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amarguerite · 3 years

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For the writing meme, [insert prompt here] — Frederick Wentworth, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and beer.

I'm cheating a little because this hasn't happened yet:

Darcy did not understand how he kept finding himself at parties he resolutely didn't wish to attend. Well... no. He did. It was because he never wanted to go to parties.

He couldn't think of any he had ever wished to attend. He endured them after skating championships the way he endured talking to the press, but it took giving himself several lectures on good sportsmanship in the mirror to get out of his room after all those draining days of performance and relentless social interaction.

But even with all that-- Olympic parties were the worst.

So loud, so many people, so many... hockey bros. Like his cousin.

"Come ooooon," said an extremely drunk Ryan, pulling him towards the bar. "Have a drink! Talk to people! You're two-time Olympic gold medalist Fitzwilliam Darcy, and you should like, I dunno, fucking celebrate that instead of sitting in the corner mediating on fuckin' existentialism or something."

"I wasn't," said Darcy. True, he had been longing for the sweet escape of death over another five seconds of this horrible party, but Ryan was already being insufferable, so joking about it would only result in him having to take of shot of something disgusting and then have to make conversation with a girl he didn't know and who Ryan thought he'd find attractive. (The fact that Ryan was usually right only made him more tongue-tied and trapped in anxious misery.)

"Hey bud, a couple of cold ones, eh?" Ryan said to the bartender. "Oh here, look-- hey Mr. Axel, come here a sec!"

"What are you doing?" asked Darcy, with dismay.

"I'm such a good friend, I found you another figure skater to talk to," said Ryan, shoving a beer bottle in Darcy's hand. Someone vaguely familiar, wearing a red knit toque over his hockey flow, half-stumbled towards them through the crowd. Ryan slung an arm around him, putting him into a joking headlock. "This rookie-- this rookie! He's Frederick Goddamn Wentworth! He was on the ice one game and took home the gold!"

"Oh, with your single axel," said Darcy. Even swamped with press as he had been, he'd heard far too many times about one of the Canadian mens' hockey players jumping a single axel to avoid tripping, passing the puck to Ryan, getting it passed back and then scoring the goal that won the finals. He'd even caved in and watched the footage when Georgianna insisted on it. "I heard about that. Not quite enough extension coming out of it, but I think the judges would give you a high GOE for managing to land it in the middle of an Olympic hockey game."

Wentworth grinned and took Ryan's beer. "Thanks. Congrats on the second gold, man."

Ryan groaned. "Now I gotta go find the bartender and he's all the way at the end of the bar with the speed skaters."

"Boo fucking hoo," said Wentworth. "What's wrong with speed skaters?"

"They're too fast! I'll never get to the bar. They'll always cut in!" But Ryan ambled off obligingly enough, saying, "Wentworth, speak French to him, otherwise Darcy will pretend he can't hear you and just go back to his room like a wuss!"

Great. Now Darcy had to make conversation. He picked at the label of his beer.

"So, uh--" Frederick adjusted his toque with the over-precision of the drunk trying not to show it and asked in Quebecois French, "You know Anne Elliot? The female singles skater?"

Darcy hoped the darkness hid his incredulous look. Did he know Anne Elliot? Every newspaper and TV station in Canada had been selling her as a gold medalist as much as they had been selling him. They had bonded over it, guardedly, and as much as two reserved introverted people overwhelmed with Olympic pressures could do. And that had been before her career-ending fall during the free skate. "Yes. I know her."

"Is she like.. ok?"

"You saw footage of her freeskate?" said Darcy, a little surprised, before realizing, "I suppose it must still be a headline. I've been avoiding the news." He had ever since he'd been made into a meme. Tabernac, was there anything worse than that? He had won a second Olympic gold medal and he was a meme. Worse than that: he was a Heritage Minute.

Frederick chugged his beer. "Yeah. Seemed like a bad fall."

"It was," said Darcy, with a sympathetic wince. "Dislocated her knee and tore her ACL and MCL. Her coach told mine that Anne had to be sedated when she found out-- not just from the pain, but because, well...."

"I mean, there's surgeries and stuff," said Wentworth, with the bleary passion of the drunk. "It can't be career-ending now."

"I wouldn't lay you good odds on it," said Darcy. "Coach Russell didn't believe Anne would ever skate again, and I've never known her to be wrong."

Frederick slammed the empty beer bottle on the bar with a loud, broish demand for another, before seeming to recall he and Darcy had been in the middle of conversation and turning back to him.

Darcy suddenly recalled that Anne had been a pairs skater perviously-- or had skated pairs in Juniors and switched to singles in Seniors, when her partner abandoned her for hockey. Her partner-- tabernac, he was an idiot. She'd been partners with Wentworth! That was why he knew how to jump a single axel! Embarrassment made him a little curt. "I am surprised she hasn't told you herself. Weren't you partners?"

"We were, once," said Wentworth, overloud and a little stiff. How drunk was he? "But that was in high school. Lost touch. We haven't talked in... fucking years. You know how it is."

"Who wants shots?" Ryan asked, elbowing through the crowd.

"You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take!" hollered Frederick.

Great. Wayne Gretzky had entered the conversation. Darcy took a shot and resigned himself to a miserable hangover.

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kenganparadise · 3 years

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Okay my friend hear me out with this request please how about an Ohma x fem reader NSFW where like Ohma gets jealous of someone flirting with his s/o and he decides to take matters into his own hands when they get an excluded place he goes all out I feel as if he’s really dominant in bed but also likes positions like cowgirl and Doggystyle and if your okay with kinks could you include breeding and overstimulation of his s/o ~.~

YES YES YES. AHHH. TWO kinks of mine!!! breeding and overstimulation. FUCK. YES. I had a lot of fun with this one oh my GOD. :)

Warning- major breeding kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight Yandere, AFAB reader/gender neutral pronouns. Possessive Ohma giving into his animalistic side.

🔞WARNINGS!!! AFAB READER AND MAJOR NSFW WARNING!!!🔞

Ohma’s leg bounced with anger. His hands were in his lap, fingers tangled together- Knuckles white. His eyes gazed though his mop of hair. He glared at Okubo and Lihito. He normally somewhat enjoyed their company, But not right now. Definitely not right now. He wanted to tear them off of you. He knew they were both womanizers. Maybe they didn’t know you belonged to someone. Well, They were both completely drunk. It was supposed to be a party after all. Lihito slung an arm over your shoulders. You laughed a awkwardly. He took another sip of his beer. Okubo slung an arm over your shoulders, he already had an arm around Kaede who looked equally uncomfortable. “Want me to pour you a drink?” Kazuo slurred. The older man’s cheeks were dark red. He looked a lot happier than usual. Ohma was stone sober. “I’ll pass.” He replies dryly. “What about you Y/N?” He turns his attention to you. “Haha once again no! I’ve got things to do tomorrow! I’d rather not have a hangover!” You laugh. Lihito giggles, his head slumps over, landing on your shoulder. “Come ooooon Y/N, loosen up a little!” He giggles. You push on his cheek, trying to put distance between you two. “Nah I’m good.” You say rolling your eyes. Ohma shoots up to his feet suddenly. He’s never felt like this before. His whole chest is burning. His throat is tight. He wants to beat the shit out of Lihito. But he also wants to fuck you into oblivion. Maybe he’ll do both. He trusts you, he can see you're uncomfortable. He’s not angry. He doesn’t know exactly how to put this feeling into words. He feels jealousy. But he doesn’t know that. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you home Y/N.” Ohma says dryly. You gaze up at him. His whole body is rigid, he looks like he could kill. However, You can read him like a book, he pissed. You stand. Lihito’s hands fall to the couch. “Heeeey where are you goin?” He whines. “The party is just startin’!!” He slurs. You just chuckle, taking Ohma’s hand. He squeezes yours tight, he locks eyes with you. Oh if looks could kill, a shiver runs up your spine. He’s never looked at you like this before. You gulp as Ohma pulls you towards the door. You gather your things and wave your friend group goodbye, despite all of their protests.

The chilly night air hits you. You wrap your jacket around you. You walk hand in hand with Ohma. Though his walk is much more brisk with yours. His strides are wide, he’s in a hurry. “Sweetheart, slow down!” You laugh under your breath. He growls in response. You’ve only ever seen him like this before a fight. His whole body is tense, his brows furrowed. Normally with you he’s only got a gentle smile and his eyes are soft. Now he’s practically dragging you behind him as he makes his way briskly to your home. You’re concerned. You know he won’t hurt you, but he’s just being different. You stop walking. His feet stop as well. His hand is still in yours. He tries to tug you forward but you don’t budge. You stare intently at the back of his head. “What’s wrong Ohma?” Your voice is filled with concern. “You’ve been acting different since the party.” Your eyebrows are pinched upward with worry. “Did.... something happen?” You ask almost timidly. There is a silence in the air. Ohma remains quiet. He is frozen... unmoving. He finally speaks. “You.....” you blink at him. “Me? W-what did I do?” Your eyes are filled with worry. “You belong to me.” He speaks calmly. You blink again. You understand what’s going on now. “It was Lihito wasn’t it? And Okubo? Oh- You know they’re harmless. They were just-“ “Y/N.” He sighs. “Ah- Ohma! You have nothing to worry about-“ before you can finish. He spins around. His lips are smashed against yours. You squeak in surprise. He shoves his tongue in your mouth. He’s exploring your maw, you try to fight back but he forces your tongue into submission. His fingers are entwined in your hair. He gives is a harsh tug causing you to gasp. Your jaws open more for him. His wet muscle is dominating you completely. He’s practically fucking your mouth with his tongue. It’s sloppy and rough. He tugs your lips away from his by your hair. There are ropes of saliva connecting the two. Spit is dripping off of your chins, both of your huffing and trying to catch your breath. His dark eyes meet yours. You whine as his fist tightens on your hair. “They need to know who you belong to.... Everyone needs to know that you’re taken for.” He growls. He places his hand on your cheek, thumb stroking your soft flesh. “I am yours. I am yours and yours alone.” You state proudly. You see Ohma’s lips twitch into a smirk. “Yes. And I am yours. Forever.” He replies. Your heart throbs at the sweet confession. “Y/N?” You lick your swollen lips. “Yes Ohma?” You stare lovingly into his eyes. There’s a confident smirk on his face “I’m going to fuck you senseless tonight.” He growls darkly. You freeze. Excitement runs through you “H-Huh? What?” You stutter out. Did you hear him right? “I said I’m going to fuck you senseless.” He hisses with complete confidence. “Everyone. Everyone in the world will know that I’m yours. Everyone will know who knocked you up.” He snarls. You instinctively squeeze your legs together. You’ve never seen him like this before. Instantly there’s a sticky wet feeling between your legs. “Ohma.” You squeak out. There’s a wild look in his eyes. Suddenly he’s sweeping you off your feet and he’s dashing towards your home. He’s got a smirk on his face. He’s got a feral look in his eyes. He rounds the corner to your street. Ohma sets you down in front of the front door. You’re desperately fumbling the Keys out of your purse and to the lock. Ohma is breathing heavily. The second the door cracks open Ohma kicks it open, pulling you inside. Heat is pooling between your legs. Your desperate for him. He slams the door shut, locking it. Immediately he’s ripping of your clothing without warning. You barely have enough time to think now all of your clothing is in shreds. “Ohm-“ he smashes his lips to yours before you can speak. You want him to take this to the bedroom but he’s too desperate to breed you. The floor it is then. To your utter surprise he spins you around, you’re on all fours now. The two of you have never used this position before. Ohma’s pants along with his underwear pool around his ankles. Without prepping you he lines himself up and snaps his hips to yours. His sneakers squeak against the floor as he tries desperately to get as deep as possible inside you. He begins a strong pace right off the bat. His hips slap against your ass. His thrusts are strong and deep. You and Ohma usually used condoms, but here he was fucking into you bareback. It was a strange yet wonderful feeling of Ohma’s raw cock pummeling into you. It felt so fucking good being taken by him so roughly. Ohma loved the feeling so much. For the first time he was feeling how warm and wet you are around his dick. Usually Ohma was always extra gentle with you, no matter how many times you begged him to more aggressive. He wouldn’t budge. Now here he is fucking you like some feral animal. You press your cheek to the floor. You try to push back and meet his thrusts but your whole body feels like jello. All you can really do is scream beneath him- and you can use you words. You want to say so many things. They sound so wonderful in the heat of them moment but you always end up embarrassed later. When you’re getting fucked so good you can’t control your mouth. “Ohma!!” You scream. He growls behind you. “B-Breed me Ohma! Ah!” Did you really just say that? His pace quickens. He’s fucking into you aggressively now. You scream beneath him. “I’m gonna fill you up so good.” He groans above you. Your pussy quivers at his dirty words “I’ve got so much cum to give you.” He purrs as he sinks his teeth into your back. His heavy balls slap against your core over and over again. You groan. “I can’t wait to see you all round and swollen. Everyone will know who did that to you.” He growls in your ear. You’re close. You’re orgasm creeping slowly. Ohma notices the way you tighten around him and the way your thighs shake. He reaches around you to stimulate your clit, he rubs small quick circles. You arch your back. It’s too much! Your head was spinning, unable to think of anything besides Ohma pounding deep into you. The pleasure has taken over your mind. With this position, he’s reaching deeper inside you than ever before. The muscles in your pelvis tighten. You feel a knot forming.Then a snap. You lose all control of yourself when your orgasm hits. All you can do is writhe and scream as Ohma helps you ride out your orgasm. Ohma doesn’t stop he doesn’t slow down after you cum. Your toes curl, feet twitching possibly trying to kick him off. It’s too much- your eyes roll back into your head. Your brain is glitching. Your whole body feels like TV static. Finally Ohma buries himself as deep as possible. His load is huge. You whimper as you feel yourself getting filled up with hot virile cum. Ohma humps you softly though his orgasm. Your pussy milks out every last drop. Ohma pulls out and catches his breath. You collapse on the floor, also trying to catch your breath and hopefully regain a couple brain cells. You collect yourself. Then, You feel Ohma’s fingers on your cunt. You look over your shoulder to him. “Damn. Started dripping out.” He says sighing. He lifts you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He lays you down softly, he then removes the rest of his clothes and climbs into bed behind you. He pulls the thick warm blankets around you, making a perfect safe nest. You feel his foul thick cum beginning to seep out of your poor sopping pussy. But most of it is pushed back in when Ohma slides his cock back inside you. You whimper, feeling yourself get stretched out again. You’re deliciously overstimulated. You throb around his cock. His thrusts are short, just barely rutting himself into you. His muscular arms are wrapped around your waist. Your legs twitch as he holds you to him. He growls in your ear. He cums quicker this time, filling you up again. He doesn’t pull out. He keeps himself rooted deep within you, essentially plugging you up. You catch your breath during the long cockwarming session. Then the process repeats itself. You don’t know how many times he releases his load inside of you. You don’t know how many times you orgasmed. But by the time you hear Ohma snoring behind you your belly is swollen and you feel like you’re going to explode. His arms are still wrapped around you, flaccid cock still snug in your pussy. His sperm will most likely take. His seed is planted deep within you. You will become one. You can already imagine family life. You smile to yourself. You and Ohma have been bound together by love, and hopefully soon with a child. You feel safe in his arms. Exhaustion takes you over. You close your eyes and finally drift off to a deep dreamless sleep.

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years

Text

The Missing Piece

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader(Platonic)

All I Wanna Do Continuation

Warnings: Swearing. Angsty.

A/N: I know this was only meant to be a two part series...but I'm hopeless. So I present to you; Part II of (?)

It had been a couple days since y/n ran into George in Diagon Alley, revealing the hardest of truths to her long time friend. That being of her secret child to one Fred Weasley, conceived only the day before his death. The one whom she kept secret from her whole old life in London, after running from it. Marcos was the Weasley no one knew existed.

It had been more than difficult when George discovered the truth, seeing a young Fred with peircing y/e/c eyes barrell towards the two adults during a casual conversation between old friends. It'd hurt George more than he thought it were possible to hurt, no injuries sting ever coming close to the one he felt that day. However, after a night spent bonding with his newly discovered nephew and multiple nights of y/n explaining everything to him. From the night before the battle; which involved a little too much information in Georges opinion, to the day they accidentally crossed paths, he'd found a way to forgive her.

He'd been so angry in the beginning but now that they'd spoke and he saw her side none of that mattered. He couldn't stay mad. Not really.

It turns out though that y/n and Marcos had been staying in a small Muggle Inn as y/n searched for a place to relocate whilst Marcos reddied to begin his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Something which George refused to stand for, and so that's how for the past 4 days the two had been living happily above the store of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, number 93 Diagon Alley.

George hadn't been happier in so long, to have someone else living within the flat with him. To have someone to come home to. A family no less. Y/n felt the same way. But that didn't mean the dread of letting the rest of the Weasley family in on her dirty little secret were any less prominent in her life. Even George had to admit he was nervous as to how they'd react.

Of course since Marcos had learned of the additional family members, he were yet to meet, he'd been pestering the pair as to when he'd finally get to see them. So, often y/n and George found themselves up late planning the right way to go about it.

They'd decided on a meal at the Burrow with the entire clan present. No exceptions - meaning Dragon Boy himself, as well as the Workaholic. They'd worked out all the kinks through countless Owls flown tirelessly back and forth and it was settled.

Tomorrow at 5pm, the three (two as the family expected) were to arrive via the Floo network, in accordance with the fact Marcos had never travelled by Floo before and was eager to experience it. Though if you asked Mr and Mrs Weasley the reasoning, they'd say the pair simply preferred that way.

At 4:52pm, the day of, Marcos could be found waiting eagerly and very impatient by the fireplace of the Twins flat. "Come ooooon, Mum!" He whined staring to his uncle and mother fussing over whatever he-knows-not, whispering seriously to one another by the kitchen counter. "In a moment, bud." George answered, receiving a huff in response.

George had his hands placed firmly on y/ns arms to steady her as he spoke sternly, eyes fixed directly onto hers. "Everything is going to be okay. I'll be with you the whole time. They're going to love him." "It's not him I'm worried about." Y/n croaked, voice thickly laced with emotion, "I know this is what's right and he'll fit in perfectly, that they'll love him unconditionally. But what of me George, I kept him from all of you. How could they ever look at me again. Let me in that house again. I know it sounds selfish but I'm not worried for him at all. Because it's what's right. But just because it's the right thing to do doesn't mean it makes this whole mess any easier. There wouldn't even be a mess if it weren't for me." Y/ns head dropped, picking at her nails in attempt to distract herself from the burning that set in behind her eyes and in her throat.

"Hey." Lifting a delicate finger to the underside of her chin, George pulled y/n's attention back to him, "You did what you thought was best for you at the time. What you did wasn't easy and I understand it now, just like they will. Once you explain and they meet him...there's no way they can stand against you. Okay? It's going to be okay." The whites of y/n's eyes burned red as she held back the tears which were ready to spill. All it took was a nudge, in the form of a tight comforting George Weasley style hug, to knock them over the edge.

"Can't you hug when we get there?" Marcos groaned, rolling his eyes in frustration this causing his Uncle chuckle. Y/n pulled back and looked to the clock on the wall, 4:59pm. Wiping the few stray tears still running down her cheeks she stepped toward her son. "Sorry sweety." She smiled sadly, fixing his hair. "Why are you crying?" her son asked simply. "It's just...it's just been a very long time since I've seen any of these people. It's got me a tad emotional. Don't worry, we can go now." "ALRIGHT!" The boy yelled excitedly, jumping into the large fireplace. George placed a hand to y/ns back, guiding her in next to Marcos as he grabbed a handful of powder and stood to the boys other side.

"Everyone ready?" George spoke with a wide-eyed, unnerved expression to y/n, "ready!" Marcos bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly while his mother, unknownst to him, offered back a grimace and shrug. "Yeah that seems about right" George spoke more to himself. Looking back out over his living room tight-lipped he grasped the boys shoulder, "The Burrow." He dropped the glittering dust in a swift motion and the three were quickly engulfed in vivid green flame. Here goes nothing.

This dinner would be the first time everyone had been together in years. Since the war if you were to include y/n in the family head count, which Molly did. So as you can imagine she had been fussing over every nanodetail to ensure the whole night went perfectly.

"Molly dear, you must try to relax. You've out done yourself, everything looks splendid and they'll love it." Arthur assured his wife, with a light kiss to her cheek. "I just haven't seen her in so long, not since...well-"

Y/n and Molly had shared such a close bond as she grew up alongside the Twins. The sort of connection Mothers dream of having with their daughters. Y/n came to her about absolutely everything; classes, grades, bullies, boys. There was nothing the two couldn't talk about. So when y/n disappeared after the War, well to Molly it were as if she'd lost another part of her family: the pain she felt neared that of losing another child. That day Molly Weasley very well lost a piece of herself.

It was no wonder her emotions were currently running ragged at the thought of finally seeing her again.

"I have so missed her." "As I'm sure she has you but that is no need to overwork yourself dear, come sit in the lounge." Arthur directed his Wife back from the kitchen to where the rest of their family were gathered.

"Jeez mum, wish you loved us that much." Charlie joked over his mother's flustered form. "It's just y/n" Ron groaned. "The house looks lovely, Molly. But Arthur is right. You must relax." Fluer spoke from her place beside Bill. Though she appreciated the sentiment, their words did little to soothe her excitement and nervousness over tonight. "I know, I'm sorry everyone I'm just so excited to have her back. It's been so long after all." Arthur had his arm placed over her shoulders, stoking her arm contently as she stared to the clock on the wall. 4:52pm.

The group fell into comfortable conversation as they awaited the final two guests, all far more excited to see y/n than they'd care to admit aloud. This would be the first time any of them had seen her in over a decade.

A loud crash and a flash of green from the kitchen alerted the family huddled within the lounge just as the clock struck 5:00pm.

"Oh! They're here!" Molly spoke excitedly. George was the first to step out of the fireplace, ruffling his hair to rid the ash which coated it's ends: appearing like smoke from a flame as it hung from the ginger locks. The family moved quickly from the room, essentially jumping from their seats, to come greet them, however they were suddenly halted.

"Before you all swarm us!" George declared with palms raised towards the group, "there's a little uh-...announcement to be shared first. Or rather an introduction. You see we've brought someone with us." He looked back over his shoulder to y/n who was staring up at him with scared eyes as she trembled slightly in fear of what was to come. She glanced back to her son, hidden by the corner of the large stone wall of the fireplace before looking back up to George as if to say 'it's now or never'. "Just...try to have an open mind." His eyes were pleading for his family to understand even if they hadn't the foggiest what was going on. All their faces contorted as they looked between one another in confused anticipation.

George lowered his hands with a nod satisfied no one was going to tackle them in a crushing embrace or otherwise hectic greeting typical to that of the Wealsey family. Turning to the side so he no longer stood infront of y/n and the wall of the fireplace he encouraged his friend to continue. Y/ns eyes barely left George, aside from a quick nervous flick back over the gathered audience.

Turning back determinedly she reached her arms out for Marcos to hold, helping support him as he stepped down from the slightly elevated floor. There's a kind smile on his face as he moves toward the sitting room where the family is waiting. George places an arm on the back of Marcos nudging him forward slightly, with a nod to y/n, who is staring teary-eyed at him, breath hitching as she starts to panic. "Everyone..." he turns back to his family, "this is y/ns Son, Marcos." "Hello" he says simply with a warm smile.

Everyone looks like they've seen a ghost. Staring silently with mouths agape.

Though covered head to toe in soot his firey red hair sticks out like a Dragon in a flower patch. The Weasley hair. Not just that, it's his face. His entire body. His voice. It's everything but his eyes.

Marcos is quickly becoming uncomfortable as everyone just stares at him, this wasn't what he'd expected. He looks back over his shoulder to his mother. She steps forward and grabs his hand, placing her other on his shoulder, looking to George for strength as she speaks quietly, "I know I have a lot of explaining to do" she swallows hard looking back to the pale faced Weasleys, "but this has been too long coming and it couldn't wait any longer. If George's reaction is anything to go by I know you all have quite a few words to say to me. And I'll hear them all. I deserve it for what I've done."

Marcos looks up to his mother confused, what had she done? For all he knew they hadn't met simply because they lived in different countries. That's no reason why she'd be in trouble is it? He looks back around the room then to George who smiles warmly to him in reassurance. "Sorry isn't enough I know, but I am. Truly. It's time though, Marcos needs you. He needs his family."

No one says anything. Though all silent there's a mixture of strained emotions held within the room. Many teary eyes. Some white knuckles and poorly hidden anger. But mostly it's shock.

Bill's looking around his family, worried, someone needs to say something. They can't just stand there any longer gawping. Dropping Fluers hold he walks forward, heads turn at his sudden movement. He squats infront of Marcos smiling as he shakes his nephews hand with both of his "It's nice to meet you Marcos. I'm Bill," he turns slightly on the spot to point towards his partner, "that's Fluer, my wife." She offers a small smile and wave, then Bill turns back to face him "I'm the eldest of your uncles." He states proudly, "And the coolest" he winks speaking the final line in a whisper. Marcos smiles, whispering back "But Uncle George said that he's the coolest" "yeah don't listen to him, or any of the others - there'll be a lot of that going around." Bill chuckles.

Marcos starts to relax at his uncles attempt in conversation. Y/n and George smile sweetly to one another but with nerves still evident in their expressions. "How did you get your scars?" Marcos asks abruptly. "Marc-" y/n warns, "ah, now THAT is a pretty awesome story" Bill grabs both his hands in his once more, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet etching ever closer to his nephew as he readies to tell the story, "you see there was this fight, at Hogwarts, before the War where I was up against this Werewolf-"

"Alright, alright, Bill, don't hog the boy with your boring old Greyback story." Another redhead interrupted, walking forward from the group to push his brother to the side, Marcs face contorted in confusion, brows furrowing and head falling to the side. Did he just say his story, with a werewolf, was boring!?

"I'm Charlie" the man knelt before the boy smiling widely "and I am by far cooler than these ones don't listen to them." "How are you cooler?" Marc asked "I work with Dragons." He widened his eyes in mock surprise before smiling again. "REALLY!? DRAGONS!?" Marc lit up like a Christmas tree. Charlie turned his head over his shoulder with a smug shit-eating grin on his face as he taunted his siblings for the reaction he'd elicited from such a simple statement. "Yep. Dragons." "Do you have one!? Can I see it!? Are they really as dangerous as everyone says?" Marc was firing questions at him quicker than his breath could carry, his enthusiasm endearing and contagious as the rest of the family made their way to make their introductions.

"Move it Charlie" stated a firey haired young girl "Merlins bollock!" "Marcos, Language!" Y/n warned but her son paid no mind to the woman too engrossed in the individual before him. "I know you! You play for the Hollyhead Harpies!" It was Ginnys turn to grin smugly to her brothers as they were pushed to the side. "It's lovely to meet you Marcos." She hugged him warmly. George and y/n stepped back a couple paces to allow the family more room for introductions.

Y/n was quietly crying as George had his arm placed securely around her back listening along to the excited conversation of everyone present, her son in particular, each time he was met with a new face. Until it seemed to reach a peak.

"YOU'RE HARRY POTTER!" "There it is." George whispered amusedly in y/ns ear. "The one and only." Harry smiled, "I must say, you look so much like your father. Except the eyes of course you've got-" "-my mothers eyes. Yes. So people keep telling me." Marc nodded with thin lips, this being maybe the hundredth time he'd been told so. "Sorry, trust me, I know that line gets a bit old." Harry smiled to himself.

Y/n was wrapped up in the various pieces of conversation that met her ears as more introductions were made. She always felt something had been missing from her life, she assumed it were simply Fred. She was wrong. This is what she was missing. They were missing from her.

They were her missing piece.

"Hello, my boy, I'm Arthur - your grandfather it'd appear" he stated warmly very much liking the sound of that. "What do you do?" His grandson asked curiously. "I work with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts in the Ministry. Tell me..." Arthur began in a firm murmur, "do you know how exactly a 'microwave' works? I've been told it is a box which produces heat a-" "Daaaad not now!" Ron had grumbled. "I'm Ron. I'm an Auror with the Ministry" "like Mr Potter?" "Exactly." "Wicked".

"Greetings, Marcos. I'm Percy" came the next, posh, voice. "Hello, what do you do?" "I work within the Ministry-" Percy began before being interrupted by a sarcastic voice, "yeah don't worry about that one, Mate. Percy is in no running for the favourite uncle." George had spoke loudly causing a wave of chuckles to issue through the room.

Everyone was so warm and inviting and excited, it made y/ns heart swell. Hand placed to her chest as the other muffled her quiet gasps as joyful tears fell from her eyes. It was perfect, until she noticed something.

Where was Molly? Her eyes scanned the room, she was here not a moment ago where had she...

George noticed her shifting gaze and tensed posture. "Something the matter?" He whispered before his own eyes scanned the crowd of people. She needn't say a word as realisation struck swiftly, causing him to straighten himself. Dread flooded his body. "Don't fret, love" he whispered once again, gently rubbing her shoulder blades before taking a step towards Charlie - the closest member of his family - tugging on his shirt sleeve. Charlie leaned himself back towards his brother, eyes not leaving Marcos, nor the smile leaving his face. "Where's mum?" George asked. Charlie shrugged in response with a slight shake of his head "no idea".

Worry set in across Georges face, caught by Ginny across the room, whose head fell to the side as she silently asked the question, mouthing a simple "what?" To this George mouthed back "Mum?"

Her gaze quickly fixed to the room, brows furrowing as she noticed her mother's absence. Ginny looked back to George, shrugging she mouthed "up stairs?" George grimaced. It wasn't like his Mother simply to disappear. He certainly hadn't expected such a reaction. Given the circumstances, she should have been the first greeting him. With a suffocating hug and some offer of food.

"One sec" Ginny mouthed, holding up a finger while she quietly ascended the Burrows staircase in search of Molly.

George placed a firm hold around y/n again as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Ginny returned a few minutes later, arms wide with a shake of her head to let him know her search came up empty. George nodded a thank you, turning his head over his shoulder toward the kitchen. Empty. But the door...the door wasn't latched.

With a final squeeze to y/ns shoulder and a light comforting kiss to the top of her hair line he left her side for the first time since they'd arrived.

Y/ns arms wrapped around her body feeling far too vulnerable in the moment without George by her side. But she knew he had to be the one to find her.

Charlie's attention had been turned to the pair as he noticed Ginnys shrug in their direction. Looking just in time to see George walk towards the door as y/n tensed, insecurities and anxiety setting in.

He was unsure how to react. On the one hand he was ecstatic to discover he had a Nephew, one which oozed confidence and joy. One exactly like the Brother he'd lost. He fit like a puzzle piece into their lives, filling a hole they thought would never be filled. Though the cracks were still there, and he could never truly replace Fred - not that they'd want or expect him to, Marcos was the missing piece they needed in their lives. More than any of them probably realised.

On the other hand, however, Charlie was angry. Worse than angry. He was full-fledged fucking furious. Not an emotion usually acquainted with Charlie Weasley, the most carefree and open minded Weasley in the clan. To think someone he considered a friend, no. family. For years could just up and disappear from their lives, hiding this boy from them, this part of their family from them for more than a decade...it was a thought that made him sick. Feeling his throat close over and stomach turn at the disgusting lie he'd been unknowingly living. Talk about hard pills to swallow. Could he look past this?

Staring at the girl infront of him he did what he's always done. He began to reason. As painful as this is he knows there's two sides to every story and lashing out in anger is not going to solve anything. So he looks at it from her perspective; she'd just lost the man she loved. Perhaps she didn't know at the time she was pregnant? After that she ran, he remembered the last time he saw her. She'd broke down saying she can't stay in England any more, he'd thought it was just the emotions talking but she was gone days later, once everyone who'd died were buried. So she ran, and found out she was pregnant. She was alone and grieving and terrified. Still he couldn't see why she didn't think she could come to them. That was beyond even his reasoning, he assumed she'd explain all of this in due time. Until then what she really needed was for them to be there for her.

So, swallowing all those festering venomous thoughts he stepped toward her. Placing a tentative hand to her shoulder with a brief half smile. She looked to him defeated, his name falling from her lips in a sigh the beginning of an apology followed as she trembled before him. He silenced her with a shake of his head, wrapping her within his arms in a hug to let her know everything would be okay. "We're here for you" he whispered simply.

As George stepped out of the house in search of his Mother, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the bright unfiltered sunlight beating down overhead, he scanned the hills and the veggie patch - where she wasn't. Walking slowly he headed for the back garden - where she was.

Sitting with her back to him on their concret garden bench, her posture was stiffly straight but her head hung low. The light sniffle of her nose told him everything he needed to know about her current emotional state. He had been fully prepared to find her seething with anger, afterall she had never been afraid to cry infront of the family before but anger was something she rarely liked to broadcast. Unless of course a scolding was in order for her children's bad behaviour. But here she was crying.

He placed a gentle hand to her shoulder unable to think of the words to make his presence known. She jumped at the touch before placing a hand atop his own. "Mum?" He asked hesitantly, she didn't speak, only wiped the fresh tears which had fallen from her eyes with the corner of her appron. George moved to sit next to her, hand not leaving her shoulder. He patiently waited for her to speak knowing it best not to force any conversation.

His eyes travelled over her face; eyes puffy and red, lip trembling slightly. Then down to her hands which both now played tensely with her frayed appron ending. He always hated to see his mother so upset, usually he had a joke to crack making her smile but since Fred he had trouble 'picking up the slack', as it were. Never able to break an awkward silence the way Fred had. He needed that first line from another to prompt any sort of sarcastic or witty remark. Hate to admit it but he were a tad envious of his twin in that respect.

After several long minutes Molly spoke. "Oh, George..." she sobbed defeatedly. His attention was immediately back on her face, waiting for her next strangled set of words. "He-he...he's..." "he's not mine." George nudged playfully in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere but it comes out a tad sad in his opinion.

"He's so much like him. Exactly like him if not for the..." "eyes." George spoke, smiling fondly at the thought, "he has his mother's eyes." Molly faced him finally, "Why'd you leave?" He questioned. Gingerly running a hand through the hair above her sons scar she replied sadly "It was just too hard." And more tears fell.

"It's hard for all of us Mum, I know it's a lot and this would be the last thing you'd ever expect to come from the fireplace but it's what came. And through all the bad and confusing you need to see the good. You have a Grandchild. Your first. What you've always wanted." "But George, it's not-he..." "he looks exactly like Fred, sounds exactly like Fred and acts exactly like Fred. But he's not, I know. He's not Fred. But he's a piece of him. More than what we had." Molly was shaking with tears now as George spoke with her. A similar burning taking root behind his eyes, but he had to hold strong. The family needed that right now. "I know it's hard, believe me when I found out I-well...let's just say some bystanders were scared they were about to witness a murder" he chuckled. "I'd never been so angry. But y/n explained everything. She talked me through it and she'll do that with you. With everyone. You just have to give her the chance."

Molly scoffed slightly as she let out a long breath. Looking up to her son her heart swelled to think she was able to raise such a strong, passionate and caring young man. She'd never been prouder of him. Seeing how, through everything; the war, losing Fred, finding out the truth about Marcos. How he managed to stay that compassionate and loving young man she always knew...it was beyond her how he could do that.

She'd lost so much during the wars. In the first she lost her brothers, and countless friends, then she lost a son to the second. When had she lost herself along the way? It was then she knew she needed to be the mother he deserved. That they all deserved, stronger than she had been before. She had to be with her family now. The family which just grew by a member. "What do you say, Ma, Ready to meet your Grandson? Cause you know I've been telling him all about how his Grandmother is the world's best cook. Don't know how much longer he's going to be able to wait for one of your homemade apple pies I've been telling him so much about."

Molly began to smile through her light tears before her face dropped completely. "Oh no!" She'd near shouted placing hands to her mouth, jumping from her place on the bench and startling George in the process. "I didn't cook any apple pies! I didn't think to! Usually we only eat those on very special occasions and- well, yes of course this is the most special occasion...but I had no idea!" Molly paced back and forth fussing over the fact she had no pies prepared "oh, George, you don't suppose he'll be too disappointed do you? I'm sure I can whip up a batch before dinner. Oohh but I haven't any apples! I'll have to run to the store".

George sat smiling fondly as his mother twidled her fingers together stressfully. It was endearing he thought, how quickly her priorities change. It wasn't till she started running her hands through her hair and down her appron he knew she needed to be calmed down.

He stood, placing both hands to her elbows to stop her pacing, looking down to her with a grin "Mum...relax." "oh George but the pies!" "MUM! How bout, first things first...you meet the boy." Silent laughter radiated through his chest as her eyes flew open "oh of course! How could I be so selfish! Do I look okay? I don't want to come across as some nutter" "doesn't matter how you look, you'll ways be a nutter." Molly smacked her son's arm as he laughed.

Slowly the two made their way back inside, his arm tight around her shoulder. He found it concerning at how slow she were walking but knew this was a difficult situation.

As the kitchen door swung open all eyes fell to the pair. Marcos was sitting on the small coffee table of the sitting area as everyone was gathered around, filling him in on anything and everything he wanted to know. Y/n was tucked closely under Charlie's arm on the sofa. Everyone went quiet once again as the two rejoined. Y/ns eyes flew to George who nodded at her, letting her know everything was okay.

Y/n was the only one to move as George and Molly approached the group. She stood, grabbing Marcos by his hands and moving him towards his Grandmother.

He stood straightly, smiling before her as y/n knelt beside him. "Marcos, this is Molly. Your Grandmother" y/n smiled sweetly but nervous up to Molly who only had eyes for the boy infront of her. She had a hand placed to her mouth as she held back glistening tears. "It's nice to meet you" he held out his hand for her to shake, but she didn't move to take it.

"Wait for it" George smirked knowingly. Marcos dropped his hand slightly, head falling to the side in confusion. Wait for wha-

Molly instantly swooped down, engulfing the young boy in a bone crushing hug as a heavy breath left her throat. "We're so glad to have you here, my boy." She let him go, leaning back to place his face between her palms smiling brightly through joyful, unfallen tears. "Bit peaky, what's say we begin dinner" she asked warmly. "That sounds nice" Marcos mumbled through squished cheeks.

"Come, this way Dear," Molly placed a hand to his back directing him to where they'd be eating, fussing over the boy more with each step.

George and Y/n watched on as her son happily seated himself at the table and Molly began piling various foods onto his plate as the rest of the family did the same from the lounge, basking in the small moment shared between Grandmother and Grandson.

'This is how it should always have been' Y/n thought with a heavy heart. There was a calmness in her mind as she watched on, replaying the way the family had greeted the pair as they entered. Things might just work out better than she had feared. Might.

#harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #George weasley x reader #fred weasley/reader

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kooriicolada · 4 years

Text

Zack/Cloud - Soulmate AU

for @kitsunebaba Prompt: Cellphones between soulmates are in the same condition (cracked screens are in the same places)

PROMPT LIST READ ON AO3

Zack's hip deep in swamp water, phone miraculously dry, when he goes to call Angeal. Right before he can thumb the call button the plastic goes crack and the phone falls apart in his hand. It's the second one this week to bite it. If his phones weren't provided by ShinRa he'd be crying at this point.

"Come ooooon," he whines.

With a groan he drops what's left of it into the swampy water he's standing in and then hauls one leg up out of the sucking mud and takes a step. Then another, then another. When he made First he was never going to take these missions again.

Whatever it was that had created the weird lifestream based bond with cellphones was the worst. Reception might be amazing since they were carried via the wave output of the lifestream but…. Was it really worth this?

Was it really worth having the person your own soul was closest to mean your phone broke when their's did? Sometimes he wasn't so sure. The whole soulmate concept was great on the surface but whoever Zack's was they couldn't keep a phone in one piece to save their life.

With a final squelch Zack drags himself free of the thick mud and onto firmer land. Angeal is waiting for him a few feet away.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look murderous, Zack," Angeal says. "You don't pull it off well."

"Laugh it up, man," Zack grouses. "My phone broke. Again." Angeal's chuckle is as rich and deep as ever and Zack wants to punch him for a moment. Then the bad mood leaves him along with a sigh that sounds more like he's deflating. "How come you're not covered in mud?"

"First class technique," Angeal says. "Maybe I'll teach you someday."

Zack slumps all the way down in a crouch, filthy hands curling in his filthy hair and lets despair take him.

"For growing up in Gongaga you let a bit of wet and mud get to you."

"It's more than a bit, Angeal!"

—

There's a janitor stepping off the elevator as Zack gets onto it. The dirty look he gets just makes Zack slump more. The man steps off the elevator and pointedly begins to mop the trail of muck up where it trails to Lazard's office and then back again.

"Sorry," Zack says meekly as the doors close between them.

He steps back off in the lobby, glad that the muds dried enough that he's just leaving little flakes instead of an entire slug-like trail. He's walking down the steps out front of the building when he realizes he hasn't gone to requisition a new phone.

"Damn!" he yelps and one of the suits nearby startles and drops a folder. Turning on his heel, Zack trudges back up into the ShinRa building and back to the elevator. He just wants to go home.

—

There's a trooper in one of the little plastic seats in the requisition office when he gets there, clutching his helmet on his lap alongside a paper number. Zack grabs his own number and slouches down near him, one seat between them. He's a people person by nature and waiting rooms just make him want to gossip.

The requisition desk is the worst. They like to leave you waiting even when they're clearly not busy. Like now. They particularly like to make him wait because he's here just about once a week.

"So, what's got you stuck in req?" he asks after what feels like a half an hour but in reality is probably two minutes.

The trooper startles and looks up at him. Huge blue eyes through sunshine blond fringe. He's adorable. His eyes widen a little as he takes in the muddy SOLDIER gear then he looks away. His face goes from surprised to sulky.

"Phone," he says. "Broke it in a fight earlier."

"Oh man, same. Well the phone part. My soulmate trashed mine."

Private Pretty Eyes' scrunches his face up. "I try not to think about that."

Zack slouches back in his seat, ignoring the shower of dry mud that flakes off him. "Aw, not interested in the soulphone connection?"

There's a long, drawn out connection that's followed by a heartfelt groan. "Not when people call it that," his new friend spits. He sounds like an offended cat. Zack loves it. He grins, staring at the wall ahead of him in an effort to avoid laughing at whatever expression he's getting.

"When I meet mine," Zack says, "we're going to have a long conversation." His new friend makes a slight noise which Zack takes as an invitation. "This is the third wrecked phone this month. Two within a week."

"Oh," the trooper says, quiet as a breath.

Before Zack can ask one of the workers at the desk calls, "Strife. We've got your new phone."

'Strife' rockets out of his seat and over to the desk. He takes the sleek black box with it's ShinRa logo, shoulders hunched. "Thanks."

"That's three this month. If you break another one you'll have to wait until next month."

Strife shoots Zack a wild-eyed look while he's poleaxed by possibility and high tails it out of req. His immediate thought is to run after him, but for once in his life Zack sits, thinks, and then grins.

As soon as he's called up to the desk to order his new phone he says, "Can you give me the cute blond's phone number?"

#Zack/Cloud #Clack #Final Fantasy VII #FF7 #Soulmate AU drabbles

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dearlazerbunny · 5 years

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Never Any Doubt

Pairings: Mori x Reader

Genre/Ratings: G; no warnings apply

Words: 2000

Summary: in which Hikaru messes with Mori’s girl, and Mori isn’t very pleased. Written for @casey-anne-j, who requested some secretly engaged Mori x Reader! Not sure this is exactly how I see it in my head, but I hope you enjoy anyways :)

Then

Getting off the plane is a strange mix of elation, terror, anticipation, and hope.

Sure, you’ve visited Japan before, more times than you can count. You have Haneda International memorized like the back of your hand at this point. But there’s something about this ticket being a one-way trip… it puts all sorts of butterflies in your stomach. Despite a year of planning and arrangements and traveling back and forth in preparation to get you settled in an entirely new country and culture all the way across the world, you can’t help but be nervous watching all the pieces fall into place.

But then you see him waiting for you opposite the terminal, and you’re reminded that all the way across the world is exactly where you want to be.

You don’t run to him- you have a little more self control than that- but you’re giddy as you dodge businessmen speaking rapid-fire into bluetooths and lost tourists with their face in their maps. He’s here, you’re here, and for the first time you don’t have to go home. You don’t ever have to say goodbye to him ever again.

The moment he sees you, his eyes light up, bright as the sun shining through the window behind him. You can see a navy blue rose tucked into the pocket of his sweats, making you grin- a reference to his host club status and a running joke between the two of you. You don’t even bother saying hello first; just go up and press a kiss to his lips- he’s already bowed to meet your height- one hand on his cheek and the other twisted in the soft fabric of his hoodie. You stand like that for a minute, a reunion captured in time amongst the bustling crowds around you. When you finally separate, there’s a matching smile on both your faces.

“Hi,” you giggle, running a few fingers through his hair- he has a perpetual case of bedhead that you never can keep your hands out of. “I’m here.”

Mori tucks you against him, pressing another kiss to your head. “You are,” he says, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. “Welcome home.”

Home. Home became synonymous with ‘wherever Mori is’ such a long time ago. The way he says it makes your heart melt- you know he’s been counting down the days to your move just like you have. He expertly takes your bag from you and slings it over his shoulder, then lets you thread your arm through the crook of his so he can guide you out of the airport and into Japan’s bright sun. Every moment you’re by his side banishes the nerves in favor of something lighter and easier in your chest.

It’s the beginning of the rest of your life, and you couldn’t be happier.

Now

“Hi guys!” You knock on the door of Music Room 3 and poke your head in, looking for any stray students. “Am I interrupting?”

The club is gathered around a center table in various states of casualness after the end of the day’s activities. Honey is munching on leftover cake and tea, Haruhi simultaneously paging though a book while swatting away the twins looking over her shoulder, and Kyoya humoring Tamaki as he waxes rhapsodic about who knows what. Mori takes it all in silently, a small but content smile on his face.

“Not at all,” Kyoya says drily, with a sarcastic undercurrent of please, save me. “We’re quite finished for the day.”

“Y/N-chan!” Honey is quick to run over and wrap his arms around your waist, and you ruffle his hair fondly in return. “Do you want some cake?”

“Depends,” you say, dropping your bag on the nearest table. “Do you have chocolate?”

“So much chocolate,” Haruhi deadpans, gesturing to the nearby table laden with pastry. “I think all of the chocolate currently in Japan is in this room.”

“Sounds good to me.” You pop over to give Mori a nudge on the shoulder before joining the group. “What’s the point of being ridiculously rich if you can’t blow it all on dessert?”

Both Tamaki and Honey give noises of affirmation while the rest of the table groans almost in harmony. “Please, do not encourage them,” Kyoya says, and you give him a teasing wink.

An hour later, all of you are spread out around the room in your own conversations and activities. You’re on one of the couches playing the twins in some video game they’re obsessed with, and failing miserably at that. The others’ conversations fill the room with friendly chatter, making the whole place feel homey and cheerful. “Oh my god,” you groan, desperately tapping your phone screen in effort to keep your character from dying- again. “You guys keep cheating! Stop ganging up on me!”

Hikaru snickers to himself loudly as Kaoru goes in for the winning blow. “Hate to break it to you, Y/N, but you just really suck at this!”

You sigh as the GAME OVER screen rolls yet again. “I really hate you both,” you say, exasperated at and fond of the troublemakers.

“Nah, you can’t hate us,” Kaoru protests, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah, we all know that we’re your favorite hosts,” Hikaru continues, a cheeky grin on his face. “We’ve seen you looking at us; we know you like what you see.”

“Oh, please, you guys wish.” You roll your eyes. “Play the damn video game.”

“Hmmmm.” Mischief sparkles in the redhead’s eyes. “How about we make the stakes a little more… interesting?”

“Why, brother dearest, what do you propose?”

“Whoever wins-” Hikaru leans in conspiratorially- “YN has to kiss.”

“Guys-!”

“Oh, you’re SO on!” The two of them launch into the next level with fervor, their thumbs flying over the controls. You let your head fall back against the back of the couch so you can make eye contact with Haruhi, who is similarly entertaining her own ridiculousness via the blonde-haired Tamaki. Help me, you mouth to her silently, and she immediately comes to your rescue:

“Hey, Y/N. Come see what you think of Tamaki’s plan for next month’s gala.”

“Of course!” You wedge yourself out from between the still furiously shouting twins and trot over. “Anything you need, Haruhi!” You give her a grateful poke to the side and she grins at you.

Tamaki’s plan is… elaborate, to say the least. But what else is new? Something about a river cruise- really you’ve stopped keeping up with his crazy schemes a long time ago. You just smile and nod when he gets really excited about it and trade eye rolls with Haruhi until he runs out of steam. Mori catches your gaze occasionally as well from across the room, subtly checking in on you without saying a word. You shrug at him with a good-natured grin-

Right into Hikaru, who’s leaning over your shoulder with a downright devious smirk. “Hey, Y/N. Guess what?”

“What?”

His eyes twinkle. “I won.”

You snort. “For the five billionth time. What do you want, a medal?”

“Nah, we made a bet, remember?” Your eyes widen just a hair as you belatedly remember the twins’ teasing.

“You’re such a nuisance,” you say, pushing him away and thinking he’ll get the hint that you aren’t interested in joking- not about this.

“Come ooooon, Y/N, one little kiss, it’ll be fun-”

“Hikaru-”

“You know you want toooo-”

“Hikaru-”

“Stop.” Mori’s voice is quiet but undeniably peeved. He’s appeared behind you without you even noticing, and you unconsciously back up until you’re brushed against him. Safety is a silent savior.

Hikaru gives him an annoyed glare. “Mori-senpai, we’re having fun, calm down! It’s not like Y/N’s taken anyways, I bet she’s never even kissed anyone!”

You cough nervously. This… isn’t how you wanted any of this to go. Do you tell him? The both of you are so private, you thought omitting your little relationship would be for the best, but-

Luckily, both Mori and Haruhi decide for you: Mori wraps one of his arms around you in an obvious show of possession while Haruhi chimes in. “Hikaru, you are such an idiot. They’re engaged for god’s sake!”

And if that didn’t just make everyone in the room go still. There’s a few precious moments of silence. And then-

“Wait, what?”

“They’re what?”

“How did you guys not know this?!”

“How did you know this?!”

“For god’s sake can you please just-”

“Uh, Hikaru, maybe you should apologize-”

Amidst the chaos, you and Mori stand as a pair, his arm still around your shoulders holding you to him. You glance up at him, head resting against his chest, looking a bit bewildered. “Well. I guess that settles that.”

You can’t quite decipher all of the emotions flitting across his face, but from the way he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, he can’t be all that upset.

“Wait a minute.” You insert yourself back into the general conversation. “How many of you knew?”

Honey raises his hand, fork still in his mouth. Kyoya puts his hand in the air next, then Haruhi. “Okay, you two-” you point to Kyoya and Honey- “obviously. But Haruhi, I never-?”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re wearing your engagement ring around your neck. I’m not stupid.”

“Oh. Right.” You feel for the chain that’s been hanging close to your heart ever since he proposed. If you couldn’t wear it on your finger, you at least wanted it near you. “I guess that’s kinda obvious.”

“Mmm, yeah.” She pokes a finger at you. “How long has it been?”

“Uuuum. A year now? Ish?”

She smiles satisfactorily. “That’s what I thought. Congrats.”

“Okay, hold on!” Of the three formerly-oblivious hosts, Hikaru is fuming and Kaoru is nervously glancing between the parties. Tamaki is over in a corner doing his black-and-white cartoon sulk thingie. “You just moved here a year ago! How did you two even meet? This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well, we actually met over in the US.” You glance at Mori and he nods; encouragement to tell the story. “My brother competes in Kendo as well. Takashi promptly handed his ass to him in the first round, and I thought it was so funny I went over to thank him in person.” You grin as you put a hand up to Mori’s arm, letting yourself relax into him. “Things just kinda went from there I guess?”

“They talked all the time,” Honey chimes in. “And Y/N-chan visited us too!”

“Then, given their plans for engagement, Y/N made the move to Japan a little over a year ago,” Kyoya finishes smoothly. “Given the private nature of the Morinozuka family, they thought it best to hold the announcements.”

“We were waiting for graduation. But I couldn’t stay away for that long, so. Here I am.” There’s another soft kiss to the top of your head, and you grin up at your boyfriend- fiancée- like he rivals the sun.

“So,” Mori says, his deep voice on edge. “I think it best you apologize.”

“Takashi.” You give him a poke. “He was just kidding, he didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, I mean I never would’ve- if I’d known-” clearly still confused, Hikaru shakes his head. “Sorry, Y/N. Mori.”

“See, it’s fine,” you reassure Mori, tugging out the ring he gave you so many months ago from under your shirt so he can see it catch the light. “I’ve only got eyes for you, remember?”

There’s a satisfied rumble in his chest, and his arms tighten around you, making you giggle. “And I, you.”

You lean up to give him a kiss on the nose. “As if there was ever any doubt.”

#takashi morinozuka #ohshc mori #ouran hshc #ouran fic #mori x reader #mori x you #reader insert #OHSHC #ohshc imagines #ouran high school host club fic #ouran hshc fanfic

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nightblink · 7 years

Text

Blink Reads Oathbringer - Chapters 22-30

Chapter Twenty-Two – The Darkness Within

MRAIZE IT'S FUCKING MRAIZE SHIT SHIT ABORT MISSION AB O R T

She's definitely referring to Adolin as the whitespine here, hinting entirely unsubtly that she believes he (or at least a Kholin or one of their army) killed her husband. But does she have information we don't know about? Also, mark 2 for Adolin being associated with whitespines.

Go Adolin, that is exactly what needed to be said. And! Ialai's actually listening! She's treating Shallan like little more than a servant, though, and that is a very deliberate slight to her honor/authority.

!!! So. Ialai has no idea of Mraize's Ghostblood affiliations? Okay, okay, I'm now less on edge regarding this interview.

Oh shit, Shallan, he knows. Did you honestly think he wouldn't have that tidbit of information?

“You killed Jasnah.” Shallan. You just said yourself last chapter that you (a Radiant) could survive a sword through the chest. I'm amazed that you haven't put two and two together yet.

Ooooo. The “wrongness”? Was there some Ancient Evil in a Can that was unleashed when the Alethi came through the Oathgate? Well, no matter that or something else, “securing Urithiru” is a goal you can both get behind.

The little snub with the tea is perfect petty revenge (coupled with a bit of power maneuvering).

AMARAM. Goddamn it, I thought you were discredited! Only among the Kholins, it seems, Damn it. And Shallan still thinks you were the one that Killed Helaran. This is going to be a shitshow.

And Adolin's first thought is 'Kaladin isn't going to like this.' Ahhhhh, bless.

Adolin, you did well, even if you did almost punch her. You may not be good at politics, but you manage.

STORMS ARE BACK.

Chapter Twenty-Three – Storming Strange

Deceiving an honest person, Kaladin? [gasps] But hey, you and the Parshmen will be safe. With any luck, staying out of the storms will also mean they won't be exposed to Odiumspren of any kind.

Everstorm Count: 2 passes

Heh, he's a stubborn old man, Kal – you might not be able to slip this one past him. ...or not, that works too

The spren “have a destination in mind”. That does not bode well. Odium will need an army, not just a Champion, and turning them all in one place might be his plan rather than leaving them in smaller numbers with a better chance of getting overwhelmed by Rosharan forces.

Speaking of things the Parshmen stole from you, have you been checking back with the spanreed to- Ahhh, no, they took that too.

The spren! Stone/earth associations at the moment; perhaps flame, but that's colour alone. Still not entirely sure what kind of spren she is.

...I think she suspects, Kal.

Chapter Twenty-Four – Men of Blood and Sorrow

“Dalinar remembered.” That alone is enough to make me screech and bounce around the room, he remembers, he remembers-!

“not true golden, like the hair of the Iriali” okay Sanderson I will give you this but I'm still set on very subtle metallics, which is quite reasonable given the shared heritage between the Iriali and Rirans

Okay, so not a whole lot of memories returned, but still. INFO ON EVI. AAAAAHHHHHH-

“He didn't remember love” I have the feeling that that's going to change. You don't do something as drastic as going to the Nightwatcher to forget her loss if wasn't a pain that pierced deep.

What was your bargain with the Nightwatcher, We still don'y actually know. Sanderson, this better get explained later. Currently I'm of the opinion that the Nahel bond is interfering with it somehow.

Oh no oh noooooo, it's Taravangian. What are you planning…

“this man had been a friend to Gavilar” - and Gavilar was likely part of the Diagram as well, in that case and considering the political and military power he wielded

Or. Or not. Five years ago must have been when it started, and Gavilar was two years cold by then.

NEW RADIANT NEW RADIANT. Malata. No indication of what Order she is, but to work the Oathgate she has to have a living Shardblade, so there's no question there that she is one.

And here I thought assassinations weren't very Alethi, Dalinar.

What a way to drop the chapter title, ooof. That's something for Dalinar to think on.

Navani with the power dress, awwww yeah.

[winces] And they're underestimating Taravangian immensely, as he probably planned.

DUSTBRINGER. DUSTBRINGER DUSTBRINGER DUSTBRINGER TELL ME WHAT THE OATHS ARE, TELL ME-

I… had not considered that she might have one of the other Honorblades rather than being a Radiant.

“Lore about people dealing with their curses, and seeking any cure for them, is practically its own genre.” And now I want a peek at in-world novels covering this.

Oop, and the Stormfather confirms that it's not the Nahel bond causing the memory resurgence. There goes my theory.

Well. That Tukari “god-king” seems… unhinged. He's not going to roll over anytime soon, and I worry that Dalinar might end up fighting a war on two or more fronts here. Negotiation isn't going to do anything.

No one believes that you won't attack. No one believes that you, in particular, have changed, and what reason would they have to do so? No more than they do to believe that the warring Alethi will do anything else either.

How much of a tyrant will you be, Dalinar Kholin?

Chapter 25 – The Girl Who Looked Up

The sketch-picture page preceding this chapter is really unsettling. Seriously, Shallan, you need a therapist.

The note before the chapter isn't particularly reassuring either.

Perhaps there is information here, and you just haven't delved deep enough to find it.

A theatre! Oh man, yeah, Pattern would love the theatre. THE BEST KIND OF LIES.

Acting out the play with stormlight figures! Excellent practice for moving illusions that are separate from the Radiant.

Bit of an Attack on Titan vibe going on from that wall and the lack of wondering about its origins.

Eyeless crowd? Creepy, Shallan. You'd better save some of that spherelight for your walk back too.

“All but one” WAIT. WHAT. A shadowy figure? Spren or human? Considering Shallan, could be either.

Aaaaaand she's slipping into Radiant's personality again. Again the name changes.

Why the different light-versions of yourself? To confuse the shadow? To light the room? What…? I'm confused.

Oh, shit- Yeah, spren. With extra body horror.

She's changing personalities even easier than before. It seems she's still consciously doing it, but she doesn't have to spend any time getting into the mindset of another personality anymore. It simply flows.

Rock? It attacked Rock? Like Shallan stabbed the Horneater called Ur at the bar. And after Sadeas, that mirror-murder was a soldier. The spren – it has to be this shadow-spren - it's looking for at least some physical commonalities in its choice of victim. It's not just murder it's reenacting either – just. Violence. Maybe there needs to be blood involved? Or an emotion like fear?

“I don't want to be blind anymore.” Oooo, another seeking secrets. This definitely won't be the last we see of you, Ishnah.

Chapter Twenty-Six – Blackthorn Unleashed

MORE EVI MORE EVI-

So the Heralds are still 'worshipped' in Iri, even if the names are changed, and they have a similar practice of burning prayers. The largest difference is the 'god' at the top of the chain – possibly split between Honor and Cultivation, or perhaps the origin of the Iriali's 'One' stretches all the way back to Adonalsium.

Oh, you'll know in a few decades what it takes to earn the ardent's displeasure, and by then you'll care more about it as well.

I love Evi already.

Dalinar “what are hugs” Kholin

AYYYY SEBARIAL~~~ not showing up. [snickers] Trying to play both sides to the end while not fighting himself.

Oh interesting. The Plate belongs to Evi and not her brother? Considering the accusation that they 'stole' it, it's not a question of which one has a more legitimate claim to the Plate, so it was decided that the Plate would go to Evi. Huh.

Ryshadium! And you tell that by that fact that they're followed by musicspren. That's… unexpected. Some connection to the Listeners and their Rhythms, or perhaps the Dawnsingers?

Oooo, Dalinar is not feeling charitable right about now – probably still mulling the possibility of fratricide over in his brain. “Stay out of my way” indeed.

[winces] He revels in the death and destruction and men fall by the dozens with burned-out eyes, so different from the Dalinar we know. This is deadly momentum – something had to change even before the night of Gavilar's death, a decision of some kind, or Dalinar would probably have looked to Herdaz or Jah Keved next and steamrolled onwards until he dropped dead.

…..that redness does not seem normal , even for the Thrill. I'm sensing something else going on.

Kadash? I though you said in the future that you left after the battle at the Rift? ...huh. There must be a second time they fight there, because you're still here.

“He felt sad to have to engage a Shardbearer, instead of continuing his fight against the ordinary men.” That's…. You're not addicted to the fight. You're addicted to the kill.

Slate-grey plate even way back then. Even before the Codes, you were never one for ornamentation.

Oh! That's Elhokar's Shardblade, Sunraiser!

'Bloodstance – a stance for someone who didn't care if he got hit.' No details on what that stance looks like? Come ooooon. Still, if it was an unarmed man against a Shardbearer, that's be one thing. Shards against Shards? This could get ugly.

This fight would be so brutally good animated.

Loving the change in setting when they get to the peak, and then the change in style that the terrain necessitates. The surge of bloodthirst in the Thrill, however...

[winces] That thirst for killing isn't abating, this is not good… and there's Gavilar. Within running distance, in possession of a heart that beats and things that Dalinar wants. This is it, this is when he considers, but it he actually going to go for it, shit shit shit, he is, shit-

And stops at the last second. Stormfather.

You do deserve shamespren.

There's it, that's the decision. 'I must never be king.'

Picture at the end of the chapter: Did we really need to see the oozing horror of that spren? Did we really? [shudders]

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Playing Pretend

Shallan curled up all comfortably is a good sign. The fact that the strange shadow-figure is definitely some kind of Odium-spren, not at all. Also not encouraging is that Shallan refers to “Radiant” as if she were separate.

Something is cutting off their lines of communication. Deliberately. Fuuuuuuuuuck.

I support Aladar in the use of some judicious ass-kicking.

YES GIVE US MORE ON THE NEW MAYBE-RADIANT. 'Spark' is a good name for a spren, but that bit about destroying things… We need to know what kind of spren the Dustbringers bond to. Now.

Oooo, so she's not on board with uniting the Radiants despite the fact that she is one? That's new – we haven't seen Lift or Szeth since Edgedancer, but this is the first new 'Radiant' to appear that's come and announced her dissatisfaction, even if it's to Shallan and not Dalinar the Bondsmith.

Ialai and Amaram. How are you two going to throw a wrench into proceedings this time…?

Oh shit. Oh shit.

“Everything I've done is for the greater good, Dalinar. Everything.” [Obi-Wan voice echoing in the distance] 'From a certain point of view…' Ugh, Amaram, you slime. Somehow you keep rising in power and authority and you do it all in “““acceptable””” ways. Can we punt your sorry ass to Braize to burn yet.

“Highprince.” “Highprince.” “Bastard.” THANK YOU ADOLIN

It's a good thing Dalinar “suggested” he leave and take a moment or he'd probably punch Amaram right there in front of everyone, then at least once more since Kaladin's not there.

Oh shit, you're telling him you suspect Amaram killed Helaran? Whoa. On one hand, I love that you're opening up and trusting someone, on the other, this could complicate things when it comes up that Kaladin is the actual one who won-

Adolin knows. And he's telling her in return. Ffffffffftttttttt-

And there she goes trying to repress the knowledge. Doesn't seem to be working this time.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck she doesn't remember drawing those pictures. Slipping one personality into the dominant state of mind is one thing, but this is even more worrying.

Ooo, going to bring your men sort-of into the plan? Whatever the plan is? ….please don't intentionally get any of them killed.

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Another Option

Wait, wait, wait. No. Bad idea. Don't destroy (or try to destroy) your Oathgate. That is a terrible idea and have you run this past Gawx and Lift yet? Have you done the right paperwork for this?

At least he has Shallan's report on the murderspren now. It's not comforting that it has peepholes everywhere. Watching. Waiting.

Surge practice! You need it Dal, you're the most unfamiliar of the lot with your abilities.

Adding 'mink' to the list of Rosharan critters. But do we assume for now that it's furry like an Earth mink, or some sort of carapaced version?

“garnet-lit tongue” - probably an equivalent of what we know as silver-tongued

Yeah, everyone still thinks that you're going to use your new Fast Travel to conquer them. Considering your history as well as your country's, I can't blame them for the reluctance.

Bridge Four needs him, but not for a murder- oh. They found the sword. Oh. Stormfather is not happy about you even touching that, much less carrying it around

Oh shit is he taking it back to Ialai?! Yes, yes he is. Makes sense, but handing another Shardblade over to Amaram gives me bad shivers.

Speaking of which, FUCK OFF, AMARAM

[winces] He's not wrong on the point about hypocrisy, I have to give him that much (even if it pains me) and Dalinar needed to hear it. However, it's tying back to Dalinar's realization after his vision of Nohadon, when he found out that he must have written the in-book The Way of Kings once he'd already solidified power. I wonder if he'll realize that…?

Oh goddamn it, not Taravangian

They're talking… religion? And The Way of Kings. Taravangian is going to interpret some of those stories or morals in a vastly different way than Dalinar, I suspect. Either that or he'll confirm Dalinar's, and we the readers will be left screaming in frustration

Dalinar, Dalinar, he's advocating that the ends justify the means, do not follow down this path…

“But sometimes a hypocrite is nothing more than a person who is in the process of changing.” And you have changed so much from the man you once were, Dalinar. You don't deny that.

Wait, what.

The Stormfather confused is hilarious.

I am cackling over the thought of Dalinar storm-projecting to the other monarchs. Not accepting my invitations? Fine, I'll just barge into your head during a Highstorm! CAN'T KEEP ME OUT NOW~

Chapter Twenty-Nine – No Backing Down

Back to Veil again, and worrying about Shallan's mental state.

Her description of the thing she saw, that she knows is watching – the sound of a tunnel extending into darkness, the feel of breath on the back of your neck in a dark room – I'm definitely creeped out. Consider me creeped.

Do your soldiers know you as Veil, or do they only know Shallan? Ahh, just Shallan. So it remains that only the Ghostbloods know about your dual (at least) nature.

A fingering joke, are you kidding me. Well, at least he's taking her rejection with nothing more than an ah well.

Her personalities are delineating themselves, becoming more distinct and real unto themselves. But was it any of these main three – Shallan, Veil, and Radiant – that drew the disturbing pictures? She remembers what she does as those three, so what if there's another personality lurking, submerged, that she doesn't know about….? I am concern.

Yeah, I thought it might be the hanging rather than the bashing. Given the choice, it'll probably go for the more violent of two acts.

Well if that isn't a mouth to the void… [shudders] Shallan, I don't like the thought of you staying here alone, especially since this Hellmouth is somehow in your sketchbook and you don't know how it got there.

I am very concern about your personality shifts, Shallan.

Well, Pattern may have worded it in such a way that he overstated the danger, but still, good to see that Adolin is taking all the precautions he can, even if that means two men in Plate, a second Radiant for backup, and the entirety of Bridge Four.

Renarin is definitely sensing something too – this wrongness that permeates the city. But! B4 accepting him! Needling fun at him and treating him like any other part of Bridge Four! Ahhhh, Renarin, I'm so glad to see people other than your family appreciating you.

I'm with Drehy on this one. Fuckin' nope.

Down into the abyss, which… has colour down below? Mosaics of Honor and Cultivation? Was this once the true center of Urithiru?

Renarin's carrying a Shardblade which must be (is most likely???) Glys, but we get no visual description? Come on, Sanderson!

Truthwatchers and Lightweavers share the Illumination Surge. Perhaps their ability to sense the wrongness - “illuminating” the hiding shadow, if you will – is tied to that.

[winces] Jasnah is not going to be happy at finding the library she sought ruined.

…..oh no.

oh fuck

“One of the Unmade. Re-Shephir… the Midnight Mother.”

Okay, one: ten rubies says that this thing is the origin of the Midnight Essence that Dalinar saw in his vision of the past, back in the first book. Two: Renarin how the fuck do you know what it's called? Are the Unmade part of general Voidbringer lore in Vorinism? Three: time to beat a hasty retreat

Of course Adolin's going to dash right in to cover the retreat, Shallan, what did you expect?

And now we finally get a bit of description of the Glysblade(?) - “long and thin, with a waving pattern to the metal” - still no indication if curved or straight, but my current guesstimate is katana-like

BATTLE CLERIC RENARIN, FUCKYEAH

Shallan. Shallan what are you doing.

Fighting shadow with light. Yessssssss.

Well then. To fight or back down? You noted only moments ago that she could have swept you away with little effort. With light in the hands of a Lightweaver, will that be enough to do… whatever it is you're planning?

(Side note, what else am I a sucker for? Oh yeah, battle couples. Goddamn it.)

“The pain of an Ideal sworn, but not yet overcome.” I'm going to sound like a broken record with the way I keep repeating therapist. You need to face this and talk it out, Shallan, and with another, not-Pattern person.

“She was those women, those girls, every one of them. And none of them were her. They were things she used, manipulated. Illusions.” And Veil is among them as well. I'm. Not sure what to think of this, if she's thinking it in a literal manner or on a deeper level. It could be a sign of self-realization, or it might not.

Whatever it is, everyone is screwed if you don't manage to at least make it retreat.

[yells loudly about safehands as a sign of intimacy and trust and that's the method through which she's letting the thing in – and pressing back in return]

Chapter Thirty – Mother of Lies

That title alone is unsettling.

“not completely aware, not completely cognizant.” So, like pretty much all the other non-bonded spren in the Physical Realm, except this is definitely a Thing Of Odium. And it immediately tries to tear the Nahel bond apart.

!!! She's a true Splinter then?

It's gone all dark and Pattern's physically there in his larger form – I'd lay spheres that they're somehow halfway into (or at least dipping a toe into) the Cognitive Realm.

They bound her. One of the Unmade, and a Lightweaver of the past actially managed to bind her. But with all these shadows coming up into Urithiru… I doubt that's the case right now. She was freed, or broke free. And now she remains close, though deeper in the bowels of the mountain.

….you could hold a lot of stormlight in those gems.

#oathbringer spoilers #blink reads oathbringer

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satorisa · 7 years

Text

To celebrate over 100 notes on my Ignea oneshot, have another one-shot that takes place during the beginning of Chapter 7. Mostly follows Noctis, Prompto and Ignis, but I do hope you still enjoy it nonetheless!

Ignis loved feeling the breeze tousle his hair so long as he wasn’t relegated to the back seat of the Regalia. In those situations, it felt like a maelstrom buffeting his styled hair out of its firm yet flexible shape, an omen heralding his impending death.

And on that particular day, exacerbated by the absence of his back-seat neighbor either snoozing away or reading, he was sure that he was, in fact, going to die.

Oof.

His seatbelt knocked the wind out of him as Noctis, infamous for his sharp turns that came without warning, took a left onto a particularly gravelly road.

“Sorry, Ignis.”

“No need to apologize,” the older man grumbled. “I’m glad that you’ve taken an interest in using the road less traveled; however, I do advise that you slow down before all this bouncing knocks my glasses off.”

Prompto snickered from the shotgun before positioning his camera, taking bursts of snapshots as they whizzed by. The calming hum of the engine and distant ebb and flow of the water by the shore gave way to the topic—abandoned earlier because of Noctis’ god awful driving—at hand of obtaining the mythril and dealing with Gladio’s sudden departure, only to be forgotten once more with another outburst from Prompto demanding to take a picture by the Vesperpool.

“Can it wait for Gladio?” Ignis mused.

“And miss a shot like this? No way! It’s the big guy’s fault he went AWOL.”

Noctis easily pulled into an open space, half-enclosed by moss covered rocks, by the out of place Chocobo meter. The men filed out before following a worn path between two of the rocks, with Noctic silently taking the lead, Prompto oohing and aahing behind his lens, the main purpose of their mission immediately lost to him, while Ignis rounded out the back, avoiding the patches of wet ground.

They made it to the shore, polishing off a herd of Sahagin to clear out the area before Prompto set up the camera. Compared to when they had first left the capital, the young man had certainly become more efficient at setting up and taking down the trifold since the whole ordeal took less that fifteen minutes including Prompto fussing over the batch of photos until he found the perfect shot. (The first time they had done this, out in the sandy and rocky expanse of Leide, the tripod had toppled precariously before falling several times. Luckily, the camera survived, but they wasted so much daylight for one picture. And don’t get Ignis started on the incident in Duscae. How the camera survived that was beyond them. Really, Duscae’s lush greenery was a sight to behold indeed, but there was far too much water for him to warrant returning if he were on vacation.)

And now that they had gotten the sight-seeing out of the way, Noctis called the Chocobos, and they strode around to find the mythril. Ignis hoped, feeling the breeze blow through his hair, that this was an easy retrieval mission because, honestly, it would at least give him some semblance of control.

When he saw that familiar car parked in front of the entrance to some kind of ruin, Ignis had half a mind to trample over it with his Chocobo because my god, of course this situation couldn’t get any worse. But he stayed his ground, merely looking at the rather cute, vintage car with derision.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Noctis remarked.

“Does this guy have anything better to do with his time than, like, talk us in the middle of Mosquito-ville?” Prompto smacked his arm and groaned. “Of COURSE he’s here! He’s practically mayor of these bloodsuckers!”

“Didn’t I tell you to put on bug spray before we left earlier?” Ignis asked, playing into the light-hearted conversation.

“But that stuff stinks! I can’t live with myself smelling like it!”

“Plug up your nose, then,” Noctis suggested with a sly grin. Prompto groaned yet again before smacking his other arm, marring his slightly tanned skin with a splotch of red. “Well then, Ignis, what now?”

“We approach cautiously,” he answered, getting off his trusty steed. Ignis rubbed the head of his Chocobo before shooing it off, and it disappeared into the wilderness as a streak of yellow.

“Do we gotta leave them?” Prompto pouted.

“Would you rather they get into harm’s way?”

The young man, ever full of discontent, dismounted his own Chocobo before reluctantly sending it off. Noctis had done the same, albeit not so disinclined, and the group walked through the arch nearby and into the swampy waters.

“It’s getting into my boots!”

“Prompto!” Ignis hissed. “Silence is a virtue and, as of right now, a necessity!”

The water was getting into his shoes as well, squishing in between his toes and the soles of his feet. With each step, the mud pulled him in, and the murky water had seeped through the hem of his pants, crawling upward until it had gotten before his knee. Any longer in this state and even Ignis, paradigm of composure, would lose it.

And so, in a begrudging silence, they trudged on with Noctis, ever-present at the front, struggling to get through the terrain with his limp leg. Prompto had forgotten about his discomfort by coming to his best friend’s aid, helping the slightly disabled young man whenever he had gotten stuck. And Ignis, as always, rounded out the back, directing his attention to their surroundings to get his mind off his soiled shoes and protect the other two in case Ardyn decided to strike when they were at their most vulnerable.

“You…”

Hearing Noctis’ voice, Ignis snapped his head forward to see Ardyn off in the distance with that disgusting smile on his face. What the hell did that smarmy bastard have in store now?”

He had never expected, under any circumstances, to come face to face yet again with the woman that nearly killed him back at the Niflheim base. And because of Ardyn’s insistence, using Gladiolus’ absence as an incentive, the group had no choice but to listen to his demands and allow Aranea to accompany them to retrieve the mythril.

Honestly, Ignis would’ve rather succumbed to the swamp than have to deal with the flurry of emotions just the sight of her brought.

“The sun’s setting soon, so we can just stay here until the ruins open,” she suggested, leaning against the nearby column.

“No.”

Ignis raised his eyebrow, wondering what triggered Noctis’ snappy attitude.

“I want to camp out, eat something good, dry out my clothes, put some ointment on my mosquito bites, and sleep.”

He sounded just like a fussy child, and Aranea’s two underlings laughed, briefly relaxing their stiff posture. She shot them a sharp look, effectively silencing them, before she pushed herself off the column and marched in front of Noctis.

“I don’t like this situation any more than you do, but I certainly don’t want to extend it any longer than it has to be, so just suck it up and move it.”

“Come ooooon, Aranea,” Prompto chimed in. “Can we pleeeaaaaase rest?”

“We have had a long day,” Ignis seconded. “It would be wise to rest and prepare for what we may possibly meet in there.”

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Shaking her head, she ordered her men to fall out before she started walking off. “I’m not getting paid enough to babysit a royal and his whipped consorts…”

“Um, Aranea, the haven is that way.”

She shot a glare at Prompto, who ducked behind Ignis, before marching off in the right direction.

“Noctis,” Prompto started, “if anything goes wrong because she’s with us, I’m blaming you!”

#ignea #highspecs #ignis x aranea #ignis scientia #final fantasy xv #ffxv #my writing #fanfiction #ignis is full of cliches and asides and unnecessary snark because i am too lazy to fully edit this #but i just have one more one-shot left before I publish this elsewhere so yaaaaay #whenever i end up writing it that is #reuploaded because this wasn't showing up in the tags before #if you want your stuff to show up in searches DON'T curse in the tags #Orz

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