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ggukvnly · 7 days ago

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Silent Walls║Chapter 1

The late afternoon sun dipped low behind the skyline of Seoul, spilling warm golden light across the pavement and casting long shadows from the apartment buildings lined up in organized, glassy perfection. Your taxi pulled up to a quiet, modern complex in the heart of Mapo District — a place buzzing with life but tucked far enough from the chaos to feel like its own little world.

You pressed your forehead lightly to the window as the car rolled to a stop, staring at the new place you were about to call home. Four floors, neat balconies, minimalist design. A small garden wrapped around the front, where a few azaleas still bloomed despite the approaching shift of seasons.

You exhaled a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"Here we are, miss," the driver said, hopping out to help you unload.

"Thank you," you replied, voice a little breathy as nerves and excitement tangled in your chest.

The crisp city air greeted you with the scent of freshly baked pastries from the café across the street, mixed with autumn's fading warmth. As you glanced up at the windows, a thrill ran down your spine. This wasn't just a new city. It wasn't just a job.

It was your new life.

Stepping inside, you took a slow turn around your new apartment. It was small but bright, a neat rectangle of clean white walls and warm wood floors. The kitchen sat to one side, compact but inviting — a window above the sink that caught the last golden light, where you imagined placing pots of fresh herbs someday. A tiny dining nook stood by the living room window, just enough for a small table and two chairs.

The bathroom was simple but clean, with soft cream tiles that made it feel warm instead of cold. And your bedroom — the smallest room — had a cozy window seat where you pictured yourself curled up with a book on rainy days.

You pressed your palm to the cool wood of the kitchen counter, feeling a sudden rush of comfort.

Busan had been your home for twenty-five years. The sea breeze that ruffled your hair, your mother's laugh in the kitchen as you baked together, the streets you walked every day — all memories now packed away, folded gently into your heart as you stepped into this fresh space.

Your phone buzzed softly.

Mom <3: Are you there? Did you eat?

You smiled, fingers sliding to your bag to reply.

You: Just moved in! The apartment's cozy. I'll eat soon, don't worry 💗

Mom <3: We're proud of you. Busan already feels a little emptier without you.

You blinked back a smile and let the warmth of her words settle around you.

⸻

You opened the first box — kitchenware, neatly wrapped in newspaper. You set out a few plates and a ceramic bowl your mother had given you, already imagining the smell of baking bread filling this space one day. Cooking was your passion, a language you and your mom spoke fluently together, a string tying you back to those quiet afternoons in your childhood home.

Next, you turned to your art supplies. A smaller box held your leather-bound journal, its cover worn soft from years of handling. You slid it gently onto the windowsill, where the light pooled, feeling a quiet pride swell in your chest.

Reaching deeper, your fingers brushed a small photo frame. You lifted it, blinking softly at the image inside — you and Jae, caught in a casual moment beneath a streetlamp, his smile easy, your laughter frozen in time. You remembered how those months had felt — gentle, kind, uncomplicated.

No heavy feelings. Just a simple, quiet memory.

You set the frame next to your journal, letting that piece of your past settle into this new chapter.

In another box, you found a small plush toy — a soft, threadbare bear your grandmother had given you years ago. You traced its worn stitches with your finger and set it carefully on your bed. A small comfort, a reminder of love stretching across the miles.

Hours passed without you noticing.

Night slipped quietly in while you unpacked the last of your essentials.

Finally, you stepped into the bathroom and let the warm water wash over you, shaking off the day's exhaustion. Standing before the mirror, you looked yourself over — your dark hair pulled back, soft eyes, a gentle determination shining in your reflection. You weren't a model or a star, but you were beautiful in your own way. And for the first time in a long while, you felt ready.

Back in your room, you slipped into a soft sweater and jeans. You unwrapped a small box your mom had sent — cookies and a note reminding you to eat well. The familiar sweetness was grounding, a small piece of home wrapped in every bite.

You finished your skincare, the routine soothing in its simplicity. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you gazed out the window at the city lights blinking softly in the dark.

Your things weren't fully unpacked. You still had a couple of boxes waiting for the moving service to deliver, but the essentials were in place. You had two days before your first day at Ethereal — a fresh start, a new life.

Now, you thought about greeting the neighbors. It would be polite to introduce yourself soon, but the night had already deepened around the city. Tomorrow would be better — you'd meet them then.

⸻

You took a deep breath, nervously adjusting the plastic container in your hands — homemade Busan-style eomuk-tang your mother had lovingly packed and shipped ahead, just so you'd have something warm to share. It was a small gesture of courtesy — greeting neighbors on your first day — but the hour had grown too late yesterday. Now, with sunlight pouring softly over the corridor and a clean, breezy Sunday mood hanging in the air, it felt just right.

You walked to the door on your right, the one with a tiny potted cactus sitting beside the shoe rack. With one more deep breath, you knocked.

The door opened moments later, revealing a woman with shoulder-length black hair curled at the ends, eyes shaped like half-moons, and a warm, curious smile. She wore a loose graphic t-shirt tucked into wide-leg jeans and held a half-eaten popsicle in one hand.

"Hi!" she blinked. "You must be the new neighbor."

You nodded, smiling. "Yeah! I just moved in yesterday. I brought this—some eomuk-tang. It's a Busan thing, kind of a peace offering."

"Ooh," her eyes widened. "I love Busan food. Thank you! Come in, come in."

You stepped inside. Her apartment felt like a mirror version of yours but somehow already lived-in. A record player spun quietly in the corner, mismatched cushions littered the couch, and sunlight streaked across stacks of design magazines on the table.

"I'm Nari, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Nari. I'm Y/N."

"So what brings you to this crazy city?" she asked, handing you a bottle of peach soda from her fridge and plopping onto the couch.

You shrugged, grinning. "Got a job offer at a fashion company—Ethereal. I start Monday."

Nari's eyes lit up like she'd just heard you say you were secretly royalty. "No way. Shut up. I work there too!"

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I'm a senior designer."

"No way." You laughed, already feeling the ice melt between you.

"Welcome to the circus," she grinned. "Ethereal's chaotic but creative as hell. It's one of the fastest-growing indie fashion labels in Seoul — edgy, clean lines, but full of personality. You'll fit right in."

You exchanged numbers in between sips of soda, and somehow, the conversation just... flowed.

Nari, it turned out, had been living in Seoul for nearly seven years. Originally from Jeju, she'd moved here after college and had been at Ethereal for almost three years. You were surprised to learn that she wasn't much older — maybe just by a year or two — and yet she had the relaxed confidence of someone who knew the city like the back of her hand.

She told you which coffee shop had the best honeycomb lattes, which convenience store carried the good ramen, and how to avoid the morning rush on the metro. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this at ease with someone so quickly.

You paused between the laughs, setting your soda down on her coffee table. "So... what about the neighbor on the other side?

Nari's eyes lit up with unmistakable mischief.

"Oh, him?"

⸻

After parting ways with Nari — cheeks sore from laughing and warmth blooming from the unexpected bond — you remembered one last neighborly duty.

As you stepped toward the next door, her words played back in your head:

"Oh, him?"

She had smirked, already unwrapping a chocolate bar. "Jeon Jungkook. He's a hot meal package."

You choked on your drink. "What?"

Architect. Does his own thing. Some crazy high-end firm downtown. Dead serious. Ridiculously hot. Like, bad-boy architect from a drama kind of hot. But..." she leaned in with a smirk, "he's kind of mysterious. Doesn't talk much. He moved in about seven months ago. I tried making small talk once, but he keeps it polite and distant."

You'd both laughed then, but now... now that laugh was starting to dry out in your throat.

Because here you were.

In front of the very door Nari had pointed at with that teasing look in her eyes.

With a container of warm Busan-style eomuk-tang in your hands and a polite smile you were trying to hold in place.

You knocked.

Once. Twice.

The lock clicked. The door opened.

And the world. Just. Tilted.

You'd seen attractive people before — Seoul was full of them.

But this man?

Holy shit!

He was on a whole different plane of existence.

He stood tall, body built like a secret weapon. Broad shoulders that narrowed down to a trim, sculpted waist. His black t-shirt clung to every inch of him like it wanted to be there — stretched tight across his chest and abs, outlining muscle so sharp it looked unreal. Those abs? Rock-solid and defined beneath the fabric, like they'd been carved, not grown. Every breath he took made the shirt shift slightly, teasing the strength underneath.

His arms were a masterpiece of power and ink — veins tracing over taut skin, the muscle lean and purposeful. Not bulky, but strong in the way that made you wonder what it would feel like to be held. Tattoos curled around his arms in black and gray, an entire story etched into him in silence. The kind of art you'd want to trace with your fingertips — slowly.

His skin glowed with that signature honey-gold tone, smooth and warm, making everything he wore look expensive. His hair was a mess of dark waves, tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed — and somehow looked better for it. Effortless. Infuriating. Perfect.

And then there was his face — and God, his face. Jawline sharp enough to cut glass, cheekbones high and clean, lips full and plush, naturally parted just enough to make your mind go places it shouldn't. His nose was strong, perfectly sculpted — a little rough around the edges, just like him.

But his eyes. His eyes were a whole other danger. Deep, dark, heavy-lidded.

They didn't just see you. They searched you. Quiet. Intense. Unreadable.

Jeon Jungkook wasn't just hot. He was devastating. The kind of beautiful that made your lungs forget how to work, and your brain forget every reason why you shouldn't be staring.

You forgot how to breathe.

This was not fair.

You'd come here to say hi, not to be annihilated by a jawline.

Still — somehow — you held up the container in your shaking hands and forced out a smile. "Hi. Um. Sorry to bother you. I just moved in next door and thought I'd say hello. I brought this—eomuk-tang. It's, um, a Busan thing."

His gaze didn't waver. He looked at the container, then back at you. His face stayed unreadable, as if he were running some internal calculation. Then, wordlessly, he reached out and took it from your hands.

"...Thanks," he said. Deep voice. Monotone. No warmth. Just... that low, husky register that hit somewhere behind your ribs.

You cleared your throat, suddenly all too aware of your own heartbeat.

"I'm Y/N. By the way."

He nodded once. "Jungkook."

Short. Cool. No follow-up. No "Nice to meet you," no "Welcome to the building." Just his name — a full stop in one word.

You awkwardly smiled. "Okay. Well... enjoy the soup. I'll, uh, let you get back to it."

He nodded again.

And just like that, he stepped back.

The door shut gently.

And you were left standing in the hallway, holding absolutely nothing except the haunting image of the most attractive man you'd ever seen.

You didn't even like black t-shirts.

But now you understood why Nari looked like she was always seconds away from sin when she talked about him.

Holy hell.

You exhaled slowly, turned back toward your apartment, and whispered to yourself:

"...Yeah. She wasn't kidding."

⸻

Jungkook rarely let himself unravel, but tonight was different. It was Saturday. No work the next day. No commitments. Just the chasm of memories he could no longer escape.

The music in the club was deafening, the bass thudding like a heartbeat on overdrive. People moved like shadows around him, laughing, drinking, flirting. And there he was—half-drunk, half-numb, all broken.

Taehyung had noticed the signs first, nudging Jimin with a knowing glance. Jungkook's hand hadn't left his glass since they got here. Drink after drink, like he was trying to drown something so deeply buried, even the alcohol would hesitate to touch it.

"You okay, man?" Taehyung leaned in, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Jungkook barely registered the touch. His eyes were distant, jaw clenched. "Yeah. Just needed this."

He didn't say why. He never did. But they knew.

Her laugh.

That laugh.

It rang in his ears like a ghost, soft and bright, nestled somewhere in the sheets of his memory. She was lying on her stomach, chin resting on her folded arms, bare shoulders peeking out from the duvet. Sunlight had painted her skin gold, and her eyes sparkled when she looked at him.

"So... five years from now, where do you see us?" she asked, playfully.

Jungkook chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Here. Same bed. Same sunlight. Just... more wrinkles maybe."

She giggled. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips—slow and tender. "And maybe a dog?" he added against her mouth. "You love dogs."

She kissed him like every second without him had been unbearable, like she was trying to pour every unspoken word into the space between their lips. He responded just as fiercely, his hands gentle but firm, anchoring her to him like she was the only thing that made sense in the chaos of the world. When she finally pulled back, breathless, her forehead resting against his, she whispered it like a vow.

"I love you so much, Kook. I can't even picture my life without you in it."

His eyes stayed on hers, unwavering, honest. He brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles, slow — one by one, like they were sacred.

"You mean more to me than anything. You're the love of my life."

Then he kissed her again — deeper, fiercer. Like she was a promise he'd never dare to break.

But that moment shattered like glass behind his eyes.

Back in the club, his throat burned—not from the liquor, but from the ache that swelled with that memory. He gripped the rim of his glass tighter, knuckles white.

More shots. More silence. More distance.

⸻

Taehyung and Jimin had to practically drag him back home. He didn't argue. He didn't speak. His eyes were hollow.

"Dude, sleep it off," Jimin muttered, helping him to his bed. "It's Sunday tomorrow. You'll be fine."

Jungkook didn't respond. He just stared at the ceiling, replaying the past over and over until his vision blurred and sleep dragged him under.

Jungkook's POV

The sunlight slicing through the curtains wasn't gentle. It was harsh—too damn sharp—driving straight through my skull like a blade. I groaned, dragging the pillow over my face, but it didn't help. My head was splitting open.

"Damn it," I muttered, voice hoarse. I hated this. The weakness. The vulnerability. I never let myself fall this far unless something inside me had already cracked.

At least it was Sunday.

If it were Monday, I wouldn't have touched a single drop. I had rules. Boundaries. Last night crossed them.

I sat up, scrubbing a hand over my face, then through my hair. Everything ached. I forced my legs over the edge of the bed and pushed myself up, dragging my feet toward the bathroom.

Cold water. I needed cold water.

I splashed it over my face, again and again, until I could open my eyes without wincing. My reflection looked like shit—eyes heavy, jaw tense, expression blank.

I changed into my gym gear by noon. Black tank. Joggers. Didn't matter that my body felt like concrete—I needed to move. To train. That discipline ran deeper than the ache.

Always did.

The gym was quieter than usual. A few familiar faces. No one I cared to acknowledge. I didn't come here for that. I came to forget.

Every rep burned. Every second on the treadmill felt like punishment. I wanted it to hurt. Needed it. My muscles screamed, lungs tightened, sweat poured—but I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

Push harder. Breathe. Don't think. Forget.

When I finally walked out into the apartment , my body was wrecked—but my mind... quieter. Not better. Just silent. And silence was all I could ask for lately. I stripped the soaked clothes off and hit the shower. Let the water scald. Let it sting. Maybe it would burn the rest of her out of me.

It didn't.

It never did.

I got out, towel-dried just enough, and pulled on a black T-shirt & grey sweatpants .

And then—

Knock. Knock.

Once. Twice.

The lock clicked, and I opened it.

Standing there was a woman—probably the new neighbor the building manager had mentioned earlier.

She froze the moment she saw me. That brief hesitation—eyes quickly scanning me up and down—was hardly unusual. Women did that all the time. I knew I was attractive; it wasn't something I ever denied. They noticed, they watched, they tried to get my attention. It happened constantly. So her reaction wasn't surprising.

Her hair was dark, falling softly around her face. She wore a simple, neat sweater—nothing flashy, but it suited her.

In that moment, I registered that she was attractive. Pretty, even. Maybe more so than most. But it was just a glance. Nothing more.

"Hi. Um. Sorry to bother you. I just moved in next door and thought I'd say hello. I brought this—eomuk-tang. It's, um, a Busan thing."

I took the container from her hands.

"...Thanks," I said, my voice low and flat.

She cleared her throat, clearly nervous.

"I'm Y/N. By the way."

I nodded once.

"Jungkook."

Short. Direct. No extra words.

She gave a small, awkward smile.

"Okay. Well... enjoy the soup. I'll, uh, let you get back to it."

I stepped back, closing the door gently behind her.

She left quietly, and I stood there for a moment before turning away.

I placed it on the kitchen counter.

My phone buzzed. Jimin.

You alive, man?

Another one popped up. Taehyung.

Come out. We're not taking no for an answer.

I stared at the screen for a second before typing back.

Fine.

The three of us ended up at the bowling alley down by the river. Our usual spot when things got too loud in our heads. Laughed more than I expected to. Let myself breathe a little. Not enough. But a little.

Later, a quiet restaurant. Taehyung wouldn't shut up about the waiter's hair. Jimin kept trying to steal my fries.

It felt normal. Almost.

Almost.

When I got home, it was late. Everything was still dark. Showered. Took my time with it. Let the heat work through the muscle tension.

Slipped into a clean shirt, padded barefoot into the kitchen.

The container was still there. Untouched.

Forgotten.

Leaned back against the counter and stared at it for a second.

She looked nervous. Earlier, at the door. Not in a bad way — more like... caught off guard.

Eyes had flicked over me, like she hadn't meant to.

Not unusual.

That part never is.

Women always look. Always try. I'm used to it. Used to the attention.

She was attractive, though. No doubt about that. Pretty eyes. Long hair — dark, soft-looking. Clothes casual but clean.

She didn't try too hard. Didn't need to.

I sighed, pulled the lid off the container, and stared at the steam. Work tomorrow. Big client pitch. Should sleep.

But my brain wasn't letting me.

Sometimes, when the noise dies down and everything goes still, I hear them again.

Jimin's quiet voice, careful like he's afraid I'll break. Taehyung's not-so-subtle sighs, full of words he's tired of repeating. They never say it directly anymore, but I know. They're worried. They've been worried. Told me I should try. Let someone new in. That maybe, just maybe, it'd help loosen the grip she still has on me. I listened. Once. Met someone. Tried to let them past the wall.

It didn't work.

It felt like pretending to breathe underwater—foreign, wrong. She wasn't her. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't force the pull that never came. So I stopped trying. They still hope. But I know better.

Slid down into the barstool by the counter, chopsticks in hand. Might as well eat. Didn't want to waste it.

The soup was... warm. Savory.

Tasted like effort.

Didn't know what that meant exactly. But it tasted like effort.

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pearlywritings · 1 day ago

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On the strings of each others' souls

synopsis: general headcannons and scenarios on the romantic relationship between deacon Dahlia - the leader of the choir, and you - the organist.

pairing and characters: Dahlia x fem!reader

tw: fluff, colleagues to lovers, established relationship later, reader is the organist at the Church of Favonius, reader is taller than Dahlia, Venti is the wingman

word count: 4.4k+ words

a/n: Shoutout to my dear friend @ladyphaethon-blog, who has been listening to my yapping about Dahlia and came up with several scenarios that ended up being written here. Thank you, love, you brain is sexy <3

You met Dahlia when he officially joined the Church of Favonius - first as the Lord Barabtos’s oracle, then as a deacon and a leader of the choir. Before that you, of course, heard about a young man, who was skilled with his words and knew how to regulate conflicts - you had some respect for him in absentia. When he proclaimed to be bearing the will of the Anemo Archon, you were among the skepticists. But after you became colleagues and grew closer, your doubts quite quickly dissipated.

Being the organist sort of predetermined your close acquaintance with Dahlia - you and him both working with the choir. While your feelings towards getting a new colleague were neutral (you just hoped he'd have been better than his predecessor), the young man was thrilled - new acquisition meant new emotions. And boy, did he remember the emotions from your first meeting. When he was first led to an inconspicuous door to the side from the organ’s pipes and stepped inside your domain, Dahlia thought he witnessed something sacred. He had never given much thought to how the great instrument operated or wherever even the player was placed, but, seeing you, seated in front of the three rows of white and black keys, leaning forward to scribble something in the music sheets while the fingers of your free hand were floating across the keys without pressing and feet moving around the board of pedals without stepping, he was mesmerized. And only when you glanced at him and called his name as if making sure it was who you thought it was, did he snap out of it and, plastering the humblest smile he could muster, walk further into the room.

From then on Dahlia started building his opinion of you. At first, disappointedly, you appeared to him exactly what the church in his mind was - boring. Serious, barely smiling, sticking to the work and not letting him stray from it - the newly ordained deacon found it hard to believe that you both were in your twenties - coevals! But soon he started to take notice of things. How you’d laugh occasionally with the sisters and even crack a harmless joke. How you’d speak softly with the younger ones, make sure to praise the singers when they got better, even help them adjust their uniforms. If he was completely honest, he once caught you helping Barbara tying her pigtails. The girl lamented her late awakening which resulted in a lack of time to get ready properly, and you only smiled, brushing her locks and promising her it’s alright. On more than one occasion he'd watch you frown your brows or widen your eyes adorably, or shake your head with a smile full of acceptance, while grading your student’s theory homework (ah, yes, he also learned you give piano lessons as a part of homeschooling) during the breaks between the choir practices, having occupied one of the benches in the second row.

He then talked to the other nuns. Somehow he managed to get information from the several families who hired you for their kids. And his initial take on you was gradually reformed. He began to figure it out, realizing that you were so closed off only because you were in the senior position to him - helping a newbie adjust, making sure he knew you weren’t there to fool around and that working with you might be a challenge, and suddenly, he was alright with it. Buuuut it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and break the ice.

Dahlia was a peculiar phenomenon to you. Everybody who had eyes and looked longer than five seconds would’ve caught the sight of the mischievous glint in the violet eyes or the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when another reformative suggestion of his brought change to the usual course of things in the cathedral. Plus you saw some of the hymns he carried in his choirbook - he even showed you some himself, asking if it was possible to transfer them from the lyre to the organ. You had no idea how he managed to fool everyone. Yet you promised to discuss the possibility later.

It was easy for you to say that he had little imps dancing in his head, when you had spent quite some time with the man. Absolutely not because his bright aura and showing persistence drew your attention to him. Still, you admitted that you had caught onto his attempts to worm his way under your skin quite fast, you were not stupid or blind, or oblivious. After some time he started to try and evolve the conversations, first with simple talks about the weather and later on asking, as if in passing, how was your day. He would bring something to snack on with the tea - and it was his idea to have breaks (unnecessary ones, since you had rarely spent more than an hour together. Though you came to enjoy them). He would also ask for permission to linger a bit after your discussions were over and hover next to your sitting form, closely watching you operate the organ’s console, occasionally questioning this or that pull or press of your fingers. And you patiently explained.

Four months in you could claim with certainty that you two had become good acquaintances. The kind that not yet teased each other, but already shared jokes and gave the same people a silently judging look. Your expression around him was still mostly neutral, but every time Dahlia had managed to get a sincere smile - no matter how small it was, - from you, or a half-hearted roll of your eyes, or a glare, or his name said in warning…the young man felt the so-beloved feeling of excitement blooming in his chest.

“I think you have a little crush on our dear organist!” Venti once giggled after the deacon confided in his god (or rather spilled the tea about your surprised face one evening over the bottle of wine). Dahlia stopped mid-sip, and then slowly lowered his glass, staring at his friend. Come to think of it… the bard had a point. The young man had to admit it: he enjoyed the little moments you spent together. He finally found your mostly unphased behavior refreshing. He’d been speaking about you to others more. Sometimes he caught himself musing if he should’ve invited you to tug along to the tavern after work. He looked forward to singing you a new rhyme he learnt from somewhere and preened when you clapped and offered him few, but sincere words of praise. The first time you told him you thought he was the right pick for the leader of the choir because you found his voice heavenly? He was speechless and bashful. Ultimately, if we return to his and Venti's conversation, your expression morphed into one of sheepish bewilderment because the deacon decided to be a little tease and called you ‘flower’... Who calls their colleague a flower!? “You know what, Venti? I think you are onto something.” "*gasp* I AM!?"

Nice shot, Venti.

After that fateful conversation, Dahlia began paying closer attention to you. First thing he finally noted was your height. Since you usually greeted him while sitting and the conversation rarely happened on foot, the pink-haired herald never addressed the fact that you were significantly taller than him. Like, eye-level-with-your-collarbones taller. Sometimes your chest, if you had heels on. Did it bother him? As if. It felt strangely exhilarating when he had to lift his head just to look into your calm as the lake surface eyes. Imagination drew pictures of stepping into your embrace and tucking his head under your chin, content and secure, pressing his cheek to your softness… Oops, he was moving too fast too soon in his head.

The second revelation came in the form of the shift in your dynamic. It was no longer only Dahlia coming to you. Now you also sought him out. You'd approach him before morning service and offer to share your breakfast - had little time to eat at home, brought too much with you. Instead of talking to one of the nuns, you went to him directly if something of concern happened. You'd even take your time and walk closer to say hi if you spotted him in the city. The most earth-shaking instance so far, that almost made his heart skip a beat, was you finding him after a little organ concert you gave every Thursday, and showing him a folder with music sheets. “I managed to transfer that song you liked from the lyre to the pipe organ. I can play it to you tomorrow, during my own practice.”

Your voice was even, but Dahlia didn't miss the way your eyes held sparkles in them, and how your lashes trembled when you looked at him, truly looked at him.

And he came on Friday. And he listened. And he felt the feelings bloom. And he sang, first by your side and then stepping outside and filling the grand hall of the cathedral with his voice alongside your music. It was uplifting, it was the creation of something new, something dear, and he paid no mind to the sisters or the members of the congregation who stopped whatever they were doing just to witness his smile, the perfect sync of his melodious voice and the majestic instrument that was playing quieter, softer. For him.

Dahlia ran back inside the room with the slam of the door that almost made you scold him. But you simply had no time for that, not even a second to stand up, as the deacon hugged you tightly around the shoulders in the rush of feelings. He was laughing, he was wearing the widest smile you’d ever seen him possess and he was rocking your bodies from side to side in an unconcealed excitement. He was elated when your fingers softly curled around his arm, squeezing, and the side of your head lightly bumped against his cheek. It took everything in him not to press a kiss to your hair.

And that was then that he realized it was pointless to beat around the bush and asked you to join him in the tavern that very same evening.

“Hey, I was thinking…” It took him around half an hour of hurried praises and a ton of questions you diligently tried to keep up with, but he was finally more or less calm. You let him sit on the organ’s bench together with you. Hips touching, shoulders snug together, and his palm resting on top of the back of yours, as the fingers moved across the keyboard. You told him it’s an exercise you use to show your students how relaxed a hand should be. And it was the closest you’d ever been with him. “Yes?” Your head turned and hand stilled. But he made no effort to remove his. “Why don’t you join me at the Angel’s Share today?” Violet eyes gleamed, and you could swear you caught the glimpse of hope in them. “I rarely see you anywhere after work, unwinding. I promise you good wine and good music.” “Master Diluc’s tavern?” You hummed, glancing to the side, brows drawing together in thought. “I’m afraid it’s too many people and different sounds for my liking. It may not seem like it, but sometimes I can get a minor headache from playing for too long. I would like to avoid making it worse.” “Oh,” the sudden discovery made Dahlia’s enthusiasm waver slightly. But as his mind was rushing to come with something else, your hand turned, letting his palm slide into yours, curling the fingers around his tentatively. “However… I don’t see why we can't save the evening at the tavern for another time and go to the Good Hunter to have a nice dinner instead.” “Are you…” his breath hitched and he couldn’t dare to believe his luck, just not yet, “...are you asking me out?” “Well, technically it was you who asked me out first,” a sliver of tease slipped into your voice, “I simply suggested a different location.” “So…it’s a ‘yes’?” “Absolutely.” “We are going on a date?” “Mhm,” your gaze shifted to his hand and fingers started playing with his. The deacon’s shoulders relaxed. His digits carefully, just one knuckle in, slid between yours. His head tilted back a bit, and mouth released a relieved sigh. And Dahlia fully accepted the fact he was taking his crush out. “Oh, thank Barbatos…” Then, as if remembering something urgent, he slightly bolts, sitting straighter. “Oh, also!” “Yes?” “Can I keep calling you ‘flower’?” To his surprise a small smile graced your lips. “Ask me that after the fifth date, and I promise to think about it.” And you winked. Dahlia was positively gone.

It’s been a couple of years since you officially started dating. Deacon Dahlia, known for his blessing to hear the will of the divine, the young herald with an aura of piety who always has a kind word of advice for the troubled, and you, the Church of Favonius’s organist and composer, a collected young lady, who gives piano lessons and looks after the younger sisters of the church.

To some your union came as a surprise, other citizens were more observant and were suspecting something when you first started to appear together in public for your dates. And very few, like sister Victoria, saw the signs long before.

In any case, people are happy for you. You honestly look good together, and the members of the congregation actually believe it was your mutual devotion to Lord Barbatos that brought your pure souls to each other.

But Dahlia will never ever fool you. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you have that annoying thought that your love made him worse. If before his smile was pretentiously humble, now it looks like sin whenever he graces you with his glance.

His attitude shifted too. Now, with you, he doesn’t have to hold back and pretend he is not a menace to society (and you personally), doesn’t need to think twice before deciding to tease you; you accepted him as your lover and he sure isn’t going to waste any opportunity to do what he enjoys doing most. Bring fun and chaos into your relationship.

His fantasies are a reality now. Nothing can stop this man if he wants to hug his girlfriend (only you). He fawns on you like a pink-furred kitten, sliding his arms around your waist and placing his cheek atop your chest, sighing dreamily. He calls your height difference just perfect, and when you reprimand him (effortlessly) for his behavior, he turns to face you, plants his chin right between your breasts and gives you a goofy smile.

But he is also greedy. Embraces were quick to become ‘not enough’ for him, he soon started to desire kisses. He loves the challenge when he wants one. Catching you by surprise and smooching you as you sit or hovering over you while you are lying are, obviously, good deals. Though they don’t get him going like standing kisses. He loves the playful banter when he asks you to lean down. He isn’t insecure to use the bench or the steps, or the edge of the fountain to jump onto and get his portion of pecks. Archons, for the longest time his unserious ass even had a folding stool on him all time while at church. Sweet and innocent Barbara thought the deacon used it to put his elbows up while praying. Dahlia whipped it out whenever he wanted to get his lips on yours.

Is into making out in random places. Could be the second floor at the Angel’s Share, where you two are tucked in the corner while everyone is celebrating downstairs; chairs half-turned to each other, your mouths moving together in sync, and his hand is held down against your thigh with your own, cutting off his sneaky attempt to paw at you. Hoisting you onto the barrel behind the Cat’s Tail works too - he has a perfect opportunity to invade space between your spread legs and hush your discontent whispers with as many kisses as he wants. Slipping into your ‘work room’ before, in-between and after the practices just to steal some more? A given. Archons, you can even lift him up against the church’s wall and he’ll wrap his arms and legs around your body with vigor, smashing his mouth into yours. He’d even make sure to curl his toes in the shoes just for the giggles.

As matter of fact, Rosaria - who, as you now know, can move soundlessly - once caught you in that very position, when she was trying to skip choir practice. You think the three of you had a staring contest for like, two minutes, before Dahlia, ignoring you hiding your face in his neck and silently dying inside from embarrassment, negotiated with his subordinate, that ‘she saw nothing and you two didn’t see her either’. Still hoisted up. With legs around your waist, swollen lips and everything.

The only case that was worse than that, happened a couple of months into your relationship. Having stayed late to finish some work on picking the new composition for the choir’s repertoire, Dahlia got impatient. The moment you turned away from the manuals of the instrument, your lover was on you. He learned the hard way that the human back slamming against the keys of the pipe organ created a truly LOUD cacophony. Almost at midnight, no less.

You don’t know what exactly Dahlia told the sisters to cover your…blasphemous actions, and you don’t want to know to save your dignity, but the day later your impish boyfriend told you that everything was alright and it only cost him two bottles of the fine dandelion wine for using the Anemo Archon’s name.

As I said -you don’t want to know.

But for a half of a year Dahlia was banned from your domain.

(You nearly brought back this prohibition once you learned that the Holy Lyre der Himmel was first stolen and then returned broken. You had your suspicions, you are not proud of it, but just for good measure you make sure Dahlia knows how delicate, despite its massiveness, the organ is, and how hard, not to mention expensive, it is to fix your instrument.)

Not only Dahlia changed because of the relationship - you did too. Got more sociable, experimental, daring. It came to you as a surprise that being showered with affection and becoming the center of attention of the man you love can be as agreeable as others described it. You are still the responsible one and often mutter at your partner’s shenanigans, but you do not deny that being loved by Dahlia, spending every day by his side feels like a blessing. Even if this ‘blessing’ acts like he has two pointy horns and a sharp-tipped tail.

You are still not the regular at the taverns, but occasionally, on a night before a day off, you would join your lover and your (now mutual) friends. On evenings when you do not, you still stop by on your way from the late classes to pick up your boyfriend and go home together. Dahlia always laughs, when you turn to Diluc or any other barmen on duty and ask genially, if your boyfriend turned the peaceful evening into another messy chaos.

Speaking of friends…

Venti, the notorious bard you’ve seen and heard of before, is now the third wheel in your relationship, but this wheel is FUNCTIONING. Someone wise once said: ‘if you can’t beat them, join them. But if you are too sane to join - just roll with it.’ That’s the path you chose, becoming the observer of their trickstery.

Dahlia once told you, that ever since his friend had found out about the crush the deacon had on you, he’d beg at least twice a day: “please, please, please, get together it will be so fucking funny and wholesome”. With hands clasped together and eyes lifted skyward. (as if this man isn’t a god himself)

Then you were informed that Venti was actually your wingman - self-proclaimed, of course. How come? Very logically: had it not been his proposition, Dahlia wouldn't have joined the church and met you. Well, maybe he would've, somewhere in the city, but at the cathedral he could see you every day! And fall in love! You let him think what he wanted, while Dahlia just smiled into his drink.

There are times though when you admit you owe it to Venti - like that one conversation on an evening you barely remember.

“Soooo, Dahlia calls you a flower, huh?” The bard muses when your boyfriend leaves the table for a refill with a kiss to your temple and a quiet murmur of a nickname that stuck. “Yep,” your lips pop the last letter like it’s a vexation, but an unconscious action of gliding your fingertips over the ring with a flowery pattern on your hand tells the wind god a different story. “Aww, does it mean he’s your little bug?” “What?” You shoot him a look, surprised. The bard twists the teal-died braid between his fingers, puts his chin on a free palm and gives you a toothy grin. “Come on, isn’t it obvious? He can’t get his hands off of you, he practically climbs on you. And if you are a beautiful flower, he should be an itty-bitty beatle.” The man watches you ponder his words, witnesses the moment when an idea gets into your head, and relishes in the devious smile that stretches your mouth. “Venti, I don’t say it often - but you are a genius.” “Tee-hee, so I’ve been told~” When Dahlia is finally back, three mugs are placed on the table, and he reclaims his seat by your side, you catch him off guard with a peck to his lips and a sweet, practically saccharine ‘missed you, cuddlebug’, and Venti bursts out laughing nose first into his mug.

Ultimately, Venti is Dahlia’s man. His backup. His partner in crime. His wingman. You can only cover your face with a hand when the bard, already drunk and wobbly, bends down, wraps his arms around his friend’s legs and hoists him up, swearing it’s only because your lover wants a kiss. From you. No, asking you to lean down is not an option today, absolutely not.

You are so tired of them /aff

You three are like a modern sitcom. The company of three where: 1) two are dating; 2) the third one is drinking at the expanse of the other two; 3) the third one is also a god and the guy from the pair is his herald and they are best buddies; 4) the herald’s girlfriend is in a permanent state of wanting to smack the other guy on the back of his head, yet every time lets him crash at her house.

By the way, living with Dahlia is…an experience. No, he is responsible with his chores (though he doesn’t miss an opportunity to use their completion as an excuse to demand affection), and isn’t one to bring other people around (Venti is an unspoken exception). But he gets so clingy when left alone with you in the comfort of your shared space. If you cook something, he is attached to your back with arms wrapped around your waist. If you lounge on the sofa, he comes and drapes himself over you like a weighted blanket, expecting headpats and getting away with his hand wiggling under your shirt. If he is the one sitting and you come into the room, he lights up and pats his lap. Even if there are plenty of places to sit down (he just loves how he can put his head onto your chest when you settle on top of his thighs sideways, says your heartbeat calms him). Practically, he leaves you alone only if you ask him to and during the hours when you need your concentration being directed solely to music.

He steals the blankets. Which isn’t that much of a problem, considering he hogs you into his arms as well. Giggles, when you repeat the ‘cuddlebug’ nickname sleepily for the tenth time, and throws his leg over yours for good measure. Sometimes he sings you off to sleep, using that high beautiful voice for your ears only. Never lets you out of bed without a morning kiss (you tried, but he is quite a light sleeper). On several occasions has played harmless pranks by handing you his shirt instead of yours or hiding socks the way you have to wear a mismatched pair (no one sees, but he knows, and it brings him joy). Always has an attentive ear, a soothing silence and a warm embrace to offer when you feel down.

All in all, Dahlia is a good boyfriend. Yes, he does things that leave you wondering how people still see him as a perfect image of a cleric, but he never makes you a part of a drama that could cause any form of harm. He’s a huge tease, but while his mouth is flirting, his eyes gaze at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and named at least ten in his honor. He is attentive, supportive and ready to step in if someone bothers you (on more than one occasion he, wearing the most innocent look his skills could provide, rage-baited the person who was making you uncomfortable, making it so the knights were forcing them from you and taking them away). He remembers stuff you like, surprising you at least once a week with a trinket that caught your eye or a favorite snack of yours that is sold on a specific day at a specific time, or something else that’ll delight you. He also doesn’t forget important dates, even if they are your personal ones. You were gobsmacked when last year he asked how you two were going to celebrate the 5-year anniversary of your successful career as the piano teacher (you forgot about it!). But most importantly…

Dahlia loves you. Loves you like the sun that plays with the colors of the stained-glass windows. Loves you like a long walk home when you can talk and talk about what your future holds. Loves you like you are a mystery he’ll never unfold, but will happily try again and again. Loves you like a constant that his drama-seeking self didn’t know it so desperately needed.

And when your hand finds his, and you whisper earnestly an ‘I love you’ back, Dahlia believes his life has truly been blessed.

taglist: @ghostlymoons, @queenskippy

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dahlia x reader #dahlia x fem!reader #genshin dahlia #genshin impact fluff #organist!reader au

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hearts4golbach · 1 year ago

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could you write something about reader and johnnie related to the line 'he love me but he fucks me like he hates my guts' from the song yummy? ty 💕💕

Tease.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

warnings: use of ma, baby, mama, love, babe, slut, cheating, rough sex, unprotected sex (please use protection lol), overstimulation, implied hair pulling.

third person.

Johnnie had never thought of you as anything more than his best friend. maybe he had thought about you late at night, biting his tongue so as not to wake up jake in the room over, but never past that. he had always shooed away the thought, anyway.

ever since his past girlfriend, he had refused to ever think of another person romantically. although, he had acknowledged from time to time how funny, kind, and beautiful you were. he admired you in a friend way, he told himself.

although, whenever you had posted a selfie laying in your bed in the cutest outfit he had ever seen, it made him rethink your relationship.

he thought about the way your face lit up brighter than the sun when you saw him and the way your hand would purposefully graze him every chance you got. how could he be so oblivious? he began to think as his feelings for you grew.

you never seemed to mention other guys until you did. it was late at night whenever you had walked into johnnies room and asked him for advice. you wanted to know how to respond to a flirty text some random guy on instagram had sent, you explained. You thought he was cute and lived just a city over. this infuriated johnnie, as his feelings had been brewing for about 3 months now.

it didn't help that he got to see you every day, not that he was complaining, but it was torture. he frequently thought of you in your booty shorts and oversized band t-shirt early in the morning, making breakfast. or the slutty dresses youd wear to parties every other weekend. dont even get him started on the rhinestone belts you incorporated into every outfit. you had one in every different color, and he believed it was the cutest thing, your little addiction to them. it became too much to bear, and he frequently considered pouring his heart out to you. but he never did. things were going well with the other guy, and all he wanted was for you to be happy.

first person.

"Why are we even hanging all of this up? everyone is gonna be too drunk to notice, anyway." i complained, my arms beginning to ache as i held the decorations of choice to the wall while johnnie pinned them.

he shrugged, his eyes trailing down my body as i stretched. "cause were cool."

"i guess," i sighed, "im so worried, the guy I've been talking to is coming tonight." truth was, i could give a fuck less about that guy. yeah, he was sweet, but he wasn't johnnie. he wasn't anywhere close to being as prefect as johnnie was.

i looked into his eyes, praying he would beg me to uninvite him and be his, but that didn't happen. "Don't be, you'll be good," he responded nonchalantly before turning away to go put up valuables in the house that could be broken.

i stared at him for a moment before turning around and tending to my own work.

"Do you think this dress is okay?" i asked frantically.

"y/n, people are about to start showing up, and you're still trying to get dressed -" johnnie began to scold as he turned around.

his face flushed as he admired me in the dress. his eyes hesitated, staring at the slit in the dress that revealed my thigh and how the cut of the dress complimented my cleavage. he stayed silent.

"...so?" i asked, putting my hands on my hips.

"yeah, its whatever. its good." he brushed me off, going to unlock the door.

i hated how much he acted like he didn't care. i rolled my eyes and walked back to my room to put my shoes on. even though it was my own house, i didn't want anyone looking at my feet, of course. i put on my comfiest pair of heels and went to grab the drinks from the kitchen. i organized them on the table, setting out the plastic cups. i felt an arm wrap around my waist as a presence moved next to me.

"hey, its good to see you." the guy from instagram whispered in my ear. i leaned into his touch, ignoring the growing ache in my heart. "you look stunning."

"Thank you," i smile, "it's good to see you, too." This was only the second time we had ever seen each other in person.

i heard johnnie laughing behind me, presumably speaking to jake. i glanced behind me to see him leaning on the counter. he looked at me at the exact same time. He held his breath as his eyes ran over every part of me before turning his attention back to jake.

i sighed, "you wanna go dance?" i asked, hoping he'd say yes and hoping johnnie would hate it.

his eyes shined with lust, "Of course."

i grabbed his hand and dragged him into the other room, making sure we were still in johnnies vision. the guys hands moved to my hips immediately, pulling me onto him. my eye twitched with anger. i hoped it would work. i hoped and prayed johnnie would give in and make me his, so i had a reason to end this situationship. distractions weren't working anymore.

i kept my eyes on johnnie as he turned to watch. his eyebrows scrunched together whenever he saw the way i was pressed into the guy. his hand gripped the cup tighter, his knuckles turning white. i held eye contact the whole time, my gaze never leaving his as our movements became more sexual.

johnnie turned back to jake, saying something before setting his cup down and walking over to me. "can i steal you for a second?"

"Sure, bro," the guy said, taking his hands off of me and letting me walk away with johnnie.

"what, johnnie?" i groan, "im just trying to have fun."

he pushed me into my room and shut the door behind us and locked it. "what the fuck do you think youre doing?"

"what do you mean?" my heart raced.

"You know exactly what you're doing." he whispered in my ear, his pale arms snaked around me and grabbed my hips. "You've been teasing me for so long."

he pulled me closer. i pressed my hands against his chest. "really? what makes you say that?" i taunted.

"Those tiny jean shorts you wear around the house. you never wear them out, so i know they're for me. and those studded belts you always wear that somehow make your body even sexier than it already is." his hands slid down my thighs and pulled up my dress. it bunched around my waist as he squeezed my ass. "you really think i dont notice all the slutty little things you do?"

i bit my lip, feeling his nails digging into my flesh. "i was hoping you did. ive wanted you for so long."

"me too, mama." he replied before crashing his lips onto mine.

the kiss was rough and needy. he pressed me against the wall, his hands dragging up my body to my tits. he squeezed and pawed at them, not bothering to be gentle. i let out a soft moan on his lips. i felt him grow harder through his jeans as he pressed into me. i began to pull off of his shirt, immediately returning to the kiss as it landed on the floor. he wrapped his hand around my neck, squeezing gently. our teeth occasionally clashed as we tried to take as much of each other as possible.

he lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist before bringing me to the bed. he tossed me down on my back before crawling on top of me. his mouth found the soft spot on my neck, biting and sucking until dark hickeys covered my neck and chest. he pulled the top of my dress down, revealing my bare chest.

he hummed, "god, you're so beautiful." he murmured before taking my nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirled over the bud, sucking gently. i moaned and arched my back, grinding onto his buldge.

"fuck, johnnie, let me have you." i pleaded, beginning to unbuckle his pants.

"Yes, ma'am." he complied, pulling his pants and boxers down around his ankles. his hard dick sprung out of his jeans.

i hissed, "shit."

johnnie slipped his middle and ring finger in my mouth. "Spit, baby." i did as he told, licking his fingers before spitting on them. my gaze never left his. i watched as lust overtook his eyes. "Good girl."

he rubbed my spit on his cock, wincing slightly as the friction. his slender fingers slipped through the lace strap of my underwear, pulling them down. i choked out curses as the cold air hit my pussy.

"god, youre fucking soaked." he smriked, "youre going to do so good for me, ma."

he gripped my hips, aligning his tip with my entrance before slowly sliding his cock inside of me. my mouth fell ajar as a soft moan escaped my lips. he bottomed out, giving me a moment to adjust to his size. my walls squeezed his cock, sending shivers through my body.

"fuck," he choked out, "are you okay?" he checked, running his hand over my cheek and pulling on my bottom lip.

i nodded quickly, wrapping my legs around his waist. his fingers intertwined with mine, putting one hand above my head. his other stayed on my hip, gripping so tightly i figured there'd be bruises in the morning. he began to thrust slowly, taking his time with me.

"I've wanted to feel you for so long," he muttered on my lips before kissing me softly. "god, youre so perfect. do you think you can take me, babe?"

i hesitated before nodding. "yes, oh my- please."

he moved his hand, so he had a firm hold on my hips. speeding up his pace, he whispered sweet nothings under his breath. "That's it, baby." his hand flew to my clit, rubbing circles.

my back arched slightly as i threw my head back. he took that to his advantage, his cock driving further into me. "Oh, shit." i moaned, placing my hand on his chest. "johnnie, i-i can't.."

"Yes, you can, love. i believe in you." his eyebrows furrowed. "im not done with you, yet."

i nodded, letting pleasure take over my body. moans and curses flowed out of my mouth. his pace was relentless. my mind was fuzzy, and i couldn't form any words besides his name. i moaned his name loud, forgetting other people could hear.

"you arent worried about your little boyfriend hearing you?" he chuckled in between pants, "youre such a slut, i love it."

"only you," i repeated, "only for you."

"That's my girl," he slammed my g-spot over and over as a knot began to form in my stomach. "youre mine."

i nodded eagerly, "'m gonna cum, baby."

"Me too, where do you want me?" he asked breathlessly. his thrusts became sloppy.

"inside. im on the pill," i moaned out, louder than i was expecting.

"i fucking love you." his raspy voice responded. "cum with me, mama."

his thumb met my clit again as my walls milked his cock, taking every last drop of his cum inside. my orgasm took over my body, making me go limp.

he kissed my forehead. "god, you're amazing," he flipped me over so i was bending over the bed, "give me one more."

all i could do was nod as i was still recovering from my previous orgasm. without warning, he was inside of me again, his quick pace never faltering.

my moans became high-pitched. the overstimulation was a mix of pain and pleasure. his fingers tangled in my hair, pushing my head down into the bed as he hit a different angle inside of me. his other hand gripped my ass as low whimpers slipped from his lips.

"fuck, i love you so much." his sweet words contradicting his actions. i tried to say it back, but it came out unintelligible. he stopped thrusting, balls deep inside of me. "use your words, baby."

"fuck, i love you." i grinded my ass into his hips, "i love you so much."

his cock began to drill into me again as i felt the knot in my stomach tighten again. "You close?" i moaned out in agreement. "Me too,"

my second orgasm hit me like a truck at the same time his did. johnnie collapsed onto the bed next to me. "we'll go shower when everyone leaves." he said breathlessly. i nodded in agreement. i laid my head on his chest and knocked the fuck out.

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #smut #johnnie guilbert smut #party #overstim kink #ayesha ericota

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divinemodes · 2 months ago

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Welcome, my friend.

I write to you as if I'm screaming from the depths of hell, my being torn apart by grief every moment. I am here in the hospital, watching my child struggle between the mists of life and death, clinging to a ventilator that has become like a rope tying me to him, tearing at my heart with every weak beat.

Words fail to describe the pain I feel, and I realize the cruelty imposed on us by the circumstances. The doctor, with his broken voice, told me that my child's life was on the brink of collapse, and that if the surgery was not performed immediately and the $2,650 cost paid, his ventilator would be removed, and he would plunge into the darkness of death, never to return. How can I bear to watch my child lose the sparkle of life from his eyes, while the suffering in my body and soul increases?

I ask you, with all your strength, to extend a helping hand in these difficult moments that cannot wait. Please save my child, restore to him a glimmer of hope in this world where fate has treated us so harshly. No matter how small the amount, no matter how many words or contributions, they can be the bridge that keeps us away from this dark end.

I know words cannot bear the weight of this pain, but I beg you from the bottom of my broken heart to help, before my child's candle is extinguished and my soul sinks into the clutches of despair.

#raneen2025a

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kurishiri · 7 months ago

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i see that you're playing the JP server and do the translation by yourself, would you mind to describe Alfons's personality? I got understand he's a cat-like-person, but sometimes i couldn't grasp his personality pretty well

anyway, thankyou for your hardwork 🥰 i really love your tranlastions hehe

hii anon! first of all ty for reading my tls 🥺🫶 it rly means a lot to hear. i find it also can be a way to bring over paid content to those who may not be inclined to pay for it…i kinda feel its my way of contributing smth to the community a bit ig haha.

but as for als personality…hmm i kind of opted to go with an approach where i sorta write down my streamline thoughts as i go. so theres not much organization, but hopefully it can give a bit more insight, or smth to think abt! i will put under the cut, as there may be some minor spoilers below.

alfons mini essay ↓

i think he is sort of like a walking contradiction. he does things in the pursuit of his own pleasure, yet his actions always save others who r struggling. he wants to create distance and acts like he doesnt care, and yet he is deeply sensitive. he has no will to live, yet can’t bear to leave others alone. he pushes his views and philosophy onto others, yet he tries to be considerate…perhaps by doing exactly that.

he cant bear the pain, yet if anyone got hurt, he would rather it be himself than anyone else.

he is a hedonist, pursuing things that r pleasurable to himself. he has promiscuous relations with his “friends,” plays around at night, casts illusions within the slums, and drinks away the day and night. he likes fun, thrilling, dangerous games, and his sense of humor stems from his contradictions. but is he really doing all this for himself? to him, escapism is an essential part of life bc life is nothing but a tragedy. if you dont indulge in these pleasures, life will someday crush you. he himself learned tht the hard way and thats maybe why he is quite sensitive to others pain and suffering and wants to relieve them of it. (this is evident from elbie and als first meeting!)

he does it in a way where he can distance himself due to the nature of his curse. again, it all stems back to the mindset of “getting close to them will only hurt them more in the end” bc they will end up forgetting he had ever existed…but he understood and empathized what elbie was going through, and that was why he had stayed with him all these yrs. and even with liam, though he never really meddles deeply, he was able to observe how, when liam needed an illusion, he himself was never in them. in other words, a convenient illusion to liam was one where he was not in this world. and with kate, he knew that she was scared, so thats why he “kept her company” so to speak. but in the end, he cant save himself. he cant forget what he wants to forget, even though he can help others forget their pain, so he is also self-deprecating in that sense.

but, rly, if you stripped away all the outer lyrs, the complications due to his curse and his trauma, at his core he is a very kind and selfless person i believe.

so kind, so selfless, it borders on self-destruction.

#ask #anon #ikemen villains #ikevil alfons

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manygeese · 6 months ago

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@lost-trio-week Lost Trio Week Day 1: Nicknames

Before we get into this, let’s get this straight: teens who are friends, in my experience, come up with the stupidest nicknames for each other. A friend of mine calls me, a girl whose real name is rather feminine, Steve. Also taken to calling me Crazy Steve lately. There’s also Luigi, nerd alert, etc. etc. I have many a nickname and a grand total of zero make sense. Okay, on with the fic!

~*~

“Okay, you are not supposed to serve it that hard,” Leo huffed after an embarrassing attempt to hit the volleyball that was flying way too high over his head.

It was a late summer afternoon, and Piper had insisted that Leo and Jason go with her to the park and help her practice for volleyball tryouts. Unfortunately, Jason had broken his ankle falling out of a tree (thank you, vengeful venti, that was a great surprise) and Leo was in no way a volleyball champ. Piper found herself surprisingly frustrated. If she didn’t get on the team, she was going to freak the fuck out. Literally all of the cute girls, cough cough Reyna Ramírez-Arellano cough cough, were on the team and she would be seriously missing out.

“Sorry that you’re too much of a shorty to get the fucking ball, dude,” Piper retorted, sticking out her tongue and giving him a raspberry. “Seriously, you need to actually go for it, bro. Get some air next time.”

“You turn into a different person whenever we play volleyball. Like you’re a frat boy. It’s all ‘get the fucking ball, dude’ or ‘go for it, bro’.”

Piper huffed as she carried the ball back to the green space where they were playing. “Shut up.”

“You become Chad whenever we play volleyball.”

“I do not ‘become Chad’ whenever we play volleyball!”

“Yes, you do.”

“Jason, tell him that I don’t become Chad whenever we play volleyball,” Piper whined, looking over to where Jason was situated in a neon green Adirondack chair.

“Leo, Piper doesn’t become Chad whenever you play volleyball,” he echoed absentmindedly, not looking up from his book. His head shot up like a pointing Spaniel when he realized what he’d said. “Wait, what? Become Chad?”

“Let me show you!” Leo clapped his eager hands together in quick succession. “C’mon, Piper, serve me the ball.”

She sighed and shot the ball over to him. He moved to the side and hit it back. They volleyed the ball three more times before it sailed over Leo’s head, making it pretty much impossible for him to do anything but sigh and retrieve it. Wait, did it land in a tree? Amazing. Lovely. What an awesome day.

“Oh, come the fuck on, man! You totally could’ve gotten that shit!” Piper complained.

Jason looked towards her with growing fear. “You do become Chad whenever you play volleyball.”

Leo had an annoyingly satisfied grin on his annoyingly smug face. Piper could see it, even if he was ten feet up in a tree. “I told you, Chad,” he called, chucking the ball at her once he had gotten it.

She caught it with ease. “I would not be a Chad if I was a frat boy.” Piper, knowing that she had lost on one front, moved to another. “I would be… Michael.”

“Michael is not a frat boy. Michael is a nerd,” Leo insisted. He tumbled down a few branches. Piper grimaced in sympathy.

“Now, if you called him Mike,” Jason pointed out.

Piper made a face, like she was taking a big bite of the world’s sourest gummy bear and washing it down with spoiled milk. “Ew, nevermind, I wouldn’t be a Mike.”

“What about Ryan?” Jason offered.

“Never in this life or the next would I let myself be called Ryan. I would sooner implode.”

Jason shook his head. “See, now you’re acting like Michael.”

Leo shook the sticks and leaves out of his hair once he was back on solid ground and squinted at her scrutinizingly. “Ethan,” he decided.

“Oh my Gods, you are Ethan,” Jason agreed.

“Y’know what? I am an Ethan. I can accept that.”

“If I ever develop demigod safe phones, your name in mine is gonna be Ethan,” Leo concluded.

~*~

Months later, over Christmas break, Piper, Jason and the rest of the seven received rough drafts of what were supposed to be demigod safe phones. Leo had bragged and bragged about the job he and his siblings had managed to do, but Jason didn’t quite see the appeal.

“Leo, how do I work this thing?” Jason asked, staring intensely into the screen. “It’s so… small.”

“Are you wearing your glasses?” Piper asked from where she sat on the couch opposite him, already signing up for Instagram on her all new Hephaestus-Cabin made-phone. They were working on the names. So far Harley had suggested Hephonestus, but the only one to second it was Leo.

Jason searched for the frame of his glasses in his peripheral vision. “I am… not. I left them on my bedside table.”

“Okay, Grandma, you want me to get them for you?” Leo teased, ruffling the blond’s hair. “Have you taken your medication today? What about measuring your blood pressure?”

Jason sighed deeply. “I understand the elderly in a way I thought I never would. I am one of them.”

“I’ll tell Hazel and Nico you said that. I think they’re having an old movie marathon soon, you should join them,” Piper suggested. Her mouth tilted up on one side in a sly smirk. “You’ll love the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies, Grandma. Say, didn’t you see those in the theater when they first came out?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Eh, kids these days.”

Leo fell into a pit of giggles at Jason’s old woman accent. He had somehow managed to nail it.

“Back in my day, we didn’t have any fancy contraptions such as these-” he waved the phone around in the air, holding it by the corner like he was disgusted by it- “All we had were stock market crashes and crude oil.”

“Pfft,” Piper said. She snapped a sly picture of her friends and made a mental note to post it on her private account later. She would caption it “holidays with Grandma.” No, maybe “Jason discovering his inner old lady”? She’d have to workshop it.

Leo took a deep breath in a last attempt to escape the clutching grasp of laughter. “Okay, it’s official: I’m going to have a group chat with Ethan and Grandma. Two polar opposite beings.”

“No, you remember Ethan?” Piper griped. “This is not going to be good for me.”

Jason nodded solemnly. “Ethan and Grandma: an unstoppable duo.”

“Ethan and Grandma: yin and yang.” Leo pitched like it was a movie, the summer blockbuster.

Piper relented. “Ethan and Grandma: best of friends.”

~*~

Just about the worst thing about Summer was the heat. Everybody agreed on that front (except Leo, he insisted it was the crowds at camp).

Jason and Piper were sprawled out in the strawberry fields, claiming it was too hot to do any real work. Leo, being immune to the heat, just rolled his eyes and kept on picking the berries. He would laugh at them later when Chiron gave them dish washing duty for skirting their responsibilities, but he’d also probably go right down with them if Harley didn’t pitch too big a fit about his absence during the campfire.

Jason tugged on one of the north winds and brought it their way. He sighed as he felt the coolness wash over his face. “Strawberry me, Leo,” he ordered.

“You got it, boss.” He lined up his shot and tossed it towards Jason’s mouth. It would have landed on the grass next to him, but thanks to a little wind manipulation, it was right on target.

“Hey, I want one too!” Piper whined, opening her mouth with an “ahh.” It morphed into an “ow” when the strawberry clocked her square in the forehead. Jason snickered next to her, causing her to slap him lightly in the arm. “Superman? More like Loserman,” she mumbled.

Leo laughed. “Loserman. That’s a good one. We should add it to the list.”

“The list?” Jason asked incredulously. “What list?”

Piper nodded sagely. “We should. Add it to the list, that is.”

Jason sat up and wiped sweat from his brow. “Guys, I’m lost. What is the list?”

There was a list, tacked onto the corkboard in Leo’s room, of the best ways to avoid calling Jason his actual name. It was part of an ongoing experiment to trick new campers into thinking his name was actually Superman or Blondie. “Like Ponyboy from The Outsiders,” Leo had pointed out when his big sister Nyssa found out. She had given him a look and a confused laugh before leaving him and Piper to their own devices.

“You want another strawberry, Pipes?” Leo asked, already finding the best one to give her.

“You know it.” She opened her eyes this time, ready to course correct if need be. Need did indeed be, as the strawberry was headed for the ground above her head, but she shuffled up just in time to catch it in her mouth. It was the green part first, though, so she spat it out and started picking the leaves off.

“You guys are so nefarious,” Jason complained. “You’re always making up lists and you never tell me. There was the list about which horror movies scared me the most so you could torture me on the Halloween movie night. There was the one about what you were going to get me for my birthday, which, now that I say it out loud, makes sense. But my point still stands! If you were a Batman villain, you’d be called the Lister or something stupid like that.”

Piper guffawed. “The Lister is such a lame name. He’d be called the List Bitch.”

“The what huh?” Leo twirled around, making several strawberries fall out of his basket. Jason reached for the nearest one.

“No, that doesn’t quite rhyme. Also, they wouldn’t print the word bitch in the comics,” Jason argued. “List Bist. That rhymes. But it doesn’t make any sense.”

“List Bisque. Bisque is a word, right?” Piper tried.

“Yeah, it’s a type of soup I think. Lobster bisque is pretty good, or so I’ve heard.”

Piper nodded sagely again. “Lobster bisque. That’s good. Leo, if you were a Batman villain, you’d be Lobster Bisque.”

“What does that have to do with me? I am not a lobster and I don’t have a particular connection to soup,” Leo grumbled, picking more strawberries. Maybe he would let them take the fall for dish washing after all.

Jason shrugged and snatched another fruit while Leo wasn’t looking. “I don’t know, but I’m going to get Piper to change your name on my phone to that.”

“Ethan, Grandma and Lobster Bisque.” Piper seemed to envision it as she looked into the wide blue sky. She nodded sagely one final time. “Perfect.”

#leo valdez #jason grace #piper mclean #lost trio week #lost trio #the lost trio #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus fanfic

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luvmailing · 1 year ago

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boyfriend hcs for pavitr :3

with you always !

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, potentially ooc, pavitr being a good boyfriend, can interpret as him w/ gayatri,,, but i'm assuming this was an x reader ask!!! 」

「 gn!reader, romantic relationship <3 」

↳ ft. pavitr prabhakar

author's note: TY FOR THE REQUEST!!! i hope this is what you wanted (*´＾｀)ゞ jus some hcs of pav being the patootest of cuties (⑅˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ ) also!! to anyone else who has reqz,,, the inbox is open!! two slots d=(´▽｀)=b

▸ fears being the boyfriend that forgets anniversaries, holidays, birthdays, and other occasions. will literally never let himself be that— but,,, he does tend to overcompensate just a little bit. small gifts for every monthsary, love letters and long, sappy texts to commemorate the day the two of you first met, etc etc.

sometimes you joke that he’s going to start celebrating stuff like your 100th kiss. he did genuinely consider that…

▸ if you have terrible emotional permanence or constantly need reassurance in a relationship, pavitr might literally be perfect for you. he’ll make sure that there is not a single doubt in your head that he loves and your company.

you get antsy when you’re left on delivery for too long? he literally checks for notifs from you first thing in the morning— he’s just so excited to talk to you!!!!

you miss him too much when he’s been away for a while? well, actually, he’s been planning a whole ass full-day date for the two of you— and it’s coming up soon! better prepare an outfit!

whatever concerns might swarm your head, pavitr is there to clear it up— if completely honest, he had no clue you felt so nervous about that type of stuff. not that he minds! he’s just been doing all of this organically, so he’s glad to know that it’s comforting to you. bro’s just mad affectionate

▸ the streets in mumbattan are always busy. naturally, pavitr holds the sidewalk rule in his heart like a moral code of conduct. actively makes sure that there is No Chance of you getting a little too close to moving vehicles. holds your hand so much too,, to the point where its easier to count the times where he's not holding your hand.

will complain and exaggerate how much he misses you when you pull your hand away

“pav, my hands are getting all clammy, it’s gonna be gross—” you’re trying to pry your hand away to no avail. he, in fact, chooses to intertwine your fingers just to make a point.

“c’mon, you know i don’t mind!” he grins brightly, swinging your arms as you walk.

always quick to give you a little tug when you start moving a little too close to the active streets.

▸ do not expect movie nights to be quiet. he has opinions, a letterboxd account, and a need to be heard. obviously, he’ll shush up when needed but pavitr is a reactive watcher. will be down just to watch a bad movie with you just to complain or laugh about it.

▸ tells you that he’s got the tissues for more emotional movies only to end up using like half of them. clutching you as tight as he can, practically using you as an emotional support teddy bear.

he’ll say something like, “why are they breaking up? they were supposed to be endgame!” and then glance at you in his arms with the most heartbroken watery eyes ever... and then get even more emotional thinking of that type of situation happening to the two of you. it takes him many gentle words and kisses for the romantic movies with sad endings

when it’s a cute and sappy movie, he’ll want to recreate every cute scene with you. it’s gotten to the point where he’ll literally point at the screen and look at you when a cute moment in the movie happens— and you’ll know exactly what he’s asking.

he’s going “that’s us :D” throughout the entire film.

however,,, no matter what you’re watching, he’ll definitely do the “fake-yawn-to-put-arm-around-shoulders” thing with you no matter how much you insist that it’s fine for him to just put his arm around you. he thinks it’s smooth. don’t ruin his fun :(

▸ has a photo of you two together as his lock screen wallpaper, has a photo of you with him always, would keep your face in a locket— pavitr loves having photos of you to keep you close to him, even when he’s away. big fan of polaroids and photo booths.

freaked out majorly one day when he misplaced a photo of you while on a mission. hobie had to remind him to breathe as he paced back and forth with hands in his hair, muttering to himself about where he might’ve lost it. bro was STRESSED about losing his fave photo of you in multidimensional travel

…it was in the bottom of his backpack.

— reblogs always appreciated!

#atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar headcanons #atsv fanfiction

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sydneys-adamu · 9 months ago

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I wrote this for sc week. read if you like :)

@ambeauty ty for being my superstar 🩷

#sydcarmy #sydcarmy week 2024 #the bear #words n stuff

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everydayyoulovemeless · 2 years ago

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If you're comfortable with it, can you please do some romantic hcs for Dr. Dala?

Romantic Dr. Dala HCs

➼ Word Count » 0.6k ➼ Warnings » Slightly Unhealthy ➼ Genre » Romantic

First, she'll treat you like a pet within the Think Tank rather than a person, let alone an equal. She shushes you when you're sad and leashes you if you begin to get violent or angry in any capacity. I mean, what if you hurt yourself? You're not as intelligent as she or any of the others are. You need to be watched and taken care of.

She has a habit of putting her monitors way closer than what's considered comfortable. You'll hardly get any personal space being with her.

Dala doesn't sleep, but she loves it when you do. She could spend every night for the rest of eternity listening to the sounds you make when you're fully unconscious.

She has hundreds of recordings of your snores, the sound of your sleep taking, the rhythm of your heartbeat, the echo of your footsteps, and the vibrations of your voice. Anything related to you is stored somewhere within her hard drive.

Assuming that you're living with her in Big MT, you'll be spending a lot of time sitting in a room she designed specifically for you while she observes your response to different stimuli she provides. It wouldn't ever be anything lethal--you're far too perfect for that--it'll just be for... research purposes.

She loves gifting you different bears. Even if you're a full-grown adult, she'll hand you a box of stuffed animals that have been torn apart and sewn back together again. She thinks they're so romantic.

She loves it when you ask her questions or are confused about something because then she can mold your mind however she pleases. A confused lobotomite is an easy-to-control one, and she loves it when she's in control.

She likes to sneak heavy drugs into your food just to see you fumble and trip around her lab. She thinks it's adorable and much prefers it when you rely on her to get around.

Dala only lets you eat if she's the one who feeds you, which shouldn't be a problem since she's always there beside you.

Occasionally, she'll turn the pacification field off and let you hit her. She finds it important to test your strength over the time you've spent with her and the other scientists. However, if you refuse, she'll coo over you and write the behavior down as odd.

She has a strange habit of tying you down as she pokes and prods at your organs and tissues. She revels in any reaction you give her and would keep you fastened to the table forever if you let her.

She secretly still has one or two of your organs in a jar. She doesn't use them in any malicious way, she only keeps them in case you ever decide to leave her. Then she'll have a reason for you to stay.

Dala has a huge fixation on your eyes and will sometimes try to pry them open with tweezers or whatever other item she has with you. If you ever happen to die, the first thing she plans on doing is plucking those pretty eyes straight out of your skull and into a nice jar.

She gets jealous really easily and would make it very clear that she only wants you to talk to her. You don't need the others. They don't love you in the same way she does. This is also not an issue as the others don't want anything to do with you.

She's not what most would expect to receive out of a relationship, but at least it's different? She'll be obsessed over almost everything you do and has no qualms about harming you, but everyone shows their love in different ways, right?

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #dr dala fnv #dr dala #courier 6 #courier six #old world blues #old world blues dlc #fnv fanfic #romantic headcanons #unhealthy obsession

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gingervitus · 6 months ago

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Right now, though, she’s approaching with a softness in her features. One that comes bearing gifts if her full hands are any indication.

“Looks more like brooding to me, but whatever you say,” she quips, shoving a glass of wine in his direction. In her other hand, she precariously holds another glass and what appears to be a makeshift sack made from cheesecloth. “But Harding made dinner, so I know you’re running on too much coffee and sheer force of will.” She takes a sip of her wine, holding the cheesecloth parcel out to him. “Eat.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, he accepts the bag from her. The loose knot she’s tied is flimsy and easy to unravel. While this was likely done on purpose for ease of reopening, he commits this to memory in the event they will need any sort of fastening by means of knot tying in the future. Within the confines of the bag, he finds several slices of cheese that vary in size and thickness–cut quickly and haphazardly–, half a small loaf of bread, and an apple.

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

OH HI. I'M BACK ON MY BULLSHIT.

#dragon age #veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #datv #datv rook #rook laidir #datv fanfic #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookanis

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 1 year ago

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New World (5)

Itachi Uchiha x Reader Fluff

Summary: The world War has met its end and Itachi has returned to his village. He questions whether he should set down his roots here when he meets a stranger. Or rather, a stranger is forced upon him by fate.

Warnings: attempted murder, attempted flirtation, attempted insults, attempted threats of murder, attempted stealing of HEARTS

Word Count: Can someone send me pictures of their cats? I want to feel a little better before going back to work after the holidays

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Oof, Y/N! You look like you got smushed by one of the Oxen!" I wish I got smushed by one of the oxen. That would have been much easier to bear, you internally groan at yourself. Nami tries her best to comb the tangled mess that is your hair while forcing you to drink as much water as possible. She is visibly worried about the drowsiness still in your eyes as your steps wobble when you walk towards the courtyard to meet everyone else. The Bamboo villagers have already gathered there for the day. So has Naruto. Kakashi and Itachi are nowhere to be seen and Nami does not want to go look out for them while leaving you with people she does not trust much. "Where were you all night?" your friend whispers close to you, trying to comb out the stubborn knots before tying your hair in a braid. The pounding sensation in your brain has mercy on your sensory organs for a moment and lets Nami's worry slip in to let you form a sentence for a reply.

"I was-" you rub your eyes and crinkle your brows to think hard about last night- "I think I was behind the cottages somewhere." Your voice still croaks even after drinking all that water. There are nothing but judgmental glares coming from the Bamboo villagers; even Toge. "People should drink only till the point they can handle well," Izo announces to the group before helping the Chief get up on the ox. It takes you a minute to realise that comment is aimed at you. You want to hide behind Nami. The embarrassment is too much. "You are right, Izo-sama," Kakashi acknowledges the man, entering from the front gate of the rest house with a bag. Itachi follows him in, carrying a similar bag to Kakashi's. "People should only do so much as their capacity allows," former Anbu continues, "or they might find themselves drowning in embarrassment for being defeated by some small no-name...sake?" Izo averts his gaze and gets up on the ox. So does Fukaboshi. The rest of the caravan stares blankly at Kakashi. You want to feel offended but the heaviness in your head does not allow you to hold your frown for long. "Sumimasen," Kakashi chuckles, raising one hand in defeat and smiling at you till his eyes close, "would you like to rest a bit more?" You sigh and shake your head. "I'm fine. Let's go. Let me just go fill my bottle with more water." You do not wait for an answer and walk towards the corner that has a little earthen tank for drinking water. Everyone walks out of the front gate, save for Kakashi and Itachi. Kakashi nods at Itachi before following the rest of the group. You notice him standing there alone, your pace slowing down as you remember waking up alone on the wooden settee, curled up under Itachi's cloak. Ah, the cloak. You take the cloak out from your backpack and bring it forward to hand it over to its owner. "Arigato, Itachi-san," you bow a little, "I hope I did not cause trouble last night." Itachi takes the cloak and hands you a bottle of a tea-like liquid. "Must have been hard," Itachi speculates, opening his cloak and wearing it right there, "having a nightmare like that." You find it hard to look away from his eyes. They seem sincere with the question. You bring the cold bottle to your cheeks to let the heat seep out from them faster. "Have it now." Itachi nods at the bottle, sending a little warm stir in your stomach, "It will help with the...hangover." You look at the bottle, then back at Itachi. A part of you swirls on the inside on seeing him patiently waiting there for you. Without another thought, you open the lid and chug the sweet, cold liquid down your throat, letting it absorb the heaviness and heat from your body. The relieved sigh after the last gulp brings a hint of smirk to Itachi's lips. Your head does tiny repeated nods, looking at the empty bottle before you smack your lips. "Good," you admit, looking up at Itachi, "does this come in orange flavour?" .

Today's journey goes the same way; through the forests and rocky lands. The adults are unbothered on their oxen. Kakashi and Itachi have taken their place as usual. Naruto is ahead of the caravan today, and so is Toge. Kozuki is right next to Kakashi, trying to start a conversation. And Kakashi indulges in it. Around noon the caravan passes through another forest with a low-hanging fog. You and Itachi are walking at the back of the caravan. You are glad not to be bothered by Toge today, but him not running up to you with a new piece of conversation seems to bother you a little. Something seems off. That little unsettling thought also melts away. Could also be your company. The thought makes you smile and steal a glance at the man next to you. And while doing so you do not realise Itachi has raised his hand to signal you to stop; running right into his arm. Kakashi has also signalled the caravan to stop. Naruto and Toge stand frozen in their paths on Kakashi's signal, looking for any signs out of the ordinary. Everyone can sense it. The silence of this forest is defeaning. A little too deafening. The birds that were chirping, the animals that were skittering along the forest floor, all have gone silent. Kozuki has already drawn her twin daggers. You have taken out a kunai but are not sure if you still remember how to use it. The elders are also on their guard, waiting for a movement in the silence. There is a snap of a twig somewhere in the forest. And before anyone can make sense of it, a shadow flies right past the Chief, leaving a scratch on his cheek. "Chief," Izo shouts, grabbing everyone's attention, except for Itachi's. Everyone rushes towards the Chief. Kakashi is slow, still overlooking his surroundings. Itachi on the other hand is grabbing your hand to stop you from running in the same direction as others. "Itachi wha-" You never get to finish your words. The hand that is grabbing yours, pulls you to him quicker than you can fathom, making you collide with his chest. What you do not see is the movement Itachi has already sensed from his left, right where you stood a second ago; and sensing the danger, he draws you closer to him with his hand on the small of your back, before summoning his crows. Six crows. Six assassins. Six daggers flying in the air with you as their mark. Itachi does not move. His eyes, on the other hand, are already swirling in that direction. "Mangekyo Sharingan." You hear the words reverberate through his chest for one second. And the next, all six assassins drop to the ground. .

"Chief, are you okay?" Fukaboshi shouts as he descends from the small hill he goes up to look for any other assassins. "I'm fine." "He's fine." The chief and Kakashi declare in unison. Izo comes down from his ox and glares at Kakashi. "Hatake Kakashi, you are lucky our Chief was not hurt or I would have personally slit your throat right here." Kakashi folds his arms over his chest. "What is stopping you from doing it right now, Izo-san?" You, Kozuki, Naruto and Toge turn to look at Kakashi, a little taken aback by the direction this is going in. You take a step to walk in Kakashi's direction but are stopped by Itachi once again. He shakes his head and slowly pulls you back to him. "Mind your tongue, Hatake," Fukaboshi growls at the White Fang. "I have been minding my tongue till now, Fukaboshi-sama. Because if I didn't, these comatose assassins would be dead by now and you would be taking home the bodies of six young kids who don't even know why they were trying to attack us." Silence. Kozuki looks at Izo before dashing towards the comatose assassins lying on the ground to remove their masks and gasp in disbelief. Toge follows. Both of them look back at Izo. "Izo-sensei, did you know about this?" Toge is the first to ask. You want to take a look at the assassins as well but do not move; partially because a voice inside you is gathering all the anxiety in your chest and telling you it has something to do with you. Partially because Itachi still holds your hand- loose enough to not hurt, tight enough to give you a sense of reassurance. And it hurts your heart to admit that his presence feels safe. The reason for that feeling is never discussed internally at that moment. Kozuki and Toge are now standing opposite Izo, even looking at Fukaboshi with questioning eyes. "This is not the time and place to argue amongst yourselves in front of other villages, Kozuki. Toge!" Chief orders. Toge relaxes his stance. Kozuki does not. "This is the only time and place to ask why the other 'villager' knows the identity of these assassins and why did our people attack our caravan?" Kozuki growls back. "KOZUKI!!!" Izo thunders, summoning fire in both hands. The sudden emergence of fireballs gives you a jumpscare, your instinct making you grab Itachi's arm with your free hand and wanting to hide behind him in his cloak. The Chief sends his favourite stick flying towards Izo to create a gust of wind so strong that the fire fizzles out before it returns to him like a boomerang. No one dares say a word. Kakashi does it out of respect. Naruto does it out of sheer surprise. Bamboo villagers do it out of fear of seeing their Chief in action. You and Itachi do not speak because both of you are busy gathering the thoughts suddenly scattered; due to your brains registering the warmth under each other's skin. "Answer the girl, Izo." Chief demands, "I do not like being kept in the shadows by my loyal hands." .

Naruto is rubbing his forehead a little too furiously. "So-" he pauses the rubbing to spread his fingers to signal a pause in the air- "to summarise, the bamboo village senseis raided our village's graveyard to find the legendary Whisperer or any clue that led to that legend but could not find any. So, they had intended on sending assassins to the village while taking away two of the strongest shinobis of Konoha, thinking that the assassins might have some luck getting it out of the Hokage. But then they found out the Whisperer was with us, they sent a message to the assassins to attack us and take the Whisperer. The plan failed because Kakashi-sensei and Itachi-aniki were too strong. And now Chief-sama is mad at Izo-sama and Fukaboshi-sama because he was kept in the dark." The caravan- which has now scattered in a five-meter radius- sits in silence. Izo and Fukaboshi sit together, at a respectable distance from their Chief. Kozuki stands over the six 'assassins' that have now woken up but dare not look at the woman for fear of being burned under her glare. Nami sits next to Naruto and Toge sulks while sitting and ripping the grass off the small hill Kakashi stands on. You and Itachi sit opposite Kakashi, the latter never letting go of his stoic manners while you are suddenly shuddering on the inside. Kakashi raises his shoulders and nods in affirmation, proud of his pupil for retaining so much of that heavy information. "So, the Whisperer is somewhere safe, Kakashi sensei? Or do we need to protect it still?" Naruto turns his head in question. Nami, who has been sitting next to Naruto, rolls her eyes and facepalms hard. Kakashi smiles. Naruto feels a smack land on the back of his head. "Ow! What?" He asks Nami, offended.

"The Whisperer is safe," Kakashi assures Naruto before he sends daggers in Izo's direction from the corner of his eyes, "but we plan to protect to the point of killing." "We never meant any harm to the chosen one, Chief," Izo finally speaks, never looking up towards the crowd, "we only wanted to do it right by the village." "The chosen one?" Naruto whispers the question in Nami's direction. Nami simply puts her index finger on her lips, quieting down the young ninja. "You could have simply asked for their help," the Chief grumbles, not wanting to look at his men. "Come on, Chief. No village will let an outsider know about their Whisperer, let alone let them help them out," Izo protests before he feels Fukaboshi's hand land on his arm to quiet him down. "Is that so, Kakashi?" the Chief is curious to know. Kakashi sighs. "I think that is up to the Whisperer to decide, right?" You are intently listening to Kakashi when you feel his gaze land on you. Basic instinct makes you avert your gaze, letting it land on Nami, who has the same question in her eyes as Kakashi. So do Izo, Fukaboshi and Toge. Even Kozuki. The cold that has seeped into your bones has suddenly grown intense. Your heartbeat is playing at a wild tempo. Your head turns to look at Itachi, craving for some kind of guidance. "Should we visit their village and see what the trouble is?" The birds seem to have started have started chirping again.

For you.

You want to melt into his affectionate voice and disappear from this place. Maybe into his equally considerate eyes? You nod at him before looking at the rest of the caravan. "Okay," you declare weakly. Fifteen minutes later, the caravan is back on track; this time a bit colder than before. The assassins have been sent home. Fukaboshi and Izo have been ordered to walk the rest of the way while Naruto, Nami and Kozuki have taken their places on the oxen. You and Itachi are still walking at the back. Itachi can sense a dark cloud surrounding you. It doesn't help when he sees you walk with furrowed brows and a heart rate akin to that of a rat. "Are you okay, Y/N-san?" Itachi asks in a whisper, bringing you out of your anxious thoughts. "Hmm? Yes....no. I don't know what to feel." "Y/N-san..." You look up at Itachi. "I know-" you are already interrupting him before he can speak- "you will keep me safe. So will everyone else. So will Konoha." Does not stop this dreadful feeling of being in the dark and having a target on your back. "Please know I will protect you. No matter what." His dark eyes seem to carry a resolve that stirs you to your core. And then his smile makes you forget what you were anxious about in the beginning. You smile back and nod. Itachi tries to rationalise why his chest suddenly feels lighter. Nami, on the other hand, wonders what all she would do to Itachi Uchiha if he ever dared to be anything but the reason for that smile on your face.

#itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi x y/n #itachi x you #itachi fluff #itachi smut #itachi fanfic #itachi uchiha fanfic #maladaptive ninja returns

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pickalilywrites · 11 months ago

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AOT actors AU. The entire cast at the awards show for the 10+ categories the Final Chapters and series were nominated for.

ty for requesting :)

yet to come

scouting legion. marley warriors. actors au. 3272 words.

“Everyone please welcome the one, the only, Mikasa Ackerman to the red carpet!” Eren Jaeger exclaims. He does an exaggerated, sweeping bow, as Mikasa steps onto the carpet and the cameras flash. His smile grows even bigger when he lifts his head up to see Mikasa roll her eyes at him.

“Do you have to do that every time we get on the carpet?” Mikasa asks with a laugh.

“Of course, I do. Bear with it this time. It’s the last time we’ll be on the carpet for Attack on Titan. You should savor this moment,” Eren replies. He gets back up on his feet, not bothering to dust off his suit or smooth out the wrinkles. Instead, he eagerly offers an arm to Mikasa who takes it with a gracious smile.

A little further down the carpet is Armin Arlert in a sky blue suit embroidered with ocean waves at the bottom of his blazer. He smiles nervously at the camera, still not used to the attention even though he’s been a celebrity for years. He looks relieved when Mikasa and Eren join him, his shoulders relaxing and his smile genuine once Eren throws an arm around him.

“Arlert, you should have worn something that would have shown off your tattoo,” Eren complains. Eren gestures towards his chest where his tattoo is — three flying birds away — just right above where his heart is. The dark lines of the tattoo are easily seen beneath the sheer fabric of his dark green shirt. Mikasa has a matching tattoo just above her collarbone.

“Ah, it’s difficult to show people anyway. It’s on my back,” Armin mumbles, his face flushed. After the last episode of Attack on Titan was filmed, the three main actors went to a tattoo parlor and got the tattoos as a symbol of their bond together after spending nearly a decade filming together. While Mikasa and Eren had gotten the tattoos in places that would be easy to display, Armin chose a place on his body that would be a little more subtle.

“It’s fine. It was meant to be discreet anyway. Stop teasing him,” Mikasa says, squeezing Eren’s bicep.

Sasha gazes at the trio enviously. “Why didn’t they invite us to get matching tattoos? Weren’t we all a squad together?”

“Fake friends, all of them,” Connie huffs in agreement.

“You guys can just get tattoos without them,” Jean points out, but Sasha and Connie shoot him glares that say they disagree.

“Then they wouldn’t be matching!” Sasha points out. She swishes the skirt of her green gown, a frown on her face. “I just got a tattoo of a potato to remember the show by.”

“I got a potato tattoo, too!” Connie says excitedly. He tugs up his shirt a few inches to show Sasha a lumpy potato that had been inked on his hip bone. He ignores the curious flashes from photographers. There are celebrities with worse photos.

“Wow, that’s amazing! We both got the same tattoos,” Sasha marvels. She looks at the tattoo on Connie’s hip and compares it to the potato that she had tattooed on her bicep, a look of genuine wonder on her face.

Connie and Sasha then turn to look at Jean at the same time, both wearing mischievous expressions on their faces. After working with them for several years, Jean knows that he’s not going to like whatever they’re going to suggest to him.

“No, absolutely not,” Jean says with a shake of his head before they can even speak. “I am not getting a tattoo of a potato just so we can match!”

“Please, Jean, please!” the two beg, chasing after him when he starts to run away.

“Wow, it must be fun being young,” Erwin chuckles. He had never been a flashy dresser, but he looks dazzling in his black suit. As always, he wears a bolo tie, the same one that his character wore on the show. After the show had ended, Erwin had been given the commander’s bolo tie as a memento.

Hanji pops up from Erwin’s side, a grin on their face. “Hey, it’s not like you’re old to begin with,” Hanji tells him.

Moblit shows up beside Hanji, exasperated and slightly out of breath. He has one hand on Hanji’s elbow even though he knows he’ll be unable to stop Hanji from running off. “Hanji, you need to slow down so that people can take photos!”

“Oh, they’ve taken photos of me before,” Hanji says with a wave of a hand. They gesture towards Erwin. “They’re not excited about me anyway. They’re more excited for Commander Eyebrows here. Wouldn’t you say he’s the most popular commander from the series?”

“I don’t know about that,” Erwin chuckles. “I’m not the one nominated for an award tonight.”

“Oh, it’s only for a supporting actor. It’s not like I’ll win anyway. There are a lot of other great nominees up for contention,” Hanji says with a laugh.

“But what if you do win? Wouldn’t it be a waste if they didn’t get a single photo of you?” Moblit asks. He tugs at the sleeve of Hanji’s blazer helplessly, trying to get them to turn and face at least one camera.

Hanji looks over at Moblit and decides to take pity on their long-time costar. They throw an arm over Moblit and wave at a camera cheerfully. “Alright, let’s take a photo for old times sake. I don’t care so much about immortalizing this night on the slim chance that I do win, but I’ll regret not having a photo of us together. Who knows when the next time we’ll work together will be?”

“You’re usually not this sentimental,” Moblit mumbles, the tips of his ears turning bright red as Hanji laughs and pulls him in even closer.

There's a ruckus at the red carpet entrance where celebrities are still arriving. Ymir is announcing Historia’s arrival loudly and proudly, waving their arms to capture the attention of every photographer at the ceremony. She’s much more theatrical in announcing Historia’s arrival than Eren was about Mikasa’s.

“Everyone, your queen has arrived!” Ymir shouts. She reaches into the front pocket of her blazer and throws a handful of confetti into the air. As it rains down, she pulls a party streamer from her pocket and blows into it.

“Ymir, you’re being embarrassing,” Historia scolds, but she’s laughing as she says it. She lets Ymir take her by the hand and doesn’t bother suppressing a smile when Ymir lifts her hand and kisses her fingers. Although she acts otherwise, she adores receiving this type of attention from Ymir.

“Well, what are you doing? Hurry up and take your photos!” Ymir says to the photographers, but they don’t have to be told twice.

Historia has always been a popular celebrity to photograph at red carpet events. She’s rarely left out of “best dressed” lists, and she looks absolutely ethereal tonight. Her hair is done up in an elegant bun and a sparkling tiara sits on top of her head. She wears a beautiful white gown, its long train trailing behind her along with the matching white cape that drapes around her shoulders. As she poses for the camera, a regal smile on her face, Ymir helps to fix her train when she changes into a different pose.

A few actors from the first season observe a limo pulling up at the red carpet. There are only a few more minutes before the awards ceremony begins, but Levi Ackerman exits the car with an untroubled expression on his face. He’s usually on time, but tonight seems to be an exception. With the same unbothered expression, he walks to the other side of the car and holds open the door for another passenger to get out.

“Hey, Petra! You’re late!” Auruo calls from the red carpet, waving Petra and Levi over.

“I got a flat tire! Levi had to give me a ride,” Petra says with a grin. She and Levi fix her train before she takes the arm Levi offers and allows him to lead her down the carpet to meet the rest of the actors that made up the original Squad Levi, as the fans so affectionately call them.

“Are you sure you two didn’t plan to show up together?” Gunther asks, eyeing Petra and Levi suspiciously. “You two look awfully cozy.”

“No, we planned it. I absolutely gave Petra’s a car a flat tire and made sure she would call me so we could carpool to the awards ceremony,” Levi says. His expression doesn’t change and his tone remains flat the entire time he’s speaking, so it’s difficult to tell if he’s joking.

“I honestly wouldn’t put it past you,” Eld chuckles. He takes a look at Petra’s emerald gown and then at Levi’s outfit. “You guys are even matching.”

“Us?” Petra says, looking over at Levi in surprise. She laughs and then pinches the cape that hangs on one shoulder of Levi’s suit. It’s a dark green velvet that’s almost black with golden feathers embroidered on the other shoulder and collar of the suit. “These aren’t even the same shade.”

“Well, you do look good together, a little too good for two people who didn’t intend to come to the awards show together,” Gunther says, stroking his chin exaggeratedly.

Some of the ushers are gesturing for the celebrities to hurry up and enter the building so that the ceremony can start even as the photographers beg the stars to stay so that they can take one more photo.

“We’d better go better they lock us out of the building,” Eld says.

“As if they’d ever lock the Captain out,” Auruo sniffs, strolling after Eld at an easygoing pace.

“The show ended months ago. How long are you going to keep calling me that?” Levi sighs.

“Forever,” Auruo says solemnly.

“You’ll always be our captain, Captain,” Petra teases and gives Levi’s arm a squeeze.

𓆰⭑𓂃๋࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑

Annie doesn’t bother sitting up in her seat or looking nice. She’s leaning on her armrest, her cheek resting against her hand as she looks on with a bored expression. It’s been a while since she’s attended an awards show as an Attack on Titan cast member since she had pretty much been shoved into a basement after season one. She thought that her return in the final few episodes would mean something more than sitting through a four-hour long awards show where they weren’t even winning any awards.

“Hey,” Annie whispers, poking Bertholdt in the side so that he jumps in surprise. She raises an eyebrow at him when he looks down at her, a startled expression still on his face. “Can you hunch over more so that you cover me? I hate seeing articles about I have a ‘bad attitude.’”

“I-I’m not really sure,” Bertholdt stammers, but his shoulders are already slouching and he’s sitting in a way that is sure to block Annie from anyone who might be trying to get a photo of her from the side. “Are you not enjoying yourself, Annie? It’s the last awards show we’ll ever go to for Attack on Titan.”

“Losing’s not as exciting the eighth time around,” Annie replies, and Bertholdt lets out a nervous laugh. She examines her nails that have been painted an icy, glittery white to match her dress. There’s a slight blue hue to the sparkling tulle of her dress that almost makes it look like crystal when it shines underneath the bright lights. She frowns when she sees Bertholdt’s back straightening out of habit. She reaches out suddenly, clutching his arm in a vicelike grip. “If you cover me, I’ll buy you a cake after this.”

“You know you can’t bribe Bertholdt like that,” Reiner says with a grin as he leans over Annie’s other side. He’s not nearly as tall as Bertholdt is, but he is much bigger than Annie and can shield her from the other side easily. “You can bribe me like that, though.”

“Two cakes,” Annie says, her back to Reiner. She holds two fingers up in Bertholdt’s blushing face. “I’ll give you two cakes if you cover me.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” Bertholdt mumbles, slumping back down as Annie smiles for the first time that night.

Pieck observes the trio in front of her amusedly. She turns to Porco and gives him an alluring smile. “Should I bribe you, too? Do you want cakes, Pokko?”

“Bribe me for what? Do you even want anything?” Porco asks. Like Annie, he’s never been one for awards ceremonies, but he doesn’t care half as much as what the press says about his lack of enthusiasm or the eventual “Porco bored as hell” memes that will inevitably pop up on the internet the next morning.

Pieck reaches out to poke him in the cheek. “I want you to eat cake. You look sooo cute when your cheeks are full. It’s adorable,” she coos.

“You don’t have to bribe me to eat. We can just eat together,” Porco sighs. “Preferably in a place less stuffy than this.”

“But don’t I look amazing in this dress?” Pieck asks with a playful flutter of her eyelashes, swishing the skirt of her silver-blue gown.

“Stop fishing for compliments. Everyone knows you look amazing in everything,” Porco replies, and Pieck giggles in response.

A singer — some up-and-coming popstar that Porco can’t recall the name of — is announcing the nominees for Best Drama, one of the ten categories that Attack on Titan is up for. The cast is only half-listening now, most of them over awards ceremony after attending them for nearly a decade. Many of the cast members are giggling over alcohol and gossiping in between award speeches. After losing so many of the awards they had been nominated for, they didn’t have high hopes for the remainder of the night, so it’s a surprise when Attack on Titan is called as the winner.

“We won? We won!” Sasha says. She’s the first to react, jumping down excitedly and pulling Jean and Connie up with her. She doesn’t even mind that she’s spilled her drink on the floor.

“Come on, come on!” Eren laughs. At first, he leads Armin and Mikasa up the steps of the stage with him, but he gestures the rest of the cast members to follow him as well. He notices the minor cast members remaining in the audience, and he gestures even more exaggeratedly for everyone to get up on the stage. “Come on, everyone! Everyone should be up here! We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for everyone!”

It’s the first time the entire cast of Attack on Titan has been gathered on one stage. Given the large cast size, it’s a tight squeeze to fit everyone, but they manage it.

“Why did you have to stand next to me?” Levi grumbles.

“Don’t be so cold, Levi. I thought we had gotten closer after filming together for so long,” Zeke grins. He scoots in even closer to Levi and throws an arm around the scowling actor’s shoulders.

“Close, my ass,” Levi says under his breath.

Even the members of the child cast — Gabi, Falco, Udo, and Zofia — are on the stage. Having only been a part of the last few seasons, they aren’t quite as used to awards ceremonies and are caught up in the glamour of it. Pieck and Porco have to put their arms around them, holding them back so that they don’t bounce around stage like pinballs.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” the children cheer.

The award — a trophy shaped like an angel with is arms extended as it holds a crystal orb — is nestled carefully in Eren’s arms. He waits for the audience and cast members to quiet down before he leans down and begins to speak.

“It’s been a long, long journey, but an unforgettable one,” Eren says with a gracious smile. In the corner of his eye, he sees Armin wiping away tears and he can’t help but laugh a little. “I don’t think anyone could have predicted the success that Attack on Titan would have when it first started. It has been an absolute blessing to be able to work with such an amazing cast and crew for the past decade, but it’s been an even greater blessing to have shared this experience with all the fans who have shown us nothing but love throughout our journey. Thank you to the writer for being able to share this story with the world, and thank you to the director and crew members for helping us bring this story to life. Because of Attack on Titan, we’re able to have memories to treasure for the rest of our lives, and it’s an honor to be recognized tonight.”

Eren and the rest of the cast bow as the audience erupts into applause.

𓆰⭑𓂃๋࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑

“Are you guys going to the afterparty?” Reiner asks. He points at each member that had made up the Warriors. “Afterparty? Afterparty? Afterparty?”

“Afterparty!” Pieck agrees cheerfully, touching her index finger to Reiner’s.

“Is it at Pixis’ again? He’s pretty spry for his age,” Porco muses.

“Can we come, too?” Gabi asks excitedly.

“I’m afraid not, Gabi. It’s an adult party with some no-no juice,” Reiner replies. He pats Gabi on the head sympathetically.

“Why can’t you just say alcohol like a normal person?” Porco grumbles.

“How about we have another afterparty tomorrow that everyone can go to?” Pieck suggests. She bends down so that she’s eye level with the rest of the children. “Maybe we can go to an amusement park altogether.”

“With everyone everyone?” Gabi asks, her eyes widening. Her excitement has been reignited.

“Yep, with everyone everyone,” Pieck says.

“Everyone, we’re going to an amusement park!” Gabi cheers even though no formal arrangements have been made, but her friends are already jumping up and down and celebrating with her.

Annie sidles up to Bertholdt. She tends to attach herself to his side, but it’s unclear whether it’s because his large frame easily hides her from any prying eyes or if it’s because she actually enjoys his company. It could be a mix of both.

“Do you know what the catering situation will be at Pixis’?” Annie asks.

“Ah, I think he usually leaves that up to Nicolo,” Bertholdt says.

Annie nods, her lips pursed as she mulls over Bertholdt’s answer. She typically passes on cast parties, but she does enjoy good food. It just so happens that Nicolo probably has the best taste out of the cast. Finally, she tells Bertholdt, “I think I’ll go this time.”

“R-really? That’s great!” Bertholdt stammers in surprise.

Eren smiles fondly at his fellow costars as they get ready to leave the awards ceremony. He’s not the type to cry, but even he’s getting a little tearful at the sight. “It’s really the last time we’ll be gathered like this, huh?”

“Well, not really,” Armin says. His eyes are still red from crying, but he offers Eren a comforting smile. “I think we’ll still see each other for years to come.”

Mikasa takes Eren’s hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “You said it during your speech, didn’t you? We made amazing memories together, but I don’t think we’re done yet. We still have many more to come.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Eren smiles amidst his tears. He squeezes Mikasa’s hand back. He’s thankful for all the years that they’ve spent together and even more thankful for the time they have yet to come.

#snk #mikasa ackerman #eren jaeger #armin arlert #actors au #modern au #requests #asks #answered #anon #anonymous

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