Tumgik
#hope breaks forth like the dawn
everythingelseisextra · 9 months
Text
Commit to the Bit
Part One: Everything Is Fine
Part Three: Treasure The Memory
Description: Your first real meeting with Thomas Shelby does not go quite as planned. Warnings: Language Word Count: 1751 Author's Note: Each chapter will be progressively longer. PLEASE let me know what you think. Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @look-at-the-soul
You wake up a little before dawn.
The night air surrounds you, the windows open, as you sit and eat your pitiful breakfast in your pitiful kitchen, the cabinets stopping your chair from going too far back, the sink a little too close to the table. You wear the same clothes as the day before. Your body aches and your head rings from a faint hangover, and exhaustion ripples through you like chills. Through the windows, you can still see the moon, hovering above the horizon, faint in the gray light. 
You leave your house before the sun is fully up. Pale light filters into the hayloft windows, giving you some sight as you open the barn doors. The horses nicker to you, expecting their grain, weaving back and forth in their stalls or bobbing their elegant heads. You mindlessly fill their buckets with each individual’s specialized diet, mind elsewhere. 
Expect me tomorrow morning. 
When? How would he find the barn? You gave vague directions, hoping it would deter him. And, most importantly, what would he want once he got here? You couldn’t give him anything. You barely had enough to keep yourself going, to keep the days going. You worry that, although you have nothing to give, he’ll still decide to take. He’ll come with that bold intensity you saw the night before, and you’ll find yourself trapped, invisible walls closing in, with no strength to stand up.
Horses fed, you move on to saddling and riding your first horse. A stallion, with a sweeping, arched neck and muscles filled out to perfection, chestnut coat shining. He’s your stud, and you make some money off of selling his coverings. His registered name is Speed of Fire, ironic considering he was never fast enough to race, even before his injury, but you affectionately call him Draco. 
Dressage saddle girthed up, you swing your leg over his back and start your ride in the arena. You work through his warm up, making sure he stretches his body in the proper ways, then start asking for more intricate movements; canter pirouettes, passage, piaffe. Your breath comes short, your muscles tense and relax, your hips move with the motion of the horse, swinging. The sun rises. Faded warmth washes over you. It’s during these moments of synchrony when you forget who you are, forget your worries and the unsteady nature of your identity, and you get to focus solely on connection with another creature, communication so subtle it’s as though you’re reading each other’s minds. 
Halfway through your ride, you stop to give Draco a walking break and catch your breath. Your eyes scan the horizon above the hills, where deep pink and purple and bright, unending orange blend together as the sun makes its way up the sky. You glance towards the barn, where some of the horses watch you ride, having finished their hay, waiting for their turn. You look away, gathering your reins, preparing for another workout. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you halt your horse, head on a swivel to check around you. There, at the side of the arena, leaned up against the dusty metal railing, Thomas Shelby watches you quietly, his head tilted slightly, eyes tracking Draco’s movement. Your eyes meet, you on the towering stallion, but him taking up just as much presence with his expression alone. Air thins out around you, and you suck in a slow breath, not breaking contact with the stranger on your property. 
Then, as if possessed, your outside leg shifts back, and Draco steps quickly into a canter. Without thought, without planning, you find yourself doing what can only be described as showing off. Extended canter, collected canter. Tempi changes, canter pirouettes. You’re a finely tuned machine, each tiny movement a conversation with the horse, each silent shift eliciting a full response from him. 
By the time you’re done, Draco has sweat dripping down his neck, breathing hard, and lightheadedness swirls around you, making you take in slow breaths to steady yourself. You can feel his eyes on you, pointed, judgemental, and there’s a faint tremble in your hands gripping the reins. Staying on the horse gives you some protection; there’s not much someone can do to you while on horseback, unless he decides to shoot you, in which case, there’s nothing you can do. You trust Draco. He has a habit of pinning his ears and showing his teeth to strangers, snaking his neck towards them, though you’ve tried to train it out of him. Some stallions always have an edge to them.
You walk Draco to the arena gate, reaching out to push it open, but Thomas is already there, pulling it back to allow you out. You nod your head to him, voice once again stuck in your throat, branding you with the poetry of all the words you couldn’t speak. This time, though, your heart doesn’t jolt, your mind doesn’t go blank. He’s on your turf now.
“Beautiful animal.” He nods to Draco curtly as you walk by, as if unimpressed by your show of talent. His words defy him. “Beautiful ride.”
You nod again. Thanking him feels like handing him your power, like bowing your head and allowing him to judge. This is a game of reading silence, and you know how to win it. After a moment of hesitation, you dismount. You bring your horse over to the cross ties and tie him, giving him a treat from your pocket once the bit is out of his mouth. Thomas’ footsteps follow you, but you refuse to look at him, focusing on undoing the girth and pulling the saddle off. In your periphery, he stands, a dark figure surrounded by the grandeur of a sunrise in full force, undeserving of the golden outline it gives him. His hands in his coat pockets, his gaze on Draco, his cap pulled low over his eyes. Again, you catch a glint of metal along the rim. 
“Is he for sale?” He walks up to Draco’s neck, running a hand along the sweaty length of his neck. 
“No.” You turn and carry the saddle to the tack room, hefting it onto a rack and placing the pads on the rail underneath it to dry. You return to find Thomas by the horse’s head. You pause, watching them, hoping to go unnoticed. As usual, the stallion’s ears go back, his nose wrinkles, his neck arches. Thomas nods, continuing to stroke his neck, and says something you don’t understand. Another language, perhaps, one that sounds smooth, lyrical. Draco quiets, his liquid eye softening, though his ears stay pinned. Protective, not aggressive.
“He doesn’t trust you.” You walk over to grab a hose, waiting for Thomas to move so you can rinse the sweat off Draco. 
He doesn’t. “Name a price. I’ll meet it.”
“No.” You step forward, raising the hose, trying to make your intent clear. 
“Horse like him could get you out of a little house like that.” His fingers toy with Draco’s mane, still gentle, still looking into the horse’s eye. “Got no reason not to sell him.”
“He’s not for sale,” you insist, taking another step forward. 
His eyes shift to you, clear, icy blue and unreadable. “You don’t know who I am.”
“No. I don’t.” You point the hose towards him, a clear threat. “Move, please.”
“I’ll take you into town, then. Help you recon—”
You turn on the hose. A deluge of water sprays onto him, square in the chest, and he skitters out of the way, spooking Draco into a prance. You stand there, shocked by what you just did, then, in a spark of bravery you didn’t know you had, decide to commit to the bit. 
“You don’t get to intimidate me into selling my horse. You don’t get to decide that I’m going into town with you. Those are both my choices.” One hand on the still-running hose, the other preparing to kink it, you shift your shoulders to stand square in the soaked face of Thomas. “I don’t care who you are. Someone who doesn’t treat me with basic respect doesn’t deserve my time. Are we clear?”
Your heart pounds in your chest as his furious eyes turn to you. Holding his arms away from his dripping body, the layers of the suit completely wet, his hand slowly reaches up towards his cap. 
You step back, readying your hose, your only weapon. Blood pulses in your temples, all air seems to leave your lungs, and your hand begins to tremble as you wait for him to lunge. 
Instead, he wipes his face with it, then nods. “Really fucking clear.” 
“Good.” You kink the hose and shakily walk to turn it off. Back turned to him, you hold out your hands, watching them shudder with the spike of adrenaline. Then, slowly, you walk back, catching a moment of hilarity as Thomas attempts to squeeze water out of his suit and fails. You don’t quite feel safe enough to smile, but, at least, you feel a little better. 
“We can turn him out,” you say, nodding to Draco. “And I’ll get you a towel.”
“Turn him out,” he repeats, tense brow furrowing. 
“Put him in the arena and let him be a horse for a bit. No expectations.”
“Never heard of that.”
“Apparently you haven’t heard of much,” you snap. 
His eyes flick to you, almost brooding. You’ve never seen light eyes hold so much darkness. “Don’t bother with the towel. I’ll go.”
“Fine.” You turn back to Draco. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Shelby.”
He scoffs, and starts off towards his car, parked in the dusty valley your property sits in. In your mind, a dialectic is born. You feel relieved, glad that you’ll never see him again. And, deep down, you’re disappointed. Maybe this could’ve been something more. Maybe you could’ve won a friend out of it. 
No. Stupid of you to have expected that. You are constantly looking for hope, expecting it to be soft and gentle, when in reality, hope is something with sharp teeth and a bloody, battered body. Hope is something that’s born of isolation. Hope is something man-made, purposeful, something you keep in a jar like a butterfly, and catch more once it dies. 
Hope is a man speaking gently to a fearful, aggressive horse, instead of punishing him. 
You shake your head. Stupid. 
But you can’t help but watch as the car drives off, hoping it will turn back. 
545 notes · View notes
cerys-scribbles · 4 months
Text
we save each other
Halsin x F!Reader Wordcount: 2.4k When Orin takes Halsin, you are determined to get him back - no matter the cost. Warnings: blood, injuries
The temple of Bhaal smells of damp stone and blood.
It’s oppressive—the weigh of stone all around, the scent of old and new blood, the whispers, and the sense of being watched. After the nautiloid, the shadow curse, and the assault on Moonrise, you thought no place could truly rattle you.
You were wrong. Because this temple is wrong. And you want nothing more than to leave it. 
But can’t. Because Orin took the one thing she knows you can’t lose. 
“Come on,” you whisper to the others. Shadowheart has a hand on her weapon; Gale looks thoroughly unsettled; even Lae’zel appears uneasy. 
When you enter the temple, you see the altar. Orin is standing over it, her hand caressing the side of his broad face. Your heart lurches in your chest at the sight of him bound and unconscious. 
“Halsin,” you breathe. 
Orin lifts her gaze to yours and offers the kind of smile normally seen on skulls. 
You have little memory of what follows after that. You snarl a challenge, bring up your weapon, and then all the hells seem to break loose. Gale is snarling spells, Shadowheart whirling as she parries blow after blow, and Lae’zel charges through the ranks of Bhaal’s faithful like a battering ram. 
But your eyes are the on the altar. 
You fight alongside your companions until you can reach him. Then you’re at his side, a knife in hand. 
“Halsin,” you say urgently. You touch his cheek, trying to rouse him. 
He must have been drugged. You can think of no other way that Orin could have taken and held him. At the urgent sound of your voice, his eyes flicker open. He seems to be making a great effort to drag himself to consciousness. His eyes are glazed, his lips soundlessly forming your name. You set your blade against the ropes and saw through the bindings around his wrists. “I’m here,” you say. “You’re all right.” 
It takes a moment for him to find his voice. “You came.”
“Of course I did.” The ropes are infuriatingly thick and you drag your knife back and forth, fraying them. “You had any doubt?” 
There is a moment’s hesitation, and it has little to do with his drugged state. He did doubt, you realize. He must have thought he would die down here, sacrificed like so many others. A fierce protectiveness wells up within you. When you’re both free of this place, you are going to tell him precisely how loved he truly is. 
The ropes give way and you free his wrists, trying to rub blood and sensation back into his hands. He begins to sit up, but you press him down. “Rest a moment. Then we’ll—”
You feel the impact first. It’s like being hit with a rock—but then comes the chill and the utter wrongness of it. 
Halsin’s eyes widen. All of the drugged lassitude falls away from him and he rolls over, his ankles catching on the bindings. His hands reach for you. No, not for you—you realize—but for the dagger protruding from your chest. 
One of the cultists was invisible and he came up behind you. You turn, raising your weapon to try and defend you both, but the world tilts sideways. 
You can’t collapse. You have to keep him safe. You have to free him.
You fall. There is the distant sound of an animal roar, the clashing of steel, and the smell of coppery blood. 
Then, nothing.
*
Halsin has seen many beautiful things in his long life—the golden hue of dawn creeping across the old forest, the rarest of flowers blooming in moonlight, the sharp cut of lightning across a stormy sky. 
But none of those sights compare to this. To her. 
She kneels down beside him, as though the chaos all around them is nothing. A knife flickers between her fingers and she begins to free him.
She came for him. 
Part of him had hoped—no, he had yearned—to see her again. But Halsin has long been a protector, not the protected. He learned to fend for himself at a young age. Her rescue of him from the goblins was a welcome surprise. After Aradin fled, Halsin thought no aid would be coming. But she did come for him—not just once, but twice. 
He should have known better than to underestimate her, he thinks, as her hair falls around them both. She frees his arms, and then she is massaging circulation into his sore hands. 
Gentle, always so gentle. So caring. He has never met anyone with such a gentle heart. It’s why he fell in love with her. And he does love her, even if he has not found the moment to tell her yet. There were always other priorities—the shadow curse, the tadpoles, the missions. There would always be time later, he told himself. But then he was kidnapped, and he realized belatedly how precious their little time together has been. He should have told her everything: how he treasures their conversations, how beautiful she is, how her kind heart is a rarity.
And now she is beside him, hope blossoming between them. Once they are free of this place, he will tell her everything.  
But then a cultist appears and drives a knife through her back. She makes a small sound, as though the breath has been taken from her. She looks more confused than pained, and when she glances down, it is with a line between her delicate brows. 
“No!” The word is yanked from his lips. It is a raw and agonized denial. A plea. 
When she falls, it seems to take an eternity—as though time itself cannot bear to see her injured.
A fury such as he has never known howls through him. 
The animal takes him and he welcomes the change. The ropes binding his legs snap, and Halsin lunges for the cultist. Bone and muscle give way between his jaws, and he tastes fresh blood. Another cultist lunges and Halsin kills him, too. Everything is a blur of adrenaline and fear and violence. He has rarely allowed the change to take him so thoroughly, but right now animal fury is the best weapon he possesses. 
Once the cultists have been driven back, Halsin looks back at her. 
She lays on her side, hair fallen across her face. She needs the man, not the beast. With a great effort, he changes back. It feels wrong; his instincts are screaming that he needs to be the bear to protect her.
“Stay with me, love,” he whispers, kneeling beside her. He turns her over, taking her gently in his arms. 
His magic is sluggish; his body is still fighting to rid itself of the damn potions that kept him docile. 
“Oak Father,” he murmurs, pressing his hand to her wound. “If you only ever answer one of my prayers, let it be this one. Please, give me the strength to save her.” His throat tightens painfully. “And if I cannot, keep her safe until we can meet again.” 
He spell takes hold. Her flesh slowly knits back together, but he doesn’t release the spell. He needs to ensure that the internal injuries will heal, that she will not bleed from within. 
He pours all of his magic into her, every last bit of strength he has. And when that runs out, he simply holds her.
All around him, the room has gone silent. Orin lays dead, a sword wound in her chest. Lae’zel flicks her blade free of blood with a contemptuous snarl. She snarls a curse in her tongue, and even if he cannot understand it, Halsin agrees completely. 
“How is she?” Gale rushes over, kneeling by Halsin. 
“I don’t know,” Halsin replies. “But we should get her someplace safe.” 
*
They retreat to a place called the Elfsong Tavern. Gale explains that they took rooms here, and while it is no forest, it’s more comfortable and safe that sleeping on the city streets. Halsin eases her onto a bed, sitting back so that Shadowheart can work. Her spells reinforce his, and her brows draw tight as she murmurs a silent prayer. Halsin tries not to hover, but he will not leave. He cannot leave.
When Shadowheart finishes, she sits back. She is breathing a little unsteadily, having spent much of her own power.
“Well?” asks Astarion. He lingers in the doorway, looking a bit like a stray cat that cannot decide if he wants in or out. “Will she survive? Or do we need to resurrect Orin so Lae’zel can kill her again?”
“She needs time,” says Shadowheart. “For the spells to take, for her own body to take up some of the healing.” Her gaze meets Halsin’s. “She’s past the worst of it, I think. You managed to keep her from bleeding out back in the temple."
Halsin bits down on his lip. He should have been able to do more. If he had not been drugged, that wound would have been healed in a matter of moments.
She came to rescue him, and she nearly paid for his life with her own. The thought makes him feel sick to his stomach. “I’ll stay with her,” says Halsin, settling at her bedside.
The night passes slowly. 
The others come and go. Astarion stops by with more blankets while Wyll ducks out to buy more healing potions. Shadowheart urges Halsin to bathe, promising to watch over her in the meantime. He goes, if only to scrub away the blood and the smell of captivity. He changes into clean clothes and returns to his beloved’s bedside. 
She sleeps fitfully. Sweat beads at her brow and her eyes roam beneath her lids. “My heart,” he murmurs, taking her hand in his. “Rest easy. You’re safe.” 
Finally, near dawn, she wakes. 
She tries to speak, but it comes out dry and raspy. “Just a moment,” says Halsin, reaching for a pitcher of water. He pours a small cup, holding it to her lips. She looks as though she wants to protest that she can sit up and drink on her own, but her arm shakes. Her fingers still curl around his, as though to maintain an illusion of control. But when she’s finished drinking, she looks exhausted.
Halsin lowers her back into the pillows, rearranging the blankets around her. 
“What happened?” she asks. “Did everyone make it out all right? Are you hurt?” 
Of course she is more concerned with the others than herself. “Everyone made it out,” he says. 
She reaches for one of his wrists. There are still red marks where the ropes rubbed his skin raw. “You haven’t healed yourself.”
He turns his wrist so that he can take her hand. Hers are so much smaller. “You needed the magic more.” She frowns at him, as though she wants to protest. Halsin smooths her hair back with his free hand. “Sleep. You should rest.” 
She closes her eyes and leans into his touch. “What about you?” 
“I’ll meditate in a little while,” he says. 
Her frown deepens. Then she shifts in her bed, making as though to sit up. He places a hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Moving over,” she says. “Or, trying to.” She pats the place beside her. “Please. The bed is more than big enough for both of us. That chair looks terribly uncomfortable.” 
It’s true. This is one of those large, goose feather and linen affairs. 
He bites back his protests—that he doesn’t wish to harm her by accident, that he doesn’t need sleep. Instead, he carefully lays down beside her. She lets out a small sigh, and curls into him. 
She feels so small beside him. So fragile. 
“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispers. “When Orin came to me and said you’d been taken.”
Halsin wraps an arm around her. He had wished to save this for a time when she is well, but he has wasted far too much time already. “I feared the same.” He takes a breath. His heart pounds with uncertainty, but he needs to say it. “When you were injured... I realized how much time I have wasted. There are things I want to tell you."
She lifts her gaze to his. “You can tell me anything.”
His hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking back and forth. "I love you.” He feels her go still but he forces himself to continue. “I should have said so before, when the nights were calmer. When we might have stolen away for a few hours to ourselves. When we weren’t in a city on the brink of war. But even if the words have come too late, I have to tell you that I love you. You are a wonder and even if you don’t feel the same, I want you to know.”
He half expects her to pull away. But instead, she snuggles closer. “You should have said something earlier, it’s true,” she murmurs. “Or I should have been brave enough to say it first. One of us should have spoken up sooner.” She kisses his hand, and the touch burns through him. “I love you, too.”
Joy fills him. It has been years since he felt such unbridled happiness—there are no demands on him, no responsibilities other than this. He will keep her safe, ensure that she comes through the coming battles alive. “We will live through this,” he murmurs, pulling her close. “I promise you that. And once you are well…”
He hears the smile in her voice. “What are we going to do?” 
He kisses her hair. “Many things, my heart. Many, many things.”
*
When you wake, you’re still in Halsin’s arms.
It is like sleeping near a fire, but not unpleasantly so. You’re cozy beneath the blankets, his arms around you and your face turned into the pillow. You feel a little dizzy, a little giddy. You can’t quite believe that Halsin is beside you, that he loves you as much as you love him. You can’t help yourself; you snuggle closer.
The moment you stir, he rouses. “You’re awake.”
“I am,” you say. Your voice sounds a little rusty from sleep. “How long have I been out?”
“That does not matter. You need the rest,” he says so firmly that you cannot protest. He smooths a hand over your forehead. “No fever, that’s a good sign. How’s the pain?”
You gingerly touch the bandages around your chest. There’s a deep ache, but you know it’ll fade with time. “Not so bad.”
“You’re staying in bed for a few more hours,” he says. “The others are out shopping and collecting information on something to do with rescuing Wyll’s father.”
Your heart lurches. You try to sit up. “I need to help—”
“You will,” he says, gently pressing you back down into the mattress. “But you must recover first. I’ll speak with the others, and don’t fear, my heart, when we go out to rescue Duke Ravengard, you’ll be there.” 
That mollifies you a little. You know he wouldn’t lie to you, even for the sake of keeping you safe. “All right.” Your stomach gurgles loudly and you flush.
“And I’ll see about breakfast,” Halsin says, smiling. 
He begins to rise from the bed, but you catch his hand. “Hey.”
Halsin looks back at you, a question in his eyes. 
“Thank you,” you say. “For taking care of me.”
His face softens. He kneels beside the bed. “Thank you. For always rescuing me.”
You kiss him—and it doesn’t feel like the first time. It feels natural, like slipping into a comfortable shirt. You both fit together perfectly. “We rescue each other,” you whisper. 
End
354 notes · View notes
stevesbipanic · 3 months
Text
@steddiemas Day 26: Fake Dating
Tumblr media
Steve was ready for Hawkins to open up again and for the Upside Down to swallow him whole. Christmas was meant to be fun, well at least it was supposed to be fun now that he spent it with the Buckley's. Right now though he was glaring at his boyfriend and best friend across the table. Or wait not his boyfriend this evening, no tonight, Eddie was Robin's boyfriend.
Steve could only blame himself he supposed, one for loving the two idiots that were currently badly suppressing giggles and two because it was all because of what he'd said last week.
One week earlier...
"Robin, just tell your mom you're a lesbian or I'm not coming to Christmas lunch next week."
"Steve I can't do that do you want to ruin Christmas!?"
"She was already fine with me being bisexual she's not going to send you to hell, that's why we tested her with me in the first place!"
"No, I'm not ready!"
"Well I can't sit through another Christmas of your mom suggesting a Spring wedding!"
"You're my boy space friend can't we just let her live in a fantasy world where she marries into the Harrington's?"
"I don't even want to be one!"
"Could pop down to the courthouse and become a Munson, baby," Eddie supplied watching the back and forth while blatantly stealing from the candy display.
Steve gave him a deadpan look, "You need to propose to me better than that, Eds. No, Robin that's it I'm not going, I'm not being your boyfriend anymore!"
"What am I meant to do then, she'll be asking about you all day!"
"I'll do it!" Eddie exclaimed.
"Do what?" The other two asked giving him a questioning look.
"No, stop I hate when you do that twin thing it's creepy. And I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas, Birdie."
Which brought Steve to now. It had seemed like a brilliant idea, one Steve could enjoy his Christmas lunch peacefully being the golden boy of the table as Mrs Buckley dawned over him and two, no boyfriend questions. There was also the added bonus that lesbianism might seem like a better option than the town's drug dealer in the Buckley's minds. What Steve hadn't counted on, was the Buckley's loving Eddie.
"Oh, you're in a band that's so lovely, you know I played tamborine for a band back when I was your age, we thought we were going to be a big girl group."
"I hear you're working over at Thatcher's son, they're good men there you're certainly going to learn a lot."
Steve had been relegated to peeling the potatoes while Eddie was literally putting his feet up in the living room. He felt like the middle child of a family that just got a newborn baby, how dare Eddie steal his pseudo parents. What was worse was that Robin was finding this hilarious.
"Oh poor Stevie Wevie are you sad mom's not asking about how EMT school is going?"
"Yes! I had such a fun fake heart attack story she was gonna love." Steve pouted and for a moment he thought about stomping his foot in protest.
"Hey, it's ok, next year I promise I'll have told them, and Edward over there can come as your boyfriend, ok?" Robin reassured wrapping an arm around him.
Steve guessed that he could give up being the favourite this time, and it was nice seeing people be kind to Eddie, it hadn't been easy after Spring Break. It didn't stop him shooting daggers whenever Eddie and Robin decided to reassure Steve at lunch that he'd find someone nice eventually.
Steve and Eddie waved goodbye after lunch, promising to visit soon and hopped into the van.
"Have fun?"
"Oh yeah, I think Janice is already planning the Spring wedding."
"Well, I hope you enjoyed getting fawned over because we've got dinner with Wayne now, and guess who's his favourite?"
"Just because you know the difference between the Chiefs and the Packers, I'm his own blood and the minute you're there it's like I'm chopped liver!" Eddie exclaimed as they drove towards the trailer park.
Lunch had been interesting but he was very glad it was over as he laughed and slid his fingers between Eddie's between them, happy that he had his boyfriend back.
Ao3
279 notes · View notes
aerahyasashi · 2 days
Note
Hi queen aerah! I'm a follower from quotev and i really love your works especially divine punishment 🩷🫶🏻 i was hoping to request something, if you accept ofcourse, if you do then could you please do a yandere suguru one?🥰
Tumblr media
𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆.”
Tumblr media
╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Nanako and Mimiko asks you the reason as to why you’re wearing a blindfold, and what they found out chilled them to the bone, as they realized the truth about your blindness.
╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere stuff, Medical description of stuff, Manipulation, Drugging, Forced Blindness (Lmao)
╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Oblivious! Blind! Reader
╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I do not support or approve of any of the behaviors and actions depicted in this story. The content is intended solely for entertainment purposes. Hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated<3. Kinda mid ig? Not rlly satisfied abt this. I'll do the other reqs next once i get the motivation to write<3
Tumblr media
You softly hummed a tune while sitting on the plush mattress, feeling Nanako gently brush your hair.   Mimiko was lounging on your lap as she stared at the ceiling.
“Your hair is so soft mama.. like silk”
Nanako said, admiration tinging in her voice at the softness of your hair, showering you with compliments as she held the right section in her hand and the left in her left hand, leaving the middle section loose. 
Despite having no vision, you could feel her lips curling into a smile and it made a small smile to appear on your lip.
“Thank you, Nanako.” You said softly.
The bond between you, Nanako, and Mimiko had grown strong over time, as they were practically adopted by Suguru, your husband, and raised as his own.  Despite Nanako and Mimiko’s bratty tendencies, they showed genuine kindness and affection towards you.
Nanako, in particular, often displayed a more bratty attitude, while Mimiko seemed content to follow her lead like her loyal minion. It was reminiscent of the classic dynamic between a popular girl and her devoted sidekick.
However, despite that, you loved them too, and treats them as your own daughters.
“Mama, can I ask you something?”
Nanako’s sudden inquiry cut through the air, her eyes searching for affirmation as she sucked in a deep breath and stole a fleeting glance at Mimiko. Without breaking eye contact with you, she searched your expression for any signs of discomfort, to know if you are comfortable with her asking you questions.
“Hm? Ofcourse,” You replied.
Curiosity danced in your mind as you could feel Nanako’s hesitant demeanor. Even without sight, the slight hastening of her heartbeat was a sign of her nerves. Sensory perception was your gift, something that helped you a lot, because you don’t really have a vision.
“Well...” Nanako trailed off, unsure of how to start.
“Don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”
You gently reached out, your fingers seeking hers, your lips parted when you felt the texture beneath your touch felt different—It wasn’t Nanako's hand you held, but Mimiko’s.
“...wait, your hands feels different.. wait no, these are mimiko’s”
The sudden awareness painted your cheeks with a blush of embarrassment, a mix of confusion and awkwardness mingling in your expression.
As the realization dawned on you, Nanako's suppressed laughter bubbled forth, a ghost of a smile gracing Mimiko's features. A reassuring squeeze of your hand conveyed understanding and acceptance. “It's okay,” Mimiko's silent gesture seemed to say.
Apologizing sheepishly for your mistake, you couldn't deny the lingering embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, hoping to dissipate the awkwardness that hung between you.
“Didn’t see that, sorry girls.” You chuckled.
“Mama, stop with the blind jokes.” Nanako deadpanned, watching you rub the taut muscles on the back of your neck awkwardly.
“Right..”
“Um, right... What was it you were going to ask, Nanako?” You quickly shifted the conversation, eager to move past the momentary misstep.
“Well...”
Nanako hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat, her gaze fixed on you as her fingers gently ran through your hair.
“Why do you always wear a blindfold?”
The room fell silent, the weight of her question hanging in the air. 
Confusion clouded your expression as you searched for the right words to respond. The idea of why you wear the blindfold had never crossed your mind, as it was just a part of your daily routine. After all, you were blind, and the blindfold didn't make much of a difference in your world of darkness. All you knew was that Suguru had made it clear that it should never be removed—and you had no desire to provoke him.
Nanako could sense your discomfort as she observed your tense body language. Worried that she may have touched a nerve, she inquired tentatively, “Are you okay mama? You seemed agitated...”
“Nanako...” Mimiko began, her own brows knitting in concern. “That’s quite a sensitive question, don't you think?” She spoke softly, trying to redirect the conversation. 
Realizing her misstep, Nanako quickly shook her head and apologized, burying her face in the crook of your neck, her features partially obscured by your hair. “Ah.. I’m sorry mama! I didn’t realized that i was being insensitive...”
“It's okay,” you reassured her awkwardly, letting out a nervous chuckle as you cleared your throat.
“You’re not mad?” She asked, her voice soft and vulnerable as she pulled away from you, her eyes wide and pleading. Her puppy eyes looked up at you, brimming with an innocence that would have probably tugged at your heartstrings—only if you could see it.
“Hm..? ‘course not, don’t worry," you assured her, a gentle smile playing on your lips.
“‘S fine, really,” you said, your tone calm and reassuring.
“Ah.. right, about your previous question...Well, the reason I wear the blindfold is because Suguru told me to.”
“Huh..? Why would Geto-sama want you to wear a blindfold?”
Nanako’s perplexed tone cut through the air like a sharp blade, her confusion palpable. In her mind, she had painted Suguru as one who adored gazing into one’s eyes, the windows to one’s soul. But now, she couldn’t fathom the reasoning behind concealing them, especially when blindness couldn’t erase the existence of your eyes.
“I... Don’t know...” you trailed off as the room fell into an uneasy silence.
The silence was eventually shattered by Mimiko’s voice, breaking through the tension.
“Geto-sama says that you have the prettiest eyes that he has ever seen.” she chimed in, her gaze flitting between you and Nanako. A subtle shift in her posture saw her abandoning her spot on your lap, choosing instead to perch on the plush mattress.
“Huh? Geto-sama saw mama’s eyes?” Nanako asked, looking flabbergasted.
“Nanako, He’s her husband.” Mimiko reminded her twin sister.
“Right...”
“But then.. if he likes your eyes so much, why would he want you to hide them?” Mimiko’s words cut through the haze of confusion.
Your brows drew together, shoulders slightly slouching.
“I suppose that remains a mystery,” you finally replied, your voice laced with a tinge of curiosity and apprehension.
Mimiko and Nanako studied you curiously, wondering what your eyes truly looked like. Were they as beautiful as Suguru had described? However, they had never been permitted to remove your blindfold, and they weren’t the type to disobey Suguru. Despite their bratty tendencies, they were obedient. 
But then, What secrets actually lay behind that blindfold? They were tempted to take a look, Yet, the girls remained restrained by their loyalty to Suguru, reluctance staining their disobedient thoughts. 
“Perhaps he prefers it that way?” you mused, resting your head on your palms and propping your elbow on your thigh.
“I’m not really sure, if i’m gonna be honest.. he just likes it that way i guess.”
“I can’t even remember how I lost my vision too.”
You had no recollection of how you lost your sight, as your memories seemed to have vanished without a trace. All you knew was that Suguru was your husband, and he claimed that you had lost your memories due to your immune system attacking your eyes. 
According to him, your immune system had somehow identified your eyes as a threat, leading to inflammation and damage that resulted in your blindness. He insisted that there was a scientific basis for this too, as the immune system would attack the eye once it recognized its existence.  
And ofcourse, as the dumb little thing you are, you Believed him.
“Mama, are you okay?” Mimiko’s concerned voice breaks through the fog of your thoughts, drawing your attention. 
You compose yourself, managing a smile.
“I’m fine,” you reassure her softly.
Nanako’s eyes are searching, her worry palpable. “Are you sure?” she presses gently.
You can’t help but be touched by their concern, feeling a warmth blossoming in your chest. Meeting their gazes, you offer another smile.
“I promise, my loves, I truly am okay,” you say, a hint of laughter in your voice as you reach out to embrace them both. 
A surge of gratitude sweeps over you as you hold them close, basking in their presence.
“Having you two by my side and a husband who supports me tirelessly every day, I couldn’t ask for more,” you whisper.
“Life is tough, but atleast i have you all.”
Dumb little you was so oblivious and didn’t knew that suguru was the reason why your life was tough.
If only you had been aware that he was the mastermind behind all of this. He orchestrated the entire scheme that led to your memory loss and deceived you into believing he was your husband. It was also because of him that you lost your sight, although you were too dumb to realize it at the time. 
Suguru was deeply enamored with you and the two of you were once in a romantic relationship. However, when you decided to break up with him, his feelings of love turned into obsession. He resorted to disturbing and dangerous tactics to make sure you stayed with him—Such as manipulating and drugging you, all in the name of his overwhelming love for you as he was unable to bear the thought of losing you.  
It may have been your mistake to allow him into your life, however. Perhaps if you had declined Satoru’s invitation to hang out with him and Suguru, you would have never crossed paths with him. Maybe if you had refused to give Suguru your number or declined the love letters he presented, things would be different.
You wouldn’t be in this situation.
After embracing the girls tightly, you gently released them and affectionately patted their heads. Your expression brightened as you spoke,
“I’ll just show you how they look like to satisfy your curiosity, ‘kay?”
Nanako and Mimiko both eagerly nodded in agreement.  
“I bet they’re really pretty just as Geto-Sama says!” Nanako says and Mimiko nods in agreement.
“.. Suguru shouldn’t mind, at least I hope not,” you muttered under your breath.
With a deliberate motion, you gently lifted the blindfold with a slender finger, allowing just a sliver of sight for Mimiko and Nanako to catch a glimpse of your eyes. The room grew eerily silent as the two girls eagerly leaned in, their gazes fixed upon your mysterious orbs.
However, what they beheld was beyond their wildest imaginations, shattering their preconceived notions. Their eyes widened in disbelief, their pupils constricting in shock as a chilling wave of fear washed over them. Their jaws slackened.
Your eyes were tightly sewn together by a thick black thread infused with cursed energy. The thread was so tightly wound, and your eyelids were merged together, giving the appearance of eyes belonging to a puppet with carefully stitched features.
That was when they realized that you weren’t actually blind.
Nanako’s throat constricted as a strangled gasp clawed at her lips, her heart hammering violently against her ribcage. Mimiko’s body tensed, a tremor coursing through her frame as her eyes widened in sheer horror.
Suguru’s presence seemed to loom unnoticed until that moment, as he loitered casually by the door, propped against the wall with a nonchalant air, his head cocked to one side, observing them with a detached interest.
He was just there the whole moment you three were talking, completely silent and just watching.
A shiver ran down the two girl’s spines as their gazes collided. Suguru’s lips curled up in a knowing smirk, his ice-cold eyes staring at them as he brought a finger to his own lips as he mouths something.
“Can you keep a secret?”
127 notes · View notes
george-weasleys-girl · 6 months
Note
Amoree
Can i request a fic/drabble or whatever u wanna do with this:
f!reader x Fred Weasley (they're dating)
The twins have left school and when Harry, Ron and Hermione go to the WWW, the reader goes with the trio
As Fred and she are away for a while, the situation gets a little "strange" at first (I got this idea from Amy and Peralta) Fred doesnt know much what to do, thinking if she missed him as he felt her. Everything is solved and she's leaving with the trio but is fluff more fluff
if you need a prompt "Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back." pleaseee♥️i love you and you're amazing (I'm sleepy and wrote too much so maybe have wrong words sorry)
Thank you so much, lovely🥰
I'm not familiar with the reference, so I hope this turns out as you were envisioning it.
Hello Again
Fred Weasley x fem!reader
Warnings: one curse word
Tumblr media
Fred paced back and forth, pausing every few minutes to stare out the window. Almost three months had passed since he had last seen Y/N. She stood on the ramparts of the castle, blowing him a kiss as he and George flew off into the night. After that, they'd exchanged a few letters here and there, but he'd been busy getting the shop up and running, and Y/N was wrapped up studying for her N.E.W.T.S.
So, it made sense that their correspondences were sporadic and brief. At least, that's what Fred kept telling himself. But, the truth was, deep down, he worried that time and distance were pulling her away from him.
~•~
Harry, Ron, and Hermione bounced through the door with Y/N following behind, a nervous smile plastered onto her face. At first, she'd been so excited to see Fred again. It felt like ages since she'd heard his voice or melted into one of his all-encompassing hugs. However, the closer it got to their visit, the more apprehensive she grew. The letters between them in the past months had seemed so formal and distant. She knew he was busy with the shop and everything, but her paranoid mind couldn't help wondering if he was falling out of love with her.
~•~
"So, umm... this is the apartment," Fred waved around the room. After an awkward, uncertain hug, he'd given Y/N the "grand tour," and now they stood in the living room of his and George's flat.
"It's nice, very comfy," Y/N took in the room that held an old, ratty sofa that looked like one from the Burrow and a couple of rickety chairs.
"We've got better furniture on order," he commented.
Y/N nodded, turning back Fred. "It really is nice."
"Yeah, yeah," Fred stammered. "Would you, um, like to sit down?"
"Ok," Y/N replied.
"Anything to drink?"
"No thanks, I'm good."
Fred nodded and sat beside her. "So, yeah... " His words trailed off and he turned his gaze away from her. "Are we, you know...?"
"I - I don't know," she looked up at him. "Are we?"
"I hope so," he said, meeting her gaze. "But your letters were really short and kinda... I don't know..." He shrugged, unable to find the right words.
"I knew you were busy, and I didn't want to bother you with big, long letters."
Fred blinked in surprise. "You wouldn't have bothered me, love! I thought you were rethinking our relationship."
"I thought the same about you," Y/N countered. "Your letters didn't exactly instill a lot of confidence either."
"I knew you were studying for your N.E.W.T.S and I... " Fred stopped, realization dawning. "We're really fucking stupid."
Y/N snorted. "Yeah. We really are."
"I'm glad we're not breaking up," Fred said.
"Me too."
"So, umm, I was wondering," Fred began with a grin. "Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back."
Y/N giggled. "You can have all the kisses, my love."
~•~
@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @charmedfandomgal @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass @lizzytrees @spididerman @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @whotfskai @netflix-addict @lunacurlclaw
176 notes · View notes
undiscovered-horizon · 6 months
Text
"She is not a bird" - Hvitserk x Reader
Tumblr media
SUMMARY: In Eddas, every great warrior falls in love with a Valkyrie - a winged goddess equally beautiful and imposing. Hvitserk finds his after a battle as she's stitching wounds and bringing comfort to those who will not see another dawn.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k
In a colourful dress, she busses around, Time and time she turns her head, gives a smile, You could swear you saw her wings yesterday, How she hid them under the dress, But she’s not a bird, Can’t you see? She is not a bird.
Hvitserk has no interest in medicine or healing. Despite that, he has found himself watching one of the healers as she’s running back and forth between beds. She’s been at it for hours now and Hvitserk begins to wonder how come she’s not tired yet. Her feet and hands are equally quick as they had been when they arrived at the camp after the battle. The mesmerising glint in her eyes, something between curiosity and adoration, is still just as bright. Whenever one of the wounded warriors wants to talk to her, she sits at the edge of their bed. Her head nods gently before her lips curl into a reassuring smile and she says something in return. Maybe she’ll even chuckle at something. From where he’s standing, Hvitserk can’t make out her words but he can quite clearly see the faces of the people she’s talking to and it makes his curiosity consume him entirely to know what words turn agony into peace.
Lost in his own thoughts, the young Viking doesn’t notice jarl Friedgeir approaching him. 
“Enchanting, isn’t she?” he asks with a smirk. He’s seen this scenario one too many times to have any doubts about what Hvitserk is thinking about. Friedgeir himself has been in that very same position before.
Friedgeir Esrason is nimble for his age. White and silver hair circles his tired face like a halo. Sun-damaged skin makes him appear even older, although fuller of life. It’s a testimony of long days spent on adventures, seeing what the world has to offer. Despite nearing grandfather’s age, his torso is broad and his arms are about the size of a shieldmaiden’s thigh. Brass bracelets clink every time he moves his hands. The purple material of his tunic is clearly worn out, tearing in places of the most friction.
“She is,” Hvitserk admits.
Jarl puts his heavy hand on Hvitserk’s shoulder. For a moment, the young warrior wonders if Friedgeir could actually crush his bones should he squeeze his fingers a little tighter. 
“Can I entrust a secret to you, son of Ragnar?” Friedgeir asks in a low tone. His grey eyes look around the two of them as though expecting to find a prying set of ears. Everyone besides them appeared too preoccupied with their own duties and worries to care about the gossip shared between the Jarl and the famous Lothbrok boy.
Hvitserk looks at the older man with a frown.
“My brothers and I have risked our lives for your cause, Jarl Friedgeir,” he reminds the ruler. “I have no interest in breaking your trust. You know that already.”
“Good.” Friedgeir pats Hvitserk’s shoulder. He must be unaware of his strength as the gentle slaps are actually quite forceful, making Hvitserk answer his own question about crushing bones. Friedgeir can definitely turn someone’s skeleton into dust with a squeeze. “My wife mustn’t ever hear what I’m about to tell you. That girl…” he makes a pause and points his finger at the healer, “I think she might be a bird.”
Taken aback, Hvitserk looks up and down the Jarl.
“Did the Swedes hit you on the head?” he asks half-heartedly.
“I wish it was that. But no.” Friedgeir laughs bitterly and shakes his head. A shadow of melancholy flies past his sun-damaged face only to reside inside his silver eyes as a teary glint. “I always knew there was something strange about her but I came to understanding only after seeing the great viziers of the East and their pets locked in golden cages.”
Hvitserk glances towards the healer. His eyes follow her like hawk in hopes of some enlightenment that would make Friedgeir’s words clearer to him. Alas, she appears as she did before - enticing and human.
He shakes his head.
“I don’t understand.”
The Jarl lets out a sigh.
“Just look, dear Hvitserk. See the colourful dress like a parrot’s feathers.” Hvitserk has never heard of something called a parrot, so he is left to assume that they must look nothing like the birds in Norway. “And look at men’s faces when she talks to them. Pain and suffering change into hope and peace. The only time I’ve seen that was when one of the viziers asked his angry guests to listen to his oriole singing. After an hour, no one remembered what they were fighting about.”
Time as if slows down as Hvitserk is watching the healer sit on the edge of a cot belonging to a dying man. She holds his hand tightly and tirelessly wipes cold sweat from his forehead. The warrior is stuttering, fever and pain making his wants incomprehensible. The woman sitting beside him only nods her head, offering a warm smile and a short response. Soon, the man falls limp. His eyes turn blank as his head rolls lifelessly to the side. The healer squeezes the corpse’s hand and only then gets up to continue her work. A pair of healthy warriors wrap up the body in blankets only to carry it away, to the place where a great pyre will burn after nightfall.
Hvitserk is more intelligent than the jarl. More perceptive. He’s seen geese flying southwards when winter was coming, only to come back after snow thaws. But not her - she stayed until the warriors’ skin turned cold and grey. Let go of dead hands only after the heart stopped, never earlier.
“She’s not a bird,” the young Lothbrok speaks up. Friedgeir looks at him curiously. “Can’t you see?” he asks with a chuckle on his tongue. “She must be a Valkyrie, leading fallen warriors to the gates of Odin's hall.”
The Jarl only nods slowly, pondering Hvitserk’s words. 
“If she is, perhaps death isn’t a too high price to be by her side.”
But he’s too young to be this patient and Hvitserk has to find a reason to be beside her now.
Tumblr media
You’re taken aback when someone suddenly takes the wooden crate from your hands. The unexpected helper reveals himself to be none other but Hvitserk with a playful grin on his face. Despite giving all he could in the battle, just hours prior, he appears to still be vigorous as though the fight was a mere warm-up.
The man puts the heavy crate on his shoulder, securing it with one arm. What has given you backpain and cold sweat, seems like no chore to him. The Ragnarsons really are a different strain.
“Where do you want this?” he asks casually.
“At the pyre.” You point in the vague direction of where the bodies will be burned. “Illness thrives within the old, used dressings.”
Hvitserk begins wandering to the place you have pointed out and, not sure why, you begin to follow him. His strides are long and sure, his breathing calm and steady. He hardly fits the image of a man who had to fight like a rabid dog to survive just earlier that day.
“Are you not tired afer the battle?” you ask him. Confusion slips past your words.
“I am.” Hvitserk glances at you. It’s a quick look but you manage to notice him staring you up and down. “But I thought you might need help. You’ve been tending to the wounded for hours.”
A melodic, light chuckle escapes your lips.
“You’ve been watching me?”
His playful half-grin turns into a genuine smile. Staring at the road ahead, he almost looks bashful.
“I have a habit of admiring enticing things,” Hvitserks admits.
You feel your cheeks burning at the nonchalant compliment but you don’t let him notice that. Neither do you let his sweet words distract you.
“Then you must lead a busy, beautiful life.”
The man’s voice seems faraway and absent as he answers, as though his mind is suddenly occupied with vivid daydreams:
“Not yet.”
The noise of the camp is inaudible now. Only pine trees and wild berries accompany Hvitserk and you. A murder of crows suddenly takes flight as you pass by. Their cawing echoes through the empty forest.
You can’t quite put a finger on this sensation but something about Hvitserk makes you feel warm and calm inside. It’s the same feeling one experiences when sitting in front of a warm hearth after spending long hours in the cold. When the blood begins flowing again and the relief of not freezing to death is forgotten, the warmth and safety make one sleepy and giddy. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?
Hvitserk sets the crate down with a low thud. The sound shakes you awake from your thoughts. A strong, putrid smell of blood, fresh wood and animal fat fills your nostrils. Even after all those years, it never gets easier to prepare people for their final journey.
“Thank you,” you begin awkwardly. Some more anxious part of you is suddenly terrified that he will somehow learn of your thoughts about him. “I don’t know if I could have carried it by myself all the way here.”
His lips curve into a sly grin and you can tell he’s about to weave a string of charming words but something about him distracts you instantly. Hvitserk’s shirt, once greyish-beige, is now brown and crimson. Not thinking much, you suddenly grab his arm. He doesn’t even get a chance to protest when you roll up his sleeve to reveal a, re-opened wound.
“Your hand is bleeding,” you state.
Hvitserk is unsure whether your stern gaze scares him or excites.
“It’s nothing.”
He tries to roll his sleeve back down but you swat his arm away. Pushing down on his shoulder, you force him to sit down on the ground with you.
“Well, it’s definitely going to scar,” you say quietly as you inspect the deep cut in his skin. “But the good news is, some women like men with scars. I know I do.”
You take out a sewing needle made from animal bone. For practicality, you’re used to wearing it pinned somewhere in your clothing. After all, one can never know when they might need it like when a handsome, charming Viking suddenly needs his wound stitched. Gods work in mysterious ways, truly…
A drop of blood drips from the wound each time you push the needle through the pale skin. Hvitserk is impressively collected - he only grunts a few times and clenches his teeth. 
“All done,” you whisper more to yourself than him. In a quick, mechanical manner you wipe the skin of his arm again and roll down the sleeve of his shirt. 
You’re standing up when Hvitserk decides he’s not quite done being the apple of your eye:
“How hurt does a man have to be for you to stay around longer?”
As though he didn’t just get stabbed eigh times in his cut and bruised arm, he’s staring at you with than same insufferable mischieviousness that you’ve grown to love so much. Sometimes you wonder whether this is exactly the reason he’s never had trouble charming women.
“A broken rib would do it,” you say with a shrug. “Or you could just ask.”
Suddenly, Hvitserk jumps to his feet. A newfound fire is burning inside him - a flame known only to those, whose affections are returned.
“Please?”
Jokingly, you frown at him.
“I didn’t know the Lothbroks knew such words,” you say in a surprised tone.
You feel his fingers dragging up your arm until his palm gently brushes against your cheek. The skin of his hand is dry and calloused, standing in a stark opposition to its owner.
“We hold it for special occasions.” Hvitserk’s voice is low, almost raspy.
“And me standing here is somehow special?”
“You don’t even know,” he whispers. His breath is hot against your cheeks. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?
“Then tell me.”
At that moment, he knows he will have his entire life to remind you just how special you are to him; he will have his whole saga to love a Valkyrie.
323 notes · View notes
irafuwas · 7 months
Text
twst book 7 chapter 5 notes
You guys know da drill, massive spoilers and babbling and probably lots of typos ahead!!
Tumblr media
Attack on the fortress
Lilia wants them all to teleport back to the castle. However, baul explains that long distance teleportation magic is very hard on people with injuries/illnesses, as it involves basically dematerializing someone’s body and consciousness and then rematerializing it elsewhere. For that reason, the troops split up, with some teleporting right back to the castle to support the princess, and others staying behind with lilia and baul, who will return to the castle on foot
Sebek, silver, yuu, and grim decide to find a way they can help lilia and baul break through the fleet of iron ones surrounding the fortress. They locate some brooms in the fortress and plan to use them to fly over the iron ones and draw their attention. Also, while in the fortress, they find some owls and birds locked up in cages (people used them back then to send messages, per sebek). After freeing them all, silver asks the birds to gather their woodland friends and help them escape. The birds go to the surrounding forest and call on a bunch of animals who come attack the iron ones, with birds dropping rocks on them and squirrels chewing up their catapults.
Lilia musters enough strength to join the boys, and he’s like “umm we’re supposed to be the followers of the night here, you guys” and he calls forth his bats to help the other animals. He quickly tires out from his injuries and rides on sebby’s broom with him
They successfully break through the surrounding troops and escape into the forest. (Lilia is very pleased and pats silver and sebby’s heads)
From here on, they travel by foot as fast as they can back to the castle
Siege of Briar Castle
(I was hoping they’d reveal the localization of 野ばら城, but unfortunately, the map titles all just call it “Castle”. So I will keep calling it Briar Castle for now)
There’s tons and tons of iron ones surrounding the castle as far as the eye can see. They have their excavator machines and catapults with them. Henrick and the knight of dawn are leading the charge, and they also have some mages amongst them and soldiers from neighboring lands
Henrick challenges Meleanor to come fight the Knight of Dawn one on one. If she wins, they will leave. If she loses, Henrick will take the magic stone in her staff (they call the stone “Princess Glow” ?) , briar castle, and her egg, and he will keep the baby dragon to use as like a mount in battle
Lilia
His UM allows him to see the “memories” imbued in objects. He uses it to see how baby silver ended up alone in the castle. It’s called “Far Cry Cradle [To that cradle, far, far away]”, incantation is “Life is but a fleeting day, distance but an illusion.”
He almost kills baby silver, but stays his hand, knowing he couldn’t face malleus again if he did something like that
he decides to raise the baby because he wants to find out if he is truly capable of loving a human. And because he hopes the baby will help malleus get to know humans better
The reason he didn’t tell silver they weren’t related was ‘cause he was too scared to. He didn’t want to see silver get hurt from learning the truth
Meleanor
美人!!!!
Very very very hotheaded. She was trying to strike people with lightning left and right.
She absolutely HATES humans
when she noticed silver and sebek, she told them to kneel before her, and it looked like she cast magic? on them and they fell to their knees
she decides to take the Knight’s challenge, and tells Lilia and the others to escape with the egg using the old underground waterways underneath the castle
lilia begs her not to go, as the egg won’t hatch without its parent’s love. but she tells lilia he can hatch it in her stead. Lilia says he’s never known a parent’s love and he’s never even loved someone before, but meleanor says that’s not true, because he loves her, and he loved levan. And so of course he would love the child borne between them (apparently lilia proposed marriage to melenaor when they were kids kdfjgh)
she changes into her true form (i.e. dragon form) and goes to battle
Levan
he is the one who held onto Lilia’s NRC acceptance letter for him
he is the General of the Left
he always said the fae need to understand humans better, and humans need to understand fae better
he is the one who taught the fae human languages (I thought i remembered lilia saying that but can’t find the part in the video where he says it for the life of me)
Sebek
His UM is “Living Bolt [Clap of Thunder]”, incantation is “I call upon thee, Lightning – Pierce through the clouds above!” I didn’t quite understand what was going on since they are limited with the live 2d models, but it looked like he struck himself with a bolt of lighting?? And then he turned into a lightbulb dfkgjhdkfg
Baul says seb’s older bro and sis never showed any interest in martial arts. But when sebek was around 7, he was saying he wanted to join the imperial guard one day, so baul went and asked lilia to take sebby on as a student
Seb’s older brother is an NRC graduate
Silver
His birth parents are the Knight of Dawn and Princess Leia (Henrick’s sister)
What happened is, after the silver owl defeated (?) Meleanor, henrick took over briar castle. But quickly after that, war erupted again over control of the natural resources and ownership of the land/castle. During the fighting, three fae (one red, one green, and one blue) cast a protective spell on the knight and princess leia’s infant son. The spell would cast the baby into a deep, deep sleep, and would preserve him just as he was. He would sleep and be protected for 10 years, a 100 years, however long it took for the danger to pass. And he would one day be awakened by someone who truly loved him. (lilia surmises the fairy’s spell must’ve weakened over time, and that’s why the baby woke up when lilia was there)
Three or four hundred years after the aforementioned fighting, lilia stops by briar castle. It’s overgrown with thorns and deserted. He says it’s taken all this time for the surrounding nations to agree to peace accords and for the Verdant Glen to become visitable again
He was born with blonde hair. It turned silver when Lilia gave him a blessing. Lilia comments that the Knight must’ve gotten his blonde hair from being blessed by Diurnal fae, and due to Lilia’s blessing (i.e. a blessing from a follower of the night) it changed his hair from the color of the sun to the color of the moon.
Lilia didn’t find Silver’s name written on his cradle or anything, and the day Lilia found him he set as Silver’s new birthday. He choose the name for the color of silver’s hair – silver, like the moon’s light that shines down upon the dark night
Silver within the Darkness
The discovery of the identity of his birth parents shocks silver to his core, and it causes the Darkness to appear and drag down silver into its depths. Yuu, sebek, and grim go in after him, while baul and lilia flee with the egg into the forest. They agree to regroup later.
As Silver is pulled into the Darkness, he sees some of Lilia’s memories. He sees when Lilia first found Silver as a baby, and some memories from his early childhood that he had forgotten. (baby Silver called Lilia ととwhich is like dada/papa/daddy)
It turns out Silver was the one who made the acorn bracelet for lilia. the squirrels helped him gather the acorns, and the woodpeckers helped him thread it together. He made it because some fae living in the oak tree told him that if you wear a charm made from acorns, you will live a long and healthy life. He gives it to lilia and asks him to always stay well and to always be with him. Lilia gets emotional and hugs silver, and says he feels like he could live another 1000 years thanks to the charm. Silver says, “I love you, daddy” and lilia says, “I love you too, Silver” <- (my cause of death)
No matter how many good memories silver sees, he refuses to believe that lilia and malleus love him – the child of their enemy. He begs the darkness to envelop him and pull him into a sleep he will never awaken from
He hears lilia’s voice calling out to him, urging him to get up and keep going. Silver fights off the Darkness and gets back up, but it’s not until Sebek and co. arrive and knock some sense into him that they’re able to escape
Silver refuses to believe lilia and malleus don’t hate him, and since nothing they say is getting through to him, sebek tells silver to take up his weapon and fight him. They spar for a while, and silver defeats sebek. He finally calms down enough for sebek to talk some sense into him, and sebek explains that if lilia really did hate him, then why did he take the time and effort to raise him and teach him? Isn’t the fact silver grew up to be such a strong young man proof of lilia’s love for him? And isn’t Silver’s strength lilia’s love itself? silver realizes that sebek is right, and the Darkness dissipates. They end up in Silver’s dream corridor and see a vision of the Knight of Dawn for a moment, who smiles at them, and then they return back to Lilia’s dream.
Knight of Dawn
He doesn’t agree with what Henrick is doing, and he tries to talk Henrick out of the siege
His ring was given to him by his fairy guardian(s) when he was little. He said there’s only one like it in the world
He and Princess Leia are said to have died during all the fighting that took place after Henrick took over briar castle
Henrick’s father took him in when he was an orphan and raised him. Although the Knight refers to that man as his father, he doesn’t refer to Henrick or Leia as his siblings.
Silver’s sleepiness returns all of a sudden when the knight gets near him. Or maybe it’s the knight’s ring doing it, its unclear
For some reason, he saves lilia’s life when the ceiling in the underground waterway was about to give way and hit lilia and the egg. And instead of attacking them after that, the knight asks them to flee
Its literally just silver’s live 2d model with long blonde hair and he’s voiced by nobbu (silver’s va)😭
Henrick
Bald!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He says that the peoples in the surrounding nations live in fear of dragons attacking them. That’s how he was able to gain support from other countries for the siege
He says that if they can get their hands on the “Princess Glow” magical stone, they might be able to cure their (his, leia’s, knight’s) father of his uncurable illness
He says that Leia has been praying day and night for their father to get better
Lullaby
It’s the tune that mal hums earlier in the book.
At one point, silver sees a memory of malleus looking after silver when silver was a baby, and malleus hummed the song to him. But mal didn’t know the words, and he couldn’t remember where he even heard the song. mal wondered if one of his wet nurses sang it for him when he was little
Silver says lilia would sing it for him often when he was little
Very, very rough TL of the lyrics:
“As you lay there in your warm, warm cradle
The starlight rejoices overhead
And I gaze upon you, right by your side
Shh, you’ll always be okay – both awake and in your dreams
Now sleep, sleep, my beloved child
I pray you’ll walk towards that light
That light that will guide you in your dreams”
213 notes · View notes
christalcake · 4 months
Text
It's never easy
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The air around you is cold, tiny snowflakes fall from the sky above you.  Winter was always your favorite season, enjoying the white powder sprinkling the streets, how you could finally wear your thick sweaters whenever you wanted, and how the holiday season always had something magical about it.  
You’ve stopped to enjoy the beautiful window display at your local bakery store, pointing out the assortments of pastries you’ll most likely be buying for the office party, when you look up to your friend.  
The sight alone is breathtaking, not one to usually smile or show his emotions, he stands under the store lights, a beautiful smile on his face, and his cheeks and the tip of his nose red from the cold.  
“You should smile more.” 
You’re awakened by the conversation outside your room and the sounds from the machines around you.  It’s something you’ve grown accustomed to since you were admitted to the hospital a couple of months ago.
Once you sit up, your gaze lowers as one of your hands lays flat against your growing stomach, cherishing the small life growing within you.  The physical manifestation of the love you and your partner have for one another, exchanging the dangerous world life of a sorcerer for a simple life, a family life.  It was everything you hoped it would be.  
Suddenly, a figure walks across your room and finds a place to sit on the edge of your bed.  A hand reaches towards you, soft fingers interlock with yours and cause you to look up.  Before you can even utter a single word, he shakes his head to stop you from speaking and gives you a tender smile. 
His hand gives you a tight squeeze before moving to lay his palm flat against your covered stomach.  His smile only grows wider feeling the little one moving as if the child could sense the familiar presence and in return, their tiny feet push upwards so their father could feel their precious presence.   
It’s these tiny moments, simple touches, gentle smiles, and the love that envelop the both of you…  Ready to give up everything you know, just to enjoy the peaceful life that happily awaits the both of you. 
He lets go of your belly and his hands reach up to cup both of your cheeks in his palm, allowing the pads of his thumbs to brush along your cheeks, attempting to bring your face closer to his. 
The gentle pressure of tiny feet kicking your bladder, causes you to chuckle and pull away slightly.  As you look into his green eyes, the sight that only moments ago filled you with such joy, you can feel the sense of sorrow slowly replacing it. 
He shakes his head again already aware of what you are going to do, and tries to distract you by pulling you closer to his chest.  
His palms are warm and soft against your cheeks, soothing your worries that somehow you failed to notice.  You find yourself even more confused as the pads of his thumbs smooth away the stray tears that are staining the apple of your cheeks. 
Wait, when did you start crying?  Why are you crying? 
You try to pull away,...   
“Don’t,...”  it’s the first thing he says, his voice so soft and filled with pain.
Your gaze flicks back up, searching within his eyes to see if they are hiding anything from you.  Something wasn’t right, missing from his gaze…  The small light that usually casts such a distinct glow around his irises, is gone. 
It finally dawns on you, the air around you is quiet…  The usual chatter from the hospital staff outside, the beeping from those machines in the corner of your room…  The fetal monitor that would echo each of your baby’s movements…. 
Your heart skips a beat, your cheeks grow warmer and a new wave of tears comes forth. 
His lips quiver for a moment, but he regains his composure to ensure you don’t break further.  Your hands reach up, fingers interlocking with his as he still holds your cheeks. The small whimpers that you make tear at his already broking heart.
Your rock, the other half of your very soul…  The person that you’ve had by your side since he agreed to that first date. 
One of his hands leaves the comfort of yours, reaching into his pocket, and pulls out something wrapped in that familiar handkerchief of his.  He lays the object on your lap before pulling you forward and capturing your trembling lips against his own.  
The kiss is chaste, a bittersweet feeling lingers as you try to remember the shape of his lips, his taste, and his warmth against yours.  You don’t want to part, but your senses come to when you feel your lungs burn and ache for the air they desperately cry for.  As you both break the kiss, you refuse to pull too far, wanting to feel his breath tickle your bottom lip. 
“I-I…” you try to speak, if only the lump would dislodge from your throat.  “I promise to do laundry every day…  I’ll make sure your favorite coffee mug is washed and stored in its usual spot.” 
More tears sting the corner of your eyes, and your breath hitch when you feel his fingers cup your chip.  
“I-I’ll make sure to care for Itadori as best I can.” your voice trembles once again but you try to compose yourself before looking up at him and giving him a tearful smile.  “I promise you…  I love you so much.” one of your hands takes his and places it on your stomach.  “We both love you.” 
“Thank you.” 
His voice echoes into the back of your mind, while you suddenly come to.  The chatter from outside your room returns, followed by the beeping coming from the machines.  You’re still stuck in a semi-daze, staring at the edge of your bed where he was sitting. 
Movements from within your belly seem to help break the spell you found yourself in.  Wiping the tears that stuck to the corner of your lashes before looking down.  The object that was wrapped in the familiar leopard print handkerchief was still on your lap.  Your hands stayed frozen in place until you found the courage to lower them and grab it.  
“The ability to speak with any souls before they cross over.” his expression remained the same, but his eyes showed a hint of curiosity. 
“I always thought it was a weird ability.” you chuckle sweetly, remembering all those strange moments as a child when spirits would desperately find you and request your help to pass on one last message to loved ones.  “But as I grow older…  I find it a little more comforting.  Being able to help someone find closure, with someone’s final message.” 
Your body trembles as you break down crying again, holding his watch close to your chest.  The message engraved on the inner surface of the watch is still left intact, with no scratches or splatter on the metal.  Everything seemed perfect, but the hands remained still…  
[21:25] 
“You never know, I may actually find my own use in my abilities someday.” you aren’t sure why that left your mouth, but you turn back to look at him and smile.  “Anyways, how about that date Kento?”
Tumblr media
113 notes · View notes
dontyouworrydaddy · 9 months
Note
could uou write 141 boys + könig with a mute and shy s/o? i just imagined her being insecure about her condition and keeping quiet most of the time bc people think its too difficult to learn ASL to communicate with her
Tumblr media
𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒��𝓇𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔
Task Force 141 (+König) + fem! reader
Absolutely! I love this idea! I feel like they would secretly learn ASL while you’re sleeping and as soon as they learn a bit sign language, they‘d come and proudly show you!
Whatever your condition is, remember that you’re beautiful and loved.❤️ I hope you enjoy love<3
༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
Tumblr media
König
One quiet evening, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, feeling the weight of your silent existence press upon you. König always attuned to your emotions, approached you with a tenderness that surprised you.
"Liebling" he spoke softly, his voice carrying an unexpected gentleness. "You have a voice that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. I've seen the strength in your eyes, the way you navigate the world with unwavering resilience. It's a language all its own."
You tried to respond, to convey your gratitude through gestures, because words failed you. König understood, as he always did, and a ghost of a smile played on his lips.
"People may think learning ASL is difficult" he continued, his voice unwavering. "But what they fail to understand is that true communication goes beyond spoken words."
As König's words consumed within you, a sense of hope ignited. Here was someone who saw beyond the limitations of your silence, who valued the depth of your character without the need for spoken conversation.
In that moment, König's dedication to unraveling the mysteries of the world aligned with his newfound mission—to break down the barriers that confined you. He began learning ASL, dedicating his time and effort to becoming fluent in the language of your heart.
Days turned into weeks and as König studied ASL, you witnessed his unwavering commitment to bridging the communication gap. With each signed word, each gesture, his actions spoke louder than any spoken language ever could.
One evening, as König stood before you, his hands gracefully forming the signs that carried your silent voice, tears welled up in your eyes. For the first time, you felt truly seen and understood.
"I" König signed, his gaze unwavering. "I love you. And I will never stop loving you. You are enough."
Overwhelmed by emotions, you reached out and gently touched his hand, your silent gratitude pouring forth. In that moment, all doubt and insecurity melted away, replaced by an unshakeable bond of trust and understanding.
Tumblr media
Simon Riley
The world often misunderstood your muted existence, dismissing your presence as an inconvenience. This led you to retreat further into your shell, convinced that your voiceless nature was a barrier too difficult for others to overcome. But little did you know, Simon saw beyond your silence and wanted to bridge the gap that separated you.
As weeks passed, Simon embarked on a secret journey of his own. He was focused on learning ASL, determined to communicate with you on a deeper level. He spent countless hours studying and practicing, his dedication fueled by the desire to show you just how much you meant to him.
One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Simon approached you with a glimmer of nervous anticipation in his eyes. His hands moved hesitantly, fingers forming signs that conveyed a message he had longed to share. It took you a moment to comprehend what was happening, but when the realization dawned on you, tears welled up in your eyes.
"You" Simon began, his hands shaping the words, "are not alone. I love you and I would do anything for you. You are the love of my life. "
Overwhelmed by the depth of his gesture, you felt a surge of emotions welling up inside you. The tears cascaded down your cheeks as you embraced Simon, his arms enveloping you in a warm and comforting embrace.
Tumblr media
John MacTavish
You guys were on a date together, a small café was your chosen destination. The soft ambiance and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, creating an intimate setting for your evening together. Though you felt at ease with John, a flicker of anxiety lingered in the back of your mind.
You exchanged glances, a subtle dance of unspoken emotions passing between you. John's eyes held an understanding that went beyond words. Sensing your unease, he reached out and gently clasped your hand, his touch providing solace in the sea of doubt.
Leaning closer, John whispered "Love, I want you to know that your voice matters to me. I've taken the time to learn something special for you."
Your eyes widened, a mix of surprise and curiosity flooding your expression. Slowly, John's hands moved, gracefully shaping the words of sign language. He had learned to communicate with you, not just through spoken words but through the beautiful dance of hands.
A radiant smile stretched across your face, a blossoming hope filling your heart. John's commitment and effort to bridge the gap between your worlds touched you deeply. The weight of insecurity began to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of belonging.
As the evening progressed, you found comfort in the way John answered your questions with his hands, his signing fluid and graceful. He embraced the silent conversation with a natural ease, making you feel seen and understood in ways you had longed for.
Tumblr media
John Price
Your silence often made you feel invisible or burdensome. But john saw you for who you truly were…a unique and remark rkable person. He understood the weight of your insecurities and the struggles you faced with communication. Determined to show you that you were valued and cherished, he planned a special date to help you feel more at ease.
As you and John embarked on your date, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension. You sat across from each other in a cozy restaurant, the atmosphere filled with gentle conversation and soft music. But as the evening unfolded, your shyness seemed to envelop you, making it difficult for you to express yourself.
John, ever perceptive, noticed your discomfort. His brows furrowed with concern as he searched for a way to bridge the communication gap. And then, an idea sparked in his eyes, a glimmer of determination to make you feel understood.
With a warm smile, John placed his hands on the table, fingers poised to communicate in sign language. It was a language he had learned, not for duty or necessity, but solely for the purpose of connecting with you.
His hands moved gracefully, forming signs that echoed like poetry, bridging the gap between your worlds. As he signed, he answered your unspoken questions, assuaging your fears and insecurities. Through his actions, he showed you that your voice, though silent, was still heard and cherished.
Time seemed to stand still as you watched him sign, your heart swelling with a newfound sense of belonging. You mustered the courage to ask questions, feeling more secure in the knowledge that he understood you.
With each question, John responded in kind, his hands dancing through the air, painting a beautiful tapestry of understanding. He spoke with his gestures, his touch, and the unwavering look in his eyes, conveying a love and acceptance that needed no words.
As the evening wore on, you found yourself laughing, engaging, and truly connecting with John in ways you had never experienced before. The barriers that once held you captive began to crumble, and in their place bloomed a sense of confidence.
Tumblr media
Kyle Garrick
You navigated the complexities of being mute, a burden of insecurity weighed heavily on your heart. But Kyle had taken it upon himself to learn sign language in secret, determined to bridge the communication gap and show you that your voice mattered.
One day, as you sat together in an empty yet peaceful park, you reached for your phone, preparing to type out a message to convey your thoughts. However, before you could even unlock the device, you noticed a glimmer of familiarity in Kyle's eyes. His lips curved into a gentle smile, and his hands started to move in a graceful dance.
In awe, you watched as Kyle's hands formed the words you had longed to hear. "Baby" he signed, his eyes fixed on yours, "you don't need to pull out your phone. You can talk to me, right here, just by looking at me."
Tears welled up in your eyes, and a mix of disbelief and joy filled your heart. Never before had you experienced such understanding and acceptance. With a shy smile of your own, you mustered the courage to respond, using the language of your hands to form the words that had long been trapped within you.
"I... I didn't know," you signed, your hands trembling with a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude. "Thank you... for learning sign language... for seeing me."
Kyle's expression softened as he reached out, his fingertips brushing against yours in a tender gesture. His eyes conveyed a depth of emotions that mere words could never capture. "Love…" he signed, his hands moving with purpose, "you deserve to be heard, to be understood. I wanted to learn sign language because I wanted to connect with you, to show you that you're not alone."
245 notes · View notes
mrkis · 2 years
Text
𝐍𝐂𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 :: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄
Tumblr media
✗a little warning, this is very long and very detailed.
✗renjuns, chenles and jisungs sections may be shorter than the others because i'm still new to writing abt them and i find it a little tricky trying to see them in such a way at the moment so i'm sorry if its shitty. @saintlyhyuck helped me out with renjuns.
✗sidenote, donghyucks section is a slight spoiler to his series i'm going to be doing lol. it gives off stalker/yandere vibes, please be cautious when reading or skip it if you're not comfortable with that!!!
‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖ ‣ ˖
you meet mark at a café where you work and he’s never been here before, but he only came because he lost a bet and had to buy everyone drinks. mark definitely has that ‘love at first sight’ mindset going on so the second he makes brief eye contact with you? he’s immediately in awe. he’s so infatuated. he can’t stop looking at you, he’s a stuttering mess ordering the drinks. purposely sits down just to stare at you longer even though he desperately has to be somewhere.
you know exactly what’s happening by the way. it’s blatantly obvious but honestly?? you don’t mind. not only do you kinda like the attention but it’s from the most prettiest boy you have ever laid eyes on??? its a win-win situation right here.
eventually, mark does makes the first move. he literally just scribbles his number onto a napkin and leaves it open on the table hoping that you'd be the one to pick it up and not some random customer or another worker, god he really should've thought this through because now he's panicking about his number getting into the wrong hands and— never mind you called him.
you talk back and forth for a while. he even meets you during your breaks just so he sit with you and keep you company. it doesn't take long for him to feel comfortable touching you. his shoulders brush against yours, his thigh pressed against yours, his fingers linger on your arm a little longer than usual. he definitely does that fake yawn and put his arm around your shoulders manoeuvre, thinks he's so slick and cool. it doesn't take long for the both of you to share a few small kisses when he walks you home or even in the back alleyway when you go outside for some fresh air on breaks.
mark, without a doubt, wants to sleep with you now but he will not be the first to initiate anything... which leaves you in a difficult position. you have never slept with anyone. it hasn't crossed your mind. you weren't interested in having sex with anyone until you met mark. but he doesn't know that and you're far too embarrassed to admit it... until you invited him in one night (purely under innocent intent) and his lips were feverishly on yours and his hands were moving beneath your shirt.
saying he was shocked is an understatement. he has no words. probably gets a little emotional over the fact that you're basically giving him your virginity but then it dawns on him that YOU are GIVING HIM your VIRGINITY and its suddenly becomes the hottest thing ever. he's gentle with you. laying beside you on the bed as he kisses you, shyly caressing your body and calling you the most beautiful girl. the two of you for sure share some giggles and some laughs, but it eases the tension. he makes you feel really good even though he has a extremely hard time controlling himself around you, especially while he's now hovering above you with your walls contracting around his dick, trying to accustom to the size.
he's breathing so heavily through his nose, his brain fuzzy, unable to comprehend what the fuck is actually going on but he's able to voice small little praises, his hands gently caressing your cheek and pushing your hair out of your face, asking how you feel and if anything hurts. he wants to move so badly but he remains still just for you. it's torture, but you matter more.
Tumblr media
renjun is a friend of a friend, someone who is in your friendship group but never really speak to. he keeps to himself, head buried into a book with his glasses slipping down his nose, drowning in oversized sweaters and wearing bulky headphones to block out the chatter around him, way too focused on the words that are written on the pages. you'd be lying if you said you weren't intrigued by him. there was just something about renjun that piqued your interest, and it wasn't a secret that you were clearly attracted to the quiet nerd in the group. you're positive renjun even knows about your little attraction towards him, although he's never made a move much to your dismay.
that is until you two are alone at a small gathering one of your mutual friends hosted, the others disappearing to go buy more beers and snacks while you both are made to stay at the house, the car too small to fit all of you inside. as always, renjun brings his book, but you're not entirely convinced he's able to focus on the words with the way he's peering over the top of the book to meet your eyes across the room, cheeks tinted a light shade of red.
he asks why you're staring at him to which you reply that he's pretty to look at, the alcohol giving you a boost of confidence. he's flustered, the book almost slipping from his grasp but he clears his throat to regain himself, muttering how you look pretty too with his own sudden confidence. it doesn't take long for you to clamber into his lap after a few back and forth compliments, ripping the book out of his hands and throwing it somewhere to the side before your lips connected.
the kiss is awkward. it's soft and hesitant, but it's one of the best kisses you've ever had. to be fair, you haven't shared a lot of kisses with other people, but you're giving renjun everything you've got and he seems to be giving his 100%, fingers gripping your hips tightly as your lips trail down his neck, marking him up, almost claiming him as yours. he's a whining mess, hips jerking beneath yours as his cock strains against his pants, desperate to be touched. you want to touch him, relieve him of his pent up frustration, but there's just one problem. you have no idea what you're actually doing.
when you whisper to him that you're a virgin and haven't gone further than some very light petting, something inside him switches. he flips you both around, your back crashing down against the sofa cushions and he's hovering above you, eyes dark and wild. that sub exterior completely slipping away, replacing with a dom that's eager to take control which excites you. clothes are immediately peeled off of both of your bodies once he mutters that you don't have a lot of time to yourselves until the others get back, his hips uncontrollably rut against yours, tip brushing against your clit.
you're whining for him to touch you, almost pleading him to do something, to do anything to help get rid of that ache between your legs but you gasp as you feel a sting spread across your cheek, looking up at renjun in surprise at the sudden slap. you never expected this from the quiet nerd in your friend group and you never would expect him to wrap his hand around your throat as he slowly eases his cock inside of you, making sure not to move too abruptly and hurt you, which is a complete contrast to his actions a mere few seconds prior. he's grunting in your ears about how tight your pussy feels around him, fucking you slow and deep that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your hands grasping at his around your throat.
Tumblr media
jeno's your next door neighbour that you've been friends with for years that suddenly got hot over the summer break and now you can't stop thinking about him in such vulgar ways. you've been close since middle school, always sharing secrets and stories, having sleepovers and laughing until the crack of dawn. you could confidently say he is your best friend and you are his but the summer break got too busy to the point you were unable to see each other. you didn't hang out at all.
the first time you see jeno is when the summer break is almost over and he's standing in his front garden, shirtless, holding a beer in his hand and standing next to his best friend who's grilling meat for their get together bbq that they have almost every weekend. he's so pretty to look at, especially with his newly dyed pink hair that's tousled from the amount of times he ran his fingers through it.
the first time jeno sees you is when you emerge from your house in the most tiniest of shorts to accompany your family members who were relaxing in the garden. jeno was, admittedly, staring at your legs and your ass the entire time, wondering when the fuck did you have that glow up. he has always found you cute and adorable since you were both young, but now? you're hot. you're sexy.
your mother notices him looking over and is the first to initiate the conversation, beckoning him on over and asking all types of questions, even complimenting his appearance which makes you embarrassed at her behaviour, but this helps start yours and Jeno's first conversation of the last remaining week of summer break. you click straight away.
you're back to hanging out and talking every day, sitting in his garden under the blazing sun in your most tight fitted bikinis which jeno starts to notice, but he doesn't comment on it, instead he wears his own tight fitted swim shorts, flexing his thighs whenever he sits down beside you. you both get a little tipsy and this is where the honestly rolls off of your tongue. you tell him how you don't want to be a virgin anymore and that going into college with no sexual experience sounds lame (although it really doesn't). jeno just stares at you with a smirk on his face, nodding and humming along to all the things that you say and then he says it.
the way he so casually offers to take your virginity almost makes you choke on your own saliva but you keep calm and collected, simply nodding your head. you thought maybe jeno would've dropped the subject after that or laughed and told you that he was joking, but what you didn't expect was jeno to take your hand in his and tug you inside of his house, immediately pulling you onto his lap the second he sits down on his sofa.
he leans back against the cushions, smirking with his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he shoves your bikini bottoms to the side and circles his fingers around your entrance. jeno is all but kind to you for your first time. of course he makes sure that you are wet enough but he at least wants to make you cum twice on his fingers before he even thinks about shoving his cock inside you. he makes you do that. he makes you sit on his cock, gesturing you to grip his cock and put it in yourself with a simple nod of his head, capturing your lips with his in a messy kiss as he first enters inside of you.
Tumblr media
the thing is with donghyuck, he obsesses over things and gets attached pretty easily. if there's a new game he likes, he'll continuously play it as if there's no other game in the world. if there's a new food he likes, he'll only eat that until the thought of it makes him violently sick and he finds something different. with people he crushes on, donghyuck does everything and anything to be around them, forcing his way into their comfort zone... and you were his next target.
he first met you during a morning class you shared together and you were made to sit next to him due to a minor inconvenience, bare faced and covered in an oversized red hoodie, smelling like fresh strawberries. donghyuck froze in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from the side of your head. his favourite colour is red and he really likes strawberries. what a coincidence? you're perfect. you're his.
his staring wasn't subtle, which made you feel a little more annoyed than you already were from being forced to move seats, and you turn to look at him to tell ask him what the fuck he was staring at until you see the look in his eyes. they're filled with want, with desire, with need. a smirk is now plastered across his lips and he leans his elbows on the table, his eyebrow raising at your own staring but you tear your eyes away from him in an instant, focussing your attention on the professor in front.
you notice the appearances donghyuck starts to make in your everyday life; sitting near your table at lunch, studying at the library while you're there, present in every class you're in together, following you on your social medias, liking your posts on instagram, creating stories with your favourite music playing in the background... he isn't slick, and he knows it.
you eventually end up cornering donghyuck the next time you see him, especially when he ends up sitting in one of your favourite restaurants eating one of your favourite meals (which, by the way, you have never posted or hardly spoke about).he's beaming when you plant yourself in the chair opposite him, demanding him to answer all of your questions about him knowing so much about you, but obvious donghyuck doesn't care, not when he finally has your attention after craving it for so long.
how you end up in a five hour conversation with him is beyond you. you expected to be gone after confronting him, but you're captivated by his smile and the way he talks to you, so you didn't have it in you to get up and leave just like that. he's already got you wrapped around his fingers, he's already obsessed, but he feels his obsession grow a little more stronger when he manages to get a raw confession out of you.
your virginity hardly meant anything to you. you never actively went out looking for a hookup nor are you saving it up for that 'someone special', it was just there. but donghyuck manages to persuade you to bring him home with you, promising that it wasn't for any other motive than to hang out, but you eventually end up with both of your clothes thrown carelessly on the floor and him in between your legs, desperate lips biting and sucking at your skin, savouring the way you taste. he's always been curious.
donghyuck feels like he's in heaven once he's sheathed inside of you, buried to the hilt, body flush against yours. he feels like he could cry as he cradles your cheek in his hand, a smile creeping onto his lips as he watches your face contort from pain into pleasure, nails digging into his biceps and creating raw scratch marks that he can't wait to admire later. his grip tightens around your jaw, his thumb harshly digging in your bottom lip before pushing through the small gap, pressing his thumb against your tongue as he rolls his hips forward, your squeals and moans filling his ears. he's got you. you're his.
Tumblr media
jaemin is your flatmate. he's a good flatmate. he's clean and tidy, he makes dinner every other night, he washes the dishes and he helps with the laundry. he's a perfect flatmate... so, what's the problem? you are, undoubtedly, cursed with a fuckboy as a flatmate.
he fucks loud. it's loud and obvious. his bedframe rattles against the bedroom wall, his grunts fill the hallways and his hookups scream the whole flat down with their squeals and moans of pleasure. he has zero shame.
truth be told, you're jealous. not because he's having sex with other people and not you. you're jealous because he's able to have sex whenever he wants without any concerns or problems. you're too shy to look for a hookup and you most definitely don't want to hookup with just any person. it's frustrating and it's irritating... which is why you make the stupid decision in finding the courage to ask jaemin to be your first.
he emerges out of his room one morning shirtless, scratch marks decorating his shoulders and lower back, a smile on his lips as he leads last nights hookup to the front door, waving her a quick goodbye and allowing her to plant her lips on his cheek before leaving. he closes the door, meeting your eyes across the room that stare at him. he's pulling a face, asking you what's wrong as he walks on over, hands resting on his hips with sass.
the look on his face when you tell him you want him to experience what sex is like with him would've made you piss your pants if it wasn't for your embarrassment and insecurities. when he asks you why you want him, you're taken back. you expected a simple yes or no, not an explanation which makes you feel a little awkward now, refusing to make eye contact with him when you explain your situation. you even add on that you want your first to be with someone experienced... and jaemin has a lot of experience.
he takes his time to answer and you accept defeat, preparing yourself to get turned down and be a helpless virgin for the rest of your life but jaemin's already taking your hand in his, dragging you to his bedroom with such urgency.
it baffles you how gentle jaemin is with your body, knowing what he's truly like behind the four walls of this bedroom. the light touches and soft kisses he makes on your skin makes your head spin. the praises and words of encouragement warms your heart. he's all about foreplay he claims, fingering you open with his middle and ring finger, talking you through the process all while leaving kitten licks and soft kisses on your folds.
he allows you to control the pace even though he's on top, not before making sure you're comfortable and ready. you're scared, gripping his bicep tightly in your grasp, sucking in a deep breath when you tell him to just fuck you. he's laughing, cooing at you words, calling you sweet and cute as his cock slips into your prepped pussy. he whispers sweet little nothings in your ears to calm you down when he feels your body tensing up, mumbling about how tight you feel around his cock and that you feel so good, that you're doing so well for him.
he even holds your hand throughout it, smothering your face with the most tender kisses, waiting for you to tell him his next move.
Tumblr media
you hate chenle. you hate him with a passion. he's loud. he's annoying. he's sassy and he's overly confident that it makes you sick. he lives and breathes to tease you, to rile you up and cause a reaction. you loathe him.
chenle knows this, of course. he thrives off of it, almost making it a mission to make you angry at least once a day. he makes small comments, he steals your shit, he mocks you when you talk and he tries to trip you whenever you walk by. it's a game for him. a sick and twisted game that makes you want to strangle him to death.
you never really laid your hands on chenle before, minus a few arm punches here and there, but the first time you actually touched him with the intent of killing him was when chenle took his teasing a step too far. your hands were around his throat before realising, cursing and shouting at the top of your lungs as you climb onto his lap for a better grip, threatening to end his life for making your life a living hell.
chenle's cackling, finding joy in your anger as he tries to peel you off of him, digging his hands under your armpits to tickle you, pinching your sides to throw you off but his ministrations die down when he feels the way you're moving on top of him, your hips accidentally grinding down on his to keep yourself stable.
he's gulping, eyes blown out wide, hands resting on your waist as he stares up at you and you go to make a comment about who the fuck he was staring at until you feel it, the hardness poking at your inner thigh. you reel back in surprise but chenle's got you trapped in his hold, unable to move off his lap without you struggling, causing you to move on his cock that continues to grow in his pants.
you call him a sick fuck, chiding him for enjoying this but he's not listening, panting heavily with each movement of your hips. you raise your hand to hit his arm for his attention but he's quick to grab it, pressing the palm of your hand around his throat tightly as he begs you to do it again. you're dumbstruck, unable to form a sentence as you stare at him incredulously.
you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the position you were in, allowing yourself to wrap your fingers around his neck and grind your hips down on his cock. he's gasping and grunting, his own fingers digging into your waist to quicken your movements and it doesn't take long for him to remove each of your clothes, begging to be touched and pleased.
before either of your underwear are thrown across the room, he confesses that he's never had sex before, that this is his first time to which you nod your head, admitting that you've never gone this far with anyone either. a few messy handjobs and awkward fingering sessions have been present in your lifetime but never sex. this is new for the both of you.
it's exciting. it's exhilarating to have sex with someone you despise so much, but that's what makes it so fun, especially when you're fucking each other with so much hatred and pent up frustrations.
Tumblr media
jisung has been your boyfriend for a little over four months. relationships are fairly new to you both and being as shy as you are, neither of you have gone further than a few shared kisses. it's not like you didn't want to have sex with jisung, because you really do, it's the fact that you literally have no idea what to do and you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of your first boyfriend.
jisung is in a similar position, he wants to have sex with you, he wants to know what it's like to be so intimate and close to you... but how the fuck is he supposed to do that with no experience? what would happen if he can't please you the way you deserve to be pleased? what if he can't make you cum? god, he's a mess. his head is in his hands and his phone is unlocked beside him with multiple tabs open with articles and videos teaching him how to please a woman, some a little more intimidating than others, babbling to himself how he's going to be a virgin forever.
you're standing at the bedroom door, watching him with wide eyes and the second you step further into the room, the floorboards creak beneath your weight and his head snaps up in alarm. his hand slams down on his phone when the woman on a video starts to explain where the clit is and you try your best to supress your laugh when his face turns red and eyes glassy, clearly embarrassed at being caught.
jisung's rambling now, confessing while also making excuses that make no sense whatsoever but his words die down when you sit beside him and unlock your phone to show him your own research, flicking through countless of tabs that teaches you how to give a handjob and how to ride a dick. he swears that he even saw a article with the title: "how to make someone cum"
this stirred something inside of jisung so he, shockingly, made the first move to kiss you and you happily reciprocated. the two of you awkwardly move around on your bedsheets, struggling to peel items of clothing off of your bodies and you laugh at the way his sweater gets caught around his head. laughing helps eases the situation and you both share a few giggles but the nerves come immediately flying back when jisung is between your open legs, hands shaking as he rolls the condom on his length.
your body trembles with anxiety, trying to hold yourself back from covering your most intimate areas and you refuse to meet his eyes when he hovers over you, his breath fanning across your cheeks. jisung feels his own body shake with anxiety as he wraps his hand around himself, nudging his tip at your entrance and the painful gasp you let out during his first initial push makes him freak out, pulling back almost immediately you shake your head, fingers interlocking with his tightly, eyes staring into his so lovingly as he pushes back into you.
Tumblr media
©mrkis
2K notes · View notes
azul-marie · 1 year
Text
leon. (brume)
fem. reader. angst, suggestive mentions.
your husband is a stranger.
the man you married months ago has been reduced to nothing, ground to bits, reborn as a soldier, a tool, a puppet. he is no longer yours; he will never be again.
the color of the sky, his eyes shone bright, now sullen and sunken with unspoken hurt. hollow cheeks from missed meals, dark bags from little sleep. of these things and more, he says nothing. shares nothing. and you let him be, out of love, out of fear, to keep the distance between the two of you from growing further apart.
nevertheless, he treats you much the same. still kisses you soft, still holds you close in all the ways he knows you like. but there is a new edge behind his movements. unfamiliar. paranoid. his hands, calloused in places they weren’t before, grip too tightly your own when you’re out and about. his unnerving stares towards alleys and doorways, his too quick response to his hip at every sound. was he always this way? or was it the city, the hell that brought it out?
leon, you’d whisper, come lay down and rest.
he listens. in the evenings he curls up next to you, lets your scent, your warmth, engulf him like a cloud. a tangible reminder of what he wants to protect. lets you tuck his face close up against your heart. he listens to its beating until it slows to a pulse, then slips away to stand guard at the front door again. and when you wake up alone in the dark, you pretend his version in your dreams sleeps soundly besides you.
leon, your arms hug around his waist, make love to me today.
he listens. be it by day or moonlight, he indulges you in every way you ask. his too rough hands grabbing, bruising, taut muscles grown slick with sweat and lips parting to kiss at your breasts. this body is unfamiliar, no matter the pleasure it brings. his newly assigned training, grueling and relentless, has wrung out every bit of softness he once had — he is sharp, cutting at your flesh, pulling and shaping you beyond what you knew. who is this stranger, loving you as he did? who is this man, whose dark eyes you avoid when he looks at you?
“leon,” you plead, sorrow in your throat, “please tell me you love me.”
he is quiet. stops stuffing his go-bag with mission ready supplies, beckoned by an early morning phone call before dawn even crackled through the sky. a part of him wishes to throw this godforsaken bag out the door, or crush his phone into the pavement and hope he finds a way to keep from being found. another wishes you’d just go back to sleep.
“you know i do.” he replies without turning around, voice heavy with a humorless sort of huff. a disbelieving sound. “don’t tell me you forgot already.”
“just tell me, please. say it before you go.” your voice breaks faintly at the end.
leon turns and peers so intensely at you that tears swell forth in your eyes. it prevents you from discerning his expression. was it one of pity? exasperation? you bury your face into your hands, woe bubbling up like a spring.
strong arms embrace you. whispers of affirmation dull against your sobs, against the outpour displaying your silent suffering. if only you could find comfort in this man’s arms. in the way he kisses your seasalt tears across your cheeks, how tenderly he runs his hands through your hair. through the blur, you see the youth of your love, the hopeful candor who was once your leon. when you blink, then blink again, it is the face of a jaded, somber man who gazes at you the same way he did, once upon a dream.
“i do. i swear i do.” leon insists. he presses kiss after kiss on every inch of your pretty face, unsure how else to soothe you. “you’re everything to me, remember? you’re why i’m still here. you’re all i have. please don’t cry, darling. i love you, i love you.”
you close your eyes. bask in the noise. if you try hard enough, you can still make out the soft cadence of your leon’s voice hidden beneath his baritone pain. but it’s not him, is it? it’s not anymore. try, try harder, and perhaps you’ll learn to love him like the leon he was before. maybe then his kisses wouldn’t feel like thorns, and his hugs wouldn’t choke you blue.
“i just want you back. that’s all i really want. please stay here, don’t leave me waiting alone.
oh, leon, please don’t go again.”
283 notes · View notes
pochipop · 1 year
Text
#GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — A LONELY WOLF HOWLS AT THE DRUNKEN MOON (DILUC X READER).
Tumblr media
#. synopsis! — you spend your days sorting out conflicts as a negotiator, but nothing could have prepared you for the bad blood between your dearest childhood friends. diluc says a lot of things he doesn't mean, —but also says a lot of things he does .
#. characters! — diluc .
#. warnings! — angst, mentions of the canon death of a loved one, family issues, explicit depictions of arguments .
#. word count! — 3.9k .
#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .
#. others! — navigation & masterlist .
Tumblr media
When this journey began, you’d been expecting a lot of things, —mostly Kaeya and Diluc bickering back and forth, the younger instigating petty verbal spats only for the older to snap back after a while of disinterested replies. You’d even been anticipating a night or two of awkward sleeping arrangements, folding in on yourself in hopes of keeping your distance from each of them, as if you hadn’t sought their warmth as your protectors in your youth.
But you’re not a little kid anymore, and the two young men at your side are no longer your closest friends. Your nights aren’t spent telling silly ghost stories under cozy blankets in the bedrooms of Dawn Winery’s manor. Nowadays, Kaeya shows off on the battlefield, glints of bloodlust in his visible eye, rather than climbing trees in your backyard until slivers of fear began to prick at his feet and the best option was simply to climb back down. Diluc, on the other hand, doesn’t show off much at all. He works alone, his head held high and his walls higher, —keeping everyone out, because he’ll never be able to tell where the next betrayal is coming from.
You like to think you haven’t lost all of your childlike wonder and spark. At least, not to the extent of either of them; one who bears a Cryo Vision and yet burns with guilt and shame, and the other who wields a Pyro Vision, but has frozen himself to the bone just to keep others away.
As a so-called negotiator, employed by the Adventurers Guild to deal with a variety of issues that often stem from conflicts and misunderstandings, it feels disgraceful that you’d be incapable of playing peacekeeper between the two of them. But your skills feel years beyond rusted as you stand with them, seeking refuge from a ruthless storm in an old, abandoned hilichurl camp. It had rolled in from far away, taking all three of you by surprise. Abandoning your uncovered wagon with minimal supplies to manage through a few days' journey was the only viable option as the wind began to whip loose branches from trees and lightweight rocks and pebbles from the ground.
Even in such horrid weather, thieves offered no breaks from their crime. They snatched away your wagon’s contents, in spite of it having been hidden away in the trees. You can’t help but wonder how long they’d been tailing the three of you from the city. . .
Beyond that, you wonder why fate has decided to be so cruel to you. Diluc was a distant assistant of the Knights of Favonius these days, only offering help when it was completely necessary. Why he chose to take charge of this mission is beyond you, and why Kaeya decided to join at the last minute, you’ll never understand. Especially now that all they’ve done is largely overlook your existence in order to get petty digs in at one another.
They’d managed to complicate what was supposed to be a simple trip to Liyue Harbor to settle an even simpler dispute.
“Hey, Master Diluc,” Kaeya calls out, tone condescending, “mind giving us a hand over here?”
The redhead spares his brother an agitated glance, nearly throwing daggers with his tongue before his gaze came to rest on you. . . You’re just as sweet looking as he remembers. There’s always been something so innocent and warm swimming in your eyes, as if your full well of kindness has overflown and pooled right into your stare. For your sake, Diluc swallows his not-so-kind words and makes little show of lighting the fire between yourself and Kaeya, who offers no thanks.
“You should sit down,” you say to Diluc softly, moving off to the side to let him rest before the newly lit fire. “You’re dripping wet.”
“I’m fine—” he begins roughly, but stops himself immediately when you flinch at the harshness of his tone.
He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. A deep breath in, and he tries again, gentler this time.
“I’m alright,” he corrects, but offers no apology for startling you just before. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”
If both of you had been younger and these past few years had never happened, you’d have been quick to question his liberal usage of a little. It’s pouring, maybe more than you’ve ever seen it, and lightning slits the sky ruefully as thunder booms from the heavens.
“Don’t be so cold,” Kaeya chides, and takes pleasure in doing so, “I’m the one with the Cryo Vision.”
“You’re also the one who doesn’t know when to keep his crooked nose out of other people’s affairs,” Diluc answers bluntly, a sharp edge to his voice.
“Crooked?” The younger questions, ignoring Diluc’s blow to his character in lieu of the cosmetic insult.
“Enough,” you insert yourself tiredly, “now’s not the time to be arguing.”
Archons. How had this come to pass? It was bad enough that the two of them had found themselves on the same mission, —but for you to be here as well? Talk about bad luck. Maybe all those times of patching Bennett up after unfortunate circumstances got the better of him has made his fate rub off on you. . .
Neither of the brothers apologize for their actions, but you hadn’t been expecting it anyway. You’d have been more surprised if they did, actually.
“Fine,” Kaeya shrugs, “let’s change the subject then while the soup heats up.”
You take that as your cue to scrape some poorly sliced veggies into an old hilichurl pot that Diluc had placed for a crude wash in the rain. It’s set to be rudimentary at best, but your hope is that the mint leaves you managed to gather along the way will add enough of a flavor contrast to make it edible at the very least. Your choice of fancy ingredients was well beyond diluted, and whatever you managed to scrounge up from the wreckage of this hilichurl camp is as good as it’s going to get. Beggars truly cannot be choosers, especially in situations such as this.
“It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to you, y/n,” Kaeya notes. “How’ve you been fairing?”
“I’ve been well,” you answer, only paying him a fraction of your attention. “You’d know that if you ever bothered to read any of my letters.”
His face drops for a moment, confident facade staggering in the shadow of your newfound shortness. He knows you’re right, and Kaeya can’t blame you for being upset. It wasn’t his intention to lose sight of you, but somewhere along the line between that fateful stormy night, the dissolvement of his relationship with Diluc, and his subsequent promotion to Cavalry Captain. . . His fondness for you had been lost to the wind. He got your letters, would sit them aside for later, —and then later would never come. Eventually, he’d lose those letters too amongst the towers of paperwork on his cluttered desk. 
“You wrote to him?” Diluc pipes up, sounding all too casual for the ache that lingers in his heart.
He hadn’t received any letters from you. . . Not one. Not a single message, short or long, —just nothingness, like throwing flames into a limitless void. Why Kaeya, the one who hadn’t even bothered to answer? Why couldn’t Diluc even be your second choice?
“Just. . . Just a handful of times,” you say softly. “I never heard back, so I stopped writing.”
Kaeya opens his mouth, maybe to explain, maybe to make things infinitely worse for himself, but Diluc beats him to the punch.
“You know I would have answered you,” he tells you. “It’s been forever since the last time we spoke, —don’t you think it would have been nice to hear from you? Just to say hello?”
Now, you’ve found yourself in Kaeya’s shoes; stuck between a rock and a hard place. There’s no appropriate excuse as to why you never chose to reach out to Diluc, you just. . . Didn’t. In the same way Kaeya never wrote you back, you never wrote to Diluc at all. But Kaeya did.
“It’s not like you can shove all the blame off on other people,” Kaeya interjects, tone laced with a seriousness you don’t often hear from him. “You’re hardly easy to approach these days. You’ve practically holed yourself up and away, wallowing in your own self-pity.”
“Kaeya, that’s a little much, don’t you think—” you start, but Diluc is quick on the attack, speaking over you and then over the thunder that resounds through the atmosphere.
“As if you’re any better,” the redhead scoffs, “I don’t need to be patronized by someone like you. You talk to everyone, but you don’t have any real connections. Your secrecy forces everyone away eventually, and when you wind up alone again, I hope you remember that you’ve done it all to yourself, Kaeya.”
“You don’t mean that—” you say, eyes widening and heart dropping low into the pit of your stomach.
“Oh, and you’re wishing that on me so you feel less alone about living that way now?” The younger male retorts.
Of all the years you’ve known the both of them and of all the times you’ve seen them argue, none of it has ever amounted to something like this. Their voices are dangerously low, as if the misty grey indifference of passive aggression has clouded their judgements, leaving them void of everything except simmering rage for one another.
“What, so now I’m not even entitled to choose how I get to grieve?” Diluc accuses.
“Nobody even said that,” Kaeya bites back in return. “There you go, twisting people’s words again so you feel better about villainizing them.”
“I don’t need to villainize you, —you do a good enough job of that all by yourself.”
“Guys—”
“I could say the same to you,” Kaeya scoffs. “Pushing everyone away because you’re too scared to make connections, running off for so long just to come back a completely different person, abandoning everyone who ever cared enough about you to take your burdens for themselves.”
“Oh, and you think you fall under that category somehow?” Diluc demands. “As if you weren’t the one who’d been lying the entire time, keeping Celestia knows how many secrets from everyone? I know you’re the Cavalry Captain now Kaeya, but don’t be such an arrogant fool. Get off your high horse and come join the rest of us in reality.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” Kaeya all but snarls. “All you’ve done since that night is run away, —from your duties, from your family, from the nation you claim to love so much. And you know what I think, Diluc?”
“I really couldn’t care less what you think, Kaeya—”
“I think you’re the one who needs to come down off your high horse. You weren’t the only one who got hurt that night, but you mope around like there’s nobody in the world who shares your burdens! You’re not special. You’re not the only one who lost someone!”
“He was my father!” Diluc says, right on the cusp of shouting over the pouring rain that pummels against the roof of the hilichurl hut.
“He was my father too, dammit!” Kaeya yells, the flat of his palm slamming against the dampened dirt. “But I didn't just lose him, —I lost you too.”
The elder male is visibly stunned by that assertion, unable to form words in reply. Kaeya doesn't wait for a response, good or bad. Ungracefully, he pulls himself to his feet and storms off into the rain, and despite your protests, he doesn't look back. You suppose he's back to pretending like you never existed.
Silence reigns between you and Diluc for a short while. When you make the first move, parting your lips to say his name softly, he's quick to cut you off in a small, sad voice.
"Why didn't you write to me?" He questions. "Why didn't you ever come see me? You knew I'd returned, and you still didn't come."
Though his words are accusatory, he doesn't sound particularly angry. If anything, Diluc just sounds hurt. 
"I. . ." you begin, knowing nothing you can possibly say will make this any better. "I just didn't think you'd want to hear from me."
His stare is blank, as if he isn’t sure what to make of your admission. He opens his mouth to speak, but just as quickly closes it again, swallowing the words down to dilute their harshness. Maybe Kaeya was right, he thinks to himself. Maybe I’ve pushed everyone so far away that I’ve alienated myself completely.
If that’s the case, he notes soon after, then I have no one to blame but myself. 
“I’m sorry,” you apologize genuinely, interrupting his spiral of thought.
Diluc looks your way again, meeting your eyes diligently this go around, but still, he says nothing. 
“When I heard you’d returned, I walked by Dawn Winery every morning, thinking that I could work up the courage to see you face-to face,” you explain. “It sounds selfish of me now that I’m saying it out loud, but. . .”
“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head to offer a correction, “it was selfish of me. I was being selfish. I couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing you again because I knew you’d be so different, —I’d be meeting someone new in the place of the boy I grew up with, and I wasn’t ready to face it.”
Strangely enough, Diluc understands where it is that you’re coming from. He’s not dense enough to be blind to all the differences he exhibits in comparison to his slightly younger self. Once upon a time, he was vibrant and open, —he let people in because he assumed the best of them. Diluc sought trust and love from the people of Mondstadt, vowed to protect them with his very life. . . Even now, he feels that way. These days, he acts from the shadows instead, as if loving openly will somehow make him more vulnerable to injuries of the emotional kind.
“Do you hate it, then?” He inquires, “—the man I am right now. Do you hate me?”
“No, Diluc I—”
You stop again to take a sharp breath in. It’s now or never to say all the things you never chose to write down in a letter for him. At the very least, he deserves that much.
“I should have come to see you,” you admit. “I knew that from the start. And I wanted to see you, because it’d been so long, and I just needed to know that you were okay; that whoever you’d become while you were gone, you were healthy and hadn’t just given up on the world. But I got glimpses of you from afar, and it made me realize just how much of a distance had grown between us. It was like I could hardly recognize you, even when you looked the same. So I turned around, and eventually, I stopped going to Dawn Winery altogether. I hid when I saw you in public, just to avoid the conversation, —to avoid the “Hi, how’ve you been?” because I knew you’d just lie and say everything was fine.”
The bitter truth is that you’d been pushing Diluc away, just as he’d been doing to you. You yearned to be close to him again, to be able to pull him so close that you could feel his heart beating against you. . . But the space between you and he only grew wider with the passing days. He made a routine for himself, and you didn’t want to disrupt it. Not when he’d had to pull himself up from the depths of despair just to manage it in the first place.
You worried that you represented little more than the past to him, —that you’d be some ghost of a childhood friend coming back to haunt him, and heaven knows Diluc doesn’t need anymore demons wrapping around his pretty fingers. 
“Everything should be fine,” he answers softly. “Everyone has to move on eventually. We can’t live in days that have already passed us by.”
“That doesn’t mean doing it is easy,” you remind him, matching the gentle tone of his voice.
“It’s not easy,” he agrees. “It hurts like hell. I hate going home because the manor feels so empty, and I can’t find any trace of anyone there. Not my father, not Kaeya, not you, —not even myself. It’s like all the rooms just swallow everything whole until there’s nothing left to feed on, and all the good things have disappeared. All the memories, all the laughter, all the love is just. . . Gone.”
Another apology creeps up the back of your throat, but you know now isn’t the time to be saying sorry a  million and one times over. You can take any other time to feel guilty, to feel sorry for yourself in the wake of your own recklessness. . . But this is about Diluc.
“All the art my father hung up on the walls, —the chess board he taught me how to play on. I’ve run my fingers over every frame, every pawn, every knight, and I can’t feel him anywhere. It’s almost like he never existed, even though every part of the manor has remained unchanged since his passing. The maids and other staff don’t speak of him; at least not when I’m around. . . It’s like they’ve all signed some unspoken contract to guard my feelings by pretending nothing ever happened.” 
You’re left speechless by his show of openness, thinking to yourself (if only passively) that it’s been far too long since you’ve heard Diluc be true about his feelings.
“Kaeya comes around sometimes, but he never comes in,” the redhead continues. “The manor was his home too, but it seems that he can’t stand to be inside anymore, so he’s left me alone to pick up all the pieces, and I hate him for it. But I love him too, from the bottom of my heart. He’s my brother, —blood or not. I know he’s hurting too, and it kills me.”
“He knows that,” you insist. “Kaeya knows that you love him, and he loves you too. It’s just that all the animosity between you two reaches a boiling point when you stuff everything down and hide your pain away, and he wears it on his sleeve, letting it seep out the moment he gets set off. Both of you love to pretend that you’re fine alone, that everything will work itself out somehow if you ignore it for long enough, —but I think we’ve established that that’s not quite how this is gonna go.”
And then Diluc laughs. It’s low and deep, coming straight from his chest, lasting no more than a handful of seconds. The stars in his eyes burn alight again, flickering like a lost lantern in the wind. A softer breeze than the howling gusts just outside the hilichurl structure you’re sitting in that’s miraculously managed to stay intact thus far.
“That’s so like you,” he comments, amusement clinging to his words. “You’re so honest in a roundabout way; trying your best to protect my feelings, and Kaeya’s if he happens to be eavesdropping on us, all while essentially saying we should stop being idiots and just talk about our problems.”
Although that’s a very watered down version of your conviction, it works well enough, you suppose. A giggle bubbles up from the back of your throat, exploding into the chilly air.
“That’s one way to say it, I guess,” you laugh. “I know that’s a lot easier said than done, but I’m hoping you see where I’m coming from. It might not be my place to say it, —but it’s hard to watch you two ram heads like this. Even though none of us are kids anymore, it’d be nice to be like we used to sometimes.”
Diluc agrees. He thinks about that more than he’ll ever be willing to admit; about the days he spent running past the vineyards, you and Kaeya right on his heels, laughter soaring through the open air. He thinks about the sweet taste of freshly mixed juice drinks, foam clinging to his upper lip. . . He can make his own drinks these days, of course, but they never taste quite like his father’s.
When he smiles like this, you get a glimpse of the boy you grew up alongside. You get a glimpse of the young man you fell in love with, yet never made any mention of it so as not to upset the balance. It was easier if everyone remained friends; if you never chose to cross the line. You suppose that’s yet another reason why it was so hard to approach him after he arrived back in Mondstadt. It wouldn’t be fair to grieve the loss of who he used to be, but it was nothing short of inevitable.
I loved you then, and I love you now. 
“In any case, I. . . I should go look for Kaeya,” you say; but there’s no conviction in your words.
He’s an adult, and you know better than most that Kaeya can take care of himself; rain or shine. In fact, with that Vision of his, he might as well be better suited to stormy nights and rainy days. Though he seems like he wants to, Diluc says nothing to keep you from going. Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t want you to soak yourself to the bone, or maybe it’s that he just wants you to stay; nothing more, nothing less. Either way, he doesn’t say it.
Until he does.
“Y/n, please. . .”
You pause, turning to look at him the moment he says your name. Diluc swallows, hoping the words don’t go down with it.
“Don’t leave.”
Your heart stutters. As the sky grows darker somewhere off in the distance, as the rain slams roughly against the little hut you’re stuffed in, —as thunder resounds loud enough to shake the very ground beneath your knees, you find yourself pulled into his orbit again.
It’s all too easy to love him like the sun is dying.
Now’s not the right time, this isn’t the right place. . . Nothing about this is right, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away. He smells of rain, soil, and must; hair disheveled and falling out of the loose, low ponytail at the back of his head. The plain scent of bland vegetables boiling just a foot or two away would have thrown you off if you’d been lucid enough to care.
His kiss is fervent and desperate in a way you never expected, —something less than sweet, but far from bitter. Damp hands cup your cheeks like you’re made of brittle porcelain, so gentle that you can melt into his touch without having to question why. It’s hard to believe these lips are the same ones that threw insults Kaeya’s way just a bit ago, and when you rest your forehead against his, breathing through the haze, it’s even harder to imagine that his lovesick stare is only meant for you.
You could spend forever here, but that wouldn’t serve either of you.
“Go,” you whisper softly, pressing the flat of your hand to his chest. “He’s your brother.”
Diluc hesitates, but deep down, he knows you’re right. He’s angry, —he’s been angry for a long time now. It’s eaten at him for longer than he’ll ever care to admit, burning up his mind and scorching all the flowers. 
And maybe, he thinks to himself with your face cupped in his chilled hands, it’s time to start letting some of that anger go, washing it away with the rain.
Tumblr media
567 notes · View notes
sunlitsunflowers · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Dawning of Spring
Jake Seresin x reader
Word count: 432
Warnings: none, just fluff
Summary: you and Jake dancing together and you're both very in love.
A/N: the title is taken from the song Dawning of Spring by Anson Seabra and this fic is kind of inspired by the song as well. I haven't written or posted fics in about 5 years. So it's been awhile. But I can't get Jake out of my head, especially soft, in love Jake. So I wrote this, not entirely sure what this is but I like it. I hope you enjoy!💛
You could lose yourself here; in this moment. Staring into Jake's green eyes as the sun paints a golden halo around him. A soft smile on his face as he looks back at you, a hand cupping your jaw and his thumb softly rubs across your cheek.
"Dance with me?" he asks, his voice quiet and low like he's scared to break the bubble of peace surrounding the two of you.
Turning your head slightly you place a kiss on his palm, "of course" you whisper against his skin.
The soft smile on his face grows and the hand cradling your jaw moves to join the other holding your waist. Jake leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead, breathing the words I love you into your skin. Another kiss placed on your nose I love you. A kiss placed on each cheek. I love you. I love you.
Jake presses kisses to any expanse of skin he can. Your face, neck, shoulders littered with kisses, engraved with the words I love you. You don't even realise the two of you have started to sway back and forth. The breeze gently rocking you as you marvel at the man in front of you.
The best of the best, cocky and arrogant. Hangman. But here, alone, with you he's Jake. His hair a ruffled mess from where you've run your fingers through it; a smile so genuine and soft it warms you, a smile that reaches his eyes that are filled with nothing but love and adoration for you.
Jake looks like he was carved from marble and brought to life by the gods and he's looking at you like you hung the moon and every star in the sky, like you are the entire world and to Jake you are. You should feel exposed with the way he's looking at you but in reality you've never felt more safe, loved, adored.
The birds sing a melody as the two of you gently sway, wrapped up in each other. Time stands still, the world stops moving. It's just you and Jake getting lost in your love for one another, the peace you have created together.
Neither of you notice when the birds stop singing, or when the sun starts to paint a kaleidoscope of colours across the sky. All you notice is the soft creases around green eyes, the occasionally freckles adorning tan skin, the way his body fits perfectly against your own, his forehead resting on yours as he whispers I love you against your lips
All you notice is Jake.
188 notes · View notes
kyber-kisses · 2 years
Text
Under The Banner
Elrond x elven!reader
Warnings: none, slight canon divergence for the sake of the story
Summary: As the captain of the guard for Mithlond, you rarely spoke with elven politicians until you stumble upon Gil-galads advisor one evening
A/n: Elrond in Rings of Power has a choke hold on me so as a result you get this. Tell me if You want a part two. (Gif credit goes to the owner)
Tumblr media
Late Summer.
That was when the Gray Havens felt most alive. The last weeks of summer hung in the air like heavy lanterns, bold and bright. With the celebration for the upcoming autumn equinox around the corner the port city bustled with life as elves weaved through market places and sang songs late into the night. Overhead the moon had begun its climb higher into the night sky, as silver and round as a pearl snatched right off the shores of Lindon.
The day had been long for you, beginning with the first rays of light to seep through your window at the break of dawn, and not ending until you had done your weekly report to King Gil-Galad.
It was late by the time your feet stepped foot onto the royal grounds, your bow slung across your shoulders, and knives put neatly into their sheaths. The firelight from the torches lit your path and glinted on your armor, bringing forth the intricate webbings of gold that crawled across your silver chest plate. The royal gardens were quiet and empty except for a few guards that stood at the entrances, some slightly straightening their posture at the sight of you. A distinct reminder that you were their superior.
“Running a little late are we?”
. . . And that would be your superior.
At the sudden voice, you quickly corrected your own posture before turning towards the elf behind you. “Your Majesty, forgive me. My patrol took a little longer than I had hoped.” Apologizing quickly, you give Gil-Galad a swift bow.
“No need for apologies here Captain, I was held up with some business of my own.” The elven king explained.
“Of course.” With arms folded neatly behind your back, you walked besides him as he wandered further into the gardens, lanterns and torches lighting your way as you did.
“Any news to report Captain?”
“All is quiet your Majesty, well as quiet as it can be considering all the preparations for the Equinox celebration.” You joked lightly, earning a chuckle from the king.
“You are quite right. If anything I think some have already started celebrating.” He added lightly, “I could hear singing from down in the port earlier.”
“You arnt wrong there.”
For a moment the two of you walked in silence, your cloak sliding over the first fallen leaves of the year. “Captain?”
“Yes, your Majesty?”
“Before I dismiss you, I must however inform you that you will be needed here tomorrow evening. I have guests coming from Falas and would like my Captain of the Guard here to make sure everything runs smoothly.”
Despite being captain of the guard, you did not spend much time on the royal grounds. It was the safest place in Mithlond due to the amount of guards you had there. Besides, the city was big and you were often needed elsewhere unless Gil-Galad required you here.
“Of course. Is there anything else your Majesty?”
“That will be all. I will send someone to your quarters tomorrow with your uniform for tomorrow evening. You are dismissed Captain.”
And with that you gave him one final bow, and departed the gardens. The warm summer breeze swept across your face as you descended a set of stone steps, lantern bugs dancing across your path as you did.
You must have been lost in thought though because a moment later you collided with a sudden obstacle and it was as if all the gracefulness in you was suddenly gone because you fell backwards onto the stone steps, armor clinking against rock as you did.
“My Lady!” The voice sounded just as surprised as you felt. “Forgive me, I did not see where I was going.”
Brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes, you shook your head as you dusted off your hands. “I think you are mistaken, I was the one not—-“
You were unable to finish your sentence as you looked up from your palms, suddenly being met with the kindest pair of eyes you had ever seen.
“Not?”
“. . . Paying attention.” You slowly finished, your hand slowly reaching out to grab the one he had extended to you to help you up off the ground.
The elf gave you a soft smile as you rose to his height, a strand of dark blonde hair falling over his left brow as he did.
“How about we agree it was both of our faults and settle it with that?” He mused, the corners of his lips still curved slightly upward.
Bless the Valar he was cute.
No. No. Y/N get rid of that thought. You swore an oath when you became captain. Duty above all else.
“My Lady, are you alright?”
His voice snapped you out of your thoughts only to reveal to your horror that you were still gripping his hand. . . And rather tightly you might add.
“Oh I apologize!” Quickly letting go of his hand, you folded your arms behind your back. “It’s been a rather long day for me, my head must be in the clouds.”
Letting out a soft chuckle he folded his arms gently over his chest, the crows feet around his eyes crinkling as he did. “That makes two of us. Though I doubt our days are similar.” He nodded towards the armor on your chest. “You must be the Captain of the Guard.”
“That is correct,” you gave him a smile, “and you must be. . .”
“Forgive me, I am Elrond.” The amber haired elf giving you a sudden bow that made your cheeks heat up. People didn’t bow to you unless it was the guards under your command. “The Kings Advisor.”
Elrond.
That name was gonna be seared into your head for the next week or so.
“I should be the one bowing don’t you think? You rank higher than me.”
“Oh please don’t. I find it rather awkward when other bow before me. But might I ask for your name?” His words were soft in a way other elves weren’t. You hadn’t noticed that the two of you were walking side by side until you saw the gate up ahead. The royal guards living quarters lied just beyond.
“Y/N.”
Elrond repeated your name, almost as if testing it out on the top of his tongue. “Lady Y/N. That is a beautiful name.”
“Oh please, there’s nothing ladylike about me besides the fact that sometimes I have to wear a dress and curtsy.” You laughed lightly, earning a chuckle from the handsome elf besides you. “Y/N is just fine.”
“Of course.”
Stopping at the gate, you turned to face him, “it was lovely to meet your acquaintance Elrond, and once again forgive me for slamming into you.”
“Liked I said, no apology needed. It was a pleasure to meet you as well.” He smiled before suddenly and softly taking your hand and placing a kiss a top it. At the action you could feel the tips of your ears and face heat up.
For the first time in your very, very long life you finally understood what others meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomachs.
And it was all because of this elf you had met not five minutes ago.
“I do hope to see you again. My work does not allow much time to make friendships, but I do believe I have made a new one.”
“You have.” You smiled, fighting down the butterflies that fluttered about behind your chest plate. Stepping beyond the gate you gave him one last look. “Goodnight Elrond.”
“Goodnight. . . My Lady. Here is to running into you again soon.” Giving you an amused smile he have one last bow before retreating back the way you had come.
519 notes · View notes
idkthisisjustforfanfic · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 1
March 2022
The seatbelt chime dinged, signaling your arrival at Gate 43--at least that’s the number the pilot had mumbled through his headset upon your departure for Heathrow. 
Six hours overnight, not terrible overall. But the crappy neck pillow you bought back at JFK wasn’t much of a sleep aid, and neither was the weed gummy you’d popped and swallowed in the backseat of the car that arrived to whisk you to the airport. 
A flight attendant reaches for your carryon overhead, you smile and trail behind others onto the jetway. Warmer than New York, you could already tell, but only by a little. 
It dawns on you, as you read the overhead signs and weave through crowds of passengers, that your sleepless red-eye was likely due to the nerves that had been keeping you up all week. 
Had you made a terrible mistake?
No. Probably not, right? 
Carousel 21 is already littered with familiar faces when you get there--the guy from 3F that asked for headphones a whole ten seconds before take off, the woman in 5A who downed about four gin and tonics before the flight was even halfway across the Atlantic. 
You find a spot to stand and try to breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Maybe it was the time change, or maybe it was the fact that both of your feet were now firmly planted on London soil, a whole 3 weeks after this idea had been broached over burrata and Barolo. 
Not the amount of time you usually put into giant, possibly life-changing decisions to move to a new country and start over.
Maggie promised you’d be okay. She swore up and down and back and forth that if you’d handled this type of celebrity before, you could do it again. Hell, you’d handled bigger celebrities, so this should be a cake walk!, she said. And she was someone you could trust. She knew the ins and outs of this world and she knew you well enough to know that this type of chaos was enough to jolt some happiness back into your bitter soul.
An unforeseen break up after six years together will do that to someone. 
So here you are, startled by the aggressive sound of the buzzer when the belt starts moving. 3F grabs his suitcase and makes a beeline for the door. At least you’re not the only one desperate to get out of the stuffy airport. 
And that’s when you hear her yell your name--way too loud for barely 7am in Heathrow and way too loud if either of you had any hopes of blending in. Two Americans were bad enough. Two noisy Americans? 
She trots over to you with excitement, her arms wrap around your neck before you can even mutter a greeting in response. 
“Your mom texted my mom already and I promised photographic evidence,” she pulls away and you smile, being in Maggie’s presence is immediately calming, analgesic to the unease that set in once you reached thirty thousand feet. 
You force a dramatic smile, throw up a peace sign and pose for the camera. She giggles to herself and presses send, stuffing her phone in her pocket in the exact moment that your suitcase appears from the underbelly of the airport. 
“I’ve got it,” she calls again, still too loud. She runs and tugs it off with a grunt, and you laugh again, too, thankful for the distraction of your oldest friend. 
Maggie’s mom and your mom went to college together. Then they married each of your dads and then the two of you came along (Maggie in ‘92 and you in ‘93) and the rest is history. Your early childhood was spent building forts in her basement and by middle school, your favorite pastime was tricking your little sister and her little brother into makeovers. 
She brushes her hair out of her face, stands upright, and takes one look at you. “Okay, tell me everything.”
So you climb in the back of an Uber, Maggie nods and listens intently to details that you hadn’t shared before over facetime. Like the fight you had on your birthday last year, the way he slowly started telling you less and less about work, then friends, the way you should have seen it coming.
Maggie knew your ex, obviously. They got along overall but now she let her lip curl into an expression of disgust, her usual attempt to turn a shitty situation into something to laugh about. 
“What a dumb fucking asshole, Y/N, seriously. I never liked his stupid job or that stupid name,” she turns up the theatrics, a roll of her eyes when she commits to the bit. 
You smile a little, thankful for the 8 weeks that have since passed and the thousands of miles that now stood between you and him, literally. Both of those things made it easier to ignore the stinging in your eyes when his name came up. 
“He’s dumb,” you agree, a swift nod before you take another glance out the window. The London suburbs turn more urban, flats and parks and people on the sidewalks when she reaches over to squeeze your knee with force.
“But now you’re single and in London and your best friend in the whole world got you an amazing temp gig,” she flattered herself and grinned, a text illuminated her screen before she opened it. 
“Which, by the way, I have to be on set around 9am, so I’m dropping you off and then I have to go. But you’ll swing by? I told Jason you’d come for lunch--you know, meet everyone you need to meet.”
“Sure,” you nod, the casual mention of your new boss makes your pulse quicken slightly, you swallow and ignore it. Not your first rodeo. In fact, your lengthy resume that listed all the previous rodeos was surely part of the reason you landed this slightly nepotistic arrangement in the first place.
That and the fact that Maggie was a mid-level producer on the show, had known one of the head writers from a different project, and once upon a time dated one of Jason’s close friends. 
Pair that with your life and career practically exploding when you got dumped with no notice and within only a few weeks you had a first class ticket to London. Maggie called it magic. You called it an impulsive--and possibly irrational--decision.
But whatever. You needed work and a fresh start and hanging out at your parents’ house was getting boring, anyway. 
The car pulls to a stop and the driver helps you out onto the gray sidewalk. Maggie keys in for you and says she came to see the place with a friend to scope it out, you know, since she hadn’t done enough for you recently. 
“Okay, so obviously I got you the best thing I could find in his price limit. This location is great. Same neighborhood as moi,” she flutters her lashes. “A nine minute walk, a four minute jog.”
“Same neighborhood as my boss?” You ask, the real reason your location matters.
It was common practice for assistants to live within a 10-minute radius of their boss. Late night snack? Scheduling emergency? Your job was to meet those needs. Your job was also to handle his schedule, and to--you know--assist in whatever way he asks. 
You’d climbed the latter a bit after starting out in LA in 2012. Previous clientele included one of the Real Housewives, Reese Witherspoon, and, most recently: the famous wife of a Los Angeles Laker. 
You like this job. You liked most of the people. You loved the friends you made and the places you got to travel. And since finally crossing the Executive Assistant threshold in 2019, the pay was killer, the perks were better, and no longer spent most of your time fetching coffees or doing grunt work. 
“Of course,” Maggie rolls her eyes before checking a text message. “And I told him you’re the greatest EA he’ll ever have, he lives on the street behind this one, number 82. You can practically see into his house from your bedroom window.”
You shoot Maggie a glare, glance out the window when she throws a thumb in that direction and mentions his house. “Great.”
She holds your gaze for a second, like she’s reading your mind or something. “Wasn’t the whole point of you coming to London so you’d stop being depressed?”
You mock her childishly, voice high and annoying, “wasn’t the whole point--”
“Okay,” she holds up a hand. “Insensitive on my part,” she admits. “But you know I just want you to be okay?”
She watches you for a moment, her features soften and she blinks a few times, almost like she was unsure if you were broken altogether, with your life stuffed into the suitcase between you. 
You force a smile and open your arms. “When shit hits the fan there’s no place I’d rather be than in a foreign country with you.”
She bounces over and hugs you again, “that’s what I thought!”
**
The March air is cold, the sky’s gotten gloomier with each passing hour and eventually you had to force yourself to leave the house when you tried on your third consecutive outfit. Is there a right or wrong thing to wear on the set of a TV show? You have no clue.
Maggie met you outside a giant building at 1 o’clock sharp--one on the outskirts of town with giant parking lots and film trailers. She used a keycard to swipe in and said your first stop would be the security desk to obtain your own.
Once that was handled she led you down a maze of hallways, pointing out rooms and departments and providing information you knew you’d never retain. But that was fine, because when she pushes open the door to the main sound stage, your eyes go wide.
She watches you take it in, a smile on her face. “Pretty dope, right?”
“I mean, I knew it had to be a good gig if you got you to leave LA,” you tease. 
The room is buzzing with energy. People with headsets carry out missions, walkie-talkies beep and a woman with short brown hair smiles when she sees Maggie. 
“Mag—Brett wanted to talk about a re-write for scene 4, he was over near catering with Brendan.”
“Do you know where Jason is?” Maggie asks the woman, not bothering to introduce the two of you yet. 
“Upstairs, I think--”
“In his office,” a man clarifies when he walks by—in a rush. 
You look up at Maggie, unsure what the right move is.
She looks at the woman with short brown hair and then back at you. “Brave enough to go up there alone since I’m needed for script?”
Yes, of course, fine. You nod quickly and hope Maggie can’t see the fear in your eyes. Something told you she did, but soon she bounces off with Short Brown Hair behind her. 
It takes only a few seconds for you to realize that standing by the door alone looks more awkward than if you, too, move around this giant room like you knew where you were going or what you were doing. You saw another door in the corner, took off in that direction when someone else opened it and you caught a glimpse of stairs. 
That was a start. 
You make your way up one flight and open the door, windows in the hallway look down onto the stage, a better view of the overall set: a locker room, offices, a hallway, a tiny and fictional world with no roof that was born from someone’s imagination. 
You’d watched as a proud friend, never finished the first season after a busy week and an overall disinterest in new TV shows. 
A name plate on the door to your right confirms you’re getting warmer. A few dark offices, then the sound of humming pulls you down the hall to the only room with an open door. 
His name on a piece of paper taped to the wall in bold font, you hold your breath for a second and knock, stepping into view when you hear his voice. 
“What are your thoughts on flowers? Is that, like, too weird?” he looks up, eyebrows lifted when he realizes you’re not the person he expects. 
Standing in front of him suddenly makes you nervous, mostly because you don’t have Maggie by your side to smooth over this awkward moment. You roll with it, your best at your service smile.
“Assuming you’re talking as a gift…thoughtful, somewhat overdone,” you offer an apologetic grimace, “but simple and shows you care. Who are they for?”
He smiles at your answer, leans back in his chair and nods. You were killing it, right? Assisting before a formal introduction? You’re already excited to brag about it to Maggie tonight over a glass of Merlot. 
A tingle down your spine when he laughs a little. “A welcome gift, yeah…for my new assistant.”
“Oh,” you nod, a tiny smirk in surprise when you realize you know something he doesn’t. “Then I’d do tulips.”
Now he leans forward and puts his elbows on his desk. A smirk that he tries to hide when he lets his eyes settle on yours. Is he…flirting? “What makes you say that?”
You shrug casually, “they’re my favorite flowers…and I’m Y/N.” 
“Fuck, hi, sorry—“ he stands from his chair quickly, awkward and embarrassed as he tries to hide his surprise with a smile and extended hand. “I’m Jason. You’re Y/N,” he nods, saying it more to himself than to you. 
“I am,” you smile, watching as he rounds the corner of his desk to shake on it. “Nice to meet you--the set down there is really awesome.”
He smiles, the release of his shoulders tells you he’s glad to move past whatever just happened. His eyes follow your gesture out into the hallway and onto the stage floor. A nod, a quick glance in your direction. “Thank you, yeah—can’t believe we’re already filming again.”
“Hiiii,” Maggie’s voice sounds from the door, a cheerful grin on her face when you both turn to see her. “I see I’m not needed for an introduction,” she waves her hands around and flits her fingers in your direction.
“No, yeah, Maggie--come in,” Jason moves back to sit at his desk, which, you now realize, is just a folding chair at a folding table with a laptop. A couch along the side wall, a mini fridge in the corner and papers and red pens strewn about the table. 
Got it, a makeshift office up here since he was the guy in charge. You wondered where Maggie’s main post was, and you notice that she now has a headset around her neck and a clipboard in hand. 
“Jason, I’m very glad you get to meet my oldest friend, Y/N L/N,” she comes to put her arms around your neck, sloppy kisses to your hairline to show the unbreakable bond. “She’s the reason I work in this field to begin with and I expect that the two of you will be thick as thieves in no time.”
He smiles at that a little, lets his eyes meet yours briefly when Maggie reaches up to pinch your cheek. You swat her away, skin still prickling from the way he smiles at you. 
Maggie was obviously comfortable with him, which you gather when she flops down on the couch and a voice comes through the headset. She pushes it into her ear to get a better listen.
“Few things for you,” Jason points in your direction and searches for something on the table. A three-ring binder after he shuffles through papers, tiny black font that reads Exec. Asst stares back at you when he hands it over. 
“Jessie made this…before her maternity leave,” he informs. “Briony’s here somewhere and she’ll go through it with you, but--based on everything Maggie’s said, I’m sure you’ll jump right in.”
Right, Jessie. The woman whose job you were filling for the filming of this season due to the baby that was about to pop out of her. Briony--no idea who that was--but you make a mental note to bug Maggie for details later. 
A sound buzzes from the hallway, an alarm or something of the sort. Both Maggie and Jason perk up at the sound, you recognize it as some sort of cue that the set will soon be an active filming zone. Maggie stands from her casual position and smiles, “I can bring you around downstairs and introduce you to people, since he’s about to be busy.”
“Perfect,” you nod, a quick glance at Jason to see if that kind of thing is allowed. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re looking for permission, he smiles when your eyes meet again but then reaches for his phone. 
“Oh, wait--here,” he hands it over, an open new contact page on the screen. You type in your name and number and figure that this will be your main form of communication, instead of the emails with Jessie and Maggie and his manager. 
You hand it back when you’re done, he glances down at the screen--was he checking to make sure you really put it in? Maggie’s nose is in her walkie-talkie again, replying to some kind of garbled request.
“She will report back when I am done with her, Sir!” Maggie salutes in jest and Jason cracks a laugh, a sliver of anxiety melting once her elbow links with yours and she tugs you out of the room. 
You meet set designers and the props team and then hair and make up. You meet the Brett you’d already heard about and get an intro to Briony when she shows up with coffee around 2pm.
Maggie eventually relented to your incessant reminders: Monday was your real first day. For now you had every right to sleep and try to get your body and brain to remember they were on the same continent. Which is why, and probably the only reason why, she eventually let you dip out.
The uber ride home is longer thanks to afternoon traffic, your head is pounding and the king sized bed in your new flat is calling your name before you can even twist the knob. But your nap gets delayed by a knock on the door when you’re rummaging for a sweatshirt in your suitcase. 
You pull it open, sure that whoever is on the other side has the wrong apartment or wrong person altogether. You’re way too new for visitors. 
But it’s not a human, not at first. Instead, a vase of yellow tulips--and a delivery man who smiles from behind them in greeting, happy Friday!, before he leaves you to open the card taped to the side. 
I heard these are overdone. Oh well. Welcome to London - JS
table of contents | talk to me
AN: Hi friends! I've been sitting on the start of this story for a few months and have been v excited to start sharing what I have so far! I do not have a post schedule for this, nor do I know how long it will be, nor is it finished at this time. As I've mentioned recently, I'm focusing a lot more on writing for FUN, so your patience and general kindness is appreciated as I share my writing for free with everyone! There also will not be a tag list for this story but it's table of contents will be pinned on my blog! My inbox is (usually) always open!
But also, I'm so fucking pumped to share this and be able to chat with all of my internet pals about our favorite middle aged man.
111 notes · View notes
lynzishell · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Prev // Next
Transcript:
Phoenix: You ready for this? You look nervous. Atlas: Oh yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking about that actress that got stabbed yesterday. You hear about that? Her name was Reese something… Phoenix: Witherspoon?
Atlas: No, with her knife. Phoenix: [sighs] Excuse me.
Dawn: Ahhhppffttt! Gahh, Atlas!! Atlas: Sorry, sis, but you shouldn’t break promises.
Dawn: You got snow up my nose. Phoenix: I warned you. Dawn: Did you laugh at least? Phoenix: No.
Dawn: But you wanted to, didn’t you? Phoenix: That’s not the point.
Kiyoshi: Alright, are we ready?
The group begins climbing, with Kiyoshi coaching them. Eventually, Kiyoshi climbs up and over the top. Phoenix follows behind him. While the twins begin climbing up, Phoenix steps over toward the edge to watch Dawn.
Kiyoshi: Hey Phoenix, not so close to the edge. Come over here, man.
When Kiyoshi calls over to him, the words ‘Phoenix’ and ‘edge’ echo in his ears, and he hears a distant voice yell at him. He’s overcome with a sense of dread as the yelling becomes louder. His heart starts to pound in his chest, and his ears start to ring. The ringing turns to screaming as more voices come together in a chorus of terror. He rips off his beanie and goggles and stumbles to the ground, gasping for breath. The world starts to spin and close in around him. The screams recede briefly before bursting forth, shattering reality into a million tiny shards that become a million voices yelling, screaming, each one on top of the other, consuming him. And then everything goes black.
Through the darkness he feels a cold hand on his cheek, and another on his chest.
?muffled voice?: It’s okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe.
He focuses all his energy on the hand on his chest as he follows their instruction.
?????: Breathe in [inhales] and out [exhales] in [inhales] and out [exhales]
Slowly, the voices begin to fade, and his heart begins to slow. He opens his eyes to see Dawn kneeling over him.
Dawn: Welcome back. Phoenix: I’m sorry. Dawn: It’s okay. You’re okay. Can I get you anything?
Phoenix: Earbuds. In the front pocket of my bag. Dawn: I was thinking more like water, but sure. Phoenix: Thanks. I just need a few minutes. Dawn: Okay. We’ll be right over there.
Dawn: He’s alright, just needs a minute. Atlas: Have you ever seen him like that before? Kiyoshi: Once, when we were at a bar in town and a fight broke out, but that was a couple years ago. Our friend Aurelio was there. He seemed to know what to do, so I stayed out of it. Atlas: Hm. Hope he’s okay. Dawn: Me too.
51 notes · View notes