#The Grand Master came down from the Mountain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fallingdownhell · 1 year

Note

I absolutely love your works!

Can you make hurt/comfort with kazuha, albedo, alhaitham, cyno?

Where we're on a heated arguments about them too focusing on their job and completely forgot about reader

In the middle of the argument, the reader said

"Was i really nothing to you? Was i just some kind of object that you can just forget that easily?"

Thank you

Thank you so much!<3

And of course I can! I am always down to write some pretty, delicious angst!

Characters Included: Albedo; Cyno; Alhaitham; Kazuha

Content: Gender neutral reader; pre sumeru archon quest for Cyno's part; hurt/comfort; arguments; shouting; slight cursing;

Word count: 6k words

Thanks so much for the request. Hope you enjoy the end result!<3

Albedo

It was rare for Albedo to come down from his lab all the way up in Dragonspine to the City of Mondstadt. You never really minded it, knowing that you could go there to see him at any time, while he also paid regular visits to your home.

Yet, for some time now.. those visits have stopped. He never came by anymore, far too consumed on some discovery he apparently made a few weeks ago.

Even when you travelled all the way to his laboratory on the mountain, in the icy colds of Dragonspine, Albedo had given you no attention whatsoever.

He had acknowledged your arrival, then went back to his work, while you were sitting in some corner by the fire, trying to warm up again. Even your attempts at conversation were flat out ignored, seeing as he never bothered to give an answer. You weren't even sure if he had noticed your departure a few hours after you had initially arrived.

You tried again two more times, but as you got the same result every time, you eventually stopped trying and didn't go back to Dragonspine.

Then, two weeks ago, you heard that Albedo was back in the city for a supply run.

Hoping that you would run into him to finally talk to him you spend your day in Mondstadt, but you never laid eyes upon him. When you asked Sucrose about it, she told you that he had already left again.

You went home to see if he made a trip there and you just so happened to miss him. But upon your return, you didn't find any note from him or any other indication that he had ever been here in the first place.

The same thing happened again a week after that, and by now you finally had enough. You went to the Acting Grand Master and she told you that Albedo would be back today again, to drop of some reports.

Which is why you were waiting for him outside of the Knights of Favonius headquarters, though still in some respectable distance.

When you finally saw him again after a few weeks, it felt like you haven't seen him for a lifetime.

So, without hesitation, you made your way over to him before he could enter the building. Yet, he seemed to be so deep into his own head that Albedo didn't even notice your approach.

Only when you were directly behind him and firmly said "Albedo.", did he stop and turn around, looking at you.

You could see the expression in his eyes once his gaze landed on you, like he had a sudden realization that you still existed and he had forgotten about that until that very moment. It honestly hurt.

"Hey. Where have you been all this time? I missed you..", you said, hoping to get some kind of positive reaction out of him.

"You know where I was, (name). I was busy.", he said and then turned around to leave again. You were honestly astounded that he simply wanted to let things stand as they are. Well, not today and most definitely not with you.

"You wanna leave? Just like that? Seriously?"

That seemed to have at least some kind of effect on him, as he stopped once again and turned in your direction. Except for this time, he wore an annoyed expression.

"What else do you want from me? I said that I'm busy."

After that, an argument broke out between the two of you in the middle of the street, but neither of you cared. No matter how much attention you drew upon you, it was too late now. You were both to heated and too caught up in it to stop now.

Things were said in the heat of the argument, you were sure both of you regretted ever saying out loud, yet neither of you could care less right now. Everything seemed to be fair game at this point.

Until Albedo said one specific thing.

"Archons, you're impossible sometimes, (name). Insufferable. I've better things to do right now, you know!"

Immediatly after he said that, Albedo knew he had crossed a line. The way you went silent, no comeback falling from your lips. You were just staring at him in shock, like you couldn't believe that he had just actually said that. He wanted to retract his statement, but his pride prevented him from doing so.

So, instead, you both just stood there for some time, silently staring at one another. When no reply came from you, Albedo dropped his head, then turned around once again. But before he could take a step, he heard your voice again, though this time, it sounded broken, silent sobs being held back.

"So, that's it? Was I nothing to you?", you whispered, your voice slowly starting to break from the tears forming within you, but Albedo was still able to hear you. "Just some kind of experiment or plaything that you can toss aside and simply forget about? Do I mean nothing to you?"

Upon hearing how broken you sounded, and what you actually said to him, he instantly turned around again, the sight of tears rolling down your face feeling like a knive had been thrust straight into his heart. And what's worst was that he was the cause for your tears.

You stood there, waiting for an answer from him. Yet, when nothing seemed to come out off his opening and closing mouth, you just nodded at him.

"I see..", you said, your voice now entirely void of any emotion whatsoever. That, and the fact that you were the one now turning around to leave him like that, was the twist of the imaginary knive in his chest.

Finally being able to break free of his frozen state, he rushed towards you, stopping you in your tracks as he pulled you into his chest, caging your arms around you, burying his face against your shoulder.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. I'm sorry..", he whispered over and over into your ear, which only made the tears fall from your eyes even harder. You were shaking against him, struggling to breath. You wanted to break free from him, but at the same time, you never wanted to leave his embrace again.

"I'm so sorry, (name). You're wrong. You mean everything to me. I'm sorry I made you feel like that wasn't the case. And I apologize for the horrible things I said to you."

You stood there for a few more seconds, basking in his arms, then decided to slip free. Albedo let you, almost certain that you would be walking away from him now.

But you didn't.

Instead, you turned around to look at him, allowing him to see your tear stained face that he was the cause of.

"I think... we have a lot to talk about..", you mumbled, not being able to look him in the eyes entirely. But Albedo still saw it as what it was supposed to be.

A chance. A second chance to talk things out with you, make it better between you two.

And he gladly took that chance.

From now on, he would do anything to put a smile on your face every day, never wanting to be the cause for your tears ever again.

Cyno

Two months.

That was how long it has been since you had your boyfriend to yourself for more than a few hours.

Every day, he came back from his work much more later than he usually would, sometimes even not coming home for days on end. He didn't even leave a note or something to inform you of his absence, making you even more worried about him.

And now, even when he was at home with you, he was so cold and distant towards you. Sometimes, he went straight to take a shower and then to bed, not even sparing you a second. Other times, he did spend time with you, but you could tell that his mind was somewhere else, giving only short answers to your questions and statements.

Seeing all this, you couldn't help the doubt starting to well up inside you.

Did he fall out of love with you?

Did you do something wrong? Was he mad at you?

Was he... cheating on you?

You didn't want to think any of these possibilities true, but it was hard to ignore them when Cyno was behaving like this.

You tried to talk to him about this, how you felt, a few times, but he never really listened to you, keeping the conversation short so you couldn't bring your point across.

And now, you began to not only doubt him and the relationship as a whole, you doubted everything.

Did he ever even love you?

Was he only doing this out of convenience?

Were you just.. something expandable to him?

All of these questions and doubts plagued your mind day in and day out, not being able to find any answers to them whatsoever. The only one being able to give you the answers you so desperately wanted and needed, refused to give them to you.

It was driving you insane.

And now, you hit your breaking point. You weren't able to take it anymore. The constant doubt had turned itself into a depressive episode. You wanted to break free from it, but you also wanted to give Cyno one final chance. One chance to explain himself to you, to tell you the truth.

If he refused again, you would not hesitate to leave. Your mind was made up, everything was arranged. You had a small bag prepared, filled with clothing and other stuff you needed.

Tighnari had offered you to stay for a few days at Gandharva Ville where you could sort yourself out if you were not able to talk things through with Cyno. You were so grateful to him, though a small part in you still hoped that it wouldn't come down to this.

That evening, you waited and waited for Cyno to return home from work, but with every passing hour that he didn't show up, you lost more and more hope that he would come home at all today.

You sighed and were about to get up from your spot in the living room to go to bed, when the sound of the front door opening caught your attention. After all, it could only be one person that has the other key to the apartement.

"Welcome back!", you greeted him as you went out to the hallway, seeing your boyfriend standing there. He looked at you with a tired expression but didn't say anything in return.

Instead, he walked right past you, not sparing you another glance. You were baffled, to say the least. That blatant ignorance from him was what gave you the last push you had needed.

"Seriously?", you just said, turning around to face him again, this time though, wearing a stone cold expression.

"(Name), please. Not right now. I'm tired in case you didn't notice."

"Oh, I did notice. But I don't care anymore, Cyno. We have to talk."

"Please, (name). We can talk tomorrow, okay? I just want to go to bed now, not argue about something trivial."

Oh, he really dealt the final blow with that one.

"So, that's it? Do I even mean nothing to you? Was I just some kind of object you can forget about? Does this relationship even mean anything to you anymore?", you threw all of that towards him, not caring that you got more and more worked up with every word you said.

When you were met with nothing but silence from him, you took that as his answer to your questions.

"Okay..", was all you said, turning around and grabbing your packed bag before you went out the door, not even sparing Cyno one last glance. You just wanted to get out of there.

Cyno just stood there for a few minutes, still looking at the spot were you were standing before. Only now did the events catch up to his tired mind, yet he still didn't move.

He saw the defeated look on your face, the way your shoulders slumped at his dismissiveness, but he shrugged it off. Instead of running after you and trying to mend this misunderstanding, he went to the bathroom, took a shower and then made himself comfortable in the bed.

He was sure you would have returned by tomorrow and then you could talk about it.

....

Two days.

Two days have gone by and you still hadn't returned home. By this point, Cyno was beyond worried about you. After all, it was dark when you went out and he hasn't heard from you since then and no one in the city seemed to have seen you, either.

Thinking back to your last words towards him made him want to beat his past self up for not sitting down and talking to you then and there. For not running after you and bringing you back. Back to him where you belonged to.

He knew that he was neglecting you these past two months. It's not like he wanted to do so. Work has been increasing for him, the sages at the Academiya were up to something, and not of the good kind.

It put a lot of pressure on him, yet at the same time, he had to try and keep a low profile, for his sake as well as yours. But in doing so, he didn't even notice how much he had distanced himself from you. He really wanted to punch himself in the face for that, but it's not like that would bring you back to him, so he refrained from it.

He had been searching for you almost the entire day when you hadn't returned yet again. But his search seemed to not be granted success today either.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to head over to Gandharva Ville. Maybe Tighnari would be willing to listen to him and maybe have a suggestion on how he could find you and apologize to you.

Once he arrived, he immediately made his way over to his friends hut, not caring for all the looks other people gave him. He was used to it at this point anyways.

As expected, he found Tighnari sitting at his table, scrunched over some research report. Upon his entry, his ear twitched and he looked at his friend. Cyno did find it odd however, that his friend looked at him with such a surprised expression. After all, it wasn't unusual for him to arrive unannounced.

"Cyno? What are you doing here?"

"What, can't visit a friend anymore?", he said jokingly, though it didn't sound convincing at all, judging by the look on Tighnari's face.

"You're right..", Cyno sighed instead, grabbing an empty chair and sitting beside his friend. "I need your help. It's about (name).."

"Oh, that situation? Yeah, I've heard about it from them already."

"You did? From who? And when?", Cyno asked, suddenly gaining new hope. If you were here, he might still have a chance at finding you.

"From them. I offered them a place to stay for a few days. Though after everything they told me, I didn't think you would actually search for them."

So you were here... and his best friend knew about the situation and was severly judging him. Cyno knew he deserved it, but he still wanted to try and make things right again.

"Tighnari, please tell me where they are. I need to talk to them. Please."

Tighnari looked at him long and hard, most likely trying to assess his intentions.

With a sigh, he then turned back around, focusing his attention back to his research. "I gave them the open cottage on the other side of the village. They should be in there, seeing as they haven't left it since they arrived here."

"Thanks.", Cyno mumbled, scrambling to get up from the chair to rush to where you are. He was almost out the door, when Tighnari's voice caught his attention again, calling his name.

Cyno turned around, facing his friend again. "Don't fuck it up again.", he advised, to which Cyno nodded his head. He wouldn't, he would make sure of that.

When he arrived at your temporary residence, he immediately went to knock on the door. He waited outside for a few seconds, but no reply.

So he knocked again, more urgent this time.

Still no reply.

"(Name)!", he exclaimed this time, knocking on your door again, but still to no avail.

Getting desperate, he decided to just try and see if the door was unlocked or not.

It was. The door slid open soundlessly, inviting him inside. Carefully, he walked inside, letting his eyes take in the interior. Since the door and most of the windows have been shut, it was almost dark in here, and to top it off, he didn't hear a sound.

He was almost panicing again, thinking that you might have actually left this place, until his eyes fell on the bed, and on it, he saw your sleeping figure.

Relief flooded over him, finally being able to see you again and to actually have the knowledge that you were safe and sound.

He then walked closer to you, only to take in your state. You may have looked peaceful sleeping like this, but your eyes were red and swollen, telling him that you had cried before falling asleep. And he knew that the reason for your sadness had been him.

The need to punch himself rose again, for making you feel this way when he had promised to do everything in his power to never do that.

Instead, he decided to crouch down on the floor, next to the bed, gently taking your hand into his, placing a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

He would wait here until you woke up again, no matter how many hours from now that would be. He would wait for you and ask you to please consider talking to him.

He wanted to properly explain himself and apologize to you. Whatever you decided on doing afterwards, he would comply by it. If you wanted to break up with him, he would understand that. If you decided to give him a second chance, he would thank you on his hands and knees.

But that decision would be yours to make and he was prepared to accept whatever would be thrown his way. But for now, he was content with simply holding your hand, quietly enjoying your presence which he had missed so much...

Alhaitham

The Scribe of the Academiya has been getting more and more busy these days. Well, for now, it's best to say "former" Scribe, since he has been temporarely promoted to Acting Grand Sage.

You knew that your boyfriend had absolutely zero intention of keeping that position, even if he was more than befitting for it, seeing how knowledgeable he was.

But he much rather prefered a simple life, and you couldn't argue with that logic. Who wouldn't like that, especially when pay and work hours weren't really affected either way.

Still, for now, both you and him had to live with the changed circumstances, even though neither of you were happy with them.

Alhaitham was working even more now, trying to sort out certain matters until a new Grand Sage has been chosen. You haven't really seen or talked to him in days, yet you brushed it off, telling yourself that it would change again once he got his old position back again.

Sure, he may have cancelled a few dates and had to call off a get together with your parents, but that was perfectly understandable.

You continued to give yourself excuse after excuse, hoping that soon enough, things would get back to the way they were before all of this had happened.

Couldn't take too long...right?

...

Three hours..

You had waited for him, at Puspa Café, where you were supposed to meet for your first ever date in ages again.

And he didn't show up... Again.

You wanted to give Alhaitham the benefit of the doubt, but it was getting increasingly more difficult for you.

When you got to the home you shared with him, you were greeted by an eerie silence, telling you, that he wasn't even home to begin with.

Probably still at the Academiya, working.

You sigh, adding yet another dissapointment to the list, as you went into the bathroom to get changed into more comfortable clothes. To think that you dressed up for the occaison, only to experience heartbreak again.

It's really starting to get difficult for you to forgive him for all this stuff.

....

Yet another date cancelled by him, thanks to not showing up... Again..

But this time, he didn't even come home in the evening.

It had you worried about him beyond anything, not knowing what was going on since he always came back.

You didn't sleep that night at all, only for him to angrily walk through the front door at three in the morning, mumbling something about the incompetence of the people he was forced to work with.

He only spared a glance in your direction before he went straight into the bedroom. By the time you got in there as well, he was already fast asleep in the bed. And when you woke up in the morning, he was already gone, not even leaving you with a note or anything like he usually would.

Somehow, this was your last straw.

You endured the exact same scenario so many times before. Yet, somehow, this time was just one too many times.

Next time, you promised yourself, next time you see him, you would talk to him about it, no matter if he wanted or not. Because if you didn't then there was no reason in your eyes to continue this dying relationship.

....

Turns out, the next time you would see him would once again be in the dead of the night, thanks to Alhaitham not coming home again any earlier.

When he walked through the door, he was surprised to see you still awake. Normally, you would already be asleep and he would just silently slip under the covers next to you, enjoying what little he was able to get from being close to you again gave him, before he was also knocked out cold.

But with you standing there in front of him, expression cold and hard, he knew something was up with you. And yet, he just didn't have the energy to deal with that right now. He just wanted to sleep.

"We need to talk, Alhaitham."

No greeting, no nicknames, no nothing. You were definitely upset, yet he still tried to get out off talking right now.

"Can we do this tomorrow, (name)? I'm tired."

"You mean like all the other times you promised me something and then stood me up? No, I think not. We talk about this now."

Oh, so that's what got you so upset?

"Look, I told you I would be busy for some time until things at the Academiya get sorted out. You can't tell me you didn't know about this.", he tried to reason with you, but it only seemed to upset you even more.

"You did say that.. but it's been weeks since I've last actually talked to you. It feels more like I'm your housekeeper right now, not your partner."

"This is absurd. Now you're just thinking too much into things, (name)."

After that statement, an argument broke out between you two, right here in the hallway where you "greeted" Alhaitham. You weren't full on shouting at each other, but you were talking pretty loudly. If people were to walk by outside, they could probably hear every word you guys were throwing at each other.

But neither of you cared right now.

At some point, Alhaitham walked past you, into the living room, trying to escape the argument. But you insisted on continuing it, following him into the room and at this point, he was getting fed up with the situation.

"Archons, (name)! Can you just shut up and leave me be? I don't have time for trivial things right now!"

Immediately after he said that, you went silent and his words caught up with him as well.

He looked at you, saw how tears started to form in your eyes and instantly regretted ever letting those words fall out of his mouth. Nothing was more important than you in his eyes, and yet, he still said that to you. Like you didn't mean the world to him, which you did.

"(Name)-!"

"So, what? Was i really nothing to you? Was i just some kind of object that you can just forget about that easily? To toss aside when you don't want it anymore?"

You hated how your voice cracked halfway through, how tears started to escape your eyes. And despite how much his words had hurt you, you still didn't want to run from the situation. You had to see it through.

"If that is how you truly feel about me, maybe we should end-!"

Before you were able to end your sentence, you were suddenly pushed against a strong chest, warm arms keeping you in an embrace you had longed so much for, yet right now, it wasn't comforting at all.

"Let go off me..", you stated weakly, giving no indication that you planned to reciprocate his sign of affection.

"Never..", he whispered, and with the way he sounded right now, you could almost think that he was starting to cry as well. Almost..

"I'm so sorry, (name). I truly didn't mean to say that. Please, you have to believe me, I don't mean it. You are not trivial to me, nor is our relationship.

I.. I love you. I truly do. Though I don't openly say it that often, that doesn't mean my words hold any less truth in them. You have to believe me."

"I want to... I really want to believe you, Alhaitham. But with the way things are and have been for those weeks... I don't think I can.."

By now, the tears are streaming freely from your face and you weakly put your hands against his chest, needing some kind of stability.

"Then let me prove it to you. Let me prove to you that I still love you like the first day, that I never stopped loving you, even if my words and actions made you think otherwise."

You were silent after that for some time, thinking it over. You had no idea what the best course of action for you would be, but in the end, you decided to go with what your heart was telling you. Wether or not you would regret that decision, you had to find that out in the future.

"...One more chance. You better don't fuck up again or I'm leaving for good.", you mumbled against his chest, his shirt already stained with your tears, but neither you nor Alhaitham cared about that in the slightest.

All he could focus on, was you in his arms and the fact you granted him with another chance. And he intended to use it the best he could.

Kazuha

Between travelling around the different nations and helping out Beidou on board of the Alchor from time to time, Kazuha never really had much time.

You love Kazuha. You really do...

But sometimes, you just can't help but wonder if you even have a relationship with him at this point.

When he's gone again, for weeks or sometimes even months on end, and the only form of communication with him stems from a few letters sprinkled in between here and there, how could you not doubt?

In the beginning, you used to travel around with him. And while you enjoyed the time spent with your boyfriend, getting to see all those different places and creating wonderful memories with him, you eventually grew tired of it.

That's not to say that you didn't enjoy wandering around the nations with Kazuha by your side, but you just couldn't imagine spending your entire life like this. Never being provided with a place of your own, to call your home, constantly on the go.

It just wasn't your way of living.

Kazuha understood that and would never force you to accompany him, just like you would never force him to stay with you, even when sometimes the loneliness just got more to you than on other days.

He always came back to you, but he never stayed for more than a few days before he was out the door again, not to be seen for an unknown amount of time.

It was difficult, living like this. You tried to live off the memories and happy moments you had with him when he was here with you, but it wasn't enough anymore. You wanted him by your side again, but you also knew that he would suffer in the long run if you were to ask him to stay here with you.

However, in your mind, it also wasn't an option to just leave thing unmentioned.

Which is why you made the desicion, that the next time he would come home to you, you needed to talk to him about your thoughts and feelings, in hopes you could come to a solution together.

.....

Turns out, the next time he's home again would be three months later. And like always, only letters could have been exchanged throughout this entire time.

Kazuha already had a sneaking suspicion that something wasn't right with you. He couldn't exactly pinpoint it, but the way you were writing in these letters sounded off from your usual way, which is also why he tried to make it back to you as soon as he could. He felt bad that it still took him this long, but there was nothing he could have done about it.

The city he resided in when he got that particular letter from you underwent a strict lockdown only hours later, due to a prisoner escaping. The entire city had been shut down to find him as quickly as possible, all forms of communication had also been cut short.

It took them three weeks to apprehend the convict again, and as soon as the city doors opened again, Kazuha was out of them and on his way back to you.

...

When Kazuha arrived back at the little cottage the two of you shared, it was in the late afternoon.

Already, when he opened the door, he was absolutely certain now that something was wrong. Usually, you would come running to greet him at the first noise or hint that he had come back.

But now? Nothing.

"(Name)? I'm back!", he yelled, in hopes of getting your attention this way, but still, no reaction. Maybe you were out buying groceries or something?

Still, Kazuha decided to wander through the different rooms, just to make sure he wouldn't miss anything. And now, he's glad that he did as he saw you sitting on the patio, wrapped up in a comfortable blanket.

As he approached you, he noticed that you must be deep in your thoughts, just staring ahead of you. He gently opened the door and when that also didn't seem to catch your attention, he decided to speak up.

"Darling?", he asked, cautiously, not wanting to spook you.

You flinched a little at the unexpected sound coming from behind you, but just as quickly, you relaxed again, realizing who that voice belonged to.

"Kazuha. You're back.", you stated, grazing him with a small smile as you turned around to look at him, but nothing more. Normally, you would jump up into his arms, almost taking his breath away.

But Kazuha didn't say anything about it, instead, he grabbed one of the other chairs and sat right beside you. He gently took one of your hands into his, holding it like that. He missed this, missed this physical contact with you.

"Please.. Tell me what's been bothering you, darling."

"....was I that obvious?", you asked, causing a small smile to appear on Kazuha's lips. But he didn't answer, instead waited for you to continue on.

You sighed, fixing your gaze away from him and ahead of you again, thinking about how to best approach this. It was silent for a few minutes until you spoke up again.

"It's just... You're always gone for so long that I-!"

Before you could actually finish your sentence, Kazuha began to groan beside you, making you look at him in confusion.

"(Name).. you know that I don't like being bound to one place."

"I know that, but-!"

"No but's! You knew what you were involving yourself in by being with me. Why are we even having this conversation now?"

You were shocked, not expecting Kazuha to immediately get so defensive about this. All you wanted was to talk to him and maybe propose an idea you had got when he was away. But the way he was acting right now made you feel bitter.

"Can you just listen to me? I'm not trying to confine you, I just-!"

"Yes, you are, (name). What else could you possibly want to achieve by beginning the conversation like that?"

Fed up from being interrupted by him a third time now, you've had enough. An argument started to ensue, when you didn't even intend for this to happen.

You've never experienced something like this with Kazuha, he was always level-headed, calm and collected. So why was he suddenly getting so defensive over this topic. It really wasn't like you were trying to hold him here.

But, with each thing said, both you and him grew more and more heated, the shouting starting to get louder and louder, until Kazuha suddenly stood up.

"If I knew you would get like that, maybe I shouldn't have returned at all."

As you heard him say that, you instantly went silent, looking at him with your eyes wide open.

No.. he couldn't mean that, right?

It also now seemed to catch up to Kazuha what he just said, as he also turned to look at you, shock written all over his face.

"(Name), I...", he began to stay, but trailed off, not knowing what he even wanted to say in the first place. He knew he had fucked up with that statement.

"So, that's it? I wasn't anything to you? Just something you can toy with when you get bored, only to be thrown away when you don't want me anymore?"

A single tear escaped you, running down your cheek and Kazuha immediately had the instinct to wipe it away from your beautiful face, to pull you into his arms and tell you how sorry he was.

So he did just that, pulling you into him, holding your face against his chest as he held your head secure with his hand, your tears now starting to come out freely.

"I'm so sorry, darling. I didn't mean to say such horrible things. No words can express how much I regret ever letting them out of my mouth."

You weren't able to answer him, your breathing being erratic, trying to choke down your sobs and crys. It positively broke Kazuha's heart that he was the immediate cause for this.

He just let you cry in his arms until you calmed down again, all the while he kept apologizing to you over and over, telling you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him.

The two of you would have to continue this conversation, but not today. Not when both of you were this wound up from everything that had happened.

The talking could be done tomorrow. Now was the time for healing...

3K notes · View notes

greycaelum · 6 months

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Cursedtales Collections—La Luna Chapters: { Trick or Treat }

—Vampire Duke Gojo Satoru X Vampire Reader

❦︎ Précis:

"You got your cookie. Now I want mine." He drops a butterfly-soft kiss on the hollow of your collarbone before traveling down to your thighs.

❦︎ Genre: vampire, fantasy, royalty

❦︎ WC/CW/TW: (1.2k)/ blood, biting, blood-sucking, Grand Duke being an opportunistic hungry vampire, Grand Duke and his subtle love languages

❦︎ A/N: Don't ask me about Lycan Sukuna's Halloween, I might end up feeding him to the dogs instead—Grey,

"Trick or Treat?" You crouched down with the chamberkeepers who were busy doing jobs.

"M-My Lady, please, let me get you a chair. No need to crouch down. The soot might get onto you." One of the maids was alarmed seeing you crouch down with them and possibly hurting yourself in any way possible. Who knows if the Master is in a lousy mood and fired them because you got hurt in any way possible? The eldest maid sighed.

"I'm fine, anyway. What's a trick or treat?" You stopped her. Satoru's overprotectiveness of you seems to have rubbed into everyone in the Ducal Palace.

"Oh, it's a human tradition, where kids go around with a basket, asking people..." The younger maid explained to you, and everyone else seems to know such a thing except you, who was once a human.

So here you are, holding a basket, walking over to a particular room at the far end of the East Wing.

It's a strange concept for you. As far as memory goes, you have never left the snowy mountains, and the sight of other humans that wandered through the vast plains of snow is tragically zero until Satoru came. As for His Grace, the chamber keepers already told you he has never once shown interest in such festivities, even when he was a child, so it's unlikely for him even to know such human traditions.

That's quite something Satoru would do. You thought. You can imagine some kid approaching him exclaiming a trick or treat, only to be shot down by his icy glare. You covered your mouth as you chuckled. Indeed, that's something that will happen. However, you're curious about his reaction if it was you.

You knocked, a single and double tune which you have grown accustomed to, and almost everyone knows that tune of knock can only be from you.

You tried to knock a second time, but the door opened, and before you could speak, you were drawn into a tight embrace. A soft sigh lingered in your neck as an arm wrapped around your waist. Perhaps minutes passed or a few more until he spoke.

"Everyone seems to be busy and making a lot of noise. It's making my ears hurt." Satoru pulled you into his office and closed the door. His eyes surveyed you, and you couldn't miss the slight raise of his brow when his eyes landed on the basket in your hand.

"Trick or Treat!" You exclaimed before your mate could speak and pushed the basket towards him.

A poignant pause passed. You couldn't see his reaction because, for some reason, you don't know you closed your eyes.

"... Well, aren't you supposed to open your eyes?"

You looked up to Satoru, a bit embarrassed as you sheepishly laughed and brought the basket back, clutched to your chest. Gosh, you should've known better than to—

You felt the basket sink a little. Satoru retracted his hands and hummed.

"Why did you take the basket back?" He asks.

Inside the basket is a pack of cookies, oddly shaped like a kitten...

You looked up to him in surprise. His Grace shrugged and softly pushed your shoulders to direct you to the couch.

"What's with the surprised face, Kitten?" Satoru chuckles. "Afraid to eat the cookies?"

He's just teasing you. He sat across you, putting the pack of cookies on your palm while taking away the basket and setting it on the table. His hand took your feet, removing your shoes while softly massaging your ankles on his lap.

"So you actually know what a Trick or Treat is, Your Grace."

His Grace incredulously snorted at the remark. He raises a brow at you.

"Do I look that old not to know such childish pranks?"

"Well, you are old!" You giggled as you tried the cookies that tasted divine. Small chirps of delight fluttered from your lips as you made sure not to waste a crumb.

Unfortunately for you, you missed the dangerous glint from His Grace's eyes at the way you bite on that cookie and the way you are unconsciously making those heavenly sighs and munching.

"Oomph!"

The next thing you know is that you're pinned down on the couch. Your mate's breath lingered over your neck while his hand slowly bunched your skirt up to your waist, revealing your supple thighs to his glowing eyes.

"You got your cookie. Now I want mine." He drops a butterfly-soft kiss on the hollow of your collarbone before traveling down to your thighs.

"W-Wait! That's not a cookie!" How could you not ever learn? You gasp, feeling the way his bared fangs drag across your sensitive inner thighs, teasing you with the tingling sensation. Satoru removed his gloves so he could caress the back of your legs, kneading your full, velvety thighs as he nipped and sucked on them until you writhed underneath his touch.

Satoru chuckled and kissed the bite mark from last night that had yet to disappear.

"You are sweeter than any candy..."

"Ngh!"

His sharp fangs sink into your inner thighs. It was mind-numbing how his tongue lapped up any trickle of blood that tried to escape from him. He moaned at how sweet and full your blood tasted on his palate, filling in his greedy thirst as he kept sucking and lapping up in your thighs. The gasps and moans you added were more than enough to entice him even more in teasing you with his soft kisses between his licks.

Through your half-lidded eyes, you could see the grin on His Grace's lips as he licked the last of your blood. His bite mark closed up, leaving but two faint marks of his fangs to remind you how he just enjoyed his treat.

His Grace wipes the droplet of your blood from the corner of his lips and sucks on it one last time before pulling up his clothes, exposing to you his glorious body, rigid muscles, and enticing veins tracing his body hardened by battle scars like art. His thumb softly brushed through your cheeks as you panted sweetly underneath him. He can't help but chuckle and kiss the tip of your nose in silent adoration. His arms flex as he cajoles your tired body to sit on top of his lap.

"C'mere, Kitten, I'll feed you something sweeter."

Needless to say, His Grace has a different kind of Trick or Treat tradition engraved in his mind. Consequently, the chamber keepers got a generous raise after that Halloween season...

—GreyCaelum,

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out more on La Luna Chapters and the Masterlist

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned, image(s) and song(s) used belong to their respective owner(s).

General & Cursedtales Collection Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @saoney @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @rizzmin @emichou-chan

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greatstormcat · 7 months

Text

TF141 x f!oc Monster AU

Part 6

Master List

TW: violence, blood, horror, death, injury detail

With the words of the dead KorTac soldier ringing in their ears, the team regrouped and moved towards the town under a tense silence. Captain Price had radioed back to base to warned them what was happening, and called for heavy backup. For now they were on their own, and still needed to locate König.

Gaz became more uneasy as they neared the town, having not gotten over his burst of anger at the revelation that König was some kind of mutated vampire abomination. There was something to his anger, something personal.

Is it really that bad? Winter asked silently.

Yeah, is all the reply he gave her. To have him suddenly close off from her like this was unnerving to say the least. The sun disappeared behind the mountains, and darkness quickly covered the town. Those few street lights that still worked winked on, casting a yellow glow over the cobbled streets.

The town itself was picturesque with wooden framed buildings, shuttered windows and baskets of flowers everywhere. Winter imaged it busy and filled with people on a market day, the smell of food wafting on the breeze and sounds of children playing in the air. Now, it was a completely different sight.

Clouds rolled in across the dark sky, and rain began to fall on the narrow streets as there made their way through the town. Corpses littered the ground, piled haphazardly as though they had been discarded like rubbish. There were crashed vehicles, some burnt out, and doors and windows smashed open on the buildings. Some of the townsfolk had clearly tried to escape the carnage, and their treasured possessions now lay scattered in the street where they were killed.

They moved through the narrow back alleys, not seeing movement or any living thing until they reached the town center. Here small groups of deformed soldiers, König’s thralls, in KorTac uniforms patrolled around the Town Hall, where lights blazed from inside in contrast to the dark buildings around them. The building stood at the edge of the market square, tall and imposing with carved wooden decorations and gilding. It was like something from a postcard.

"Gaz, I want you on the roof to come in from the upstairs," Price issued his orders to the team. "Ghost and Soap find a rear entrance. Winter, you're with me. We find König, but do not engage until my signal." Everyone nodded.

Winter kept close behind the Bear Shifter as they separated from the others and made their way towards the front of the building. The patrols were only groups two or three soldiers, and easily taken down. Price and Winter moved inside the grand building, just as the lights inside flickered and went out. "Electrics disabled," came Ghost's voice over the radio.

The pair moved along the corridors, past piles of discarded and broken furniture, paperwork and the last remnants of the people who had worked here. Light filtered in from the lamps outside, but the deep shadows gave them the cover they needed. They dealt with a handful of thralls, but no real resistence. As they neared the main hall of the building, the atmosphere thickened, causing Winter's skin to tingle with energy as they neared something monstrous.

At the end of the main hallway, the double doors to the hall stood open hanging from their hinges. Inside, surrounded by dead bodies, sat König on one of the ornate wooden chairs previously used my the town's dignitaries. Light filtered through the windows, picking out his shape. His body was huge, twisted by the combination of KorTac experiments and the vampire's blood. His muscles bulged through his clothing, the fabric having split in places, and he was easily eight feet tall. Red eyes glowed through the hood covering his face, casting a faint light on the ground before him.

"I can feel you there, lurking..." he chuckled, his Austrian accent thick and his words slurred and twisted. "Come out, come out..." he called more softly. Slowly he got up from the chair and stepped forward. Winter felt the slimy slither of his mind reaching out to feel for them. Her stomach roiled as she felt him reaching and curling around her mind, it took all her will power not to retaliate to force his touch back from her mental walls. Price slumped against the wall, eyes wide and glazed over as König locked into his mind and forced him to his knees.

"Captain!" She hissed and shook his shoulder, but he didn't respond. Winter grabbed her radio. "Price is incapacitated," she called.

"Soap too," came Ghost's reply. "Gaz, you good?"

"I'm still here, got a shot from the window Lt," Gaz's voice came back steady and calm.

"Take it," Ghost ordered, and instantly the sound of Gaz's weapon cracked through the air along with the bright muzzle flash. Konig's head rocked to one side sharply in a spray of blood that brought a flash of colour to the air around him, but quickly righted again with a sinister chuckle.

"It's gonna take more than that," he hissed, turning to look up at Gaz. Ghost opened fire from the rear of the room, Winter and Gaz adding to the onslaught as well, creating a strobe of light around him. Konig's body staggered and twitched as bullets hit him, but the laughter continued.

"Fuck this," Winter cursed and threw down her rifle. She drew power from the ground beneath her and sent forth a powerful stream of energy directly at König’s chest. The chamber was bathed in purple illumination as she pulled everything she could to throw at him. Cloth and hair burned, his skin bubbling under the onslaught, but he still managed to step forward whilst his flesh twisted and writhed on his now exposed torso.

"Ah, now you're mine Schatzie," he hissed, grasping a table in one hand and launching in her direction. As she diverted her power to prevent the table from crushing her König moved forward with blinding speed and tackled her, the stench of death and burning flesh assaulting her as he neared.

He grasped Winter by the arm and lifted her into the air, her legs kicking beneath her as she tried to twist in his grip. She tried to draw her power but without contact with the ground it was so much harder. Konig's eyes burned under his smouldering hood, his fangs glinting as he opened his mouth and an inhumanly long tongue snaked out of his mouth towards her face. He slipped his other hand around her face and pulled her in, sinking his teeth into her neck with a greedy groan. As he tasted the Witch's blood in his mouth his full attention focused on the taste of her power, letting Price and Soap free of his mental grip.

He only managed to take a single pull from her neck before Price’s massive bear shaped bulk roared and landed on his back, teeth and claws sinking into the his flesh causing him to pull his head back with a scream of frustration. Winter took the opportunity to grip the arm holding her, and focus her now limited power into his elbow, blasting through the joint and severing his arm. Gaz darted forward and scooped up Winter who collapsed on the floor, blood gushing from her neck, and retreated.

König grappled with Price one handed as black tendrils flailed and curled outwards from the open stump of his other arm. The unnaturally sized bear topping König by a few inches when raised on his hind legs, but König’s strength was still superior. "We have to fall back," Ghost called out. "Soap, we need cover!"

Price managed to throw König backwards, the mutated Vampire’s charred form twisting and changing again as it absorbed Winter’s blood and the Magick it contained. Soap sent forth a swathe of fire, enough to push König back, before pulling one of the acorn wards from his vest and smashing it on the ground. The green canopy of Magick blocked off one end of the building, preventing König from reaching the taskforce as they retreated through the rear entrance.

König could be heard howling with rage and pain as they made their way into the rain soaked streets. The sounds of snapping bone and tearing flesh their only clue as to what was happening behind them as Winter’s power was absorbed into his contorted body, creating Gods only knew what…

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vivienne-writes · 9 months

Text

My Little Fairy 🧚🏻

Summary: Being one of the youngest in the family, Prince Garreth is far down the line to inherit the throne and is more than content to be left to his potion studies. However, his parents have decided to marry him off to a princess he's never met. Or... has he?

AO3: x

A/N: Here's my late submission for Weasley Wednesday! I wrote all this in one go. My brain feels like a sponge. The drawing above was based on a scene I omitted from the story cause it's right after the wedding, and we all know what happens after a wedding 👀 The princess is unnamed, so readers can base her off their MCs, but I had to give her a face so here's my OC. I'm absolutely in love with Oscar Weasley as well (all ya'll in the discord are to blame) so he's definitely making an appearance here, along with a few other made up characters to pad the story.

All was quiet in Prince Garreth's room save for the sound of bottles and flasks tinkling as he examined one after the other, debating which ones to take and which to leave behind. They were filled with an assortment of potions and ingredients alike, but far too many for the trip to his new home. Aurora. A neighboring country that prided itself on its scholars and academic breakthroughs in astronomy and ancient magic.

He had been there once before, on a trip with his father to forge an alliance between their two nations. It was nothing like his home, Camellia, a land of sloping green fields, lush rivers, and forests teeming with beasts and critters. Home to humble hamlets and cities best known for their bountiful trade in rare magical ingredients and plants. No, Aurora was situated high in the mountains to get a clear view of the stars and the heavens, the altitude keeping the nation chilly and brisk for a large part of the year.

Garreth did not mind the weather so much, nor its people. But then again, he had only been a child when he had visited. No more than a boy of eight, if he recalled correctly. But the purpose of that trip had been successful, and Aurora had deigned to ally with Camellia. However, it wasn't until quite recently that Garreth learned of the terms of their alliance. Aurora sought to solidify the alliance by way of marriage, and he was the unlucky one chosen to wed their only princess when she finally came of age. Why him and not any of his other brothers? Garreth had no clue. He'd ask his father, the King of Camellia, but Garreth was still too shaken up about being kept in the dark for so many years that he avoided his father since.

A knock at the door dragged Garreth from his thoughts, but he didn’t deign to answer. He knew who it was, and his visitor never bothered to wait for a response anyways.

“Garreth, are you still sulking?” Oscar asked, resting an elbow on the door handle as he watched his youngest brother take a whiff out of an unlabeled flask. Garreth gave no reply, but Oscar forged ahead, unperturbed by the other’s silence.

“Come on, getting married isn’t all that bad. Look at Septimus! Consort to the lovely Queen of Amaryllis with five children and counting. He spends his days hunting, reading, rearing those adorable nieces and nephews of ours… I’m sure you’ll get to be Potions Master of Aurora if you please the princess well enough.”

Garreth rolled his eyes. "I'd rather be Potions Master here like I've always planned," he grumbled under his breath.

Being one of the youngest, Garreth knew he wouldn't have any claim to the throne. Not with seven brothers and four sisters ahead of him, and he didn't want it either if, somehow, all his siblings dropped dead and gave him a clear shot at being king. Since he could learn to read, Garreth possessed immense talent and love for potions, and his parents supported his studies. They indulged him with a tower of his own, supplied him with everything and anything he could ever wish for, and placed him under the tutelage of the court's Grand Master. He was more than content to have stayed on this path, forging his life by his terms and no one else's. But he supposed there was a reason now for his parents' indulgence. Perhaps he'd go along with the marriage without complaint if they gave him everything he wanted.

“Why can’t you marry the princess instead, Oscar?” Garreth asked, throwing his brother a glance over his shoulder. “I’m sure you’d be able to win her over with that charm of yours.”

"Would if I could. I hear the princess is quite lovely. But father's word is law."

Garreth returned to his packing, dejection weighing his shoulders with a slump. Oscar was right. As doting of a father the king was, there was no swaying him once an order had been decreed, and none of his brothers could save him from this miserable fate.

Oscar regarded his brother with a sidelong glance. Out of all his siblings, he was closest to Garreth, pulling him into all sorts of mischief and saving him from them. But this was one predicament he had no hold over. He had spoken to the king about the matter more times than he could count, going so far as to argue with him. Oscar even pleaded with his mother to do something. The king loved his queen and took her word before anyone else, but she only shook her head sadly. Switching the princess' betrothed would be considered an insult, and Aurora was too great an ally to lose.

Garreth finally looked up, staring out the window as he fought back the tears that prickled his eyes. "I just don't… understand why they'd keep this from me for so long," he finally admitted. Sure, an arranged marriage was awful in itself, but the lack of trust from his parents wounded him. "They could've told me ages ago. Kept me from believing the false truth that I had any agency of my own. It would've been easier to accept it that way."

Oscar bit his cheek with a frown. “Perhaps they only wanted to protect you,” he answered softly, “to keep you happy as long as they could.”

Garreth scoffed. Happy. If the king and queen truly wanted their children happy, they’d let them choose a life for themselves than marry them off to strange princes and princesses. And if Garreth were to marry for himself, there was only one girl he could think of. One lovely little maiden that had haunted his dreams for years…

~~~

“Garreth? Your father has requested your presence – oh dear, he’s not in his room again.”

Lady Matilda rubbed her temple with a frustrated groan. Leave it to her youngest nephew to escape when he’s needed most. “That child’s probably wandering the grounds again,” she muttered as she closed the door behind her, head reeling with all the possible places he could be hiding in. As she turned around a corner, she nearly slipped and snapped her ankle.

"Genevieve, what have I told you about leaving your toys in the corridor?" Lady Matilda eyed the youngest of her nieces, hiding behind a curtain, as she picked up the offending marbles strewn over the floor.

"Aunt Matilda, I know where Gaz went," the child giggled with a toothless grin, her beautiful locks all tousled and in need of combing. "I think he went to the gardens to find lacewing flies again."

“Just because you tattled on your brother doesn’t mean I won’t be back for you, young lady,” Lady Matilda said as she tossed the marbles back into Genevieve’s room with a wave of her wand. “And that hair better be brushed when I return.”

“Yes, Aunt Matilda,” Genevieve pouted.

"Now, to find that little prince," Lady Matilda sighed.

Meanwhile, heat crept up Garreth’s neck, forcing him to tug off his sweltering vest and leaving it to fall in a crumpled heap on the grass. He’ll come back to it later. But right now, he was searching for any sign of a bowtruckle. His eldest brother William told him they liked to hide in the hedges, between the branches that provided camouflage underneath the thickly packed leaves. Garreth wondered what they looked like outside his book's diagrams and ventured out to see them.

But the morning had gone on, and after much crawling and searching, Garreth found neither stem nor leaf of the little creatures and was beginning to turn back to the castle for a fresh glass of pumpkin juice when he heard a sharp shriek.

"Help!" cried the girlish voice, one of his sisters most likely. Garreth sprinted around the corner and came face to face with a little lass dressed all in blue and silver with stars crisscrossing her dress. They were not the colors of his court, red and gold, which all the princes and princesses of Camellia wore. Garreth knew not where this little lady came from, but she was in dire need of assistance as a couple of naughty pixies had begun pulling her hair and clothes this way and that.

“Leave me alone, you pesky things!" the girl cried as she swatted them away. But they returned, taunting her while pinching her skin.

She seemed about his age, so Garreth wondered why she didn't repel them away with magic. Well, whatever the reason, he didn't think the poor thing should be left to fend for herself. So, with a flourish of his wand, Garreth sent the impish creatures flying with a repelling charm. Their teeth chattered, and their fingers clicked impudently, cursing him in a language he didn't understand as they flew off before he could repel them again.

The girl straightened up, fixing her eyes on Garreth as she looked him up and down. "I suppose I have you to thank for that," she grinned, patting down her skirts to form some semblance of tidiness before readjusting the ribbons in her hair. “I shan’t think what would become of me if you hadn’t come along.”

She waited for his response, but Garreth stood speechless, captivated by the stars bedazzling her eyes as she looked him up and down. She was a pretty thing, not like anyone he's ever met around his father's palace. And she was very eloquent, her accent dancing with a different lilt than he was accustomed to. Having realized that he was staring, Garreth cleared his throat.

“You could’ve simply used magic to save yourself, you know,” he mumbled, keenly aware that she was staring just as intently as he was.

The girl shrugged. "I've no magic yet," she stated simply, as if that were a common occurrence, for it wasn't, at least, not in Camellia. Children began displaying their magic around five or six years of age, and this girl may have been around ten or eleven. Her eyes darted to the wand in his hand. "I see you're quite skilled already," she nodded at chin at his wand. "Have you started on lessons yet?"

"Of course," came his reply. "I'm a prince. We're taught far earlier than most." He wanted to ask why she had no magic or wand yet, but it seemed rude to ask that of someone he just met.

The girl tossed her hair with a huff. “You’re no prince. Your clothes are all messy!”

Garreth looked down. His pants were scuffed with dirt from crawling around, and his shirt was wrinkled and creased everywhere. He even had leaves in his hair now that he brought his fingers up to push them away from his sweating forehead. Fighting the urge to blush, he bit back, "I am a prince! I –"

“If you’re a prince, then I’m a fairy,” the girl teased. There was no way this ragamuffin was a prince. Princes were supposed to be stately, well-dressed, and handsome. And although this boy before her was handsome, he was anything but stately. Well-dressed, yes, but his clothes were an utter mess.

“Why are you even here?” Garreth demanded.

The stars sparkled in the girl’s eyes as she beamed with excitement. “I heard there were unicorns here. Is it true? I’ve been walking around in search of them.”

Garreth blinked. Of course, there were. The forests of Camellia were filled with them. Even the royal stable housed a few for his sisters' delight. But if she wasn't from this court as he suspected, there was a good chance she had never laid eyes on them before. Garreth decided that this girl was pretty. Immensely so. And he'd like to impress her just a little bit.

“Come this way. I’ll show you.” And as they walked, she practically skipped with glee, unleashing question after question about the numerous beasts that proliferated the lands of Camellia. And for once, Garreth was glad to have the answers.

As the afternoon drew to a close, Garreth realized there was more to the adorable stranger than he initially thought. Where most of the young daughters of his father's courtiers were shy, timid, or downright snooty, this girl was excitable and feisty. She didn't care if he was a prince or not. She didn't seek his favor or endeavor to please him. Throughout the day, she teased and taunted but always good-naturedly. She asked many questions but listened with rapt attention to all his explanations. About the unicorns, his court, and most of all, his potions.

He showed her the gardens where he got most of his ingredients, and she knew several of the plants already, having read about them in books. Like him, she had a penchant for snacks and shared several with him until her pockets ran out.

"I feel awfully terrible," Garreth said, watching her skirt twirl in the wind now that it wasn't weighed down by candy and treats. "You sure I can't give you some in return?"

The girl shook her head. “Consider it thanks for showing me your sisters’ unicorns. Felicity was my favorite one.”

Garreth nodded. This was the most fun he'd had in a while, and something about this girl enchanted him. Everything she touched or looked at made them seem new and magical to his eyes. She saw the world with a fresh perspective he had never thought to see before… and it made him want to bask in her presence a bit longer. She was magical, this girl. Even if she didn't possess a lick of magic herself.

“I’ve got an idea,” she whirled to face him. “You see that tree over there? Want to climb it?”

"Sure," he chuckled. At this moment, he'd do anything she asked if it meant keeping that bubbly smile on her face.

“Good! Last one’s a rotten egg!” she jumped to a sprint.

"Wait! No fair!" Garreth called out, but she stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder, her thin legs dashing even faster.

Unbeknownst to either, the king and queen of Camellia had been watching their son from atop a third-floor window with an emissary dressed in a fashion similar to the girl’s.

“They seem to be getting along swimmingly,” said the king, giving his wife a thoughtful glance.

But the queen remained worried, clutching a hand to her chest. Garreth was her youngest son. Her baby. She harbored a soft spot for him and wanted him home for as long as possible. With an electrifying glance at the emissary from Aurora, she asked, “Won’t my other sons do? My second eldest, Septimus, has always wanted to marry a princess. He’s a sentimental boy and woos ladies aplenty with his poetry and prose.”

But the emissary shook his head. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I must remind you that while the terms of the alliance hinge upon the princess’s union with one of your princes, it must be of her own choosing. And as such, I have no say in the matter.”

The queen returned her attention to her son, who was now busy picking fruit from the tallest branches of the tree for the princess. While affectionate with his sisters, Garreth has never shown any inclination or affection for any other young girls in their court. No matter how well-dressed, respectable, or accomplished they were, he never gave them so much as a glance. The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her reverie, and the king and queen turned to find Lady Matilda.

“Garreth is hell-bent on escaping me, it seems,” she began, but the king held up a patient hand.

“No worries, dear sister,” he gave her a soft smile. “He’s with the princess.”

~~~

“Where the fuck is the princess?”

“Genny!” Septimus hissed reproachfully. “Must you use such foul language?!”

“Must you be a bore, Sep?” Genevieve stood on tiptoes, craning her neck to find her future sister-in-law’s carriage amidst the procession trailing into Camellia’s royal court. “I hear she rides a carriage of fairest white and starlight. But it’s too dark to see a blasted thing through this window!”

William tapped a finger against his chin before taking out Oscar's bishop with his rook. "You'd see the carriage if you'd just wear your bloody spectacles," he murmured.

Genevieve spun around. “I heard that! And you know why I refuse to wear them. They make me look like Aunt Matilda.”

Oscar looked up and clutched his heart with feigned surprise. “Aunt Matilda! How long have you been standing there?” He dodged Genevieve’s shoe as the others erupted into laughter.

"Prick," she bristled with annoyance, skipping across the room to fetch her shoe. "Anyways, has anyone seen Garreth? He's the man of the hour. He should be waiting downstairs with Mother and Father to receive his lovely bride."

Oscar shook his head with a frown. “You know where he is.”

“Hiding,” said everyone in unison.

It would have been funny, but their brother had stubbornly refused to appear before anyone, dreading their well wishes and congratulations. What should’ve been a joyous event felt like a death sentence, and Garreth was doing everything he could to stay hidden and out of sight. It was a shame, for his siblings have traveled, or are still traveling, from far and wide to see him and witness his marriage.

“You would think,” Genevieve plopped down sadly beside Septimus, resting her feet on her brother’s lap, “he’d come out and spend time with us before he goes away.”

“If it’s any consolation,” said William, “Aurora is practically next door. He can visit us or vice versa whenever we wish.”

“It’s not the saaame,” Genevieve moaned, hugging Septimus’ arm. “One by one, you’re all leaving me. Save for you, William, since you’re taking father’s throne. So, I’m stuck with your sorry ass.”

“You might be married one day too, Genny,” said Septimus.

“Never! I’d rather be a spinster like Aunt Matilda and serve Camellia to the end of my days. Mother knows I’m too capricious to be wed.”

“Never say never,” Oscar muttered, upending the chessboard as he realized his inevitable defeat.

The sounds of William's protests and Genevieve's shrill laughter escaped the study, and Garreth, who had been eavesdropping for a while now, frowned with a painful pang of his heart. This was his last week with his siblings, and here he was, running away from the sight of them like a petulant child. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't withstand their pity. Their fake happiness. But… if he were to face the rest of his life stuck in a loveless marriage, perhaps it was best to enjoy what remaining love he could get from his rambunctious siblings.

With steady resolve, he plastered on the best smile he could muster and opened the door, greeting everyone with a decidedly cheery look. The others knew it was a façade, but they made no mention of it, relishing in their brother's presence before he was taken away from them forever.

~~~

The week leading up to the wedding was a hectic mess that whizzed by in a blur. From outfit fittings to dining with guests, Garreth was extremely grateful for his siblings' help. Many of them were married and helped him endure the craziness of being a royal groom-to-be. And the ones who weren't, like Oscar and Genevieve, managed to steal the limelight whenever they noticed Garreth growing increasingly overwhelmed by the attention.

Thankfully, out of the dozens of guests, Garreth had not been requested to meet his future bride or her parents. He wondered if she dreaded their wedding day as much as he did and if she was soaking up the last days of freedom before being shackled to a man she'd never even met.

But as the wedding day drew nearer, word of his fiancee’s beauty began to spread like wildfire. She seemed to be roaming the grounds, coincidentally avoiding places Garreth was known to linger in. But she couldn't avoid his siblings' notice, with William and his other sisters claiming to have met her during a walk around the pastures. Genevieve, being the most eager to lay eyes on her, finally met her where the unicorns were allowed to graze and went on and on about the princess's kindness and beauty to whoever would listen.

So much so that Garreth was beginning to grow nervous. He didn't care about his fiancée, to begin with, but… if she truly was the beauty they claimed her to be, would she find him dull and ugly? Garreth twirled a lock of hair around his finger. He knew it sent many girls’ hearts aflutter, but would it be enough to impress the princess?

“Genny’s a right ole church bell,” Oscar groaned from the sofa he was napping on, crossing an arm over his eyes. He opened one eye lazily and watched Garreth fuss over his hair. “I could be mistaken, Gaz, but are you seriously primping yourself right now?”

A flush crept over Garreth’s face. “Shut up, Oscar.”

Oscar bit back his smirk. A nervous Garreth was better than a sullen Garreth.

~~~

Come the morning of the long-awaited wedding day, the palace was awash in the sun’s buttery gold light, flitting through the towering glass windows in soft, dazzling beams. But the entire court was abuzz with servants and nobles running to and fro to get everything ready, too busy to take notice of the sun’s blessing light.

Garreth dressed slowly, his limbs moving of their own accord while servants helped him with his vest and refinery. This would be the last morning he’d ever wake up in his own room as a single man and free prince of Camellia. He wondered if it was too late to hop on a stallion and make his escape.

“Don’t even think about it,” came the gruff voice of the Grand Master from the doorway.

“Professor Sharp,” Garreth swallowed loudly. Even with a limp, his master still managed to come off foreboding. “What are you doing here, sir?”

"Making sure you don't do exactly what you're thinking, son," he replied, ambling towards the nearest armchair. He studied his protegee with an unreadable look before saying, "I know you must be expecting the worst, but you'll come to love Aurora."

“How do you know that, sir?”

Professor Sharp gave a wry smile. “Because I was born and raised there. Everything I’ve taught you, I learned in Aurora. They can teach you things you couldn't learn anywhere else."

Garreth gave a tentative smile in return. In all the years he spent under his master's guidance, this was the first time he divulged anything about his personal life, and Garreth was grateful for it. It appeased his heart a little and gave him something to look forward to, even if this marriage might be as torturous as he expected.

And to Garreth's dismay, the torture started as soon as he stepped into the massive ballroom where the wedding would take place. Grand and luxurious, no expense was spared for this wedding, and the heady scent of flowers filling the room began getting to him. Standing on a dais with his brothers as his best men, he wondered which of them would catch him if he were to faint.

“Quit your fidgeting, Garreth,” William chastised, peering over Septimus’ head. “And Hector, spit that gum out of your mouth before I get it out myself,” he snapped at their second youngest brother.

Garreth rolled his neck, clenching his teeth as the fabric of his coat made his neck itch. He utterly despised formal events. The stuffy clothes, the simpering nobles, all of it got on his nerves, and William seemed determined to make everyone as equally annoyed as he was. Thankfully, Oscar had the mind to discreetly transfigure his coat, widening the neckline to give Garreth more room to breathe.

Garreth gave his favorite brother a grateful smile and turned his face towards the double doors as music began to fill the room, the peaceful strum of the orchestra drowning out the wild beating of his heart as it began to race.

This was it.

The moment he'd been dreading for. But regardless of his feelings, Garreth would push through the day with as much grace and charm as possible. There was no sense in starting off on the wrong foot with his soon-to-be wife.

~~~

The princess clutched her bouquet nervously as she waited for the doors to open. The musicians began to play on the other side, signaling her queue to get ready to walk. Her cold, clammy palms started glistening with sweat, and she took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart.

This was it.

The moment she'd been waiting for. The moment to find out whether she made a good choice all those years ago when she was not but a girl older than ten. She felt soft, comforting hands grip her arm gently, and the princess turned her head to gaze down at her loving mother, tears threatening to spill down her face. A sob from her other side, and the princess wavered at the sight of her father, the stoic king of Aurora, now weeping into his handkerchief.

She was their only daughter. The only girl to have been born in three generations, equally as witty and intelligent as her brothers. They knew this day was coming, and she would still reside in their palace as the heiress to the throne, but it hurt to hand her off to be wed. The king and queen had so many words to tell her, so many ways to say they loved her, but when the doors flung open, they knew it could wait. This day was to celebrate a new love. A love they hoped would grow between their daughter and the youngest prince of Camellia.

From behind her thick veil, the princess could barely make out the silhouette of her groom. All her focus was centered on her feet, ensuring she didn't trip on the extravagantly puffy skirt. While the veil was annoying, it at least shielded her from the crowd's immense staring, as many craned their necks and eyes to see if she was as lovely as the rumors had whispered her to be. If all went well, she'd only have to do this once in her life, a thought that didn't seem as comforting the longer she pondered it.

Goodness, did this walkway never end? Her petticoat was a bit itchy, and she wanted nothing more than to kick her heels off and scratch that itch. The princess focused on trivial matters to push the nagging possibility that Prince Garreth might never come to love her. Oh, she's heard the rumors. He didn't take the news of their betrothal well, and it broke her heart a little to learn that he didn't remember her at all.

Well, no use crying about it now. The grave's been dug, and it's time to lie in it. She came to a halt right before the priest, each of her parents breaking protocol to hug her before sitting beside her new parents-in-law. And when she turned to the priest again, she felt her fiancé's arm barely graze against hers, sending ripples down her spine. Even years after, without a clue how he looked or acted now, he still had the same effect on her.

~~~

The priest droned on about the sanctity of marriage and the importance of unification between nations, and Garreth fought back his drooping eyelids. From the corner of his eye, he saw William reach an arm to pinch Hector awake, and a chuckle escaped Garreth’s lips before he could stop himself.

“Any day now, Father,” he muttered as quietly as he could, and Garreth swore he heard a soft giggle from behind the veil. Well, he supposed this marriage wouldn’t be as bad as he thought if his wife possessed a shred of humor.

When all was finally said, the priest stowed away his holy book and looked to the young couple before him to ask if they would take each other as their lawfully wedded spouse. Oscar sighed in relief when he heard Garreth say, "I do," although knowing his brother best, it sounded a little too much like pulling his nails out. And when the bride finally spoke, "I do," everyone in the room waited with bated breath for Garreth to reveal his new wife's face.

His hands shook with trepidation as his fingers met the soft fabric of gossamer and tulle. He shouldn’t be this nervous. He had no reason to be. But his eyes fell on the bride’s hands, and the bouquet quivered in her grasp. Garreth realized she was just as anxious as he was, and it consoled him. Made him realize he was not alone.

Gently, so painstakingly slowly, he lifted the veil inch by inch, past her chest, her shoulders, then her chin, and – oh.

Garreth's breath stilled, his skin blooming a viciously red hue as he took in familiar, star-bedazzled eyes framed by exquisitely long lashes and the most luscious pair of lips he had ever laid eyes on. Lips that curved in a shy but taunting grin as she dared him to remember her. Remember that distant day of chatter and play. Judging from how he gaped at her, it all came flooding back, clear as a bell.

"I guess you ARE a prince, after all," she teased, eyes still searching his for any sign of assurance. Any sign at all that she did not make a mistake by choosing him. Over Garreth's shoulder, the princess could make out his siblings, straining to catch a glimpse of her face, but one in particular, Genny, waved at her with an enthusiastic grin.

All tension in Garreth's shoulders fled him as he smiled down adoringly at his new wife without care that all eyes were on them. "There she is," he hummed pleasantly. "There's my little fairy."

The rest of the world dimmed away in a blur as Garreth leaned down to kiss his bride, his skin erupting into flaming ripples at the feel of her soft lips against his. This marriage may not be so bad after all.

#garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #fic #my stuff #au #i got the background from pinterest but if anyone knows who the actual artist is pls lemme know

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ervona · 9 months

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Day 5: Forgotten / Devotion for @tes-summer-fest

Once there was a tower, a twisted thing with winding corridors and roots sunken deep into the ground. It had stood in its place for ages longer than many now abandoned ruins, and it was alive. The master wizard liked his tea bitter, his stew warm, his estate orderly and his patients content. He kept busy, shrouded in mystery, far from power struggles and political squabbles, making few enemies in his long lifetime. In the end, his greatest enemy turned out to be himself.

Before the great calamity, Vvardenfell was teeming with wildlife in grasslands and ashlands alike. Each day marked their struggle for life, which mer deemed as survival of the strongest. One ought to know that a nix-hound was no match for a kagouti, such a spindly thing in comparison. But when a pack of nixes descended together, they could best the mightiest kagouti and leave nothing but bones.

All creatures wished to survive, and some of them even wove secret arts through intricate magics to further lengthen their lives, but that didn’t necessarily keep them safe from harm. The tower would outlive its maker, and in turn make good use of him.

On the highest spire of spores was a mer clad in bone and brass. Having just unmade her maker, one could guess that she was distraught. In truth she was taking in the morning air, like a newly hatched kwama's first breath. Once, twice, she clicked her feet and her magic boots soared. Unlike how netch would float high with an innate sense of limits, for the time she was lighter than air and they helped to weigh her down.

So high above one could see the whole island, from other towers to castles of stone, black sand and green plains and rivers of fire, and at the very heart of it the corprus-spitting mountain. She thought of the woman who’d last visited them looking for the cure, grumbling under her breath in the tongue of that old friend Vistha-Kai.

Perhaps that floe in the sea of her normalcy had come to note when the patient survived, impatient and insistent that she had a god to kill for what he’d done to her. The tides of inevitable change came for all. For all the effort to remember her parting words, she could not.

Four sisters scattered to the four winds and set out for the sights they’d been sure to never see. One wished to look for ways to aid the afflicted alongside an old friend, another wished to have the world sing and dance to her tunes, and yet another wished to make a name for herself in the circles of noble mer.

One was floating ever still, with no particular devotion for anything, so she stayed and pored over the ancient tomes and artifacts left in her keep. She’d never been alone before, it hadn’t been allowed, so she used the quiet to think upon who she even was on her own.

When calamities struck one by one, she found it difficult to care. Unfortunately, her tower was dying, and she had little interest to maintain it further rather than let the cycle of decay and growth finally be. Let the elements take it, the undercroft swallow it and monsters claim the treasures.

Of herself she made a falling star, and she saw Azura from stone standing strong as ever while the eruption clouds choked in ash her whole world. And she laughed, though out of breath. Goodbye tower and sand and plain, goodbye shimmering coast kissed by an impassive Prince, goodbye Vvardenfell. Goodbye sisters, whom the winds took to where their hearts pointed, may the sun shine on you.

She had never gotten to visit the ruins of old that dotted the landscape, nor seen the snow fall like ash as it did in the north of Telvannis. When she stood on the highest peak of the Velothi Mountains, she had no doubt about journeying further westward to find her place. So she found herself a mountain, and bone-weary from her travels, fell into a deep slumber.

Ah, no, not quite. But that was certainly how it felt when she awoke one day to the sight of a statue–grand one by the looks of it–being built almost in her courtyard. Soon enough she would have pilgrims and busybodies all over her peaceful, frozen mountain and the home she’d made for herself in its forgotten corridors. She was of course fuming like an alchemist’s attic, more vexed than she'd been in so long, having almost put her temper behind her.

Rather than simply let them disturb her peace, she would come to them first. Winterhold–which had stood for ages longer than she’d known, cared or moved into its vicinity–was a city of mages, and they were awfully curious. These fools could be content with aught that sounded like arcane knowledge, but she would teach them lessons that they’d never forget, if they survived where she sent them.

Once again came a heavy knock on her door. “I have a letter for the wizard Fyr… not sure who from,” the courier’s voice came in muffled, but the howling wind was as sharp as ever.

“Give it over,” she said, then rushed the poor thing inside, if only for a moment of respite. Must have been truly devoted to her work, to come all the way up here. But word traveled even faster. How did she even find her, was the question. “Do you know who I am, girl?”

“I… think you are very old and you come from Morrowind. I’d love to visit it someday. And you were of House Telvanni, correct?”

The courier left after having poked her with more questions, but she’d begun to tolerate this. She’d never been alone before, and now she was the wizard Fyr. As far as they were concerned, the only one that ever was and ever will be. Still, she burned the letter unopened.

It took another great calamity to strike her home for her to stir once more. Something in her had sought company for so long, but she’d never expected to find it where she had, to find herself sitting at the foot of the shrine as a habit, supping with its last remaining keeper.

“More tea, Alfe?”

“What? Ah, and more honey. Thank you.”

“You are going to use up all my stock,” she tutted, but mixed in the honey ever still.

“But you don’t mind, right?” Alfe slunk to her side on her fur bedroll. It was no position to drink in, but she liked to tempt fate. After all, fate had led her to the strangest places.

“Certainly not! There are but two of us here.”

Aranea Ienith was by her own account a strange mer, but she was no stranger than herself. The path of sorcery taking a sharp turn into monastic life must not have been so rare, though she didn’t know enough people to tell. She was only strange in that she remained assured Azura had a plan for her yet to be revealed, even after everything that had transpired.

The sea had never stopped hungering for the land, and in years uncounted after her move to Mount Anthor, the raging waves had devoured half of the city below. Winterhold had been a passing interest, rarely a necessity, but to Aranea it’d been much more. This image of Azura was just as uncaring as the one back home had been, looking upon what remained with silent acceptance.

Alfe simply wished that she could offer what her Prince didn’t, and so she did, for they ate and drank and even laughed together despite it all. They discussed at length the lost art of spellcraft while cleaning up the snow piled on the shrine's entrance that so few ever visited.

On the coldest nights made warmer by her presence, she thought of an old book of Aldmeri ballads that she’d left to rot, illuminating what she was feeling and decided to keep close to her chest. She was not the Nerevarine–wherever that woman was now–to contest with gods.

Ofttimes she wondered if they’d met before, somewhere on her rare outings to Sadrith Mora, and it had slipped their minds like so many moments of their long lives best left behind. She was sure she’d seen Aranea before, the same copper hair framing a silver face, only younger, as she had been. It mattered little in the here and now.

Their lives had grown entwined like the roots of old trees, and the priestess' striking devotion was her own now. Not necessarily for the Lady of Twilight, but for each dusk and dawn spent together, for the promise of tomorrow that neither of them would have to face alone.

Thus the tale of Alfe Fyr went on, and would go on for quite some time. As for her sisters, one might wonder, had they each found their place under the sun? Theirs were tales for another time, but rest assured that they lived and prospered, and may yet live to this day.

#tesfest23 #tes #the elder scrolls #morrowind #skyrim #alfe fyr #aranea ienith #merry if you squint. she's there #also the nerevarine. all women special chapter #no cw necessary for this despite the characters #aaand we're back sorry for the delay #scrawling tag #tes legends #i forgot to specify that because i've talked about it before. alfe on mount anthor is from that game!

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questforgalas · 4 months

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Tags/Warnings: none

Words: 1.5k

Masterlist

For those who prefer Ao3

The objective was supposed to be simple: cut off the Separatist army's advance to the capital of Kaller by engaging them in a bottleneck at the mountain pass on the main road. Intel was solid, the Separatists were outnumbered, and the troopers of Jedi General Depa Billaba’s battalion could smell the victory before the LAATis landed.

Only one thing they couldn’t plan for: the desperation of the Separatist leadership. Cocky excitement soon gave way to frayed nerves as a never ending number of droid battalions marched through the mountain pass, unbothered by the bottleneck the Grand Army of the Republic forced them into, wiping out the front line before one full battalion was lost. Commander Gray assessed the field, relayed the new orders, and the lines were reformed, the clone troopers hanging onto their last tethers of hope as they volleyed back at the droids. Still, the droids’ rhythmic, savage march pushed them back.

Bravery is a powerful tool. Desperation is its master.

The call for reinforcements went out in the night, and the troopers dug to the deepest parts of their training, the deepest roots of their honor, to hold on against the onslaught. The dark hours turned light, and like the sun rising in the sky, the hope of every trooper emerged when the transmission came in that the reinforcements arrived and were en route to rendezvous. That almost an hour ago, and while the troopers dug in their trenches, popping fire, taking down any droid in their vision, more and more took the fallen droids places.

The clones were created for war and engineered for victory. Casualties were expected. Losses weren’t. However, facing down the metallic wall steadily marching towards them, Commander Gray offered up a small Mandoan prayer and prepared to raise his rifle until it couldn’t be picked up again.

Now, like most clone commanders, Gray was a practical man. He knew the Jedi believed in the force - believed that it worked and guided the universe in ways he didn’t bother to try and understand - and he knew that desperate words muttered under helmets did more for the mind than it did for the course of their fate, but as he watched a boulder fly down the mountainside perfectly in line with the first two rows of droids, he wondered for a moment if the force really could understand him.

The boulder crashed through the droids, leaving destroyed parts and dust in its wake before flying off the edge, and a laugh erupted from the trees, following the boulder’s path. A figure the size of an adolescent gundark bulldozed its way through the next line, moving at an impossible speed for its size. The figure grabbed a droid by the throat and swung it as if it weighed nothing more than a doll, taking out three more droids with it. The figure’s laugh could be heard above the commotion, shoulders shaking with the force of it, and then it was darting off to its next target.

This is Wrecker - A clone who never met an explosive he can’t hotwire and quivers at the idea of a stealth mission. A warrior brute whose most prized possession is the stuffed tooka doll his brother made when they were younglings. A demolition expert with a heart as gentle as a loth cat.

As Wrecker muscled his way through the next line, another figure followed from the shadows, ducking to the side in pursuit of a cluster of droids. Moving with graceful ease across muddied snow, they wove between enemy groupings without detection. At each cluster they pass, a single shock grenade is placed on the back of the central droid. All targets acquired, they stop and turn, thumb pressing down on a datapad resting comfortably in their hand. Two balls of sparks erupted, and at once, eight droids dropped. Content with their work, the trooper scanned the field, calculating his next attack.

This is Tech - a genius engineered for combat who prefers the solitude of tinkering on his ship. A skilled marksman who’d rather let his modified datapad be the one to shine in combat. A talented pilot whose skills can only be matched by the legendary Anakin Skywalker himself.

Mere seconds have passed since the boulder came through, and confusion takes hold of the enemy. The front line is in disarray from the holes Tech and Wrecker created, and the lesser standing B-1 battle droids begin to fall out of formation. Their heads are spinning, trying to recalculate as they wait for the next order.

Two shadows emerge from the tree line, taking advantage of the confusion, one dashing right and the other left, focusing on the droids now lost on the battlefield.

One prowls on the edge of the chaos like a predator picking prey. A vibroknife sitting in their hand with a familiarity that only thousands of hours of training can grant. Honed in on the separated droids, the shadow makes quick work of their remaining targets, droids meeting their fate before they can say “Roger, roger”.

This is Hunter - An enhanced tracker with the protective instinct of a Loth Wolf. He has no match in hand-to-hand combat, but he’ll find every angle to avoid a fight. The sergeant of his squad, he carries his brothers’ fates on his shoulders on every mission. Every decision. The weight a constant companion.

Where Hunter acts with stealth, his counterpart acts with force. Light on their cybernetic feet, there is nothing subtle about how they takes out the remainder of the front wave. Using their momentum, they put all their force behind their right arm, shoving a cybernetic scomp into a droid’s central system before spinning and shooting another two droids. Sparks fly as the droid short circuits and falls into the frozen mud, but the trooper is already onto the next, systematically eliminating.

This is Echo - A devastating special ops ARC who’d rather spend his time with his nose buried in a book. A trooper with a second chance at life who’s the first to put himself on the line. A brutal strategist carrying a bleeding heart.

The four troopers eliminate the front wave and pause to survey the damage around them, though it’s short lived. Four heads turn as more lines of droids emerge from the dust cloud. One droid raises its blaster, ready to fire, but before Hunter can issue the next order, a blaster bolt from the trees lands directly in the droid’s head. Instantly, another hits, and then another.

Seizing the opportunity, the squad sprints into the gap, but Hunter takes a moment to look up at the cliff overlooking the field. A figure crouches on the rock, protecting the squad’s backs so fiercely that they never bother to look over their shoulders. The sergeant gives a two fingered salute, smiling when he spots the gesture returned with a dramatic flare.

This is Crosshair - Not just any sniper. The sniper. An unbeatable marksman with no equal in all the galaxy. A trooper of few words, but when he does speak, his words are deadlier than his shot. A brother whose thorny exterior lies atop unending loyalty. The destructive combination of severe and unyielding.

Together, this is Clone Force 99. The Bad Batch. The greatest squad in the Grand Army of the Republic. Possibly of any army. Five unstoppable enhanced clones who never knew a mission they couldn’t complete. Stealth or demolition, retrieval or execution, there is no one even close. Five defects who stared into fate’s eyes and said, “Not today”. Five brothers with a bond forged through trials of rejection and experimentation. They only had each other, but that was all they needed. All the galaxy needed.

But unbeknownst to them, the galaxy was changing. On Coruscant, in the heart of the Republic, a hero falls, and a darkness wakes from a century of slumber.

Scattered across the galaxy, the commanders of the GAR receive a transmission. A cloaked figure utters three words.

In a blink, the Jedi order is gone, and an empire rises in place of the Republic.

The age of heroes has ended, and the Batch are thrown into a galaxy they do not understand. Forces out of their control cause a fissure between them, and they are helpless as they watch Crosshair fall into the grasp of the Empire. A year passes. Companions are gained. Standoffs pass. Offers are made. Four brothers mourn another still alive.

Crosshair is consumed by the darkness. Fear his master.

After a year of looking over their shoulders, the remaining Batch find their footing. One a liberator. The others civilians. The Empire’s claws far from reach. Until one day an encrypted file cracks open sealed fissures, and a brother tries to crawl from the abyss.

#tay writes #the bad batch #tbb #crosshair #hunter #wrecker #echo #tech #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb tech #divider by samspenandswords

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justrandomfanfictionskh · 1 year

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A Blue Bird and a Black Cat pt 7

(Selina decides that Marinette would be better as the Cat than Adrien. Five years, later Dick is very confused about this Lady Noire)

ao3 Beginning Previous

Marinette stepped out of Kaalki’s portal into a wide courtyard hidden in the Himalayas, and dropped her transformation. The first thing that she noticed was that it was high noon and springtime, so small determined wildflowers peaked out of the ground, watered by the snow melting off of the shingled tops of the walls. The acolytes were out in full force cleaning, gardening, and training. And the sky was such a clear crystalline blue that it stole Marinette's breath away, especially when compared to the often bleak and monotonous sky of Gotham.

Marinette let the now too familiar sounds and scents of practiced drills, mountain air, chiming bells, and distant chanting wash over her like the calming orchestra it was, and she was pleased to find that the faint smell of stew cooking lingered on the wind coming from the kitchens. She smiled. It was almost like coming home…almost.

“Grand Guardian,” a voice called. And Marinette opened her eyes. She was currently standing on a platform at the north corner of the Eastern Courtyard, right beside the grand grate that was the main entrance to the temple. It was set aside specifically for Kaalki’s use, and her symbol was inlaid with white and brown stones on the top. Bellow her, standing at the base of the alter-like platform, stood the seventeen Master Guardians of the Miraculous. Seventeen, old, powerful, dangerous monks and warriors dedicated to keeping the Miraculous and their users safe and accountable for their actions. One for each of the Miraculous of the Miracle Box whose colors they wore, minus the Ladybug and the Black Cat.

Upon seeing their stern and aged faces, Marinette took a deep breath and put on her mask. She was now the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous. As fierce and as stubborn as any of them. Ready to learn but unwilling to be put down. Her posture straightened, and she gripped her elbows behind her back in a stance that mimicked theirs. The steel spine that she had earned through years of hard-won experience and leadership was now on full display and radiated off of her in waves of power and danger. Ladybug tempered the edge with sincerity. Lady Noire disguised it with mischieviousness. Marinette hid it completely with softness. But the Guardian used it like a club, and even the Masters straightened a little in her presence.

The Guardian came down from the platform like a general descending among their men, and the Masters fell in behind her, arranging themselves in the order of the Miraculous they aligned with. First came the main five, branching off to the sides in a reverse V formation. And behind them were the twelve of the zodiac, arranged according to the current year in a second V formation nestled in the first. Since it was the year of the Dragon, Su-Han was close, which the Guardian was very thankful for. She had a feeling that she would need her old friend more than ever before the day was out.

As they passed everyone, acolytes, monks, and masters alike all stopped to stare at the procession entering the main temple. And the relaxed air of normalcy that usually wafted through the colorful and spacious halls became tense with anticipation. Especially when they stopped so that an attendant could present the Guardian with her robe.

If this was any other visit, then it would not have been the Guardian walking down those steps, but Marinette. A gentle, kind young woman whom they had all grown to love and appreciate as a sister. She would bring them food from the outside and probably set up a TV in one of the community rooms. She would teach them how to use the internet and arrange a trip to Disney World. She would laugh and tell them about all of the time they had missed from their time being trapped within a senti-monster. And she would always, always, refuse her guardian robe so that she could, laugh, talk, and train freely with acolytes and masters alike.

That was not what happened this time. This time when the attendant presented her with the robe, the Guardian donned it with purposeful efficiency and the entire courtyard held its breath even as the fluttering folds settled around her. The full back garment, lined with red and green, only seemed to highlight the calm, cold steel of the woman’s presence. When the Master Guardians, and the Grand Guardian vanished within the temple, the general bustle of the courtyard returned, only now with the quick efficiency of soldiers preparing for war.

Meanwhile the Guardian and the Masters walked silently through the halls into the Small Council Chamber. It was called this not because of its size or importance, but because of its purpose. This was where the Grand and Master Guardians came to speak in private and there was only enough room for them and the round low table with in it. Refreshments were already placed and easily accessible, since not even attendants could enter this room when it was in use. And waves of magic rippled across the walls like golden curtains so that no threat could enter or overhear what they had to say.

They knelt on cushions on the floor, in the same order of their procession, with the Grand Guardian seated under the great tapestry of the Order’s Seal. Once everyone was present and settled, the doors closed and locked with an audible clang and click. And then there was silence, as the Masters waited upon their leader to speak.

“I am currently in America,” she said calm and cold like a winter breeze. “And have recently recovered the Miraculous of the Falcon.” The Masters all breathed a sigh of relief. There had been a great deal of hidden panic and tension, over discovering that particular artifact’s absence, but they still did not speak as the Guardian continued. “While there I felt, as the kwami informed me, the First Warning. I take it by my greeting that I was not alone.”

“We all felt it,” Su-Han said solemn as the stone. But of course, in this room during this council, she would only be able to call him by his official title, Master of the Dragon.

“It was good that you returned to us quickly,” the Master of Turtle said in the same tone. “We need to prepare.”

“For what?” the Guardian said before they could continue. “Do we know what the threat is?”

The Master of the Fox shook, “No, Grand Guardian, we can guess but until the threat presents itself, we will have no knowledge on what it is.”

“But it will not just be anything,” the Master of the Mouse said insistently, “It will be something ancient and powerful, like a demon, or a misused miraculous. Not a human or a nation.”

“I suggest,” the Master of the Turtle tried again, “That you should bring all of the Miraculous that you have collected back here for safe keeping, until you have found their new users.”

“The first user you will need to find,” the Master of the Dog piped up, “Is the Cat, or if you insist on continuing as the Cat, then the Ladybug.”

The Guardian shook her head and silenced them with a hand, “I will be balanced in two days. I cannot surrender either of them or distribute any others until that happens. And as for storing them here, I believe we have discussed why that would not be possible ad nauseum. Or do I need to repeat the obvious again?”

The Masters all gave their verbal and silent acknowledgments, some a little more reluctantly than others, but all of them agreed. After the senti-monster Feast, the Miracle Box should not remain in the same location as all of the other boxes. As long as their enemies believed that it was there in the temple, and that the Grand Guardian was there, then they would never look for Marinette and the artifacts in her possession. And even if some distant or nearer enemy did manage to break in and steal some of the lesser jewels, then they could search the twisting passages of the labyrinth like temple for ages and never find the true prize. And to top it all off, because the vault where the Miraculous was kept was so confusing, then even after the thieves left, they would never be sure that the Miracle Box wasn’t there. Not everyone liked the strategy, but it had proven effective when the League of Assassin’s had attacked. But that was another story.

The Guardian sighed, and allowed her mask to drop just a little, so that the Masters could see the fatigue and anxiety that had been etched on her shoulders ever since she was thirteen, but not enough for the steel to be gone completely. Here, in the temple, she was a queen and in complete control of her kingdom, and every single one of them knew it.

“Look,” the Guardian said softly, “I know that our current circumstances are…untraditional.” Someone scoffed, probably the Master of the Peacock, but she ignored them, “But I have spoken with the kwami.” A few groaned, but she ignored them as well, the more stubborn, and crusty members of the Order did not like the fact that she regularly consulted with them, but she didn’t care, and she let them know that. “And they have told me that the old traditions have the potential to do more harm than good.

“While they were effective, wise, and prudent during a time when civilization was just getting on its feet, that is not the case anymore. The world has changed, and the rules and traditions we abide by must change with them. The kwami and their powers are fluid, natural beings like the river. Dam the river, and you give the valley a chance to grow and thrive. But if you do not let any of the water out, then eventually the dam will corrode, crack, and burst drowning everything below. But none of this,” she declared gesturing around at the invisible debate around them, “Answers the question of the threat. Which kwami will be needed? When will it come? How can we prevent it? And if we can't prevent it, how do we fight it?”

A collective, quiet muttering descended on the room, and the Guardian said straight backed and silent as she waited for them come to whatever conclusions they were turning in their heads. She didn’t care if those conclusions were about her argument or her questions, so long as someone answered the later. She knew these men. They were good men, and they would follow her when the time came without hesitation. So let them disagree with her. Let them argue with her. So long as the greater problem was solved and the threat dealt with, they could complain about her all they liked. It didn’t change the facts.

She was the bonded Guardian of the Miracle Box. In the end, she was their leader, and that was that. In the end it was Su-Han who spoke and quieted the mutterings, “We cannot know when it will come. And we cannot prevent it. This is why that…sensation, is also called the ‘Universe’s Call’ because it is something inevitable. Something of destiny.”

“We all felt it,” The Master of the Snake said softly, “Which means---but this is not certain, that all of us will be needed.”

“Once your day of balance comes and goes,” The Master of the Bee said calmly, “You should at least find users of the main five, including the Cat, or Ladybug. As you choose them.”

“Guardian,” The Master of the Moth said softly, he was always kinder to her than some of the others. “If I might offer you some advice on that subject?”

The Guardian smiled gently and nodded. He was the only one who asked to give her his wisdom without trying to force it on her, “Find a user who is like yourself. A fluid soul that can be both order and chaos. If you do, then you will not need to fight for balance, and take the ring away. Once the threat is dealt with, you and your partner can work in tandem, exchanging the jewels as you see fit, and there by becoming more powerful than you could ever be alone. As they were meant to be.”

“It has long been theorized,” the Master of the Turtle said thoughtfully, “That the Ladybug and Cat were meant to be exchanged among fluid souls, and not just one who is pure order, and one who is pure chaos. But the old Masters were too frightened by what such a pair could become.”

“We cannot stop that now,” The Master of the Rabbit declared casually, “A fluid soul has been bouncing between order and chaos for ten years now. If you are to maintain the balance efficiently, and correctly, then Guardian I must agree, you need a fluid soul. Like yours.”

All of the Masters gave their verbal consent to this, and the Guardian was almost stunned completely out of her mask. The only time they had ever agreed on something unanimously was when the League of Assassin’s had been banging on their door. She shook her head and sighed saying, “And where would I even begin to find such a soul?”

“ACHOO!”

“Bless you,” Red Robin said with an amused smirk. “What’s wrong Nightwing, you comin’ down with something.”

“No,” Nightwing said rubbing his nose passively, “It’s probably just the air. That or someone’s thinking about me.”

“Tt, in annoyance,” Robin muttered, and Red Hood could be heard cackling over the comms.

“Focus,” Batman groaned from the other side of the warehouse they were all about to converge on. “Nightwing see Agent A when we get back. For now, Oracle, report.”

“Two Face just walked in and he’s got the package. Bane is moving into position now, eta 5 minutes.”

“Nobody jinx us!” Spoiler hissed, before anyone could say something stupid like, “And then we’ll have two rogues for the price of one.”

“Tt, do not be ridiculous,” Robin began, but Nightwing distracted him by saying,

“Hey Catwoman, where’s your student? Shouldn’t she be here for family bonding? I mean she is your family right?”

Selina gave an amused chuckle saying, “Why do you ask? Miss her already?”

Dick groaned internally, realizing what he had just done. In preventing a fight and other related superstitious mayhem, he had sacrificed himself to their mockery and close observation. Now whenever he saw Marinette again there would be no escape. “No,” he shot back, “I just want to make sure she’s not jetting off to steal the Mona Lisa or something.”

“Shame on you Nightwing,” Catwoman cried in mock offense, “My kitten would never steal something so precious before finishing my wedding dress, and especially not without me!”

“Implying that she would steal it,” Red Robin said suspiciously.

“And that you would help her,” Batman growled.

“Now, now, you too,” Catwoman chided, “I was only half joking.”

“Meaning you were half serious,” Robin said.

“But about which half?” Spoiler mused.

“Time,” Orphan cut in.

“She’s right,” Oracle said, “Time to move.”

Taglist: @tails-and-scales @the-ghost-trader @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @the-dumber-scaramouche @yoonjae20 @robyalix @seraphichana @iglowinggemma28 @taewinterbear95 @heretopasstimebi @littleblue5mcdork @quotesandanime @komatsuna-yuki @attractivemyfoot @deathssilentapproach-blog @vel-vee @vixen-uchiha @lady-bee-fechin @qualityhistorygamingwinner @its-maemain @meira-3919 @raven-ette @doglover82 @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay

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dandelion-wings · 7 months

Text

I came home with a couple lines rotating in my head and managed to produce... whatever this is on the Oceanid!Barbara front, so I will call this a writing warmup and set it down here before I move on with my day.

---

There is a voice that sings, sometimes, at the headwaters of Cider Lake.

Some people whisper that if you go there at midnight, in the light of a waxing moon, and place someone deathly ill or sorely wounded in the waters there, up on the shore beneath the cliffs of the Stormbearer Mountains, then the song will whisper out over the lake and the water will hold them gently up and they will come back out healthy and cured. No one is sure how, or from whence the song comes. Rumor says that the song is an ancient hymn to Barbatos, trapped in the winds of time and echoing off the mountaintops that no longer exist. All anyone knows for sure is that it must be night, and it must be moonlit, and you must row there in silence, and lay down your loved ones in silence, and return to the city in prayer.

Others could tell you that the hour and the light have nothing to do with the song. The wild boy who dwells in Wolvendom, for one; he goes there rarely, but he goes in daylight with wounded wolves or ailing pups, for the moonlit hours are a time for remaining in Wolvendom and howling their own songs to the moon. The clumsy boy who so often finds himself injured in the mountains, for another; he fell down the cliffs the first time on accident, but ever since, if he's in particular trouble, the song rises from the water no matter the hour. The little elven girl with her too-clever toys, as well; she's told everyone she knows, with a child's blithe innocence, of the sweet voice in the water that sometimes plays catch with her and throws her bombs back when she's fishing, though no one she tells will believe her when she explains for the third or fourth time that that's how she blew up her boat.

There is another who knows it, too. The nun who started the whispers and who makes sure they stay whispers, the red-haired woman who brought in from the wilderness who pulls people aside, sometimes, when the other nuns shake their heads and send the loved one they can do no more for regretfully home. If she trusted you, she could tell you that you don't have to go at midnight, nor in the moonlight, nor in silence, nor for that matter all the way to the headwaters beneath the cliffs. But she understands how important it is to have an air of mysticism around such miracle cures. Let anyone know that the voice that sang, once, to heal her leg as she fled from a mighty man she thought intent on her slaughter, is so easily approached, and who knows what nets might be cast to catch it. She certainly doesn't trust you enough to tell you the truth.

(Don't be offended. She doesn't trust anyone, not the fellow outsider with whom she drinks, not the other red-haired vigilante with whom she shares the night, not even the man who caught her despite the voice's kindness and brought her implacably home.)

But even fewer know that the voice doesn't stay only at the headwaters. Sometimes when the worst has happened, when the Acting Grand Master has fallen ill again, afflicted with trembling hands and syncope and vertigo and, at the apex of the illness, a shortness of breath and gasping as if she's drowning on dry land, the voice moves south to the waters around the city. It rises all night above the waters, lonely and sweet, beautiful and full of yearning. When the Acting Grand Master wakes in the morning, after the song has fallen silence, she always finds that she can breathe again.

That song truly comes only at night, and only a few hear it, those who are awake and alert and surrounded in silence, that they might catch the softest breath of song through the city's thick walls. The red-haired nun, when she steps out of the cathedral for a breath and a smoke and a moment away from the fussing of the senior nuns over the Acting Grand Master. The city's other red-headed vigilante, if he hasn't yet found his quarry that evening, or found it and left it burnt and bleeding in his wake. The alchemist who never sleeps, if he happens to be out of the lab, watching over a too-clever little elven child long since tucked into bed. The descendant of a depraved dynasty, if the foe she's scouting that night is close to the city that she's devoted herself to despite all its hatred for her line.

And sometimes, in the silence on the shore, a young maid determined to become a knight, just finished working late to clean the Ordo from top to bottom, listening in wonder as she looks out over the lake's gentle waves.

There is a voice that sings, desperate to be helpful and loved for it, beneath the waters of Cider Lake.

#fic bits #sing me a song barbara #oceanid au

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echos-girlfriend · 1 year

Note

Congrats on the 100 followers. Big hypes to you friendo <3

I would love to see your take on Wrecker in a medieval AU. Like the mountain but really really sweet....*swoon*

Howdy!

Ooo I’m excited to do this one!

(Messaged me the prompt after they made the request)

Wrecker

6 - “Come with me”

Medieval AU

Master list

Um so this may or may not be heavily inspired by the details in the princess bride 👀 including the fire swamp.. rodents of unusual size, princess kidnappings.. all that wonderful stuff.

~_~_~_~

The princess’s favorite pastime was taking a horse ride with the grand knights. They were her best friends .

“Milady, we must be cautious while we are out in the woods. The recent attack on the kingdom has left our security thin”

“I understand captan Rex. I’m not a child. Besides I have all of you to keep me safe”

“You got that right princess!”

Your personal knight, wrecker was the closest to you. You two shared a secret relationship. You gave him a sweet smile and you all continued down the forest path.

“Halt..”

Captain Rex raised his hand and all the knights pulled their horses to a stop. He looked around.. Hunter slowly pulled his horse to the captain.

“Captain. I hear horse hooves”

“… we need to get out of here”

“Why what is it?”

“We believe a group of bandits are coming. You’ll be their first target if they see us..”

You nodded and you all brought your horses to a gallop.. but it was too late. The bandits closed in and separated you from the knights.

“Princess!”

Wrecker yelled for you but the bandits had already taken you from your horse.

~_~_~_~

“The Kingdom of Serenno will give us a great fortune if we give them the princess of Kamino..”

“You won’t win… my knights will find you”

“That band of misfits won’t be able to help you this time..”

“Captain Rex is the best leader in the whole kingdom.. hunter can track anyone and anything.. he will find you. Echo and Fives can withstand any storm or force.. and tech is smarter than any philosopher.. Crosshair could shoot you down with an arrow from any distance.. and wrecker can beat you until there’s nothing left of you.”

The bandits gulped.. maybe they had bitten off more than they could chew. An arrow came from no where and it hit a bandit dead between the eyes. His body dropping to the floor.

“The knights are coming!”

The leader grabbed your arm and pulled you to his side. The knights galloped forward and came face to face with the bandits..

“If you come closer I’ll cut her throat..”

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you..”

Rex looked down at you. You knew what to do. Although your father never approved if it, the knights stilled gave you training if your own.

Your fingers quickly reached around your body and into the bandits eyes. Causing him to let go and lash out.

You dropped to the group and all chaos broke loose. The bandits, although they were going to loose, were definitely giving your knights a hard time..

“Princess! Come with me!”

You looked up and saw your wrecker. You ran to his horse and held your hand out. He pulled you up and into the back of his horse.

“Get her out of here wrecker!”

“You got it captain!”

You wrapped your arms around your gentle giant as best you could. You rested your head on his back, hugging him close.

You came to a clearing and the horse stopped.

“Were you scared?”

“I was at first.. but I knew you would find me”

“Of course we would.. I love you..”

“I love you too”

“We need to keep moving.. we’ll go through the dagobah swamps..”

“But wrecker what about the K W S’s..”

“Huh? Oh the Knobby White Spiders.. I think it’ll be fine”

~_~_~_~

(If anyone wants to request a pt 2 go right ahead I really enjoyed writing this!)

#echos girlfriend 100 celebration #the bad batch #clone force 99 x reader #the bad batch x reader #clone force 99 #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #tbb wrecker #clone trooper wrecker #tbb x you #tbb x reader

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cevans-is-classic · 2 years

Text

Winter Flowers

18+ only, please. Sexual Content with some fluff. Language, oral sex, fingering, and unprotected sex.

Autumn Flowers - Spring Flowers - Summer Flowers - Autumn Vows

My master list and my Chris list.

When the air turns freezing, Chris noticed the newest vase sitting beside the toaster in the kitchen. He stroked a finger down the side of the snowdrop, tilting it up to lean down and breathe it in. When had you brought this one home?

The vase was a crystal blue, white snowflakes patterned it — Chris thought of the blue scarf you wear, the way you bundled yourself in it, layering with a matching hat and a down jacket. He loved watching you wrap it around and around until it sits right along your shoulders and bury your face in the warmth of it before peering at him with bright eyes.

He thought of the last autumn piece that sat in the middle of the table at thanksgiving and how happy you were when his Mom complimented the choices.

You loved so many things, always pointing out books, movies, and different hobbies you rotated between. He could get you something personal? Maybe something he knew you would never buy yourself but would use it daily, or he could go the extravagant root and take you on a trip to somewhere you always wanted to go?

Hmm, this would be the first Christmas the two of you planned to spend together.

He rubbed a petal between his fingers, being careful not to tear the fragile flower, and thought over what he could get you.

Oh, that would be nice.

You’d always wanted to see Europe and Chris had been there more times than he could keep track of. He’d love to see the sights through fresh eyes and watch the way you reacted to it. How would you feel if he brought you to Greece? To Rome? Walked the louvre in Paris with you or see the mountains of Ireland?

Although, much like him, you weren’t a fan of large, loud surprises and he knew he’d have to talk you through it between the long airplane trips and being in an unfamiliar place. He’d save that idea for later, for an anniversary or a getaway that the both of you wish to take.

Could he put something together for you? Maybe a collection of your favorite things or an edit of your favorite behind the scene videos he takes on set; that would be both personal and extravagant — kinda. He could think of plenty of things he could put together. How’d he present it to you, the way he’d add brief clips of the two of you together and make sure you had copies for when you were away? There is also the thought of a grand gesture-

Wait - he looks around the room, notices the jacket you had hanging by the closet, the glass of water you had on the side table, an extra pair of glasses leaning against the lamp from where you’d thrown them off last night. Chris knew if he opened the bottom two drawers of his closet shelves he’d find clothes, toiletries, and other small things you may need while you were staying at his place.

He rose to his feet to walk through his house, pointing out things to himself that you had left around or things you even purchased for yourself. The lactose free milk in the fridge, your favorite brand of cereal on the shelf, the Hawaiian comfort rolls you love, and the brand of ice coffee you drank.

There was a pair of shoes he knew you were standing next to his and one of your smartwatches hanging from his key chain hooks. Spinning around his living room in a full circle, Chris paused, stopping to sit down on his couch and think through what he knew he’d get you for Christmas.

You knocked, which meant you had a bouquet to replace the dying one in the dining room. Chris smiled, looked at the box that sat on the coffee table.

“Alright Buddy, tonight’s the night.” He mumbled to Dodger as he followed the canine towards the front door.

You wore the blue scarf. It highlighted the redness of your cheeks and the bouquet you held up had a bag of starburst jelly beans nestled in the middle. “Theres more where that came from.” You grinned wide, shoving your way in as Chris grabbed for the bag and started opening it.

“When did flowers produce Jelly Bean? Or did you get bored one week and experimented again?”

You turned off the heel of your foot, moving the vase to rest on your hip to point a finger at him. “Get snarky, and I’ll have to punish you, and, if you recall, I was very high when that happened.”

Chris chuckled, stepping forward to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in, being careful not to knock the vase you held. You hummed as he pressed you against his chest. His lips ghost your forehead, your cheek, then drew you in, leaning into you as you tipped up on your toes, push deeper into the kiss. Chris licked the seam of your lips, plunging in when you opened your mouth, and he tasted the peppermint hot chocolate you’d stopped to get.

You were intoxicating. Something precious and wild he could hold in his arms, could lift until you had your legs around his waist and he could carry you towards the living room. He felt drunk on the roll of your hips after he’d gotten your jeans down, your underwear following with a soft brush down your legs, his tongue spreading you open after he trailed kissing up your calf and thigh. The moan of his name surged him upwards to share the taste of you. His fingers plunged into you, lifting your hip into the jut of his sweats covered cock.

He could kiss you forever, listen to the sounds you made when he gripped you, when he sat the vase on the hallway shelf and tipped you into the wall.

You groaned, both arms wrapping around his back, one sliding to the top of his ass and the other pushing into his shoulder and pulling him closer.

“Fuck!” You jerked, eyes slipping close, his palm ground into your clit, fingers searching for the spongy part that made you tighten up, claw at his shoulder and, “God dammit, fuck, fuck—ungh!” That’s what he craved, what he ached for on long trips away from you and nights when you couldn’t stay. You shivered under him, pulsing around his fingers your mouth open, breathing hard as your head tilts backwards when his fingers starting stroking you again, slower, without rhythm.

“I left your gift here.” You breathed out.

Chris bobbed his head. “Uh, I would have noticed a package.”

You shark grinned, “Would you?” Your hand moved from his back to his cock, pressing down, gripping the outline of him to rub against him.

“How?” You pulled at the drawstrings, slid both your hands to his ass and pushed into the waistband, grabbing at him to grind his cock into your heat.

“Fuck me and I’ll tell you.” He wouldn’t argue with that.

Sinking into you was a dream. The gasp you draped over his lips when he first presses in, the tightness of your thigh beneath his hand, the way you groaned when he used the other hand to tug your head back. He licked down your neck, over your throat and back up to nip at the skin beneath your chin. He snapped his hips to match the drop of yours and it dragged him into a pool of heat.

How could he have this every day, every night, for the rest of his life? What made him this lucky to get your ‘Good luck’ messages when he did an interview or went to an award show? The ways you helped to center him when everything felt out of control. Did he make a wish, one he’d long forgotten, for the best person to enter his life be you?

What deity out there allowed him to have someone that was their own true self, not for another person, but for themselves. Who worked at discovering a life they could cultivate for themselves without turning to resentment and lack of patience. A partner who showed up on his doorstep with flowers and warmth he wanted to bask in. Above all else; what made him take so long to find you?

He buried his face in your neck when you dug your nails into his back, grabbed at his hips and fucked yourself down onto him. “Such a good boy.” You praised him, “Right there - right there, baby.” He ground down, helpinh you rub your clit along him, love feeling you drip and lifted his head in time to watch your eyes roll up, your mouth fall open and a deep guttural moan wet your lips.

“God, fucking dammit, Baby, baby, yes.” Chris went faster, wrapped both your legs round his waist, slid his hand under your hips to push you up and dropped his head back down to help angle himself deeper, “I want this every fucking day. I don’t want to be anywhere but inside you; with you.” You started fucking back against him. The tremor of your legs driving him forward, hips snapping as fast as he could go while you clawed at his back and dug into his cheeks.

“Always! Always, my sweet boy, my love.” You always kissed these words against his cheeks when he was like this. When he wanted to bathe in you. Be a part of you.

When he felt you squeeze yourself around him, shivering through another orgasm, he growled your name and spilled into you, fucking his hips in and out to feel your wetness and his come mix.

As you both calmed down, breathing heavy, letting the sweat that collected cool your bodies — Chris caught the look in your eyes that made his chest grow tight and happy shivers dance down his spine.

It’s okay.

“Come here often?” Chris barked out a laugh, your own joining in and it to mingle together and snapped something loose through his body.

“Move in with me.” slipped past his lips, followed by an embarrassed, “I swear that was planned—uh differently though. I got you a key.” His stomach dropped, neck prickling with panic that you be upset at his timing. Maybe you’d let him down easy, or you’d tell him you don’t feel comfortable moving in with him; which is okay.

Chris knows it’s okay.

Your body pushed his soft cock out as you set up underneath him and leaned forward to nip at his shoulder, “Sure.”

He jerked from the shock of your teeth and the answer you so readily gave him as if you’d been willing to offer it all along.

“Really?”

You moved again to shove him back and climb into his lap, “I don’t know if you noticed but I basically already live here, Evans.”

You rolled your hips above him and Chris lost his track of thought to the twitch of his sprung cock. His last coherent thought whispering that he was going to live with you and pick out flowers together.

I want to shout out to @bolontiku and @xoxoloverb and my partner's partner for dealing with me.

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader

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a-little-awkward-simp · 2 years

Text

KING HASSAN x MASTER! READER -- Old Dad of the Mountain

A short wholesome thing of one of my favorite characters :D

King Hassan x master! reader (platonic)

Fandom: FGO

warnings: none, just fluff

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You walked around the corridors of Chaldea. You didn’t have much to do that day. You had already gone through the day’s training and now you had the rest of the day off. You greeted the staff and the servants as you passed by them. This was nice.

That was until you heard an announcement.

“Master Y/n’s presence is needed at the cafeteria immediately” sounded the intercom.

It kept repeating the message. You grew worried and rushed towards the cafeteria.

The intercom went silent after you got to the cafeteria, only to find it perfectly fine.

“What the hell…” you muttered to yourself, looking around.

“Good afternoon master” you heard a familiar, deep sound coming from your left.

You turned and your eyes landed on a huge figure that was wearing a cute apron which seemed to be way too small for them.

“Hassan?” you asked, surprised and slightly amused by the sight. THIS was the emergency?

He came closer and you saw a tray full of cookies in his hands.

“I made these for thee, young master. Thou art always so busy with thy responsibilities, so I decided to make thee some snacks”

You looked up at him with wide eyes and then down at the tray.

“I- Thank you, sir” you took the tray from him, hesitantly and confused. “I.. truly am grateful for this”

“It was nothing, young one. It is my duty as thy faithful servant, to ensure thy wellbeing and safety”

What is happening? The grand assassin, king Hassan, the very first assassin, making cookies? For you?

“Please, be seated, my young master” he pulled out a chair for you.

Is this for real?

“Thank you…” you sat down with the tray.

“Master” he turned to leave.

“Wait! I thought we’d share these together” you smiled at him, and took a bite of a freshly baked cookie. God, those were good.

“... If my young master so wishes” he took a seat in front of you. “How hast thy day been?”

You started telling him about your day, what you had done, what had made you happy, how Fou had woken you up that morning. He seemed to be fully focused on what you were saying. It was nice.

After a while, you started to feel slightly tired and yawned.

“Art thee tired, master?”

“A little, yeah. A nap would be nice” you stretched and got up. “Thank you so much for this, I’ll save the rest for later” you smiled.

“I shall help thee, master”

“Wha-”

Before you knew it, Hassan had already picked you up, like carrying a child towards your room. You fell asleep quite quickly while being carried by Hassan.

Finally he reached your room and set you down to your bed. He set a pillow under your head and pulled a blanket over you.

“Sleep well, master” he pat your head gently.

He left your room quietly so he wouldn’t wake you. He knew you worked so hard every day and knew you deserved a good nap. When he learned that this day would be pretty much a day off for you, he made sure it was a perfect resting day for you. He would make sure no one would disturb you or interrupt your nap. That was his responsibility.

Old man of the mountain? More like old dad of the mountain.

#king hassan #fgo #fgo x reader #sfw #fluff #platonic #reader insert #gramps #hassan

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midorishinji · 3 months

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Blue

Satoru Gojo woke up crying that cold November morning. He swallowed back his tears just as he swallowed the three words he wished he had said in Suguru's final moments, in that alleyway in Shinjuku. "To you, who blooms and scatters like transient flowers, goodbye”

Satosugu ｜Oneshot｜Also published in Portuguese and on AO3

Satoru Gojo dreams of faces that torment him every night. He stops sleeping, eventually; the faces remain even when he is awake, now in his peripheral vision, eternally present. Riko Amanai watches him with the same sad eyes he remembers from their visit to the aquarium, but there is a peculiar hole in her forehead, a trickle of blood running down her nose. Misato Kuroi is always covered in blood, paler than death. And Suguru Geto is smiling, like that fateful day in Shinjuku, when he said that he could never be happy in a world like that.

The day Toji Fushiguro murdered Riko, something inside him died, Satoru concluded. Nothing was ever the same again, and he wasn't the only one who thought so. Shoko gradually had less and less free time, her hands stitching pieces of bodies back into place and putting life into them again, at the cost of her own energy, of her own life, increasingly deeper dark circles and a face that showed how each miracle performed ripped away another piece of herself, and that maybe one day there would be nothing left to take from. Nanami was never the same after he saw Haibara Yu pass under his responsibility: he abandoned, for a while, his career as a sorcerer because he could no longer bear to see the mountain of bodies of his companions that piled up day after day. Suguru stopped being his moral compass when he murdered an entire village of non-sorcerers.

Satoru Gojo was sleeping restlessly, as usual. This time, he dreamed of a world where he had defeated Toji Fushiguro and stopped the Time Vessel Association from completing their goal. Riko was alive, and never got to merge with Master Tengen, who achieved stability despite this setback: she would be an adult now; she had completed college and, in this reality, had just had her first child, a baby girl named Sachiko — “miracle child.” Misato became her legal guardian until she came of age, and cried the happiest tears of her existence when she saw Riko back in her arms, still a fragile child, on that day when she should have merged with Master Tengen. Nanami and Haibara were waiting for him at a bar for drinks that Friday night, to celebrate Nanami's birthday. Other guests included Utahime, Mei Mei, and Shoko, who had fewer dark circles under her eyes and a smile that seemed genuine rather than hollow.

Another person was also waiting for him at the bar. Suguru Geto never killed those people, never abandoned his past, his ethics, his life. He was still the same Suguru who was horrified when Gojo suggested killing all the damn members of the Time Vessel Association when they recovered Riko Amanai's body. Sometimes Satoru thought about how he should have — how he wished he had — killed all those miserable excuses of human beings; it would have been as easy as snapping his fingers, and it wouldn't have made any difference in the grand scheme of things. Maybe that would have made a difference in how things turned out. Maybe not. It didn't matter in that alternative reality, in that dream: Riko Amanai was alive, and happy.

The Satoru of his dream took a long sip from his glass of beer, laughing at one of Haibara's misadventures on the most recent mission he faced. His eyes met Geto's, a talent he had for always finding him in a crowd, and Suguru smiled. When the two returned home, the cicadas sang, filling the cold summer night; in his dreams, it was always summer, like the eternal youth of his Jujutsu High days. The sky was still clear, the setting sun threatening to turn the blue into orange. The glass buildings in the Shibuya region reflected blue, dyeing everything the same color, the color he had always associated with Geto.

The two walked in silence. There were so many unspoken words — in that dream and in reality — that Satoru couldn't express them, the bitter taste of goodbye always stuck in his throat, words unspoken and swallowed desperately; it was the terrible taste of the curses that Geto swallowed, which he did not share with anyone else.

Suguru smiled at him, and there was no anguish or pain behind his smile. — We will meet again, won't we?

Satoru Gojo woke up crying that cold November morning. He needed to blink a few times to dispel the vision of blood on his hands, Geto's blood, which he would never be able to wash off completely. He swallowed back his tears just as he swallowed the three words he wished he had said in Suguru's final moments, in that alleyway in Shinjuku.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #nanami kento #haibara yu #shoko ieiri #toji fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #kenjaku #writing #fanfiction #jjk fanfic

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shywhitemoose · 2 years

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Out of Place

Well, my disaster brain had another idea and wouldn’t leave me alone, so maybe let’s explore what happens if we unceremoniously dump Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, robes and all, into oh.. i don’t know... the middle of desert nowhere southern Nevada? Not far from modern day airplane mechanic and aircraft racer Anakin Skywalker’s home? 🤷‍♀️

I have no grand plan for this but there are a handful of ridiculous situations I absolutely want to write the boys in, so I’m guessing this might end up more like a series of little episodes rather than a solid fic with one cohesive plotline. Anyway, here’s the first bit, along with a link to the full chapter if you’re interested. I hope it’s as fun to read as it is to write 😊

It was 5:30 pm when Anakin felt the tremor.

He was elbows deep in the P-51’s engine compartment, fishing for the socket wrench he’d just dropped behind one of its exhaust pipes, and the ladder beneath him rattled so abruptly he found himself clutching the ribbing of the warbird’s exposed airframe to keep his balance. On the wing beside him an old transistor radio clattered to its back, but its dusty speakers blared on, oblivious, having buried beneath the stale din of AC/DC any outside noise that might have accompanied the small quake.

The young mechanic switched off the radio and glanced over his shoulder toward the hangar gate. Its large sliding doors were still open, flanking a barren panorama of the valley to the north. It was a familiar scene, an arid landscape kissed warm by a late October sun, sparse patches of desert bush flickering in its light as they caught the evening wind. Nothing seemed out of place.

Any other time, Anakin might have brushed it off. He was no stranger to the occasional seismic blip out here—he’d made this airfield his home, after all, and less than thirty miles west was an active military test range. But it seemed a little late in the day for scheduled detonations, and he could feel some small, inexplicable little tug in his gut whispering this is different.

He turned back to retrieve his wrench, then he descended the ladder and walked outside to investigate. When his feet hit the pavement beyond the hangar doors, his gaze turned instinctively westward, and he had to raise his hand to block the sun as he scanned the horizon.

Smoke was rising from a fold in the foothills of Badger Mountain.

Without a second thought, he darted back into the building and wrenched the enormous, weather-worn doors along their squeaky track until they met in the middle, where he locked them shut. He snatched his jacket from a peg on the opposite wall and shrugged it on as quickly as he could, then he grabbed his helmet and popped out the side door to fetch his dirt bike.

The trusty old two-wheeler rumbled eagerly to life, flinging an arc of gravel behind him as he took off in the direction of the fading plume. Patches of yellow-specked brittlebush stretched into blurred lines on either side of him, and he didn’t slow down until he reached the base of the Pahranagat Range, two miles west, where he spotted something emerging through a gap in the hills.

A rumpled sort of form, kicking up little clouds of dust as it moved.

Anakin parked and dismounted, yanking off his helmet and squinting against the sunset as he watched the figure approach.

“Hello there!” it called, raising an arm in an amicable wave.

It had a man’s voice. Friendly enough. Possibly accented. Rough though, as if it hadn’t been used in days.

Anakin itched with curiosity as the stranger came into better focus. He was dressed in brown and beige, a dark cloak of some sort hanging open down his front, its bottom hem whipping around his legs in the gusty desert wind. He walked with a slight hobble, his tousled hair bobbing with every other step, a shimmering halo of golden copper backlit by the sinking sun. A few steps closer and Anakin could make out a beard to match, but the face in the silhouette was still too dark to discern.

“Everything okay?” Anakin called back. It was a dumb question. Clearly there had been some sort of accident. Why hadn’t he called 9-1-1 the moment he’d seen the smoke? You’re an idiot, he told himself. That’s why.

“Ah… no? Not exactly,” the man eventually answered, navigating with care through a rocky patch of terrain as he closed the distance between them. When his feet found level ground, he dusted off his shoulders and thighs, the loose arms of his cloak flapping around cartoonishly with every flick of his wrist.

Anakin could have asked him to elucidate, but he was too distracted because what the actual hell was going on with this guy’s clothes? As if the robe wasn’t bizarre enough, beneath it was some kind of medieval old-timey tunic—or something—with a wide belt or sash or fucking cummerbund around his middle. And was that a tubular socket wrench dangling from his hip, just barely catching the light every time it slapped against his thigh? Did Anakin even want to know? The khaki pants might have been almost normal had they not been tucked into a pair of rust-colored knee-high boots. Boots that were burnished to an impeccable shine but somehow still looked like they’d carried the man through a war.

The newcomer was still looking down, preoccupied with some sort of debris caught in his enormous sleeve, when he slowed to a stop a few feet away from Anakin. “Had a rather… unpleasant landing in your mountains back there,” he said to the folds of fabric at the bend of his elbow. Then he gave the sleeve a final shake, looked up, and—

Jesus.

He was gorgeous.

Anakin tried not to stare, but how could he help it? The man’s honey colored hair was fluttering majestically over his forehead for fuck’s sake, caught by a breeze like he was in the middle of a goddamn GQ photoshoot. And good grief did he ever have the eyes for it—even in the nearing twilight they gleamed, soulful and bright and kind, blue or maybe green but so muted they looked gray. The texture of his skin and the lines by his eyes put him probably a decade or more ahead of Anakin, but what was age anyway? Those fine features flickered with curiosity, and Anakin—

Well, no. That probably wasn’t curiosity. More like…

Amusement?

Right.

Because Anakin was still staring.

He blinked and cleared his throat. “Yeah, kinda gathered that. I meant are you okay. Like, physically. Do I need to get you to a hospital or…?”

The man smiled, a pair of insufferably charming dimples digging into his cheeks beneath his beard. “No no, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “I’m alright. A bit bruised. A bit dusty. A few scrapes.” Somehow the voice that had sounded so gritty only seconds ago had woven itself into soft velvet. And there was an accent, Anakin noted, because of course there was. Something sort of… British? Maybe? Did it matter?

A few scrapes.

Anakin looked him up and down again. There was blood—in copious quantities, in fact—seeping through his pants. Though, considering the impact had been enough to shake the ground back at the airfield, perhaps it was a miracle the man was in one piece at all.

“Was anyone with you?”

The man shook his head. “No. No, just me.” He sounded exhausted.

“Right.” Anakin shifted his helmet from one elbow crook to the other and scratched the back of his head. “Well, it’s getting dark. I can get you to the airstrip—a couple miles east—and you can get cleaned up and rest for a bit. The cell signal isn’t great, but the office has a landline if you need it.”

“Oh. I… Thank you.” The man looked a bit confused. Handsome, but confused.

Anakin’s heart turned a little sideways. “Do you… have someone to call?” he asked.

“I—” The man’s brow furrowed. “Yes. But if you don’t have a hypertransceiver, I won’t be able to reach them.”

Anakin wondered if his new friend had sustained some sort of brain trauma. “Sorry, no… hypertransceiver,” he replied, doing his best to not sound patronizing. “But I can put you up for the night, if you don’t mind an old sofa and a bit of a draft.”

Read the rest of Chapter 1 (Out of the Blue) here 🙂

#Out of Place #my fic #obikin

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