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idyllcy · 2 days

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sincerely, never mine

word count: 1.6k || pt2 of sincerely, never yours

warnings: manipulation and mild batshit insanity

summary: your flesh and blood. your shared flesh and blood

Tim glances at the collection of sketches left over, licking his thumb as he separates the papers, a wall of portraits of his old servants by you still bright as ever against the horrifying gold of it all. Is it a prison of his mind? Is it a prison of his life? What did he do to deserve all of this? Did you hate him just because he was an elite and you were not? Did you wish for your death so badly as to even kill yourself?

Even when the cleaners had gone to search for your body, it was gone.

Do you despise him to the point of doing anything in order to leave him with only a memory of you? Had he been any dumber, he would have ordered all traces of you to be erased, but that was not possible. He was to be next in line for the position of great leader. It would be him. It had to be him. So, he would smear the narrative surrounding your name and force you to become attached to him at the word, dubbing you his sweet songbird that he had so gracefully set free. It was easy to edit the footage and grant you the false freedom that you had refused when at your fingertips. You did not want to become one of them. You despised him, and he would make it so that you could never hear your own name without being reminded of his own.

If you would drag him deep into the trenches of the ocean, then he would kill you in the process.

Though, his love for you was not just on the surface. There was no way he would be able to play into everyone's perception of a heartbroken leader who refused to marry if he did not keep pieces of you in his study. The cage used to hold you and the chain around your ankle remain there, and he no longer watches and allows songbird performances at events he attends. He can not bear to think of you, everyone thinks. He plays the role of some lovesick heartbroken fool all for the sake that people would be sympathetic to him. It definitely helps that he happens to look like his adoptive father as well.

"The blood of the elite pass down pure!"

Surely.

Tim stares back at the papers in his hand, raising a brow.

"Is this new?"

"No, master." His aide raises a brow. "It has been there."

Tim frowns. You had never drawn yourself during the entire duration that you had been at the mansion, so how had this ended up in his pages?

"Do you know who drew this? This was not my bird." He frowns.

"It is the bird's sister, master. The one whom she had been torn away from?"

Tim blinks. No. This was not the sister of whom he found on the street and turned into his puppet in the newer generation of elites. It was not your father who had replaced your blood mother as the true elite that he had done. Everything he had done was to show that he loved his songbird and for the sake of his public image. The sketch of the young girl he now holds is not of you. It can not be. It had to have been someone else—

A child.

The sketchbook is new. Surely, this was not something he had originally held, and if so, then it had been sneakily hidden in the depths of his attic. The competition was in late January. This was purposely handed to him later than such. This was not dug up recently. this was deliberately given to him by someone, and he would make sure to find just which one of his maids had the guts to imitate your art style and even dream of creating a child that resembled both you and him. There is no person in the capitol insane enough to do such.

"Find me the maid that matches the portrait of the girl. One of the new hires must surely look as her. Then, check her DNA. We have the means." Tim hands his aide the image of the child. You were crazy enough to do it. Only you could match his insanity like that.

Oh, you sweet devil. A devil that would claw and tear at him until it would get to sink its nails into the muscle of his heart and rip it right out of the confines of his ribs.

First, the maid that had placed the sketchbook on his table is found, and Tim offers an abundance of wealth and a ticket out of poverty all to know where she had received the sketchbook. She mentions under the cushion of your cage, but he is well aware of the fact that could not have been possible. Had the money not been enough? Then she would learn her lesson in the confinement of the depths of darkness.

When Tim receives back the report on the new maid, he curls his lips upwards and gets a fine laugh out of it. Your blood and sweat. His blood resides in his mansion as a mere servant.

"The public must know." His lips curl upward menacingly as he laughs. You, his songbird, you, his siren, had offspring of his own blood and flesh. You had kept the child you knew would have sent you right back into his arms if you had survived. You are alive, surely — and if you were not, then he had his blood to take care of. You are truly cruel to place your shared blood in his hands. You must not love the child very much if that was the case.

Or, you know him better than anyone because of the image he has curated.

There are eyes everywhere regardless of how careful he is with hiring.

"I heard you called, master." The young girl stares into his eyes — the same piercing eyes that you once adorned. Truly, it was like staring at a younger version of you had it not been for the black hair the young maid received from him.

"Your mother was my songbird, no?"

"I am not aware of who my birthmother is. I was raised by your songbird's sister. The countess."

"And you were sent here to work as my maid?"

"I was informed that I could find my father here."

"Are you aware that you are of my flesh and blood?"

"I was not, master."

You are truly heartless.

Tim raises her to be the perfect successor, heartless and merciless with the people, watching as songbirds are killed year after year for only one to emerge victorious. With her, he fears nothing. All the blame could be pinned on the mistakes of her youth, and he would get to ruin your life through your shared flesh and blood. He is sure you are watching — whether that be in the depths of hell or from the peace of your bedroom. You could not have escaped, he tells himself. You are not dead. You can not be dead.

Your shared flesh and blood resemble you without a doubt, eyes like yours as though you were still there staring at him in the room when the songbird emerges victorious and he congratulates them. Is it cruel to use you for his narrative? Surely not. Is it cruel to use someone who had used him? There is no rest for the wicked, and it just so happened that neither of you are the good. He would make sure that the positive that could have come from your flesh would be worse than him. Surely, he would end up affecting more people in the end.

He would dig his own claws into the hole where your heart is supposed to be and personally make sure that you would see the demise of everyone around you just because you had left him. Your sister, father, and every single person he had ever cared about would be dragged into the trenches that you have forced him into just with your voice. One after the other, they fall ill to some mystery and pass away, and no one could pin it on Tim because he had adored both you and your family oh so much.

Tim is truly... is there truly rest when you have become the devil himself?

That is, until he is bedridden early in his life, stuck as his offspring tends to him by hand, always overseen by the doctor. He is on the way for recovery, his doctor says. Though, not that he worries. He has raised his flesh and blood to be a perfect copy of him. He is in good hands. There is no betrayal from someone who has been given everything and forced to stay obedient. There is no—

no, that's not quite the case.

"I am my mother's flesh, father's blood."

And Tim notes the way that his flesh is no longer of your eyes. They are now blue as his own, and in the very last moments of his death with no health to even yell, he is forced to stare himself in the eye rather than you. The way his head is held under the water reminds him of your singing all too much, bubbles slipping past his lips as his lungs flood with your song, hands thrashing to push himself up despite the longing to see you. He can not die yet. He must finish what he started and rip your life to shreds. He must destroy the very thing that you care about.

His vision goes dark, and he mumbles a prayer to you.

But he isn't dead.

No, not yet.

Even if it takes an eternity to recover, he will find you and sink those claws into your skin.

Just you wait.

#is this really a tim drake x reader? you decide #tim drake x reader #☾.fics #tim drake #reader insert

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faithfromanewperspective · 3 months

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gotta say it now bc i've been spending so much time in the 5sos fandom where we're all super protective of our creators: I know supporting an author isn't the same. I know cassie doesn't put herself out there in the same way as zillennial musicians. and I know there are things people in the fandom disagree with her on and I'm not here to minimise that.

but everywhere I interact with the fandom and it's been like this for years now, jokes and things about how old we'll be when the series is finished and yeah it's funny to some extent but as someone who knows what pressure to create does to me, who knows how much it dries my creativity, she's on tumblr. she's seeing some of this. and we gotta tow this line and be careful: careful as to how we're treating her and also careful for the sake of fans ourselves--we don't want to be acting in ways that incidentally result in content being delayed and lower quality because she's been burnt out for ages and we're just giving so much pressure to read twp, read tbvotd and read whatever else she'll doubtless come up with after because she loves the shadowhunters world, she always ends up writing more for it even when she says she won't. and aren't we lucky for that? we love the tsc universe. and if we're old by the time it's all finished, that's the result of her loving this universe she created so much that she just kept writing for it. it's a blessing.

and maybe i sound like an aussie who grew up under a rock in the middle of the bush (which I am) saying this but. when my only queer representation was a singular jacqueline wilson book until i was 14 and read malec's story in tmi, when i've never seen another author portray such a diverse range of realistic neurodivergent characters, when i'm a half white poc with grandparents from borneo which is partially in indonesia and magnus is indonesian, I do find in myself some appreciation for her: the author who created a world of characters I see myself in and I do hope she's okay and I want her to recover from burnout, I know how much it sucks, and it still kinda baffles me how she'll share bits and pieces of her mental health experiences (and she's my parents' age!! and a lot more emotionally aware than most gen x's I know which I so appreciate) and we don't, largely, as a fandom, seem to care. like i get we're in a fandom for the characters and stories she created not her, herself, but like ???

I love seeing the artist behind the art they create. I love it when they're human and imperfect and yet we can still see the good in them that they put out to impact the world with, a legacy, and when we see their imperfections and we can acknowledge this all together, acknowledge and come together for the fans who have been hurt by these mistakes, oversights, harmful views, that are mixed in with the good. and I love it when we can still come together after this and be like, I support this creator, I want them to be okay, I want them to keep discovering love and I want to see it in their writing. and this I don't think should only apply to conventionally attractive twentysomething men who sing! maybe i'm biased in the observation that it is usually where I see the most artist support. or maybe it's actually a trend and as feminists, as people who see our dignity in more than being fuckable and more than being Perfect Leaders, we can do better.

and so i don't care when the wicked powers come out. i'll have finished my masters' degree before I finish that book series and hear the rest of kit and ty's story i started reading in high school. but that's okay. if that's what it takes to get a good story. i don't care when we get the final tec book, even though i've got two copies of the other two on my bookcase and don't know if the cover art will even be the same when the third one comes out. because we love pretty timely things but we're not owed them. and I have to say, this isn't completely true. I do care. I do want to know. I do want to experience that joy. but much more than that I want cassie to write at her own pace and I want her to enjoy it and I want her to keep discovering her own creativity and the proof is honestly in the pudding that every artist I've seen decide to do things at their own rate has ended up way more productive than before they decided that. and artists are people after all. it's what makes their art so good and forms the basis for the fandoms we're in. so I hope she knows it's okay to take her time.

#cassandra clare #tsc #tmi #tid #tda #twp #tec #the wicked powers #tlh #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #again. i really don't want to say 'she's perfect and can never hurt people'#but the point of this is that she still deserves to have freedom over her schedule and we can do our part by not being demanding to the #extent that we forget that she's human. that she's poured so much of herself into the characters and worlds she's made and she deserves to #keep looking after herself even when that means we don't get what we want as soon as we want it. we can be a loyal fandom

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write-and-wander · 4 months

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That Night

Astarion x Female Tav/Reader Description: A slowed-down, in-depth retelling of the aftermath of the Cazador fight; looking deeper into the thoughts and feelings of Astarion and his lover. Warnings: Violence and trauma mentions

She loved him.

That was all she knew. That was all she could think of, in this moment.

He had finally conquered his demons- no, his own hell. It was over, now, and the story could continue however he wanted it to. And instead of jumping head-first into any direction, he looked to her for guidance. Because despite the past that drove him to this point, the only future he cared about was one she would be a part of.

So he looks to her, bloodied Cazador at his feet, fate-sealing dagger in hand, heart laid out in a state of vulnerability completely unknown, and asks her what to do.

She looks back at him, her own hands bloodied from the exhausting battle they had just endured, and knows that she loves him. She loves him. Just as he is. She wouldn’t wish him any other way.

She can see the fear, yes. The drive for power, and revenge, but even more than that; the ecstasy of being able to take the one thing Cazador wants after he had taken so, so much from Astarion- the perfect act of justice.

And she asks him only to take it from Cazador- she asks him not to take it for himself. She asks him to keep his freedom, rather than submit himself to the shackles of madness that unprecedented power would demand.

And his open, bleeding heart is suddenly soft.

Though he may not get to take and keep, he is more than happy to take and watch evil lose.

So he does.

With shaking body and ragged breath, he drives the dagger into Cazador’s chest as a mortician’s hammer drives nails into a coffin; sealing death. The death of Cazador, the purest form of evil he has ever known. The death of who he could have been, in all the corrupt power he could have basked in. The death of life as he once knew it, defined only by the black and white chess game between power and powerless. He stabs straight through Cazador’s heart, and again, and again, and again; a desperate frenzy that will never quite feel like enough, until he is forced to stop.

His body fails him in its divine relief. Decades of pain, fear, and torture are at last released with his final act. He will never know Cazador’s pain again. His will never have to run from the monster that chases him again. He will never be a toy or a lure again. He is free, and he won, and he is still, somehow, despite everything, in tact. Inexplicable tension is finally let go completely. He collapses to his knees, wails ripping through his chest and echoing against the stone cold walls that surround him.

She watches as her very heart weeps in a grief she could never even begin to comprehend. The heart that beats in her chest seems to twist in its own turmoil, and a sympathetic hand- or perhaps the hand of a friend desperate to grip something else in an attempt to maintain their own balance- finds her shoulder. Her own tears stream down her face, as do the tears of the friends who helped them make it here.

Astarion’s “siblings-” not by blood, but certainly by bond- rush over to him, their faces contorted in concern combined with utter disbelief.

Her mouth opens for a moment; she wants to ask them to stop, to give her heart space to breathe, to please, gods, don’t touch him, but the words stick in her throat. She’s too choked up to speak, but gratitude sinks in as she realizes that this is their moment of blessed freedom, too. They shared in their pain together- they deserve to share in their relief together, too.

He steels himself as they approach, and she sees Astarion the Upper City Magistrate show himself as the suddenly gentler elf seamlessly steps into a place of leadership. The others look to him in a sudden cry for a compass- they are free, but they are left without direction; and he so easily gifts it to them. He gives them direction, and offers what little encouragement he can to the now-freed slaves. Thousands of spawn are suddenly given a second chance, now that the pale elf had changed their fates- a thankless act that outweighs his sins tenfold.

It isn’t until they leave to fulfill their last charge that he returns to his lover. He hesitantly takes her hands in his, and she grasps them with the same gentleness in confidence. He had done it. It was over.

There’s an instinct in her to hug him; to enfold herself around him in an act of love, and yet, she knows her beloved vampire better than that. He will come and effortlessly wrap himself in all that she is when he is ready. Instead, she gently presses kisses onto his bloodied hands.

He looks to the companions that now stand beside her- his friends, who have so selflessly fought for this moment despite his outward reluctance to fight for them.

Though he wouldn’t be able to say it out loud until years later, he loves them. That is what he feels in this moment, in its purest form. Though it is seamlessly woven into waves of gratitude and grief, he feels love. For all of them. For her.

Later that night, after the sun goes down and most of the others had retired to their tents, Astarion does, indeed, find himself in his lover’s tent. Later still, after a long and tear-filled conversation periodically interrupted with near-silent fits of weeping, Astarion buries himself into his lover’s arms. He cries until trance overtakes him.

And all through that night, she holds him.

And the sun rises. And a new day comes. And they will find out all it holds, together.

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 9 months

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"Fine, I'll go with you." Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F! Reader

Summary: It was exciting waiting for your boyfriend amongst the sea of families. If only your boyfriend didn't have a whole family waiting for him too. Thank god Lt. Seresin is there to save the day.

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F! Reader

Warnings: Language, Cheating (not Jake!), protective Jake, asshole ex-boyfriend, military inaccuracies I'm sure.

Cross Posted on AO3

The homemade sign feels heavy in your hands. Your heart pounds steadily in your chest as a sea of blue uniforms begins to unload from the massive carrier. It feels incredible to be drowning in this sea of love and reunions. Families crying in each other's arms as they make it through another deployment, another separation.

It would only be a matter of time before you could feel the same euphoria. You step on your tip toes, trying to seek him out when someone stumbles into you from behind. “Sorry,” she shakes her head, “I’m a mess right now.”

She certainly looks it, a newborn strapped to her chest in a carrier and a toddler barely holding on, trying to bolt every chance he gets. “No worries,” you’re quick to reply, glancing down at the large sign and balloons in her hand.

You pause, reading and re-reading it over again. Nicolas Arias. There is no doubt you could be reading it wrong and when you get a glance at the toddler again, your stomach churns. He is a spitting image of Nick…your Nick. You carefully fold up the sign and go to turn when you hear the little boy shout, “DADDY!” at the top of his lungs.

Why you glance back, you don’t know but your chest aches when you see him, his smile blinding as he bends down to pick up the little boy. “Hi buddy,” you hear him shout, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around. He looks back at the woman, his eyes softening at the bundle against her chest, “and hello Princess,” he coos, “nice to meet you, I’m your daddy.”

The tears spring to your eyes, and you quickly suck in a deep breath when his eyes lift to meet yours. He pauses, a deer caught in the headlights, you can see it, the raw panic on his face. Before you turn and walk away, you’d be damned if you were going to ruin this happy homecoming. While Nick is a fucking cheating bastard, and you would certainly be sending an anonymous letter to his wife later, they didn’t deserve this today.

All around you is love and reunions, but instead, you just feel sick. The parking lot is jam-packed and you look around before stepping onto the road, letting out a gasp when someone grabs your arm and quickly pulls you back into a broad chest. A truck roars out of the lot, a handful of sailors inside shouting about freedom and shots.

“Fuck,” you turn, taking in the man before you, he’s gorgeous; with blonde hair and eyes that look like the sea after a storm, “thank you,” you whisper, taking a step back when you realize you’re still in his arms.

He smiles, but it doesn’t really meet his eyes, “not a problem, darling,” his accent surprises you, maybe Texan with a slight twang. He points down at the sign crumbled in your hand, “Didn’t find who you were looking for?”

“Oh,” you glance at the sign, tossing it into the nearby trash can, “I found him alright. Along with his wife, newborn, and toddler.”

He grimaces, “What a fucking turd waffle.”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes, “a turd waffle?”

He grins, “if the shoe fits.” Suddenly you notice a figure rushing towards you and you groan, turning quickly away mumbling obscenities under your breath.

“Sweetheart,” Nick runs to your side, pulling you in for a hug, but you stay stiff as a board. “I can explain everything.” You step out of his arms putting some distance between you, the mystery man steps up behind you, towering over you like a looming bodyguard.

“I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other Nick,” you wrap your arms around your waist, “seeing you married with two kids was enough of an explanation for me.”

Nick stares down the man behind you, “Hey buddy, can you give us some privacy?”

“Lieutenant Commander Seresin to you, Ensign,” he stands straighter, Nick pailing as he recognizes the name, “and I’ll leave when the lady tells me to.”

“Please don’t go,” you whisper stepping back closer into his arms, one of his massive hands resting on your waist, strong and sure.

“Seems like she’s made up her mind,” he grins, confidence coming off him in waves. “Why don’t you go back to your family and save this young lady the trouble of putting up with any more of your bullshit.”

“I’ll go when I’m good and ready,” Nick takes a step closer, reaching for your arm, “sweetheart you just have to let me explain.” A wall of man blocks his path, “get the fuck out of my way,” Nick seethes, “I want to talk to my girl.”

You step around the Lieutenent, “I’m not your girl anymore, you’re married for Christ's sake, with TWO kids,” you hold up two fingers for emphasis.

“It didn’t bother you before,” he shrugs, “why should it now?”

“I didn’t fucking KNOW,” you shout, drawing attention from several others around you, “do you really think I’d be here standing like an idiot waiting for you if I knew you were married?! Do you really think I would be dating you or sleeping with you, if I had any idea you had a wife?!”

Nick looks around at the onlookers before letting out a scoff, “I knew you were a whore. Looks like you already replaced me, ain’t that right? And with someone of higher rank.” He laughs, “Keep this up baby and you can fuck an Admiral before the year ends.”

“Stand down, Ensign Arias,” your protector steps closer, his jaw clenched, “go back to your family and leave now. Before I court-martial your ass.”

“What the hell for?” Nick shouts.

“Harassing civilians, disgracing the uniform, threatening an Officer, the list goes on and on.” Nick pales before he spits at the ground.

“You can have her,” he glares at you, “wasn’t that good of pussy anyways.” The Lieutenant takes a threatening step closer, and you grab his arm while Nick scurries away like a rat.

You both watch him walk away before you let go of his arm, “thank you,” you whisper, feeling the tears well up in your eyes, “I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t here.”

“He really is a turd waffle,” he mumbles and you burst out laughing, the tears spilling down your cheeks. He hesitantly lifts a hand, brushing the tears off your cheeks, and you lean into his palm closing your eyes, his thumb brushing back and forth. “Jake,” he mumbles and you slowly open your eyes, blinking at him, “My name is Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin.

You tell him your name and he repeats it back, the words like honey on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you,” he repeats it again making you shiver. “Would you like to join me for a drink? I know this really great Navy bar called the Hard Deck, and I was going to meet up with a few of my fellow officers and their families.”

“One question,” you step closer, and his hand drops from your cheek, moving to your waist as he whispers anything under his breath. “Are you married or currently seeing anyone? No secret mistresses or lovers I should be concerned about?”

He grins, tugging you by the hooks in your denim jeans closer his lips ghosting over yours, “no, ma’am, I’m a one-woman type of man. And right now,” he presses his lips to yours in a soft kiss, stars exploding across your vision, before pulling back, “I’d like that woman to be you.”

“Fine, I’ll go with you, but only on one condition,” you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down and closer to your lips.

“What’s that?” he smiles, all the way up to his eyes, glancing down at you like you’re the only one around for miles.

“You do that again,” and he does.

A/N: Comments are appreciated, and yes this is me begging.

#jake hangman seresin #Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader #Female Reader #Top Gun #top gun maverick fanfiction #Autumn Writes

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blackopals-world · 1 year

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I liked your ´ I Found Home ´ Twisted Wonderland fic could I PLEASE request a part three where everyone else finds out about her son and her books! I have a feeling some of those boys would be a blushing mess. PLEASE I NEED MORE I CAN ´ T GET ENOUGH! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEEEAAASEEE!

I Found Home

Part 3

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 4) (Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)

Implied relationship

Leona

"The Tracker"

It's usually very busy in the kingdom this time of year. Handling the harvest, taxes, keeping an eye out for droughts, and other things that pop up. These things are part of his responsibility as the official grand duke. His brother gave him a good chunk of territory after it was confiscated from a group of inept nobles. He stated that Leona more than deserved it after uncovering their faults.

Leona gained the freedom to rule how he desired with no input or control from his family or counsel. The people respected him and his knights swore loyalty to him.

Ruggie became an aid obviously and is still the only one to keep up with Leona. Despite Jack being strong enough to become a knight he became a botanist.

While Leona is not king, he still basically is one. The only time he's ever had to follow orders is when his brother begs him to attend functions in the capital, which Leona usually ignores.

Recently Cheka started staying at Leona's castle for the summer to learn how his uncle rules his region. Thus ends the lion's peaceful days.

Ruggie sometimes takes the cub to his old neighborhood to learn of its past. The slums no longer exist as Leona created a project to help those living there and created new jobs to support them. The idea wasn't his alone. It came about when Yuu proposed a plan to help Ruggie community. She knew a few examples from her own world to solve this problem and together they made a plan.

She was an incredible woman. Falena had insisted had she become his sister-in-law.

"Listen to me brother, you don't meet a girl like that every dynasty. You need to do something now or never."

Now did become never. Leona learned the hard way that lazing around doesn't stop the world around you from moving forward with or without you. Without Yuu.

Maybe she would have stayed if he asked. He doesn't know. He moved on.

Opportunity was a window and it was closed until someone opened a door. A gateway in this case. There was a way to see her again.

"I don't know how you do this. One moment you're a velcro baby and won't let me put you down the next you're gone." Yuu watched Grimm bolt for the sandbox.

Yuu had gotten the go ahead from Grmm's doctor and social worker to introduce him to the outside world. He was finally secure enough to interact with people his age.

He liked the sandbox which meant extra laundry to Yuu. She checked her bag for a change of clothes when she was stopped by someone.

"Excuse me? Miss I couldn't help but ask. Are you the author of the Lost Princess series?" The woman asked.

"Yes, actually I-" Yuu was cut off.

"It's so amazing to meet you! My children love your books and I love that new romance novel you put out. I heard you were working on a t.v show based on the kids books." She asked in excitement.

"Yes, a network reached out about it but I wanted it to suit my vision and a lot is going on with it. Besides that, I have a family and I can't be away from my son for long." Yuu explained.

"I see, I understand completely. My girls need to be watched like hawk. How old is yours?" The mother seemed to switch gears the moment kids were brought up. She was clearly an attentive mother as she occasionally looked over to where her daughters were on the swing.

"He's 4 now. Over there in the sandbox." Yuu said pointing towards the box except he wasn't there.

The other mother looked around questioning.

"I saw another kid other there a minute ago with a small boy. Do you know if he has a friend here?" She said with a thick edge to her voice.

"No, he doesn't know anyone but me. He hates strangers! Grimm?! Grimm?!" Yuu ran for the sandbox and yelled for her some.

The other mother called for her daughter's and told them to stay close as she called for Grimm as well.

In the back of her head Yuu knew what was going on. She had read stories about predators using kids to lure in other victims. Her son was kidnapped!

Leona stood at the door of a small house in a quaint neighborhood. The house had to be hers. The scent of desert roses and clove was everywhere. That was her favorite perfume.

He knocked a few times but there was no reply.

Cheka(who insisted on coming and Leona had no choice anyways) investigated everything around until a door slammed open in the neighbor's yard.

"Scram you little urchin! Stay out of my garden! She yelled at Cheka as he rooted around the flower bed.

"Who are you calling an urchin?" Leona growled as Cheka took cover behind his uncle.

"You let your son tear up people's yards? You are no better than that hussy that lives here. Are you dropping off another one of her noisy bastard kids? Keep him! I don't want another one running around here!" The old woman ranted.

Leona doesn't advocate punching old women's remaining teeth out but this woman was making him a believer. But he wasn't going to do that in front of Yuu's house in public.

"I don't know who you're calling a hussy but I'm looking for Yuu. Since you are already so nosy you must know right?" Leona asked as politely as he could muster.

"Like I'd tell a thug like you." The old woman said.

"That's fine. If you can't say anything useful you might as well not speak." He said casting a silence curse on the old bat.

The crone tried to flap her gums more but nothing came out as she tried to yell and rant some more.

"Cheka, it's time to practice tracking." Leona picked up a trail that did go too far. Yuu must be on a walk.

Cheka excitedly bounded off with Leona a few yards behind.

When they made it to a park Cheka sped off before Leona noticed.

The old woman said Yuu had a kid. Damn things did change. He should have expected it, kind of. He knew she liked kids and would volunteer to babysit Cheka all the time but knowing she started a family was unexpected.

Was he jealous...no. Why would he be? She didn't owe him loyalty especially when she believed they would never meet again. They weren't even together. So what if he never saw anyone after her and turned down every engagement? She owed him nothing. It was enough to spend what time they did have together.

"Look!" Leona snapped out of his revelry as Cheka brought a small boy over to him.

The boy was small, looked to be less then half the age of Cheka, and held a bright yellow plastic hand shovel.

"Oh no." Leona already had a bad feeling about this. "Cheka what do you think tracking means?"

Cheak puffed out his cheeks as he picked up his new friend from under under his arms like how a toddler picks up a cat.

"I followed the scent and I found him." The cub replied.

The boy had little awareness of what was happening thankfully. But Cheka had a point, the boy smelled like black clove, cinnamon and faintly of desert roses.

"Cheka you can't just take a kid from a playground, even if you are a kid yourself. Put him back before I get called a kidnapper." The instant 'kidnapper' left his mouth the latent survival instincts in the boy went off and he sprinted for the bush and disappeared.

"Shit." Leona muttered.

"Shit." Cheka echoed.

"Not you! Find him before his mom-"

"Grimm! Grimm! Where are you!" Yuu's voice echoed across the park.

He's going to die. He's going to die and I'll all be this brat's fault.

He wasn't overreacting, he is under-reacting. Leona has seen this woman do a hundred-meter dash just to hit her friends upside the head. She once tried to fight a referee after getting a red card and it took Jack and Sebek to pry her off.

Leona managed to find Grimm as he climbed up a tree.

"I swear if you fall from there," Leona growled under his breath.

Cheka tried to follow him up but Leona yanked him back down by the back of his shirt.

"You stay here, go distract Yuu." Leona ordered

"Aye!" The cub mock saluted before bounding off again.

Yuu began to feel lightheaded as she searched every corner of the playground. She asked every parent and child if they had seen her son.

She pulled out her phone and began dialing for emergency services. Just before she pressed the call button she was ambushed from behind.

Two arms circled her stomach and squeezed. Yuu yelped and grabbed one of the hands. Prickly claws dug in firmly.

"Nanna!" A familiar voice called for her.

It was Cheka! Little Cheka wasn't so little anymore. Well, he was taller at least and was still very much a cub.

If Yuu wasn't so frantic she would have squeezed him to death tighter than Floyd but a mother's mind isn't so easily swayed. Grimm first, reunion second.

"That's the boy from earlier!" The other mom said "He took your son!"

HE WHAT?!

Before Cheka could run he was grabbed by the ear.

"Cheka Kingscholar!" Yuu yelled. "Sorry about all this trouble Amaranth. I'll handle the rest from here."

Amaranth laughed a bit leaving Yuu to parent.

Cheka yelped as he struggled to escape.

"Sorry Nanna! I just thought it was funny and I wanted to play with cousin!" Cheka squirmed "He's with uncle I swear!"

Yuu dragged the cub by the ear back to where Grimm was still in the tree.

Currently, Leona was trying to grab the boy while Grimm reflexively hissed and spat like a feral cat. Grimm only did that when he was really scared. One of the side effects of being locked in a basement with only a cat for company for who knows how long.

"I said I was going to hurt you, now stop trying to bite me!" Leona tried to grab him by the collar.

"Mama!" Grimm called out as he dodged Leona again and climbed higher.

"I'm trying to take you to her! Do you want to be left up here?" Leona managed to snag the boy this time by the waist and hauled Grimm up in a position that would keep them stable but not in biting range.

"Grimm no bitting! It's safe! He won't hurt you!" Yuu called out.

Leona worked his way down and as he made it to the lowest branch dropped the squirming toddler in Yuu's waiting arms.

Immediately the boy wiggled around to wrap his arms around his mother like a koala.

"I'd really like an explanation for what's going on but I'm tired and Grimm is overdue for a nap." Yuu sighed.

Leona agreed wholeheartedly.

"So you missed me, my prince?" Yuu laughed as she pulled the leftover leaves and twigs out of his hair.

'My prince' he remembered when she used to call him that when she wanted to tease him. The boys couldn't hear at least, they exhausted themselves and were currently napping.

"No one has called me prince in years. Most just say, Grand Duke." Leona sighed in relief as Yuu combed out his locks.

"Fancy~" Yuu sang before her tone shifted "You've changed, Leo."

"That's your fault. You changed me."

Yuu couldn't pretend he was lying. She wouldn't leave Leona alone back then.

She recognized that Leona was in pain and asked-begged him to get help. She taught him to recognize his feelings so he could explain what was wrong. It was hard for him to accept that help but in time he improved.

Yuu forced him to eat healthier and made excuses everytime she wanted him to do something more then sleep.

"These guys keep harassing me. I can't go alone." She'd say poking him in the ribs until he caved.

When they had bad days. They'd sleep cuddled up beside each other.

"You don't need to fix me." He'd complain but he didn't mean it.

"I'm not. I just don't want to see someone else go through what I did." She said.

Leona wasn't an idiot. He knew she was more fragile than she let on but it never mattered to him. She was the strongest person he knew. So he believed in her words and got his life together.

"Change is good. I've changed too." Yuu responded.

"I've noticed. So where's the dad? Not in the picture?"

"Never was. I found Grimm and took him home. He has his quirks but he's a good kid."

"I've noticed, his bites were just full of kindness." Leona said holding out his nicked hand.

Yuu rolled her eyes, he could heal himself with magic but was being dramatic.

"He was just scared. Besides his teeth aren't nearly as sharp as Cheka's." Yuu scoffed as she intertwined their hands.

While the adults got cozy the kids were up to trouble.

"So this book is about the king of beasts?" Cheka asked puzzled.

"It is about the lost princess and how she met the king of beasts. He wanted a war with the enemy kingdom and worked hard to win. The princess taught him that the war was dumb and he should be a good king instead." Grimm said flipping the pages.

"And then they get married and live happily ever after?" Cheaka asked.

"No! The princess has to go home and goes to the underwater city to get help from the sea folk. The princess can't get married." Grimm argued.

"I dunno, I think the princess is going to marry the beast." Cheka smirked.

"What do you mean?" The boy asked tilting his head.

"Ask your mom. We are going to be cousins soon. Shihihi" Cheka cackled using Ruggie's laugh.

"Mom?" Grimm scrunched his nose in thought before realizing "MAMAAAA!"

Grimm cried as he stumbled down the stairs.

Tag Lists:

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#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #twst leona #leona x y/n #twst cheka #twisted wonderland cheka #cheka kingscholar

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mimsynims · 8 months

Text

Fool For Love

part 2

~~~

part 1

~~~

Author’ Note: For one, I’m still on my first play-through and this will definitely stray from canon, but hopefully some things will give a nod to some of the actual events in the game. (Also there will be no Wyll or Minthara because I haven’t gotten to know them for…reasons 👀)

(As for when this takes place, I’m thinking around late act 1, early act 2-ish)

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… Now you do. And the question is, how will you deal with it?

~~~

“Have you been crying, Tav?”

Fuck. You should’ve known Karlach would notice. “Yes,” you admit, knowing it’s no use lying. “Nightmare,” you add, because it’s not entirely untrue.

“Ah, yeah, that’ll do it.” The hand Karlach places on your shoulder feels reassuring. Supportive without a speck of judgement. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it, you know.”

You smile, because you don’t know what you have done to deserve such a great friend like her. “Be careful,” you laugh, “otherwise I might take you up on that offer.” Gods knows you’re in need of someone to confide in. It’s just that you’re not a hundred percent sure she’s not one of Astarion’s other conquests.

“My tent is always open for you, Tav. I hope you know that.” Karlach’s soft smile quirks into a grin as her eyes shift to look at something over your shoulder. “Oh, hi, Fangs. Trying to sneak up on Tav, are you?”

“And a good morning to you too, Karlach.” You don’t need to see him to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “Of course not, I just did not want to break up what looked like an intimate moment.”

Strange. Underneath the snark, Astarion almost sounds… jealous. That doesn’t make the least bit sense, so you brush the notion away.

“Nothing intimate about it,” you press out. “Just Karlach being a good friend.” One deep breath, and then you turn around to face him. It takes all of your determination, but you make sure to keep a neutral expression. Except you catch his eyes narrowing, and too late you realise that he, too, notices the small but telling signs of the tears you shed not even an hour ago. Unlike Karlach, he keeps his thoughts to himself, because of course he does. You’re not even sure why you’re not surprised, but deep down you knew he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

You momentarily stop breathing when the truth slams into you like a blow to the gut: he doesn’t care enough to ask. Or if he does, asking could mean complicating things he wants to keep simple.

“Tav?”

You hear Astarion addressing you, but you’re stuck inside your own head now. Of course he doesn’t want to know. Freedom and survival are the key factors driving Astarion in everything he does, and getting entangled with you beyond pleasure and safety — and feeding — could compromise both of those things. While he probably does consider you a friend at this point, it’s only surface-level. In all honesty you can’t blame him. After all he’s been through, trust doesn’t come easy to him.

You could hold a grudge for the lies he told you, but the truth is, you went into this with your eyes wide open. You could’ve called him out on it, but you were so curious about what it would lead to that you let him believe that you were fooled.

“Tav?”

A cool hand on your arm snaps you back to the here and now.

“Sorry, did you say something?” He’s eyeing you warily, and you wonder fleetingly how he would react if you told him the half-lie about the nightmares.

Astarion’s brow twitches as he opens his mouth to speak. “Tav–”

“Gooood morning, everyone!”

Gale. Of course. “Good morning, Gale.” Not letting yourself ponder what Astarion might’ve been meaning to say, you fling yourself at the opportunity of a new topic of conversation as if it was the last potion of healing in an otherwise empty pouch. “Aren’t you chipper this morning?”

“I saw a falling star just before going to bed last night, and it felt like a sign that this day would be an exceptionally good one.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Speaking of.” Lowering his voice, Gale slides closer to your side. “I was thinking of doing some stargazing tonight. Want to join me? The sky should be clear enough for it.”

You can feel Astarion’s eyes on you. “Sure,” you hear yourself say, immediately regretting it.

“Perfect!”

“What’s perfect?”

Saved by the Tiefling. “Gale says tonight should be perfect for stargazing.” When you turn around to face her, there’s no Astarion in sight. That should feel like a relief, and yet, you can help but worry. Why that is is beyond you, but the guilt is still there, confusing you even more.

“That’s not–”

“Why don’t you join us? We can ask the rest of the group too.”

“Excellent idea, Tav!”

“Mm, yes. Excellent.”

Gale sounds disappointed, but it’s better this way. If you were more callous you would use Gale to try to get Astarion out of your system and out of your heart, but that is out of the question now. During your weeks together, he has become a friend. They all have.

Perhaps you can find yourself a handsome druid when you all go back to the Grove to trade with the merchant Arron later today. If for nothing else, you desperately need to work on your flirting game because it has never been your strong suit to begin with.

“Tav?”

��Yes, Halsin?” You don’t know it, but the druid can tell that something is troubling you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, never been better.” If you keep saying it out loud you might perhaps believe it at some point.

“Right.” His seemingly all-knowing eyes scan you up and down, making you feel like he can see into the deepest parts of your heart and mind. You’re not entirely sure that he can’t. “I heard from Karlach that you’re going to the Grove,” he continues after a moment of heavy silence. “I have other business to attend to today, but I wanted to ask if you could do me a favour while you’re there.”

Your body relaxes with relief. “Yes, we are. What do you want me to do?”

The fictitious druid can wait for another time.

~~~

#astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #fic wip

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fatuismooches · 2 years

Note

With the release of Scara's drip marketing, I cant help but imagine him just wandering Teyvat and keeping his lover's letter with him. When he found it, the ending implied that he wanted to ascend to godhood so he can forsake his mortal emotions. However, after it didnt work out as he hoped and he gains an anemo vision, I wonder how he would feel about it all now? You also implied reincarnation au so what if after decades of wandering, the star-crossed lovers finally meet again??

Related to this piece and this piece…

Scaramouche fidgets with his Anemo vision more often than not, placed over his heart, a reminder of something that was finally his. More importantly, your final letter is kept carefully tucked underneath the vision as well. Sometimes, during the night he carefully reopens the letter to read it, the fold marks deeply imprinted at this point, yet there is no other damage to it. It seems that the letter has been painstakingly taken care of.

He thinks back to how he tried to erase his past, to erase you. He was foolish to do so (something the God of Dendro reaffirmed) but the pain of your early departure threw all reason out the window. You deserve an apology, he thinks. But you were no longer here for him to do so, something that he is all too aware of, as the nightmares still cut him open some days.

(But, while Scaramouche was under Nahida's care, she blessed him with sweet dreams whenever he had nightmares. She did not know who or what he dreamed of, but she assumed it must be someone he holds very dear, from the fact his face became peaceful in an instant.)

Often times he also wonders how you’d react to his Anemo vision. It would be so much easier for you to travel - he would just hold you and control the wind to levitate. Scaramouche imagines the wind blowing your hair all crazily as you gasp down at how high the two of you were up. He would summon a gust of air to throw all of your wet clothes into the air to dry and then make you beg for him to release them. He would-

He quickly sat up and began to get ready for the day again. Going down that path of longing again wasn’t going to be any good for him. He had been wandering Teyvat for decades, experiencing what every nation had to offer, indulging in his freedom. The traveler had been long gone from this world, so he did not have many close connections anymore.

Though, as much as he hated to admit it, the Dendro Archon had become… somewhat of a familial figure to him. So when she sent him a letter, beckoning him to come back to Sumeru for a visit, he was inclined to listen. What’s more, he was intrigued by the last sentence - ‘There’s someone here I think you’d want to meet.’

Port Ormos was still lively, the hustle and bustle had become somewhat comforting to him. He walked through the city, drinking in the familiar scent of delicious cuisine, and the rhythmic footsteps of dancers and singers. Scaramouche made his way to where Nahida was, more interested than ever to see what she wanted.

“Oh, I see you made it, Wanderer!” Her soft and welcoming voice did not change even after all the years. “How has your travel been? Eye-opening, I hope?”

The two chatted for a bit before Nahida smiled at him. “The person I told you about is about to come. But, you have to promise me you won’t do anything rash, okay?”

Scaramouche looked at her with a mixture of confusion and suspicion but agreed nonetheless. A soft knock on the door drew his attention. But what made him become still was the familiar voice that resonated from beyond the door.

No. No. It couldn’t be. Nahida glanced at him. “Come in!”

And there you were. The same curl of your lips when you were smiling nervously, the habit of yours to flip your eyes to his face and then the floor.

“Um… hello there. Lesser Lord Kusanali has informed me that you’ll be my partner for the daycare that’s recently been built. I hope we can get to know each other better!”

For the first time in archons knows when the surprise he felt was hard to shake. His chest started to pulse as emotion twisted up inside of him.

“Hello…?”

“Ah, sorry about that. He’s just a little out of it today. Could you wait outside for a bit? He’ll come to meet you there.”

“O-oh. Of course, Lesser Lord Kusanali,” you nodded your head and quickly scurried out of the room.

“That… that was, they’re really… back. They’re here,” the miracle had the puppet choked up. Tears began to well up and he stubbornly rubbed them away. He had somewhat grown to accept this feeling. After all, you were the only person who could invoke it now.

Nahida rubbed his back and comforted him. “I know. As soon as I heard of them, I knew it was the one you loved from so long ago. Please, spend as much time as you want here and with them. You deserve it.”

He quietly thanked her and got up to find you. The feeling that he had once forsaken, the one that made his face warm and chest stir, began to rise within him again…

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche genshin #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche angst #scaramouche drabble #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche fanfic #fatui harbingers x reader #genshin fluff #genshin angst

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eff4freddie · 1 month

Text

Touch | Part Eight

You and Ellie grow closer in Joel's absence. Jackson holds its breath for the return of the second expedition.

Words: 6k

Warnings: descriptions of injuries, angst, no smut I'm sorry

A/N: So this is the last big chapter of Touch. I'm planning a smutty epilogue because these two need a proper send off, but the main storyline ends here. Just want to thank you all for your support of this story, which was my first foray into writing fics for a long time. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Part Seven | Series Masterlist | Epilogue

You and Ellie fell into a routine of sorts, occupying yourselves while waiting for news. In the morning Ellie would go down to the stables to ‘check the horses’, which you knew was code for her looking to see if Joel had slipped back into Jackson overnight, but he was her dad, and you didn’t begrudge it. You hated when she came back with her shoulders slumped.

Ellie had already decided she didn’t have to go to school given the circumstances, and you had no authority to fight her on it. Occasionally you would mention that Joel probably wouldn’t be pleased when he got back to discover she’d missed classes, and she had been so dismissive of the very idea that it took you right back to eighth grade, trying to hang out with the cool kids and being summarily ignored. You were basically her roommate. Roommates don’t nag each other to do their homework.

You were doing your own maths, anyway. If Marla had ridden through the night with Jacob strapped to her back it meant that the site of the ambush was a two-days ride away at a normal, non-life-threatening pace. It also meant it was a two-day ride back. If they encountered any nastiness on the way there or the way back that could waylay them for a few days, maybe more if there were injuries. And then, of course, there was the infinitely more complicated mathematics of how it would tally if they died. You weren’t sure what you would count, if that happened, if it wasn’t the days until they came back.

You wondered, if none of them made it back, where you would go. You would obviously have to leave Jackson, the destruction you, Ray and Marla wrought on the small community complete at that point. You just weren’t sure where, in which direction. Salt Lake sounded bad, and you were getting tired of the cold. You wondered if you would be able to make it down to the Gulf of Mexico, if you just headed south for as long as you could until you hit ocean. You knew it was unlikely you would be able to do it on your own, and you also knew that you would have to. That at the end of all this it was always going to be you, alone.

It didn’t hurt to think about. You were matter of fact about it. If they didn’t come back, you didn’t deserve to stay. You were pleased with the almost complete detachment you felt at the thought of it. At the freedom.

Maria and Robin dropped by while you were teaching Ellie the muscles of the back and neck, in the hope that she would have some kind of education upon Joel’s maybe-return. She was good at it, too, getting the hang of the Latin despite the language now being even more dead then when you leaned it. When they arrived, Ellie took Robin from Maria and cradled him in her arms, Maria showing her how to support the head while he dozed. For the first time since Ellie had arrived she was still, quiet, over-awed by the tiny, precious life in her arms. You took Maria into the kitchen and poured her some tea.

‘This takes me back,’ she said, and you grinned at her, offering to massage her feet. She demurred. ‘You don’t need to see what I’ve got going on under here,’ she said. ‘I mean, I haven’t seen it for months.’

You knew that Maria was checking on you, and you loved her for it and hated that she had to do it. Robin was only weeks old, barely a month, and yet she was nurturing you. You had barely seen her since the birth, since she had made you feel so necessary, so wanted, and your cheeks burned at the thought of it. The last two friends you had ended up dead or banished. You were just bad at it.

‘Hey,’ Maria said, like she could read your mind. She reached out and put her hand on yours, warm from the tea. ‘It must be weird…no, awful, to be the one left. I can’t imagine.’

You weren’t going to cry in your kitchen with Ellie in the other room holding Maria’s baby. That just wasn’t a thing that could happen. You swallowed hard, heard your jaw click under the strain.

‘I really like Ellie,’ you said, pain blooming from your temple into your eye socket. You consciously stretched your jaw, your hand over your mouth to try and cover it.

‘She’s a good kid, been through a lot,’ Maria agreed.

‘She’s a good distraction,’ you said, and Maria smiled at you.

‘I want you to know you have a place here,’ she said, and you wondered how she always knew the right thing to say, wondered if she could actually hear your thoughts. ‘Tommy…and me, well both of us, Tommy’s worried about you because…not just because of the expedition and the pharmacy and all of that going wrong, he’s worried that…’ Maria gathered herself for a second. ‘He’s worried that you only think of yourself in terms of what you can offer other people.’

You felt the sting of it, the little nerve Maria had unearthed, opened up to the chill of the air. You flinched away from it, but she was still holding your arm, and you realised you hadn’t noticed she hadn’t yet let you go. ‘Listen,’ she said, but kindly, and so you did. ‘When you came here, and we made you stand in front of the town council and basically said you could only stay if you contributed to the community…’

‘I understood that was how it works, of course it does,’ you said, and she raised her hand to shush you. You obeyed, again. She was growing into this mother thing.

‘I realised, we basically told you that all you’re worth to us is what you can do for us. Yes, its important everyone can contribute because that’s how we keep the place running. But I need you to know that’s not your value. I need you to know that.’

It was getting really hard not to cry. You could see her eyes misting over, her mouth in a grim line to bite back the tears. ‘I asked you to help me, to help with Robin, not because I wanted you to do something for me. It was just because…I just like you, is all.’

You didn’t even really think about it, you just grabbed her into your body and held her, and you felt her shaking a little, like she had been so terrified to tell you, and you didn’t want the Gulf of Mexico. You wanted her in your kitchen and Ellie in your loungeroom with Robin. You wanted Tommy chopping wood or storing coal or doing whatever the fuck manly shit needed doing around the place. You wanted Joel standing in his socks at the counter burning the toast and swearing under his breath about it. You wanted what you had always wanted, which was just to belong.

You pulled back from Maria, rubbing furiously at your eyes. She wiped the tears from hers.

‘I like you too,’ Ellie said, from the doorway, and you both startled, which made her jump a little, which jostled Robin, who delivered several pointed arguments about his thoughts on the experience.

‘Fuck, sorry,’ Ellie said, the panic written all over her face. ‘Oh fuck, I said fuck,’ she said, looking at you for help. You looked to Maria, who regarded you both with an amused expression on her face.

‘You two are as bad as each other,’ she said. She took Robin from her, and Ellie settled down at the table. For a second there was just the sound of Robin, grizzling in his mother’s arms.

‘Hey, Maria,’ Ellie said, lifting her hand to point to the muscle at the side of her neck under her ear. ‘Levator scap-yew-lay’ she said. You applauded her; genuinely, warmly, proudly.

You weren’t really ready to emerge from your cocoon, would have stayed hermitty and weird forever, except that Ellie wasn’t having it. For one she couldn’t sit still in the house for days on end, but she was still only fourteen and the idea that something might happen to her because you let her go out while you let yourself rot on the couch was even less palatable than having to be social.

The first time she took you to the mess hall you felt the anxiety at the bottom of your lungs, your sternum feeling like it had shrunk in your chest cavity. You were convinced people were staring, resentful of you and all that you brought with you. You didn’t want them to worry for Ellie, didn’t want them to wonder how you were going to corrupt her, end up with her dead or thrown out of the gates. You wanted to sit at one of the back tables, but Ellie was determined not to make any of it easy on you, and steered you over to the main table, the long one in the middle of the room, where a bunch of townsfolk were already chatting. You joined at the end of the row, feeling how you retracted into yourself, feeling your shoulders round over. Ellie sat opposite you and smiled at you, brightly. You realised she was treating you like some kind of project, a rehabilitate-the-crazy-lady experiment, maybe some kind of pet.

‘This is the soup they had the other week,’ Ellie said, gulping it down so fast you were worried she’d give herself indigestion. ‘The chicken one? Do you remember?’

You had no idea what she was talking about, and you stared at her.

‘I brought it round with half the loaf of bread. The kitchen ladies did not want me to have it. So, I swiped it while they were washing up.’

You felt something heavy roll in your stomach. ‘That was you? You brought the food?’ you asked, and you weren’t sure if – when you were finished being flawed – you were disappointed or relieved.

‘Yeah, didn’t you know?’ she asked, and you shook your head.

‘You didn’t leave a note or anything,’ you explained, feebly.

‘I guess not,’ she conceded.

‘I thought it might have been Tommy,’ you lied, unconvincingly, but Ellie wasn’t paying attention.

‘I mean, you were close. It was Joel’s idea,’ she said, and what you now realised was a full-sized boulder turned again in your gut.

‘It was?’ you squeaked, and she nodded into her nearly empty plate. You pushed your soup around, your mind trying too hard to digest this new information to turn itself to eating.

‘Did he say anything else?’ you asked, but you were interrupted by Tommy bursting into the mess hall, his eyes wide and scanning over the crowd.

‘They’re back!’ he called, and several people immediately rose, hustled for the door.

‘How many?’ someone yelled back, and Tommy nodded, but there was something wrong, something grim on his face that you didn’t want to acknowledge, didn’t want to even consider.

‘All of ‘em,’ he said, but then he faltered, and swallowed hard, and you knew, then, were already getting to your feet. ‘Some of them are in a bad way,’ he said, and he was looking at you and then looking at Ellie, and you were tucking her under your arm as you pulled her towards him at the door.

‘She shouldn’t see,’ he said to you, quietly, and you shook your head at him.

‘Try and fuckin’ stop me,’ she said, before you’d even had a chance to speak. He sighed, but you were past him then, your arm on the door pushing it open for her, shoving her through first.

The infirmary was only three rooms connected by a short corridor, and in times of serious outbreak or multiple injury it was woefully understaffed, under resourced.

There had already been some kind of make-shift triage for the returned residents, two of the men assigned to one room since they only needed looking over and could then be let go, but Dougie told you, pulled both you and Ellie aside to murmur in your ear, that Joel had his own room. The one next to the surgery.

‘Is he dead?’ Ellie asked, and if you didn’t know her as well as you now did you would have mistaken her bluntness for coldness, for desensitisation, but you knew instead that she was steeling herself, that if there was going to be pain she wanted it now, fast and hard, to rip into it with bared teeth.

Dougie shook his head, and you exhaled for maybe the first time, ever, in your life.

‘He’s not in a good way,’ Dougie said, but Ellie was already marching down the hall to see him, and you were already trailing behind her, your head over your shoulder to offer Dougie your whispered, harried thanks.

But you stopped when you got to his door, let Ellie slip through without you, suddenly considering that you could be intruding, that he had no interest in your being there, didn’t even know you’d been caring for his daughter while he was gone, or that she had been caring for you. You didn’t even really know him, weren’t sure how you felt about him, weren’t sure that you wanted to see him bleeding and broken, weren’t sure that you could handle not feeling his touch on yours again, his whispered encouragements as you came undone underneath him, the rise and fall of his chest under your ear as you both fought back sleep to stay awake together for just a little bit more increasingly precious time.

You’d marched down to the infirmary without even thinking about it, and now you were trapped in thinking too much about it, and what if he woke up and was angry at you again, found something else to throw in your face, and had you forgiven him for that or did that not even matter when he had nearly died, did arguments and anger and hurt just become nullified when the other person endangered themselves to protect you and the community you lived in, because that seemed like a dangerous precedent, and-

Ellie wrenched the door open and stared at you, paralysed, three steps away.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ she said, reaching forward and pulling you in. ‘Get the fuck in here.’

It wasn’t like the movies. There wasn’t a beeping machine, a screen counting out his heart rate, his breaths. He had a little tube up his nose feeding him oxygen but he wasn’t in a white gown, wrapped up neat and tidy under a woven blanket. He was lying, still in his boots, crooked on an old, rusted gurney. Your eyes travelled over him, taking stock; the left eye swollen shut, the abrasion to the cheek suggesting a fractured orbital bone, the red and purple swelling across his brow and up to his temple. The blood under his fingernails, the makeshift splint trying and failing to straighten his obviously broken wrist. You stepped forward and opened his shirt, scanning for more injuries across his skin, found a deep gash in his side and countless bruises, something mottled and purple underneath his ribs. Like he’d been kicked while he was on the ground, while he was already down.

You felt a flash of anger, tears spilling over your cheeks. He was out cold, pale and shivering, and you raised your hands to his midsection, felt the wound there, deep and angry and so close to his spleen.

‘We checked him already, he’s not bit,’ Dougie said from the doorway, and you wiped at your face, set your mouth in a line, intended to turn and address him but couldn’t move from Joel. You felt Ellie standing at your shoulder, observing you as you checked him over. ‘He’s going to need half the supplies they brought back with them,’ Dougie said, laughing a little as if this was funny.

‘They got them?’ Ellie asked, and Dougie nodded to her.

‘Some are dangerously expired, but others are just…expired,’ he said. ‘I gave him some of the morphine, even though he was already out.’

‘He has a head injury,’ you pointed to his collar where dried blood was staining the pillow brown. ‘Are you sure that’s safe?’

‘I stitched him up,’ Dougie said, defensive.

‘What if there’s internal…’ and you stopped yourself then, because Ellie was in the room, and her eyes kept swivelling back to Joel, back to his body, back to the blood. ‘The mottling,’ you said, without further explanation, in the hope that Dougie had managed to find that part of the textbook.

‘We don’t have many options, if there is,’ he said, and you felt yourself get woozy.

‘What have you done so far?’ you asked, and Dougie just stared at you for a second, and you were going to throttle him, actually kill him in this place of healing, if he didn’t answer at least one question properly in the next twenty seconds.

‘We can give him a transfusion, keep his blood pressure up.’

‘Tommy,’ Ellie piped up. ‘They’d have the same blood right? They’re brothers.’

You nodded at her, and she ran from the room. In her absence, you turned to Dougie.

‘Tell me,’ you said, simply, and he sighed.

‘It’s a wait and see game,’ he said. ‘If there’s serious internal bleeding we’d need to operate but…’ you looked around the room, observed the notable absence of a sterile field.

‘I can’t,’ you said, and you weren’t totally sure what exactly you were referring to, but that didn’t make it any less true.

Joel stirred in his sleep, just enough for you to swivel around to him, plant yourself down on a chair and grab at his hand.

‘Joel,’ you said, not sure if he could hear you, hoping he could, hoping he wasn’t in any pain and knowing it was impossible that he wouldn’t be. ‘Joel, I have Ellie, and she’s doing so well,’ you said, murmuring into his unresponsive face. ‘I have her, Joel, so you just rest, OK? You just get better.’

You reached up and gently, carefully, put your hand in his hair, rested it over his right temple, seemingly more intact than the left.

‘We just need you to get better, Joel,’ you said. ‘We all do.’

You thought for a second you heard a grunt under the gentle rhythm of his breath. ‘Be OK, baby,’ you said, one hand in his hair and the other gripping his. ‘Just rest, and be OK.’

Tommy’s transfusion raised Joel’s blood pressure, which was good but also indicated that he had lost a lot of blood. Dougie showed you how to check his blood pressure manually with a cuff and a watch, and you kept an eye on it every hour. If it kept dropping, there was likely internal bleeding.

It remained stable through the night.

What had happened out there became clearer as the morning progressed, as the other riders were patched up. The group from Jackson had managed to find the pharmacy, had cleared it out and secured the perimeter, before turning back the way they came.

The remaining raiders, those who had managed to escape their pet clickers, had been tracking Marla’s path back to Jackson. They had seen how well-equipped Marla was, how strong Jacob had been, how well he had been able to muster up a defence. They’d figured that meant they were well fed, well stocked, that there would be somewhere worth pillaging if they could get to it.

They were young but they were clever, probably only just born on outbreak day, and they’d managed to circle the group before Joel had noticed them. He’d shot one of them point blank, rearing his horse back to try and get to the others before they could clock what was happening, but the younger men had been quicker. He’d fallen from his horse, or maybe shoved off, it wasn’t clear in the chaos, and they’d tried to drag him, pulled him by the arms away from the group, stomped on his ribs a few times. He’d fought them the whole way, scoring a couple of gashes to his chest and abdomen in the process. It was only when the dust had settled, when the three raiders were dead and Joel was struggling to mount his horse, seemingly unable to coordinate his limbs, that they noticed the blow to his head. He’d been woozy, then, stumbling over his words, but they’d managed to get him upright on the horse enough to limp back to Jackson. They’d almost made it back when Joel blacked out completely, falling forward into his horse’s neck and not sideways, this small stroke of luck possibly saving him from an even worse fate.

You listened to all of it, this breathless retelling of actual and near death. You could hear, even through the exhaustion and the pain, the awe the second expedition party held for Joel. That he had seen the raiders, maybe heard them, maybe smelt them, that he was so fast on the draw, so accurate with his shot, so quietly deadly. That he had gone down swinging. That he had come back up.

These stories drifting down the hallway to you, to where Joel lay. Your eyes raked over his body, his wrist now properly splinted and bandaged, his wounds sewn up. He drifted in and out of consciousness, aided by the expired morphine, but he tended to come back to the world fighting. The first time he’d nearly knocked Ellie off the end of the bed, had ripped the breathing tube out of his nose so hard he’d permanently bent it, had been wild eyed and terrified and so lethal, so deadly, as you grabbed his face and turned it to yours, told him where he was, told him who he was, while Dougie injected more drugs under his skin. After he had slipped back under, you liked to imagine that before the drugs he had been relieved to see you, that you had eked out a measure of comfort for him, that he knew you were there, that he wanted you to be.

The second time you sent Ellie away. It was late and Joel was finding new and creative ways to swear the infirmary into the ground, and you could sense the worry in her. You reassured her you’d stay with him, that you didn’t need anything to eat, could sleep in the chair by the bed. That she shouldn’t have to see this, that she didn’t need to hurt herself just to keep him close. You would do that for her. You would reach into yourself and carve away a space for him. Keep yourself hollowed out and aching, should he decide to make a home between your ribs.

You had already decided that when he woke properly you would leave him there, go and get Ellie and Tommy. Not intrude on the family. Go and sit in your little kitchen and run your fingertips over the kitchen table, let the wood grain catch on your skin, scrape the cells from you where you had held his hand.

You didn’t expect to sleep, so you startled awake, confused and aching in places you didn’t know you had from the stupid fucking chair, when Joel stirred again. Judging by the darkness it could only have been 3 AM, maybe 4. You steeled yourself for whatever destruction Joel was about to bring down on his own sick bed, lifted his hand in yours to your cheek, rested your face in his palm, hoped the weight and the heat of it would settle him, would ground him. You heard him clear his throat. This time, however, he was just exhausted, just himself.

‘I can go,’ you offered, too quickly considering he was still orienting himself, and you cringed, started to backtrack. ‘You’re in the infirmary,’ you started again, collecting yourself, watching his face for any hint of fear, any hint of anger.

‘Ellie,’ he croaked, his voice dry.

‘She’s staying with me, she’s OK,’ you said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder and then pausing, doubting, dropping it instead to the pillow.

‘Thirsty,’ he grunted.

‘Oh,’ you said, immediately snapping upwards and nearly knocking yourself out on the lamp over the bed. ‘Right, of course.’ Dougie had brought you water and a packet of dry ramen noodles approximately seventeen years past their use-by-date. You poured him a glass, cradling his neck to help him angle himself to drink it. You felt the heat of his skin on your arms as you lifted him. You didn’t think about it. Not at all.

‘Do you hurt anywhere?’ you asked, and he grunted at you. You knew it was a stupid question, and you tried again. ‘Do you want me to get Dou…the doctor, to get you some more drugs?’

‘Not yet,’ he whispered. You leant in close to him so that you could hear, and he fixed you then with a gaze sharper than anyone who had been unconscious for as long as he had should have been able to. ‘Makes me fuzzy and I want to…’ he trailed off, his eyes scanning your face.

‘I didn’t come to you about Marla because I think you’re a killer,’ you said, realised you had been waiting to say it to him, hoping he would wake up so you could finally set him straight. ‘I came to you because I knew you wouldn’t be cruel. I knew you’d do it well. Respect her.’

He lifted an arm as if he was going to cradle your jaw in his hands, but his face shifted into pain the moment he moved. You realised his ribs would be screaming in protest, and you grabbed his arm and forced it back to the mattress. ‘Don’t,’ you said, ‘it’s OK, I’m here.’

Joel turned his eyes to the ceiling, and you could tell that he was hurting. ‘I’m going to get you the drugs, you can’t just lie here like this…’ you said, standing up again. He grabbed your arm to stop you turning away from him, his grip strong, as he kept his eyes on the ceiling.

‘Ask me why,’ he grunted, through gritted teeth.

‘Why what?’ you asked, and saw the way he was bracing against the pain, felt a shot of frustration with yourself for prolonging it with your stupid fucking questions. ‘Why?’ you asked him.

‘Wanted to be a good man for once,’ he said. You sucked in a breath. ‘For Ellie,’ he went on, closing his eyes. ‘For you.’

You could feel something coming loose in you, a snapping of a hinge, the whine of a rusted and long-abandoned cellar door.

‘Joel,’ you said, because there wasn’t much else you could say in that moment, trying so hard to hold down the stirring turmoil in your chest. He held up his hand to stop you, almost waving you away, and you knew it was because it was hurting him to stay awake, hurting him to say it out loud, hurting him to hear you upset and not being able to soothe it for you. So much hurting in this bruised, bloodied body.

‘Let me…the drugs,’ you said, pulling yourself away from him, feeling his fingers grasp for you. ‘I’ll be here when you wake up,’ you reassured him, his eyes closed and his jaw tight. ‘I’ll be here,’ you said again, saw him nod, took the permission to finally, finally relieve him.

You weren’t there.

Couldn’t bring yourself to be, unnerved by the way his gaze snapped to yours, the way he had grasped for you, the way you felt the fracture of something vital, something that had kept you alive all these years. You sent Ellie in first thing in the morning, told her that he was calmer overnight and that you needed a proper sleep, set yourself up on the couch and tried not to think about it, tried to close your eyes and let sleep take you, felt it abandon you like you’d just done Joel.

You figured he wouldn’t remember it, what you had promised him, what he had said. The morphine would wash it away, would cleanse it from him. You would need to carry it, feel it sloshing around against your legs as you walked, but you were OK with that so long as it was only yours.

You busied yourself, cleaned up a little around the house because living with an un-housebroken teenager was a challenge in itself, went to the mess hall and bartered for a loaf of bread and a parcel of butter no bigger than a quarter, wrapped up in grease paper. That butter was going to cost you two massages but you knew Ellie preferred it, that without it there was so little flavour you could offer her.

You thought about going to Maria’s, thought about lifting Robin’s forehead to your lips and feeling his gentle, simple warmth thaw you out. But you worried Tommy would be there, that he would ask you why you weren’t with Joel, that he would ask you why had been, why you’d spent nearly three days at his bedside only to abandon him the second he was vaguely aware you were there.

You didn’t know how to explain. You couldn’t even get it straight in your own head. You wanted to cower from it, the strength of it, the weight. You took the back way back to your house, hoped you would slip out of everyone’s mind if you stayed out of sight.

Tommy was on your doorstep when you got there. Of course he was.

‘He’s askin’ for ya,’ he said, simply. You felt your shoulders drop, the defeat ripping up your spine, and you shrugged at him, your bottom lip wobbling.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ you said, simply, the six words that could kill you in an apocalypse. Tommy didn’t pretend not to understand. He took the packages from your arms, left you standing on the porch while he went inside and set them down. Came back out carrying a warm jacket for you and a cushion from the couch.

‘That damn ‘firmary chair is awful,’ he said, and you gave him a watery smile. ‘He’s askin’ for ya, so that’s what we’ll do,’ he said. You nodded at him. He took your elbow, led you down into the town.

‘It’ll be Spring soon,’ he said, making conversation, as you sniffed into the midday cold. ‘Jackson’s so beautiful in Spring, the wildflowers, the new leaves on the trees. You’ll love it.’

You nodded again, barely listening, wondering if you would ever be able to form actual sentences again. ‘S’new life,’ Tommy went on, ‘everything feels new. Like comin’ out of somethin’. Like a crack under the door where the light gets in.’

‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ you said.

‘Which part?’

‘All of it,’ you answered, sweeping your arms in front of you.

‘Well, you gotta do somethin’, so it might as well be this,’ Tommy said. It occurred to you that Maria’s ability to drop truth bombs at exactly the right moment was rubbing off on Tommy. You’d need to have a word to her about it.

Tommy led you into the infirmary, as if you didn’t have the place mapped like the back of your hand at that point, and down towards Joel’s room. He stopped at the door, and you realised he’d come as far as he was going to go. You looked at him, hoping for some final wisdom that might push you over the line.

‘What if he’s mad at me?’ you asked, feeble and weak.

‘He’s askin’ for ya,’ Tommy said, one last time, and you finally understood. You felt prickling heat at the back of your eyes, but Tommy had the good grace not to mention it, not to try to comfort or soothe, knew that it would make it worse somehow, bring it too close. With a shaky hand, you pushed open the door.

Joel was propped up, awake and gazing out the window at the street. He turned to you as you walked in, and your breath left you. The swelling around his eye had gone down, he was already looking less purple and bloodied than the night before, was more alert, was more him. You paused in the doorway, took him in as he waited for you.

‘Hi’, you said, barely above a whisper. You were gripping your hands in front of you, shivering in the doorway. You waited for him to yell, to thrash, to chew you out for leaving him to wake up alone and in pain.

You didn’t expect his eyes to mist over, for his bottom lip to tremble. For him to be soft, for him to need you.

‘C’mere,’ he said, lifting his good arm up to beckon you, and you fell into the four steps to him, launched yourself at his bed, gripped him by the waist and lay your head on his good shoulder, ignored his sharp intake of breath as you jostled him. You felt the tears spill over, your face tucked into his elbow while he ran his hands through your hair, and he held you as you sobbed into him.

This time, you knew it was for all of them. For the entire balance sheet, for the grand tally. For your parents, for Marla and for Ray, for Maria who so very much reminded you of your sister, for nearly losing Joel, for Ellie tucked up in your bed pretending she wasn’t counting the seconds until his return. For the love you held for all of them, your collection of losses and grief, for the realisation that all this time you hadn’t been feeling the absence of love but the presence of it, its full force, that it hadn’t gone anywhere, that so long as the love stayed so did they, in just enough of a way to sustain you.

‘M’sorry,’ you muttered after a while, trying to pull back. He held you firm to him, his chin on the top of your head.

‘Scared ya, I guess,’ he said, and you could only nod.

‘There’s so much that scares me,’ you whimpered, and he grunted his agreement.

‘M’scared too,’ he said. You raised your head to look at him, to understand, and he gazed down at you. ‘This is somethin’. Right?’ he asked, his voice giving out on the question.

‘Think so,’ you said. He smiled, warmly, down at you, lifted a hand to rub at his face.

‘We did it arse-backwards,’ he said, and you waited for him to explain. ‘Haven’t even dated ya, and here we are clingin’ to each other like…’ He trailed off, and you weren’t sure how you wanted him to finish that sentence, were sure you just wanted to continue to rest your head on his chest while he spoke, wanted to hear the timbre of it, feel the resonance.

‘Like it’s the end of the world?’ you finished for him, eventually. He chuckled.

The two of you fell into a silence, a warm one, a silence filled with all the words you were going to get to say to each other, when the time was right.

‘Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?’ you asked, after a long while.

‘Don’t need you to do anythin’ more than you already have. Just be patient with me, baby. S’been a long time since I felt this’ he said.

You reached over and took his hand from where it rested on his belly, turned his fingers over in the grey light from the window, examined the cracks, the swelling, the cuts. You lifted a knuckle to your lips, tasted the copper across your tongue, the tang of it, the life under his skin.

Gently, so gently, you held him there, felt his pulse against your skin, felt his body give, the tension in his muscles unspool. Heard his breathing slow, his other arm gripping tight around you. You let your eyes drift close, not having to see him to know that he was right there, in this moment with you. That he was with you, that this was the two of you.

That you had his touch. That he had yours.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

@anoverwhelmingdin

@pedropascalsbbg

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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hedgehog-moss · 2 years

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Today was Baby Poldine’s first day of school ! The idea for now is just to get her used to being in a narrow enclosed area without getting stressed, and pet her everywhere while she’s in there to desensitise her (especially her head & legs), so she can start wearing a halter next month.

People who were here in 2019 might remember that this simple gentle curriculum didn’t work very well with Baby Pampe. No amount of nothing happening while stuck in a small enclosed area ever made Pampe accept the concept of small enclosed area. It just made her more determined to escape. One of my posts about this ended with:

This didn’t make me worry too much about Poldine’s education, because by now I’ve accepted that you can’t use Pampérigouste as an indication of how llamas in general behave. Getting Poldine to enter the chute was incredibly easy in comparison to her mum! She saw that her hay net was here and trustingly went up to it—while Pampe was standing outside the corral like

Shhhh.

Poldine was quite stressed in the beginning, her little legs were shaking and she folded herself up like a caterpillar trying to find an exit—

—but at no point did it occur to her to jump over any fences, because that’s wrong. Once she stopped squirming I gave her a treat and then petted her for a bit. She was very tense, poor thing, and making anxious little hums.

It’s raining and you’re soggy and smell like wet goat. This isn’t fun for either of us.

She was clearly wondering what horrible thing was about to happen to her, and then I opened the chute and let her back up and out of it and she was looking around like “That’s it...?” She even got distracted from her initial project to get the hell away from here, when she realised her breakfast was still there. (Baby Pampe never would have let food distract her from freedom.)

To congratulate her for remaining in the corral a couple more minutes than she strictly had to, she got an extra clementine peel that was meant for Pirlouit.

Still, she ran to her mum as soon as she was out of the corral and tried to nurse for comfort. The chute was a little bit scary. (And Pampe was like no, we’ve got hay right here, are you kidding me.)

Pampoldine took the rebuff philosophically. She didn’t look very traumatised by llama school, unlike Pampe who was extra annoying and elopey on days when she had to spend 5 min in the chute. Baby Poldine looked almost proud of herself !

Also unlike Pampe who sulked and avoided me for a while after every lesson, Poldine followed me when I went to give my last clementine peeling to Pirlouit, and tried to argue that she was more deserving of it.

And finally, when I looked back on my way home I saw that all the animals were outside the corral finishing the hay, except Poldine who had gone back inside all by herself and was curiously examining the chute she was stuck in 10 min before, like “what was that about”

So, a very positive first lesson! Poldine was such a good girl, and the drastic contrast with 2019 is another confirmation of what all of us already suspected (Pampe is Pampe.)

#crawling along #then again pampe becomes a model llama when she has an opportunity to gaslight me in front of strangers so it's okay #like when the shearer came and was like ''but what were you talking about this is the most cooperative llama in the world''#me: :l #(this post is dedicated to the anon who said poldine was their favourite along with pandolf because they're both sweethearts!#i'm happy to say she lived up to your expectations today)

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imloyaltoscoups · 1 month

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you're safe | kim mingyu | part 2

The library is hushed, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the soft tapping of fingers on keyboards. Along with your groupmates you were deeply immersed in research for your upcoming projects.

Suddenly, Chan slides a note across the table to you, his handwriting slightly messy but still readable: "You're invited to join us on the trip this spring break <3"

Curious, you jot down a quick response. "Why?"

Chan leans over and whispers, "What do you mean why? You hardly leave your room or the campus. You need a break!" He mocks you playfully, nudging your arm.

Vernon, usually the quiet one, decides to chime in. "You've been so focused on your love life that you forget to have a social life," he points out.

Feigning injury, you dramatically clutch your chest and say, "Ugh!"

Seungkwan smirks and adds, "Truth hurts, right?"

You sigh, knowing they're right but feeling conflicted. "I need to ask permission from Gyu," you admit, already anticipating the collective groan.

The three of them exchange knowing glances. "Every time you ask for permission, he says no," Vernon points out. "And he always asks if there are boys there, even if it’s a mixed group."

"He trusts you, right?" Kwannie questions, raising an eyebrow. "You've wasted three years in college, either stuck in your room or his. I’m still surprised you have a few friends left."

You know they have a point, and their concern makes you think. Maybe it is time to start living more for yourself. When your boyfriend comes to fetch you at the library, you decide to seize the moment.

As you're packing up your things, you muster the courage to ask him. "Love, my friends are planning an out-of-town trip this spring break. Can I go with them?"

To your surprise, he doesn't immediately refuse. Instead, he smiles and says, "Sure, have fun. Just make sure to contact me from time to time."

You blink in disbelief. "Really? You're okay with it?"

"Yeah, really," he reassures you, leaning in to give you a quick kiss. "Enjoy yourself, love. You deserve it."

Your friends, who are within earshot, exchange surprised looks and give you encouraging thumbs-ups. For the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of freedom and excitement.

ꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤ

After a week away, you decide to return to the university, eager to surprise your boyfriend. You and your friends had spent the past few days at the beach, soaking up the sun and letting go of all the built-up stress from your college years.

As you step onto campus, a sense of excitement bubbles within you. You can't wait to see Mingyu's reaction when you surprise him. But more than that, you feel a newfound sense of clarity and perspective.

The time away with your friends has given you the opportunity to reflect on yourself and your relationship with him. You realize that you've been too focused on pleasing him and adhering to his restrictions, sacrificing your own happiness and freedom in the process.

You've come to realize that you deserve more. You deserve a relationship built on trust, communication, and mutual respect – one where you can be yourself without fear of judgment or restrictions.

Excited to see him, you use the spare key he gave and let yourself into his room. However, the surprise quickly turns into shock as you see him making out with a blonde girl.

Shock courses through you, but you quickly compose yourself, steeling your resolve as you step into the room. "What the hell, Kim Mingyu?" you demand, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

The blondie starts to speak up, but you cut her off with a glare. "Shut the fuck up," you snap, your eyes flashing with anger. "Move your slutty ass out of this conversation, or I will fucking slap the shit out of you."

The girl pales, fear flashing in her eyes as she quickly gathers her things and hurries out of the room, leaving you alone with your cheater ass boyfriend who came up with the worst alibi you can ever imagine.

Turning to face him, you feel a mixture of betrayal and disbelief swirling inside you. "So let me get this straight," you begin, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Blondie here just happened to trip and fall into your arms, and your lips just happened to touch and your tongues just happened to get tangled?! And why the fuck is she inside your room in the first place? That's fucking bullshit! Even a five-year-old can lie better than you."

He stands up shaking his head "You can't be serious right now," he says, his voice dripping with false concern. "You're overreacting, Y/N. You always do this. You jump to conclusions without even giving me a chance to explain."

Your jaw clenches, struggling to contain your frustration. "Explain?! Oh, don't even try that with me, Mingyu," you retort, your voice laced with venom. "You're the one caught red-handed making out with another girl in your room! There's no explaining your way out of this."

His expression hardens, his tone turning defensive. "She means nothing to me, Y/N. It's all a misunderstanding" he insists, his words ringing hollow. "You're the one I love. You're the one I want to be with."

You scoff, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Cut the crap, Mingyu. I'm not buying your lies anymore," you say, your voice trembling with suppressed anger.

"You know what, I can't believe you're making such a big deal out of nothing," he says dismissively, his tone dripping with disdain. "You're the one who's always accusing me of cheating, when all I've ever done is try to be a good boyfriend to you."

You feel a surge of frustration at his words, struggling to comprehend how he could downplay his actions so callously. "You gotta be kidding me?!" you reply, your voice tinged with bafflement. "You honestly think that what just happened isn't cheating? Is this some kind of a joke to you?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "It's not like I slept with her or anything," he retorts, his tone defensive.

You stare at him incredulously. "Are you serious right now? So now cheating is only cheating if it involves sex?" you shoot back, your voice rising in frustration. "What kind of mindset do you even have?!"

But Mingyu refuses to back down, his arrogance fueling his argument. "I never said anything when you and that Wonwoo were talking, right?" he retorts, his voice laced with accusation. "So why can't you just ignore this one time thing? It's not like it means anything."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the hypocrisy of his argument leaving you speechless. "You're comparing me talking to a friend to you making out with another girl?" you ask, shaking your head in disbelief.

But before you can say anything else, Mingyu leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "If you're mad because you saw me kissing someone, then fine," he says, his voice dangerously low. "I can fucking kiss you right now if that's what you want."

As he leans closer, you push him away with all the strength you can muster, disgust evident on your face. "Don't you dare put your dirty mouth on me," you hiss, your voice trembling with rage.

But Mingyu refuses to back down, his desperation evident as he tries to guilt-trip you into forgiving him. "Don't tell me you're going to throw away three years of our relationship over a simple kiss with that girl," he argues, his voice pleading.

"A simple kiss?!" you repeat. "You call that a simple kiss? You two were practically eating each other alive, and you call that a simple kiss?!"

He brushes his hair back in annoyance, clearly growing impatient with the conversation. "Then why don't you go make out with someone so we can be even?" he challenges, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You can call Wonwoo for God's sake."

"You know what? We're done," you declare, your voice firm and resolute as you finally put an end to the conversation between the two of you.

"Fine, be that way," Mingyu snaps, his tone tinged with resentment. "But don't come crying to me when you realize what you've lost."

You narrow your eyes, refusing to be intimidated by his attempts to guilt-trip you more. "Don't you worry," you retort, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. "I would never come back, even if you begged on your knees."

As you turn and walk away from his room, a mixture of relief and sadness washes over you. You should have trusted your instincts from the beginning, and now you're experiencing the painful aftermath of ignoring them.

Instead of returning to your dorm building, you decide to head back to your parents' home. With a week left before spring break ends, you figure you might as well make the most of it and seek some comfort and solace. As you settle into your old bedroom, you can't help but twist and turn, replaying the events that transpired with Mingyu.

Lost in thought, you almost didn't hear your mom calling you for dinner. Taking a deep breath, you push yourself to get up and head downstairs. As you reach the dining room, you're taken aback by the sight of an unexpected but familiar face at the dinner table.

"Hi there, munchkin," says Wonwoo, smiling warmly at you.

ꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤ

Mingyu's POV

Mingyu sits in front of his laptop, his friends appearing on the screen. But instead of the usual banter and laughter, he's met with teasing and mockery.

"You really screwed up this time, Kim. Mingyu," Minghao chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you thought that lame excuse would fly."

His jaw tightens as he tries to defend himself. "I didn't know she was coming back early," he protests, his voice defensive. "I panicked, okay?"

Dokyeom lets out a snort of laughter. "Come on, man. Even my niece could come up with a better lie than that and she's three," he says, unable to contain his amusement.

Mingyu's frustration grows as they continue to poke fun at him. He absentmindedly plays with the ball in his hand, tossing it up and catching it in a futile attempt to distract himself from their teasing.

"You could've said you two were rehearsing for a play or something," Minghao suggests, a smirk playing on his lips. "But naaur, you had to go with the girl tripping over and you catching her. Smart move, buddy."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he mutters, his tone resigned. "It was a stupid excuse. I messed up, okay?"

His friends exchange knowing glances, their amusement evident in their expressions. "Well, at least you're owning up to it," Minghao says with a smirk. "But seriously, man, you need to work on your lying skills."

Suddenly, Dokyeom interrupts, holding up his phone to the screen with a smirk. "Hey, check it out. Y/N just posted a story on IG."

Minghao lets out a playful laugh, nudging him teasingly. "Are you stalking her right now? How else would you be so updated on her posts?"

Dokyeom chuckles, shrugging off the teasing with a dismissive wave. "Hey, I just happened to see it pop up on my feed," he defends himself, though the grin on his face betrays his amusement.

Mingyu's curiosity peaks, and he can't resist the urge to ask, "Well, what did she post?"

Dokyeom continues, his grin widening. "Looks like Y/N's with her best friend now. Niceee, I smell a rebound," he says, laughing at his own joke.

part 1, part 3,

....... ≿━━━━༺MINGYU༻━━━━≾ .......

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theladyofbloodshed · 3 months

Text

Hunt x Nesta - Chapter 8

The sounds of the shower roused Hunt from sleep. Since Nesta had discovered that her cell could access music at any moment, she was unstoppable. A symphony blasted through the wall; violins were reaching their crescendo alongside a barrage of brass instruments that were accompanied by a flurry of percussion. Then the cannons came as she turned off the shower.

Releasing a groan, he rolled onto his side to check his cell. Eight messages. All from Nesta at various points in the morning whilst he still slept. Each one made him laugh.

‘Hey, when you text, you don’t need to write an address line or a sign off. I know it’s from you because I have your contact saved,’ he explained as she entered with a towel wrapped around her body.

‘What do you mean?’

Hunt motioned for her cell that was churning out another classical song. ‘What am I saved as?’

Nesta paused the music. ‘I don’t know. Plus five zero five eight two-’

He yelped like he’d been shot and threw himself down. ‘You didn’t even save my number? Do I mean nothing?’

‘I don’t know how.’

With Ruhn’s number, he showed Nesta how to save it. He pulled a photo from the web of Ruhn being arrested before he was legal to drink – of course, his daddy had the charges scrubbed but the photo remained – and saved him as the Prince of Pricks.

‘There, now try with me.’

A devious smile flitted over her lovely face as she stood in the middle of the room typing at the speed of a snail.

‘That index finger is getting quite a workout,’ he commented.

Surprising him, she raised her middle finger.

For the second time that morning, Hunt collapsed back onto the pillows, laughter rumbling out of him. ‘Who the Hel taught you that?’

‘We have that in my world.’ She flashed the phone towards him.

His contact name had been updated to Orion Athalar – my favourite angel along with as many emojis as the name would allow. The picture was of him shirtless with ridiculously fluffy wings.

‘You said you’d deleted those, liar.’

‘I’m leaving today. I need a memory to keep.’

‘You’re taking the cell with you to plug in where exactly?’

Nesta shrugged and pressed it to her chest. ‘I will invent electricity in my world so I can always look at these photographs.’

There was no doubt in his mind that Nesta could do anything that she set her mind to. He couldn’t help but wonder what sort of person she’d be if she stayed in Lunathion. They’d stayed up late in each other’s arms talking for hours; Nesta had wanted to know everything about him and the land she was leaving behind. They’d talked about university for over an hour with Nesta needing to know what could be studied, what the fees were, who could study, when it could be studied, and what happened upon graduation. Hunt had listened to her talk about Prythian but most of it left him seething. Nesta couldn’t tell him anything about the place she lived because they stuck her in a fucking house and cut off her funds so that she was entirely dependent on the king and his lackey. That one, Cassian, he’d quite like to meet so he could knock him into next week. She’d grown upset when she talked of her sister whose pregnancy would cause her death. Beyond kidnapping a couple of surgeons and a midwife, Hunt didn’t know what to do to help. The male, Cassian, who forced her on a hike as punishment for telling her sister the truth deserved to be punched. He didn’t like any of these fae males, but this one sounded like the worst.

He'd even come clean about Micah and the awful things he did to inch towards freedom. In a way, Hunt wanted her to be repulsed or to pull away then at least it would soften the blow of her departure. But this damn female just said that she understood why he did it and held him a little tighter.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’

Nesta snickered. ‘Don’t tempt me, Hunt.’

It wouldn’t be that hard to adjust. He’d grown up in a time when technology was near enough non-existent then emerged from a dungeon and everybody had cell phones or were driving cars. He’d cope again going backwards. Anything was possible with her at his side. But maybe Hunt would cause a few too many fights with the fae that ruled her.

‘Just stop letting them put you in danger and using you. Or I’ll fly all the way there and kick their asses.’

Hunt sat her down on the edge of the bed to start drying her hair. She was nervous about him doing it although he thought he did a fabulous job of his own. Truly, he was desperate to do it. Nesta was leaving back to a world where the male that she was tangled with didn’t seem to care for her at all. He needed to show her that males could be gentle – that it was a choice not to be caring. He wanted to dry her hair and take care of her because that was a male’s duty – not fucking her then leaving with his seed still dripping from her.

Vik was expecting them when Hunt took Nesta through a private entrance into the Comitium that was strictly for workers only. Worker was laughable. The slave’s entrance was a better name for it.

‘The sword and the Harp as promised. And I don’t need to remind either of you that it would be a good idea for Nesta to return today, do I?’

‘No, mom,’ Hunt replied, kicking her boot lightly.

‘And I needn’t advise you that walking through Lunathion with a sword will likely have you arrested.’

Hunt frowned. ‘Danika Fendyr and Ruhn Danaan do it.’

‘They’re leaders of the aux and will be the heads of their species one day,’ Vik said.

Sensing Hunt was about to argue with Vik, Nesta rested a hand on his forearm. ‘I’d rather spend my last hours here with you rather than in an interrogation room.’

‘I’d still be there. We can play cops and robbers.’

‘Gross,’ muttered Vik before she turned back to her computer.

For once, Nesta had left most of her hair down. She’d pulled it from her temples with a twist and a couple of hair pins. Paired with a pale blue summer dress, she was utterly stunning. But his dreams of strolling through Lunathion with her again hit a snag when Micah’s name flashed on his cell.

‘You should answer that,’ she said, peering at the name.

‘I want this day with you.’

Nesta pushed the phone towards him. ‘I’d be glad for time with my thoughts. Answer that. Do whatever it is you need to do. We can meet later.’

‘I’ll fly those to the hotel,’ he said, gesturing to her returned items.

Nesta kissed his fingers then strode into the sun, hips swaying as she went.

***

How many different ways could Nesta try to convince Hunt to leave with her – or for him to ask her to stay. She didn’t want to impose. She’d done that enough already on his life. But if Hunt asked her to stay… No, she couldn’t. Feyre was dying. What sort of sister would she be if she left her in those final moments?

Nesta sighed.

The same sister they all believed her to be; worthless, spoilt, and needing redemption.

A shadow bumped into her arm then a figure took up the seat beside her on the bench. Ruhn Danaan wore his typical black jeans and t-shirt with a pair of sunglasses to protect his hungover eyes from the bright sunlight.

‘It’s very loud,’ he said, wincing.

Children were playing at the park where Nesta’s feet had taken her to. Their squeals and joy made her think of the children who never stood a chance in Prythian; the ones who were exposed to war, Illyrian girls who were clipped and beaten.

‘I didn’t think you would come.’

‘And miss the chance to say goodbye?’

Following Hunt’s advice, Nesta had sent a text that merely asked Ruhn to meet her – and she received a reply asking who it was in return. Then another saying if they had once had a date, he wasn’t the sort of guy to want to settle down and he was sorry.

‘I need to return this.’ Nesta held out Tristan Flynn’s credit card. ‘I’d like to keep the cell phone. If that’s alright.’

‘Of course you can. Flynn will be devastated you gave this to me and not him.’

A messenger otter scurried along then stopped in front of Ruhn, brandishing a letter. Nesta couldn’t stop her fawning.

‘Tharion Ketos. What a weasel,’ he muttered, pocketing the letter.

‘I wish we had those.’

‘Mer?’

Nesta tutted. ‘Otters. We have otters, but not ones that wear little jackets and deliver letters.’

Ruhn gave a slight laugh then folded his arms over his chest. He looked at her, really looked at her. ‘You don’t want to go back, do you?’

Everything suddenly felt hot and painful. Nesta tipped her face upwards, blinking as quickly as she could to keep from crying. Ruhn stroked her bare arm.

‘I can’t sugar coat it. My father will not stop until he finds out who you are. You’re technically under his jurisdiction as one of the fae. Hunt is a slave – there isn’t much he can do for you. If Micah sells his ass to Sandriel, he won’t be here.’ Ruhn winced. ‘Is it really better here for you than there?’

Yes, she thought. Because I can be somebody here. I can study and learn and be my own person without history trailing me. And I’d have Hunt.

‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I know I have to.’

‘Let me walk you back to your hotel at least.’

Despite the beauty of the day, Nesta had gone cold and hollow with every step closer to the hotel.

Nesta steeled her wounded heart. She held the pieces together even if they felt like they would shatter from the force. It wasn’t fair.

‘How much would it cost to buy Hunt?’

Ruhn let out a whistle. ‘The Umbra Mortis?’

‘What if I offered my Harp or my sword?’

‘It might sweeten the deal but Hunt Athalar is one of a kind.’

Visions of her putting on the Mask or Crown and forcing Micah to release Hunt to her came to Nesta. It was a bad idea, but a tempting one. There had to be some way for them to be together. Maybe destiny was forged by their own hands.

‘That Harp of yours,’ Ruhn said. ‘It wouldn’t be related to the Horn, would it?’

‘Why would it be?’

Ruhn shrugged. ‘It’s just that the Horn went missing the other day. I came to see you just afterwards and you looked pretty panicked. Then Athalar appeared looking sweaty just after there was a freak lightning storm at Luna’s Temple.’

‘How odd.’

‘Odd indeed.’

On an instinct, Ruhn grabbed the strap of her dress with two fingers at the edge of a busy road without a crossing. Nesta hadn’t quite mastered it yet, but she knew not to walk out now – but his care was appreciated.

‘I heard it’s broken anyway,’ Nesta said with an airy tone. ‘It wouldn’t be any use to the person who now has it.’

‘Unless they knew how to create Made items like a magic sword that doesn’t like me.’

‘What would it mean if there was somebody in Lunathion who could create Made items – theoretically, Ruhn?’

The hotel came into view and they slowed their pace to finish their theoretical conversation. Ruhn pretended to stroke an imaginary beard then slung an arm around her as they walk so he could lean towards her ear and speak in a whisper.

‘If the Asteri knew there was somebody with those powers in Lunathion, they’d be the public’s most wanted. And Hunt Athalar would be ordered to bring them in dead or alive. I don’t think that theoretical person would want the Umbra Mortis in that situation, would they?’

There was no telling if Hunt could disobey direct orders although she knew he’d try. For her, he’d try. And she couldn’t do that to him.

At the doors to the hotel, they stopped opposite each other. Amidst the vibrant colours of his tattoos, Nesta could make out damaged, scarred skin.

‘I’m sorry that it can’t be the way you want it.’

Nesta offered a half-smile that felt like a veneer slapped over a rotting foundation. ‘Do any of us ever get what we deserve?’

‘Maybe in another life.’

This was her other life, her other chance. When Ruhn embraced her, she didn’t know how to respond because the males here treated her with kindness without expectation.

‘I’ll tell Flynn you love him. He can peddle that story about unrequited love to simpering females.’

‘Goodbye Ruhn.’

***

Five names. Five names for him to kill.

Hunt felt sick from it. Sick with himself. Because five on one night was more names than he usually had in half a year. He shouldn’t rejoice in death, but it would shave off a little more of his debt.

He was wrong for it. Wrong for being glad that he could exchange a life for his debt.

Nesta deserved better than that. Better than a slave. A killer. A worthless male.

When he met her in the hotel room, he didn’t mention that he could smell Ruhn Danaan on her clothes despite her desire to spend time alone. He’d let her keep that secret if he could keep his. She might have held him last night and waved away his debt to Micah as something he couldn’t control, but it was Hunt’s action that led him to this point. Nobody forced him to lead a rebellion. And it wasn’t just killing. A single bullet to the head was merciful; the sorts of death Micah had him enact would send Nesta running from him.

Hunt bundled up his grief and disgust. He could hold it back for a few hours. Give her a good few hours before she returned. Let Nesta go home beneath a golden sky rather than his storm.

‘I did something. I think.’

Nesta held out the Horn to him which was glowing with an iridescent light. Faintly, he could feel a thrum of magic through his core.

‘How?’

‘The sword is a Made item. Made by me. I was Made by the Cauldron then took its power.’ Nesta swallowed then looked at him. ‘I fixed it Hunt. It can open to new worlds. It’s a safer bet than the Harp. I fixed it.’

‘If anybody could fix a relic that is thousands of years old, it would be you,’ he said, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone.

Every now and then, a silver flame would skitter across the instrument that she clutched in her hands. The Harp would hum in unison with it. Whoever – whatever – Nesta was, Hunt didn’t care.

‘Are you going to blow it?’

Despite her nod, Nesta didn’t move for a while, just stared at him with wide eyes.

‘It’s alright if you’re scared. I’ll be with you.’ He kissed her forehead and the Horn buzzed between them like a hornet. ‘I’m talking to Nesta, not you.’

*** ‘Ready?’ She wanted Hunt to call it off, to tell her to stay at his side until the stars fell. No matter his warnings about the Asteri or Micah or the Autumn King, none of it could be as bad as what was waiting for her in Prythian. A vengeful queen, a sister who was to die, and a high lord who only wanted her to suffer. It didn’t matter what danger she faced in Lunathion because with Hunt at her side, anything was possible. There was no storm they couldn’t weather together.

Hunt squeezed her knee. ‘Ready. To the stars.’

Pursing her lips, Nesta touched the horn to her lips and blew.

A pathetic, raspberry echoed through the horn.

She glanced at Hunt, heat building in her cheeks, and saw that he was screwing his face up. After a moment, he burst into riotous laughter.

‘What was that?’ He asked between his booming laugh.

She found herself laughing in answer, infected by his merriment. ‘I’ve never blown a horn before. I don’t know how to do it.’

Hunt slapped his thigh, trying to right himself. ‘Not like that!’

The pair of them lost it. Whatever tension had been clinging to the room soon evaporated as Nesta tried again and again to put her lips towards the horn. Each time she pouted or made a trumpeting noise, Hunt roared with laughter, setting her off too.

‘Stop looking at me because you’re putting me off.’

Tears rolled down Hunt’s cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut although a large grin spread across his handsome face.

Nesta pulled out her phone and searched how to blow a horn. In a world where knowledge was at her fingertips, it seemed terribly wasteful not to utilise it.

‘Maybe the Horn is still broken, Starlight.’

But it couldn’t be because her magic had been drawn to it and the Horn had been buzzing with possibilities since.

‘I can do it,’ she insisted.

‘I know you can,’ he replied, touching her leg again. ‘Not looking again.’

Easing out a breath, Nesta formed her lips in the shape her cell phone told her to. A low, well-held note emitted from the top of the horn.

Hunt whispered her name.

Near the wall, a great portal had opened, its edges rimmed with her silver flames. Rather than offering a view of Crescent City, Nesta saw into the library in the House of Wind. There was her favoured arm chair with the foot rest pulled close by. A little stack of books that she’d pulled out a couple of weeks earlier was upon the three-legged table.

‘You did it,’ he praised, stroking her cheek. ‘Is there anything you can’t do, you wonderful girl?’

Nesta grasped for him, too emotional to speak. Her hands reached for his face, pulling it to hers to kiss one final time. Strands of his hair fell onto her cheek as they kissed and she stretched out a hand to brush the inside of his wing one last time.

‘Mother above, what the fuck.’

She leapt away from Hunt, startled by the voice.

Lucien Vanserra stood in the library opposite them, peering into the hotel room, a full cup and saucer held in his hand.

Hunt braced his legs then lightning wreathed his body.

‘No,’ Nesta urged. ‘This is my sister’s mate.’

His voice took on a lethal edge. ‘This is Rhysand?’

‘Definitely not,’ called Lucien.

‘Elain’s mate. The eye.’

‘The eye,’ confirmed Hunt, finally taking in the golden eye and the scar rippling down Lucien’s face which was paler than usual.

‘We thought you were dead or kidnapped or trapped in the Prison.’

‘Surprise,’ Hunt said drily.

They passed the bag through first to test it. Lucien, baffled and muttering to himself, waited on the Prythian side to accept it. Maybe it was odd to keep all of the clothes from Lunathion as they’d have no place, but Nesta didn’t want to part with anything from her week there. Everything was taken from her in the war, so she wanted to keep this.

When the Harp and Atraxia were passed through safely, she said it was her turn.

The portal was too high for her step through easily so Hunt lifted her over it and Lucien, gingerly, accepted her on the other side, lowering her to the floor as if she was a sack of potatoes.

‘I think if I blow the Horn again, it will close it.’

She lifted it near to her lips. ‘Don’t make me laugh this time.’

‘It’s my last chance. I have to,’ Hunt insisted, brown eyes sparkling with joy.

But when Nesta did press the Horn closer, the amusement drained from Hunt’s expression, accepting it was the end.

A single note emitted and the flames collapsed in on themselves, leaving Nesta with a view of the tall windows in the library. She dropped the Horn then sank to her knees and wept.

#hunt x nesta #hunt athalar #nesta archeron

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glassrowboat · 4 months

Text

Our Adventure. Venti.

Summary: A child of Mondstadt has recently been gifted a vision. A gift from the gods. Yet all she views it as is a decorative charm that invokes ire and fear in her very own heart, a babble she can't even control. The solution? The best bard in Teyvat, obviously!

Word count: 2400+

Authors note: Basically, I've been toiling away in my head what would happen if a vision user was struggling to use their newfound gift and I wrote this :)

The wind had a habit of carrying many things along it's ever flowing breeze, from leaves to the sweetest of songs, from love confessions to the dandelion seeds that truly marked Mondstadt as a land full of endless wishes and freedom. Tonight, however, there was a cry, a wail that even a banshee herself would be incapable of making as it rang in the young bard's ears. This was how the archon had come to know so many secrets that lay in the land he called home, and this was how he ended up below a closed window with pebbles in his hand.

A small thud could be heard on the sill, bouncing off the wood as Venti tried his best to not get hit with the smooth stone hurtling back down to the ground. When no answer came from that still weeping woman another pebble was tossed.

What plagued her was already known by many, far too many if anything. Gossip spread fast in these stone walls. Drunkards would talk about how they came across a random patch of grass just outside the city's gates dried out beyond compression. The local carpenter would talk about how he had to chop down a tree that suddenly became too unstable to be allowed to stand any longer, only to find out behind the untouched bark the inside was lacking any moisture that was so characteristic of fresh wood. The most notable of all however was the knights who said they had to escort a young woman home, too weak to walk as she knelt down right inside a ring of brown blades too stiff to wave in the wind like the fields of green typically would.

(Y/n), a child of Mondstadt recently gifted with a hydro vision.

The very same person who was on the other side of that window was struck with knock after knock as she glared at it with pure contempt, nose still running even as she picked up a random shoe. A heel with its pointed end should do some decent damage, right? So she held it tightly in her grasp, that is until the window randomly opened as if Peter Pan himself was trying to sneak into her darkened room. No candle lit to truly brighten up the scene of a red shoe hitting a green figure square in the face.

“No, no, that's some vampire shit I ain't about. Go find some other woman to prey on I- I ate garlic bread for dinner ya know?” Even with your vision blurred by tears you quickly grabbed the other shoe, getting ready to throw this one too.

Vampires can't enter without permission, right?

Well nevermind to that idea as the green figure landed on the floor having successfully passed through what was supposed to be a barrier of protection. All the while he was beaming at you with a smile that would make anyone want to punch him, even with his hands up in the air.

“That's not allowed….”

“Hello to you too.” Ah, you recognize that voice. The little pest that would run around the cobblestone streets all the while humming a tune that would be running on replay in anyone's head for hours after. “Can you put the other shoe down? My face already hurts from the first one.”

“I think you deserved it, you oversized fly.” Letting go of the shoe you let it fall to the ground as you got back up from what was an admittedly cowering position on the floor.

“Come now, what happened to you calling me a grand poet the likes no one has seen in this modern age? Am I not the next-” and you ended up throwing the shoe at him in the end- “Hey!”

You just shrugged, hands raising in the air in what could only be described as a whatcha gonna do about it motion.

Venti looked down at the shoe for a moment as it fell to the ground before kicking it back over to you, giving you free ammunition. “You could throw that shoe at me again or you- I was joking about the shoe! Please, spare me.”

“Flies usually get swatted.”

“Okay….different approach then.” Sighing to himself Venti walked over to, hand ruffling with something in his pockets before pulling out a handkerchief. The white square of cloth held out to you as it swayed in the wind coming from that still open window. “A fair maiden such as yourself shouldn't be crying, so I offer you this: let the best bard in Teyvat whisk you away on an adventure for the ages. We can make our grand escape right away!”

That's a great way to have missing person posters plastered up right next to the ones of the travelers sibling, and how well have those worked so far? Therefore your answer was an obvious “fuck that.”

“Please, with a cherry on top? And sprinkles too.”

Grabbing the handkerchief, and half tempted to throw it right back at him, you brushed it against your eyes. The fabric is surprisingly soft for something a bard who can barely afford a drink would be carrying, yet the lack of an abrasive texture appreciated nonetheless. “Why are you even here?”

“Well,” with a giggle Venti held his hand up, like he was in a play about to recite a sonnet in the middle of a stage with hundreds of eyes on him and him alone. If it was any other situation it could be an amusing sight, but he's still trespassing. “Let's say the wind guided me to you.”

It was hard to pinpoint why it felt so off-putting the way he said that, wistful in a way, but you didn't really get the chance to think on it more as Venti opened his mouth again. “What bard can stand hearing a fair maiden cry and not try and cheer her up with a song or two? Certainly not this one.”

“The wind?”

“Yup. Or maybe even Barbatos himself.”

“Have you ever gone to a doctor to see if you're clinically insane? Or have you just been hanging around Barbara and her musings of the church doctrine too much?”

With that Venti leaned over, a hand held up right next to his mouth so he could whisper, “the results came out inconclusive.”

Wait. What?

“Now come on! We have to get going before the sun fully sets and we have no light to help us see.” After all, who would want to be running around tripping over the loose cobblestones in the streets? “Walking through the dark is only romantic on beaches and sneaking around back alley ways to meet your lover, you know.”

So, he is insane.

Yet here you are taking out the hand he was holding out to you, letting that bard whisk you away on this promised adventure as he drags you out the window. (Trying your best to pretend you didn't notice him grabbing the vision you had tossed on the bed as he did). So while you didn't trip over the loose stones, at least not this time, you did fumble over roots as Venti pulled you under windrise. Leaves occasionally fall down from the tall tree, flowing back and forth as the wind catches the thin object before it finally settles down amongst the grass you two were trampling over as he pulled you to sit down.

Your knees hitting the dirt right before the stream winding along the plains to the coast, water softly rushing past you both as the sound hits your ears almost like a melody. Though a certain drunkard would be aghast to hear you say you prefer this over the strumming of his lyre he'd be plucking at any other time, even if it was just as a joke. Though admittedly it was odd not to see the ducks wading around, having gotten so used to seeing them so often from past visits trying to steal your lunch when you weren't looking.

Pesky little things they were, just like this brat.

“So, what's with the field trip?”

“I can't just pull you along for a midnight trip to my favorite spot?” The answer was clearly an obvious no. Not without a reason of course. “I give, I give, just don't have to glare at me like that. I've heard around town that you had a little incident.”

Oh great, so the rumor mill was doing its thing. What a goody. Just the thought of that scene again, of the hydro vision being cradled between your hands as the grass beneath you withered away to the point a patch of dead, dried out flora has your nose wrinkling. Not wanting to go over the image that played in your head like a highlight reel. A movie dedicated to your own inability.

“Is this the part you impart on me some sage advice?”

“I can.” With the wave of his hand, or more like a flutter of the earth's breath itself as a breeze swayed past you both, catching his braids and making them dance, Venti summoned his lyre. A certain blue glow reflecting off the wood from the gem sitting between you both. “Or we can sit here while I play a tune. It's up to you, (y/n).”

“I'd pick the latter in an instant.”

“But?”

“But it won't get me anywhere.”

Somehow even just the gold encased vision (or maybe the casing was a part of the vision, you didn't really know much about how that all worked) had a certain aura about it that felt daunting. Just an item. Just something as useless as an accessory if it wasn't being used by its owner. It was like instinct to avoid it, just like when you were a child and you had to learn the hard way not to touch that pan that had just been pulled off the still burning hot stove. For the two instances to be so comparable was like a funny, passing thought, but to you it certainly wasn't.

How can one laugh at their own misery without doing so just to mask their pain?

“Venti, what was it like when you first got your vision?” It felt like a natural question to ask, but he didn't really give you much of a real response to that besides strumming that lyre. A tune playing between you that you had heard at the tavern a good handful of times before.

“Let's just say I have always been a natural.”

“So you're useless to me.”

“Sounds like it, doesn't it?” Reaching over Venti picked up a windwheel aster only a little bit away, close enough he didn't have to shift at all to simply pluck it from the ground. “Though I wouldn't call the company of a friend useless.”

You couldn't help but huff at his statement, annoyed by the fact he had a point. “Fine. Sorry.”

He nodded in turn, not bothering to say anything about your mood today. Not when you both knew why you suddenly turned into such a grouch. “I can still explain how it feels for me.”

“As long as you promise not to say something cheesy like I become the wind itself.” That would surely make anyone in your position a little peeved. A prodigy sitting before you who has the ability to so naturally have control of something that threatens to turn on you. The claws of a wild animal that one can never say for sure will come to you for help or to attack.

“I can try!” Holding the flower out, those same orange petals that had become second place in the walls of Mondstadt began to spin. Turning round and round as you were left to stare at the little demonstration. “Like freedom itself has graced me. I can feel wind under my fingertips just as easily as I do strings or this flower for an example.”

“(Y/n), you may not currently know exactly what melody you are trying to share with the world yet, and that's fine! We all have to start somewhere.” Giggles came out between his words, easing the tension you couldn't help but feel at being so blatantly called out. “But just like always, a tune will still play, or in this case the sound of rushing water will be the music you grace me with. Either way, I can't wait to see what you can come up with.”

“My, how sweet, I almost want to wretch.”

“Hey, I was being serious for once!”

That's why this entire interaction feels so wrong.

Still, you glanced back down at the blue gem, watching how it glows so the grass it lays on is tinted with its color. Would it do the same to your garments once you get brave enough to hang it from your clothes like you've seen Amber doing? It was still a burner after all, but even a burner will cool. It just takes time.

“I wasn't expecting to see this side of you today.”

“Like what you see, my lady? Next, all we have to do is throw you in the water and see what happens.”

“I swear to fucking god-” No, you are not down for being thrown around by his wind currents. Just having to ride down one as you left your apartment to get here was enough for one day.

“Easy! Easy! We won't go back to throwing shoes at me, right?” He asked, hands in the air. Already surrendering just in case. The flower hanging in the air between you both. His doing, obviously.

“You're infuriating sometimes.” With a huff you snatched the flower from the air, pulling it close so you could look at it properly. It still had life left in it, still had water coursing through that green stem.

Your eyes were so focused on the petals you didn't even notice the smile Venti was giving you, soft in nature as he watched you stare down at the gift with a pout. You didn't need to know that he was just happy to see you free from tears again, to no longer have you be locked up in your own room from fear of something new. As for Venti? He didn't need to know you couldn't help but think maybe Barbatos did send him to you.

No, not all.

So just like any silent night at windrise, or as silent as can be with you two mouthing off at each other, the leaves rustled as branches swayed back and forth, and a tune, for the wind had a habit of carrying the sweetest of songs.

#venti x reader #venti #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #hoyoverse #x reader #fem reader #barbatos x reader #banner by cafekitsune

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moon-goddess-posts · 1 year

Text

505

ANGST!! but dw it’s fluff at the end, arguments, alcohol use

sorry guys i was gonna post smut but during class i was listening to sad songs soooooooo BUT i swear smut will be posted either tomorrow or saturday!!

You and Rhea have gotten into more arguments than usual. It was hard to pin point why but every time, it always seemed to be your fault. Seeing rheas irritated face made you heart sink and crumble little by little.

“Why can’t you understand i have a career to live, i can’t abandon that. it’s important to me” Rhea scolded you

“i do understand im sorry” voice barely over a whisper

“how many times have i told you to give me my space ? this is exactly what i was afraid of with relationships.” Rhea got more upset by the minute and you felt tears start to flow like a faucet now broken. You couldn’t contain it but she wasn’t having it

“Why are you so fucking clingy? now look at you crying” you were getting tired of this, you mustered up the courage and dispose of the lump in your throat to fight back

“what did you expect!” you rose your voice, breaking from the tears that you failed to hold down.

“If you were so scared of someone becoming attached to you, we didn’t have to do this. We didn’t have to be in a relationship” Rhea became quiet. you wiped your eyes and started to put your shoes on.

“where are you going?” Rhea spoke.

“to give you your space, and so you don’t have to see my tears that you hate so much” You were almost out the door, but rhea grabbed your wrist trying to stop you.

“what do you want? you’ve made it very clear you don’t want me here right now. And i can’t deal with this either.” you couldn’t face Rhea

“I..” She didn’t know what to say, so you shook off her grip on you and left. Rhea was now alone, forced to think on what she had just said and did.

As you drove off, you fell into a deep sadness wondering why you couldn’t be perfect for Rhea. Why you always seemed to make her more aggravated than anything else. Maybe it was a personality clash, that it just wasn’t meant to be. It hurt so much when Rhea was gone for weeks on end for her job. You’d see her on the TV, smiling and yet that was the only time you’d ever seen her content. Rhea wouldn’t text you days on end and wouldn’t respond when you texted her checking to see if she was ok.

“Why are we even still together?” you thought, it felt like it was only a matter of time before either of you asked to break up. You turned up the radio, crying again.

Meanwhile Rhea was contemplating everything she has said to you. She didn’t understand why she always got so angry at you. You didn’t deserve that and she thought for sure you would break up with her after this. But she wanted to be better for you because she really did love you, more than she let on. Part of her wanted the freedom of being single, but being alone like this reminded Rhea of the cost of losing someone for her own wants.

The truth is, Rhea didn’t know how she could live without you. Her career was important but not more important than you. Yet she treated you like she was second best because her own life is so demanding. You were understanding as much as you could be, all you asked was just more time with your girlfriend. Guilt seeped into Rheas skin, overcoming her. Rhea thought about trying to find you but she had already done enough damage and decided to give you your space.

You weren’t sure where you were driving to, all you knew is that you couldn’t be there for now. Not when you had made Rhea so angry yet again. You thought about all the times she would hold you in her arms, kiss you everywhere, and being together didn’t have to get so complicated. You saw a bar come up and you thought it would be a bad idea to drink while you were responsible for driving back home. However, if alcohol could stop making you feel like this then maybe a little bit wouldn’t hurt.

Parking your car, you approached the bar. The atmosphere seemed calm enough so you sat down and asked for just anything that was strong. One drink became a few and a few became a lot.

“I’m sorry…im sorry” you said drunkingly through tears.

“I just want my rhea” you pulled out your phone struggling to type. You managed to say how sorry you were and how much you missed your girlfriend. All you wanted was for everything to be ok. Rhea responded asking where you were and saw that she was calling.

“hiiiiii rhea…” you were slurring your words and hiccuping which gave a clear indicator you were drinking

“Are you drunk right now?”

“Nope!” you said giggling. Rhea sighed knowing this was her fault.

“Send me your location”

“i. don’t. want to!” you thought you were fine and ok enough to drive.

“Please? we can talk this out, i’m sorry for everything. I don’t want you to drive while your drunk” You started to cry again.

“I just want us to be ok, we’ve been arguing so much. I’m sorry i’ve been so difficult for you” you weeped and weeped. On the other side of the phone, Rhea was getting her jacket on to look for you.

“You aren’t difficult, i’m sorry. Please let me come get you”

“…Okkk” sniffling you sent rhea your location.

“Stay on the phone, and no more drinking ok?” you hummed letting your head down on the table

Rhea felt horrible, but it doesn’t matter now. all that matters is knowing you’re safe and getting you home. The location you had sent was about 15 minutes away from the apartment. From there Rhea saw you sitting at the bar, tears dried and head on the table. You looked half asleep.

“Hey love, let’s go home ok?” She assisted you and you let her pick you up.

“Rhea…please don’t be mad”

“Of course i’m not mad, i’m sorry i need to be more understanding. But we’ll talk later ok?” you wobbled to the car into the passengers seat with Rheas help.

“Here, drink some water first” She held your face and assisted you with holding the water bottle. You fell asleep right after. Once you guys got home rhea picked you up and placed you on the bed. She gave a kiss on your forehead and walked away as she was unsure if you wanted her with you. You woke up and held on to your girlfriend.

“Please stay with me. don’t leave me please” you pleaded softly, rhea turned around and smiled

“of course i’ll stay with you angel. I’ll always be here, i’m not going anywhere ok?” you nodded and let Rhea get into bed while she held you tightly. You looked up at Rhea to see a tear roll down her face.

“i’m so sorry” she whispered, you kissed the tear away and embraced her.

“i forgive you, i love you” you were only a bit sober so it was hard to comprehend what you were saying but rhea understood. You both held onto each other, slowly falling asleep.

-end

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley fanfic #rhea ripley fluff #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley smut #wwe rhea ripley #wwe #mami rhea

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glazesunflower · 10 months

Note

Welcome back!! I hope you enjoyed your well deserved rest (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡! If it may not be so much to ask may I request an x fem reader scenario where Jean/Lisa and Eula try to point out to the reader that there's something on their face (by tapping their own cheek) but the reader mistakes it as the girls asking for a kiss.

🤭🤭

Accidental Cheek Kiss

Characters: Jean and Eula x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: None that apply!

Notes: Sorry for the wait, I've been overcome by sapphism and wrote a 55k word fanfic in the last 2 weeks but now I'm back to tumblr reqs. I hope you enjoy!

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over Mondstadt, the city of freedom.

You and Jean were enjoying a peaceful walk through the city, hand in hand, enjoying each other's company and the soft touch of your fingers intertwined. You had been eating ice cream before. The weather is starting to warm again in this beautiful city and Jean was kind enough to treat you to a delicious snack.

You must’ve accidentally not wiped your face accordingly, because Jean notices a small smudge of chocolate on your cheek. Being the polite woman she is, she dearly doesn’t want to embarrass you, so she gently taps her own cheek when you look at her, silently indicating the smudge.

To you though, seeing your girlfriend smiling softly at you and tapping her cheek meant a different thing entirely.

"Oh, Jean, you want a kiss?" You say, smiling playfully.

It’s adorable how fast Jean’s cheeks flush.

"Oh, no, I was just trying to point something out on your face.” Her voice is quiet, like she’s sharing a secret with you. “There's a bit of chocolate, I believe."

Your lips bloom into a smile, your heart warmed by the sweet expression in her face.

"Well, I think you deserve a kiss for being so sweet.” You lean to her playfully, watching the pink in her cheeks deepen delightfully. “Come here."

Before she can reply, you surprise Jean with a gentle kiss to her lips.

Jean melts into the kiss, her tense expression defrosting in your hands as your soft lips meet hers, her eyes fluttering close to the sweet sensation of your gentle touch against her skin.

When you pull apart, Jean’s cheeks are blooming with pretty crimson colors. She stammers.

"W-well, thank you for the kiss, but… Really, there's something on your cheek."

She insists, and you let out a chuckle.

"Oops, I guess I got carried away.” You say softly, wiping your own cheek where, effectively enough, there was a bit of chocolate from before. “Sorry, Jean."

But Jean’s lips curve into a soft smile, one of those that she gifts for your eyes only during the late hours of the evening, a window to the harbor of affection she holds for you deep inside.

“It's quite alright. Your surprises are always welcome, my love.”

And just like that, you interlace your fingers with hers again and you resume your strolling around the city. From the corner of your eye you notice that Jean is still flustered by your sudden kiss, and the thought makes you feel bubbly inside. She is usually the composed and level-headed one, but you have come to realize you have a way of turning her thoughts into a whirlwind of emotions, and you exploit this fact more often than not.

You lean against her, your shoulders brushing.

"You know, Jean, you're really cute when you get flustered."

And just like that, you can hear Jean swallow before she speaks, trying to regain her composure.

"I-I am not cute. I am the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, after all.”

"Oh, so the mighty Jean does get flustered sometimes?" You’re incessant.

"Alright, fine, perhaps I do.” Jean’s gaze softens, finding your eyes. “But only around you."

"Good to know I have that effect on you.” Your smile is bright, like you’ve won the most expensive prize at a fair. You intend to keep winning. “But you know what? You're cute when you're flustered, and you're even cuter when you smile."

You watch Jean’s blush deepen in silent delight, relishing in the way her fingers twitch in yours. Her smile doesn’t falter.

"You always know how to make me smile, even in the most unexpected ways."

As the night grows darker, you continue your walk, sharing laughter and affectionate glances now and then, here and there. The city lights illuminate your path as you walk, but the real light comes from the warmth you feel for each other.

"You know, Jean, I love these quiet moments with you."

You allow the truth to settle in the comfortable space between you, and Jean’s eyes find yours, evidently affectionate.

"As do I. It's in these moments that I feel closest to you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes briefly and taking in the entirety of her close to you.

"Thank you for being a part of my life, Jean."

"And thank you for being a part of mine, my love."

You take in the softness of her voice, and you think of how your love has been a beautiful journey filled with surprises, laughter, and, of course, a touch of endearing fluster when Jean allows it.

With you by her side, Jean feels a happiness she had never held so close to her chest before. And your love will continue to grow, guided by the genuine affection you hold for one another, as you navigate the beautiful and unpredictable path ahead in the hand of the one you love most.

It’s a beautiful starry night in Mondstadt, and Eula is enjoying a peaceful stroll along the city's illuminated streets. With you, of course, her beloved girlfriend. The night breeze dances playfully around the two of you as you talk about everything and nothing and your quiet laughter fills the night air with ease.

Eula notices a tiny speck on your cheek, probably a remnant of the dinner you’ve just shared together, and decides to gently point it out. With a faint blush dusting her cheeks, Eula taps her own cheek in hopes that you notice and wipe it off.

However, you misunderstand the gesture and think Eula is asking for a kiss. What other thing can this sweet gesture possibly mean, right?

Feeling a rush of excitement and thinking you understood Eula's intentions, you easily lean in and plant a surprise kiss on Eula's cheek, your lips warm and full of affection for her.

Eula is instantly taken aback, her beautiful eyes widening in surprise and her face flushing a shade of pink that matches the setting of the sun beyond the two of you.

"E-Excuse me! I-I didn't mean…"

Eula stammers, her usually composed demeanor momentarily lost in the whirlwind of emotions, her cheek still feeling the ghost of your lips upon it.

Seeing her surprised expression, the misunderstanding dawns on you.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I thought you wanted a kiss!"

You’re quick to say, leaning away from her a little.

Embarrassment fills the air as the two of you look at each other, both caught in a mix of flustered emotions blossoming brightly under your cheeks.

But then, you watch the birth of a smile in Eula’s gentle lips.

"No, no, it's quite alright.”

She says, her voice surprisingly soft and tender after a moment of gathering her thoughts. Though your cheeks still feel flushed, you clear your throat, feeling a tinge of relief.

"I hope I didn't offend you. It was just a misunderstanding."

You watch Eula shake her head, locks of beautiful blue hair falling over her shoulders at the motion. Her sharp eyes soften when they meet yours.

"Not at all. It's just… I wanted to tell you that there was something on your cheek, but it seems I've muddled my intentions."

You feel the tension ease and you chuckle softly.

"Well, you definitely surprised me, that's for sure."

"I apologize for any confusion," Eula says sincerely. Then, her smile grows into something bolder. "But if you'd still like that kiss you offered, I would be more than happy to oblige."

And you can’t help but smile warmly, reaching out to cup Eula's cheek with your tender touch.

"I would love that."

You whisper before leaning in and giving Eula a gentle kiss on the lips, relishing in her warmth under your tender skin, the familiarity of it and yet the exhilaration it brings to your every bone.

Eula's eyes widen once more, her cheeks growing an even deeper shade of red at your contact. But this time, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she allows herself to savor the sweet and unexpected moment, the warmth of your affection warming her heart like the rays of the sun over the slope in the cold Dragonspine.

As the night continues, you and Eula walk hand in hand, your hearts fluttering with newfound emotions and a connection deepened by a simple misunderstanding that turned into a precious memory. Under the stars of Mondstadt, you feel ever so certain that your love for her and her love for you will continue to grow with the ebb of time, turning every moment together into a wonderful experience.

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking or reblogging it <3!

You can check more of my writing on (this link!). Thank you!

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #jean x y/n #jean x you #jean x reader #eula x you #eula x reader #eula lawrence

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