#i managed to distract him eventually. all it took was discovering that he really likes butterflies

[white-spirit-of-darkness]

being a teacher's assistant isn't enough, i need to have a baby

#baby fever is real and it's killing me #gosh. i want to be a mom so badly it's making me look stupid #six year old boy was sad bc he couldn't draw circles as well as the older kids. he's a sweetheart and i felt so bad for him #i managed to distract him eventually. all it took was discovering that he really likes butterflies #kids are so amazing. they're so smart

[nc-vb]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

In advance, I apologize to those who have already seen this post. I’ve had to transfer it to a new blog thanks to a seemingly permanent ban on my former main blog, @niicevibe. So this is just copy & paste from there. Sorry! This is part one of a two-part series, formerly a drabble! This part is sfw, while its eventual part two will not be!

pairing -> diluc x fem!reader

warnings -> minors dni, slightly suggestive at the end; reader is too forward for diluc to handle; not beta'ed.

character mentions -> kaeya, fatui

word count -> 1.46k

In feeling a pair of eyes on him as he worked, and in sensing a knowing smirk coming from the same source, Diluc sighs, lowering a freshly polished glass back down on its rack and turning your way.

“You’re staring again,” he tells you, as if you weren’t aware you’d been doing it.

“Can you blame me?” you ask him from the furthest seat of the bar, leaning your chin into your palm where your elbow rests against the bar rail. “You’re just much too pretty not to be stared at, Master Diluc. Haven’t you looked at your reflection lately?”

Clearing his throat into a gloved hand, you note the catch in his voice, and the slightest pigment of red on the apples of his cheeks, and smile.

“You’re really not used to hearing this kind of thing, are you?” you muse to him, failing to stifle a giggle when he sighs brokenly again. “Hehe.”

“When it’s coming from someone like you, _______? No. Not particularly.”

“Someone like me?” you repeat, feigning being offended by his words by placing an innocently poised hand over your heart. “Whatever do you mean, Master Diluc?”

“I mean, you’ve been hanging around Kaeya too much lately, and it’s somehow translated into you enjoying teasing and taunting those around you.”

“Not everyone,” you disagree. He raises an eyebrow. “Just you.”

“And whatever did I do to deserve such a thing?” You laugh lightly, a breathy sound that makes Diluc turn his attention down to checking on the garnishes – unfortunately for him, they’re all full; nothing to distract himself with or to excuse himself briefly from the bar area.

“Okay, well, perhaps those Fatui jerks staying at Goth’s, too, but they’re such easy targets.” Diluc doesn’t bother to repress a snort of amusement – it’s true, he agrees in his thoughts, they are. “But you’re a smart man, Master Diluc. Surely, you’ve… at least… noticed the difference?”

The difference?

It became a grand habit of sorts, you entering the Angel’s Share on the days he comes in to relieve Charles. He’d always wondered about you– is she stalking me? How in Teyvat does she know when I’m here every time? – until he'd discovered your apartment to sit adjacent to the bar when he’d notice you making your return there from the end of your shift. You’d waved to him once after that, calling his name from your balcony while he bused away empty glasses from the patio tables, something that’d startled him into nearly dropping one that had a sharp, minty fragrance settled in a pool of green at the bottom of it. But he would return an awkward raise of his hand in greeting back, anyway. And from then on, your visits became too ever-present, never ordering an alcoholic beverage, but something sweet while speaking sweetly to its maker from your coveted end stool.

Some days, you would be joined by his brother Kaeya who, after realizing you frequented the bar slightly more often than he did, took it upon himself to rub off on you. On his days at the Angel’s Share, he noticed Kaeya in you, in the way you teased him; another frustrating feat his adoptive brother managed to achieve. Yet somehow, eventually, the effect that it had on him changed. Eventually, the teasing didn’t make him heave his sighs, or have him switch with Charles when maybe, you became too much to handle on top of Kaeya. Eventually, he looked forward to whatever witty comments you threw his way so he could dish his own back, clever enough that they would have you both chuckling from the end of the bar.

So, isn’t it that you’ve become good friends? Or, at the very least, good acquaintances?

“You’ve never shied away from being an honest person, Miss _______,” Diluc finally says, his voice quiet though still audible over the noise circulating through the bar. “It’s one of the many qualities you have that I enjoy. At the very least, you seem to favour me more than most others I’ve seen you interact with.”

Your entire body pauses, lips parting in response to his words.

“What?” he says, eyebrow raised. Frustrated, you aggressively gesture at him, startling the man, from unable to form the words resting on the tip of your tongue until you realize you don’t have a choice.

“Apparently, I haven’t been honest enough,” you gripe, “if that was your reaction.”

“_______—""Because the difference in the way I mess around with the Fatui stationed in Mondstadt versus the way I like to tease you, stationed here in your bar, or on the streets, is that I don’t harbour romantic feelings for the Fatui.”

In the shadows his bangs cast, Diluc’s eyes widen, the red of his irises suddenly burning like the flames he controls. His mouth opens and closes at you like a fish out of water several times, the only sounds escaping him being ones of utter speechlessness and complete shock.

“Diluc…” Face propped up against your hand, your soft smile squished by your palm pressing your cheeks into it, and suddenly, looking at you, Diluc’s cheeks fill with the same shade of rouge as his hair, and once more does he avert his eyes. “I only tease the ones I love.”

Diluc huffs, shaking his head down at the bar top and wearing the smallest of smiles you think you may have ever seen. Content, you polish off the remainder of your non-alcoholic beverage and slide out of the stool, sliding the glass along with you on your way to where Diluc stands, only to abandon it and lean over the counter, unsuspecting to the other regulars. His throat tightens by your closeness, and to combat the pressure building in his chest, he clutches the underneath of the counter, fingers digging painfully hard into the wood in the hopes it would keep him grounded.

“I think I’ve bought enough juice here over the past year to have established myself to you,” you say, speaking quietly enough that the incoming patrons don’t overhear but at a volume that only Diluc could hear you. He swallows. “But if you care to want to reciprocate things, well…” And you chuckle breathily, your warmth hitting his already burning cheek. “You know where I live.”

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

(i lowkey can't wait to get into writing the part two to this lol.)

#diluc ragnvindr #diluc #genshin diluc #diluc genshin #diluc x reader #diluc x yn #diluc x y/n #diluc x you #diluc fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #✦ genshin impact. #✦ nc vb. #sigh... i almost forgot to bring this one over lol.

[shadowtriovibes]

break a sweat: chapter four

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Chapter Rating: E

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary:

“Leave it on,” he says in a low voice. “I want to see you in my jersey the entire time I’m taking you apart.” “Not so fast, Sallow,” you counter. “Let me give you a massage first, it will help with the soreness.” “A ‘massage?’” he asks hopefully.

AO3 permalink: break a sweat

November 6, 1892

Though you and Sebastian hadn’t set out to keep secret what had happened between you, you’re genuinely surprised that the news hadn’t spread overnight.

After your desperate, hurried sex following his first match, you’d spent a torturously long time properly discovering each other in the Room’s spacious bath basin. Hours later, you both managed to sneak into the raucous party in Slytherin’s common room with no one the wiser as to what you’d just gotten up to.

Ominis didn’t suspect a thing. Truthfully, what with half the school’s sixth- and seventh-years crammed into the common room and countless mugs of Butterbeer being passed around, he hadn’t noticed you weren’t there from the beginning.

Only Anne seemed suspicious, but she quickly got distracted when she saw Imelda lining up shots of Firewhisky for the Quidditch team. At that point, she determined that whatever it was Sebastian had snuck away to do for the past several hours wasn’t important, because he was about to cause even more trouble.

The next morning you wake well after the rest of your friends, pleasantly sore and content to daydream about Sebastian’s broad hands skimming across your body beneath the warm bathwater until breakfast is nearly over.

You’re less pleased by what you find when you eventually join your housemates in the Great Hall. You quickly learn the only gossip that had proliferated since the party ended is that the newly-muscled Sebastian Sallow is hands-down the best Seeker that Hogwarts has seen in years.

With such a reputation, it’s no surprise that he’s immediately bombarded with attention — especially from your female classmates.

Before you can even walk through the double doors, Anne links her arm through yours and starts to slowly walk you over to the table with an anxious expression on her face.

“Something has happened,” she warns you.

You groan. “Merlin, what now?”

“It’s Sebastian,” she says hesitantly. “Or I suppose if we’re being fair, it’s not him. It’s, well… everyone else.”

You glance over and catch sight of him at the end of the table. No less than half a dozen girls are surrounding him – some of them aren’t even in your house, you realize.

First, you notice that Samantha Dale is seated on his left and Adelaide is on his right, both listening intently and gasping delightedly as he recounts his victory from the previous afternoon.

Their audacity nearly makes you see red. You’ve been nothing but kind to those girls and have personally rescued members of both their families from various magical mishaps. Adelaide is your friend, and now she’s batting their eyelashes at your love right in front of you?

(The fact that you’ve kept your relationship mostly private thus far doesn’t have a chance to cross your mind.)

Then you observe several other Slytherin girls who are crowded onto a narrow section of the bench across the table. They’re leaning in toward Sebastian, ostensibly to hear his retelling, but you can see from halfway down the table that the top buttons of their blouses are conspicuously undone. Worst of all, that harlot Violet McDowell is standing behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders and looking positively smug.

Oh, you’re seething mad.

“I swear, they came out of nowhere,” Anne says nervously. “I went to ask Professor Weasley one question about an assignment and when I came back, they’d descended on him like a flock of jobberknolls. They even took my seat.”

The rational part of your brain finally takes stock of the situation and realizes Sebastian isn’t really doing anything wrong. For a split second, that boyish grin on his face as he waxes poetic about Quidditch reminds you of the man you’d fallen in love with in the first place – eager, earnest, and proud.

You can’t fault him for wanting to talk about his victory.

Don’t forget, he said he loves you, your brain reminds you. Just you.

Still, watching those girls try to monopolize his attention isn’t how you want to spend your morning.

“I think I’m just going to go back to the common room,” you mumble, gently unwinding your arm from Anne’s. “There’s no more room anyway.”

“Wait,” Anne pleads. “Sebastian’s not – he’d want you to stay, he’s been waiting for you all morning.”

You narrow your eyes. “It doesn’t look like he missed me that much.”

“He does,” Anne insists. “He came and told me about the two of you first thing this morning, he was so excited to get to see you. Those girls… he’s just a fascination to them, it doesn’t mean anything.”

You sigh self-consciously, glancing back one last time as Violet bends down to murmur something in Sebastian’s ear that makes him laugh.

“Just tell him he can come find me after he’s done entertaining the court,” you mumble, turning on your heel and storming out.

Sebastian does come to find you later that afternoon while you’re sulking in the library. Anne must have warned him that you were in a foul mood because he comes bearing gifts.

You jump slightly when he sneaks up behind you and murmurs, “Skipping breakfast? That’s not like you.”

You bite your lip and mumble, “Wasn’t hungry.”

“Really?” he asks skeptically, and you can hear the smirk in his voice without even looking at his face. “I thought you would’ve been starved after last night.”

“Sebastian,” you sigh. “I’m trying to study, what do you want?”

“I brought you a pasty,” he says, snagging an empty seat next to you and placing a napkin-wrapped pastry on the table. “Pumpkin.”

You pause jotting down notes from your book on magic theory, interestedly eyeing up Sebastian’s offering.

“Eat it,” he insists with a cheeky grin. “Lunch isn’t for hours, and I wanted to see if you’d like to take a walk with me.”

You unwrap the pasty and tear off a piece. “A walk?”

“Or I can study with you,” he offers. “Whatever you want, I just…”

He reaches over and takes your unoccupied hand in his as he murmurs, “I want to spend today with you.”

Truly, how can you be mad at him when he’s this lovely?

“Somewhere just us,” you bargain. “Without all the girls that want a piece of ‘Sebastian Sallow, Quidditch god.’”

He makes a displeased face. “They’re shameless. I told them I wasn’t interested as soon as I realized they didn’t actually care how many kilometers per hour I can fly.”

“I care,” you mumble, and Sebastian’s brilliant smile makes your stomach flip nervously.

“I know you do, and that’s why I love you,” he says, tipping your chin up so he can steal a sweet kiss, which quickly becomes more heated than is generally accepted in the library.

When he pulls away, he gives you a very pointed look. “Room of Requirement?”

“Room of Requirement,” you agree, scooping up your books and your half-eaten pasty as you both make a hasty exit.

—

November 17, 1892

With Quidditch practice eating up so much of Sebastian’s free time, you find yourself spending more and more time with Anne and Ominis as you study for your N.E.W.T.s. It’s in one of these study sessions that Anne reveals that she’s been studying independently with Nurse Blainey to master the science of healing magic.

“She’s a bit gruff, but she was always kind to me when I was first cursed,” she tells you. “And she’s got a brilliant mind for healing spells — she’s even studied at St. Mungo’s!”

As soon as you take a cursory look through Anne’s notes, you find yourself utterly enthralled. It’s not until several days later that you realize your ancient magic abilities could make you uniquely well-suited for such a discipline.

You write to Nurse Blainey straight away to ask her to take you on as a pupil as well.

An outbreak of dragon pox among Hufflepuff third years keeps her overwhelmed for nearly two weeks, but eventually, she invites you to her office to discuss your questions.

“Now then,” Nurse Blainey starts as she peers over a neat stack of Professor Fig’s old notes. “Can you tell me more about this ‘ancient magic’ ability of yours?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer nervously. “Well, er... I don’t think I can tell you where it comes from, because I’m not really sure myself. But I can sort of…”

You trail off and lift your hands from your lap. Bright, blue sparks emanate from your fingertips as your hands softly glow, and several of the picture frames on Nurse Blainey’s desk begin to levitate.

“Merlin’s beard,” she gasps. “Wandless magic?”

“I can use it with my wand as well,” you explain. “And… It seems to be generative.”

Her brow furrows. “I was reading about that in Eleazar’s notes, but I’m not quite sure I understand what he was getting at.”

You sigh and square your shoulders before you begin to explain the whole story: how Isadora Morganach used her abilities to extract pain — and eventually all feelings — from others, and how she used that power to create reserves of ancient magic.

By the time you explain how Isadora’s relentless efforts eventually led to her death, Nurse Blainey looks shaken.

“Am I to understand,” she asks softly, “that your abilities may allow you to extract pain from others?”

“Possibly,” you confirm. “But that’s not why I’ve come to you.”

She nods for you to continue, and gently you admit, “I want to learn if I can use my magic to treat pain, and perhaps even heal it — but not remove it.”

Nurse Blainey takes a moment to collect her thoughts, flicking through Fig’s notes once more.

“My dear,” she murmurs. “May I ask why, given the chance, someone with an ability like yours would not elect to simply remove pain entirely?”

Carefully you answer, “A very wise professor once told me that there cannot be light without darkness, and that having the ability to remove that kind of pain doesn’t necessarily mean one should.”

“I see,” she whispers.

“But — but perhaps I can use my ability to offer relief,” you suggest. “Not to extract anything, but… to give.”

Finally, Nurse Blainey smiles, folding her hands on her lap while she sits back contemplatively.

“I must admit, I’ve never seen such an ability before and I’ve no idea where to begin,” she admits. “But if you’re interested in further study of healing magic, I’d be delighted to work with you.”

—

November 27, 1892

Climbing all the way up to the Room of Requirement after one of his weekend Quidditch practices must be excruciating for Sebastian, you think.

After practice, he’s usually sore just about everywhere – from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, he positively aches. Having seen him in action, you know that he’ll often race upwards of a hundred kilometers on his broom simply doing laps around the pitch and tracking down the school’s enchanted practice Snitches.

To make matters worse, he’s forced to skip breakfast to be at the pitch by sun-up on strict orders from his captain, who goes on to keep the team well past eleven o’clock. Now he must be starving, but if you know your love, he’ll steadfastly ignore the temptation to go straight to the Great Hall for lunch and instead make the trek up to the seventh-floor corridor.

That’s precisely why you’re waiting for him there.

In the mornings when he has practice, you like to treat yourself to a bit of a lie-in and lazily wait around for his return so you can have lunch together. You would be happy to meet him downstairs when he returns to the castle, but lately, Anne and Ominis have protested whenever Sebastian joins the lunch table straight from practice still flushed, sweating, and covered in mud from the waist down.

Thus, Sebastian usually decides to be a gentleman and change first.

In the months since the start of Quidditch season and Sebastian’s first overnight stay in the Room of Requirement, he’s slowly started bringing in his belongings until he’d effectively moved out of the dormitories and into a shared nest with you. Most of his clothes were there by now, along with his endless piles of library books and his cherished personal collection of sporting novellas from Tomes and Scrolls.

You assume he’ll probably want to strip off his mucked-up robes and find something clean to change into so he can escort you downstairs for lunch. But despite the exhausting morning he must have already had, you don’t feel quite enough pity for your Sebastian to take it easy on him when he finally arrives.

Besides, you’re hoping to convince him (or perhaps seduce him) to let you test one of your newfound skills.

When he enters the room, he finds you lounging on the bed reading one of his beloved novels – wearing nothing but one of his Quidditch jerseys.

“Sebastian!” you call out happily as you look up.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he answers as he pushes the heavy door closed.

“You’re finally free,” you joke, closing your book. “I thought I’d have to come down to the pitch soon and challenge Imelda to a duel to get her to set you loose.”

“I won’t mind seeing that,” he laughs. “That would have been quite chivalrous of you.”

He shrugs out of his Quidditch robes and pulls his soaking-wet shirt up over his head. You watch longingly as his core flexes – all those hours on a broom have made him exceptionally well-defined, and you wish you could simply get on your knees right then and there to spend your morning tracing your tongue over every delineated band of muscle.

“You know,” he teases, pulling you from your reverie. “I had planned to just put on a clean shirt to go down to lunch, but it seems you’ve nicked my spare.”

“Did I?” you say, feigning innocence. “I just grabbed the first thing I could find, I swear.”

Sebastian glances at you skeptically before sitting down at what has become “his” desk to take off his boots. You frown when you catch him wincing while he bends at the waist.

“Are you hurt?” you ask him softly.

“No,” he insists. “Just sore all over.”

“Bash,” you croon. “Poor babe.”

“Come off it, I’m fine,” he laughs. “I just need some food and a nice long bath and I’ll be grand.”

You climb off the bed and saunter over to him in his chair, appreciating the way his eyes skim across the hem of his pilfered jersey. With every step, your hips sway and tease him with quick glimpses of the tops of your bare legs.

“Are you sure?” you ask sweetly. “Because if you’re feeling poorly, I can take care of you.”

Not even the promise of dry clothes and a warm meal could pull Sebastian’s attention from such a tempting offer – especially not while you’re wearing his clothes.

He sits back in his chair while you kneel in front of him to carefully unlace his Quidditch boots. After you take off his pads as well, it’s just too easy to climb onto his lap and wind your arms around his shoulders.

Sebastian’s gaze dips down to the space between your legs. He lays one palm flat against your thigh and uses his thumb to ruck up the hem of the jersey just a bit.

“You haven’t got anything on under this, do you?” he asks knowingly.

“Not a stitch,” you breathe.

Sebastian groans quietly and wraps an arm around your waist to hold you tightly against him.

“Leave it on,” he says in a low voice. “I want to see you in my jersey the entire time I’m taking you apart.”

“Not so fast, Sallow,” you counter. “Let me give you a massage first, it will help with the soreness.”

“A ‘massage?’” he asks hopefully.

When you merely raise an eyebrow at him, he looks simply crushed.

“You’re joking,” he says flatly. “You… you actually mean to ‘take care’ of me? In an actual ‘nurse-me-back-to-health’ sort of way? Nothing lewd?”

“I mean both the regular way and the devious way,” you laugh. “But if you’re aching right now, it’s not going to be much fun for you.”

“You are sincerely wrong about that,” he argues, but you’re undeterred.

“Let me do this first,” you bargain. “I promise you’ll feel better afterward.”

There’s a bit more whining and attempts to seduce you as you wriggle free of Sebastian’s lap and tug on his arm so he’ll walk over to the bed. He strips down to the garment layer he wears beneath his uniform pants and kindly allows you to shove him onto the bed.

He’s peering up at you expectantly, obviously hoping you’ll cave and climb onto his lap once again.

“Turn over, Sebastian,” you say with a fond eye roll. “On your stomach.”

“You’re evil,” he gripes. “A wicked, malicious sorceress.”

Sebastian reluctantly turns over onto his stomach so that you can sit astride his hips. As soon as you rest your weight on top of him, he exhales tiredly as if he’s just set down a towering stack of books at the librarian’s desk – like he’s let go of a weight he hadn’t realized had slowly become so burdensome in his arms.

“Relax,” you murmur. “I’ve got you.”

Then he tilts his head to rest on his folded hands. You know he can’t quite see you at this angle, but you still catch just a glimpse of his warm brown eyes before they flutter shut.

Go on, he says without words. Touch me. I trust you.

You think you could just stay here all day with your hands on his slightly chilled skin. Warming him up to your touch, you skim your hands across his firm shoulder blades, along the tops of his sun-kissed shoulders, and then down the solid expanse of aching muscle in his back. He’s so broad beneath you, you think, even on his stomach. Without his height to add to the imposing figure he usually cuts, he nevertheless looks perfectly capable of rolling you off of him should he desire.

Knowing that there’s very little he could desire less sends an excited shiver through you. It’s a privilege, getting to be gentle with a man like Sebastian.

After all, except for when his hands are on your body, Sebastian is anything but gentle. He’s headstrong, impulsive, and obstinately ungovernable when he knows he’s in the right. Physically, he’s grown into a body that matches.

You shouldn’t be surprised that despite playing as a Seeker, Sebastian is not the kind of athlete who relies on being lithe and quick on his broom. Whenever he finds himself in a dead heat for the Snitch, he routinely throws his whole body into a maneuver and hurdles himself into his opposing Seeker to knock them off their path.

He’s brutish on the pitch and offers no apologies for it, though he will extend a gentlemanly hand whenever he bests the other Seeker to their prize.

Worst of all is that he has no fear of mutually assured destruction. He wants to win, sure; but more importantly, he wants the other team to lose. If that means both he and his opponent must crash into the ground in a pile of torn sports robes and grass stains before being hauled up to the Hospital Wing by an exasperated Nurse Blainey, so be it.

(Needless to say, you aren’t the only one who calls him “Bash” anymore.)

You consider all this while you quietly work through some of the larger knots that have built up in the muscles of his back. His body has kept hold of a momentous amount of trauma over the years, and if you can help dissolve even a fraction of it with your hands, you’ll be overjoyed.

Carefully you splay the palms of your hands against his bare skin and concentrate hard on spreading warmth and relaxation through the striations of Sebastian’s muscles. Just as you’d practiced with Nurse Blainey, you visualize your magic wrapping through the infinitely small tears and bruises he’s endured to diffuse a relief that emanates a warm, purplish glow you can genuinely see.

(You’d managed to close a simple paper cut earlier that week, but Sebastian’s body has taken a more significant beating.)

“What’s happening?” Sebastian asks, his voice slurring.

“How do you feel?” you whisper.

“Incredible,” he breathes. “Are you…? Is this magic that you’re doing? Your ancient magic?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” you admit softly. “Healing magic, ancient magic… It’s a bit of both.”

“How did you–?” Sebastian asks before trailing off in a lazy, satisfied moan. “Merlin, it feels good.”

“Anne’s been showing me some of the healing magic she’s studying with Nurse Blainey, so I’ve joined her,” you say softly. “It’s actually quite interesting, Anne is very talented with–”

“No more talking about Anne for a little while, love,” Sebastian grits out. “Just – just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. Please.”

You giggle softly while you slide your hands down further to the base of his spine, where you know for a fact he carries an unjust amount of tension. It’s precisely there that he stores his worries about upcoming N.E.W.T. exams, his all-important role on the Quidditch team, and the pressure he puts on himself to succeed so he can take care of Anne once you all graduate – you too, now, even though you insist you’ll be equals in every way possible.

“Feeling a bit better?” you ask him hopefully.

“Can’t remember the last time I felt this good,” he mumbles. “You should be a Healer.”

“Maybe someday,” you demur. “For now, I rather like the idea of only doing this for you.”

Sebastian’s soft groan sounds like one of assent.

You channel magic through him for a few more moments until you notice that he finally feels less inflamed beneath your fingertips. Then you let the glow fade away until it’s just you and Sebastian, no more magic thrumming between where your bodies touch.

He’s quiet for several long moments and you wonder whether you might have simply magicked him to sleep.

“Bash?” you whisper. “Are you alright?”

All of a sudden, he’s remarkably alive beneath you. He tilts one hip to tip you off of his back and onto the bed beside him, earning an annoyed huff out of you when you land on your rear. But before you can put the words together to protest, he’s parting your legs with his hands so he can settle between them and rucking up the jersey until he can see your bare core.

“You’re incredible,” he tells you earnestly. “I feel better than I have in months, love.”

“Th-that’s good,” you stutter, a bit bewildered.

He continues, “And I’m going to return the favor right this minute.”

You barely have time to blink before he’s kissing you breathless and rocking his hips against yours. You gasp sharply into his mouth and he swallows the sound, pressing his tongue against yours in that filthy way that he knows gets you soaking wet for him every single time he does it.

“Bash,” you whine. “Slow down a little.”

“Not a chance,” he says against your neck. “I want you, you made me need you.”

…Merlin, did you?

You try to focus while Sebastian stretches out the collar of his own jersey to suck claiming bruises along your collarbone. Did you overdo it on the healing spell? Possibly imbue him with a little too much “love?”

But then he confesses, “You’re irresistible in my clothes like this, d’you know that?”

You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize that that’s what’s got him so worked up. It’s you in his colors, his rumpled clothing with his damn name emblazoned on your back.

That quickly gives you an idea.

“Let me turn over,” you grunt as you try to squirm out from underneath him. “Sebastian, please.”

He looks thoroughly displeased when you sit up, so you placate him with one more filthy kiss before he won’t have access to your mouth for a while. Then you settle on your elbows and knees, jersey shoved up to the middle of your waist.

Sebastian says some foul words under his breath when he sees you present yourself for him. You wish he’d just bury himself in you, patience and preparation be damned. Together the two of you have discovered that there’s a time and a place for slow, intimate lovemaking just as much as there is for desperate, urgent, feral fucking.

You know which one Sebastian is craving.

“Take me like this, Bash,” you say breathlessly. “So you can see whose name I carry.”

He leans over you and drags his hand across the “SALLOW” stitched in thick, white letters across the broadest part of the jersey’s shoulders. Then he lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl as he grinds his hips against yours.

“I need to be inside you,” he grunts. Behind you, you can hear him shoving his base layer down his thighs before he drags two fingertips along your slit and uses your wetness to stroke his cock. “I can’t be patient.”

“Don’t be,” you insist. You sway your hips invitingly and arch your back. “I’m ready.”

“You need my fingers,” he tells you. “I’ll give you enough, I won’t hurt you.”

You stun him by reaching a hand back and showing him how you can press two fingers against your entrance that easily sink inside. You moan softly at how different the angle is from how you usually touch yourself, but it works to get the point across to Sebastian.

“I’m ready,” you repeat. “I was waiting for you.”

Sebastian traces a thumb along your slit beside your fingers, pulling you open a bit to let himself look his fill as you spread your wetness around wantonly.

“Is this what you were doing while I was at practice?” he asks. “Laying in this bed in my clothes, playing with your pussy, and thinking of what I’d do to you when I got back?”

Now that’s a word he most certainly picked up from those Muggle books he likes to read, but it makes you squirm desperately nonetheless.

“Yes,” you whimper. “B-but I waited for you to finish.”

“That’s a shame,” he murmurs. “I suppose I’ll have to make sure you’re properly seen to, since you’ve been waiting so long.”

He presses his thumb against your entrance with your two fingers and when you can easily take it inside as well, he decides you’re indeed plenty ready for his cock instead. His gentle hand on your wrist coaxes you into pulling out, and then he lines himself up and starts to press inside.

You whimper his name as you collapse onto your elbows. He feels impossibly big like this, and despite your insistence that you were ready for him, it’s a toe-curling kind of stretch that has you panting and trembling beneath him while your body alternates between its animal instincts to rear back or submit.

“Good, you take me so well, love,” he groans. “How do you feel?”

In answer, you loudly groan into the pillow you’ve bunched up beneath you.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself,” he says smugly. “Hold on tight for me, alright?”

After a few easy thrusts to ensure you’re properly braced for the full weight of him, Sebastian starts to relentlessly pound you down into the mattress. He supports you with his forearm wrapped beneath your hips and one broad hand pressing into your back – right below where his name is inscribed.

You’re fiercely loud in bed with him, but even when you’re whining and nearly sobbing for him, you can’t drown out the sound of his foul mouth.

“Take this cock,” he grunts. “Take it all, it’s what you wanted, right? For me to fill you up?”

“Yes!” you wail, knowing he expects an answer.

“That’s right,” he growls. “You want it all, I’ll give it all to you, always.”

He leans over your back and grinds in deep and you feel a twinge that isn’t entirely pleasure, but you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop – it’s too good, especially when it’s straddling the line of being too much.

“I’m gonna give you everything,” he confesses into your ear. “My seed, my name on your back, I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Give it to me,” you slur. “Go on, Bash.”

“I will love, I will,” he grunts. “But I’m finishing you first.”

He keeps murmuring filth into your ear while he works a hand underneath you to rub quick, firm circles against your clit the way he knows you like. He talks about how sweet you are for him, how you’re the best thing he has, how he wants to keep you right here for as long as you’ll let him, but whether he means in this bed or in his arms you can’t possibly know.

He deftly works you to a breathtaking climax – quite literally you lose your breath, and he just keeps drawing it out with his eager fingers and his cock buried deep in you for so long that you wonder when it will ever stop. When it finally relents, you rest your cheek against the pillow and lie boneless, content to let Sebastian hold your hips up so he can work himself toward his finish.

“Want you to keep it all inside,” he says mindlessly. “Keep it in, keep my jersey on too, fuck–”

When he spills in you, he grinds his sensitive cock against your hips for as long as he can take it to make sure you stay full of his spend. Then when he pulls out, he tucks that damn jersey back down over your ass as if to make the claim, Our work here is done.

You lay exhausted on your stomach while Sebastian cozies up behind you. Within minutes of catching your breaths his stomach growls, so you know you won’t be there for much longer, but neither of you seems to be in any hurry to untangle yourself from the other.

Eventually, you have to ask him, “...So, ‘my name on your back,’ hmm?”

You expect him to blush and stammer, or start talking about how maybe, someday, when he feels like he’s satisfied some sort of ridiculous goal that will make him feel like he deserves it, that could be a reality.

Instead, he kisses behind the hinge of your jaw and murmurs, “I meant it. Whenever you want it, it’s yours. Just say the word.”

“Fine, but if I get the name, I get to keep the jersey,” you sigh.

He buries his nose in your hair and happily mumbles, “I think we’ll have to negotiate that one.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x you #sebastian x mc #quidditch!seb #quidditch fic #break a sweat #HELLO HAVE A NEW CHAPTER A DAY LATE MY FRIENDS

[sassykattery]

Rites and Rituals, Pt. 8

Welcome to the Chapter and Season 2 Finale. I have an announcement at the end of the post, so please make sure to read it.

CW: MC is afab, uses she/her pronouns. MC is a demon and poly. Major fighting scene here, with other characters attacking the MC/reader. No blood mentioned, but highly violent.

Themes: Action. Experiments. Lore. Demon forms. LuciferxMC. DiavoloxMC.

Characters: MC="you", Diavolo, Lucifer, Barbatos, Satan, Mammon.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

As always, I hope you enjoy~

Masterlist

Barbatos, sensing Lucifer's hesitance, dove in first. He managed to grab you from behind, putting your human skull into a headlock and dragging one arm behind your back, while Diavolo took a step back to recompose.

While Lucifer and Diavolo were avian and draconic in nature, respectively, Barbatos was reptilian. He stood at twelve and a half foot tall, and his body was covered by glowing teal scales that rippled as he moved, his forked tail now a florescent green. His feet were reminiscent of yours, rather prehistoric looking. His arms were nimble but still similar to a lizard in appearance. His head was that of a monitor lizard, glowing turquoise and emerald orbs for eyes with the most narrow slits for pupils. His body was more rectangular and boxy, akin to the animal he so represented with his head, but still highly muscular.

Lucifer retained a more elegant and refined image, all black, covered in feathers much like yourself. His head was that of a peacock's skull, no surprise there, but the rest of his body was sleek, still similar to that of a human man, but far more muscular and retaining his narrow waist. His eyes lost their crimson hue in this form, completely blacking out instead. He was as tall as you and Diavolo. His feet resembled that of human world raptors, and his hands became much like your own, decorated with talons that curled in, ready to strike. The way he moved was languid and graceful, lacking the staccato and robotic movement of most avian creatures.

When you felt Barbatos at your back, you swiftly reached behind in a flying headlock and tossed him at Diavolo. Lucifer saw his opening and took out your legs, knocking you down to your knees so he could take both of your arms behind your back. You dropped forward and rolled, and actually continued rolling as both of you swung at each other to gain the upper hand.

"My lord, we have to put her in a sleeping hold," Barbatos spoke to Diavolo in creatiotonic Creatiotonic was the language formulated by elder demons, back when they were exclusively in their ultimate state in the early days of the Devildom. It's an innately known language by any demon, including yourself.

"Very well," Diavolo replied.

Just as you straddled Lucifer to reel your clawed fist back, Barbatos rushed by and attempted to put you in a reverse headlock, and Lucifer held your hips in place. With core strength, you took a deep breath and grabbed Barbatos' arms and launched him forward. He landed in a slide on his feet. Lucifer used the distraction to send you onto your back, putting you in a full pin, using his entire body weight to keep you in place.

Darling, you have to stop, he tried to tell you telepathically. All he received in reply was an ear-piercing shriek. With all your strength, you rammed your skull into Lucifer's, causing him to falter. You took the opportunity to shove him off and put him into a cross bar toe hold.

Pro-wrestling is banned from here on out at home, Lucifer thought to himself.

-

Meanwhile, Satan and Mammon were fruitless in the office, so they eventually discovered the lab Canary must have worked out of, and after some searching, they rifled through everything, finding documentation on the psychotic she used on you.

"Fuck! Canary wasn't even trying to look for cures, she really did just want to poison MC into making a pact with her. She was never going to fix what she did," Satan swore. "Her plan was to basically make MC her mindless animal, siphoning magic off of her."

"What can we do?" Mammon asked, stressed.

Satan threw the notebook in a fit of rage, sinking down to his feet. "I don't know what we can do," he sobbed in pure dismay.

Mammon looked around. "We can't give up on her. She needs us," he stated.

"I know! I know..." Satan cried out, frustrated. He racked his brain for ideas.

At the same time, both brothers looked at each other. "Somnum!"

They scrambled to look around, and to their luck, they found large quantities of the green powder stored away under a lab hood.

---

"Diavolo! This isn't working! Come on!" Lucifer called out as you held Barbatos in a Japanese arm bar hold, while holding the throat of Lucifer with the other arm. The three were impressed with how well you held up, but it was wearing them down, while you seemed relentless.

In favor of your assailant, you threw Lucifer aside and snatched Diavolo's ankle, sweeping him out from under himself. But while you were distracted, Barbatos found the strength to roll you both over and sliding into leg lock, holding you in place.

"Anytime now!" The butler shouted.

Lucifer came around and got his feathered arm locked around your neck, pulling you up to your feet. You clawed at him viciously while Barbatos caught his breath. They had been fighting with you for far too long, and now Diavolo and Barbatos were losing patience.

Lucifer.

The Avatar of Pride stiffened. It was your voice; it was your essence in his mind.

Darling, please, he called back to you.

I can't stop, please make me stop, you pleaded. You know what I'm asking. It's okay. You can do it. Please. I can't stop myself.

"Lucifer! Do it already!" Diavolo choked out, approaching you angrily.

Lucifer struggled. You were asking him to do the unthinkable, and his fears were starting to take root in his confidence.

I won't do that. We'll fix this, he thought.

You shrieked and began to thrash about, losing your sense of real consciousness again.

"Fucking– let me," Diavolo shouted, grabbing hold of your shoulders, yanking you from Lucifer's grasp, but in the transition, you slithered out and ducked under the arms that reached for you.

"Guys! Get out of the way!" Mammon shouted, holding a glass jar.

Your gazes landed on the second born, and he instantly gulped at your appearance. When you took a step forward, Barbatos kicked you down to your hands and knees, and further stepping into your back to force you down. He brought your arms up behind your body, finally holding you in place. Diavolo dove down to hold up your legs, so you couldn't wriggle your way out this time.

"If you're going to, I suggest now is the time," Babatos growled as you continued to wail and thrash beneath him.

Mammon quickly approached and opened the rather large jar of somnum, nearly the size of his torso, and then without much grace or decorum, he tossed the powder onto your human skull face. Carefully and swiftly, he closed it and staggered back. Satan waited with more in his hand, unsure of how much it would take to subdue you.

After several more moments of struggle, your movements became sloppy and languid. Within a minute, you laid out flat on the floor, still and silent.

"Oh gods, we did it," Satan gasped.

Lucifer dropped to his knees beside you, watching your motionless frame. Barbatos stepped off of you, walking over to his master.

"My lord, are you hurt?" Barbatos asked.

"No, no I'm fine," Diavolo said breathlessly, staring at you, unsure if you were really unconscious or not.

The eldest decidedly pulled you into his arms, looking you over. In a flash, your form dissolved, and Lucifer was left holding your regular body. There was a sigh of relief from everyone.

"At least when she looks like that, it's a bit more bearable," Mammon tried to joke. No one laughed.

Barbatos, Diavolo, and Lucifer all reverted back to their regular forms too, beaten and bruised.

"Let's go," Satan said quietly, gathering up their things.

---

Lucifer's POV

I walked down to MC's room for the fifth time since arriving home. She was still where I left her in her bed, but I'm constantly tormented by thoughts of her disappearing again, and I couldn't help but have to check on her, just to calm myself.

When I looked down at her, she looked the same, but there was a part of me who didn't see her the same way anymore. Deep down, I knew there was a terrifying creature beneath the many, many layers of her mind, but I never imagined in all my years something as truly fear-inducing as that.

I've sworn my brothers to secrecy, and to never speak of what happened to anyone. Not to each other, MC, the royals. It was to remain between us. I informed Levi, Asmo, Beel, and Belphie of what happened, sparing them the gory details about MC, but I could see it changed how they viewed her too. You're too powerful, MC, and I'm sorry this happened to you.

As I looked down at MC, I couldn't help but be brought back to what she said in her final moments. Did she really think I had it in me to stop her? That I could end it all if we couldn't bring her back? She thinks far too highly of me, then. I'd let all three realms crumble under the weight of her foot before I'd lay a hand on her in such a way.

Seeing her still comfortable, I left to go back to my office, knowing I'd just return in a few hours to check on her again.

---

Barbatos' POV

My young master hadn't left his office since we arrived at the palace. We ensured MC's safety at the House of Lamentation, though it seemed Lucifer was eager for us to leave. It was, without a doubt, that he saw how brutish Diavolo and I became after too long of fighting with MC. It couldn't be helped, and the sooner it all came to a halt, the better.

Though I've tried to reconcile what I saw at Mount Blanc, it's hard to imagine MC any other way. Though undoubtedly arousing she could be, she was also now fearsome, truly an opponent to the three realms with that much strength to take on Lord Diavolo, myself, and the Avatar of Pride. Could such a reality tolerate a presence? Could our timeline withstand the power MC has if this is the truth? These things can only be answered when my lord gives me permission to seek out the truth.

Tried as I might, tea was far from what I wanted to be making. I wanted to check on MC and my master, however, it was clear he wished to be alone, and she wasn't going to awaken soon. I could only hope that neither of the two were too sore.

I was informed that MC was fighting off the effects of the neurotoxins by Satan, but it was unclear as to what effects it would have, temporarily or permanently. Solomon told me there was nothing he could do except create antipsychotics should MC need them. My only hope was that we'll all be together again, soon, for my master's sake as well as my own. I missed MC terribly, and my hope was to see her in the castle again soon.

---

Diavolo's POV

If I were asked what happened at Mount Blanc, I'd be inclined to say nothing. In reality, I would simply smile, say warm wishes about MC and how we're happy to have her home, and continue on.

My bride. My soulmate. Riddled to nothing but a mindless beast. Is that how humans saw us?

As I paced my office more, I couldn't help but relive the disaster in Italy again and again in my mind. When would it be that MC would be safe from harm? When will we finally know an era of peace? Is it my fault that she's this way? Did my selfishness bring us this monster that could possibly be a threat to the three realms?

It seemed as though my reputation was not what I thought it was, and it appeared I needed to remind the people what it was I stand for and what it was I would not tolerate. Some changes would need to be made around here, starting with the witches. I cannot allow them to think such behavior is tolerable, and I will have to make sure anyone else who contributed to this disaster sees a just end.

I asked Barbatos to look into MC's future, and to our confusion, it stopped, and all he could see was her sleeping. We've looked high and low in everyone's futures for any sign of her, and it's like she disappeared. We didn't understand what it meant, but all I could hope for at this point was for her to wake up soon. It had been six days since the incident in Italy, and every time I visited her, she was in the same spot as before, never changing. I truly just want to hold her in my arms again, to tell her how much I love her.

Even if that monster is what lurks within the depths of her mind, she's proven many times over that she can handle things, and I could trust that she'll learn how to control that as well, with time.

----

Lucifer's POV

I walked into her room at the House for the eighth time that day, just before going to bed. I stood at her bedside, looking down at her sleeping face.

Unfortunately, Mammon had given her so much somnum, she had been asleep for eleven days at that point. The first three were the hardest as her body fought off the toxins, her temperature reaching well above what was normal for a demon. MC never moved, never stirred, and never made a single noise. It made everyone nervous, especially me. Now, it was merely a waiting game for her to awaken, and we were unsure of what she would be like when that happened.

"My sleeping beauty," I murmured, caressing her cheek.

All at once, MC's eyes fluttered open.

A gasp got caught in my throat, and I immediately started sputtering as I choked on my own spit.

"MC!" I rasped, kneeling down beside her bed. "Oh heavens, darling, you're awake. How do you feel? Are you hurting anywhere?"

MC blankly stared at me, clutching the sheets as she tried to scoot away from me.

"Who are you?" She asked.

---

Thanks for reading! <3

I hope you enjoyed this season, as well as this chapter! This concludes Season 2.

As for my announcement, I will be taking a break from posting "Love, Eternal." The next season, Season 3, will be the final one of this series, and it is high time I start finishing up the ending! There will also be an epilogue to this that I also need to write and finish. I also just really need a break!

That said, I am aiming to start publishing Season 3 starting April 5th. It may end up being later, depending on life stuff, but that is my goal to start again.

I don't mean to sound uncertain and cause anxiety and make it seem like the series will just stop. I assure you, we will pick it up again. My goal is to always deliver a satisfying story, so I need time to make sure that happens.

As always, I thank you all for reading my story. I hope to see you all back when we return. You all, my darling sinners, mean the world to me, and I'm happy to continue providing entertainment for you.

-The Royal SK 😈👑

---

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @itsmeninerz @flemmingbamse @themythicaldisaster @dajitm @bontensbabygirl @obeymediasimp @frozengoldie

#obey me #obey me shall we date #sassywrites #sassystories #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #lucifer x female reader #diavolo x female reader #obey me Barbatos #love-eternal

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I See Queen Mab Hath Been With You

Eddie Munson x OC, Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader, Fluff, Shakespeare, Pining

Lucy Henderson Character Bio, Lucy's Tag in General

Summary: Eddie proves he paid more attention in English than he lets on. OR, how Lucy discovered Eddie reciting Shakespeare is really hot.

Warning: This contains the entirety of the Queen Mab speech from Romeo and Juliet

Based on anon request: I’m feeling ridiculously soft for Eddie and Lucy rn. Any drabbles or one shots about a soft moment during the craziness or before the craziness of season 4?

A/N: I literally came up with this yesterday. I couldn't help it, the theater nerd is strong with me.

Word Count: 1.8K

    “Bullshit.”

    “Scouts honor.”

    “You were never in the scouts.”

    “Well what else am I supposed to swear on?”

    Lucy rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. She had been doing it all night and was starting to get good at it. 

    It was late. Their movie had ended and Lucy had dared to take Eddie up on his suggestion to just walk for a while. It wasn’t an unusual request. They did it all the time, but spending so much time alone with him was proving treacherous.

    Her little crush hadn’t faded since the end of the semester and they were almost to July. It felt like it was getting worse. 

    She thought some distance would do her some good, but Eddie had called her out of the blue and she couldn’t think of a good excuse not to. They were still friends. She couldn’t avoid him forever. A movie seemed innocent enough; dark, limited talking, safe. She had even managed to pay attention to what was on screen for most of it. Even still, his occasional commentary in her ear drove her to distraction. She honestly couldn’t remember anything of what they had just seen by the time they walked out. 

    If she had any sense she would have made up some excuse about work in the morning, but then he smiled and she knew she’d do just about anything he asked. 

    He kept the conversation going for the first stretch and eventually Lucy was able to relax enough to answer back. Nothing had changed. Eddie was still Eddie. She just had to remind herself of that and not get herself into a tizzy over a laugh or a look. 

    They had even managed to move past the subject of the movie to, of all things, Shakespeare. Somewhere in their rambles Lucy grumbled about wishing she could rent an apartment for three months to do summer stock in a big city or even just Shakespeare in the park. This prompted Eddie to make a rather bold claim pertaining to Mercutio and Queen Mab.   

    “Why would you even try to memorize the Queen Mab speech?” Lucy protested. 

    He shrugged. “It’s cool. I mean the rest of the play is gooey, lovey dovey shlock, but all the Mercutio stuff is awesome. Besides, I needed the extra credit.”

    “So you just up and performed in front of the entire class for a couple extra points?”

    He scoffed. “Please, if I did that my reputation would never recover. Mr. Kennedy just let me do it at lunch.” 

    Lucy’s lips pressed into a line. Mr. Kennedy was known for being one of the more reasonable teachers at Hawkins. She could see him offering to let Eddie perform privately if he felt like Eddie was otherwise putting in the effort. Still, she couldn’t help feeling like he was pulling her leg.

    Eddie caught her skeptical expression. “You don’t believe me.” 

    “I just don’t see it,” she admitted. 

    He nodded, his brows creasing in deep thought. It only took him a moment to come to a decision. “Okay.” 

    He took two long strides ahead before jumping up on a bench in front of an empty store front. He cleared his throat, placing a hand over his heart. 

    “I, Edward Munson, shall perform Shakespeare’s Queen Mab for the judgment and viewing pleasure of this illustrious audience,” he announced in the most obnoxious British accent he could muster as he gestured to the non-existent crowd. 

    Lucy let out a laugh, which only encouraged him.

    “Now I shall require some audience participation,” he said, peering down at her with a scrupulous eye, “assuming the audience has the play memorized as well.”

    “We do,” she assured. 

    “Excellent,” he grinned, dropping the accent while he was at it. “Now, let me see, how does it start?" He tapped his chin. "Romeo says, 'I dreampt a dream tonight'. Mercutio, 'And so did I'."

    Lucy smiled. "Well, what was yours?"

    Eddie grinned and something else seemed to shift inside him, like the turning of a dial. She'd seen it a handful of times when a campaign took on a particularly dramatic turn. A sudden tremble of anticipation shot through her.

    "That dreamers often lie," he answered.

    "In bed asleep while they do dream things true," she replied.

    "O," he crouched down, meeting her straight in the eye, "then I see Queen Mab hath been with you."

    He leaned in, his eyes glimmering with an unbalanced glee. “She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes, in shape no bigger than an agate-stone,” he raised his finger waving it in front of her eyes, “on the fore-finger of an alderman, drawn with a team of little atomies, athwart men's noses as they lie asleep.”

    Ever so slowly he began to rise, his hands and arms animating every line.

    “Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, the cover of the wings of grasshoppers, the traces of the smallest spider's web, the collars of the moonshine's watery beams, her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, not so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love.”

    He drawled out the final word mockingly as he once again turned his attention toward her, sinking down to her level. 

     “O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,” he continued, pointing to her knees. “O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,” he took her hand, pinching the ends of her fingers.  “O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,” he brushed her lips, or, at least, came close enough the air of his movements tickled her skin. 

    Lucy could feel her cheeks heat at the gesture. She thought he might stop to comment, but he didn’t break his stride as his expression kept up that half crazed smile.  

    “Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.” He straightened up, waving his hand in front of his nose as if offended by the smell.

    “Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,” he went on, now using his own body as demonstration. “And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; and sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, then dreams, he of another benefice: sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, and then dreams he of cutting foreign throats.”

    He clutched his neck and Lucy felt something else change. Still in character, but the glee was gone, replaced with a menace that made her spine straighten. 

    “Of breaches,” he continued, “ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear,” he slammed his hand behind him making the glass of the storefront vibrate, “at which he starts and wakes, and being thus frighted swears a prayer or two and sleeps again.” 

    His eyes widened, his body like a live wire as if about the fall of the edge. 

    “This is that very Mab, that plats the manes of horses in the night, and bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, which once untangled, much misfortune bodes,” he shouted. “This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, making them women of good carriage: This is she—” 

    "Peace, peace,” Lucy interjected, grabbing his hand. She didn’t know how she remembered the line, but was grateful she did. It would all feel a waste if she didn’t. “Mercutio, peace. Thou talk'st of nothing."

    "True,” he admitted, as if suddenly allowed to breathe again. He jumped down from the bench, never letting go of her hand as he looked down into her eyes. “I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy, which is as thin of substance as the air, and more inconstant than the wind, who woos, even now the frozen bosom of the north, and, being angered, puffs away from thence, turning his side to the dew-dropping South."

    A silence fell then, not that Lucy notice for the thundering of her heart in her ears. She felt like her whole body was shaking. He really needed to stop looking at her like that. 

    Suddenly he looked away and up to the ceiling. 

    "I think it's Benvolio after that," he said, speculatively. 

    "Yeah," Lucy said, breathlessly. "I think you're right."

    Eddie looked back down. Mercutio was gone and he was back to his usual teasing self. "Good?"

    "Good?" she repeated. "Eddie, that was…holy shit!”

    She covered her mouth with her hands in some vain attempt to hide her smile and surely obvious blush.  

    She could say a lot of things to say about his impromptu performance; amazing, transcendent, mind blowing, but the one she kept coming back to was hot.  It was very, very hot. She couldn’t for the life of her explain why, but it was just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen him do. 

    This was worse than when he ran lines with her for As You Like It.  New rule going forward, never let Eddie Munson perform Shakespeare. It was bad for her health.

    It didn’t help that he was grinning at her now with the most adorably proud expression. 

    “Think I earned that extra credit then?” he teased.

    “I think you deserve a full ride to Julliard.”

    He laughed. She couldn’t be sure, but she could have sworn his cheeks were slightly pink. 

    “Seriously, that was incredible,” she continued. “Why haven’t you auditioned before? You would be amazing.” 

    He waved her off. “Oh c’mon Henderson, you know the rules. Seniors take priority. If I join now they’d have to commit to a one man show. Wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you.” 

    “You should still give it a shot,” she insisted. “I think you’d fit right in.” 

“Yeah?”

    Lucy felt her stomach flip. The look in those beautiful brown eyes was so soft it made her melt. This was why she had been avoiding him. All it took was one innocent look and she was a goner. How did people handle this? 

    “Yeah,” she said, glancing away. “I mean, unless you’re still worried about your reputation.” 

    He snorted, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he pushed them both forward. 

    “How about this, after you’ve made your spectacular Broadway debut and if I’m not busy performing at The Garden, drop me a line. I’d be happy to do a reading.” 

    She nodded along.  “You’ll be my first call.” 

    They continued on like that for a little while, speaking of dreams as if they would someday be reality.  Lucy hoped they would and that maybe, someday, she’d be able to tell Eddie exactly how he fit into hers.

#stranger things #stranger things oc #eddie munson #lucy henderson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x henderson!oc #eddie munson x henderson!reader #2022 fic

[healersadjust]

8. shielding the other one with their body 💜

yeah ok so. this was gonna end a lot worse but! i'm not feeling too great, so i rewrote the ending. you all are saved this time! but there IS an alternate ending...

Anyway! Thank you so much for the ask <3 I hope you enjoy! Endwalker spoilers ahead. Unedited and it probably shows.

With the Scions disbanded, Aki and G’raha resolved to go on as many adventures when they could find the time. Things went smoothly, for the most part. Until then, the worst thing that had happened was when they ended up with morbol juice all over them. Neither had expected things to go so catastrophically. 

“Aki- your left!” G’raha shouted, warning Aki of the absolutely giant robotic monstrosity preparing to hit her. She dodged out of the way, climbing up the robot's arm to its head, busying herself with taking it out from the top. Their magics did nothing against them, putting both Aki and G’raha out of their element.

They could have managed one. They could have likely taken two, but they were alone against an army.

They had taken out most of them, their energy slowly draining after each one hit the ground. THey discovered pretty quickly how to shut them down- Aki kept a knife handy that she could stab and pry into the backs of their necks, which exposed some fancy wiring that she was all too happy to slash to bits. G’raha’s role was to distract them while she jumped from robot to robot.

It was long, it was grueling… But eventually, they all were on the ground, motionless.

“Well… Not what I expected out of a quick trip,” G’raha said with an exhausted chuckle. “Where do you think they came from?”

“Hell, probably,” she mumbled. “And I don’t wanna stick around to find out for certain. I don’t have enough energy to teleport us out… I’ll see if Orion is anywhere nearby.”

She pulled a whistle out from her back pocket. She dusted it off and blew into it, letting out a high pitched screeching sound. Thankfully, for whatever reason, Orion was always within earshot. She heard the sound of a speeding chocobo in the distance. She sighed, leaning against G’raha while they waited. He brought an arm around her, rubbing her side.

“Perhaps we'll settle for a date next time?” He asked, planting a kiss on her head.

“Yeah- I think I’m good with that. The Last Stand, perhaps? Close to home?”

“We can even take a look around the shops- You’re running low on paints, yes? And I could use…”

Aki’s attention was pulled behind them. It… It sounded like footsteps. But it certainly wasn’t Orion- her chocobo was in front of them, not behind. What else could it be..?

Then, she heard the charging of a mechanical canon.

She turned just in time, seeing one of the robots from before pointing its lazer arm at the two of them. It’s attention wasn’t on her- Twelve, there wouldn’t be enough time to warn G’raha-

She moved just in time to intercept the blast. G’raha didn’t have the chance to process it before his fiancee was on the ground.

“Is she- is she okay?”

“She will be, mostly thanks to your quick healing. From what it sounds like, she shouldn’t be breathing. But she is, and she's better than stable.”

“Oh, bless the twelve-” she heard a sigh of relief. “I was so worried- she-” a gasp. “Aki, can you hear me?”

She fought to open her eyes. The world was so much brighter than she last remembered- or maybe it was just that room. It was blurry at first, but slowly her vision sharpened enough to see a figure dressed in white beside a panicked G’raha.

G’raha wiped tears from his eyes, replacing his sour expression with a wide smile. The figure in white nodded at him before exiting the room. 

G’raha wasted no time to kneel next to her, taking her hand in his. “How do you feel?”

She closed her eyes. No pain anywhere, really- by some miracle, if she remembered things correctly. But, “Tired.” She opened her eyes once more, turning onto her side. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” He blinked once, twice. “You just took a laser to the chest and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

She nodded.

“I…” he smiled, shaking his head. “Yes, I’m well. You-” his gaze wandered. “You shouldn’t have done that. You can’t risk your life like that for me.”

She frowned. Was he really about to lecture her on that? No, not on her watch.

“You would have done the same. Don’t ‘do as I say, not as I do’ me.”

His eyes widened. “Well that- that isn’t the point!”

“We can talk about that later.” She rubbed his knuckles with her thumb as she looked at the bed… It was large enough to fit a roegadyn comfortably- More than enough for a couple of miqo'te. “I’ll scoot. Come lay with me.”

Who was he to deny her such a simple request?

#v time bb #endwalker spoilers #thank you for the ask! and im sorry it took so long for me to finish #i rewrote this so many times #not only the ending but everything #i think its time to put it away #honestly i think i could have done better with this prompt #but im emo rn so this is what we get! #and im still proud enough of it #sure i could do better but also #i'm allowed to have bad sentences sometimes #and im certain all the spots i dont like arent even noticable anyway #ALSO healing in xiv is such an interesting thing #like. mechanically #we can assume graha used a benediction or something on her #instead of what this was SUPPOSED to be #who knows how that plays out story wise but my house my bendy rules

[adultswim2021]

Metalocalypse #17: “Dethclown” | November 26, 2006 – 11:45PM | S01E17

Dr. Rockso, the rock and roll clown from a previous episode has befriended Toki and is an unwelcome guest at Mordhaus. This eventually changes at Toki’s behest. Toki simply adores Dr. Rockso. Unbeknownst to him, Rockso is tapped by the tribunal to help them spy on Dethklok. Dr. Rockso comes to Mordhaus as an official visitor and distracts Dethklok with a music video called “I’m Just a Rock and Roll Clown”. Rockso is eventually discovered by Dethklok’s manager after Rockso boldly attempts (and seemingly succeeds) to steal stuff out of the manager’s safe. He runs away and allowed to survive. The Mordhaus henchmen are instructed to watch where he goes. THE END. 

If I had to come up with a short list of episodes to occupy an Adult Swim hall-of-fame, this would probably make that list. This is one of my all-time favorites. It’s pretty simple, evidenced by the single paragraph it took to run down the plot. I didn’t even touch on the B-story where Murderface discovers the joys of free-balling, which doesn’t really add that much to the episode. Dr. Rockso is a truly hilarious, if not abrasive character. The hatred he gets from the rest of the band is absolutely warranted. His brand of comedy is pathetic and annoying, and only sold by his exuberant delivery. 

The only joke I can highlight in this one that is specific to this viewing is early on the rest of Dethklok are scolding Toki for hanging out with Dr. Rockso, and Nathan Explosion has the topper, yelling at him that “there’s no such thing as clowns!” I somehow did not remember this joke, despite being quite the devotee to this episode. 

The beauty of this episode is that it all builds towards the final act where Dr. Rockso puts on his music video. It’s an garish and obnoxious thing featuring Rockso belting out a love-letter to himself doing cocaine. This is the high point of the episode, and then the episode swiftly ends. You can’t ask for anything better from 11 minutes of television. The video features clown chicks, mountains of cocaine (which Rockso literally skis on), razor blade imagery, and not least of all Rockso’s singing voice which is completely different from his speaking voice and is hysterical. Fuck, this one is so funny. Cutting to the band glowering at this hideous video (except Toki, who naturally loves it) is so hilarious. Cutting back and forth between the video and Rockso sneaking around Mordhaus with his spy camera is great storytelling. 

The only problem I have with the episode (besides Murderface’s subplot which comes off as filler to me) is that I’ve seen it MANY times; I remember specifically showing it to people who have never seen Metalocalypse. I remember being at a party where it was decided to put on a few episodes and I specifically requested this one. This episode kills. It is their “I, Robot” or “Mayhem of the Mooninites”. And, at a time when Adult Swim was feeling like it was past it’s “classic era” prime and getting a little spotty, it was really affirming to see.

MAIL BAG

welcome back to the wild and wacky world my friend

I feel very welcomed. Thank you!

Remember when they'd re-run the older Space Ghosts with the commercial breaks in them and they'd just throw in that one Cartoon Network Space Ghost bumper? The one that was 60s action Space Ghost-themed that was just Space Ghost flying through space and blowing up a bad guy's ship or whatever and it turned into the Cartoon Network logo? That was badass. Hopefully they put that in the middle of Assy McGee. Talk about your Adult Swim Action!

Do I ever! Also, before Adult Swim was a thing I’d tune in for the Space Ghost rerun on regular Cartoon Network and they’d always run that bumper before the episode started. It is burned into my brain. And it was indeed badass.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #metalocalypse

[likeshipsonthesea]

mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it. 

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji. 

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it 

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal?  the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.” 

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

#the untamed #lan wangji #luo qingyang #jin zixuan #wangxian #wei wuxian #wen qing #fix it au #ramble fic #sort of fic #my writing #i don't know how to tag for a new fandom ugh #i genuinely considered not posting this #and trying to write a real fic for it #but i like how this turned out and i figure #i can always write the real fic later #hope this isn't too horribly ooc idk i'm still working on characterization #also i guess this is a mild au where mianmian is a lesbian but idc #we stan wlw mlm solidarity in this house #and lesbians choosing unattainable men to 'have crushes' on #basically we stan mianmian

[fandomlit]

neutral, chap. 6 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary technoblade leaves the next morning, turning tommy and y/n back to their usual business of bow work and baking. but tommy lets his usual curiosity get the best of him and questions y/n about the war, leading to a solemn result and revealing some terrible truths.

warnings mentions of war, death, and murder

previous | series masterlist | next

gif cred belongs to @herobrine​

tommy woke up late the next morning, which he presumed was understandable. he had stayed up late last night talking with y/n and technoblade, watching as they laughed and reminisced about the past, enlightening tommy with old tales and teases. he appreciated that they had made sure to include him in the conversation, but he couldn’t help but feel.. invasive. the two were obviously very close..

that thought was only further proven to him when he made his way to the kitchen in the morning. he was met with the smooth sound of y/n humming, and when he peeked into the room, he saw her smiling as she braided back technoblade’s long hair. tommy didn’t speak a word, fearing interrupting the seemingly intimate moment.

but y/n, without looking up, had noticed him. “good morning, tommy.”

he cleared his throat, stepping fully into the kitchen. techno, who had had his eyes closed in peace, opened one to glance at the kid. “morning.”

“there are some berry muffins left warming in the oven if you’d like,” she hummed, still working intently on braiding the hybrid’s pink hair. tommy immediately perked up at the mention of food.

“berry muffins, you say?”

y/n smiled. “i’ll teach you to make them, if you’d like.”

tommy picked the remaining couple muffins out of the warm oven as he considered her words. “sure.”

“how much have ya learned to cook, tommy?” techno asked him as he took a bite out of the delicious muffin. tommy shrugged.

“not too much,” he answered. “i can make steak, potatoes, pork chops, cookies, and pumpkin pie. enough to hold my own, i think.” y/n nodded.

“well, that’s another thing you’re learnin’ from the best,” techno sighed, offering y/n his hairband as she reached the end of his long hair. “y/n’s a great cook.”

y/n just shrugged. “well, kinda back to our topic last night, it’s a nomad thing i picked up. you travel around so much, you learn a lot of different recipes from a lot of interesting people.”

“do you miss it?” tommy spoke through a mouthful of muffin.

“don’t speak with your mouth full, tommy,” she scolded with a laugh, placing her hands on techno’s broad shoulders after tying his hair. “but..” she shrugged. “sometimes. i miss all that i got to learn and experience, but i know i’ll find my way back out there one day. for right now, im satisfied staying here and helping people out. especially people with long, pink hair who can’t manage a tight braid to save their life.”

techno looked over his shoulder at her as tommy let out a loud laugh. “i know you’re jokin’, but that one hurt.” she laughed, squeezing his shoulders before moving away to pour tommy a glass of milk.

as tommy began to scarf down another muffin, technoblade checked the small, golden clock he kept in his pocket. “i should get goin’. i told phil i’d be back by sunrise tomorrow.”

“alright,” y/n nodded as she placed the glass of milk in front of tommy. the boy thanked her as technoblade stood from his seat. “your axe should be cooled by now, let me go check.” he nodded as she scurried out of the room.

there was a moment of awkward silence before tommy gulped down some milk and spoke, “so, how’s phil?”

“good,” techno spoke plainly. another awkward silence filled the bright kitchen.

“.. does he ever talk about me?”

techno didn’t even flinch. “yeah. a lot.”

tommy glanced up at the hybrid. “really?”

techno nodded, considering what to say as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “listen kid.. i know you’ve made this place a sort of home for ya, and that you and y/n have formed a close bond..” techno sighed. “but there’s gonna be a day where things catch up and you’re gonna have to leave neutral. that government ya made isn’t gonna leave ya alone, exiled or not. so when things do go wrong..” tommy gave techno a cautious look, but the piglin just nodded at him. “come find phil and i. we’ll take care of ya.” tommy’s heart immediately warmed. “maybe not as well as y/n, but it’ll be something.”

tommy nodded with a somber smile. as kind as techno’s words were, the thought of leaving neutral honestly hadn’t occurred to him in a while.

“thanks, techno,” he nodded. “i appreciate it.”

“‘course, kid.”

“alright,” y/n sighed as she came back into the kitchen. “one lukewarm netherite sword, and a fixed up netherite chest plate. and..” techno took the fixed materials from her as she walked over to her fridge, pulling out a bag. “enough food to last your journey. and a little longer, ‘cause i know phil likes my pie.”

“he does,” technoblade nodded, taking the bag from her hands. “thanks for everything, y/n.”

“of course,” she shrugged. “it’s what im here for.” he nodded with a small smile, and she held her arms out to him. tommy was surprised to watch techno accept her embrace, giving her a tight hug before pulling away and offering him a wave.

“i’ll see ya around, kid,” techno nodded.

“it was good seeing you, techno,” tommy smiled. and the piglin left.

...

“deep breath, tommy,” y/n reassured. his usual target had been moved back a couple more paces, increasing his usual struggle with aiming the bow. but he still did as instructed, taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders in the slightest before releasing the arrow he had drawn. it lodged itself to the left of the bullseye. “great shot!”

tommy grinned as he looked over to her. “im getting better.”

“and that’s all we can ask for,” y/n agreed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “come on, kid, let’s take a break. you’ve earned it.”

as they walked back into the kitchen, tommy inquired, “so where’d you learn to make the berry muffins?”

she laughed, retrieving a pitcher of water from the fridge. “it’s actually a recipe that niki and i made together. just, uh..” she thought as she poured them some water. “just a little before the war, i believe.” she pursed her lips as she placed his glass in front of him. he felt the previously light atmosphere begin to sink into something darker. more serious. “i suppose you know of the war by now.”

tommy shrugged. “i..” he raised his glass to his lips. “i know very little.”

he didn’t dare look up at her as she sat across from him at the kitchen table. “can i ask what you know?”

he finally looked up, seeing her eyes were as kind and patient as usual. for some reason, talking with her about the war seemed invasive. it felt intrusive; like he had walked into some personal part of her that he wasn’t supposed to discover. but looking into her eyes, tommy realized that they couldn’t avoid this conversation. the war was a part of her.

“technoblade and ghostbur told me a bit,” he admitted, his finger swirling around the rim of his glass to distract himself as he talked. “just that.. i know it was between alivebur, dream, and techno implied that there were more involved? techno told me that dream put out a claim on you, and everyone resisted that, including you, and then wilbur entered it to try and win you over, and..” he shrugged. “it ended with neutral. that’s all i know. really.”

y/n nodded. “i believe you. and you’ve got some of the more important details..” she took a long sip of her water. “the war was between dream, alivebur, and technoblade.” tommy’s eyes widened.

“technoblade?”

“yeah,” she nodded. “dream sent out a claim for me, wilbur stepped in and tried to claim me in return, and then techno stepped in to stop the both of them and convince me to go with him.”

“wow,” tommy whispered, taking a drink. he took in the new information before changing his curiosity. “what were the battles?”

“the first official fight was between dream and wilbur,” she answered. “then they both started to gain support from friends, and build miniature..” she considered. “i wouldn’t dignify them as armies, but i guess they were miniature armies. i remember they all eventually got tired of those and began to send each other duel challenges, but i actually managed to shut that down.” tommy nodded. “just because..” she shook her head, looking out of the kitchen window. her eyes had grown distant. “that was not worth losing a canon life over.”

“was that the only thing you managed to stop during the war?” tommy asked, his voice quieter than before. y/n considered.

“i think so,” she sighed. “it was just such a ridiculous war; it was somehow over me, and yet i didn’t get a single say in anything that happened. i-i’m not some blacksmith you can lay claim to and use whenever you need!” she spoke defensively. realizing she was exuding her frustration in the wrong place, she took a breath and looked back to tommy calmly. “they treated me like a possession that entire war, and i couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

“was there ever a winner?” tommy questioned. “i mean, the war stopped eventually.”

“i was the winner,” y/n spoke. “i proved to them that i wasn’t a piece of property to steal, that i have control over my own life and my own actions. and then i established neutral.”

“how’d you prove it to them?” tommy asked, and immediately y/n’s gaze dropped. after receiving no response, he spoke, “.. y/n?”

“i’d rather not talk about it,” she said, looking back up at tommy seriously. “to this day it’s not something that im proud of, but things are different in war.”

tommy nodded. after a moment of tense silence, he couldn’t help but ask, “did you kill someone?”

y/n stood abruptly and tommy’s heart nearly dropped at the sight of the tears forming in her eyes. he had crossed a line. but not only had he done that.. y/n had killed someone.

“i-im sorry, y/n,” he spoke, shaking his head. “i shouldn’t have-”

“it’s fine, tommy,” she whispered, wiping at the tears in her eyes. she quickly spoke, “let’s take the afternoon off, alright?”

he nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. “alright.” 

he watched y/n sighed, dropping her hands tensely back to her sides as she voiced, “go relax.” she gave him one final nod before leaving the kitchen. he cringed when he heard her bedroom door whip shut, sighing as he looked to the empty kitchen surrounding him. 

technoblade, dream, and wilbur were all in love with y/n. or at least, had once been, and enough so that a war broke out for her heart. but as tommy considered what he had heard from y/n, he began to realize that the war may have began over y/n, but the boys became so blinded by their competition between each other that they allowed that love to turn to possession.

tag list <3 @vanhakirja @victory-is-here @inkyynki @airiour @sylum @kiritokunuwu @221bee-slytherin @bllatrixcarpnter @soullesstaco @stxrryb1tch @amibismexy @keiarma @akaichi-blog @runningoffofcaffeine @nonetookind @aquilla-favonia @feverish-dove @izuruamme @weeb-bb @bialin @justachillbisexual @kiritokunuwu @natalie-is-a-wall @woman-soot @boyleanti @nostalgic-writes @ahmya-4 @cryinqclouqs @littleliv5 @weeb-bb @truthdaze @dusky-purple-black @sadassflatass @dreamyteam​ @edgy-jim​ comment below or message me if you would like to be added <3

#dream smp x reader #dream smp fanfic #dream x reader #dream fanfic #dreamwastaken x reader #dwt x reader #dreamwastaken fanfic #dwt fanfic #technoblade x reader #technoblade fanfic #wilbur x reader #wilbur fanfic #alivebur x reader #alivebur fanfic #ghostbur x reader #ghostbur fanfic #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit fanfic

[five-rivers]

As An Egyptian Did

Warnings: kidnapping, slight starvation, discussion of impending death

.

It shouldn’t have been so difficult. Impersonate one of Billy’s little friends for a week, and Hotep Ra would—Well. That was between him and Hotep Ra. But things, as they so often did around liminals, got complicated.

He had known it wouldn’t be easy. He hadn’t a lick of technological skill, and getting Technus on board had been, hm, not precisely feasible. Amorpho didn’t like sharing the stage, anyway.

But! He had a plan. Hacking and whatnot required a toolset as well as a skillset. Take away one, and he could easily hide the lack of the other.

A bit of overshadowing to plant the idea before his entrance as ‘Tucker,’ a slouch and affectation of delinquency, a few carefully crafted lines… that was all it took to get grounded and banned from the use of all electronics.

That morning, he joined Billy and Samantha, moaning about his carefully choreographed loss and surreptitiously signalling to the weak ghosts he had managed to bribe into helping him, so that they’d distract Billy. Billy and Samantha didn’t seem at all suspicious. Good. His research into their annoying, oft-ignored friend was bearing fruit.

“Well,” said Samantha, “I know it sucks not being able to use them at home, but you do have the emergency one in your locker.”

Ah. That was an unexpected wrinkle. No matter. Amorpho was an expert at improvisation, and this was just another thing to break.

“It was a good idea to keep one there,” said Billy.

He would have to find a way to get rid of Billy soon, though. He would run out of allies before too long, and, as Spectra had discovered, Billy would, eventually, notice his ghost sense being played with.

Faking sick today might have been a smarter move- but shutting himself away in a human's room was no way to shine. Also, he might not remember what being sick felt like… No matter!

He spun the dial on the locker (with just a bit of flair) and popped the door open. With a tiny tug of ghostly telekinesis, the electronic fell out and cracked against the floor.

“Not my PDA!” wailed Amorpho. “My last hope!” He bent down, as if to try and salvage it (but in reality to make sure it was definitely, one hundred percent broken) but didn’t get there before Billy pushed him through the wall and into an empty classroom.

“Who are you?” demanded Billy, aura flaring through his eyes. “And what have you done with Tucker?”

“Wh-what? Dude, really, it’s me!”

“Try again,” snarled Billy.

“Really, Billy,” insisted Amorpho.

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “Amorpho,” he spat. “Where’s Tucker?”

“Er, um,” said Amorpho. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me what gave me away?”

“Other than you calling me by the wrong name again?”

“Back at the lockers,” specified Amorpho. If he could salvage nothing else from this disaster, he could, at least, improve his craft.

“Tucker’s got names for all his PDAs. I think that one was Susan or something.”

“That’s creepy.”

“You’re literally impersonating him.” Billy shoved a glowing fist into his face. “Now. Where is my friend?”

.

Honestly, Tucker thought that being Pharaoh would be pretty cool. Starving to death for it? Not so much.

As good as the food here looked and tasted - yes, he had caved and tried some - it didn’t have any substance. It didn’t make him full. Which. Yeah. Made sense. Eating at the Far Frozen or in Dora’s kingdom was like that for him and Sam, too. Danny was the only one who got any energy from it.

Anyway. The food wasn’t the point here. The point was that he’d been kidnapped. By ghosts. Which, uh. Was really more Danny’s thing than his.

And, yes, these were the Egyptian ghosts who had been interested in Tucker before, but that was strictly a mind control situation. Not something liable to make him miss class and have to give uncomfortable explanations to his parents. Overshadowing was a perfectly good excuse. Lots of people got overshadowed.

Where was he?

Right kidnapping. It was hard to think when he was this hungry! And it had only been a day. Ugh, even when he was fasting, he only had to last until dusk, and he had his parents doing the same thing.

This sucked.

Danny had better come get him soon, because he had tested out a few things, and he didn’t think he could get out on his own. Like, he could walk through the walls (or fall through the floor, more often) but there were a lot of ghosts here, and also… well… They were on a floating island.

Tucker couldn’t fly.

Like, at all.

(But Danny didn’t know where he was.)

He paced back and forth across the painted floor of the luxurious, golden room he’d been given. All of the ghosts here were so respectful of him, except for Hotep Ra, who had made himself scarce after depositing Tucker, but they were also incredibly unhelpful. And disturbingly excited about his upcoming ‘ascension.’

Which he was pretty sure was code for ‘we’re waiting for you to kick it.’

He really had to come up with a plan for if Danny couldn’t find him.

He could try dropping through the floor and out the bottom of the island again. Last time, they’d just sent a ghost to get him, but maybe they wouldn’t, this time? Yeah, and maybe he’d fall through a portal straight into the Nasty Burger, too, and they’d give him a free Mega Meaty Special.

Not likely. He’d starve while falling just as quickly as he would here.

He’d tried talking his way out, but while all of the Egyptian ghosts here professed their love and loyalty to him, they also were definitely fanatics. They truly believed that him dying was for the best. Was the best for him. Tucker couldn’t do anything with that. Even if he was the smoothest talker in the Ghost Zone (which he was).

(Even if the girls were really pretty and definitely into him.)

(Because they were into him for his spirit, not his body. As in, they wanted his disembodied spirit. Haha.)

He wished-

Hey, wait a second. That was something he hadn’t tried yet.

“Desiree!” he whisper-yelled. “I wish I was home in Amity Park!”

He waited, tense.

“Desiree! I wish I was home in Amity Park right now! Or at least somewhere in the human world? Pretty please?”

Nothing. Figures she wouldn’t show up the one time it’d be useful. Well, forget her.

What else could he do? If he had his PDA, maybe he could set up some kind of distress call. Or… yeah, there wasn’t anything for him to hack around here. Yeah.

Ugh, the first time around with Hotep Ra was way easier to deal with. And cooler. And more fun. And he was able to fix it all with the scepter-

Oh, that had some merit. Maybe there’d be, like, a spare scepter somewhere? One he could use?

He turned to face the door and rubbed his hands together nervously, feeling over his knuckles. It was a longshot, but… he didn’t have anything to lose, did he?

He closed his eyes and phased through the door. Even after all this time, that still felt weird. Especially under his own power.

The halls were somehow both hot and chilled, the false sun beating down through the windows, and the air misted by fountains. Someone sang softly in the distance. The hairs on the back of Tucker’s neck stood up.

This place was so cool. But so, so, creepy.

Now, if he were a magical staff, where would he be? Was there a magical staff storage room? Nah, that was dumb. Maybe just, like, an all purpose magical object storage room? Yeah, that sounded better.

Now, Tucker wasn’t exactly an infiltration expert, or an expert on how ghost Egypt organized their giant gold-plated (or was it solid gold? He didn’t know and it was bothering him. Did electroplating even exist back then? Baghdad batteries were a thing at least, right?) undead palaces full of mummy people and mobile clay statue thingies. Ushabti.

(How did he know that?)

They hadn’t bothered to put any guards on him - supposedly because of something about the sanctity of his person, but more probably because they didn’t think he could escape on his own - so he wasn’t particularly worried about wandering around. Even so, wherever he heard anyone - or thought he heard anyone - he tried to hide. One time he wound up halfway inside a wall.

Then, of course, he passed by a place with food, and even if he knew it wouldn’t actually feed him, he couldn’t help but slow down a little… But he snapped out of it. If he got out of here, then he could eat. Real food. His mom’s cooking. Maybe he could talk her into trying a few things with dates (the fruit; don’t be gross), though… Those things tasted great.

But, back to what he was actually doing. Despite not being at all an expert, being a (pretty good) hacker meant that he did have some idea of where people put important rooms. After all, getting physical access to servers was an important component of being able to complete a high-level hack.

Okay, maybe he was a little bit of an expert. Sam was money, Danny was the brawn, and Tucker was the brains. Obviously the most important part.

People tended to keep things they wanted safe in central areas, away from public traffic, often underground. With those guidelines, he could start looking.

Most of the big, locked doors he encountered in the first hour were false leads. Although, he didn’t actually find many of those in the first hour. He kept getting sort of dizzy and faint, enough to force him to stop and rest until he didn’t have spots dancing across his vision anymore.

In the second hour, he found a treasury. There was a lot of gold in there, but not much in the way of other items.

After some more fruitless searching and hiding from ghosts, Tucker contemplated the floor. He was very much not a fan of falling through them, but he didn’t have a lot of other options right now. From the last time he dropped through the floor (and out the bottom of the island), he was pretty sure there was another level down there, but he couldn’t find any stairs down.

He held his breath when he dropped, and gasped loudly and greedily when light hit his face again. Of course, he hit the floor again right after, and had all the air knocked out of him.

He coughed, then sneezed. There was a lot of dust here. Ow, his eyes. And back. Definitely also, ow, his back. Yikes.

After he’d rubbed the dust out of his eyes, though…

He was exactly where he wanted to be. While there weren’t any immediately obvious staffs, everything here glittered with magic, despite the layer of dust.

… How did he know what magic glittered like?

Never mind that! He saw exactly what he needed! This ring would teleport him - how did he know that? - to his nearest friends!

He put it on and--

--dropped onto the central console of the Specter Speeder.

“Ow!” he said.

“Tucker!” screamed Danny and Sam, both of them trying to hug him at once. Danny won, because of intangibility.

“How did you get here?” asked Danny.

“Explain later, food now,” said Tucker. “I haven’t eaten since I was kidnapped.”

“Er,” said Danny, “we didn’t bring any food…”

“What?”

“This was a kind of last minute rescue,” said Sam, apologetically.

“We can check and see if Dad left any fudge in the secret fudge compartment?” suggested Danny.

“You know what? Sure. At this point, I’ll take some suspicious Fenton Fudge. Let’s do that.”

#danny phantom #ectober #ectoberhaunt treat #ectoberhaunt trick #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectober 2021 #ectober day 10 #ectober mummy #ectober doppelganger

[griffintail]

Hello! So I was new at your blog and I feel like ive discovered the 9th cloud of heaven 🤯 so I don't know if youre in the mood but i loved your technoblade child reader fics and i really wanted to ask if you could write a overprotective!tecnho x f!child reader? i feel like it sucks so im not pushing you to do it-

I probably took it a different way than what you were thinking but I hope you still enjoy!

Utmost Care

Pairing: Technoblade X F! Reader

Warnings: Overprotective nature, Light Angst, Mentions of Swords, Mentions of Scars

~~~~~~~~~~~

Techno didn’t hold a lot of things with value but when he finally did, they were protected with the utmost care. That goes the same for living beings. His daughter certainly was one of those beings.

All of (Y/N)’s life, Techno always kept his eye on her or made someone he trusted with his life was watching her, meaning only he or Phil watched her. If Phil couldn’t watch her at the time, Techno then took her with him, keeping her close the entire time. And, if (Y/N) could tell the truth, as she got older, it was tiring.

She was thirteen years old but she wasn’t allowed to go off on her own. She either had to go with Techno and Phil, the only time she could be alone was in her own room. It was extremely tiring when she couldn’t learn new things that could be considered dangerous. Techno wouldn’t teach her to fight or brew or enchant because he said she’d never need it.

She just wanted to do something without the need for approval. She just wanted to be her own person and live her life as she wanted.

So…that’s how she started sneaking out hours at a time. She was only allowed her own peace and quiet in her room? Alright, she used that to her advantage and locked her door when she knew Techno was busy either tending to things and wouldn’t check on her for hours. When she left, she went to the one place she knew mischief was encouraged.

“Uncle Tommy!” (Y/N) grinned as she walked in the door.

“Here comes trouble!” Tommy grinned.

Tommy indeed encouraged the things Techno considered bad. He helped teach the girl how to fight, taught her to brew, showed her a few things with enchanting, and most certainly let her go off on her own around L’Manberg or the SMP, though he did warn her to be more careful in the SMP lands.

(Y/N) felt free and felt like her own person finally without a weight of watchful eye on her.

It was one of those days once more. Tommy was teaching (Y/N) the ways of the sword.

“Come on, stop trying to hit me and hit me!” Tommy grinned cheekily, then yelping as (Y/N) swung as hard as she could with a smirk.

It was just another day for the pair, they just didn’t know it wasn’t another day for Techno. (Y/N) always left when Techno was on his own because he did get distracted when Phil was around or Phil tended to help him. So, if Phil was around, going out was a no-go. Phil usually showed up in the early mornings so she could tell if she could sneak out pretty early in the day.

But, today, Phil had been held up in L’Manberg and came late.

“Hey mate!” Phil called as he walked over to Techno’s.

“Phil, you’re pretty late,” Techno said.

“Yeah, had to help with some things in L’Manberg first.” Phil shrugged. “Farming all by yourself today?”

“(Y/N) said she wanted to read and she might come out later,” Techno told him as they went into the house, Techno resting his hoe by the door. “(Y/N)! The old man’s here.”

“Fuck off mate.” Phil laughed.

Techno smirked as he cleaned off his hands but frowned when he heard no movement in the rooms above.

“(Y/N)!” Techno called once more.

“She might be sleeping in, let her be.” Phil waved it off. “She’s alright.”

But the voices whispered worry, only fueling Techno’s.

“She doesn’t usually sleep in. I’m going to check on her.” Techno said before going up the ladder.

He went to (Y/N)’s room knocking, but there was once more silence. He didn’t like that.

“(Y/N).” He said trying the door handle, but found it locked. “What the-Hey. What’s with the locked door?”

“Techno?” Phil called up concerned by the conversation he was hearing.

She wasn’t saying anything though and the voices whispered panic and Techno reacted. He took a step back before kicking in the door. Phil jumped before quickly coming up the ladder as Techno went into the room.

“Techno!” Phil shouted as he followed after.

Techno’s breath came quicker out of his nose as Phil came in.

“(Y/N)’s not here. Someone took her.” Techno moved past Phil.

Phil looked at his son leaving the room before looking at the teenager’s room. The only mess was the door but (Y/N) indeed wasn’t here and his wings puffed before he rapidly following after Techno.

“You know, the last thing I thought Techno would do was not teach you how to use a sword,” Tommy said as he leaned back on the bench overlooking the river below his base.

(Y/N) sat next to him, both of their training swords laying down close by.

“I always ask him to teach me but he just tells me I don’t need to learn how to fight. I’ll be fine.” She huffed. “What am I going to do if a mob manages to get in? Can you imagine if a creeper managed to come into our house? It could just blow me and the house up because I couldn’t do anything, I might as well just stand still.”

“Ah, he’s always had a stick up his ass.” Tommy waved his hand. “And an ego. He probably thinks he can keep everything from hurting you.”

“But that’s the point uncle Tommy!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “If he taught me, it’s almost a guarantee I won’t get hurt. I could protect myself and go out and meet people. Do whatever I want.”

“He’ll figure it out eventually,” Tommy assured her.

“Alright!”

Both of them jumped as they looked around wildly, Tommy giving a scream, hearing the voice of said man. Then, a moment later, they realized it was their walkies and shared a look.

“Whoever has my kid can bring her back now and have a painless death.”

“Uh oh.” They both muttered.

(Y/N) scrambled to get her things as Tommy stood up in a panic.

“Bye!” (Y/N) shouted before sprinting towards home.

How the hell was she supposed to explain this? Oh no dad, I just decided to wander in the forest with no warm clothes?

“It’s going to be a shitty day.” She muttered as she slipped into the portal and sprinted down the pathway towards the home portal.

Deciding it was better before her father started searching homes, she took out her walkie.

“Dad!” She spoke. “What’s the problem?”

Techno froze in his path, looking at Phil before taking off his walkie. “(Y/N), where are you right now?”

“I just…went for a little walk. My legs were starting to cramp up.” She lied, wincing slightly.

“Your door was locked (Y/N). What happened?”

“I don’t know the door handle must have broke.” She tried as she felt relief seeing the home portal.

“(Y/N), what’s going on?” Techno asked in frustration.

None of this was adding up. What the hell was going on?

“Nothing dad, everything is—” She stepped out of the portal and froze when she was met with two netherite decorated family members. “Fine…”

Phil’s eyes were wide as Techno stood there quiet for a moment.

…

“YOU WENT IN THE NETHER!?” Techno shouted throwing up his arms.

“Dad, look I can explain—” She tried.

“No! I-What were you thinking?!”

“I—”

Techno looked her over. “Is that a sword?! What—You don’t fight! What the hell were you doing?!”

“Look—”

“Mate—” Phil tried to even cut in.

“No! We’re going home.”

Techno went to grab her arm but she moved back.

“LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!” (Y/N) shouted as she shook.

Techno stood in shock as Phil took a step back, this was between father and daughter.

“I-I-Yes! I snuck out! And yes! I have a sword! But its-I just wanted to live for once! You don’t let me go out on my own! You don’t let me train or learn anything you do! I stay at home! And read and learn about farming and crafting basic ass shit! And that’s it! If I’m lucky I get to go out to the village with you keeping a close ass eye on me! And I’m tired of it!”

Techno was quiet as (Y/N) took deep breaths before he came towards her.

“You know that to keep you safe.”

“Oh, shove it, dad! What’s the point of being safe when I don’t know anything! I felt like I was going crazy and I-I can’t do that anymore daddy. I can’t.”

(Y/N) had tears in her eyes. She hated it; she was so tired of it. She was so tired.

Techno was stood in shock hesitating before coming over and hugging her tightly.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered to her. “I…I didn’t know it was hurting so much…”

It was a bit awkward of a hug with his armor on but (Y/N) hugged him back regardless.

Techno had wanted to just keep her safe. He had so many enemies and seen so many things in his life…He just didn’t want his little girl to see all the same things he had and he didn’t want her to carry the same scars. But all the while, it seemed he was hurting her in a different way.

“I’m sorry. We’ll figure it out, ok?”

“Please.” She nodded.

He’ll figure it out, he’ll still make sure she was safe, but he’d figure it out for his little girl to be happy…

====================================

General Taglist: @devilchicc @technoblades-sword

(WHY CAN"T I TAG YOU)

#technoblade x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt oneshots #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #dreamsmp x reader

[illusionsofdreaming]

would it be okay to request headcanons with the main trio from TCF who aren't in a relationship with the (fem) reader yet but they like each other, the guys get hurt or something and the reader is so scared of losing them or was so anxious that she ended up kissing them? You can edit a few parts if you'd prefer! thank you, i know you have a lot of requests but you're the only one who writes x reader for them-

Notes: It took forever+forever but I finally gave up trying to perfect it- y'all just going to have to deal with these half baked potatos as I sob in the corner for my lack of functioning writing braincells.

+ 'nonny I know you asked for Fem reader but I'm just so used to writing gender neutral nowadays I actually forgot to write Fem reader in. Uh. I mean it's gender neutral so it should work regardless?? I'msorrypleaseforgivemeforthisblunder

Ft: Cale, Alberu, Choi Han

Cale Henituse

He’s covered in blood.

Again.

He glanced down at his shirt, once white, now completely soaked and rapidly losing warmth. The icky feeling of sticky cloth stuck on skin caused goosebumps to break out all over his arms. The lethargy that weighed on him was hard to ignore, but expected after using his ancient powers-

“Cale!”

He turned just as the full force of you barrelled into him and he staggered, unbalanced and would’ve fallen had you not pulled him back. He barely had time to protest at your rough greeting when you began frantically patting him down as if scouring him for weapons.

“There’s so much- where are you hurt?” you demanded harshly, your tone pitched higher than normal. “Raon call for Saint Jack and the others, medics- anyone that can help!”

“Y-yes! I-I will! Weak hu-human you better not die or I will destroy the kingdom!”

“Wai-“ his protests were ignored as the dragon flew off, leaving Cale dumbfounded with his jaw hanging down in disbelief. “Wait you don’t have to find the others, I’m fi-“

“Cale Henituse, if I hear you say ‘I’m fine’ I’m going to sock you to kingdom fucking come.“ you seethed. His lips snapped shut obediently, swallowing the aforementioned phrase down as a foreboding chill crept down his spine.

But I am..?

“How could you..” your voice shook even as you clung onto his soaked shirt so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re always doing stupid things like this…”

Cale frowned, feeling a bit indignant. Sure his plans weren’t the most thought out at times, but to call them stupid…

“If you waited for us to come, then you wouldn’t have to- why do you keep sacrificing yourself like this?”

That triggered an alarm in his head. What strange things were you talking about? The act of sacrifice were done by martyrs and selfless heroes and Cale Henituse was neither of those. He wanted to correct your misunderstanding but you were worked up and hysterical and it was with horror that he realised you were crying.

“________-“

“Don’t talk! Please, just conserve your energy- I won’t let you die, I promised the kids and the others- I won’t let you-”

The alarm bells in his head rang even louder and he fought to be heard over your rambling, “_________- no one’s dying, I’m fine-” it felt as if his heart had leapt to his throat as he stopped your fist before it could make contact. You really weren’t joking when you said you’d punch him. He tightened his hold on your wrist when you tried to twist out of his grip and swallowed nervously. “I’m not hurt _________,“ he emphasised, willing you to meet his eyes.

“Stop bullshitting me Cale- how much of a fucking idiot do you take me for? How can anyone be fine after losing this much blood-“

“It’s not mine.”

You stilled in his grasp.

“…W-what?”

He frowned. Was it really that hard to believe his words? “The blood’s not mine.” he repeated and made sure to meet your disbelieving gaze head on so that you could verify the truth in his words. “They were cut down before they could harm me. None of this blood is mine. I was not hurt.“ It was a partial lie. He did cough out some blood after instinctively activating the shield for protection but he felt that that was knowledge you’d be better off not knowing.

The coiled tension in you leaked out and Cale slowly released his grip on your hand and took a cautious step back - just in case. It was a good thing he managed to deescalate the situation before the others arrived. Just convincing one person was hassle enough and from experience alone, he knew the others weren’t as merciful when it came to learning about his injuries, regardless of severity or his protests otherwise. Cale shuddered. He really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Ron’s cold smile again. He glanced up and saw Raon’s flying figure and he waved lazily to the dragon hoping the young one would understand that the healers were no longer necessary, it had only been a false alarm.

“..ot.”

“Hm?” He looked down, hearing you mumble but didn’t quite catch what you’d said.

He was not prepared to be yanked forward and for your lips to mash against his. There was a brief sting where your teeth had caught on his lip and the uncomfortable sensation of having your teeth clack against each other, noses in the way. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights, thoughts reeling but before he could think of acting, to push or pull you in even closer-

You let him go just as abruptly and he staggered, breath stolen, mind in absolute disarray.

Then you slapped him. Which definitely cleared his thoughts. “You idiot!”

Stupefied, he watched as you stormed off, stuck in a daze as he cradled his face where his cheek and lips tingled for different reasons.

“…What..?”

Choi Han

Choi Han didn’t know what Cale saw in you back then, a complete stranger whom they saved by chance and nursed back to health with utmost care. You, who Cale insisted was the final key to their masterplan and then asked Choi Han to act as your escort.

There were many things Choi Han didn’t understand when it came to Cale-nim’s decisions. But that wasn’t so unusual and he’d never made it a habit to question Cale’s reasoning, having learned to be patient, knowing the pieces would eventually slot together in the grand picture. So although initially wary he was of your unclear history and affiliation, he stayed by your side and did his duty without question.

And perhaps after weeks of accompanying you, he’s beginning to see what Cale saw. Though powerless and weak, you were righteous and passionate, holding true to your belief even in the face of adversaries. You were the perfect replacement for the tyrannical ruler of the country, someone capable of salvaging the crumbling system of a neglected, abused society and lifting it to new heights and glory.

With the flames of revolution ignited, everything hinged on getting you safely to Cale on the final stage. While the revolutionaries fought and acted as distractions above ground, he escorted you through the abandoned waterways.

The undergrounds were dark and cramped, incredibly disadvantageous to a swordsman such as himself. When assassins leaped out in an ambush; Choi Han didn’t hesitate. Without time nor space to draw his sword, he pushed you behind him and raised his arm to block the strike.

As the momentum of the assassin’s blade stopped, it became simple matter to quickly disarm and finish them. Having checked and affirmed that there’s no forthcoming attacks, he urged you to hurry, now worried as they weren’t expected to be discovered so soon.

Something must’ve happened, we should hurry to Cale-nim’s side-

He was halted with a firm grip on his other hand and was pulled back as he was met with your stern, unwavering gaze and declaration that you will not move another step from this spot until his arm got treated first.

Which was a ridiculous request considering they were running on a tight schedule. He frowned and his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword as you pulled him to the side.

When none of his objections were being heard, he tried reasoning with you. The wound may look horrible, but he’d assured you he’d angled his arm just so that the blade would’ve caught on his bone rather than tendons. It was a strategic move that not only blocked momentum but also kept damage to his non-dominant arm at the minimum. He would not have bled to death nor would he be crippled from it, something that barely needed the emergency care you insisted on.

“It’s not necessary, we need to get to the tower room first.”

“The room is not moving anywhere, I’d rather not risk having you develop an infection because you neglected to care for your wound.“

He flinched when alcohol was poured on the cut and Choi Han breathed out slowly, his frustration mounting as precious seconds passed. Something in his chest stirred uncomfortably. He’s not accustomed to having others care for his wounds, having spent so many years caring for them himself whilst hiding his weaknesses from monsters in the Forest of Darkness.

“I will attend to it after I’ve brought you to Master Cale’s side, we must-“

Your eyes flashed with anger as your grip tightened painfully around his arm. “So many things have been lost to reach this stage, I’d rather not lose more on the way there.”

“Cale-“

Perhaps you’ve had enough as well as the next thing he knew, your fingers dug into his arm and he found himself yanked forward and you pressing a hard, determined kiss that stole whatever he was going to say from his lips.

“Cale Henituse,” you said sternly when you parted and picked up a roll of bandages, “can afford to wait a bit longer.” you glared at him as if daring him to argue otherwise.

Not that it was necessary, considering he’d doubt he’d have the coherency to answer anything with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his face.

Alberu Crossman

He didn’t feel anything upon the moment of impact. Only the shocking cold of metal being slid into his side and the vicious gaze of the perpetrator pressed up to his front.

The pain ripped through a moment later and he gritted his teeth, red spilling down his lips. It hurts.

Activity bursted around him, screams of fear echoed through the ballroom as guards rushed to his side. However one voice in particular caught his attention and he looked up to catch your horrified expression, lips parted in a desperate cry.

His forehead furrowed as a strange sense of guilt washed over him- he didn’t want you to see this- but he didn’t have time to explore the feeling as his hand latched firmly on the hand which still held the weapon in his side, preventing their escape.

His smile was red, “Caught you now, rat.”

═════☩══♛══☩═════

He tousled his hair dry with a towel as he read through the reports in his hand.

Alberu was exhausted, the fight to rid his side of his enemies’ spies had always been an ongoing and tedious project. His enemies were cunning and always played things safe however their impatience this time would cost them. Now that one of their own has fallen into his hands, they can start pulling in the net.

A knock sounded on his door and he didn’t bother looking up from his reports as he gave permission. “Come in.”

“Did you manage to find any new information from them?” he asked immediately as the door opened. Anything gleaned from the assassin would be beneficial to his cause. Not that he truly expected any confessions to be given this night. Any hired killer worth their salt would know not to betray the mastermind behind a hit. But there were more than one way to find credible information aside from words torn directly from the lips of a captive.

When no answer came, he looked up and immediately dropped the papers he was reading.

“___________…”

In the aftermath of the attack and the capture of the assassin he’d been immediately escorted to the healers for first aid. With the bare minimum done he’d left quickly to take control of the situation, calming the aristocrats and giving orders to assign all guests to be escorted to a room in the palace to rest from the unexpected development - the smarter ones would know this was just a way to keep all suspects in one place, stalling for time so that his trusted aides may work to narrow down the most likely suspects. He had been meaning to find you and explain once everything settled but this time you took matters into your own hands.

Your eyes glanced at the documents he dropped. “Am I disturbing your work?”

“No,” he replied instantly, fighting back the urge to shuffle the papers behind him. “No, you’re not.”

The room lapsed into silence once more as neither of you seemed keen to address the elephant in the room.

“About tonight…” he started slowly, “they had to believe I had my guards lowered.”

The truth was, though he believed you would not have been behind the attack, you had to be tested all the same. Should it be known you’ve been partial to this plan, it would’ve given the real culprits leverage to use.

You approached him and he wished you would say something. He noted the redness in your eyes and felt a stab of guilt lodge in his chest. “It had to be believable.”

You didn’t meet his eyes and your hand hovered over where his wound had been.

He lifted the edge of his shirt up to reveal the pink scar tissue underneath. It was ugly and badly healed due to the rush he had been in. “I wasn’t in any real danger.” he said softly, staying still and resisting the urge to shiver when your fingers traced the scar.

“You’re picking up bad habits from Cale.” You said so softly he would’ve missed it had he not been paying attention.

“The padded shirt under prevented the blade from going too deep.” he explained, hoping you’d understand that he hadn’t been reckless. Everything had been planned carefully. He slowly tucked his shirt back in as you withdrew your hand, already missing the warmth you brought to his skin just moments ago.

“__________…”

You leaned in and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that again.” you whispered against his cheek.

He could only watch in astonishment as you turned away and exited his room.

“..Okay..” he said hoarsely to the empty room.

#tcf #trash of the count's family #imagines #tcf x reader #cale henituse #alberu crossman #choi han #kiss #pre relationship #confession..? #i honestly don't have enough brain power to tag things rn #i also have not proofread this much so #it's A MESS #i'll come back to edit this when I'm more awake or something #ngl the whole time while i was struggling with this #i was thinking how ridiculous that i've spent so long agonising over writing with words #but consuming it would only take less than a minute LOL #now im back at 0 and im feeling a bit sad

[slasherhaven]

Hey! You did a request where the slashers' S/O finds out about what they do and leaves, what about a version where they find out and are scared, but try to accept it? Like they are very much terrified and not sure how to react, but they know they love their slasher. If that makes sense. Thanks so much! Your writing brings me so much joy 💜

Part 1 Here

The Slashers S/O finding out what they do (But this time they stay):

Thomas Hewitt

You had known Thomas for a while now. When he worked at the meat processing plant. He was quiet, kept to himself, but he was sweet. The sweetest man you had met in that place.

The two of you became close, you started dating.

Then the factory closed, most people moved out of town. You were trying to stay but it was getting difficult.

But the Hewitts stayed and you visited Thomas everyday. Luda May loved you and you loved her, thinking of her as a mother figure.

You loved Thomas and he loved you, more than anything.

You visited everyday, and today it seemed that nobody was home. But the door was open so you just let yourself in, knowing nobody would mind.

You called for Thomas but got no response. But you heard a sound in the basement.

Maybe he was doing some repairs or something down there? You just shrugged and headed down the stairs.

You froze at the bottom of the stairs.

There Thomas was, the man you loved, hacking up a body, reminding you of his time at the factory…but much more disturbing.

The stair creaked as you shifted, catching Thomas’ attention.

He turned, expecting Hoyt or Luda May but he saw you and froze.

“Tommy…”

You looked between him and the body of a young man before coming to your senses, darting back up the stairs.

Thomas followed behind you. He wanted to explain…to beg for forgiveness…or do something.

You were the best thing that ever happened to him, the only person to show him kindness and love. You made him feel like he might actually deserve love, somebody as good as you, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He couldn’t even comprehend the thought of losing you.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you nearly ran right into Luda May. Seeing the fear in your eyes and the tears staining your cheeks, she knew what had happened.

“Oh sweetie, come on, it’s going to be alright. Let’s sit you down and get you something to drink” she placed a hand on your arm, looking back at the panicked Thomas, and ushered you into the kitchen. “It’s all going to be okay, you’re family. I’m sure Tommy will explain everything to you” she placed a cup of sweet tea in front of you before leaving you and Thomas in the kitchen.

He sat with you and he did explain everything. How it all began, how Hoyt seemed to lose his mind. There was a moment you thought you were going to throw up when he informed you what they did with the bodies but you managed to keep your food down, drinking from your tea.

And Thomas apologised. For what he does, for hiding it from you, for you having to see it, for you having to be with somebody like him.

Your fear was overwhelmed by your love and protectiveness over the man in front of you, even now he was so sweet. You told him that he didn’t need to apologise for you being with him, you were with him because you loved him. “...I still love you” you confessed, realising it yourself.

Even after all this, you loved Thomas. You knew that this should have put an end to all feelings you had for him but it didn’t, you still loved him more than anything.

Thomas was surprised by your confession. He knew you loved him, he just didn’t think you could still love him after this. He could cry just from how much he loves you.

This was a lot but you would try to understand, try to accept it, all so that you could be with him and be there for him.

Like Luda May said you’re family, so you’ll probably be moving in with them. Thomas is super protective of you, making sure you stay as far away from the gory business, which you appreciate.

It would be a slow process, accepting this way of life, but Tommy was the reason you were doing this and he made it worth it.

Bo Sinclair

Continued straight from Part 1. 

You stayed, mostly against your will, but you hadn’t spoken to Bo since you found out the truth about the town. He tried to talk to you but you were still processing, so he attempted to give you some space.

You noticed that he was trying to give you space, to be less intense, to not scare you or come on too strong. You appreciated that because it was so unlike him, it showed that he was trying in some manner.

Eventually the time came that more visitors came to the town, and you had been sent up to the house and told to stay there. You weren’t about to argue with that.

It was dark by the time everything had been ‘dealt’ with. Vincent was in his workroom and Lester had gone home, Bo hadn’t come back to the house yet. So, you had just decided to go to bed and try to ignore everything that had happened today.

It was late when you heard movement downstairs, of course you hadn’t actually managed to get any sleep. You heard a bang followed by Bo cursing. You sighed before climbing out of bed and walking downstairs to see what was going on.

You walked into the kitchen and saw Bo using a damp cloth to clean the slash wound on his arm. You figured there was a struggle when he was...doing what he does.

You walked over to him, taking the cloth out of his hand. He was about to snap until he realised it was you, he seemed to relax then.

“I’ve got it” he assured you, reaching for the cloth.

“Just let me help” you sighed, bringing the cloth back to his arm to wipe the blood away. Bo wasn’t going stop you, at least you were talking to him.

You cleaned away the blood and decided that the wound didn’t need stitches, just a bandage. 

“Thank you for being patient” you spoke quietly as you wrapped the bandage around his arm. “I just...I need a little more time. This isn’t easy but it’s helping, I promise.” 

Patience wasn’t something that Bo was good at but he was managing it, so you just wanted him to know that it was paying off, he just had to keep it up a little longer.

Bo didn’t respond, he didn’t know what to say. He was just glad that you were talking to him, and that you did see things going back so somewhat normal, you just needed more time.

“Thanks” Bo mumbled as you finished securing the bandage.

“No problem. Don’t like seeing you hurt” you whispered, nearly pulling a smile from him. Even now, you cared about him and that meant a lot. “Do you think...do you think you could just lay with me tonight?” honestly, you had missed him, you just couldn’t go right back to normal quite yet.

“Sure thing, darlin’” Bo wrapped his good arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards his chest. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist, the two of you just standing there for a while as he rested his chin on top of your head.

After a tiring day, Bo would normally come back to you. That hadn’t been an option lately, but things seemed to be getting better.

Vincent Sinclair

Continued straight from Part 1.

You had to stay, there was no way Bo would let you leave, so you stayed, even if it was kind of against your will.

You were able to keep up with your chores, distracting yourself from the reality of the town. 

Vincent distanced himself from you a little, figuring that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him, but he couldn’t just leave you alone right now. He’d check in on you, making sure you were doing alright.

There had just been a lot of tension between the two of you, neither of you knowing what to say or do.

It took a lot of time for you to process everything that you had learnt, and Vincent had taken the time to explain everything to you, and answer any questions you had.

Things had gone back to normal, other than your relationship with Vincent. You still shared a room, you were still technically together, the two of you just didn’t really act like it anymore. Neither of you really knew where you stood, but you both knew that it was you that would have to make the first move to letting him know you’re alright.

It had been a rough day, Bo was in a bad mood, and you and Vincent couldn’t lean on each other to feel better. Until that night.

You walked into the bedroom to see him sitting on the end of the bed, he looked over at you as you closed the door, wondering what you were thinking when you walked right up to him.

You moved to stand between his legs and reached up, removing his mask and placing it down on the bed beside him.

Vincent lent into your touch as you caressed the scarred side of his face. It was difficult to come to terms with what was happening in the town but you managed it, and during that time you were reminded that Vincent was still the same Vincent you knew, the man you loved.

“I love you, Vinny” you spoke softly, knowing that was all you needed to say to promise him that everything was going to be alright.

The two of you spent the rest of the night just holding each other, feeling some comfort in knowing that you were still there for each other and that wasn’t going to change.

Lester Sinclair

You had thought Ambrose was a blessing. The three brothers taking you in during your time of need. You moved in properly with Lester a little later when you started dating.

But this town was far from a blessing, you realised that when you discovered the truth about the town, learning about how the brothers got their victims and what they did to them.

As soon as you saw all of this, you hurried back to the home you shared with Lester.

Oh Lester…sweet, energetic, kind Lester…how could he be apart of this?

You couldn’t even think straight, pacing around the room, wiping the tears away from your face. You suddenly turned to the front door when it opened and closed, Lester stepping inside.

His heart broke when he saw your tear stained face. You knew…you knew everything...

“Y/n, I…I’m sorry” was he apologising for being involved in those people’s deaths, he guessed so. He knew it wouldn’t help but he hoped you could see his sincerity.

“How could you be a part of this, Lester?” you asked, tears staining your cheeks. You just couldn’t picture the man you loved ever purposely hurting an innocent person.

“I…I’m sorry” he wanted to give you an explanation just like you deserved but he didn’t have one, not one that would make things better. So he just apologised again, because he was so sorry that you had to see any of this. “I know it ain’t right but...I-I never hurt those people” he told you.

“No...you just sabotaged their cars? Took them into town so your brothers could kill them?” you looked at him in disbelief. You knew what he was trying to say but he couldn’t distance himself from this.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to get mixed up in this” he apologised yet again.

“...you’re killing people, Lester” you shook your head. He wanted to argue the technicalities but knew that it wouldn’t matter. “...I’m scared” you confessed. Even now, you couldn’t fear him. You knew that he wasn’t going to hurt you.

In fact, you had a feeling that if you wanted to walk out that door, he would let you.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/n” Lester promised you and you nodded, knowing he was being truthful. “Please...please don’t leave” he pleaded with you.

“...I’m not going to leave” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. How did you end up in this situation?

“You’re not?” Lester asked, clearly surprised.

“I’m not...I just...I need some time, okay?” you knew that you needed to sit down and talk to him about all of this some more, you needed to know their reasons and how this all started. You couldn’t just move on without that conversation.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Thank you” he nodded a little frantically, just happy that you weren’t going to run away. Even if he couldn’t blame you if you did.

“But I can’t go into town. I can’t look at those figures or even your brothers right now” you told him, shaking your head.

“Okay, that’s fine, as long as you’re here” Lester nodded again, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around you.

You tensed for a moment before relaxing, remembering that this was still your sweet Lester. So you wrapped your arms around him and just cried into his shoulder while he held you and shushed you.

He knew that this wasn’t going to be easy, that a lot of things would change and he would need to be patient, but he was ready to put in the work and show you that he’s still the man you thought he was.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Continued straight from Part 1.

After calming down and processing everything you had just learnt, you unlocked the bedroom door and stepped out. But Asa wasn’t there.

Heading down the stairs, you found him waiting in the living room, knowing that you couldn’t leave the house without passing him there.

As soon as you stepped into the room, he was looking at you, clearing trying to figure out what you were thinking and feeling.

He gestured to the place beside him on the couch, and you knew you didn’t really have a choice. So you sat down beside him, leaving a fair amount of distance between you both.

“I’ll tell you everything, answer every question you have” Asa promised, and he did. He told you everything he does and why, he answered all your questions. Got you tissues and made you a hot drink. He would have made you food but you didn’t have much of an appetite. 

“Where you ever going to tell me or...did you think I would just never find out?” you asked. 

“You wouldn’t have found out. If it weren’t for whoever sent you that package, you wouldn’t have found out” he sounded sure of himself. You wished you could argue with him but you knew he was right, you had no clue. If he didn’t want you to know, you wouldn’t have ever found out.

“So you would’ve just kept lying to me?” you didn’t know whether to be annoyed or pleased that he was being so honest with you now. 

“Would you have preferred I tell you everything and risk this exact reaction?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious, but you didn’t have an answer for him. 

“...you’re going to find out who sent that package, aren’t you?” you asked and he nodded. “And what will you do to them?” you already knew the answer.

“I’ll take care of it” Asa told you simply. You just nodded, how were you supposed to respond to that? “Nothing has to change” he assured you.

“It will...it already has. You’re a murderer, Asa. How am I supposed to just overlook that?” you asked in disbelief.  

“The fact that you came out of the bedroom, that you’re sitting and talking with me now, tells me that you’ll be able too. Some day” he told you, making you sigh. It made sense. You were reacting far too calmly now. “No more secrets. I tell you everything and you be honest about how you’re feeling. That’s the only way this can work, okay?” he asked.

“...okay” you agreed with a small nod. 

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Jesse has plenty of enemies, not that you know that, and it was one of those enemies that decided that the best way to get to him was through you.

You were home alone, Jesse away on a business trip, when somebody rang the doorbell.

When you answered the door, nobody was there. Just a box set on the doorstep.

You were careful, you looked around, gently opened the box but only saw videotapes. Weird.

You took the box inside and took a closer look. There were plenty of videotapes, the box full. Each one was labelled by a state, a town, a month. You didn’t know what any of that meant.

So, like an idiot, you played a tape.

You were horrified. The video was of a young woman being murdered gruesomely.

Why would anyone send you a box of snuff films? Who could be so disturbed.

And something in your gut told you that these were real.

You were just about to turn it off, sick to your stomach, about to call the police. About to message Jesse about this awful thing.

But then a man walked into frame. Bald, tall, fitted black suit, and wearing a chrome skull mask. Something so…unsettlingly familiar.

It couldn’t be…it just couldn’t be your Jesse…

But it was and you knew it. You turned off the video, ejecting the tape and throwing it to the ground, tears streaming down your face.

All these tapes…proof of the horrific, sadistic murders that the man you loved had committed.

The front door opening and closing made you jump…

You turned and came face to face with the man.

He was about to sign a greeting as he approached you but stopped when he saw your terrified, tear stained face.

He took in your expression for glancing down at the box of tapes, noticing the one you had thrown down and broken…how did you get those tapes? Of course, he knew what they were instantly.

He was going to find out who gave you these and he was going to make sure they regretted it.

“Jesse…please tell me these aren’t real…that, that isn’t you” you pleaded with him, even if you knew the truth now. He didn’t respond, just stared at the box of tapes. “They’re-they’re all yours?…all you?” you asked.

You let out a broken sob when he nodded. There was no point lying now, you knew, it was over.

How could the man you loved do these things? He had always be so wonderful, so perfect, if you didn’t have all this evidence, you wouldn’t have believed it.

“…are you going to hurt me?” you asked and he instantly shook his head.

God, you wanted so badly to believe him but after seeing what he was capable of…you just didn’t know anymore.

“How could you do those things, Jesse?” this was the man you wanted to marry…but you didn’t know him at all. “Do you get off on this shit?” you were looking at him like you didn’t recognise him and he hated it.

He took a step towards you but you took one back. You were scared of him…and that was the last thing he ever wanted.

‘I’m not going to hurt you’ he signed. ‘…I’m sorry…’ he apologised because that’s all he could do. There was no explanation he could give you, no gift or gesture that would earn your forgiveness, there was nothing he could do to make this right. All he could do was give you a weak apologise.

“…you’re…I don’t know you, you’re not my Jesse…I…” he stepped towards you again but you took five steps back this time.

The images on those tapes flashed through your mind. Those women, the way he killed them…how could he ever do something like that and come home to you. To touch you, to love you. You were disgusted with him and yourself.

It must have been the adrenaline in your body but you finally took action, not bothering to grab your coat as you hurried past him and towards the front door.

You gasped when he caught you by the waist pulling you into his chest. You couldn’t even fight it, you just broke down, crying into his chest. He knew he just had to stop you from running out in a panic, he needed to prove that he wasn’t going to hurt you.

He held you, much preferring this to you running away.

“This is your...work?” you asked quietly. All those trips...he was actually hurting those people. How could he even hide this from you for so long?

You looked up at him just to see him nod.

“But you enjoy it...don’t you?” he paused and then nodded. The answer didn’t really matter, either way he was killing people for profit, did it really matter that much if he liked it or not?

He just kept a hold on you as you cried. Once your sobs calmed down and you seemed to have gotten over the initial panic, Jesse pulled away slightly, cupping your face in his hands.

“...I knew something wasn’t right. You never talked about your work, or how you got all this money, I knew it was something shady but...but I never expected this” you confessed. He ran his hand over your hair, of course you didn’t, you had trusted him. “I...I’m scared, Jesse. I can’t get those tapes out of my head, I’m scared of the things you’ve done but...but I can’t be scared of you. You really wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”

Jesse instantly shook his head. He’d never hurt you, he can easily promise that.

“I’m going to need time, Jesse” you told him but he already knew that, and he was willing to wait, to prove that he was still the man you thought you knew.

First Jesse would put those tapes somewhere safe, get them away from you, then the two of you can talk about this, he can try to explain himself and stop hiding things from you. He wanted you to know everything, because only then can you move on together. Once you know everything, he won’t have to hide anything and he won’t have to worry about you finding out.

It might be difficult for a while but in the end this could strengthen your relationship, it just needed some patience.

Otis Driftwood

Continued straight from Part 1.

After you left, Otis came after you, worried about you going to the police. He had grabbed your arm without thinking about it, hating the feeling he felt when you flinched and looked at him with fearful eyes. He promised you that he wasn’t going to hurt you, that you were safe, before guiding you back to the house.

By this time, both Mama and Baby were home. They both greeted you as you passed through the living room, both of them carelessly telling you that everything was going to be alright.

Otis took you to his room so that just the two of you could just talk, without the rest of the family getting involved. As soon as he released your arm, you crossed the room to put some distance between you both. 

“What do you want?” you asked, looking at him like you didn’t recognise him at all. 

“What so I want? What do you mean?” Otis asked. He didn’t want anything.

“Why not just let me go? You said you aren’t going to hurt me...so let me go” you glanced at the door behind him, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy but giving it a shot anyway. 

“I can’t...” he sighed. 

“Why?” you asked. 

“Because the last thing we need is you running to the police” he knew you already knew that. 

“I won’t. I promise” you assured him. He wanted to believe you, and for the most part he did. Maybe his reasons for keeping you around was even more selfish than saving the family’s ass, he didn’t want to lose you. “...why are you doing all of this? I...how could you hurt those people?” Otis wasn’t the most ordinary man, far from it. Maybe it was your fault for not suspecting your boyfriend was a sadistic murderer. 

“C’mon, you’ve always known something wasn’t quite right but you always overlooked it, right?” Otis asked, you hesitated but nodded. “This is what we were hiding, what you had been curious about, you just don’t like it...but you don’t need to be afraid” he assured you as he walked up to you. 

“It’s not that easy, Otis” you scoffed, shaking your head at him. 

“I know, and we’ll give you time. I just need you to trust me” Otis placed his hands on your upper arms, making you look up at him. “Do you trust me?” he asked, stroking his hands up and down your arms.

“...I do” you nodded, sighing when he pulled you into a protective embrace.

Hell, are you a little more fucked up than you thought?

#thomas hewitt x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #chromeskull x reader #otis driftwood x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher #slashers #my writing

[lunar-wandering]

so today i remembered to transfer the Shadowpeach Drabbles I wrote for @winterpower98 Cursed AU onto Ao3, and in honor of that (and simply because I wanted to) I have written a bonus part-

-

"Another cave? Seriously?"

The group of three stood at the entrance to the cave, looking in, trying to see as far as they could into the darkness.

"Must we explore every cave we stumble upon?" Macaque sighed.

"Well, it's not gonna explore itself." MK shrugged, turning to go in, only to be stopped as Wukong leapt in front of him.

"Oh no you don't." He said, "You're not going in there by yourselves. I'm coming with you this time."

"Wait, why would you-" Macaque started, confused.

"Because the last time you two went into a cave by yourselves, MK ended up with an injured leg." Wukong said, arms crossed. "I'm coming with you this time, and that's final."

"But what about-" MK started-

"It's fine. I'll be fine." Wukong said, walking past MK and Macaque, marching into the cave as though if he waited any longer he'd loose his nerve. "Let's hurry up and get this over with."

MK watched his mentors back with concern, before glancing to the side to see Macaque mirroring his expression. Said expression snapped back into a more neutral one once he noticed that MK was looking at him though.

"C'mon." Macaque said, nudging MK as he walked past him. "Let's make sure he doesn't freak out and fall down a hole or something."

-

Surprisingly enough, things didn't immediately go downhill.

Well, that is, up until-

A loose rock tumbled down from above, and Wukong, who was already very on edge, startled backwards, bumping into Macaque and knocking him over, sending the both of them rolling over a ledge and down a small cliff, the both of them ending up laying on top of each other.

MK, after doing a quick check and making sure they were both okay, stood on the edge of the ledge and smirked.

"I thought you said you were going to keep him from falling down a hole." He said, and Macaque groaned.

"I didn't think he'd knock me down with him." He said, slowly moving to sit up as Wukong hurriedly backed off of him, giving a murmured apology.

And then MK jumped down the ledge, landing with a thump and knocking loose a few more rocks, and suddenly Wukong was clinging to Macaque again.

(Macaque was suddenly grateful, that he was the one with the super hearing. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of Wukong noticing how fast his heart was racing from the close contact.)

"Sorry." MK said, wincing as he realized he'd startled his mentor. Wukong gave him a nervous smile.

"It's fine bud." He said, but Macaque could feel him shaking a little. Macaque sighed, before starting to try and peel Wukong's arms off of him.

"You can let go of me now." He said, trying to ignore the knowing look MK was giving him. "C'mon, we won't be able to move if you keep clinging to me like this-"

"It...helps though. The touch, I mean." Wukong reluctantly admitted, slowly letting go. "Though you're right, I guess we wouldn't be able to move if I'm clinging to you like-"

"Why don't you just carry him then?" MK asked, and Macaque's head shot up.

"What-" He hissed, and then nearly bit his tongue to keep himself from yelping as suddenly he was being lifted up, being held tight against Wukong. The Monkey King wordlessly held him bridal style, obviously happy for a way to maintain contact while also being able to move. His arms were tight around Macaque as though he was holding onto a teddy bear for comfort. He turned around, starting to walk as Macaque remained silent in shock, trying to process what had just happened.

He looked over Wukong's shoulder, back at MK, who gave him a smirk and a thumbs up.

Oh that little sh-

The shock finally wore off, and Macaque started struggling.

"Put me down!" He hissed, fur bristling. "I can walk by myself!"

"I know." Wukong said, but didn't even loosen his grip in the slightest.

Macaque gave up on struggling suspiciously quickly.

-

Oh, how MK wished he had a camera.

Well, actually, he did, in fact, have his phone with him, but every time he started trying to pull it out, Macaque would glare at him from over Wukong's shoulder.

MK eventually resolved to committing the image to memory in order to draw it later.

As it was though, they'd found another exit out of the cave, one that lead into a wide open meadow instead of the dark forest they'd been traveling through. Wukong immediately let out a relieved sigh, slouching a little and loosening his grip on Macaque, who almost immediately jumped out of his arms, brushing invisible dirt off his clothes.

"Glad that's over." He said, before registering the muffled giggling coming from behind him.

MK kept one hand covering his mouth to keep his giggles quiet, and at Macaque's questioning look, he subtly gestured to the monkey's tail.

Which was currently wrapped around Wukong's.

Wukong seemed to notice this fact at the exact same time Macaque did, an embarrassed flush taking over both monkeys faces, their tails letting go of each other as they looked away in different directions, avoiding eye contact.

MK almost wished that Mei (or maybe even Red Son) was here so that he could have someone to lose his mind over this with.

Pretty much anyone would do, really, he just needed someone to rant to about all this-

Wait. He could have someone to rant to, now that he thinks about it.

He looked back over at Wukong and Macaque, making sure that they were suitably distracted.

And then he took one of his hairs and blew on it.

And Porty MK popped into existence.

He still looked like a monkey, exactly like how MK currently did, but the sunglasses and coat made it obvious that it was Porty. (MK never really did understand how Porty and the others had managed to maintain their clothes and personality. To be honest he....didn't really want to think too hard about it.)

Anyways, back to business.

"Are you seeing this?" MK asked, gesturing over at where Wukong and Macaque had somehow swapped from looking away from each other, flustered, to all out glaring at each other, albeit with a certain sense of playfulness in it that would be hidden to anyone who wasn't looking for it.

"Oh, I'm seeing it alright." Porty said, before smirking a little. "But don't worry OG, y'see, I've got a plan."

And really, MK should've dispelled Porty right then and there.

But on the other hand, it'd been weeks. Weeks of dealing with the mutual pining that rivaled the number of pine trees in the forest they'd been walking through.

In the end, he'd ended up accepting Porty's plan.

-

Porty shook MK awake later that night. (MK had dispelled him as they'd walked through the meadow, only bringing him back in secret before going to bed once they'd made it back to the edge of the forest.) The clone must've been hiding in the trees or in a bush, MK thought, as there were stray leaves within his hair.

"They're asleep." Porty whispered, "C'mon, OG. Let's hurry this up."

MK crawled out of his sleeping bag, shaking some of the tiredness out of his body as he stood up.

The plan was simple.

MK would push Wukong out of the tree. Porty would catch him. (MK had, recently, discovered the Monkey King was actually a heavy sleeper. His strong nighttime vigilance from legends had literally only been the result of him not sleeping at all.) Once they'd secured Wukong, they'd carry him and lay him down near where Macaque slept, and simply let things play out from there.

MK was halfway up the tree Wukong was sleeping in when he remembered something important.

"...Are you sure you'll be able to catch him?" MK asked, and both he and Porty went silent as they remembered just how easily a clone could be destroyed.

"...Good point, OG." Porty said, "Let's swap, I'll push him out of the tree, you can catch him."

With a quick change of positions, the plan was back in motion. Porty shoved Wukong out of the tree, and MK caught him, stumbling a little under the dead weight. (And oh, was he ever glad for his super strength.) The two of them paused for a moment, waiting to see if Wukong would wake up.

When the Monkey King showed no signs of stirring, Porty jumped down from the tree, landing beside MK, and the both of them turned around, slowly walking over to where Macaque lay on the other side of the camp.

"...What are you doing?"

And oh, MK had just known he had forgotten something.

Both MK and Porty startled, MK only just barely keeping himself from dropping Wukong, as they whirled around to see-

Wukong's hair clone, lounging back on his cloud, watching them with a disapproving look.

"It was his idea!" Porty quickly said, pointing at MK, who let out an offended "Hey!", before suddenly Porty dispelled himself, disappearing in a quick flash, leaving MK alone with the Wukong hair clone.

MK nervously giggled, tightening his grip on the asleep Monkey King as the hair clone's eyes narrowed.

And then suddenly the clone smirked, amusement in it's eyes, and MK relaxed, letting out a breath of relief.

"It's about time you actually tried to push things along." The hair clone said, lounging back on its cloud, looking away. "I can't say he's gonna be happy in the morning though."

MK rolled his eyes, he'd already long since accepted he'd probably have to go through some kind of stern telling off tomorrow. With the hair clone seemingly having given it's permission, MK turned, completing his mission of bringing Wukong over to Macaque, gently laying the Monkey King on the ground beside the shadow monkey.

Macaque shifted, rolling over, and MK froze, worrying that he'd accidentally made too much noise-

But then Macaque put an arm around Wukong, pulling him closer, Wukong responding by nuzzling into the other's neck as their tails curled together.

MK made no short work of pulling out his phone and snapping a picture. (And sending said picture to both Mei and his own email. One could never have too many backups after all, Macaque was sure to try and delete it once he knew it existed).

Mission accomplished, he returned to his own sleeping bag, whispering a quiet good night to the Wukong hair clone as he walked by.

(In all honesty, MK didn't think this would get Wukong or Macaque to confess. It might push them a little closer to it, yes, but it wouldn't make it actually happen, no, there was far too much going on, too much history for one night of cuddling together to lead to a full out love confession.

Until that time, he'd be fine with just watching the chaos that unfolds.

....He was fairly sure that, come morning, their expressions would be hilarious to witness though).

#Monkie Kid #Cursed AU #Shadowpeach #my writing #Snitching Clones

[triptuckers]

Honesty - Kaz Brekker x reader

Request: oh hell yea "I saw we could send in requests which you don’t need to tell me twice bc I have some things in mind if that’s okay? I had an idea for a Kaz x female reader where he’s had feelings for you for the longest time but has never acted upon those feelings due to his trauma. Until one day something doesn’t go as planned during a Dregs job because his thoughts are with you and he lost his focus for just a moment. This is the moment he realises he has to talk to you about his crush on you but when he looks for you he notices you somewhere secluded in the arms of Jesper making out. How would he react to the fact that the girl he has had feelings for has been secretly dating his right hand? Lots of angst if that’s okay? 😬" Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader (plus some slight Jesper x reader) Summary: When Kaz finally figures out his feelings for you, and wants to tell you about it, he finds something he wasn't prepared to see Warnings:  angst oh god so. much. angst. let's see what else uhh mentions of violence, bruises, language, kaz being a lil jealous jerk Word count: 2.6K A/N: this is the one yall I got this request and HA I was so ready to write some heartbreaking angst, get ready for this one (also I wasnt sure if I had to tag this as kaz x reader of jesper x reader, but as you can see I went with kaz) TAG LIST (grishaverse): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @Janesofia7 @stairscortana add yourself to my tag lists here

Because it was a one-person kind of job and it involved picking quite a few locks, Kaz told the crows to take the night off, while he took care of it.

Given that it was very rare for Kaz to tell you all that you could have the night off, neither of you was stupid enough to question it. Instead, you all wished him good luck and took off to do all those things you normally missed out on when you were away on a job.

Everyone trusted Kaz to be able to handle a simple job on his own. You'd spend enough time with him to know he'd be alright.

And he was.

It was indeed a simple job, all Kaz had to do was sneak into a merchant's home, pick the lock of the safe in the office, steal an important contract between two merchants, and get out.

Part of him liked the solitude of wandering around a big house in the dark. But another part of him wished you'd be there with him. Kaz had shook his head to get you out of his mind, and continued to do the thing he needed to do.

After successfully completing the job and getting the contract he needed, Kaz is standing in front of a closed door, listening for any sounds in the hallway on the other side of the door.

His minds wanders off to you again.

You'd wished him good luck before he walked out the door, and you'd given him one of you signature smiles. Saints, he loved your smile.

He was sure you could fix anything, all you had to do was smile at him. You comforted him in so many ways, and you probably had no idea. Though you could figure it out if you sensed something was going on.

The clues were all right there, all you had to do was find out all the times he asked for you help were all just excuses to be able to spend more time with you.

It was stupid, really. He would invite you up to his office to go over plans for a job, even though he had figured it all out already. He'd pair the two of you on jobs. He did anything to be able to spend time with you.

A cloud slowly moves through the night sky, allowing the moon to illuminate the room. The sudden light abruptly brings Kaz back to reality.

He'd been standing in front of the door for way too long, just thinking about you. He curses himself for losing his focus. For allowing himself to get so lost in his thoughts on you.

Kaz really needs to do something about it. It's almost embarrassing how starstruck he is by you. And he really can't have you distract him on a job like that again, even if you're not in the room with him.

After listening again for sounds in the hallway, Kaz slowly pushes the door open. Upon discovering the hallway is empty, he steps out of the office and makes his way to the front door of the house.

All the way back to the Slat, he's thinking of ways on how to tell you. He's never been really good at talking about his feelings. And he wants to make sure he tells you the right thing. The last thing he wants is to stutter to try and find the words to say to you.

Eventually, he settles on just getting you alone first. He'll figure out what to say after that.

The walk to the Slat takes a while, given that the Barrel is on the other side of Ketterdam. His leg starts to ache but he ignores it, he'd endured worse.

When he finally sees the Slat in the distance, he notices there are still some lights burning. The window of your room is dark. Kaz hopes you're just sitting downstairs.

But when he enters the kitchen, it's nearly empty. Except for Nina, who is sitting there having a cup of tea before bed.

'Hey!' she says. 'How'd it go?'

In response, Kaz shows her the folded piece of paper.

Nina grins. 'Told you it would be an easy job for you.' she says.

'It was.' says Kaz. 'Have you seen Y/N?'

To his surprise, Nina starts smirking.

'Oh yeah, I've seen Y/N.' says Nina. 'She went out back a while ago.'

Kaz moves to walk to the back door but Nina speaks up again.

'Kaz, I wouldn't do that if I were you.' says Nina. 'I don't think she wants anyone to see her.'

He gives her a confused look, not noticing the playful look in Nina's eyes. He then starts to worry about you. Did something happen to you? Why didn't you want anyone to see you?

Kaz quickly walks to the door and opens it, ignoring Nina who yells at him not to do so. He abruptly freezes in the doorway.

You're indeed there, but you're not alone. A tall figure, who Kaz quickly identifies as Jesper, has you pinned to the wall of the alley.

Aside from the street lamp, it's completely dark. It's hard to tell which limps belong to you and which ones belong to Jesper.

Kaz just stands there, rooted to the spot. He can't move. He just stands there, watching the girl he fell in love with kiss another man. And it's not just any other man, it's Jesper.

The cheerful sharpshooter who had been his right hand for so long. He'd been by Kaz' side for years, joining the Dregs just shortly after you had. Jesper had managed to save Kaz a number of times with his quick shooting. And now he's standing there, kissing you.

Kaz feels sick, like he's going to throw up. Like the air got knocked out of his lungs all at once. The world is spinning. This must be some bad dream, he was asleep and this is a nightmare, it isn't real.

But then you finally seem to notice something is going on.

You pull away from Jesper and look past his arm, to see Kaz standing there with a bewildered look on his face.

'Kaz?' you say, not letting go of Jesper. 'Are you alright? Did something happen on the job?'

Jesper turns around as well now, curiously looking at Kaz.

Instead of looking at you and answering you, Kaz turns his attention to Jesper. The sick feeling in his stomach fades away and gets replaced by anger. Jesper had the guts to kiss you, his girl.

Rage takes over, the same kind of rage that had gotten him the name Dirtyhands. It flashes like a red light in front of his eyes. Without wasting another second, Kaz raises his cane and jabs one of Jesper's legs, sending him to the ground.

'What the fuck, Kaz!' you yell at him.

You rush over to Jesper's side, but Kaz roughly shoves you away with his cane, kneeling next to the taller boy. He angrily looks at him, gritting his teeth.

'You don't get to kiss her just because I can't.' says Kaz in a low voice.

Both you and Jesper look confused, having no clue wat Kaz is talking about.

'Saints, what on earth are you talking about?' says Jesper, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

'She belongs with me, and you can't kiss her because I can't- because I won't- I forbid you from it.' says Kaz.

You look at Kaz, not believing what you're hearing. You'd never seen him like this, so angry, so full of rage. And you'd never seen him use his cane to hurt his crows before.

'I don't know what the fuck you are talking about.' says Jesper. 'But I'd appreciate it if next time, you'd say something instead of using that damned cane of yours. Now if you could excuse us, we went out back to have some privacy.'

Kaz' eyes widen in anger and you watch in horror as he raises a fist and swings it down, hitting Jesper's cheek hard. Before he can strike again, you catch a hold of Kaz' arm and drag him away from Jesper.

You drag him all the way back through the door and into the kitchen. Nina looks up, probably having heard something was going on. It takes one look from you for her to hurry up the stairs, leaving you alone.

You take Kaz over to one of the tables and roughly push him into a chair.

'Stay here.' you say as you glare at him.

Kaz, a feeling of numbness washing over him, doesn't protest.

You walk out the door again and he can hear you softly talking to Jesper. A while later, you and Jesper walk into the kitchen. Kaz sees a bruise is already forming on Jesper's cheek, right where he hit him.

Jesper looks at Kaz with a mixed expression of pain and confusion on his face.

You find some ice and put it on Jesper's cheek.

'Keep that on there.' you tell him. 'Go upstairs, I'll come to your room in a second. I have to talk to Kaz first.'

Jesper nods and as soon as he's out the door, you furiously turn to Kaz.

'You're going to tell me what the fuck that was about right now. No lies, no excuses, you're going to tell me the truth. Now.' you say, dragging out a chair and sitting down in front of Kaz.

'You don't get to kiss her because I can't?' you say, repeating the words he said earlier. 'What the hell was all that about?'

Normally, Kaz knows exactly what to say. All the time. He's always got an answer ready. But whenever it's just the two of you, it's like he forgets how to talk.

'Well?' you press on. 'Say something, for Saints sake!'

When he still doesn't say something, you slam your hand down on the table, and Kaz flinches slightly. You never got this angry.

'I don't want to see Jesper kissing you because I want to do that. That should have been me.' says Kaz.

'Well you can't even take your damn gloves off, did you really think you'd be able to kiss me?' you say in a cold voice.

'With time, maybe.' says Kaz.

You sigh and softly shake your head. You've been part of the Dregs for years. You care a lot about Kaz. But the bond you have with him is just not a romantic one. Apparently, Kaz didn't think so.

'You fucking hit Jesper.' you say, your voice less loud. 'He's going to have a bruise on his cheek.'

'I was angry.' is all Kaz says.

'Clearly.' you say. 'You need to apologise to him.'

Kaz looks at you. 'Yes, Kaz, you have to say you're sorry.' you say.

When Kaz gets up, you stop him.

'Not now.' you say. 'He doesn't want to see you.'

Kaz sits back down again and starts to avoid your gaze. After sitting in silence for a while, you sigh.

'Why'd you have to do it?' you wonder out loud.

'I don't know.' says Kaz. 'Just- seeing someone else kiss you like that, it made me so angry. Like something snapped inside of me.'

'If your really feel the way you say you feel about me, why didn't you say something sooner?' you say.

'I was scared.' admits Kaz. 'That you wouldn't have me because I wouldn't be able to kiss you, to touch you.'

'Physical affection isn't the only thing in a relationship.' you say.

'I know, I know, I just-' 'Kaz.'

He finally looks at you and you can see he's hurt. But you'd rather tell him the truth than lie to protect his feelings.

'Even if you would be able to touch me, a relationship would have never worked. Not for me, at least. I'm sorry, Kaz, I'm not going to sugarcoat it.' you say. 'I love you and I care about you, but not like that. I'm in love with Jesper. We didn't tell you or the other crows because if word gets out, people will see it as one of our weaknesses. I don't want to know what they'd do to get to me, or to get to Jesper.'

You look at Kaz, scanning his face for a reaction. He's letting your words sink in, thinking about them.

'Look, Kaz, I'm sorry. I'd rather tell you the truth than lie to make you feel better. I love Jesper, and right now, I have no intention at all of breaking up with him. You're going to have to find a way to deal with that.' you say and you get up.

'Apologise to him tomorrow, I'll talk to him.' you say. 'And next time, use your words. Not your cane or your fists.'

Kaz watches as you walk toward the stairs, to get to Jesper's room. He watches you as you disappear out of his line of sight. Regret starts to set in. He shouldn't have hit Jesper. He just felt so angry when he saw you with someone else.

You love Jesper, and there's nothing he can do about it. Right now, all he could do was sit in silence, getting lost in his thoughts wondering about what could have been if he had only talked to you sooner.

Meanwhile, you have reached Jesper's room. You knock and open the door, finding Jesper sitting on the bed. He's still got the ice pressed against his cheek.

'Hey.' you say as you walk up to him. Jesper briefly smiles at you but winches immediately at the movement. You sit down next to him and carefully take his hand in yours so you could remove the ice and take a look at his cheek.

Indeed, the skin of his cheek is red, a bruise forming. You lean in to softly press a kiss to his cheek before putting the ice back in place.

'What did Kaz have to say?' says Jesper.

'Um, that he has feelings for me. And that seeing you kiss me just made him angry. That's why he hit you.' you say.

'Should've used his words instead.' mumbles Jesper.

'That's what I told him.' you say. 'But I also told him to find a way to deal with it, because I am not going to break up with you.'

At your words, Jesper smiles. 'Thanks for kissing my war injury better.' he says, making you chuckle. 'I love you.'

'Love you too, Jes.' you say. You smile and get up to go and get ready for bed.

Little did you know that Kaz was standing right outside the door. He'd stopped there on his way to his room on the top floor. The three words you spoke to Jesper stung in his chest.

He'd give anything to hear you say those words to him. But you had made it clear that wasn't going to happen. Eventually, Kaz would have to find a way to deal with it.

After all, both you and Jesper are two of his most valuable and skilled crows. He couldn't just dismiss you because you love each other.

He'd find a way to deal with it. But not tonight. For tonight, he settles for going to his room and opening a bottle of kvas instead.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#*evil laughter* #ok. pain. wow #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #grishavese #Kaz Brekker x reader #Kaz Brekker fanfiction #Kaz Brekker fanfic #Kaz Brekker fanfics #Kaz Brekker fic #Kaz Brekker fics #Kaz Brekker oneshot #Kaz Brekker oneshots #shadow and bone fics #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone oneshots #shadow and bone oneshot

[walkerwords]

“Lookin’ Out For Her” Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

GIF CREDIT: MTV/AMC

Request from Anonymous: Hello! I loved Walker Words, it was so well written! Could I request a Daryl x reader where the reader gets hurt and Daryl is the one to patch her up? Give her stitches and bandage her up and the like. If you wanted to keep going and have him take care of her and help her with everyday things while she heals that would be super sweet. Just craving some super fluffy care! Thank you!! Xoxo

Word Count: 4516

Warning: Swearing, Injury, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “Is This Love" by Corinne Bailey Rae

Note: And we are BACK. Thank you for requesting this!

---------

The Virginian sun was beating down on everyone’s necks as you worked in the lumber yard just outside of Alexandria.

Abraham had recruited you to help the Alexandrians build up their community. You didn't think it was that important but you said "yes" nonetheless. You had been travelling with your group for a while now. Meeting them on the road, Carl, Rick’s son, had saved you from a Walker that had pinned you to the ground. According to the young man, they had just lost their farm to a horde and were looking for a new place to stay. 

It was then that you noticed his pregnant mother and wanted to help. 

You hadn’t wanted to be near other people since the beginning of the end, but you had a good feeling about the Grimes family and their people. You were with them when Rick discovered the prison and you hadn’t looked back.

While you were close with Rick, Carl, Michonne, Rosita, and others, Daryl was someone that you had connected with unexpectedly. Daryl Dixon was an enigma, but one you loved to try and figure out. He was someone who you  never would have bonded with if it hadn’t been for the end of the world, but everyday you were grateful for him and the way he always seemed to be looking out for you. 

There was something unspoken between the two of you and any time that you were apart, you were constantly looking over you shoulder in hopes of spotting the archer. Just as you were now as you worked  near Abraham, cutting into the timber that would help reinforce the walls of your new home. 

“Who would’ve thought?” Ford said as he called out to you. 

“What’s that, Red?” you called back, looking at him through the bright rays of sun that shone down on you. 

“You,” Abraham said. “Who would’ve thought you’d be into all of this?”

“Construction?” you asked, raising your brows. 

“No,” he said with a shit-eating grin, “helping.” Your mouth opened in shock at his jab, not finding it particularly funny. 

“Hilarious,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Abraham just began laughing, enjoying himself. You began to ignore him as you tried to hide your own smile when the sound of growls reached your ears. “Fantastic,” you said with a sigh as you leaned over to pick up your weapon, an extra-sharp machete that Rick had given you after the events of Terminus. 

The Walkers came from the South in a group, all meandering towards the site. “Stay sharp!” Ford yelled as he grabbed a knife in one hand and a hammer in the other. While you had your guns, nobody wanted to use ammo if they didn’t have to. The Alexandrians were worried, shuffling back as the Walkers approached, but you and Abraham moved to the front.

You began taking them down quickly with a few slashes of your blade. Two larger Walkers backed you up until your back hit a pile of stacked lumber. You took out the first, but the second moved too fast, falling into you. You fell back, hitting your head on the edge of the wood as you went down. The Walker landed on your arm, pressing it into the metal stake keeping the wood tied together. Groaning out in pain, you shoved your blade into the side of the Walker’s head and shoved it off with disgust. 

“(Y/N)!” Abraham yelled as he ran towards you. He took out the last Walker with a swing of his hammer before arriving at your side. “Ya alright, girl?”

“Fine,” you grunted, taking the hand Abraham stretched out for you to grab. Abraham pulled you to your feet and you ignored the pounding behind your eyes as you brushed sawdust off your jeans.

“Are you sure that you are okay?” he asked, slipping into his sergeant mode. 

“Abe, I am alright,” you said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “Few bumps and bruises ain’t gonna keep me down.”

“Well, just head back alright? We’re gonna be headin’ inside any minute now,” he ordered. 

“I can help clean up,” you said, but he was shaking his head. 

“(Y/N), go,” he said and with a sigh, you saluted the man, picked up your machete, and turned back towards Alexandria.

-------

Arriving back home, you tried to keep steady on your feet, but it was becoming more difficult with each step. 

Nodding to Rick and Glenn who were speaking to Spencer, you continued on towards the house that you were sharing with the Grimes, Michonne, and Daryl. In the distance, you could see Judith being carried around by an amused Tara who swung her around on her hip, trying to make the little girl laugh. 

The ache in your head was the only thing distracting you from the searing pain in your arm. You could also feel thick blood starting to saturate the sleeve of your shirt, but you did your best to ignore it. If you could manage to get home and up to the bathroom unseen, everything would work out. The last thing you needed was for one of your friends to clock your injuries. 

Climbing up the steps to the house, you relaxed as it sounded empty. Dropping the façade, you let the pain show on your face for just a second, but a second was all it took for him to notice. 

“What’s wrong with ya?” Daryl said from a quiet spot on the porch. Still not used to how silent the man could be, you jumped out of your skin at his deep voice. 

“Fucking hell, Daryl!” you exclaimed, grabbing at your chest with your bad arm which only made you wince further. “Way to scare the hell out of me.” Daryl, who had been cleaning his bow, got to his feet and approached you, his brows drawn together. 

“Are ya gonna answer my question?” he asked, looking you over. Suddenly feeling somewhat shy, you took a step back from him, turning so your bad arm was further out of sight. 

“Walkers came up on us at the lumber spot,” you explained. “Everyone’s fine, but I got knocked down. It’s nothing.” 

“Is it also nothin’ that you can’t keep to stand still without staggerin’?” Daryl noticed, gesturing down at your feet. Glancing down, you saw a dizzying pattern of dirty bootprints as if you had horribly failed at a field sobriety test after a night out. 

“I…” you tried as the pain increased. “I may have hit my head on the way down.” 

“Mmhmm. Come on,” Daryl said as he took your arm to keep you steady and led you into the house.

“I can walk, Daryl,” you complained. 

“Yeah, into a wall maybe,” he said with a scoff. You frowned, but didn’t pull away as he took you to the room that he had claimed on the first level. 

Daryl’s room was quite neat, but considering none of you had many belongings, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. Clothes were strewn across a single chair in the corner while his leather jacket was thrown on the unmade bed. Bolts for his bow, old and new, were on a table in front of the window, and tools for the bike Aaron had given him were tossed on top of the dresser.

It was very…Daryl.

“Sit,” he ordered, helping you to the edge of the mattress. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Daryl mirrored the motion before leaving the room quickly. You sat there awkwardly as Daryl went to fetch the medical kit. Being in his room alone, you felt as if you were in high school and in a boy’s room for the first time.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you chastised yourself. This was Daryl, your friend, your partner when it came to runs or watch. However this was also Daryl, the man that had bewitched you body and soul. “Easy there, Darcy,” you said, shaking your head, trying to dislodge your Austen fantasy. 

“What?” Daryl asked as he returned with the supplies. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, averting your eyes. Daryl just hummed a response before sitting next to you and then gesturing for you to remove the flannel shirt you wore over your tank top. Carefully, you pulled down the sleeve and then slipped the shirt off your shoulder, the blood sticking to the fabric. The fresh wound snagged on the threads, causing you to hiss out in pain, but eventually you got it off. “Damn,” you swore, finally getting a look at the cut from the stake. 

“Not exactly shallow,” Daryl said, examining the wound. “It’s gonna leave a scar.”

“What else is new?” you said as a ringing entered your ears. You rubbed at one of them, trying to dislodge the annoying sound. 

“That’s what I thought,” Daryl said. 

“What?” you asked as Daryl began wiping away the extra blood with a towel. 

“Ears ringin’, right?” 

“Maybe…” you said, very aware of how his fingers moved across your blood-speckled skin. 

“Probably a concussion. The dizziness, ringin’, headache that I know ya got… irritability,” he said with a look and you swatted at him. “All shit ya get from a concussion.” You sighed deeply, not liking how the day was going. The last thing you needed was to be benched with your family in a new environment. You weren’t the best fighter, but you were damn good at surviving and you had to stay sharp. 

Daryl finished removing the blood before grabbing the needle and thread. Looking away, you stared at your boots as he tugged your skin back together. “Needles make ya sick?” he said with amusement in his voice. 

“No, but watching you stitch my flesh back together ain’t a walk in the park,” you said and then Daryl had an even softer touch.

“Almost done,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb above the wound, trying to soothe you and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working. “If you don’t tell people when you’re hurt, how are we supposed to help ya?” he asked. 

“It’s not your job,” you said, not really thinking it through. 

“Like hell it’s not,” Daryl shot back, but his tone remained calm. “We look out for each other, (Y/N). That’s what we do.” 

“I know,” you said, letting out another deep breath. “M’sorry.” Daryl tied off the last stitch and cut it before reaching for the bandage. You looked back just as he smoothed the sterile gauze over your arm, pressing it down firmly. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Daryl didn’t respond. Instead, he ran his hand down your arm until it got to your hand. Slipping his fingers into yours, he intertwined your hands together, rubbing his calloused fingers against your own. 

You sat like that for a while, just listening to each other breathe, feeling the pressure of his hands in yours. This happened occasionally and you weren’t exactly sure what it meant. Daryl would sit next to you, press his leg into yours or even reach down and take your hand.

Back at the prison, he would just enter your cell and sit next to you. Even on the road, sometimes, he’d take your hand as you walked, letting it swing between the two of you. Daryl never  spoke, but he always made sure to add some pressure, as if letting you know that he was there. A part of you never wanted to look into it further. You all had seen some horrible things and you knew everyone needed to feel grounded. 

Daryl gravitated towards you to feel...something, you just weren’t sure what that was yet. 

“You know,” you whispered, leaning into him a bit, “there is a doctor here.” Daryl’s grip tightened then, almost as if he was afraid you were about to run. Looking up at you, his eyes were blue fire as he stared into your own. 

“And you ain’t goin’ anywhere near that son of a bitch,” Daryl said. “He ain’t layin’ a single hand on ya, not after what I know what he does to that wife of his.” 

“Daryl,” you said, trying to keep him calm, “Pete’s not gonna hurt me.” 

“I know he’s not,” he said. “Because I’d kill him if he did, I don’t care who the hell he is.”

“Is that you lookin’ out for me?” you asked, reaching up with your other hand to brush a strand of hair from his eye. 

“Just don’t go to him, (Y/N),” Daryl said. “Alright?” If he was one to say “please”, you figured he was about to.

“I could have a concussion, remember?” you pointed out, still feeling the blooming migraine. 

“You’re gonna be alright,” he said. “Herschel told me how to handle that. You’re gonna stay here with me tonight. I gotta keep wakin’ ya up so you don’t end up in a damn coma.” 

“Is that the only reason?” you asked, testing the waters. Daryl looked at you with a raised brow. 

“It’s the one I’m giving ya for now,” Daryl said. 

“Just for now?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said with a quick jut of his chin. You nodded and then leaned against him, feeling the pain echoing through your body. Daryl looped his other arm around your shoulder as you began to drift off. “I got ya, (Y/N),” he whispered as fatigue finally took over and you slumped into the man at your side.

-------

Daryl kept his word and made sure that he woke you up throughout the night. 

Any time his hand shook your shoulder, pulling you from your dreamless sleep, you awoke to his gentle face aglow by the camping lantern. He’d ask your pain level and make you drink water.

Afterwards, Daryl would get you to lay back down, smooth his hand over the side of your head, and you would fall right back to sleep. When he woke you up for the third time, you noticed a makeshift ashtray sitting on the window sill of the open window, the smoke filtering out into the night. Having known Daryl for a while, you knew what it looked like when he was taking watch. 

“Get some sleep,” you whispered as you rolled over to face him as he walked back towards his perch. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “I got hours yesterday.”

“Liar,” you mumbled, already fading. The last thing you saw before you fell asleep again was Daryl leaning back against the window frame, his eyes on you as he flicked his cigarette in his fingers. 

In the morning, your head felt a bit better, but your arm was killing you. Hissing in pain, you opened your eyes and rolled onto your back. Shadows danced on the ceiling from the sunrise and the breeze that floated through Alexandria. 

“Mornin’,” Daryl said from his spot by the window.

“Were you there all night?” you asked, sitting up. 

“Nah, took care of Judith a couple of times,” he said with a shrug. 

“Daryl…” you sighed, shaking your head. 

“It’s nothin’,” he said, waving you off. Getting up, he walked over to where you were and sat down next to you. From his pocket he pulled a pen light of all things. 

“Where did you find that?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Carl grabbed it from asshole’s office,” Daryl explained as he clicked it on and raised it before your eyes. 

“Do you even know what you’re doin’?” you asked. 

“Just follow the light,” he said with a huff and so you did. Daryl checked out your pupils to make sure neither was blown and then stowed the light away. “Arm,” he ordered, grabbing the medical kit from the side table. Moving your arm felt like moving a ton of bricks. Then pain was bad from the wound, but your muscles felt as if needles had been going in them for hours. “Swelling went down a bit,” Daryl said as he gently prodded the skin. “Maybe we can find some meds for the inflammation. I’ll see what we got here.”

“Who would’ve thought?” you said as he changed the bandage on your arm. 

“What?”

“Doctor Dixon,” you mused with a grin. Daryl rolled his eyes, scoffing. 

“Shut up,” he said, but you could tell he found it funny. 

“Guess I’m banned from helping with the lumber for a bit,” you said with a sigh. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Ford’s orders.” 

“Well, I ain’t about to sit here all day and do nothin’,” you said as he finished his task. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood up, testing your balance. When you were satisfied enough with the results, you went in search of your own room, desperate for a change of clothes. 

“Don’t fall!” Daryl called as you exited the room. You sent him a rude gesture over your shoulder, making him laugh. After only tripping twice, you managed to get to your room, grab some new clothes, and hit the shower. It was a hassle keeping your arm dry under the constant spray of water, but you managed well-enough. 

Once you were dressed and feeling somewhat human again, you headed back down stairs to only be met with Daryl. “You need to take it easy,” he said. 

“I’m not going to go hunting Walkers, Daryl,” you said, carefully pulling on your boots. “Maybe Olivia or Aaron could use some help. I know Gabriel has been wanting to get the church back together.”

“Great, let’s go,” he said, leaning against the front door. 

“You taggin’ along?” you asked, pulling yourself up. 

“I gotta make sure ya don’t collapse and take someone down with ya,” he said. With a quick laugh, you placed your knife in its sheath and approached him. Grabbing him by the shoulders, you moved him out of the way. 

“Mmhmm,” you said with a smirk, “well, come on then, Doc,” you teased. 

“Oh my god…” he said, but followed you nonetheless. 

-----

For most of the day, Daryl was by your side. 

No matter what you were doing, he was there. Once you had convinced Gabriel to let you help him, he had you moving some things from Scott’s garage and into the church. Daryl, however, wasn’t on board with all the physical activity you were doing. So, instead of letting you carry the heavy boxes, he was there taking the weight himself. 

Daryl helped you carry anything over a few pounds and if you were being honest with yourself, you were rather enjoying him being so protective. He continued to help you the entire time you were doing errands for the priest and even when Deanna asked you to help move some files from the basement for Maggie to review, Daryl was there. 

He never once complained, but he was talking more than usual. As you completed the tasks for the day, Daryl was asking you questions about your life before the Apocalypse. He wanted to know where you grew up, if you had any siblings, and even what your parents were like. You knew a lot about his upbringing, but you never really spoke about your own. Still, with every question, you answered him honestly and it actually felt nice to talk about your family. 

When he asked about what those first few months after the firebombs dropped on the cities were like, you began to grow quieter. As with everyone you had met in the new world, you had lost people from the first day the Dead began to rise and it hadn’t stopped. You told Daryl about the first people you had met on the road, the ones who had been slaughtered by a group of the Dead as you were escaping the city. It was then that you had decided to take on the world alone if possible. 

That is until the fateful day in which you met Carl Grimes. 

When Daryl asked about any fears you had, you began to laugh. “What’s so damn funny?” he asked as you sat next to him in Aaron’s garage as he worked on the bike. He didn’t want to let you out of his sight and you knew he needed to get some grease on his hands before the day was over. 

“I guess I just never thought we would ever have to talk about our fears again, ya know? Aren’t we all scared of the same thing these days? The Dead, assholes with guns...each other.” 

“Each other?” Daryl echoed. “What do ya mean by that?”

“How well do we really know each other? Eugene lied to us for weeks, Tara was with the Governor, and even the people here are unknowns. I don’t know, Daryl, I guess if I had to talk about any fears it’d be that I’m scared that I don’t know how to trust anyone anymore.”

“That ain’t a bad thing,” Daryl said. “Best to always be on alert, that way ya don’t end up dead or worse.”

“It’s exhausting,” you admitted, rubbing at your temples. 

“Pain?” Daryl asked as soon as he noticed. 

“I’m fine,” you said. 

“(Y/N),” he said, wiping the grease from his hands and crouching down in front of you, gently lifting your chin to look in your eyes. “Tell me.”

“About a seven,” you admitted. 

“It was lower a few hours ago,” he said with a frown. 

“Guess I’ve been working harder than I thought,” you said, resting your head in his hand. Daryl reached back and grabbed his canteen. 

“Drink,” he ordered and you did, sipping the water slowly. Reaching out, he smoothed a hand over your hair gently. “Better?” he asked. 

“Bit,” you admitted. Daryl withdrew his hand then and left you to finish the water, trying to get your hydration back to where it should be. Leaning back against the workbench, you watched as he worked, his shoulders tense as he pulled at gears or unscrewed bolts.

Daryl was always in his element when he worked on mechanics. You remembered the first time you saw him working on one of the cars at the prison. He had seemed so absorbed in everything he was doing, happy to be providing for his new family. 

You knew enough about cars to get by, but you could always learn more and so you observed him whenever you could. Watching Daryl rebuild cars or work on Merle’s bike was one of the main reasons you began to grow closer to each other. 

He looked up from his work then, feeling your eyes on him and he gave you a crooked grin, one that was rare, but one you loved so much.

-----

As day turned to night, Daryl helped you get home. 

The dizziness was back in waves and so he had you by the arm as you walked through the streets of Alexandria. He had tried to carry you, but after refusing over and over, he had relented to just holding you up, keeping a firm grip on you. 

As soon as you entered the house, Michonne and Rick were in the kitchen, making food for the house. “Long day?” Rick asked as you moved past him. 

“Too long,” you said, slumped against Daryl.

“Come on,” Daryl said, “you’re about to crash and burn.” You waved at Rick and Michonne as Daryl all but dragged you back to his room. As soon as you saw the bed, you nearly wept in relief. Daryl had been right, you should have stayed home. “Hungry?” he asked. 

“No,” you said as you sat down. Daryl kneeled down and began to unlace your boots as you held your bruised arm to your chest, trying to relieve some of the pain. “I should get hurt more often if this is the kind of treatment Daryl Dixon gives me,” you said with a lazy smile. Daryl looked at you with an exhausted look. 

“Let’s not, alright?” he said as he finished with your boots. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said as you flopped back onto the bed. Daryl got up and joined you, sitting next to you. With your good arm, you reached up and tugged him down beside you, his body lying alongside yours. Turning your head to look at him, he was already looking at you through messy strands of hair. 

Slowly, you lifted up your hand and offered it to him. Daryl took it in his own and laced your fingers together, his eyes never leaving yours. “Your hands are warm,” you said in the low light of the room, your voice barely above a whisper as if it would crack the tension. 

“Yours are cold,” he said back, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “I should check your arm,” he said, but you shook your head. 

“It can wait,” you whispered, looking into those blue eyes of his as he pinned you to the planet with his gaze. “Thank you, for lookin’ out for me today,” you said, tightening your hold on his hand. 

“Always,” he said. “I’m always gonna be there for ya.” You gave him a small smile then as a shiver took over your body. “Cold?” he asked, his brow furrowing. 

“Bit,” you said with a shrug. Daryl reached behind him and grabbed one of the blankets and draped it over you, careful not to let go of your hand the entire time. His other arm was pressed to your side as he tried to adjust the blanket, but it lingered, adding pressure to your body. “Stay,” you whispered to him. 

“This is my room,” he said, looking down at you. 

“Smartass,” you said, trying not to break his gaze. 

“I ain’t going anywhere,” he said as he sat up a bit higher and then pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was gentle, but warm, his lips leaving a spot of heat on your skin. When he pulled back, you locked eyes with him again before slipping your hand out of his and reaching up to drag your fingers through his hair. Getting to his neck, you pulled him down to you and he met you there, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. His lips were heavy on yours and he tasted exactly as you had imagined. 

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “Your head needs to heal,” he whispered, not wanting to move any further away from you. 

“My mind has never been more clear,” you said, grabbing his face again. “Kiss me, Doc,” you said and with a chuckle, he did.

Daryl lay with you, kissing you, holding you, and never once leaving your side as you finally succumbed to sleep, your body desperately needing to heal. Looking down at you in the low light of the lantern, he promised that would never let you go, not now, not ever. 

He had asked you about your fears, but you hadn’t asked him about his. In truth, he was only scared of one thing and that was losing you.

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