, but Simeon knows better. It is impossible for you to be anything other than good.

For you are greater than the heavens, and the earth itself. His father was nothing, but you—

There’s a scream as Simeon feels blunt nails dig into his arm. It’s followed by a shove, and footsteps frantically scrambling away from him. ...How annoying.

His latest sacrifice had just ruined his internal monologue. And it was going to be such a good one too. What a shame. If only he had a pen and paper nearby…

They don’t travel far. There’s another sound, although this one is a plea. Simeon silences it with a crunch, and tsks when he looks at his hands. That was messier than he had intended, but it looks like no longer needs any ink. An amused chuckle falls from his lips. Would you like that? Poetry written in the blood of your enemies, the very nonbelievers who seek to destroy the world that the two of you are trying to create?

...Perhaps that’s something to try next time. Right now, he has something more important to focus on. He’s still in the process of creation after all, and he’s not finished decorating. Thankfully this… creature (it can’t be a human, for nothing could compare to you) should provide him with the rest of the materials that he needs. So Simeon gets to work.

This too is a form of art, and one he would never have considered before. But he has expanded beyond quills and parchment. Now he builds sculptures out of the very people who would defy you. Those who are unworthy of being graced with your presence. They are broken down, and fashioned into a suitable idol.

Another splash of crimson. The breaking of bones. Wire. Nails. And then it’s done. Your new altar is complete. Simeon takes a step back, appraises his work, and grins. It’s perfect.

Fresh blood drips off of it, reminding him of rain, the way it softly drizzles and brings life to those around it. This is a form of life as well, one that does nothing but speak of your greatness. The various limbs that have been tacked and strung above it make a rainbow, an icon of the color you have given this dull and drab world. Maybe one day you’ll be able to color it all. But the best part about it is when you stand away, when you view his masterpiece from a distance. It takes the shape of a heart, one that resembles his own. And it exists entirely for you.

The wind picks up, howling in his ears, and he knows that you are here. Once you enter the room, Simeon falls to his knees. He doesn’t have to stay there for long; it’s simply a gesture of formality, one that reminds you of how important you truly are.

“You may rise.”

He follows the command without hesitation. Your voice is a melody. A soothing tone that seeps into his bones and leaves him feeling lighter. It truly is an act of kindness that you’ve allowed him to stand as your equal, if only for a brief moment. But he will be on his knees again soon enough.

He can’t wait.

A sigh falls from your lips once you notice the various remains that litter the floor. “Those were supposed to be the new recruits. I guess none of them were willing?”

Simeon nods. “They were all unworthy of you.”

“A shame.” Your eyes then roam over his altar. He awaits your response with trepidation. ...Do you like it?

But as always, there’s no need for him to voice his question. Like the god you are, you already answer it with a grin. Your power, your majesty, truly knows no bounds. “You’ve found a better use for them though. I’m pleased.”

A shiver runs down Simeon’s spine. Your approval means everything. It is the air that fills up his lungs and allows him to breath. He feels incredibly lucky, to be blessed with such a thing.

It only inspires him to work even harder for what comes next. There is no church here, nor is there a temple. But those measly little things are unneeded. Your body outshines it all. And that is what he shall worship.

A strike of a bell, and then Simeon kneels before you once as you sit upon your handmade throne. It begins now. Sacrament. He licks his lips in anticipation.

You are an image, perched atop yet another one of his creations. Although this one is his favorite. There’s no flesh or bone, only gold. Treasure that he had stolen from the Celestial Realm and the Devildom alike. Melting it was difficult, but the result was definitely worth it. For now you have a throne, one that suits your majesty.

It makes him feel small, as it should. Your presence is grand, a shining iridescent star amongst the blank canvas that he’s created. And it’s reflected in his eyes once you beckon him forward.

He delicately peels each and every garment off of you, savoring the sight of your body as it’s slowly revealed to him. He’s seen it before, yet you never fail to take his breath away. Every hair, every scar, all of the dips and grooves that make up who you are; Simeon loves it all. How could he not?

Beauty takes the form of your legs, the way they spread open before him. Magnificent is the sight that greets him, your most intimate parts bare now before his gaze. Adoration is what he feels when you whisper his name and guide his head forward. And divinity, well... that is what you taste like.

He dives in with enthusiasm. You immediately grab onto his horns, and pull him in closer. Simeon groans. They’re handles after all, ones that he made specifically for you. To tug. To control. He is but a follower, and you are a god. One that will never fail to help him find the right path.

And everything about this, the taste of your essence on his tongue, is right.

Every noise that you make spurs him on. This is what you deserve. The pleasure that courses through your veins. The moans that fall from your lips. It’s a shame that he can’t give you more, not yet at least. One day the world will be yours, but until then… an orgasm will have to do.

You cum with a cry, one that could shake the very heavens itself. A part of him hopes that they've heard you, but the other knows that they are unworthy of such a thing. He laps up each and every drop. It would be a sin to allow any of it to spill. Nothing you create should ever go to waste. Especially when it’s this good.

Once your orgasm ends, he pulls away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. It’s a shame that he cannot taste you forever; that like all good things, it must come to an end. But his worship of you is far from over. No, the two of you have only just begun.

Your eyes meet, and Simeon’s tongue lolls out, wiping away the spare traces of your cum. A chuckle, then you gently pat his head. “Such a good boy Simeon. You’ve improved.”

Pleasure shoots down his spine the moment you praise him. This is what he’s after. This is the reason he exists. To serve you. To please you. Your fingers begin to run through his hair, and a moan falls from his lips as he leans into your touch.

“You remember what comes next, don’t you?”

Of course. His worship of you is a form of art, one that he has practiced over and over again. Simeon nods, and then finally removes the last of his clothing.

His cock springs free. It’s hard. Leaking. He wants you, as always. But how could he not? Your visage is the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. Your voice rolls through his mind like honey. He loves you.

It’s normal of course, for a follower to love their god. Yet even the word itself feels unsatisfactory. One day he’ll have to create a new one. But until then, love will have to suffice. Besides, he has better ways to show his devotion. Actions speak louder than words after all. So despite the desire that courses through him, he doesn’t even make an attempt to touch himself. His own pleasure is unimportant. The only thing that matters is you.

So instead he stays on his knees. Where he belongs. He starts with your ankle, placing feather light kisses along each one as his mouth slowly works his way up to your calf. You gasp once he reaches your thighs, and then the next part of sacrament begins: creation.

In the past he created galaxies. Stars. Nebulas. Simeon had the luxury of forming several of them before that task was given to someone else. But thanks to you, he can perform it once more. Only this time the materials are different. Instead of creating constellations in the sky, he makes them on your body.

Today he starts with the Big Dipper. He lightly suckles on your thighs, mapping out each and every star, and once that constellation is done, he moves onto another. Caenis Major. Orion. Cygnus. Your body looks even more breathtaking like this, so he adds a few more. These ones are new, ones that he just made up. They have yet to have a name, but for now… Consecratio will have to do. Perhaps he’ll be able to come up with a more official title for them later.

Your name falls from his lips, along with a moan, and something inside of him slips. He falls even further into your depths. Beautiful. You’re so beautiful. His name never sounded so pretty; but everytime you say it, he can feel his cock begin to swell. He is the one you want. The only being that makes you feel like this, and the only one that ever will.

You are his god.

Blood rushes through him, staining his cheeks, hardening his cock even further. In the haze of his own mind, his mouth parts from your skin, and his fingers enter you instead.

You mewl at the intrusion. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. This step comes later on, yet Simeon can’t wait. He wants to see you cum once more. To hear your praise as he pleasures you beyond your own comprehension.

Perfect. Stunning. Simeon adds another finger, his gaze fixed on your expression and nothing else. Finding that spot within you is easy. He had memorized its location long ago as proof of his devotion. Each and every part of your body has been mapped out, a never ending piece of parchment that he keeps in his head. In truth, Simeon has never been much of a navigator. But your body is the only thing that he needs to know.

You moan once again. You’re close, Simeon can feel it. Although he’s neglected to take his own pleasure into account. He’s close as well.

Simeon hasn’t even laid a hand on himself, yet his own noises grow louder. Every gasp. Every groan. Knowing that he’s able to do this to you spurs him on, his cock aching from how much it desires you. Yet your image drowns all of that out.

His peak arrives, but he never gets to fully reach it. Instead, your hand clenches around the base of his cock, preventing him from cumming.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Recite your scripture as punishment.”

His labored breathing echoes across the room, and Simeon’s eyes widen once he realizes his mistake. He was being selfish, allowing his own pleasure to get in the way of yours. Lust is a vise that he should have had better control of. He was a fool to let it get in the way of his love, so he accepts your punishment with grace.

Magic soon replaces your hand, creating a cockring that now leaves your fingers free to move up and down along his shaft. His breathing stutters, but he’s thankful for the intervention. More of your magic curls around his body, brushing up against his skin. It’s a sign of what’s to come, yet he shoves that excitement aside, or tries to at least.

Simeon frowns. The cockring was sorely needed. It makes sure that he doesn’t forget about what’s truly important. No matter what, he isn’t allowed to cum before you. The only sin that exists is putting his pleasure before your own. Yes, he deserves to be punished for this. His devotion towards you never should have wavered.

So he opens his mouth, and speaks; his voice not faltering despite the way your hand moves across his shaft. “The steadfast love of you, my god, never ceases. Your mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning.”

You press one of your fingers against his slit, smearing some of his precum along the head of his cock. A shudder runs down Simeon’s spine. Your touch is a blessing, one that he can never get enough of. But he cannot focus on it. No. The pleasure is unimportant. You must be worshipped.

“There’s no greater love other than this: to lay down my life for you.”

He focuses on the words instead, and on everything that they entail. He would gladly die for you. In both this timeline, and any of the other ones that follow. The universe is full of constants: gravity, matter, humanity itself, and the devotion that he feels towards you. Those are all things that shall exist in every universe.

No matter what, Simeon loves you. And he will die and fall as many times as he needs in order to prove it. Although he’s never met any of his alternate selves, he already knows that it’s true. His love cannot be contained in any vessel. It flows throughout time and space, and every spec of it is dedicated towards you and you alone.

Your hand leaves his cock. Simeon feels it twitch under the absence of your touch. A part of him wants to whine, but he holds that in. He refuses to sin once more, to tarnish his reputation as your most devout follower. So he simply continues reciting the words that he’s come to know by heart.

Indeed, you’re no longer stroking him. But that’s only because your hands have wondered elsewhere. A finger traces the rim of his ass, and it doesn’t take Simeon long to put two and two together. Ah. He had never—

You enter him. Slowly but surely, although there’s no resistance. Another one quickly joins it. Your fingers are slick from his precum and some of your own spit, not to mention your magic… It widens him, making lube unnecessary. Not that he would ask for any. No, he’s being punished right now. This is simply another example of your benevolence.

The feeling is strange, but he continues. “I give thanks to you, for everything about you is good. Our love endures forever.”

Your fingers haven’t stopped moving. They’re searching around for something, although Simeon doesn’t know what you're looking for. There’s nothing left of him to find. You have seen it all.

“And I know that in all things, you do good for those who love you, who have been called according to your purpose.”

And then you brush up against a spot inside of him, one that has him seeing stars. He’s unable to stop the surprised “Oh!” that falls from his mouth, or the way he tries to fuck himself on your hand. Thankfully that was the last verse, so there’s no harm in letting another mewl spill from his throat.

You laugh. It’s a beautiful sound, one that Simeon is blessed to hear. “What a good little follower. If you beg for me, I’ll let you cum.”

He wants to. To immediately get on his knees and beg for you to fuck him, as you take away the last shred of innocence that he has. Ah, but take isn’t the right word. Give. He would give it all to you. That purity is nothing more than a cocoon, one he’s been working on shedding himself of. It only gets in the way of loving you. Besides, how could he perform his tasks if he was worried about heaven’s definition of sin? No, there’s too much work to be done. And what he’s doing is okay. You’ve told him so.

Submitting to the desire that's coursing through him would be easy, but this is a test. One that he refuses to fail. Worshiping you takes precedence. It always does. “No. I wish to pick up where we left off. My only desire is to pleasure you.”

You flash him a smile, one more brilliant than the sun. “Your devotion truly is admirable. We’ll begin our worship again shortly. But first, I’m going to fuck you like this, okay? Remember the feeling of my fingers Simeon. Because next time, you’re going to cum around them and nothing else. Do you understand?”

Next time. He’ll be ready then. And you will finally own all of him. He can’t wait. “Yes, my beloved. I’ll do as you ask.”

You hum in approval, and then your fingers start moving once more. Pleasure courses through him, and he bites his lip as he smothers his gasp. You are everything. This is everything.

“I don’t want you to hold back Simeon. Let me hear you.”

Of course. This is a form of devotion too. How could he have forgotten that? A high pitched moan immediately falls from his lips. Words are hard, but Simeon still manages to speak. You wanted to hear his voice after all.

“G—Good. So good.”

Another finger gets added. Somehow the pleasure increases. His cock aches. It’s hard and weeping, yet he doesn’t care. The pleasure that you have shown him outshines it all. And he never wants this moment to end.

His mind is slowly becoming blank, the fog of lust threatening to consume his every thought. But Simeon shoves it all aside. Vocal. He has to focus on being vocal.

You briefly pull out. A fourth finger teases at his entrance, and your voice coos into his ear, “Can you handle more?”

More. The possibility excites him. He had no idea that it was an option. But he will do it. Of course he will. As your follower, it’s his duty to handle every inch of you. That’s why he created this vessel in the first place. And Simeon leaps at each and every opportunity to put it to the test.

He has to think, to piece the fragile bits of his mind together in order to form a response. But as soon as he comes close to making one, the magical ring around his cock vibrates. It’s slow, a low thrum that’s incredibly unsatisfying, yet it leaves him shivering all the same.

It’s a warning. He still can’t cum after all, and unless he performs well… he may never be able to. A response. You need one now. “Fuck. Y-Yes I can handle more.”

And like the benevolent god you are, you give him exactly that. Yes, you’re so wide inside of him. He didn’t even know that it was possible to feel this full. That his body could accommodate this much. And the fact that one of your limbs is inside of him... Simeon keens.

Truly, he’s unworthy of such a thing. Your fingers, your hand, should be elsewhere. That you would even consider touching him there is already enough to make him cum. Thankfully the cockring is still in place, so the pleasure never has to end.

He focuses on the shape of your hand, the dip and groove of each finger; the way it scrapes against his walls as you slam into him. Your pace is rough. Brutal. Heavenly. His mind goes hazy underneath it all. No. He can’t let this consume him. This is only a preview of what’s to come, and you are gracious enough to give it to him.

It’s another test. But this one… Oh, this one is his favorite.

Another wave of pleasure. He’s a shivering mess, one that can do nothing more than scream for you. Time itself has no meaning. There’s only this; the fullness that you provide, and the love behind each and every gesture that you make. He mewls out your name once more, and then it’s over.

He’s repented for his mistakes.

Your fingers… no it was your fist, pulls out of him. Simeon briefly whines at the loss. He falls to the floor, and then you place that very same hand in front of his lips. He lavishes it with kisses, and groans. More. He needs more.

And he knows that there will be more to come. It’s all a part of his worship after all. The taste of your inevitable union will be even stronger, richer. This is but a treat, a kind dessert that you have gifted him. The real meal comes later on. But Simeon is willing to wait. Once he’s finished lapping at your hands, he moves to your altar and lays himself upon it.

This is his final offering. His body is yours to use as you see fit.

You get up. Although Simeon cannot see it, he hears your bare feet walking across the abandoned chapel’s floor. There is no choir, but the ex-angel wants to sing when you impale yourself upon him.

A purr leaves your throat. “You feel perfect.”

He’s glad. Like his horns, his cock is made for you. Every ridge, every bump, was created to maximize your pleasure. No toy will ever compare. Simeon made sure of that.

You begin to move. He allows you to set the pace as his nails dig into your thigh. Perfect. You fit perfectly around him. He feels an incredible amount of pride as you gasp and moan with the rise and fall of your hips. Out of all of the offerings that he’s made, his mortal form is definitely the best. The flush of your cheeks proves it.

The magic around his cock finally loosens, and you clench around him. Simeon’s climax quickly follows your own. The tangling of tongues. The squirting of cum. He finished inside of you, but you don’t remain on his softening cock for long. No, you pull yourself off of him, and Simeon watches as his cum flows out of you.

He licks his lips. This is it. The moment that he’s been waiting for. His favorite part of worship.

Your voice is a command, one that never fails to send a shiver down his spine. “Clean up.”

He immediately begins lapping at your dripping hole. The taste of your cum has melded into his own. Your union has created this, the most delicious thing that Simeon has ever consumed. The essence of a god flows into his mouth, along with the proof that he was the one who had pleasured you. And now it is inside of him. A bond that cannot be broken. He hungers for more.

Simeon lewdly moans as his tongue reaches deeper and deeper into you, searching for every bit of his cum that he can find. Noises fall from your mouth, but like always, he drowns them out with his own. This is a feast, one that the Celestial Realm could never recreate. Their food pales in comparison. Simeon doesn’t understand how he was able to stomach it before.

Another orgasm ripples through you, and he keens as he consumes each and every drop. Were he in a more poetic mood, he would compare it to ambrosia, but he can write verses about you another time. Instead, he focuses on completing this final act. It doesn’t take long. Once he’s thoroughly licked every trace of cum off your body, he pulls away with a grin. You pat his head, and Simeon hums as he leans into your touch.

“I love you.”

The words sound beautiful coming from your mouth. It’s something that you’ve said before. A sentence that led to this exact moment, and many others like it. Yet he’ll never tire of hearing it, of knowing that he has earned those very words time and time again.

“I love you as well. My god. My beloved. And one day, the world will love you too.”

The two of you embrace. And in your arms, Simeon comes up with ideas for his next altar. It’s sure to take everyone’s breath away. It’ll be bigger than the last one. More limbs. More blood. Wires. Nails— Ah, he’s already getting excited.

It’s amazing; how quickly you inspire him, and all it takes is a hug. You truly are an excellent muse, one that he hopes to be completely worthy of someday. But until then, he is simply an author. An artist. One that exists to worship you.

Eventually you take your leave. There’s work to be done after all, especially for a god such as yourself. And although Simeon longs for your embrace… that just makes it more precious when it actually occurs. Besides, he wants his creations to be a surprise, and it’s impossible for that to happen if you’re looking over his shoulder. So the two of you part. And like the quiet whisper of the wind, you’re gone.

The silence doesn’t last long. It’s interrupted by the ringing of his phone. A number shows up on his screen, one that he hadn’t seen in an incredibly long time. He had tried to block it ages ago, but eventually gave up. Technology still confuses him. ...Some things never quite change.

He accepts the call, and Lucifer’s voice greets him. “Simeon.”

He hadn’t heard it in awhile. The man’s tone sounds deeper than he remembered, and it’s entirely different from your own. The contrast throws him for a loop, if only briefly. Simeon clears his throat. For some reason he doesn’t hang up.

“Yes?”

“This has to stop. The two of you are upsetting the balance. If this continues, then Lord Diavolo will intervene.”

A threat. Of course that would be why he called. But Simeon doesn’t care. No one can stop either of you, including the most powerful demons in the Devildom. Your love transcends beyond that. ...It’s a shame that Lucifer still is unable to comprehend what the two of you are trying to achieve.

A part of Simeon can’t help but feel disappointed at the reminder. “Perhaps he’ll join us. You’re welcome to as well, of course.”

“No. What your doing is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’m simply serving my god.”

“They are just a human, Simeon. And can easily be replaced. There are billions—“

Anger rushes through him; the intensity of it causing him to crack his phone’s screen. His grip loosens, but the rage still festers within him. How dare he.

“Watch your tongue, lest I rip it out of you next time we meet.”

A pause. The silence seems awkward, sad almost. Lucifer eventually breaks it. “...I see I am too late. The others are right. You have fallen. And unlike me, you’ve had no family to help put you back together again.”

“I don’t need one. I have my god, and they have been by my side through thick and thin. What have you done for me, Lucifer?”

Silence. No other answer is needed.

After a minute or two Lucifer sighs. “I must report my failure to Lord Diavolo. You have exactly 48 hours before he arrives. Use them wisely.”

There’s a click, and then the number vanishes from his screen. Lucifer must have hung up. Yet his words echo around in Simeon’s head.

You have fallen. It makes him want to laugh. There is nothing wrong about this. The love that he feels towards you cannot be tainted, nor will it ever waver. For you have given him something that he’s never had before: Freedom. From the Celestial Realm, from his boring day to day life. Simeon had not truly lived until he abandoned it all in favor of following you. No, this was an ascension. One that everyone is too foolish to understand. And Diavolo seeks to destroy everything that you’ve built. But that’s okay, Simeon has a plan.

A few magic circles… some stolen holy relics… and even the future Demon King can be captured. So when he comes, Simeon will be ready, and the foolish prince will walk right into a trap.

A manic giggle bursts from his mouth. This is perfect.

Diavolo will be made to see, like so many others before him. It’s impossible not to after all, given how grand you are. Ah, but Simeon will deny him the privilege of serving you. No matter what, you will only ever have one follower. Diavolo can beg and plead as much as he likes, but he will never get to feel your touch. He hasn’t earned the right, and he never will. Once he has served his purpose, he will be disposed of, just like the rest.

Simeon grins. In truth, The world doesn’t even need to have people in it. A god does not require subjects in order to be considered such. So why bother expanding your little cult, when no one else will ever be able to serve you like him?

You are his. His human. His god. His everything. And no one is going to get in the way of that. This realm will be made into something that is worthy of you, even if he has empty it himself. But once every single creature is gone, and he is the only being left... Then the world truly will love you, won’t it?

#obey me #omnsfw #minors dni #obey me simeon #fallen!Simeon #simeon x mc #simeon x reader #the reader is gender neutral #my writing!#sacrilege

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

Are you still taking prompts? We are thirsty and were hoping for “bite me” in a fivan vampire au. Pretty please? What’s that you say? That’s not on the list you shared? Um, oops? I said we are thirsty! 🤤

Ahaha, okay, I think this is going to do it for the prompts for now. I want to get back to working on PEL, and I have (mostly) given the people what they want. But before you hasten to my inbox to request more of this (which I know the Very Hungry Lot of you will do, and I love you so much for it): do know that this is indeed related to a larger project and this is just the first bit of it.

What is that project? Shh. I am not telling you just yet. It's a secret.

Belgrade, Kingdom of Serbia

June 1896

The summer evening is warm and purple, lit atmospherically by both the older gaslamps and the newfangled electric lights (there is a Serb in New York, a man by the name of Tesla, whose great scientific inventions and experiments with alternating current may soon illuminate the entire world), and the well-dressed crowd flows toward the café in a tide of rustling satin, silk, and velvet, ladies in evening dress and men in top hats and monocles. The establishment is the Golden Cross, in Terazije, a bustling neighborhood just south of Stari Grad, and the attraction is an exhibition of the marvelous moving pictures of the Lumière brothers – the first such show in the Balkans, and indeed outside of Paris, after they were first premiered in great triumph six months ago. Or at least, so it is for most of the attendees tonight. Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky has a different task.

He stands apart from the milling throngs, well dressed in a high-collared coat and silken cravat, dark hair parted ruler-straight and face freshly shaven, a old golden watch tucked in his breast pocket and his shoes polished to a perfect sheen. While the people hurry past almost close enough to jostle him, they have a peculiar difficulty in registering that he is there. They sense something, yes – a cold breath on the back of the neck, a prey animal’s inborn reflex to warily search the shadows – but it never quite clicks. They continue on their way without being troubled in their own sense of reality, or ever realizing who – what – is standing there with them. It is just one of the odd, disjointed experiences that Fedyor has had to come to terms with, in the twenty-two years since he became a vampire.

By habit, he checks the horizon. These summer days are late and long, and Fedyor is still young enough that he can’t tolerate more than a few minutes of sunlight. It has taken years to be able to go out by day at all, half-thinking he had dreamed the waking world, become wholly one with the shadows and the night. When he emerged in the last gasps of afternoon, when he felt the golden warmth on his face for the first time in almost two decades, he wept. It still causes him vestigial pain, but not as much. Not so much that it cannot be borne.

He pulls the slip of paper out of his pocket and checks the name again. Then he puts it back and slips smoothly into the crowd. At the threshold, he feels that faint, telltale twinge, the knowledge of entering another creature’s territory without being explicitly bidden to do so. The Golden Cross belongs to the vampire king of Belgrade, who is rumored to be five hundred years old and a veteran of the Battle of Kosovo in 1389 (which, so far as Fedyor can tell, the Serbs have never gotten over losing to the Turks) and Fedyor is not interested in pissing him off. But therefore it is, by Conclave law, a place where all vampires in the city can freely congregate, so long as they haven’t committed some terrible crime. It also means that Fedyor may find the man he is looking for in here, and not have to cross into enemy turf.

A rich reek of wine and brandy, of hand-cranked ice cream in cut-glass bowls, of ladies’ perfume and men’s cologne, of sweat and starch and thrumming hot blood, rises into Fedyor’s nose as he inhales, as his senses have been honed a hundred times more acutely than what he was previously used to. He searches the crowded room, on high alert for another supernatural. Nothing, at least not thus far. But it is a delicate and fiddly bit of bloodsucker diplomacy for which he is here tonight, having to do with the rumor that a local group of creatures have formed a shadowy secret society called Црна рука, the Black Hand, with the aim of expressly interfering in human politics. This, of course, is strictly against the rules, and they need to be reminded of that fact. Fedyor would very much prefer not to fight an anarchist rebel vampire in the middle of a café crowded with oblivious humans, but the thought crosses his mind that this is an excellent soft target. The eyes of the entire city, the Balkans, the international art community, are fixed on this place tonight. If something went wrong – if the Golden Cross and all the souls within it were blown to smithereens –

Fedyor orders a drink at the bar – he has been promised that one day he will again also be able to eat human food if he craves the taste, but it will not nourish him – and sits down near the back, keeping a sharp eye out. Andre Carr, the Frenchman who has traveled from Lyon as the Lumière brothers’ representative, is setting up the unwieldy projector and barking at his assistants to be careful with the fragile, bulky spools of film, his mustache bristling in agitation. Fedyor gauges the mood of the crowd, the din of their heartbeats, their eager interest, their whispered gossip. Still no other supernaturals that he can sense, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not here. The vampire king and his underlings will have plenty of ways to conceal themselves from a relative child like Fedyor. As will the Black Hand.

He leans back in his chair and samples the whisky. Not bad, he thinks, though it’s been a long time since he drank human libations. It’s nice to be out among regular people, but he always has to keep strict watch on the part of himself that yearns to feed, that wants them to run, to fear, to fall. Fedyor has been a vampire long enough to control the hunger, to drink mostly from animals and space out his feeds on humans, to ask them for their consent or pay them for their trouble, but it’s still a struggle. He understands the urge that drives vampires to sequester themselves, to only live among their own kind, to keep drones and other willing human servants to feed from, so that you are not put to the trouble of chasing down a stranger and politely asking to bite them in the neck every fortnight or so, don’t get mixed up as to whether the mortals are your dinner company or just your dinner. It is a deuced bloody bother of a business. Fedyor always feels like an idiot whenever he tries.

Carr and his minions sort out their difficulties, and eventually the lights go down, provoking another eager murmur. Fedyor is not immune to the lure of whatever they are about to see, and he could have done much worse for a new home. He arrived here six years ago from his hometown in Russia, once his lack of aging became too difficult to conceal from his friends and family. Belle epoque Belgrade is a cosmopolitan, cultured world of stately opera houses and marble palaces, grand balls and gaslights, synagogues and streetcars, mosques and museums, bohemians and bordellos and broad balconies, telegraph wires and trolley cars and twisting lanes, churches and coffee shops in the Viennese style, with white-aproned waiters and colored mosaics and demitasse cups of Italian espresso. It is an ancient city, placed in a lethally strategic location at the confluence of two rivers, fought over in almost a hundred wars and razed almost forty times (and doubtless there are still more unmakings yet to come). Fedyor has found a place among the vampire community here, enough that he is trusted to deal with the Black Hand, despite his immortal youth. As to how that will go, well…

He watches the film with half an eye, impressed by the moving pictures just like his human counterparts, and then he feels it. The coldness on the back of his neck, the chirp of a sixth sense, the unshakeable awareness that he is being observed by a fellow bloodsucker. Though that term is considered somewhat dated and passé these days, mildly offensive. Vampires are eager as humans to participate in the scientific and industrial revolution, to concoct more enlightened regulations for themselves, to create an academic literature for their origins. There is talk among the sophisticated supernatural set of organizing an Academy for Preternatural Science, to hire vampire scholars, to establish a university. It’s a nice thought, if somewhat too ambitious (or so Fedyor thinks) for a race of beings that has only just decided that solving every problem with blood feuds to the death might not be the best idea. He wonders if one of those unreconstructed barbarians is behind him now.

Slowly, smoothly, so as to demonstrate that he is perfectly aware of being hunted, Fedyor turns around, and catches sight of the newcomer across the way. He is handsome – but then again, most vampires are, as it’s one of the benefits of the transformation. This one, however, is possessed of a roguish, rough-hewn attractiveness that seems genuine, still close to the face he wore as a mortal man, and not the eerie, glossy, imperturbable beauty that Fedyor sometimes finds so off-putting about his compatriots. This vampire is also wearing good clothes, and his overcoat is dark red, embroidered with curling black patterns. He looks at Fedyor, their eyes meet, and he nods once, half an inch. Game on.

Fedyor does his best to sit still until the lights come up, and the crowd claps rapturously and disperses to fetch more drinks and gush about the performance. Then he gets up and drifts toward a velvet curtain, slipping unobtrusively behind it. Back here, it is dark, dusty, and smells of candlewax and grease paint, the remnants of another performance, a conjurer’s closet. He steadies himself, turns around, and –

“Good evening,” the voice says, cold and curt. “I believe you were waiting to speak to me.”

“Yes.” Fedyor does his best to smile and appear charming and in command of the situation. “My name is Fedyor Kaminsky, and I am a representative of the Conclave. They have sent me here tonight in hopes of locating Ivan Sakharov, of the Black Hand. Is that you?”

The other vampire regards him flatly. His eyes are brown, as is his hair, which is cropped military-short and kept as sharp as his face. When he folds his arms, his muscles bulge, even through the sleeves of the well-tailored coat. “And if I was?”

“Then,” Fedyor says, “I am authorized by that same Conclave to deliver a warning to you and your associates that your current activities fall outside the bounds of the common supernatural law, and if you persist in pursuing them, there will be consequences.”

The other – well, he hasn’t denied it, so this must indeed be Ivan Sakharov – looks back at him with an utterly unimpressed expression. “Oh, so the Conclave found a new stooge to do their bidding? You’re a bit younger and fresher than the usual corpses those desiccated old tightwads usually send out after us, I’ll give you that. How long have you been in Belgrade?”

“How long have you?” Fedyor is almost sure he recognizes Ivan’s accent; they’re speaking Serbo-Croatian, but in both cases with a familiar cadence. “You’re Russian, aren’t you?”

That catches the other vampire by surprise. He hisses, baring a pair of white and very sharp fangs, and his eyes go briefly black. “You think so?”

“Yes,” Fedyor says. “But older than me, I think. Possibly quite a bit, though by how much, I can’t be sure. If we were to – ” he switches languages smoothly, in midsentence – “continue this conversation in Russian, would that be more to your liking?”

Ivan Sakharov eyes him icily. He must know that if he speaks their native tongue, he risks giving away his age by the style of his grammar, or perhaps his place of birth, and that is dangerous information for an unknown quantity to hold over you. There is a whiff of the emperor’s court around him, or perhaps the empress – does he hail from Catherine the Great’s day, Fedyor wonders, or earlier? There’s a long, crackling pause. Then Ivan says in brittle, too-correct English, “Or perhaps we should converse like this?”

Fedyor inclines his head, accepting that he has – for now – been outmaneuvered. They still haven’t taken their eyes off each other, standing close together in the dim velvet-draped shadows, near enough that if they were human, they would feel the other’s heat. There’s nothing but the faint wintry chill of unliving flesh, though a certain hunger rises unbidden in Fedyor’s stomach nonetheless. Then he says, “This does not have to be difficult. Cease your lawlessness and tell your friends to do the same.”

Ivan takes another step, close enough that their noses almost brush. “The Conclave has no power over me, Fedyor Kaminsky.”

“Do you want to test that?” Fedyor breathes, struggling to keep his focus at the other vampire’s threatening-but-thrilling nearness, the way his blood is singing under his skin in an entirely different way than he expected or frankly, that he wants. Just because Ivan Sakharov is annoyingly attractive (and also Russian) does not mean that he is not a dangerous, war-mongering, secret-cabal-plotting megalomaniac, and Fedyor does not need that sort of nonsense in his life. “If you did, I would, of course, be authorized to place you under arrest.”

Ivan looks at him goadingly. “I would like to see you try.”

Oh, so he is indeed one of those immortals (read: the kind who really need to experience mortality just to be kicked very hard in the balls). Fedyor struggles to contain his irritation. If he shows that this handsome bastard has gotten to him, this will only get worse. “If you promise to desist,” he says, “the Conclave will drop this matter and consider it closed. You and the rest of the Black Hand will not be subject to further investigation. That, or – ”

“How do I know that you are even from the Conclave? That you are who you say?”

“Why would I lie about it?”

Ivan shrugs. “I want proof.”

Fedyor grits his fangs. “What do you expect? A badge?”

“No. But I will accept your blood.”

That catches Fedyor off guard. Not that it should, necessarily. Since vampires can sense the thoughts and feelings of the creature that they’re feeding on, it’s a quick and time-tested way to prove that there is no funny business going on (or at least, no business that is funny beyond the usual). The obvious difficulty, however, is that it requires a possibly unfriendly rival to bite your neck or at the very least, your wrist, and one can understand why there would be a natural hesitation to yield one’s neck (Fedyor happens to be rather fond of his) to the clutches of the likes of Ivan Sakharov. But if he says no, he looks like he is weak or that he has something to hide, that he doesn’t trust Ivan or regard him as an equal, and the already-febrile situation with the Black Hand will only get worse. As bluffs go, Fedyor could call this one. But it would be very risky, and if it blows up in his face…

“Very well,” Fedyor says, chillingly correct. He pulls aside the collar of his evening coat and tilts his head, exposing the side of his throat. “Test me all you like.”

Ivan looks at him with something that makes that thing in Fedyor’s stomach rise up again, hot as an ember left burning in a brazier even when all the other lights go out. He hasn’t been warmed like this, not even by the sun, ever since he was turned in 1874 by a vampire named Dmitri Karamazov. He does his utmost to force it down. If Ivan bites him and senses that –

There’s a final pause, soft as tissue paper, fine as crystal. Then Ivan steps forward, looking almost impressed, as if he expected Fedyor to find some reason to back out. He flexes his jaw, bringing out those two impressively white and sharp fangs again, and reaches out, gripping Fedyor’s waist with his big hands and drawing him somewhat closer than is strictly necessary. Then he whispers, “As you wish, Conclave whore,” and bites.

He’s not entirely gentle about it, not that vampires usually are and not that Fedyor wasn’t expecting it. But all at once, as Ivan sucks at him, his mouth pressed hungrily to Fedyor’s neck, wet and raw and savage, Fedyor goes weak in the knees. He’s been fed on before, tested before, and this is different from any of those. He utters a mewling noise of need that he is shocked and deeply outraged to hear from himself, pressing still closer, knocking Ivan a few steps backward into the wall. His hands come up, seeking purchase on the other’s broad shoulders, a smoky curl of desire rising through him like rich incense. “Mmm,” he mutters. “Mmmgh. Yes. Like that. Yes.”

Ivan doesn’t answer for obvious reasons, since his mouth is otherwise occupied, but Fedyor can feel the little frisson of pleasure that travels through him at those words. That takes him aback. Not that he should rush to generalize, since most vampires are fairly flexible in their intimate preferences (you don’t live that long without wanting to sample everything that is on offer, carnally speaking) but for some reason, he just assumed that this tough, frightening, hard-as-nails secret anarchist supernatural idiot wouldn’t be inclined to gentlemen. Not that Fedyor is necessarily objecting. This feels far better than it has any right to do, considering that it started out as a naked challenge to his veracity. Agh, fuck, he should not think about naked. That makes the arousal burn even more hungrily, as he arches his back and presses himself wantonly against Ivan and knows that he’s hard as a rock and that this utter menace can definitely feel it. Ivan is in no hurry to pull away. He drinks for a few more seconds, past when there can be any reasonable doubt that Fedyor is telling the truth, and then slowly, deliberately breaks contact, fangs still half in Fedyor’s throat, as he withdraws with luxurious leisure. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and growls, “Ah.”

“Yes, ah,” Fedyor says, trying not to stammer, as pulses of hot and cold rush through him from head to toe. “Are you satisfied?”

Ivan gives him a wicked smile, drops of Fedyor’s blood still glistening heart-scarlet on his lips. “Maybe.”

God almighty, kill me now. Difficult, of course, when one is – strictly speaking – already deceased. (And now deceased in a different way, which makes it two kinds of dead at once, which makes Fedyor a prodigy.) He wants to ask if Ivan will perform the customary service of licking the bite wounds closed, but he’s also afraid that he may physically incinerate if Ivan does so, and since fire is rather famously one of the only things that can harm vampires, it is better not to take the risk. Instead, Fedyor pulls out his handkerchief and dabs at his throat, with as much casualness as he can muster. “Well,” he says. “You’ve had my word, Ivan Sakharov. Will you give me yours that you will bring your illegal organization to an end and return to the rule of Conclave law?”

Ivan looks him up and down, eyes lingering on the too-tight fit of Fedyor’s pinstriped trousers. Then he leans in, so close that Fedyor truly does think they’re about to kiss and momentarily blacks out, and whispers against the shell of his ear, “Absolutely not.”

And with that, and no more than a rush of air, he is gone.

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #fivan #fivan ff #anonymous #ask #my god i'm so predictable #(we are all predictable)#but also yes

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xiaomomowrites · 3 years

Text

home

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: “Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

As Childe trails off, he’s suddenly aware of how he’s fidgeting with a button on Zhongli’s coat now. The tips of his ears turn red. He meets his gaze abashedly. “Does that answer your question?”

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Or; Zhongli struggles to define what exactly “home” means to him.

Find it on Ao3!

This part takes place between act V and Zhongli, Come Down. I know I posted this series totally out of order, please forgive me for my lack of organization :,D

A/N: First of all, I finally have a beta reader!! She’s helped me through the process of writing this and I’m incredibly thankful for her support. I accidentally made her cry with this fic though, even if it wasn’t necessarily sad?? Regardless I appreciate her feedback haha.

Oh my, I feel like I’ve been writing these two being really soft for too long. After this, I really need to face the music and write these two fighting. The time has come. They won’t be in the honeymoon phase forever!! I’m gonna vibe check all of you.

Also, do yourself a favor and listen to the songs Home by Michael Buble and Sparks by Coldplay after or during you read this. You’re welcome.

Lastly, you can find me on Twitter @/xiaoscribbles where I’m extremely active and talk too much about Genshin. I love making friends there!

Enjoy <3 -u.n.

Zhongli never had a place to call home.

Or rather, he never bothered to find one of his own and commit to it.

He was always too mobile, too nomadic. He had places to be, people and adepti to see, contracts to see through. Zhongli never found himself settling into one place for too long. Sure, when he was Rex Lapis, he had nested many times. He was a beast whose presence was too large to be confined into one space, so he would glide to the highest mountain in Liyue with ample space for a dragon like him, and settle. Zhongli remembered how he would make it as comfortable as possible for himself using all kinds of things he would pick up on his travels. A deep purr of satisfaction would rumble through him as his scaled belly would make contact with the coolness of the earth, and Rex Lapis would allow himself to relax against the stone, body sinking as if he were weightless. Although, no matter how he shifted, tossed and turned when he tried to rest, something was always missing.

Even the familiar feeling of the Liyuan ground was not enough to fill the void in his chest.

It was satisfying, sure, but never completing.

Hence, his lack of understanding of the human desire to settle down in one home for the rest of their short, yet meaningful lives.

Were they not itching to get up and go somewhere else? See the world? Appreciate the land beneath their feet in all its entirety? Zhongli failed to comprehend. Even an ancient being like him fell short in understanding the idea of a “home”.

Well, what consisted of a home, anyway? Four walls and a roof over their heads? A kitchen filled with food? A soft bed with layers and layers of sheets? What was the meaning of all that, when the true beauty of the world was beyond those four walls, high into the sky, and deep beneath the sea? What kind of pleasure could possibly come out of being domesticated?

Nevertheless, Zhongli did make an old promise to try to understand humans as they were. So sure, Zhongli supposed he could appreciate the art of architecture. He saw how hard people worked to build these beautiful houses with intricate designs to maximize safety for the residents excited to inhabit them. It was endearing, Zhongli thought, how enthusiastic humans got about a house. The idea of settling down with their loved ones would give them so much serotonin, so much drive. It was inspiring to him. Zhongli had always hoped that one day, he could feel the same way about someone.

So why couldn’t bring himself to understand the joy in this “home” everyone spoke of? What was he missing? Was he missing the duvet? The one thousand thread count sheets? Was he missing the fine China he saw peddlers selling on roads far from town? Because he had tried his best, living in his mortal form, to find the simple pleasure in decorating his home.

But no matter what he did, no matter how many throw pillows he placed on the couch, he simply could not deny the gaping hole in his chest when he went to bed at night. He had reached a point where even cooking for one every night upset him so, and he would go to bed disgruntled and hollow. The vast margins left on the king sized bed in the middle of the night kept Zhongli awake. Though he did not even need sleep, he had tried his best to form what the humans called a “proper sleeping schedule”. Apparently, according to Hu Tao, sleeping at four in the morning and waking at seven for work was “not suitable”.

But in truth, what was he supposed to do? Pray tell, what could he possibly do to absolve the issue of the chasm growing in his chest with each passing night?

“Xiansheng!” A jovial voice snaps him out of his reverie.

Zhongli looks up from his mundane paperwork to see a familiar head of red hair bounding toward him languidly. Oh, what a sight for sore eyes.

“Childe,” he greets, “did you pester Miss Hu Tao into letting you back here again?”

“Pester?” Childe brings a hand to his chest to mock his hurt, “I hardly have to bother her to come back here. A simple ‘you look fantastic today’ is always my ticket in.”

Zhongli scoffs fondly. “How can I help you, Childe?” He sets his pen down and leans back in his chair, amber eyes following the Harbinger curiously.

“Well your break is in ten minutes, so I figured I’d come grab you for lunch at Wanmin?” Childe plants two hands flat on the cherry red oak desk and leans forward into Zhongli’s space. There’s his signature teasing smile spreading slyly across his face, the one he knows Zhongli won’t be able to resist.

Zhongli hums in approval. “Sure, let me just wrap up this last form and I should be ready to go shortly.”

Childe drops down to his elbows in response and rests his face between his palms. “You sure? We could just go now, you know. I got Hu Tao consulting Ying’er about the new fragrance for the next hour or so.”

Zhongli leans forward and meets him in the middle. “I must be responsible, Childe. If my lunch break is at noon, then I will not leave my post until then.”

Childe pouts, jutting his bottom lip out cutely in an attempt to convince him otherwise. Zhongli, immovable as ever, simply leans forward and captures his lips between his own. The Harbinger makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and presses closer, positively humming when the ex-Archon reciprocates. But the older man is quick to get back to work, pulling away as quick as he came, but not before he nips at Childe’s bottom lip. The ginger whines petulantly at the loss of contact.

“Have a seat, Ajax.” Zhongli speaks, a hair’s width away from kissing him again. Childe grumbles, but agrees regardless. He seats himself in one of the plush armchairs located in the corner of the office and makes himself comfortable for the next ten minutes.

Zhongli readjusts himself in his seat and picks his pen back up, glancing back down at the form he had already completed. He blinked owlishly at it. He must have finished signing it while Childe was talking without realizing what he had done. Regardless, he moves onto the next document to peruse silently. Mid sentence, he scoffs playfully, shaking his head at the thought of the ginger distracting him so. Is he even surprised at this point? Not even a little bit. The ginger has an incomprehensible hold on his heart, one that he doesn’t really want to shake off.

“Something funny, Xiansheng?” Childe teases from his seat. He’s reclined in his chair, relaxed, head lolling against the cushioned headrest. His eyes are closed and his shoulders are drooping into the leather. He’s relaxed, for once, and the thought of Ajax allowing himself to let his guard down in his presence makes Zhongli’s heart thump happily in his chest.

“Not particularly,” Zhongli pushes himself up with a groan. Goodness, his joints are getting tired. He pads over to where Childe is seated and forcefully makes room for himself on a chair that is clearly made for one person. Childe lets out a surprised yelp at the sudden intrusion but scoots over to make room, anyway. Zhongli makes himself comfortable by angling his body to where it’s being cradled by the junction between the armrest and the back, and opens his arms as a silent invitation.

Childe takes it happily and launches forward to burrow into Zhongli’s chest. He rests a gloved hand over his heart and snuggles closer, inhaling the deep scent of silk flowers and leather. Zhongli’s arms come around to strap him against his chest, gloved hands petting his sides as he presses a kiss to red hair. The contact immediately vanquishes the discourse in his mind. He squeezes him tight for good measure, forcing a grunt out of his Tartaglia.

“Xiansheng,” he calls.

“Hm?”

“You’re working too hard again.”

“Am I?” He questions absentmindedly. “And here I thought I was pulling my weight just fine.”

Childe snorts. “Pulling your weight? You know I make enough for the both of us. You could retire and stay at home, relaxing and reading books, or whatever it is you do at home.”

Ah, there it is again.

Home.

For the second time that day, Zhongli is struck with confusion.

“What is home to you, Childe?” He asks, voice soft and far away. Childe frowns against his chest in confusion.

“Home?” He parrots.

“Yes, home. What is ‘home’ to you, Tartaglia?”

“Hmm,” the Harbinger hums, tapping a gloved finger against the ex-Archon’s chest idly as he speaks. “I suppose home is Snezhnaya. Home is what I grew up in. The unbearable cold and the old cottage house. Ice fishing with my siblings, massaging my mother’s back. Those things are all home to me.”

Zhongli ponders. Of course that is what home means. Familiarity, yes? So, technically, his home was Liyue. The hustle and bustle of trade by the harbor, the loud sizzling woks at the food stands, the loud marketers on the street that work hard day and night, the enthusiastic story tellers spewing exaggerated lies— that was all home to him.

So why, then, was Zhongli still dissatisfied with this conclusion? Home should obviously be Liyue. He created this land with his own two hands. Gave people the very drive that keeps them alive today; he gave the idea of mora and fair trade and economic prosperity. He’s watched countless faces pass him every day, every year, every century. He’s seen new faces, young faces, old faces, familiar faces, too, the ones he had seen on older souls. Reincarnated souls. Zhongli knew those souls. He’s had dinner with many of them on multiple occasions.

And it was no secret that Zhongli was well known in his hometown. Every business owner was familiar with his eloquent way of speaking and ambitious ways of buying. With the arrival of Childe, every business owner all but doubled their enthusiasm now that Mister Zhongli finally had a means to pay. People knew Zhongli, they adored him. They admired his amber eyes and long, beautiful hair, the ends of it looking like it had been dipped in melted mora. When he walked, people’s eyes followed. They would stare longingly at his beautifully crafted coat, his single earring, the fine leather gloves that cover his deft hands, and they would admire the way he walked with purpose, and with fire. A confidence so set in stone, it was almost difficult for one to even approach Mister Zhongli. For so long, he was considered Liyue’s most handsome bachelor, until of course Tartaglia came along and swept him off of his feet, capturing his attention in a way no one else could ever imagine imitating.

Yet, despite all the attention his people lavished upon him, there was always a nagging feeling of isolation nipping at him in the back of his mind. Despite creating the very ground beneath their feet, he simply felt like he did not fit in. Only when he was with Tartaglia did he truly feel like he belonged anywhere. It was rather inexplicable. There was something about the way Tartagali’s presence wrapped around him with a level of tenderness he had never experienced. It covered him like a gentle embrace, welcomed him without judgement, and loved him without expecting anything in return. The thought of Ajax himself made Zhongli’s heart swell

Speaking of which, the said man was now pressed tightly against his chest tracing lazy patterns into the fabric of his coat. Their long legs were tangled where they were dangling off the seat, with Tartaglia’s foot rubbing affectionately against the older man’s ankle.

Oh, how far they have come.

“But,” Tartaglia suddenly interjects, jolting Zhongli out of his thoughts. “If my family were to come here to Liyue to stay, then I suppose Liyue would be home, too.”

Zhongli hums. “Naturally. I’m sure they would find the variety of houses here in Liyue nice and peaceful, perfect for a new home.”

At that, Childe lets out a light laugh. “Honestly? They could live in a cardboard box in Inazuma, and I would still call that home.”

Zhongli frowns. Well now he’s even more confused than when he started. Since when was a cardboard box a suitable home for a human? It completely lacked all the appliances the houses here in Liyue had. Why would Childe settle for that? He of all people was aware of the love he holds for his family, there simply was no way he would call that a suitable home for his family.

“I don’t understand,” he says instead, “a cardboard box, Tartaglia? You do not strike me as the type to settle for such an...unbecoming home. Especially for your family.”

“No, no, Xiansheng,” the Harbinger chuckles, sitting up slightly so he can look Zhongli in the eye. “I was just exaggerating. And, home isn’t always supposed to be a house, you know. Those two things can be mutually exclusive. Maybe not all the time, but, definitely most of the time.”

Well this was certainly new. Now he truly did not understand what it meant to have a home.

“Apparently I do not know.”

Childe sits upright to look down at the ex-Archon.

“Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

Childe is aware he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. Once he starts talking about his siblings, he simply cannot stop. “It wouldn’t matter where I was if I couldn’t hear my siblings from the other room. If I didn’t wake up to Tonia’s loud blow dryer every morning, or if I didn’t hear Anthon trying to talk to her over the blowing, then it isn’t home. If I can’t hear Teucer’s footsteps coming toward me asking about a new Mr. Cyclops toy, it isn’t home. Not to me. But like I said, it’s different for everyone.”

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Childe pushes himself up and off the chair, stretching and yawning obnoxiously. “Great,” he replies once his jaw finishes unhinging itself from that yawn, “let’s eat, I’m starving.”

—

To put it simply, Zhongli rethinks his definition of home all night. After he gets home from his dinner date (Tartaglia tugged on his sleeves until he agreed to leave his shift early in favor of a new restaurant that had popped up recently), he closes the door behind him to take in the composition of his home. Tartaglia had been the one to pick out most of the furniture, so although it lacked many of the traditional Liyuan decor Zhongli would have furnished the place with himself, it had a nice touch of Tartaglia everywhere he went.

His couch, for example, was a deep mahogany leather that stayed cool to the touch despite the hottest of summers. Zhongli’s dresser was nice and tall, a deep chestnut brown cut from the forests of Snezhnaya to match his bed frame. His bed was elevated by an incredibly grandiose four post frame that hung a beautiful golden translucent curtain all around the bed, draping the perimeter and creating an ethereal atmosphere for when he sleeps at night.

(“It’s kinda sexy, don’t you think?” Childe had asked one day, while he was pondering which bed frame to buy for his boyfriend. Not that he needed to, considering Zhongli finally has a stable salary, he just wanted to.

“Ajax,” Zhongli had said disapprovingly, “what about it is sexy to you?

“I don’t knowww,” the Harbinger hums, “maybe it looks like I would feel like I’m on cloud nine when we’re, you know…”

“You can say sex, Ajax, I believe in you.”

“Oh stop that!” Childe whacks him playfully with the catalogue, “I’m being a good boyfriend and getting you a beautiful bed frame cut from the finest oak tree and sheets woven with high quality silk! You could be nicer to me, you know.” He’s pouting, and he knows it. Zhongli’s eyes soften.

Zhongli shakes his head, laughing. “You know you don’t need to do that, you know.”

“I want to,” Ajax persists, “this is your first actual living space as a mortal! I want it to be perfect. I refuse to have my boyfriend, who is a literal god, sleeping on a bed with no bed frame. Unacceptable.”

Zhongli smiles and watches him as he continues to ramble about all the different bed frames he could buy. Oh, his love for this boy knows no end.)

The hints of Ajax everywhere he goes is how he keeps himself sane each night. His possessive urge to be around him every second of every day (courtesy of being a dragon deity his entire six thousand year life span) is soothed with the smell of him on his sheets and the extra toothbrush by the sink. One of Tartaglia’s scarves is folded neatly on the arm of his couch, and during those nights where he truly feels Ajax’s absence, he’ll hold the red fabric close and breathe the scent in deeply. The smell alone is enough to rock him to sleep on some nights, but on others, it simply is not enough. On those nights, he finds himself reading book after book about Snezhnaya culture until he passes out from exhaustion.

One would think that it would be better for them to just live together. Given that they spent every second outside of work with each other, even going so far as walking the long route home just to avoid saying goodbye, a person would look at the way they held each other close in public and think that they’ve been married for quite some time already.

But alas, they had agreed to take their relationship slow in the beginning. The both of them had much to adjust to, given that one of them was a notoriously fierce Harbinger, and the other was an ex-Archon adjusting to the world without his gnosis. They both had complex schedules that they were much too familiar and comfortable with to just up and leave for another person. There was a certain period of time that they had agreed to spend apart, well, as “apart” as they could be, before they decided to do anything drastic, like move in together.

There was too much to consider, anyway, Zhongli reflects as he gets ready for bed. Would their living habits even align? Would Tartaglia even be a good roommate? Would he take out the trash responsibly? As much as he loves the ginger with his entire heart, he doesn’t think he could do it for long if Tartaglia was the type to walk around with shoes on. Such an act should be considered illegal, anyway.

Waiting was the right thing to do.

Right?

The nights Tartaglia spent with him were the nights he could sleep a full, uninterrupted eight hours. They were the nights that Zhongli felt himself truly relax into the sheets and sink into a blissful sleep, knowing his beloved was being held impossibly close. And if nighttime was therapeutic for him, mornings felt ethereal. The mornings where he rose with the sun to be met with the sight of Tartaglia next to him were the mornings he felt like he could fly again, and soar through the open Liyue skies in his rawest form forever, so long as Tartaglia was with him.

In fact, more often than not, Zhongli thought about the way it would feel to have Childe by his side as he explored the skies again. He would think about the way he would have to strap him down, nice and close so he doesn’t fall off his back, and then take off high into the sky. Not too high, lest he accidentally give his boyfriend a heart attack, but high enough to hear those delightful shrieks Childe will let out when he’s excited. He thinks about the way Childe could grasp onto his mane for security, hands threading through golden locks, legs tightening around his torso to avoid falling. Oh, he thinks about this a lot.

But, waiting was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted was for Childe to feel uncomfortable with the pace that their relationship was going and make him uneasy. Besides, just because he was a possessive dragon at heart, it didn’t mean Ajax was willing to cater to his needy tendencies. So, he promised himself that he would create a reasonable distance between them for the time being.

Why then, did he hate this distance with every fiber of his being?

Why is the distance so unbearable, especially at night?

Why is he so unsettled with the very few miles between them? It’s not like Zhongli is in Liyue and Childe is in Snezhnaya. Tartaglia is literally only at the inn.

Yet he craves nothing more but to be close to him at all times. Zhongli’s skin itches with the desperate desire to feel him by his side when he goes to bed, when he wakes up, and all the moments in between. Does that make him clingy? Maybe. But old habits die hard.

Zhongli huffs and looks down at his flattened pillow with disdain. No amount of fluffing will restore it to a state that is suitable for his likes. Even the elegantly woven silk night robe wrapped around his body offers little to no comfort.

He glances at the clock.

It’s only half past midnight. If all went well with Tartaglia’s shift, he should be home now, fresh out of the shower.

Without thinking twice, Zhongli throws together an overnight bag and rushes out the door.

—

“Coming, I’m coming,” Childe calls to the incessant knocks at his door. The knuckles continue to rap against the barrier, though, and Childe’s fingers itch to summon a water blade in the case that things go south. Considering that there is rarely anyone that would dare to disturb him at this time of night, Childe would say his precautionary measures are reasonable. He had summoned an angry water god, after all. It was only a matter of time before the angry mobs got to him.

The knocks sound again, and Childe angrily ruffles his hair against the towel. If they could just wait one second, he could answer the door with dry hair, but no. Peace was not an option, apparently, and neither was a perfectly fluffed head of hair.

He stomps toward the door and swings it open, ready to scold whoever had—

“Xiansheng!” He startles when he sees Zhongli standing in the doorway, donning a simple black t-shirt tucked into high waisted pants that were loose and slightly flared at the bottom, and his feet were covered by simple strappy sandals. Childe vaguely remembers purchasing those pants for him when he had mentioned wanting more loose and liberating clothes. The ex-Archon looks good like this. He looks… impossibly soft. Vulnerable, almost. There’s a distant look in his amber eyes that has Childe mildly concerned, though. Childe tries to ignore the sudden urge to protect him to his last dying breath.

“What are you doing here?” He sidesteps and reaches out to drag his boyfriend in. “I thought we had already discussed you sleeping so late! I know you’re an adeptus, you don’t require sleep, blah blah blah, but still, you—“

“I missed you,” Zhongli stated so matter of factly. “I wanted to see you. So I came here.”

Childe gawks at him and closes the door slowly. So he had just walked all the way here?! At this hour?! Goodness, the audacity—

“Xiansheng,” he whines instead, dragging the older man into an embrace. He wraps his arms around his neck and presses his cheek into his hair. “You can’t just say those things. It’s impossible for me to love you more.”

Zhongli holds him with desperation, welcoming the hug so enthusiastically that Childe knows there’s something to be said.

“Can I stay the night?” The adeptus asks once they pull apart.

Childe looks at him, dumbfounded. “You don’t even need to ask! Go, make yourself comfortable. Are you hungry? Have you had dinner?”

Zhongli drops his bag by his side of the bed and takes a seat, still watching Childe with careful eyes.

“I’ve eaten,” he answers carefully. “I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable at… home… so I came here.”

Childe frowns, and joins him on the bed. He flips the covers open and clambers in, resting back against the headboard. “Not comfortable? Is something wrong with your place?”

“Maybe,” Zhongli tries, “I really don’t know. Frankly I’ve been conflicted about… many things… recently, and I feel as if I have reached an impasse. I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Zhongli,” Tartaglia says, suddenly serious, “how come this is the first time I’m hearing of this?” His voice drops an octave, the worry seeping into his tone.

Zhongli reclines and rests against the headrest, too. “I did not know how to express my troubles to you, mainly because I’m having trouble defining it myself.”

Well, that’s fair enough. Tartaglia can’t find it in himself to be mad at that reasoning.

“Well,” Tartaglia begins, reaching for Zhongli’s hand and hugging his arm to his chest. He scoots closer and uses Zhongli’s shoulder as a pillow. “Why don’t you just start rambling and maybe it’ll come to you.”

“I think I have a vague idea, actually,” Zhongli adjusts himself to make himself more comfortable for Ajax. The both of them find themselves staring up at the ceiling as they converse. “Remember when I asked you what ‘home’ means to you?”

“Of course,” Tartaglia answers. Oh, he has an idea of where this is going.

“Well, I’m unsure of what it means to me.”

Bingo.

“What it means to you?” The Harbinger asks, craning his neck to look up at him. Zhongli hums, affirmative.

“Yes, I’ve been struggling to define the term for myself. I’ve been observing others much more closely and how they define their own home, but I’m afraid it has made me more confused.”

Tartaglia juts out his bottom lip in contemplation. “What do you mean?”

Zhongli takes a deep breath, a long explanation at the tip of his tongue. Tartaglia braces himself, as he usually does.

“Today you told me home was your family. Miss Xiangling told me home was her father, and the smell of their kitchen. Young Xingqiu told me his home was within whatever book he was reading, even describing it as his safe space. And Miss Ningguang, most peculiar of all, had told me home was when she was out at sea, but only when Captain Beidou was by her side. Mind you, I had fully expected it to be the Jade palace, considering the built it from the ground up.” Zhongli rambles, “and I just found it strange how so many humans find different definitions for the word home. Such a simple word, too, so imagine my surprise when I discover it’s true complexity.”

“I’ve encountered many things in my life, Ajax. I have met so many people in this lifetime and watched them grow, watched them die, and even watched some be reincarnated. But I think…” he trails off, and the warmth in his eyes glimmer as he reaches an epiphany. “I think I am struggling to define the term because I have never been presented with the idea of stability. Things are always changing. The world around me continues to warp and I have noticed, in my time so far, that humans find the need for stability and reassurance because of the nature of their short lives. That is where I am lacking.”

—

Try as he might, Tartaglia takes slight offense to his statement.

Lacking stability? The thought was bitter on his tongue.

Was… was Childe not enough?

No, no, he forcefully derailed that train of thought, he came here tonight because you’re the only thing he can rely on in his life right now. Show him that.

“Well,” Childe starts carefully, and thanks the stars that his voice is steady. “What about me?”

Zhongli makes a confused noise. “What about you?”

“Do you consider me as a stable thing in your life?” Childe prods, digging his cheek deeper into his shoulder.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Zhongli snorts.

Childe unironically feels an ache in his chest. He stills against Zhongli. Ouch.

Luckily, Zhongli is at least able to pick up on his sudden discomfort, and he’s quick to follow up his statement.

“You misunderstand, Ajax, you being wildly chaotic is a beautiful thing in and of itself.” Zhongli gently pries Childe off his arm to look at him directly. As expected, Childe is upset. He’s got the same glassy eyes he always dons when he’s upset, but doesn’t want to admit it, and his bottom lip is red and obviously bitten in an attempt to keep himself from feeling unreasonably angry.

“Oh,” Zhongli coos at the sight, “I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine,” Childe blinks hard, “I’m just being dumb.”

“You’re not being dumb,” Zhongli is quick to negate his self-deprecative tendencies, “I must have come off very harsh just now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Childe thumps a fist against his chest, “it’s fine, really.”

“As I was saying,” the Archon continues, “nothing about my life so far has been stable, Ajax. Things are constantly changing. Time continuously flows, and it simply does not wait for any man. Unfortunately, I have seen many people come and go. And unfortunately, one day you will become one of them--”

“Zhongli stop,” Childe interrupts him. He’s angry, now. His brows are furrowed and there’s an evident frown on his face. There’s a slight scowl across his lips where there used to be a precious smile just moments ago. “What the hell?” He asks angrily.

“Ajax,” Zhongli scolds softly, “it would be in your best interests if you let me finish.”

“Well, not if you’re just gonna talk about death,” Childe retorts. He’s aware that he sounds childish, but such a topic is not to be taken to lightly. Especially when it revolves around him, and what he would be leaving behind. The thought makes him sick to his stomach.

“Whether or not you’re stable, whether or not you’ll be here forever, you are the most important thing to me, probably ever.” He speaks with a certainty that makes Childe shiver. “You are the first person in a very long time that has made me want to try to grasp at the fleeting seconds I have with you, Ajax. You drive me crazy. And I love you for it, because never in my six thousand years have I had as much fun as when I am with you.”

Dammit, Childe is crying now. Zhongli has such a way with words, how could he not? Dating him is just one, huge, glorified emotional rollercoaster. Zhongli brushes a stray, reluctant tear away with the pad of his ungloved hand.

“Frankly, stability is overrated,” the ex-Archon smiles at the soft giggle that escapes his beloved’s lips. “I have found, albeit slowly, that I would rather have someone loud and rambunctious than someone slow and settled. That is my role, if anything. There simply cannot be two of us, can there?”

A soft “no” is huffed as laughter from Childe. What a boring relationship that would be, truly.

“But if it is stability you seek, Ajax, let me be that for you. Let me be here, solid as stone and steadfast. Let me be the pillar of strength you need to turn to in times of trouble. Okay?” He brushes a knuckle gently across his skin.

Childe makes a sound that sounds a little broken and a little delirious. “When did this become about me, Xiansheng?”

“To me, it’s always been about you,” Zhongli smiles fondly. Childe feels as if he’s been shot in the heart.

Childe gives him a shaky smile and nods. He can’t seem to control his heart at the moment, so instead, he says, “You’re my home, Zhongli.”

The gears seemed to finally click somewhere in Zhongli’s chest. The hollow feeling inside suddenly swelled with a sense of nostalgia, bringing with it a feeling of peace and serenity. Zhongli’s eyes widen, and the ex-Archon looks down at Childe with a sudden air of solid certainty. Childe almost shrinks at the intensity of his gaze.

“Of course,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Of course it’s you.”

“What?”

“How could I be so blind?” Zhongli cups his face with both hands, and Childe reciprocates by placing both palms on his wrists. Confused, but following along. Cor lapis eyes stare straight into his soul, unforgiving as it digs deeper and deeper into what makes him whole.

“Xiansheng?” Ajax asks, dazed by the intensity of Zhongli’s stare. God, his eyes are so golden.

“It’s you, Ajax,” for once, his voice cracks and he loses composure, “you… are home. You are home. To me, that is my definition of home. I only ever feel-- I only ever feel like I belong when I am with you. It was so obvious, and I--”

“Zhongli,” Ajax gently pries off the hands cupped around his face. His heart can’t handle this right now. It’s too much. He’s too in love, he needs to do something or he’ll explode. He stares directly into those beautiful, mesmerizing golden eyes. Ajax cradles Zhongli’s hands in his own, petting over his knuckles, when he asks, “Marry me?”

His eyes widen comically, as if they weren’t already the size of saucepans with his first epiphany.

“Oh.”

So that’s what he was missing.

“I know we said we would take it slow, and I know I’m young, or whatever” Childe begins to ramble, “but fuck going slow, Xiansheng, it’s been months and all I want to do is go to sleep with you next to me. I know what I want and it seems like you do, too, but if I misread that then--”

Zhongli hushes him with an incessant press of his lips against Childe’s. It is a loving kiss, yes, but it is filled with a desperation that only the both of them understand. It is a kiss that is so different from the others; one full of certainty and ambition, a kiss full of overwhelming commitment. The longing behind the contact is an answer in and of itself, but he pulls away to speak regardless.

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against Childe’s, “yes.”

That night, Zhongli finally comes to the conclusion that home does not have to mean four walls and a roof. It doesn’t pertain to any kind of fancy kitchen appliances, or four post bed frames. Zhongli quickly learns that it doesn’t have to be about a place, and all the stories it tells. It’s not even Liyue, the very land he built himself. It has nothing to do with any of that. In fact, the sheer ridiculousness of Zhongli’s inner conflict has him rolling.

Instead, it has everything to do with the red head beneath him. It has to do with the way he calls his name in the middle of the night, claws his hands down his back and juts his hips forward, desperately seeking friction. Home has everything to do with swollen lips, red from being kissed, cheeks hot pink from the heat slowly filling the room, and strong thighs clenching and unclenching around his waist. Home has to do with his precious Snezhnayan soulmate.

Simply, home is Ajax.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #tartali #zhongchi #chili #tartaglia x zhongli #childe x zhongli #character study #zhongli struggles a lot...#childe #tartaglia #zhongli #rex lapis #help i want what they have

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

Small Gambles

Ezra (Prospect) X I pronoun character

I wanted to get this done before tomorrow, my unread – oh Lord – attempt at my second Writer Wednesday.

I might come back and edit it tomorrow. It’s supposed to be stupid busy for me tomorrow so I might not have the brain for it, and I am so sorry.

Summary: Ezra gets his new arm from a black market fixer. I THINK it is a gender neutral reader…my writing tends to be from the female viewpoint so it is possible I messed up. But I tried to keep it neutral.

Warnings: Some violence. Some pain? Blood assumed. Ezra talking should come with a warning.

“It’ll hurt,” I say to him. “You should get this done by one if the top siders.”

Ezra, his name was, gave me a wry smile. “While I am aware that the pain will be exquisite, I am most certainly assured that getting back the use of my arm, be it a mechanical one, will be worth these moments of misery.” He paused, and said, oddly and without any embroidery, “Besides, it can’t hurt worse than when I had it cut off.”

“Kevva.” I whisper.

“Indeed.”

I’m on the third floor of a tenement in the Downsides. We’re on my balcony, looking out at the rain soaked streets. He asked to come out here “So I can day dream of petrichor and the soft lights of the stars while you work your magic” and after several moments of negotiations – where I let his words flow over me like a beautiful, over complicated waterfall, we struck a deal, and I pulled out the best black market arm his money could buy.

Actually, that’s a lie. The arm on my work table was actually a little better than his money could buy. But I liked his smile. I liked how he embroidered the air with his words and made the silence gentler. A person could sit and listen to that voice forever.

“First, the cap. That’s the part that will hurt.” I examined it carefully under the light. I suspected that this was not the first man this cap had been attached to, but you ask questions in the Downsides, and you die. “This will cover the stump…I mean…”

“You are a being of most direct and forthright language, which, despite my loquacious nature I do appreciate. It is kind of you to try to make a bad situation sound less dire, but it is not needed, I assure you.”

“Tell me how you lost your arm.” I start preparing the cap. The cap was (almost) the best I had, and the part I encouraged him to splurge on, because the arm attachment could be switched up.

There were two jars on my worktable. One of them was conduction gel which would basically melt the skin to the cap. The other had nanites who would much more gently and finely unite man and metal.

One had been paid for. One had not. Which one do you think I grabbed? I shoved the cap on, gave him a couple of shots to numb the pain and make the nanites work. He gasped softly, interrupting his story about someone named Cee.

“So, you know, you can get attachments to switch out that will make prospecting easier…”

“I am afraid that you have quite emptied my pockets, dear sparrow.” His voice sounded strained. I sat in front of him, put my hands on his knees.

“Look at me Ezra. So. You killed this girl’s father…”

“He was stealing my…”

“Oh, no, I get it. I’d have shot him, too.”

He gave me a look. “I have not always been a good man.”

I looked back at my workshop, crowded with junk parts, a bed in one corner. Rent overdue. “I’ve not always been good, either. I think you can’t be good and desperate at the same time.”

“Perhaps.” He managed to give me a smile, “Is that why there has been a – I do think it is a man – sitting on a motorcycle type conveyance, watching your domicile all this time? I thought at first he was here for me, but to be honest, I am not that well known around these parts and have not been here long enough to cause offense.”

My eyes flicked up, met his. I didn’t want to look. “Is his helmet silver, with a blue star? Doe he have a jacket with a star, too?”

“Indeed he does. May I take it that you are familiar with our watcher?”

“He thinks I cheated him. He used to bring me salvage. He brought me some bad parts and I refused to pay what he expected. And I told others,” I leaned forward, took his arm in my hands gently. The cap was almost set. “They refused to buy the parts. Some of them were…well. I recognized the logo. They came off soldiers. Upside guards. People who put tracking chips in everything. People you don’t want to catch the eye of. SO…he wants to hurt me. So far all he does is watch, but.”

“This is not the most secure of locales.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Please rest assured, I did not mean to apply otherwise. However. Everyone must fall into the sweet embrace of slumber sometime.”

I picked up the arm. It was a good model – strong. Made of metal that was light, but durable. “I wish I had a sleeve for it. Something that would make it look like…robotic.”

“I am not a man given to vanity, my pet.” He was staring out at the road, watchful but not looking directly at the man on the motorcycle.

I started attaching the fine connections. I did it with the arm on so I could do some of the work by feel…I could feel the thrum as each bit of the arm started to come online, the metal tendons and gears coming to life.

“Why does it feel so cold, up my shoulder and into my head?” He asked.

“Is your head starting to hurt yet?”

He shook it.

“It will. The nanites are making pathways, reconnecting your mind to your arm.”

“I did not pay for that.”

“No,” I say. “You didn’t.” Three more connections to go.

“And what am I to do, in exchange for your generosity?” There was a slight edge to his voice. The voice of the man who had shot a girl’s father, who had fought and gotten plenty of blood on his hands. It didn’t frighten me, though I suppose it should.

When you go, I want to say, Two things will happen. Either I will run, and manage to flee and find safe harbor. Or I will flee, and I will die, either by the hand of the man below, or by some other desperate Downsider who wants to sell my bits and pieces. I might as well give you the best I feel I can. Because I’m probably not going to live to serve another customer.

“You have not told me the whole tale, I believe.”

“No,” I say, and give into the temptation to rub his back gently, to trace the blonde gash of hair at his temple as I stand up. “I have not. But. I’m done. Let your arm rest best you can over night…that’s why I gave you the sling. If you can let it rest two days, you’d be even better off.” I grab some pills off a shelf. “Blue bottle. That’s more nanites. Your system is killing those little builders as we speak. There should be five pills…” I check, nod, “Take one a day. And practice using your arm in a few days. The more you practice, the better the connections will be. Take it slow and build up. The last three days of the pills are the most important.”

He took it without a word, strangely quiet. His eyes flickered to the now empty road.

“Red, for pain. Take when you must. And now…” I smiled a little. “How would you say it? I bid you a fond farewell, and safe travels as you leave my place and rejoin the great mortal coil?”

He smiled at me softly, and with great, great effort and probably greater pain, made his new arm take my fingers in his, and lift them to his lips. His good hand clenched into a fist as he shook with the effort. His new fingers were very, very cold…and his lips were soft and very warm. A coil of longing like a snake twined around my heart and squeezed painfully, fangs singing deep.

“Take care of yourself, Ezra.”

“And you.”

As the door closed, I grabbed my go bag. It was already mostly packed with things I would need, and I finished packing. I slipped my most expensive arm out from under my bed – it was state of the art and came with attachments. I also had some eyes and other smaller parts I threw into the bag with the last of my tools and nanite cream and pills. I didn’t intend on fitting the arm on anyone, but I could sell it. Maybe I can get off world. Maybe find my way to where the prospectors hang out when they look for jobs. Listen for a deep voice like brocaded velvet spin tales with seven words when one would do.

I ran down the stairs, out the back.

My watcher was waiting for me. I should have gone out the front. Now I was alone, in an alley, with someone who would enjoy hurting me.

“Trying to run out on us?”

“I owe your boss a lot of money…I was hoping to sell this…” I raised the case “And with the money I made tonight maybe make a payment. You know. Show my good intentions.”

He sneered at me, but I never knew what he meant to say because a silver arm wrapped around, silver fingers gripping his throat, crushing him. Ezra held him tight as he struggled, the new arm making little whining sounds of displeasure as he lowered the man to the ground.

“I told you not to use your arm!”

“I am afraid…” Ezra panted, “That it is not allowing me to let go of this unfortunate fool’s throat.” He gave me a slightly panicked look. Not because he (probably) killed someone, but because he lost control.

“I’ve got it.” I approached gingerly, pressing the arm in a few places to make it relax. “The cap’s messed up. I’m going to have to reset it…Ezra. Why did you come back?”

“I thought I could repay your generosity by making certain that you had at least one night of relative safety. If I had known you were about to flee…”

We rolled to body against the wall. I frisked it for useful items before covering it with trash.

“Your hands are shaking, dear doctor…I am afraid you will not be able to assist me in fixing the problems I so egregiously caused by using my new arm. May I propose that you take safe harbor with me? I have a small ship…she is not much but she will get us somewhere else. Anywhere is better than here, I do think you will agree, and there are many who would value your talents greatly.”

I finally ask one of the many, many questions I had been wanting to ask him, since he showed up at my door. “Ezra, do you always talk so much.”

He draws himself up a little. “I assure you, I can be silent when the need arises.”

“No. No.” I stand in front of him. “I want you to promise you’ll never stop.”

I struck him silent, again, I think, for just a moment and he just gives me that slight, curious smile. “I think I can promise that.” I liked that. I liked the idea of his words wrapping me in soft comfort.

“Then I gratefully accept your generous proposal.”

“Right this way,” he bowed.

I didn’t look back, as I followed Ezra down the alley and away from everything I’d known, and feared.

There was too much to look forward to.

#Ezra (Prospect)#Pedro Pascal #ezra x reader #fanfic #writer wednesday

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frightfurtabby · 3 years

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HimiKiyo Week 2021: Day 1- Creeping Darkness

//HimiKiyo Week 2021 is finally here! Took a little bit tonight to finalize edits and come up with a title. Look forward to more each day for the next week~

I’m proud, this is one of my longest singlechapter fics ever if not the longest

Links to other Platforms:

Amino: https://aminoapps.com/c/danganronpa/page/blog/himikiyo-week-2021-day-1/5B58_R2MsVulaQEnXkXVBzYlGjd3mXnP3Z

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34119466

The seaside village Himiko moved out to was more out of the way than the usual cities and suburbs. Apparently, her mentor couldn’t come. It was going to be a pain being out in that little house all alone. Who knows, maybe he’d sent another student of his the same kind of message?

To her disappointment there wasn’t anyone else, still not a single other apprentice known to her. She decided that after not doing anything yesterday but unpacking and eating and sleeping she would go over to the shrine marked on the local map. If nothing else she could pray for good luck before really getting down to working.

The course of this assignment and her whole life changed the moment she saw that strange figure at the offerings box while nobody else was around. They wore a long green kimono with beautiful dark hair almost matching that outfit in length. They looked to be glowing ethereally, with pale white skin akin to a porcelain doll.

Their hand was in the offerings box. At first she assumed they must be giving their own prayers and as such stayed back so as to not intrude. She noticed then that the figure was taking something *out* of the offerings box and that’s when she wondered if they were a thief.

“Fret not, these offerings are for me, dear human.” a voice came to her, seeming at first separate from the figure still several feet ahead. Someone addressing a person as “human” and saying it was their offering… She’d never seen a kami before, but that was the sole explanation that made everything make sense about them.

“Then you’re a kami?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow.

“That I am, I am called Shinguji. This family name refers to residing here, at the True Temple. My given name Korekiyo means just and pure”

“I-it’s a beautiful…” The mage was torn in half between the word ‘name’ and the word ‘place.’ The brook not far behind the pair was babbling audibly and birds were chirping. The water went past the trees and out to the river, which fed it almost directly into the ocean.

Even if something wicked this way was coming there was nothing yet to taint the natural beauty. She wasn’t sure if it would even be able to with a keeper this pretty.

“A beautiful what?” The spirit gently prodded her with the question. They had noticed her biting her lip in uncertainty.

“Name, your name is pretty. Uhh, and I’m…” she was too flustered to easily find any of the necessary words.

“You are Yumeno Himiko.”

“So you knew that already?” It was not that surprising in hindsight, but in that moment she was caught off guard, focusing on trying not to be so tense in their presence like she had been up to that point. She worried she was giving off the wrong message.

“I intuited it, but I don’t blame you for being surprised. Most humans think of us Kami as mythology, but I’ve known these old figures, and dealt with many creatures as my neighbors in my centuries of life.”

“In that case then are you able to intuit why I’m here?” The mage tried hard not to sound too much like a schoolgirl talking to her popular crush.

“I could. It would be easier if you told me. Whatever it is, you seem particularly stressed out by it.” They tilted their head slightly, a very human gesture, and it was clear they were reading deeper. Either humans had gotten it from the ancient gods or vice-versa. One of those things nobody would ever be able to remember the origin of.

It was better to answer the question than get too off track wondering about that.

“Well, my master who is a magician told me there was something that was going to go wrong here. He gave me the mission to stop it.”

It was Kiyo’s turn to be concerned.

“Well, I have been given whispers that a nasty yokai is approaching this land. It comes from the far north and wishes to sap power for itself. Very few claiming to be survivors of this have shown up, and we’re all so isolated these days...”

That was a bad sign.

“Is it because of us?” If her master had worried so much about it then there was no doubt in her mind that this thing would be going after humans if it hadn’t already started.

“Not all of you, but some who are greedy have broken many natural connections and scattered the so-called mythical creatures and spirits away. In a way it’s beautiful, the circle of life even. Although, it is believed perhaps negative energy has attracted this beast from its home and onto its rampaging path.”

A realization hit her. In her research she found that even things that you would not expect to have a soul or a consciousness did at least have the same kind of natural energy as things that did. So objects and anything/everything else with a soul would be susceptible to producing negative energy.

“So it's a cycle of things feeding into it.”

“Yes. I fear if it gets to a certain point it’ll have enough momentum that there will be no stopping it. So you should think about what you will do to face the possibility.”

Something about those words felt familiar. Even though it was a serious topic, Himiko was comforted.

“And you need someone like me to stand a chance?”

“The more the merrier, of course. There are things even I may have missed and for that you can be an extra set of eyes and ears. We’re going to train and prepare.”

The rest of that afternoon was spent, at first guided by Kiyo and by the end on her own, getting more used to the area and learning some specific landmarks.

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

Starting the following day, Himiko started up a routine to come back every day, which would last for several months. Each day she learned new things about the old times that had only ever been guessed about from artifacts. She learned that even Kami had a cutoff point in memory, even if it did happen to be thousands of years stronger than mortals. The only truly omnipotent beings were those that had created earth eons ago, who were as elusive as ever.

She also trained. Oh, how wonderful it was to train again. And with a more formidable opponent than most people she would ever encounter normally. After each session she was told more about the species of yokai, and which were more likely to be dangerous foes that needed preparation for.

They would pray and make wishes for having strength and safety at the lucky rock on the path along the brooks. Kiyo allowed Himiko to take and keep a bit of power from it.

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

It happened when she thought it was going to be just another day of what they had been doing. It was not.

There was something off in the air. And it wasn’t just the dead trees, those were normal for winter. What wasn’t normal was the small patches of rot in them already, the rot had even spread to the grass and other plants on the ground. There was a trail of it and it reeked of a nasty yokai. A being only interested in death and destruction.

Even worse was that Kiyo was nowhere to be found. They had made a game plan about that, Himiko was to check somewhere inside the shrine in order to find clues. Inside the prayer chamber proper it was a mess just like it would be in the case of any other type of break in. The rot hadn't set in because the room was blessed and was better able to resist, but there was a distinct trail of slime that showed its movement and the room.

She could picture Kiyo weaving around it and dodging attacks to have a chance to hit back at it. The fight had torn up the screens and the ancient art it depicted, and even punctured holes in the inner walls and flooring. An extra band of beads like one Kiyo would often wear was left behind. The signal was received.

Something wasn’t right, however. A presence that was too strong to be explained by the evil residue. It seemed like what they were working against had minions left behind, for the exact reason that someone like her was in the area and had to be stopped. The question was how many were there?

Five of them came up from either the ground or one of the holes puncturing the walls, one right before her and four circling around, forming seemingly out of the shadows and the goo. They quickly solidified into dark shapes that were much like werewolves, though she recognized among them different animal traits expressed. One even had bunny-esque lop ears.

Himiko took out her wand and started muttering some spells under her breath, making a broad sweeping motion to keep all at bay. The one closest was pushed back and stumbled in surprise. Trying to charge her led to an acrobatic maneuver: it leapt over onto its back and she whipped out a stage magician-like string of handkerchiefs and pulled it up to start choking the beast out.

They surprisingly weren’t as vicious as she’d imagined from how each of them had shown up. It couldn’t do any of its special moves. Unfortunately, its friends could, and they did. They rushed and she let go for a moment, tripping up one and using its momentum in a way it crashed into the first one before it could recover.

Swinging off it allowed her to jump up and kick a third before lashing a whip of electricity from her wand, yanking the fourth and gaining momentum by bouncing off it with a drop kick right about where the lungs were.

Watching them struggle, she realized they had once been animal spirits for sure, only to have been corrupted. They weren’t just something conjured by their boss.

Hesitation for even one second almost cost her when one swiped claws, just barely missing her and taking her hat instead. The advantage of being shorter than the monsters was they’d miss like that. And much like the stage magic she pretended to use in daily life, the hat was spring-loaded with some friends for them to play with. A magic box that was shattered by the attack let out doves of magical energy that distracted each as well as a jack-in-the-box dummy that took her place as a target for just long enough to take one out.

Even though the trick had been figured out, she could tell from their expressions changing the exact instant of the realization there wasn’t much the poor things could do when the tide had been turned. The rest of them were dispatched with a quick volley of attack spells. She sprinted out, conjuring another hat loaded with a similar trick from her storage at home, just in case. It was more physically exhausting than mana draining so she borrowed from her reserve to recover breath and catch up sooner.

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

She crossed her fingers that those things weren’t going to be much more of a problem on the way over. The trail grew cold on her about a dozen times already the past 4 days but each time she doubled back to a previous checkpoint, there was another sign she’d accidentally glossed over. Each time something was left in an obscure place: a back alley or a bush only to be dragged out by a cat, occasionally right to her.

Whether it was an order from Kiyo or someone else, she wasn’t sure, but all the help was appreciated.

It seemed to be that when it took someone, it had to complete a loop back home. It was much faster than she could follow on foot. So the mage took to various buses and trains when she needed to.

Himiko hadn’t slept in nearly 24 hours by the 4th night, and all the past nights had been similarly lacking in rest. She’d set alarms to go off within a few hours of very scattered naps so she’d at least run decently when it finally came down to it.

She snuck out of an inn somewhere very rural and very cold in the northern reaches of Hokkaido. She could just feel the cave system nearby was definitely the origin point of the attacker.

Before she could even begin the climb upwards, an upright, tall figure came barrelling down in her direction, diving from above off of a rock and gliding down gracefully, coughing and panting, falling to their knees after the taxing stunt. That fall easily could have killed a human, plus most people couldn’t fly without magical objects.

“We need to get back up there, hurry!”

“Kiyo!”

However, before the first shape could speak further they were interrupted from behind Himiko. Just a few feet downhill a second Kiyo was standing.

“Don’t Himiko! That thing can become other entities!”

The first Kiyo to arrive chuckled and shook their head. “Well, that’s true, clever of you to tell her first.” A deep sigh later, they continued. “Shame I’ve heard of that little trick before and prepared something for this kind of thing.”

“A double cross is it?” the second Kiyo asked. “It’s quite a claim you have there, being the real me, having planned for your own deception.”

Whichever Kiyo was the real one, it was hard to tell at first. The two auras had been in close proximity so a mage in training would have a hard time pulling apart which was which. Then the first Kiyo cleared their throat again.

“Well then, I have a proposition.” they said, turning their attention back to Himiko. “Yumeno Himiko should be able to ask a question, then see how both of us answer, and she’ll know which of us is real.”

“Of course, after spending so long with me she’s bound to know the real one. I’d be crazy to decline,” the beast said.

Kiyo knew this thing would do anything to avoid being pegged as suspicious. It was a double bind for the beast. The only way this was ending was fighting it. This was part of that plan. Delaying it just a tad until the right time.

Himiko cleared her throat, glancing between the two one more time before she closed her eyes. It was nerve wracking but as long as it wanted to not out itself, the yokai would never blindside attack her.

“My question is very simple: What is it that I was training to do?”

The creature nodded. “Understood. This one is easy. We were going to stop the one who’s taken all those others and stop them from taking enough power for its plan.” It turned to Kiyo, giving a taunting glare. “And before the monster tries any trickery, to be specific, we were practicing your magic and got you a mana boost. It’ll help the new technique not be so taxing on you.”

That was almost entirely correct. Kiyo knew then their suspicion was right and something in the area had been spying and relayed all its gathered information back to prepare this creature for any threats that may spring up. That’s what attacked first, the helpers that Himiko had to fend off to get here.

“Alright. My turn.” Kiyo remained characteristically calm face to face. “We were training. So I don’t have to repeat what the other me said, I’ll agree. However, there was something missing from that answer.”

“Missing? What, pray tell, did I miss?”

“The mana boost served as a test to see if you were already there. And I felt something that may have been a minion performing recon.” Emphasis on the last word. That was something Kiyo had been anticipating. Before they had been taken, she was given a code word. They only mentioned it to her in a whisper on the day that they felt a presence leave to the north with no other context. ‘Recon’ was that word.

Eye contact was made, Himiko gave a slight nod to show that she understood and it was off to the races. She went on ahead, up one path leaving the Kiyos behind. It was a signal to the real Korekiyo. And so, the two fought again, much like they had when the faker had invaded the temple and kidnapped them to try and complete the ritual.

They weaved in and out, sometimes further to one side away from Himiko and her destination when Kiyo was having their way and closer, forcing her to duck and use repulsion spells to avoid being caught up in the scuffle. Kiyo’s attacks looked like needles when they flew at their enemy, so she even gave those attacks a boost. She heard the cries of anger and pain when one managed to hit just the right place.

The yokai was a resilient one though, it would just pluck them right out and fire back energy attacks of their own. One of them hit Kiyo and sent them tumbling back down the mountain some distance, dropping several dozen feet to a thud.

They got back up almost instantly, knowing how much danger the girl ahead was in, and pulled out a pair of scythe to quickly dig into the mountain’s side and climb up to a point where they could launch up and gain enough momentum to catch up right behind that yokai.

Faster than ever, Himiko ran. It seemed being tired was starting to slow both down the further up the mountain the climb went. She dove and rolled right into the cave and the faker caught up, confirming even further that it was the yokai when it dove to try and stop her from entering, the disguise melting away grotesquely. She didn’t even have time to be offended at it ruining and distorting those beautiful features because of how fast it barrelled back into the base.

All she could do was point her wand directly in its face and say the words. Like a bullet, red light with a pointed tip struck right through an already gaping hole that showed the black flame-like matter that was its heart. The evil and corrupt soul was pierced.

It could barely re-shape itself anymore with its wounds. It stared at her with half its true features and half rippling nothingness as the face it wore sloughed off and dissipated like a puddle under sunlight. Even the animal-like maw began falling off, fangs first.

Then Kiyo wrestled it from behind and wrapped it in chains of light. It was likely already dying. But part of its corrupt nature would linger in this spot if it was not sealed and purified.

“What no! Nooooo”. It started shrieking when the shock of being blindsided had finally worn off and it found itself in chains, being dragged away towards the cave’s inner chamber. It was powerless to do anything but watch these interlopers ruin everything.

“Unfair, unfair, unfaaiiiiir.” Most of the thrashing came in the form of weak kicks. It was truly pitiful for something that had beaten kami before. .

“What a childish temper tantrum.” Kiyo scoffed at it, only briefly turning a shoulder to pay it any mind as they continued towards the end of the mission. It was so mad, and nipped away trying to bite its captor in spite of there being no chance of succeeding now. .

Himiko came to a strange spot on the back wall and Kiyo lifted the beast over their shoulders and used its paw to unlock a big room full of artifacts, a bunch of seals on them to keep its victims contained. Many tomes of black magic and scribbles showcased a plot to steal power from all the shrine deities to build a “Domain of Darkness”. In which it plotted to prevent the sun from ever rising above Japan, and the whole planet after long enough, ever again. This would remove power from any being who got magic from natural resources and would kill billions of mortals.

Himiko looked at the plans and laughed nervously, sweating a bit.

“So um… you don’t think that this would have worked?” she asked, desperately wanting this to just be the pipe dream of an arrogant monstrosity.

“Absolutely not. I’m by no means the strongest of my kind, and you’re still training. It took prisoners, yes, but this is delusional. We won in part because we were underestimated. That kind of fatal mistake would have doomed this plan eventually.”

A sad whimpering came from it, laying on the ground in defeat.

Himiko was tasked to watch over it while Kiyo performed the unsealing rituals. Each one she spared glances at, admiring them from her spot in the center of the room. She could almost feel a tinge of jealousy among the defeat and anger emanating from their felled foe. It was way more interesting watching Kiyo work and chat with each spirit that was freed. Each time they agreed instantly to help get the rest out, which hastened the process.

Each one helped before some left to make sure their shrines were fine. The remainder, led by Kiyo, thanked Himiko. Their hands warm around hers. Kiyo felt every little soft spot on her hands and even some slight callusing, presumably from the fighting. Even those bits were lovely.

“You can go home now. It’s getting late but we need to stay for now. I will return to you with the important news.

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

Himiko got home first, since that was decided as the meeting place. It was far enough from the shrine that it wouldn’t be immediately obvious if that entity came back for another round. She got on her knees in front of her bed, elbows firmly leaning into the mattress so she could clasp and pray. She was exhausted.

“Please let it be gone once and for all.” She trusted Kiyo could do that much.

Then she was awoken by footsteps and sat upright to who was joining her. Her door had opened and glowing in the moonlight, Kiyo came in, closing the door behind them.

“I have seen to it that this chapter is done.” The spirit held a hand to her cheek and gently brushed a long finger across part of her face. “Thank you, your journey has only truly just begun but you can relax for now.”

Himiko was flushed a bright red.

“I was struck by your beauty from the moment that I walked to your shrine.” Her heart raced. They’d touched a couple times by now but this was the most breathtaking and close. The most intimate. She raised a hand of her own and touched Kiyo’s arm gently.

A soft smile spread on the spirit’s lips. “Oh, I could tell. I could also tell that there was a pull here. Some call I needed to answer for you and it's only become more clear that there was more to it than that.”

Time felt like it slowed down to a stop as the two maintained soft eye contact.

Then they kissed her. A warmth emanated from them, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“More to it?” she asked, even though the kiss gave her a very good idea of what they were going to tell her next.

“I love you. And so… I want it to actually be *our* journey.” They heavily emphasized the word indicating that the adventure would be shared. It already was, it had been since the day she came to this place.

“Would it really be okay? For you to leave your shrine I mean. When it comes time for that.”

“No worries about that, I can find someone for that when that’s necessary.”

#HimiKiyo #Himiko Yumeno #Korekiyo Shinguji #himikiyo week #fanfic #writing #ao3 #amino #danganronpa #danganronpa v3

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 3 years

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@gingerreggg thanks for the appreciation! TnT

Heads Up- Part 14 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"Is that necessary?" Suzi complained, as Joseph placed a motion sensor on the table next to Caesar. "And where did you get that, even?"

Joseph grinned his characteristic smirk. "It's to keep the neighborhood kids from messing with my bike. I have to leave it outside cause I don't have a garage..."

"You sure are prepared for everything, Jojo!" she giggled.

Joseph always had the knack for expecting the unexpected, ever since they were kids. Perhaps that could partly explain why Joseph got used to having a talking art project so quickly. How he made it look so normal.

"Okay, Caesar. We're gonna have to get you to not move, not one twitch!" Joseph instructed him. "If you move even the slightest bit, this alarm goes off."

Caesar blinked, and the sensor immediately began to beep.

"Sorry bout that," Caesar apologized.

"You don't need to blink, don't you?" Joseph asked as he reset the sensor.

"It's a force of habit!" Caesar said defensively. "I know I don't even have any tear ducts but it's a reflex! Maybe Anthonio used to blink!"

"Of course he did, he was human," Suzi said.

It struck Joseph as odd that Caesar referred to Anthonio as someone else.

Did he not consider himself Anthonio? Or at least, not anymore? Suzi did, after all, say Caesar was less of a ghost, and more of a reincarnation. Maybe he'd found a new identity.

Maybe he'd found a new purpose.

The entire situation intrigued Joseph. "Say, Suzi, about those Mesoamerican lore of yours..." he asked, "How exactly do those 'spirit guardians' work?"

Suzi laughed. "You're really curious about all this, aren't you?"

Joseph shrugged. "I suppose."

"Hmm. Well, it says here in these old texts, that most spirit guardians were ancestors that returned to the mortal plane, when summoned by those in need, to act as a guardian angel of sorts."

"Heh! Guardian angel you say?" scoffed Caesar. "I'm just a goddamn head."

Suzi shot him an annoyed look and continued on. "Anyway, it's said that these new beings were usually a 'predescessor' of some way. Not necessarily by blood, per se, but by legacy-- say, a warrior could summon a spirit of a warrior before them, or a scientist that of an old philosopher..."

"...and I suppose Anthonio was a sculptor who sought to carry on his legacy in you."

"Then why don't I remember being Anthonio, then?" Caesar retorted.

"Because, Caesar," Suzi said, "the wisdom of the past is tainted with the memories, the identities of those who experience them. I can never be too sure, of course," she shrugged, "but I feel it's made that way to pass on their wisdom to a new worthy successor to their legacy-- yet from a whole new perspective unclouded by their own beliefs. So that Joseph's art would be inspired by Anthonio's, but still be Joseph's own."

Joseph laughed at the irony. "Like how I copied...er, based, Caesar's face off on the statue Anthonio made...which he'd actually based on his own face."

Destiny sometimes did strange twists to absurd results.

"Alright, let's do this one more time!" Joseph said, replacing the motion sensor.

--------

Day by day Caesar practiced standing still. Trying to look like a perfectly ordinary, non-living sculpture. Trying not to blink, or move reflexively, just staring vacantly into nothingness like the lifeless figure he originally was.

It helped that Caesar's eyes never felt dry, even without blinking, they were clay, after all. It didn't hurt, or feel very uncomfortable, but it did make him nervous.

But he fought said feelings, because he knew it was all for Joseph.

He was doing it for the person he loved the most. After all the things Joseph had done to make his life a happy one, this was the best way for Caesar to pay him back.

By serving his original purpose as Joseph's grand masterpiece.

And it was enough to motivate him to try his damned hardest.

"And that's eight hours!" Joseph exclaimed, checking his stopwatch. Caesar had managed to keep still without triggering the beeping of the motion sensor for a record period of time.

"You can relax now, Caesar. Eight hours is all we need."

Caesar blinked and sighed.

"See, you could do it!" Joseph encouraged. "Eight hours each day for two days. Enough for the gallery to hold you on exhibit, and have the judges grade you. And then, hopefully, I graduate and get to have you back."

"You promise?" Caesar asked, in almost a pleading tone.

"I'll try my hardest to get you back," Joseph told him, his mind lingering on the faint possibility that Caesar might be selected for permanent display.

Joseph used to want to make a sculpture so exquisitely defined that it would be put up there in the gallery, alongside those of the greatest artists, forever. How strange that he now wanted the opposite.

He'd made Caesar far too beautiful, and because of this he risked losing him.

"Say, about that thing you said earlier?" Suzi told Joseph. "You based him off an old sculpture by Anthonio, didn't you?"

"I mean, it wasn't a painted statue, so I doubt they'd see the similarities with Caesar all colored and all." Joseph added with his usual mischievous grin.

"Still, he does look a little plain," Suzi pondered, as she looked at the bust from different angles. "We ought to spice him up a little!"

"Oh great," Caesar complained. "More dress-ups."

Suzi pulled out a handful of ribbons, scarves and other accessories and began trying out a bunch of styles to make Caesar look more striking-- and hopefully disguise him from anyone who would suspect Joseph stole the design.

A bowler hat, necktie and a monocle. "This is stupid," Caesar grumbled.

A masquerade feather headdress and a colorful bead necklace. "Hell no," complained Caesar again.

A magenta beanie hat, heart sunglasses and a short shawl. "Are you kidding me?" Caesar cried irately.

But there was one set of gear that made an impact on Caesar, when Suzi put them on.

A headband, designed with a zigzagged line between orange and violet, with a pair of prominent white feathers on each of the temples, and a soft, pink scarf to complete the look.

Caesar opened his mouth to complain, and quickly shut it again as soon as he saw his reflection.

He...actually kind of liked this one.

"Say, that actually suits you well," Joseph said.

"I think so too," Caesar smiled, pivoting slightly on his neck base to see his reflection from another angle.

"So it's settled then?" Joseph asked. "You'll be wearing that to the exhibit?"

"Sure," Caesar agreed. "Anything that won't make you look like a ripoff."

Joseph smiled. He admired Caesar's getup: with the scarf and the headband, he looked positively divine. He looked lovelier than he'd ever had.

He knew that the judges would absolutely like him.

He just hoped they wouldn't like him enough to take him away.

-------

It wasn't long before the day of the exhibit, of Joseph's graduation, was close at hand.

Sleep came little to the troubled artist, as he lay on his bed, his eyes blankly fixed onto the ceiling. The room's only light came from a harsh, white table lamp.

It was three days, before he had to prove himself to the world.

To his mother, Professor Lisa, that he was worthy of her respect.

And to the legacy of his late grandfather, Jonathan, who had been his inspiration, as a child, to become an artist in the first place.

Joseph imagined his grandfather watching him from the stars, invisible but ever present. If only he could see him now. If only he could tell what he'd have thought of him.

His mind drifted back to Suzi's quote, about the spirit guardians being the souls of those who came before. To pass on their legacy.

He couldn't help but imagine. What if Grandpa Jonathan himself had possessed his project bust? He giggled at the thought of his beloved grandpa as a talking, bouncing clay sculpture.

But yet fate seemed to have chose Anthonio Zeppeli to be his guide.

There must have been something special about him that he needed to pass on.

Or maybe, it was just Anthonio himself being perfect for him. Strange that they had to meet in such an improbable way.

He was different now, reborn as another person entirely. Another person that Joseph adored the way he was. Body or no body.

Thinking about Caesar made Joseph's heart thump hard within his chest. Why did he feel this way? To a figure he created? Was it weird? Was it wrong?

And yet as he listened to the steady drum of his own heartbeat, he decided that no, it seemed like nothing felt more right. Caesar was his.

It was then Joseph realized that the steady thumps were getting louder. He first feared there was, perhaps, something wrong with his cardiac rhythm. But then he felt there was another source, that seemed to be coming from outside.

And as Joseph turned his head to look, right on cue, Caesar came bouncing into his room.

In the dim light, Joseph marveled at his bizarre, surreal beauty as he hopped across the floor, still clad in the headband and the scarf that he'd come to enjoy wearing.

Somehow, as ridiculous, slow and clumsy as his only mode of transportation was, Caesar looked oddly majestic.

The vigor and strength with which he pushed his neck against the floor with each hop. The gracefulness as his head turned upward at the highest point of each jump, his headband's feathers fluttering almost like tiny wings. The way his torso stump flexed as it barely cleared the floor with each little forward bounce. And of course, the sheer look of focused determination displayed on Caesar's face as he made his way toward the bed.

He was scarcely even half a man, but his spirit had the strength of many.

To even move his clay form along the distance from kitchen to bedroom took considerable effort, without the aid of arms and legs. And yet Caesar made it work. Caesar made the impossible possible. In spite of his tremendous handicap, he learned to persevere, to overcome.

And maybe Joseph realized why he admired Caesar so much.

Not just with his gorgeous, colorful clay exterior, but with the soul within, burning so bright with passion and determination, despite all odds that barred his way.

Perhaps this was why they were fated to meet.

"Jojo, you awake?" Caesar said, snapping Joseph out of his admiring stupor.

"Huh, yeah, I am now," Joseph mumbled. "What's the matter?"

Caesar looked downward, sadly. "I just feel lonely."

"And next you'll say, 'Can I sleep on your bed tonight, Jojo?' huh?" Joseph smirked.

"Can I sleep on your bed tonight, Jo--" Caesar began to say, before realizing it. "Huh? How did you know--?"

Joseph laughed warmly. "You don't even need to say it, Cae. You're always welcome with me. Anytime."

Gently, he lifted the bust up from the floor. By now, his heavy weight now felt familiar and no longer burdensome. He gently laid Caesar onto the pillow next to him, and, removing his scarf and headband and placing them onto his bedside table, lovingly laid a blanket over Caesar's stubby torso.

With his body, or lack thereof, covered by a quilt, Caesar looked less like a sculpture and more like Joseph's very own, perfectly typical roommate.

Joseph laid back down onto the bed, gently embracing what little body Caesar had, warmly and tenderly underneath the covers.

"Goodnight, Caesar," he said, resting his head against Caesar's soft, warm clay body.

"Goodnight too, Jojo," he responded, as he closed his eyes for the night.

Artist and artwork fondly embraced, within the dimly lit room without anyone else to witness. Suzi was at her home today. It was just him and Caesar, together alone, gently feeling each other's gentle warmth in a fleeting yet sincere moment, as rest soon enveloped their tired minds.

A fleeting yet sincere moment that Joseph wasn't sure he'd get to have again.

--------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #hands of life au #gingerregg #jojo's bizarre adventure #caejose #caesar x joseph #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph #heads up #battle tendency

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

Text

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.IX

Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.VIII - ch.X

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel never thought the day would come when Grunkle Ford would ask her to go down to Earth. Sure, she was allowed to go visit as long as she was hidden and back at Olympus at a certain time, but she never thought she would be standing before her father-figure and be asked to specifically go down to Earth, but here she was.

“I… I want you to check on Stanley.” Grunkle Ford asked solemnly. “And Mason, too, for that matter. See if they’re alright.”

“Um… okay.” Mabel was a bit unsure if she dared believe his instructions. “You want me to go down there and pay them a visit?”

“No.” Grunkle Ford said. “I’m sorry, but no. I want to project yourself onto the art of Thebes and see if they’re alright. Bill says Stanley isn’t… with him, but he is very busy thanks to a small war in the Middle East. Do not make yourself known, simply see if they’re both okay.”

Mabel smiled slyly at him. “You want me to spy on our mortal family members?”

Grunkle Ford sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

“YES!” Mabel cheered and punched the air. “Finally, a chance to use my sneaky peaky spy skills!” And she ran out of the temple, tripping and breaking a vase along the way.

And so Mabel went down to Earth, traveling from statue to statue, painting to painting, floor art to floor art, all throughout Thebes. She had never been to the Big Olive and was excited to see the new place and to find Dipper and Stan’s home.

It was well into the night at this point. The stars twinkled and the night air was warm and soothing. Mabel thought he heard a familiar voice filled with laughter, and she looked down the street and grinned widely from the stem of a birdbath. She was ecstatic to see her brother on a date with a beautiful young lady; she decided to follow them and listen carefully. This was also good reassurance that Stan was okay; Dipper wouldn’t have left his side otherwise.

“Wow, what a day.” Dipper sighed. “Dinner by the ocean, that play… oh boy, I thought I had problems.”

Pacifica and Dipper both laughed, but one was having to force it more than the other. Slowly, steadily, Pacifica could feel herself becoming distracted. She had to focus. Her freedom was on the line. Still, as much of a nerd Wonderboy may be, able to tell the measurement of an item by glancing at it and solve impossible equations in his head in a second, he was actually a really nice guy. Getting tired of pretending, she decided to try a bit harder to find Dipper’s weakness so this whole thing could end.

Walking down some steps, Pacifica faked a trip at the last step. Dipper caught her swiftly and Pacifica winced. “Ugh, I think I stepped funny, landed on my ankle wrong.”

“Ouch,” Dipper sympathized. While he may have super god-like strength, that didn’t mean he never twisted an ankle or bent a wrist wrong, a small pain but no damage or hardly an injury. “Here, we can sit for a sec.” And he scooped her up gently and carried her to sit on the edge of a giant water fountain, the same water fountain Mabel was projecting herself into the heart of the small wall, eagerly hoping her twin would at least get a kiss.

“Oh. Thanks.” Pacifica was a bit taken back by his extra effort in manners, but quickly reminded herself that with strength like his picking up a girl was nothing. So she moved on with her plan. “So, do you have any issues with weak ankles?”

“Hm? Oh. No, not really.” Dipper chuckled.

Pacifica giggled alongside him and sat closer. “Really? No trick knee?” She asked slyly. “No bad shoulder?”

Dipper was blushing heavily, a bit uncomfortable with the praise and trying to remain humble as he gave an honest answer. “No, I’m… I’m pretty healthy…” And his smile dropped at remembering that the same couldn’t be said for Stan.

Pacifica rolled her eyes, ready to give up on her quest. Bill would just have to find some other way to kill him. She then noticed how down Dipper appeared, much more so than he had been all night, and before she realized what she was doing, she asked, “Hey, you okay?” Pacifica instantly bit her lip. Why did she say that? And why did she actually care?

Dipper looked at her with heavy eyes and sighed tiredly. “It’s Stan. He’s… He’s not well.”

Pacifica softened a little. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Dipper looked up at the stars to make it easier to talk. “It’s just… he… I dunno. I was raised in an orphanage until I was twelve and went looking for him. Stan’s looked after me ever since, and… and he feels like family. I’ve never had one, and… it sometimes feels like he’s all I got.” Dipper was being very careful not to talk about the fact that he had a family waiting for him, but after only talking to Mabel here and there for so long, having never met them in the flesh or been at home, it sometimes felt like Stan was truly the only one there for him.

Pacifica scoffed and stood up to make some distance. “Family isn’t that great.”

Dipper blinked and stood to follow her down the street. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno, people just make such a big deal over families or whatever.” Pacifica complained. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. They’re just a bunch of people who would turn their backs on you just as quickly as anyone else.”

Dipper was a bit taken back by the harshness of her tone, but he shook it off to try to comfort someone who was clearly hurt. “That’s not true. Some families, sure, maybe. But not all families are like that.”

Pacifica gave him a sharp look. “How would you know?”

Dipper was a bit hurt by that, but it only made him more determined to change her mind. He took her hand as they were at the doorstep of his home, and he said firmly, “My family might be really small, and kinda broken, but it’s still an amazing family. We look after each other. We care for one another. And… And you could be a part of that.” Dipper bit his lip. Why did he say that? And why did he actually mean it?

It was Pacifica’s turn to be dumbstruck. She shook her clear to try to clear it and said, “I gotta go. Goodnight, hero.” And she kissed his hand, let go, and hurried down the street.

Dipper’s mouth was open so wide a fly nearly threw in, but luckily he coughed it out before he accidentally swallowed it. He brought his lucky hand up shakingly to smile at it, swearing he would never use it for anything ever again. Okay, maybe for one thing.

Mabel, meanwhile, knew that Pacifica liked Dipper and hurried after her, ready to perform a musical number to convince her to admit it and follow her heart and say she was in love, but as Pacifica hurried into the outdoor museum full of art, Mabel felt a chill go down her spine. She stopped at a brick wall-art of the sun and hid herself behind a bush, remembering her grunkle’s orders to stay hidden, just in case.

A small pyramid glowed yellow and with a small poof the triangle with a black toga appeared, smiling (as much as one can without a mouth) at Pacifica. Mabel stared, a little confused; this must be Grunkle Ford’s friend, the one Uncle Fiddleford didn’t seem to like very much. Instantly she could understand why Uncle Fiddleford didn’t like him, but so far Bill hasn’t done anything to learn Mabel’s dislike, so she kept an open-mind and listened.

“Hey-o, Llama, so whatcha got?”

“Nothing.” Pacifica said coldly, her arms crossed.

“Nothing?” Bill repeated.

“Nothing. No weak spot, no bad nerves, no tricks. Nothing. He has no weaknesses.”

Bill growled in his throat, floating back and forth in a pacing kind of way, his black hands behind his back. “No! Everybody’s got a weakness! We just gotta find it!” The demon stopped as he looked at a statue of a couple in love. “Maybe… Ugh, if only Sixer wasn’t so overprotective of Shooting Star. We could use her as bait.”

Pacifica snorted. “Yeah, good luck getting your hands on her.”

“But maybe…” Bill held his… well, he doesn’t have a chin, but he did put a hand to the front of his body in that type of manner. “... there’s someone we can get our hands on.”

“What?” Pacifica asked, not seeming bored for the first time in this entire conversation. “You mean Stan? I guess… Dipper did say he was like family.”

Bill cackled. “Oh, if only he knew.” The triangle gasped and punched his hand with the side of his fist in thought. “Hey! We can use that! Great work, Blondie. Now c’mon, we got a whole galaxy to conquer!” And he swooped himself and Pacifica away in a burst of blue fire.

Mabel had both hands over her mouth to keep herself quiet. She had so many questions and was confused on a few things, but she did know this: Bill wanted to hurt Dipper. Bill wanted to take over the galaxy. And he was lying to Grunkle Ford.

Without another thought, Mabel dashed as fast as she could for home. She accidentally gave herself such bad tunnel vision out of fear and desperation that she didn’t hesitate until she was at the entrance of her shared temple with her great-uncle. The young lady peered his office to find him hunched over his work, finding it hard to concentrate with the fate of his brother on his mind. Mabel didn’t know much about Bill, despite being a fellow god, but she did know that Ford considered him a friend, so this would be difficult news to deliver.

Mabel gently knocked on the column beside her to alert her guardian of her entrance. He turned and smiled genuinely at her. “Mabel, I’m happy to see you’re home safe. How… How is Stanley?”

Mabel winced; she had completely forgotten to check on her long-distance uncle in the excitement of her brother’s date and the harsh discovery. “Grunkle Ford, I need to tell you something.”

Immediately Ford feared the worst. It was too late. He would never see Stan again, and it was all his fault. Mabel sat on the desk and took his six-fingered hands. He bit his lip and braced himself as Mabel looked down, trying to find her words. After a moment or two that nearly killed the immortal god, the young muse asked carefully, “Bill… Is he your friend?”

Ford felt the wind being kicked out of him from the shock. He could have cried, he was so relieved, but instead he laughed and nodded. “Yes! Yes, my dear, Bill is an old friend of mine. If it wasn’t for him, the world would still be in complete chaos. My leadership position, and really the existence of you and your brother, is all thanks to him. He helped me save the world.” He praised.

Mabel looked even more nervous; Ford had hoped that this answer would assure any worry she had, but clearly this wasn’t the case. Before the god could ask what was wrong, the muse said quietly, “I think he only helped you save it so he could have it someday.”

Ford blinked like a confused owl at her. “What… What are you talking about?”

“I… I think… no, I’m sure that…”

“STANFOOOOOOOOORD!”

Mabel and Ford turned to the direction of the call and ran for the exit of their temple. They watched Fiddleford use his super speed to dash to them, pale and stuttering with fear. “HONEY FOGELIN’, SALT-LICKIN’ SKULLDUGGERY! OH, WE’RE IN TROUBLE! OH!”

“Fiddleford, buddy, calm down.” Ford gripped him by the shoulders to give him a chance to breathe and adjust his small glasses. “What’s the matter?”

“We’ve got an army o’ monsters that are practically at our gates!” Fiddleford informed. “There’s only a few minutes until Olympus is overrun!”

“What?! Alert the other gods! Prepare for a counter attack! Go, go!”

“Gone, babe.” Fiddleford said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes and ran as fast as possible as he blew his trumpet loudly throughout Olympus.

“Mabel, sweetie, I want you to go keep an eye on your brother.”

“But…”

Ford whistled loudly and the giant goat, Gompers, came trotting toward. Ford lifted her like a child and ignored her kicking and squirming. “Grunkle Ford!”

“I’m not asking!” Ford growled and gave her a firm look. “I can’t lose you! I just can’t! Now I’m ordering you to go check on M-... on Dipper. Now go!” And he smacked Gompers to make him gallop off the mountain and down to the mortal world.

~~~~~~~~~~

Just a few minutes after Dipper arrived back home, thinking about his amazing date with Pacifica, he decided to check on Stan. After making sure he was nowhere else in the luxurious house, Dipper gently knocked on his teacher’s bedroom door. “Stan? You okay?”

Praying the old man was at least wearing a toga, he carefully opened the door, but was a little surprised to find the bed empty. After a quick look around the lavish bedroom, Dipper concluded that Stan wasn’t here. He closed the door and turned away, wondering if Stan had gone outside for some fresh air, but was suddenly greeted by a high-pitched laughter and the lit torches made of stone were now blue. Dipper looked all over and was startled to find a huge golden triangle with one eye staring at him.

“Hey there, kid, name’s Bill, big guy of the Underworld, nice to meet you.” Bill said, a smooth-fast talker like a chariot salesman.

“Uh, hi.” Dipper greeted with a small, hesitant wave. There was no way the Ruler of the Underworld, the most mysterious god of them all, would be paying him a visit unless it was important or he wanted something.

“So, listen, Pinetree,” Bill said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and floating alongside him, walking like they were old friends catching up. “I’m an old friend of your great-uncle, Stanford. He’s a fun guy, great god, you’re a lot like him, you know that? Anyway, so, as a friend of the family, I need a favor from you.”

Dipper wasn’t sure what to make of this. This was his first time meeting a god apart from Mabel, and now to be needed by one was a bit confusing. Why now? Was it possible he was on his way to becoming a true hero? Was he almost a god again? Was this a test? He smiled nervously and shrugged. “Uh, sure, what do you need?”

“Oh, boy, look at this guy! A real trooper he is! You’re alright, Sixer Jr!” Bill laughed and clapped his shoulder. “Now, I would be eternally grateful if you took a day off from this hero gig. I mean, c’mon, monsters, natural disasters…”

All hope that this visit was a good thing died. Dipper scowled and shook his head, shoving Bill’s hand off his shoulder. There was one reason and one reason only someone would want him to stop being a hero, even if it was only for a short time. “No way…”

“Not so fast,” Bill said coolly and he locked his own fingers cunningly. “Cuz I have something that might change your mind.” And he snapped his fingers.

Out of thin air an old man appeared in chains, on his knees. “Stan!” Dipper gasped.

“Dipper, what the h-...” And more chains covered his mouth.

Dipper ran for his teacher but Stan was gone before the young hero could help. “Let him go!” He dove for Bill, but only fell through him, like the demon was made of mist.

“Here’s the deal: you give up your strength for the next twenty-four hours,” And Bill snapped his fingers again and Stan reappeared, gagged and trapped. “And Knucklehead here is as free as a bird and safe, we dance, we kiss, we schmooze, we go home happy. Whatcha say, c’mon?”

Dipper stared at Stan, who was shaking his head. The young man looked away and then back at Bill. “People are gonna get hurt, aren’t they?”

“Nah,” Bill dragged, flicking his wrists downward and then instantly shrugging with his hands behind his back. “I mean, maybe, there’s a possibility, it happens cuz, y’know, life sucks. So what?” The triangle joined Stan and cupped his face teasingly. “Isn’t your great uncle more important than they are?”

Dipper opened his mouth to order him to stop, but his jaw fell and his voice was stolen from him. Bill smiled excitingly and asked, “Oo, struck a nerve, did I?” He laughed maliciously. “You seriously didn’t know he’s Sixer’s brother?! Oh, man! This is sad! Ever wondered why he had a grudge against Fordsie? Ever wondered why he even gave a worthless orphan the time of day to begin with? It’s cuz he only barely cared cuz you’re blood. Duh.”

“You’re lying.” Dipper said firmly. “Stan, he’s making it up, isn’t he?” He begged, his brown eyes on Stan, the same eyes that matched his own. “Because… you would have told me if it’s true… wouldn’t you?”

Stan looked away.

“Daw, don’t blame him, kid. It’s not his fault you didn’t inherit Mr. Lightning Bolt’s brains. Now, c’mon, you really wanna lose another pwecious famwy member?”

“OKAY!” Dipper yelled to get Bill to fall silent. There was a moment of pause and Stan stared at his nephew. “Okay… okay… But you gotta swear Stan won’t get hurt.”

“Fine, whatever. Stan won’t get hurt.” Bill said and walked towards the birthmarked hero, leaving Stan alone for a moment. “Otherwise you’ll get your strength right back, fine print, blah blah blah. It’s a deal?” And he held out a hand encased in blue fire.

Dipper hesitated, looking down at it, and that made Bill a little irritated, a dangerous game to play. Bill withdrew his hand. “Y’know I really don’t have time to bat this around, I got places to be, people to see, I need an answer, like, now. Going once, going twice…”

"It's a deal!" And Dipper ceased Bill's hand.

At once, the demon's thumb sharpened, cutting into Dipper's hand and seemed to be sucking the strength out of him. The young man sagged and Stan fought harder than ever to break free, but it was too late. Bill let Dipper go and he fell to his knees like a puppet with his strings cut off. One could say Dipper should have made sure he agreed to only give away his "god-like" strength, rather simply "strength," for this loophole left Dipper far weaker than any man, arguably weaker than an infant.

Bill cackled as he held his three-sided body and wiggled his legs in joy. "Thanks for the favor, Pinetree! Now if you'll excuse me, there's an entire cosmos out there with my name on it! Oh! Right, can't forget." Bill snapped his fingers and Stan was set free from his chains. "The guy ashamed to be your family is all yours, hero."

He instantly ran to Dipper's hunched-over body and rubbed his back. "Easy, buddy boy, I got you. It's okay."

Dipper swatted his hands away and groaned from the effort. "Stan… why… why didn't you say…"

Stan was hurt, but pushed it aside to focus on how hurt his nephew was. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I… I wanted to. Believe me, kid, I wanted to, but… I couldn't."

"Oh, and one more thing. Lil'Llama, thanks for the info." Bill sneered, curling a finger from the shadows to himself, and his slave emerged with her head down in shame. "A deal's a deal, you're free to go."

Dipper stared, heartbroken more so than ever. "Pacifica?"

"Hey, that's the blonde damsel from the river." Stan growled. "Tramp. C'mon, Dipper, let's get you to…"

"Don't." Dipper snapped as he steadily got to his own feet. "I… I can take care of myself…"

Stan withdrew his hand and took a step back, letting Dipper hold himself up by leaning on a column, catching his breath. The proud uncle bit his lip and was distracted from his misery and shame when a big bang could be heard outside.

He stood outside his home and his mouth was open as the sky was an unnatural sea of colors and the ocean was raging with waves that seemed to make everything it touched weird. Bushes were coming to life and eating ghosts. Old women were being turned into furniture. Men were going delusional and eating their togas. Stan cringed at the weirdness, and it only got worse when some big goblin-looking monster with Eight Ball eyes was bringing havoc to Thebes.

~~~~~~~~~~

The planets aligning created a weak spot in the dimension, and in the depths of the sea, Bill peered down and could practically see his old minions in the Nightmare Realm. “My friends!” He called, pointing a finger at the weak spot and tearing a whole in space-time. “We finally have a new home, boys! But one guy stands in our way. An obnoxious poindexter with six fingers. So, since I’ve given you guys a stable home, whatcha gonna do about it?”

“DESTROY HIM!”

“Good answer.”

And so, when Fiddleford was disturbed from his nightly slumber on a low cloud outside of Olympus, he screamed and ran as fast as he could to alter his friend and the leader of the gods. Huge monsters scaled the mountain. Flying eyeballs flew like bats and screeched, turning fighting gods into stone and flying them away.

With Mabel gone and no longer terrified for her safety, Ford stood on a tall cloud just inside the gates of his home and shot down bolts of lightning with his golden crossbow. The monsters were sturdy, and while the attacks did slow them down, the battle was not looking good for the gods. Ford caught his breath and was very disturbed when a giant gray-blue loaf of bread with arms and legs but no face broke down the gates.

“What’s our status?!” Ford asked his best friend.

“Everyone’s bein’ turned t’stone!” Fiddleford yelled as an eyebat shined a beam down at him. “Even me!”

“NO!” Ford threw his last bolt at the eyebat, but it swerved out of the way and scooped up Fiddleford’s frozen body.

Ford looked left and right, waiting for an idea to come to him, but he was too clouded with anxiety and worry that he failed to notice the huge, now three-dimensional demon behind him. “Fordsie, I’m home.” A shrill voice sang.

“Bill?” Ford breathed, his eyes narrowing in anger and he shook with rage. He should have listened to Mabel and knew he was behind this. He growled like an angry bulldog and tried to throw a punch, but with a lift of a finger Bill had total control over Ford’s body and made him float lifelessly in front of him.

“Well well, looks like you truly are as dumb as you look. Tell me, did you really think such a powerful being would ever be friends with a six-fingered monster?” Bill laughed evilly and moved two arms close, creating lava and ice to work together to encase Ford in a stony prison. “This dimension is mine, Sixer, and it’s all thanks to you.” He said as Ford climbed and crawled to try to escape, but was steadily being encased, like quicksand. “Now all I need to do is make sure those brats stay out of my way.”

“NO! NO!” Ford screamed. “NOT MY KIDS, YOU CA-...” And he was completely covered.

“I’m the one giving orders now, Freak.” Bill sneered and sat in his new throne the eyebats had made for him, made entirely out of gods and goddesses. “And I think I’m gonna like it here.”

#GF #gravity falls #gravity falls au #gift #fanfiction

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

the unseen one - 09

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: fluff

A/N: every time i check the notes they have increased and i’m about to collapse with excitement. thank you so so much guys, i hope you enjoy this chapter. feedback is always appreciated. enjoy xx

Next Chapter >>

The book had nothing of importance for James, it mostly spoke about how Persephone was the one to know about the groves, something he already knew. It had been her place of living, mostly where she would to stroll around with her husband, sometimes even more than strolling following some rumours he’d heard from Hecate. Truth was there was nothing he could do, not even Demeter could manage to bring what looked like a waste land into the glory he remembered. Zeus was still kept in the dark of the news, maybe he was god of the universe but James was Hades, God of the Underworld.

Weeks had gone by and he had been stuck between work and trying his best to revive the groves, even planting new plants along with the Hecate and her maidens. He hadn’t seen Y/N in weeks, only speaking with her either through call or text with the pretence he was on a business trip. He missed seeing her, seeing her face but his job was making him stay underground for a while.

Once again, he was in his office running around trying to get stuff done. For someone who didn’t decide a soul’s faith, he sure had a lot of stuff to get done. Hecate and Demeter had taken on the groves so he was trying to fill in some of Hecate’s workload such as leading the souls. He leaned against his chair, glass of ambrosia in his hand while the other pinched the bridge of his nose.

James did not know what to do and whenever he did not know what to do, he always did one thing, go into the artefact room. Gods were no longer allowed to carry artefacts after losing them time after time and Zeus thought there was no better place to hide them than in the land of the death. He found it soothing to look at everything but what he personally enjoyed more was Persephone’s ring. It wasn’t that the ring itself wasn’t something that would give someone eternal life or eternal beauty, it was just a token of love. It always reminded him that no matter how many years he lived, how many things could be removed from you, there was always love somehow.

The ring itself had a story that even him found heart melting, it had been made from the very first rose to grown in the groves. This rose had then been collected and bathed in pure gold thus creating a forever living flower, the same forever living flower Hades had gifted Persephone with when she became Queen of the Underworld. Now, Hades had gifted Persephone with countless jewels which could buy the whole mortal world, but James’ favourite was always the ring. Recently it had even grown more found to him due to the fact that it reminded him of Y/N and the roses she had on her window pane constantly.

- There you are! - Hecate walked into the artefact room, caring little for the fact she was not allowed to walk in. - I thought you’d gone to see your pesky little mortal.

- Excuse me? - he turned his head, colour draining from his face. Did Hecate knew of Y/N?

- I’m the goddess of witchcraft besides you have a sunflower on your desk. You’d either be screwing Demeter or seeing a gifting mortal. - she watched the god of the underworld become speechless for the first time. - Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’re seeing a mortal if that’s what you’re worried.

- I know how much you hate mortals but please can you keep that one away from your curses and hexes.

- Who do you think I am? I enjoy sleeping with mortals as much as the next god. Rather glad you’ve started to do it.

- I’m not sleeping with Y/N and can you please stop talking in such a lewd manner about her?

- Oh please, you’re not sleeping yet with her. The only reason gods talk with mortals is if they’re their kids or they want to sleep with them. I don’t blame them, humans don’t randomly turn into animals and they’re really good at the bedroom arts.

- I really don’t think my personal life is of any matter to you or to anyone in the underworld.

- Awe, don’t tell me you’ve grown found of the little mortal? - she crossed her arms, leaning against one of the walls of the room, that little annoying smirk that always made James want to fire her on the spot. Sadly, he did not have the power to kick gods of the underworld out of the underworld. Once he didn’t immediately start to argue about that, her once teasing smirk fell off as she returned to her regular stance. - Hades, you didn’t.

- It’s none of your business, Hecate and I really don’t owe you any explanation of what I do outside the underworld.

- A mortal, are you joking? Should I remind you of the goddesses who want to be in your favour? Like the literal goddess of love and beauty, Hebe, Hedone and you go and court a mortal? Are you just trying to piss off the whole Greek pantheon or are you that stupid?

- Once again, what I do with my life is none of your business.

- I just want you to remember who you are.

- I know who I am and if you knew who I was, you wouldn’t speak to me in such manner. - he pointed at her before walking right by her and out the artefact room. - Good evening, Hecate.

James was beyond annoyed as he left the underworld, not in the mood for more lectures from Hecate. Everything was becoming too much, the groves, the impeding marriage offers. He just couldn’t take it anymore and all he wanted to see was her, all he wanted to hear now was Y/N and her silly laugh. This is why he found himself knocking on her door like a crazy man.

Y/N had been sat in her coach, cashmere blanket wrapped around her as Parks and Recs played on the TV, a nice bowl of sweet and salty popcorn by her side. The sudden knock made her flinch, sending popcorn flying everywhere. She checked the clock, 3 AM. It couldn’t be Anne, she always used the fire escape which was indeed way more scary, but still never the door. She walked slowly to the door, opening the peep hole to see a very familiar face which made her unlock her door.

- Bucky? Are you okay? - what she wanted to ask was what he was doing there at 3 AM but she hadn’t seen him in a few weeks and all she wanted was to see him. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept for years.

- I’m sorry I just really need to see you. - he sighed. - I should’ve called.

- It’s alright, Buck. Come in. - she extended her hand to his, linking her pinky with his as she guided him into her living room which now looked like popcorn town. - Sorry for the popcorn on the ground, your knocking startled me.

- I didn’t mean to startle you, doll. I’m sorry. - he tightened his lips as she cleaned an area of the coach, patting it so he could sit. He sat by her side, leaning against her. - Just really needed to see your face.

- What happened? - she combed through his hair, extending the blanket so it could cover him too.

- Everything’s going to shit at work, doll. Sometimes I wish I could just quit, get a car and drive as far away as I could.

- Then quit, why do something that doesn’t make you happy?

- Wish it was that simple. I’m afraid I’m stuck to that job forever.

- Do you want me to make you some tea? It always calms me down.

- No, it’s fine. - he wrapped his arms around her, cuddling against her side. How he wished he could just steal her away, take her with him, make her Queen of the Underworld. - You are the most beautiful thing I have ever set my eyes on.

- Have you not looked at my roses? - she pointed at the beautiful flower display by her window. - Because I think that should earn the “most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen”.

- I don’t think so. - he kissed the side of her head. - You’re so beautiful, I would steal you away if I could.

- Sounds like a Hades complex you’re developing. - she giggled, making Bucky smile.

- If you only knew.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #winter soldier #white soldier #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #bucky x reader #bucky/reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #marvel AU #greek god!bucky #bucky AU #sebastian stan AU

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ofdragonsdeep · 3 years

Text

6: Avatar

The Warrior of Light has never been one to abide the sadness of a child.

(ShB early story spoilers, discussion of possession)

6: Avatar

The Light that suffused the sky above Il Mheg twinkled in eerie, mournful tones as Ar’telan walked across the lush grass. Were it not for that glass-sharp stillness, the sound of emptiness in a non-existant wind, it would almost be a paradise. A brook babbled to his right, water cascading down to the lake below, the buried grave of Voeburt. Faerie-made birds fluttered between flowers cast in giant form, their petals bending and swaying under the influence of glamer magics rather than the breeze. Hungry creatures, yet untouched by the threatening light, lingered in the meagre shadows that the cliffs cast. They looked at him, and the less the Light suffused them, the more they backed away.

At the edge of a little drop, too sharp to be a hill but too short to be a cliff, Minfilia sat, swinging her legs as she looked out over the lake with those eerie blue-ghost eyes. She yelped in surprise as Ar’telan sat down beside her, not having expected him and not having heard the soft clanking of his armour’s plates as she was lost in her thoughts.

“Oh! You startled me,” she said, then fell silent and went back to staring out at the lake. “Sorry. Thancred always says I should pay more attention.” Ar’telan repressed the flicker of irritation at the statement.

“Thancred says a lot of things,” he replied. He was disappointed with him, in a way - after all the troubles they had come through, here he was failing to keep his own shadows in check, and hurting an innocent child in the doing of it. But maybe he still couldn’t quite see her as innocent. Maybe he still desperately wished for Minfilia - his Minfilia, the daughter he had raised in the guilt-strewn wake of her real father’s death. Maybe a part of him saw this child as her killer, her suppressor, and not someone her own. “Are you well, Minfilia?” he asked. How dearly he wished she had her own name, not one given to her like an Ascian might carry a title down the years. Minfilia stared at her knees.

“Yes. Thankyou. I’m fine,” she replied, which was a bare-faced lie mumbled with very little conviction. Eulmore had beaten the life from her by trapping her in that stifling prison, perhaps, but even when free she had not truly been allowed to flourish.

“Can I see what you’ve been working on?” he asked her, and with a noise of surprise she drew the bag of ammunition out of her pockets and handed it over. Ar’telan had been given a passing lesson in the art of the Gunbreaker from Thancred, and from one he had met back on the Source, but it had seemed a far cry from the knight’s arts he himself used even if the goals were the same. Protection. Thancred had cast aside the mantles of both bard and rogue to take on this role, but he was not doing a particularly good job.

The carts were simple things, bullets with a hollow chamber specifically designed to trap and harness aether. It was not too dissimilar from the machinist’s trade, except there the user’s aether provided the forward momentum to a bullet of regular make. These fair shone with aether, none of it Thancred’s, not that he had much of it left after what Lahabrea had done. Maybe it reminded Thancred of his Minfilia. Maybe he should have stopped finding a difference.

“You’re good at this,” he remarked, and Minfilia blushed just a little at the compliment. Ar’telan thought that she had probably not had many, in her short little life.

“I-I’m doing my best,” she said, which was not exactly an agreement, but it would have to do for the moment.

“Does Thancred ever tell you that?” Ar’telan asked, and Minfilia’s gaze dropped straight back to her knees.

“Sometimes,” she said, voice quiet. “But he always seems annoyed with himself to have said it.” Ar’telan let out a sigh, shaking his head as he passed the bag back to her with a quiet clacking of metal.

“Thancred should know better than to let his demons haunt his charge,” he said. He hadn’t wanted to say it - aloud was not the word, given his condition, but he had meant to think it and instead projected it. Minfilia wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, with the strength of her inherited Echo. “I mean - I shouldn’t have to make excuses for him. In the short time we have known each other, you have proved strong and competent. You deserve to hear it said.” Minfilia made a quiet noise, which felt like shock to Ar’telan’s Echo, but was barely audible to his ears.

“I’m not much compared to her. The… The real Minfilia,” she said. Ar’telan shook his head.

“You are as real as she is,” he said. Minfilia made a muted noise of disagreement. “Do you know how it works? The Echo - the rebirth?”

“A little,” she said, which still made it more than Ar’telan knew, not that he was intending to tell her that. “There’s a part of me… inside of me. In my soul. It feels like it… it isn’t me.” She touched a hand gently to her chest, a pensive look in her eerie blue eyes. “It’s warm. It’s kind. It’s Minfilia.” Her face turned saddened then. “When Ran’jit told me about the other… the other Minfilias, she gets sad. So I know that she’s… she’s seen so many. Girls like me. Girls who… who aren’t her, but are her. But not enough of her to make a difference.” She put her hands back in her lap, one clasped over the other. “And when I… when I die, that part of me that isn’t me, it will leave, and it will find another girl like me. Another Minfilia. I don’t know… I don’t know if she wants to. But she has to, I think.” She looked up at Ar’telan then, as if seeking confirmation, and it made him wonder.

“We borrowed it,” he confessed. “The idea of… of Rebirth. The Ascians can come back in endless cycles unless their aether is trapped, destroyed. Thancred told you about them, yes?” Minfilia nodded. “I suppose it always made sense that we could do the same thing, but I don’t think that we… that we should. The idea of mortality - of parts of us circling between life and death, each life new and different, that is important, even though we are blessed with the Echo.” He looked over at her. “So the Ascians would take new bodies, and mold their flesh to look like them, if they wished it. It happened to Thancred.” Thancred would not want this tale told, and Ar’telan certainly did not intend to tell her all of it, but she deserved a part of it. “An Ascian took him, and forced his soul into the darkest recesses of his aether. Where she lives - Minfilia. Lahabrea put Thancred there, and took control of him instead. So when she does it - when Minfilia does it, she tries so hard, I think, not to be like him. Not to hurt people like Lahabrea hurt Thancred. But we don’t know enough.” He looked out, over the cliff, at the waters of the lake. Perfectly still in the absence of wind, save for the ripples of fish and Fuath occasionally coming close to breaching the surface. “So she sits there, in the back of your soul, but she can’t - can’t stop it from hurting you, even though she doesn’t want it to. But she does it because a part of her feels like she must.” Ar’telan wondered how much of it was Hydaelyn. Even before she had been stolen away on the eddies of Y’shtola’s Flow, Minfilia had been devoted to Hydaelyn more fervently than anyone Ar’telan knew. If Hydaelyn told her to do this - to continue, even though it hurt, even though it doomed the girls she took, she would have done it, and it would have eaten her up to know it. Duty was not easy. Hydaelyn was not a loving Mother.

“...Thancred… H-he never told me,” Minfilia said, her voice quiet. “He told me - told me about Minfilia. His Minfilia. A-and the Echo, and the Ascians. But he never told me…”

“He hates what it did to him. What Lahabrea did with his body,” Ar’telan said, and found it a miracle that he could say it without shuddering at the memories. “He is scared of it. What it made him - what it makes people. And he is so scared of losing more people.” Ar’telan reached out, cautious and gentle, and put a hand on top of Minfilia’s own. “But he is proud of you. He should say it, and I should not have to say it for him. But I know him very well, and I know that even though he’s hurting, he is proud.” Minfilia had stiffened at the initial touch, then untensed as he spoke. Ar’telan could see the mist of tears at the corners of her eyes.

“I just… wanted to be enough,” she said. “To live up to her - to Minfilia.” Ar’telan inclined his head.

“I know. You do,” he assured her. “Not that you should forgive Thancred for his coldness, or accept my words as substitute for his, but I wanted… I wanted you to know.” His gaze was drawn back to the castle at the centre of the lake, the beautiful wings of lace and light cascading out from the towers. “I am glad to have you as an ally, and a friend, just as I was glad to know Minfilia. But you are worth more than what you are standing next to her. You are your own person, too. She let you remain. Had to. So you should live - not for her, but for yourself.” Minfilia let out a little sob, raising her tiny hands to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes. Ar’telan was aware that if Urianger or Thancred found him sat out here with a crying child they would chew his ears off, and sans context he would certainly deserve it.

“Th-thank you,” she managed, her voice still quiet and small. “I… I’ll try. But it’s hard.”

“It is hard for everyone,” Ar’telan said, by way of consolation. “But I believe in you.” She offered him a tiny, near-imperceptible smile.

“Then I will believe, too,” she decided. “Um, could you… could you take these back to Thancred?” She held out the bag of cartridges once more, but Ar’telan shook his head.

“We will go together,” he disagreed. “Whenever you’re ready.” Minfilia gave him another smile - stronger, but still faint - and nodded her head.

“Alright. I would like that,” she agreed, and for once, her decision held conviction.

Ar’telan thought that was enough.

#In this house we make ourselves sad on the regular #ffxivwrite2021 #WoL would die for his tiny daughter that he only just found out he has confirmed #m!WoLxThancred #Honest #though you might have to squint significantly #Warrior of Light (solo story)#ff14

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whiteasy · 3 years

Note

👀

Reibert. modern setting. Muteness au

--------

The cafe had a lovely albeit minimalistic decor. The walls were painted a soft beige and large windows littered most of its surface, a breath-taking view of the sea displayed through the pristine glass. Small flower pots hung down its wooden frames and despite it looking quite alluring, Bertholdt loathed sitting by the windows. Despite it being thirteen degrees outside in May, it was a defiantly sunny day. So, the afternoon light filtered through the windowpanes and Bertholdt dreaded to think how it would reflect back on the screen of his computer or worse, on his own sketchpad. Yes, he needed light but not the kind that blinded him and made it difficult to distinguish the colors and the lines. His spot was perfect in that sense– it was adequately illuminated and didn’t make him sweat profusely in his warm sweater.

He'd leave rays of sunshine to the other customers who’d prefer to look through the window at the shimmering sea outside, while lost in their own reveries.

Driven by that fleeting thought, Bertholdt’s eyes were drawn to the figure sat by one of the large windows in the opposite side of the café. His felt mesmerized as he took in the brawny, young man— mid-twentie, probably— sat in one corner, nursing his own drink, his own eyes lowered to his hands clutching the ceramic mug. His face was set in an unreadable expression, as if he was in some otherworldly realm mortals weren’t privy to. Bertholdt was mostly dazzled by the way the soft afternoon lights reflected on his golden locks, that were perhaps a bit too long and in need of a proper haircut. Not the one that’d be too short but, just enough to keep those bangs from shielding his eyes and frame beautifully his chiseled face. And that man had a solid bone structure— a perfect square jaw in which Bertholdt could discern a faint two days stubble, prominent cheekbones but, ones that for some reason looked that most likely started to show after one has lost a lot of weight. An even more likely possibility from the way his thin sweater seemed to hang over his frame. Bertholdt was struck by an irrational glumness as he thought of all the reasons behind it. From his spot though, Bertholdt couldn’t for the life of him determine what color his eyes were. Given that the objectively handsome man was blond, Bertholdt tried to imagine him with blue eyes. The color of stormy sea or better, a steely blue.

However, those didn’t sit right with him. Perhaps he’d look even more intriguing with green eyes, such as his olive one or an emerald green? No, that wasn’t right either.

Amber eyes. That was perfect and just so right for his face. Bertholdt might’ve been hallucinating since he was sat really far from this stranger but, his breath hitched in his throat when he detected those golden flecks in his brown irises.

Handsome, anyone would’ve described him. Beautiful, is how Bertholdt would’ve corrected them.

Bertholdt was instantly entranced when he suddenly had a better look at the blonde's face, whose features were set into a hard expression, a deep crease settling between his thin eyebrows as they furrowed together in brief confusion before settling for annoyance. And oh God, this stranger looked abruptly pissed, at him, his steely gaze boring daggers into his being because Bertholdt Fucking Hoover was rudely staring slash ogling him for the last five minutes.

He had often reprimanded Zophia and Falco for that same behavior and perhaps he ought to take his own advice before he thought of lecturing the youth about what’s right and what’s not.

Bertholdt snapped his head around to his own laptop, cheeks ablaze at being caught. He was instantly overcome by the outrageous urge to look at the man, again, and he was grateful for the distraction of his desktop background displayed on his computer’s screen and his drink that had cooled to a decent, manageable temperature. Right, this was the perfect setting he needed to start working. That would be drawing anything except for a blond handsome stranger. As he set his mind to his goal, Bertholdt found it easy to get lost in his art, not lifting his gaze from his pad, save for the times he had to glance at his laptop for his references. Rico came back to check with him once or twice and he ended up order a stack of fluffy pancakes topped with more fruit and chocolate that he has ever had. And yes, he was aware he was overdoing it with consuming sugar but, he’s fine, he’s not a diabetic and he can take care of himself, thank you very much.

Bertholdt barely noticed the time going and before he knew it, it was already dark outside. Huh, he hadn’t had such a productive afternoon in so long. He had also made quite the progress in the comic he had been working on for the last two weeks so, Bertholdt felt it was time to call it a day and head home. He asked for the check and started gathering his things and arranging them meticulously inside his bag. He chanced a furtive glance to his surroundings for the second time that day, having been too embarrassed earlier to look anywhere but in his own direct field of vision after his mishap with the stranger. Bertholdt didn’t know what he really expected but, he was genuinely astonished when he felt his heart clench in disappointment the moment he realized the blond stranger has left. Hours ago, apparently, his table having been occupied by another couple seemingly for quite some time if the half-finished food on their table was any indication.

Bertholdt wondered if he had made a mistake. There was a high chance that this will be the last he will ever see of the handsome man and maybe, Bertholdt should’ve overcome his guilt and shame, by going over and talking to him. And maybe even get his number.

Bertholdt frowned at the last thought. Where did that even come from?

He shook his head as if that would clear his mind from any obtrusive, nonsensical thoughts about a certain golden-haired, objectively gorgeous man.

And OK, it was time to go sleep. But he needed to get out of here first.

#WIP meme #Reibert

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seawitchkaraoke · 4 years

Text

Sketch in Shadows

(ao3 link in the notes)

This whole idea was stupid. It was way too early, barely even afternoon, she should be in bed and instead, here she was, sitting at a too small desk on an uncomfortable chair, listening to this human guy talking about some other long dead human guy, who had apparently been really good at drawing sunflowers.

The whole thing had been Toby‘s idea – of course. She‘d suggested that going to university would help her learn about the modern world and at the same time continue the „figure out what you actually like and what your mom made you like“ thing Raysel and her had going on and August had agreed, because she was bored, and she didn‘t have anything else to do and hey it might be an adventure, except this time without the getting lost for a hundred years part. So she‘d looked up some classes that sounded interesting and snuck out way too early, letting Raysel sleep who had wisely refused the education plan.

She had been bored. Somehow, she was even more bored now; she‘d really thought that art history would include a little more art and a little less life stories of dead humans.

August leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for just a second, sighing. She could leave anytime, it‘s not like she‘d signed up for anything or like she was actually planning on getting a degree.

She opened her eyes again.

There was a cat on her desk.

She stared. The cat stared back.

August blinked. The cat did not. It also didn‘t disappear, which would have been convenient.

„Um.“ said August, intelligently „I kinda need that desk. You‘re sitting on my things“

The cat said nothing.

August sighed. „Fine. I wasn‘t taking notes anyway, but once the class is over you have to let me get my stuff“ She reached out, petting the cat behind the ears. It was very fluffy, with long grey and white fur, making it look almost silver. It was a beautiful cat.

August leaned back, her hand still buried in the cat‘s fur, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn‘t wait to get out of here, beautiful cat or not.

The air smelled of paper and dust and human sweat and the violets and dry hay of the Daoine Sidhe changeling in the second row and the peppermint and burning walnut wood of the Cait Sidhe in front of -

She yanked her hand back so fast, she almost overbalanced, as she stared at the not at all normal cat in front of her.

The cat blinked, slowly, deliberately. August did not. She stared.

„You‘re Cait Sidhe! What are you- never mind, I don‘t care what you‘re doing here, why are you on my things?“

The Cait Sidhe, still, did not say anything. Of course not. They couldn‘t exactly transform back into a form capable of the English language in the middle of a lecture hall after all. They just looked at her with big purple eyes.

Right. Mortal cats didn‘t have purple eyes. She really must be more tired than she‘d thought.

„Ugh fine! Just give me my stuff back once the class is over okay? And then I can go home and tell my sister this was a stupid idea and you can do, whatever it is Cait Sidhe do all day“

The cat, again, said nothing, just looked at her out of big purple eyes that really should have ticked her off earlier that this was not a mortal cat.

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

The cat‘s name, it turned out, was Zircon and they were part of the Court of Golden Cats (which was ironic considering how silver they were), though they mostly stayed at the university, helping out stressed students and making sure none of the faerie brides were stirring up trouble. They told August all this in the span of the few minutes it took to walk back to the carpark, where Quentin would hopefully be waiting with the car.

„That‘s all great but it doesn‘t explain why you were sitting on my things. I‘m not planning to ‚stir up trouble‘ as you said, I‘m just here because my stupid sister convinced me that university might be fun and not boring“

„Excuse me, you find me boring? And that, when I was trying so hard to entertain you, I don‘t know whether to be hurt or insulted“ they smirked, walking backwards, facing August „you might say you don‘t want to stir up any trouble, but I always check out the new fae on campus just to make sure. And you‘re not exactly just any random fae, August Torquill, you said your name was? I met your sister, though I doubt she realized, she was covered in quite a lot of blood at the time. More importantly I heard what your mother did to the king of dreaming cats to force your sister to bring you home. So I hope you can forgive me, if I need to make my own picture of whether you‘ll stir up trouble“

„Great so you‘ll judge me because of what my mother did? You just said yourself I wasn‘t there for that! I was the one who made her give Tybalt and Jazz back, but no one ever seems to remember that”

That was the wrong thing to say. Zircon hissed and was suddenly too close to her face, the smell of peppermint and burning walnut wood welling up all around them „you want a price for doing the bare minimum? For not being as horrible as your mother? Should I get you a medal?“

August paled, “No! I…. I’m sorry, I’m just really exhausted and tired of people looking at me and only seeing my mother”

Zircon stopped at that, stepping back, slightly „Okay. I won‘t judge you by your mother‘s actions but I know how dangerous your family is, I‘m not so stupid to think you wouldn‘t be as well.“ They looked at August, smiling, showing their far too sharp teeth „you‘re welcome to continue classes here if you decide it isn‘t too boring after all. But this university is mine as much as it is anyone‘s and if I think that you are going to cause anyone here harm either by yourself or by bringing your cursed mother down on us, I will not hesitate to rip you apart. I‘ve heard how fast your sister heals, so I‘m sure I wouldn‘t need to worry about breaking Oberon‘s law“

They stepped back and grinned, teeth having lost their inhuman sharpness and said, almost joyfully „If you‘re interested in art but not the ‚boring‘ stories about dead human artists, you might want to check out some of the more practical classes, I‘m sure you‘d enjoy them“

With that, they sauntered around a corner and a moment later a long haired silver cat with bright purple eyes ran off over the yard.

Well. That could have gone better.

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August dropped in the passenger‘s seat of the car, groaning. She just wanted to go home and sleep some more and not deal with any stupid cats anymore.

Quentin shot her a sidelong look, as he drew out of the parking spot „So who was that person you were talking to? Cait Sidhe?“

„Their name is Zircon and yeah they‘re Cait Sidhe. They don‘t like me on account of my mother being the worst, they threatened me in case I was planning to start trouble for ‚their‘ university and they told me to try practical drawing classes since art history was boring“

Quentin blinked. That seemed to be the motto of today. „Huh. Well, I can‘t say I can fault them for disliking your mother-“ „Who could“, August muttered, „-but practical drawing classes might be a good idea if art history was too theoretical?“

„ Less theoretical, more just talking about the life and death of some human artist who was really good at sunflowers or whatever“

„Van Gogh?“

„Yes him. And I‘m sure that‘s interesting for the humans, but I wanted to hear about history of art, not history of dead artists“, she sighed, sinking deeper into the car seat „This whole thing was a stupid idea, I can learn about art by practicing, I don‘t need classes, especially not at a university with a cat who hates me“

Quentin looked at her for a second, then turned back to the road, „You know Toby used to be convinced Tybalt hated her. It was all she ever talked about“, he smirked, „so… you know how that ended“

„I‘m not Toby, I‘m not going to fuck a cat!“, Quentin shot her a look, “sorry, sorry I know I shouldn’t say it like that but still. I’m not gonna have sex with the first person I meet who isn’t related to me or a teenager, Cait Sidhe or not”

Privately, she thought she really didn‘t think she wanted to have sex with anyone, cat or no, but that wasn‘t something to discuss with her sister‘s teenaged squire

„and anyway, I‘m not going to see them again, I‘m not going back“

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Two weeks later, August was once again standing in Berkeley, this time with art supplies slung over her shoulder and at a more reasonable hour – thank Oberon for evening classes. She hadn’t wanted to come back, but while going shopping with Raysel and occasionally May was fun and drawing on the giant chalkboard in Raysel and her shared room was enjoyable and occasionally incredibly cathartic, she’d been hanging around Raysel for months now and as much as she was learning to love her cousin, occasionally she needed some time away from her and away from the house that had a far too high average number of screaming teenagers in residence than August was entirely comfortable with.

So here she was, stepping out of Walther’s office, that Chelsea had opened a portal to – after calling first, to make sure Jack or some other mortal grad student wasn’t in – waving goodbye to the alchemist, who was working on some project or other in between his classes, and walking over to the art building.

She had barely set her things down, and there they were, a silver cat, with ridiculously fluffy fur and clearly unnatural purple eyes. August wondered briefly if any of the veterinary or biology students had ever tried to catch and study them; it should really be obvious to them that those eyes weren’t mortal. Then again, humans could dismiss a lot of things and would probably not jump straight from “cat with purple eyes” to “fae are real and walk among us”. Still it seemed irresponsible.

Irresponsible or not, they were strolling in casually, looping around students’ legs who cooed and occasionally bent down to pet them. August smoothed out her face, it wouldn’t do to be caught glowering at the campus cat, that would just make her stand out and not in a good way.

She shrugged out of her denim jacket – full of patches and glued on rhinestones and metal studs, because it turned out she liked being able to customize her own clothing however she wished – and sat in her chair. The teacher called the room to silence: “Welcome everyone! I’m sure Zaddy here is very happy to have your attention but I’ll need you to focus on me now. My name is Professor Smith and today we’re gonna learn how to draw a still life – though when we get to animals, you’ll be free to focus on Zaddy all lesson long….”

She kept talking, explaining the concept of a still life – apparently a drawing of unmoving inanimate objects – and setting down various things for them to use as models. August did her best to ignore Zircon – who had stalked over to her and was now sitting on a nearby shelf full of art supplies, yawning and showing off all their teeth – and listened intently to the teacher, already thinking on which of the objects she would like to draw most. There was a vase of flowers, though thankfully no roses, making the decision easy enough.

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After the lesson ended, August packed up her half finished drawing and walked outside. Zircon had left at some point during the lesson, but she didn’t worry about them, if they wanted to talk, they’d find her before she called Chelsea and left, if not, all the better for her. She did not want to talk to the cat. If they had decided to leave her alone, that was exactly what she wanted anyway.

No such luck. She turned the corner and there they were, leaning against a wall, human disguise firmly in place. Their eyes were a dark blue in this form, their fluffy hair, that would surely be striped silver, grey and white in their true from, simply black. They looked good, of course, it would be silly to choose a human disguise that made them look bad, and yet August suddenly really wanted to know what they looked like in truth.

She pushed the thought away just as Zircon pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her

“I can’t say, it isn’t a delight to see you again, but I thought you’d said you found this place “boring” and didn’t wish to return?”

“Yes, and I thought you might not bother me with a speech today, but I guess we’re all mistaken sometimes. Also, you can drop the pretentious speech, if you’ve been living at this university for as long as you implied, there’s no way you speak like that”

Zircon laughed at that, “Ah but it’s that or speak in memes, which might at best confuse and at worst horrify you. I would have thought you’d prefer this sort of speech, after all as far as I know, you haven’t been living in the mortal world much?”

“Right because you’d know how much exposure to the mortal world I’ve had. I live with an average of 2 to 4 teenagers, I pick things up. Anyway, what do you want? I already told you I’m not here to make trouble.” August inwardly prepared herself for another round of threats. Maybe she should just find another university to attend; true Berkeley was neutral territory and therefore convenient but surely she could figure something out.

Zircon shock their head: “I know, and I already warned you what would happen if you changed your mind on that. As far as I’m concerned we’re good; no, I am here to tell you the same thing I tell every fae student here and to ask you a question that’s just for you”

August frowned “okay? And what would that be?”

“First, I’ve been taking care of this university for a long time. I protect and help the students, both mortal and not and in return no one minds when I steal some snacks from the cafeteria or curl up in someone’s office. That means if you’re planning to attend regularly, I’ll be happy to help you too. You’re unlikely to need this, but if you ever need a place to sleep or a warm meal, just find me and I’ll help you. If you need advice on what classes to take or where the best spots are to get someone to teleport you out of here, if you want somewhere closer to the art building than Professor Davies’ office, I’ll be happy to give suggestions.”

“And you offer this to everyone?”

“Yes, although obviously I can’t just say it to the humans. With them I have to be a little more subtle, but I help them all the same”

“I’m sorry but aren’t Cait Sidhe supposed to, I don’t know, keep to the court of cats and run around chasing rats all day or something? Tybalt is going to have to give up being king when he marries Toby, because it’s a conflict of interest, how is taking care of an entire university not a conflict of interest?”, she stopped herself, “um, no offense or anything.”

Zircon laughed lightly: “ah, see Tybalt is a king and I am just a normal Cait Sidhe who finds that “chasing after rats” all day gets old quickly”

August reddened in embarrassment “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry, I’m still…. I’m still unlearning a lot of the things my mom taught me”, this was getting uncomfortable, “um, but you said you had a question?”

“Yes!”, Zircon grinned, “would you like to go for coffee?”

Wait what?

“Excuse me?!”

“I asked if you would like to go for coffee. Or tea if you prefer, of course.”

“Caffeine doesn’t work on me, so I would prefer tea actually, or hot chocolate, but that’s not the point- are you asking me on a date?! Last time we talked you threatened to rip me apart!”

“True and you came back here anyway and didn’t try to hurt me or set your mother or your sister on me. You’re the daughter of a firstborn but you attend art classes at a human university and wear a denim jacket with patches and stuts and glitter and you haven’t called me a beast or vermin even once. You’re intriguing and I’d like to get to know you better. Call it a date, if you like, or a call it just a friendly chat between acquaintances”, they smiled, this time almost softly and August knew she would say yes, “or call it nothing at all and decide afterwards what it was. Now I ask again, though slightly amended: Would you like to grab a hot chocolate?”

The night had barely started, and Chelsea wouldn’t mind picking her up later – it wasn’t like it would take her much time after all. And Toby always said she should meet more people.

“Yes” August said, a smile of her own forming on her face, “I think I’d like that. Just one condition”

“And what’s that?”

“We go somewhere run by fae if there is such a place around here. If were gonna get to know each other better, I want to see your actual face”

Zircon smiled.

#october daye #august torquill #fanfiction #nonbinary character #asexual character #yeah i'm a fanfic writer now i guess #lmao two days ago i was still like 'nooo i don't write'#anyway meet Zircon! they're my oc and i love them very much #please let me know what you think?

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