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delimeful · 1 year

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taking the fall (6)

warnings: arguing, animal abuse/neglect mention, guilt

Bewilderingly, Roman was now in the possession of a sword.

He’d been dumbfounded when the demand had been accepted, so certain in requesting it that he’d finally found a hole in the too-good-to-be-true arrangement that Logan had been presenting.

It didn’t count as an actual deal, he had told himself. Obviously, the human wouldn’t actually give his captive a hand-crafted weapon, which meant he wasn’t planning on fulfilling his end of the deal.

Thus, Roman was under no obligation to stick to the terms, and could make his grand escape without besmirching his honor!

Just over a week later, there was a sword hilt in his hand and a considerable amount of screaming in his head.

Had he really just signed himself up for a heaping helping of Stockholm Syndrome, all for the sake of a sword?

… Admittedly, it was a really nice sword.

“How’s the balance?” asked Logan, who was doing that thing where he studiously avoided looking at Roman while also clearly wanting to look at Roman. “I’ve made display weapons for background scenery, but never anything functional, so I had less experience than I would have liked.”

Dazedly, Roman gripped the hilt with both hands and swung the blade through the air, finding that it was both light and maneuverable.

“I imagine you’ll be better able to test it out once you’ve recovered enough to stand,” Logan said. “In the meantime…,”

Roman tensed up as Logan briefly ducked away, already anticipating some horrifying trial he’d have to endure in exchange for the weapon. He should have asked for a printer, instead. No human knew how to even fix those, let alone build one.

In the next moment, the human had returned with a small cutting board, which he set next to Roman very slowly and carefully.

There was a cucumber on the board.

“You’ve lost me,” Roman announced, because even he couldn’t make himself believe that Logan was going to use a vegetable to beat him to death or something.

“While conducting my online research, I found that those creating unusual bladed weapons typically show off the sharpness of the blade by easily slicing very thin wedges of items such as this one,” Logan explained, eyes glittering with excitement. “I also assumed you’d want to test the sword on something other than air.”

Okay, so perhaps Roman had lightly misjudged the kind of nerd Logan was, what with all the crafting and complex physics calculations and exactly none of the expected scalpels and/or test tubes. Despite himself, it was becoming more and more believable that this encounter wouldn’t end with him as a lab rat.

Unable to resist the urge to slash at something, he turned as best he could without agitating his leg, hefted the blade up into the air, and brought it down upon the unfortunate vegetable at full force.

The sword impacted the cutting board with a thunk, having sliced the cucumber into two smaller pieces. Roman whistled, releasing the hilt to shake his hands out. “That is sharp.”

“Of course.” Logan hummed thoughtfully. “I was concerned that you might not have the angle required, but I suppose your superior upper body strength compensated for that quite nicely.”

Roman was torn between irritation that the nerd was still extrapolating far more than he should be about borrowerkind and gratification that at least someone was paying attention to his finely-honed physique. Unfortunately, he was coming to realize that it was actually fairly difficult to maintain frustration with someone who had just given him a sick sword.

“Well, I suppose even someone as gargantuan as you would have to notice muscles of this quality,” he boasted, flexing in example. “But don’t write that down anywhere.”

“I already agreed not to take any notes,” Logan responded with a mild frown, though his attention had been pointedly shifted to his desk workstation. “You seem very concerned about the possibility of your existence being recorded. Have you had negative encounters with humans in the past?”

“No, I haven’t. Not personally.” Borrowers who had ‘negative encounters’ with humans didn’t typically live to tell the tale, and those that did were forever changed. Roman lowered his arms slowly, disheartened by the grim reminder.

Logan had begun absently turning a half-completed miniature lamp over in his hands, brow furrowed with clear discontent at the brief answer.

Well. It wasn’t like the human hadn’t already figured out he lived in the walls.

“I’ve watched plenty of humans over the years,” Roman elaborated, staring down at his clenched fists. “I’ve seen the way they treat small creatures, or oddities, or things that can make them money. That’s telling enough.”

“...All of them?” Logan asked.

“Enough of them,” Roman bit out in response, and then remembered just who he was talking to. He glanced up with no little apprehension, and his hand slid back over to the hilt of his sword.

Logan wasn’t even looking at him, his expression creased in a way that seemed more contemplative than angry. Roman attempted to shake off the abrupt dread, with slight success.

So far, the human had done nothing but respect his wishes, he reminded himself. No matter how Roman had snapped or sassed over the past couple of days, there hadn’t been any change in the care Logan had provided. He still received the same amount of food at the same times, and his leg was still treated with the same precise, gentle care.

He still wouldn’t be giving away any secrets, of course, and he wouldn’t get lured into a false sense of security by something as simple as basic decency.

But Logan hadn’t yet done anything to earn his ire, regardless of the bad memories his questions had brought up.

Roman floundered for a change of subject, and his gaze landed on the tiny piece of furniture still delicately clasped between Logan’s fingers. “Why do you make those miniature sets, anyhow?”

Logan’s head jolted slightly, his gaze flickering over briefly in surprise at the abrupt question. “It’s– my job. It started as a hobby, but I have several different regular clients now that I make to-scale models for.”

“And this one is for a play, right?” he asked, trying and failing not to sound too interested.

“It is.” Logan nodded slowly, and his glance this time was more considering. “Why did you venture inside it?”

Against his will, Roman could feel his cheeks heat up slightly. “Well– That is– I happen to also be a… supporter of the arts. I had to make sure it was up to standard, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Logan echoed with a slight twitch of the lips. “And did you find it lacking?”

“Of course not!” Roman replied, affronted. “It was a remarkably well-done construction, and I found myself truly impressed by the level of detail I could see everywhere I looked. I’ve been in dollhouses before, you know, and none of them could begin to compare. There was nothing lacking about the experience.”

He paused, contemplatively. “Apart from the resulting broken leg, I suppose.”

Logan wore a pleased little smile, entirely distracted from their earlier conversation. Point to Roman.

“That’s excellent to hear. I tend to be a bit of a perfectionist at times, so it’s reassuring to get a second opinion before I drop it off,” Logan said, picking up some small pliers to carefully bend a piece of wire into place on the lamp.

“You haven’t dropped it off yet?” Roman couldn’t help the slight excitement in his tone.

“I was planning to take it this afternoon, actually,” Logan replied, and hesitated as Roman drooped. “I don’t suppose you’d want to explore it further before I leave?”

“Yes! I mean. Sure, that would be alright, I suppose.”

–

There was something enchanting about watching someone walk through a set that he had created with his own two hands.

Or, more accurately, roll through.

Concerned that crutches wouldn’t be maneuverable enough– and often needed specific sizing anyhow– Logan had taken apart a few old prototypes to put together a small knee walker scooter, one that Roman had taken to like a duck to water.

He was rolling through the bottom level now, investigating the kitchen scenery and finding that all of it could be interacted with, though of course it wasn’t functional to the point of having running water.

Though that did sound like a fun project… Perhaps something he could include in a suite for Roman to reside in while he recovered.

Unless that would give off the wrong message entirely. His visitor claimed to be familiar with dollhouses, after all. The last thing Logan wanted was for Roman to think he was being treated like a pet or toy instead of a person and a guest.

He’d let the matter lie, but their earlier discussion still lingered in the back of his mind.

He hadn’t understood why Roman had been so vehemently against receiving care at first, so visibly terrified of him underneath all his posturing. A phobia, he’d thought, or some recent traumatic and unsettling experience.

As it turned out, understanding the logistics of Roman’s existence wasn’t the same thing as understanding the reasoning behind his actions, or his thought process. It certainly wasn’t the same thing as living that existence.

Roman’s terror was far from baseless. Logan had been a fool for dismissing it as such.

Logan winced just remembering the research he’d done on the pet trade, both exotic and domestic, for a college paper. From ‘easy’ pets that survived in barely tenable conditions for a fraction of their normal lifespan, to ‘cute’ ones that were shown off like prizes and then abandoned once they grew larger or more difficult, living breathing beings were commodified because they were small and powerless to fight back.

Roman had witnessed such abuses directly, animals his size unintentionally terrified by unknowing children, tormented by troubled teenagers, or neglected by ignorant adults. Sure, he had a voice to protest, but he had no way of knowing if his words would be respected or even listened to.

The moment he’d been seen, he must have been assuming the worst case scenario, because it was both entirely possible and completely out of his control.

No wonder he’d been terrified.

“Hellooo, you still up there, Specs?” Roman’s voice jarred him from his thoughts.

He adjusted his glasses hurriedly, and leaned forward slightly in his seat to see Roman better. “My apologies, I didn’t hear you. Yes?”

Roman tilted his head slightly, dubious, but let the excuse go. “I was simply requesting a lift to the second floor, seeing as stairwells and wheels don’t typically mix well.”

Logan barely avoided gaping. “You want— I agreed not to touch you?”

“Right, right, but I’m allowing it this one time in a show of good faith,” Roman announced grandly. “And also because my leg hurts.”

“I— if you’re certain,” Logan replied, feeling a cold sweat break out along the back of his neck.

He couldn’t imagine why Roman was doing this— he could see the tension that was lining the tiny man’s shoulders— but he wouldn’t deny him.

After a moment to assess the situation, he finally lowered his hand into the room and curved it into a sharp angle, a silent offering.

Roman took a deep breath, seeming to steel himself, and then pushed himself up off of the scooter and twisted to seat himself on Logan’s hand, leg held deliberately aloft all the while.

“Ready?” Logan asked, trying not to get distracted by the astonishing sensation of carrying an entire person in one palm.

“Most certainly!” Roman answered, his fingers digging into Logan’s skin like a panicked cat’s claws as soon as he started moving.

Withdrawing as smoothly as possible, Logan carefully moved his cupped hand to rest against the front of his shoulder for a moment, wary of his tiny passenger losing his balance.

It was much easier to use his other hand to pull the scooter out as well, and he swiftly resettled it on the top floor.

“There,” he said, and leaned forward to reduce the amount of empty air he’d be moving Roman across.

Roman’s grip had eased slightly, though what Logan could feel of a tiny heartbeat suggested he still felt some level of panic. It was entirely rational; when Logan himself imagined being held over a proportional drop like this by someone else’s strength, he felt a bit of vertigo at the very idea.

He half-expected Roman to scramble off of his hand the moment it was over solid ground again, but his movements as he slid off and hefted his injured leg back onto the scooter were almost sedate, if a bit stiff.

“Thanks for the lift,” he said, only sounding the slightest bit breathless.

Logan simply nodded a few times, his own heart rate still a bit spiked from the stress. After a moment or two of watching Roman poke his nose into every nook and cranny of the upper balcony, the sensation eased.

Perhaps he hadn’t messed up too badly, if Roman was willing to put this much trust in him.

#ttf #taking the fall #sanders sides g/t #ts roman #ts logan #my writing #writing #borrowers

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cha-mij · 1 year

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Ineffable Ambiguity

AO3 account - Chamij

Chapter Two: Athens 399 BC

Summary:

Aziraphale and Crowley meet by chance while visiting Athens.

.....................................................................................................

It had been another beautiful Athenian day. The sun was setting west of the Parthenon and Aziraphale thought it stunningly beautiful. He had always thought Athens beautiful. He had been walking along an avenue canopied either side by pomegranate trees. The silken red flowers bloomed overhead while the center of the road was decorated with plants and statues.

“Reminds me of the garden” Thought Aziraphale. “I wonder where that sword of mine ended up”.

As he took his evening walk, he came across a commotion. Hundreds of male Athenians had gathered and were clearly unhappy about something, though the shouting intermingled and became unintelligible.

“Is that you, Angel?”

Aziraphale turned and saw Crowley. Clothed in a black chiton with red rim and draped in matching chlamys to keep out the chill of the early summer evening. With his characteristic black eye pieces that hid his serpentine eyes from human glare, the red rim of the cloth added to the red of their hair to make Crowley look resplendent. Aziraphale smiled, then looked serious and fully extended his arm in protest

“Back, foul demon or feel God’s wroth as I smite thee!”

“You just can’t resist, can you?” said the demon, shaking his head.

“You never know who might be listening!” Aziraphale said for what must have been past the hundredth time since they had saved Job’s children together.

“Oh, do shush Aziraphale. You know no one cares enough to listen. Besides I doubt even heaven could hear you over this racket”.

They both turned and looked at the mob.

Standing ahead of the mass was a lone man dressed in pale blue. Portly, bearded, and attempting to look unafraid.

“This something to do with you lot, Angel?”

“I don’t think so. I assumed it was some hellish mischief since you’re here. It spoiled a perfectly lovely evening.”

“That man’s what you could call a friend of mine. He’s been on trial all day. This rabble are his so-called jurors.”

Aziraphale’s perplexity was obvious.

“What did he do that was so heinous? Is it something you made him do?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve tempted him to do nothing he wouldn’t have already done, and that is to face this trial with as much dignity as he can. His crime, Angel, was “corrupting the youth of Athens”. By that I mean poor Socrates there educated them until they asked questions about their deities.” Crowley looked down, and softening their voice added “nothing good comes from asking questions of deities”.

Aziraphale felt for his companion. They had fallen because questioning some of God’s decision making isn’t what angels were supposed to do. Crowley had created the Pillars of Creation which lay in the Serpens constellation and so their punishment after falling was to become a snake, and thus lose the ability to see the reds and yellows that made up the pillars. Able only to see the blue and green surrounding it. Aziraphale would never say aloud, but he had always thought that punishment particularly cruel. Crowley had turned bitter after that and had sworn never to see those pillars again. Aziraphale had met them right at the dawn of the nebula but had never heard their pre-fall name. Knowing them only as Crawley – the Serpent of Eden, and then as Crowley - the demon who went with hell only as far as they could.

Unlike almost any other being of hell Crowley still possessed good in them. Aziraphale had been surprised when, instead of having to be persuaded against for-filling their task to destroy the children of Job, Crowley had already plotted a genius plan to save the children, and thus fool both heaven and hell. Aziraphale, having struggled with the idea that God had wanted to destroy all that her favourite human loved simply to win a bet with Satan, had dared to try to save them and was shocked to find the demon had beaten him to it.

Aziraphale had learned two lessons that day. Firstly, that there was good in a demon. Secondly, that he could find himself at conflict with the affairs of heaven. He was greatly affected by the latter. It meant there was a chance he too could fall. For fraternisation, and for asking questions.

Socrates had given a valiant attempt at defending himself against the accusations of asebeia. He simply could not see how his refusal to believe that the gods did bad deeds like humans did could be classed as desecration. The mob, however, saw otherwise and demanded the death penalty.

Aziraphale and Crowley watched as Socrates was taken to his cell.

“I just cannot understand how God allows punishment for teaching people to question their surroundings”.

“You, Angel, must have a different God than I do”.

Aziraphale blushed with embarrassment. How could he have forgotten who he was talking to? He took Crowley’s hand and quietly apologised.

“I’m sorry my dear”.

“I know. Let’s get something to eat from the Agora, eh? Perhaps I could tell you all about Socrates?”

“I’d like that”.

The pair ate, drank and talked. The next day both were among those that visited the jail cell to suggest Socrates escape. Crowley outright planned to miracle him out of there, but instead listened quietly to Socrates’ resolution that he would never choose escape. He reminded them he could have asked for exile as punishment, but to leave his precious Athens under such conditions would be a fate worse than death. He chose instead to drink hemlock, and that day had been replaying in Crowley’s mind for months

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens s2 #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fan fiction #good omens spoilers #good omens fanfiction #fanfic #socrates #ao3feed #ao3 fanfic

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benjaminthewolf · 2 years

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Scarecrow (Lego Batman Games) Lol

Why the Lego versions specifically? Well, as my Batman obsessed friend said, it’s the only place he’s ever seen Scarecrow and Sinestro interact.

WARNING: Samesize

****

“Today, live from the streets of Gotham-”

“The weather this week seems like it’ll be-”

“ORDER NOW AND GET 75% OFF YOUR FIRST MONTH WHEN USING CODE-”

*click*

“UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH…” Lego Scarecrow positively groaned out in irritation as he promptly shut off the TV, placed the remote upon the side table, and grouchily crossed his arms. “Man… what is an infamous evil super villain like me supposed to do when I’ve run out of money for funding?”

“...well…I would say go on a bank heist, or at least that makes the most sense to me…” Lego Sinestro casually advised to his friend as he nonchalantly strolled into the living room. The two of them were currently hunkered down in one of the many villain hideouts that were sprinkled all generously throughout the city bounds, and as such were able to act somewhat normally towards each other, if but only for the time being.

“Well yeah I mean of course, like that’s kind of the obvious move, but what am I supposed to do for right now?” Scarecrow responded with a sigh.

“For right now?” Sinestro repeated back to the fellow villain as he settled down next to him on the couch.

“Yeah, right now, y’know, before I’ve got it all planned and all that stuff…”

Sinestro, now understanding his current partner in crime’s problem, thus simply proceeded to place a clawed hand underneath his chin and narrow his eyes a little, in order to focus better while he thought. “Well since you seem to be bored with the TV, we can pretty easily rule that one out as an option…”

“Yeah, tell me about it…” Scarecrow sputtered out in a scoff.

“.........hmmm.” Sinestro continued to ponder in silence before finally speaking up. “Well…of course due to our status as criminals, we can’t exactly just go in and out and start golfing someplace as we please, so we are kind of limited to things we can do in these walls for the moment.”

“...Okay, yeah, I’m following you so far…”

“Now, aside from the TV, which has already been ruled out as an option, there isn’t exactly much for one to do in here except for eating and sleeping, since this is a relatively shabby hideout overall.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really think either of those options are very ‘stimulating’, y’know, if you get what I mean, so there has to be SOMETHING else we can do to pass the time!” Scarecrow responded with a twinge of utter desperation in his voice. “Like…what are some things that the two of us could do as a pair that doesn’t exactly require anything else? I mean…we could do would you rather, there’s also truth or dare…or we could-”

It was only right there, in the silencing heat of the moment, that Scarecrow figured out just what, exactly, he wanted to do.

“...Sinestro?” he shakily let out.

“..........w-what?” Sinestro stuttered in response.

“I know EXACTLY what we’re going to do.”

****

“...aaaaaaalright, Sinestro…” Scarecrow excitedly called out to his friend after calmly placing the literally mere seconds-ago-used stretchy-inator device off to the side on the table, along with the acid resistance spray bottle to boot. “Ya ready to get this show started?”

“Ah, we’re just real lucky we even still had that stuff laying around…but yes. Yes I am.” Sinestro noted to himself before confirming.

“GREAT!” Scarecrow replied with a large head-nod and swift, assuring thumbs up before casually clapping his lego, clawed hands together and giving them the equivalent of a rubbing bout together, until finally, the infamous, villainous man gave a preparatory lick across his lips.

“Welp, I suppose this is it then!” he jovially snickered out. “So, without further ado…*ahem*. AHHHHHHHHH…uh…yeah, just keep still!”

Upon at last unveiling to Sinestro his bright green, goopy, glowing maw, his buddy was suddenly frozen in awe. Simply staying silent and stiff upon taking his time in observing the slimy, oncoming cave, the solemn, serious Sinestro was almost quite literally starting to feel all of those traits melting off his skin as his giggling, villainous partner longingly gave him a stroke across his cheek.

Scarecrow proceeded to take a moment to simply sample the flavor from the outside, merely allowing it to settle in upon his taste buds, as he began to fervently salivate with a shudder.

Eventually, however, Scarecrow knew it was time to fit Sinestro into his maw, and as such, slowly prepped himself to this end by letting his jaws unhinge and greatly stretch, finally gaping far enough for the reddened supervillan’s head to be easily slotted inside. Sinestro’s hair and scalp were subsequently scraped against the rough ridges upon the roof of the maw as he was squished down deeply into his partner’s tongue, the area’s natural warmth seeping deep into his skin. He wasn’t exactly minding all this though, of course, as he knew that pretty soon, he was, indeed, to become entirely enveloped in squishiness.

Scarecrow proceeded to cautiously grasp ahold onto Sinestro’s sides in order to better guide him on down whilst he carefully eased him back further. The upper body and chest of the man became sensually inched forwards as Scarecrow’s gullet opened wide before him, allotting him a preview of the esophageal walls and passageway as a result.

Finally, with a good chunk of the fellow villain’s chest situated inside of his maw, Scarecrow tilted his head back and let gravity slide him further down. Sinestro’s own head gave an inevitable strike to the plump, swaying uvula hanging right over the fellow villain’s gullet, right before finally lodging itself inside.

Scarecrow, with his drool positively trickling out of his maw, took a few seconds to casually rub over the slightly noticeable bulge that was Sinestro’s very being inside of his upper esophageal sphincter, before finally, after an exceedingly drawn out wait, pushing the man forwards, and all the way into his esophagus as such, with a squishy, audible gulp.

Now that Sinestro’s head and shoulders had found their way inside of Scarecrow’s throat, the rest of his torso was able to find its way forth and into his maw, as a result. Scarecrow felt the protruding force stagnate inside of his throat for a while as he moved his hands down towards the bulge. Similarly rubbing it over a few times, as best as one could, of course, with only clawed hands, Scarecrow swallowed again.

At this point, only Sinestro’s lower legs and feet were yet to be squelched down inside. Scarecrow was rather quick to fix this problem however, with a final squeeze into his gullet, finally allowing his hands to be loosely dangled at his sides, as he let out an exceedingly satisfied sigh, and simply allowed his body to take care of the rest.

Quickly shuffling himself into a more comfortable position on the couch in preparation for the drop, Scarecrow calmly gave a few preemptive pats over his stomach as Sinestro on the inside was squeezed deeper and deeper into the villain’s being.

As the squishy, slick walls consistently shoved him further in, Sinestro was suddenly able to pick up the deepset pounding of Scarecrow’s heartbeat resonating from his chest. Then, but a few seconds later, the unmistakable high-pitched gurgles and rumbles emulating from the awaiting chamber below began to grace his ears as well. Now, Sinestro was only able to wait for the lower esophageal sphincter to come into view until he would be able to fully appreciate Scarecrow’s goopy stomach.

Luckily though, he wasn’t forced to wait for very long. Soon after the sphincter became visible, Scarecrow on the outside was able to feel Sinestro’s head getting squelched through its form. The rest of the villainous man’s body promptly following suit, Scarecrow was finally able to feel it all happening in great, articulate detail, as his stomach expanded in a growl.

Gurgling and protruding forwards in order to house the positively enormous meal within, Scarecrow almost instantly let his tongue flop out of his mouth in order to trail a few drops of saliva towards the floor, as he longingly rubbed over his gigantic gut in his hands, the shifting, squishy organ releasing a cacophony of noises from within as Sinestro deep inside, too, began to settle down for the moment.

The red and yellow super villain being churned around against the walls was able to feel each and every little movement of their shifting as they continued to squeeze in and out. The harmless liquids below him sloshed and swirled around as the natural heat in the area began to lull him into tranquility. With the constant groaning and rumbles echoing around in his ears, Sinestro gave a slight smile, as Scarecrow on the outside, gave the giant organ a pat.

Scarecrow let out a sigh as he felt the great villain within his guts settling down. He didn’t exactly know what was gonna happen from here, if they were simply gonna chill out like this, eventually fall asleep, or what, but to the infamous man in the moment, none of those concerns even mattered. What mattered right now was that for the time being, he was able to feel it as his giant, rounded stomach shifted about in his hands, whilst his great buddy Sinestro contentedly hung out all within. And to Scarecrow right then, right there in that instant, that was all that mattered.

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eva-cybele · 1 year

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wolmeric week day 1: first meeting

Aymeric cast an eye over the war table that had been hastily assembled at Porta Praetoria, taking count of their forces and those arrayed against them. The Garleans had suffered heavy losses, but they were still formidable, not to mention entrenched. Routing them would not be easy.

Even so, a strange certainty of their victory filled him. Doma had been liberated with a far smaller army, proving once again that the mere presence of the Warriors of Light was enough to turn the tide of battle, no matter what field they fought on.

The other leaders of the Eorzean Alliance – still strange to think of himself as one of them, even after all these months – gathered and arrayed themselves around the table as well, discussing strategy and the strengths and weaknesses of their own forces. Merlwyb, after recounting her contributions of the Maelstrom, Yellow Jackets, and elite squadrons from various pirate crews and guilds within Limsa Lominsa, waved forward an older highlander man, whose severe face was unfamiliar among the Ala Mhigan Resistance members that Aymeric had met thus far.

“Roric Blackthorne leads a Free Company that fought under the Maelstrom’s banner at Carteneau, and his men have been working with the Resistance for months now. He knows the lay of the land well, and has requested a place with the Immortal Flames at the van.”

Raubahn gave the man a quick look over, and then shrugged. “I hope you’re prepared to give the imperials hell, if you’re asking to be put under my command.”

Roric crossed his arms over his broad chest and lifted his chin. “More than. And if ye doubt the strength of my sword arm, perhaps this’ll convince ye: I’ve bested the Warrior of Light in single combat.”

Aymeric felt his eyebrows crawl towards his hairline, and saw similar skepticism bloom across the faces of everyone present. Lyse, especially, looked nearly ready to jump across the table and defend the honor of her fellow Scions, when a softly-accented feminine voice cut across the group: “Don’t let him spin you tales. Roric hasn’t been able to do more than hold his own against Kaede since she was nineteen. And I doubt he’d be able to do even that, now.”

All the eyes at the table were drawn to the slight figure of a raen woman, her jet-black hair pulled back in a loose braid, with eerily familiar cobalt blue eyes staring out of her faintly-lined face.

Ice abruptly ran down Aymeric’s spine as he realized exactly who he was looking at.

Roric deflated a little, and his bluster turned to a sheepish grin as he turned to look at the woman. “Oh, aye, but ye couldn’t have let me have my glory for a moment longer? ‘Tis a sad day when a man’s wife cuts him down to size in front of his betters.”

The woman shook her head. “My husband may have his glory, but not when it comes at the cost of my daughter’s.”

“Oh, fair enough. M’lords and ladies, may I present my chief tactician, who also does me the great honor of being my wife: Yuriko Kazarishi.”

A deep chuckle boomed against the rocks, and Raubahn reached his arm across the table to grasp Roric’s forearm. “A fine thing to be able to claim, even so. Perhaps if I still had both my arms, I might be able to join you in making it. Or Ser Aymeric, had he not been fighting the other lass with a barely-healed gut wound, eh?”

The Flame General’s use of his name startled Aymeric out of the quiet panic that had settled into the back of his mind at the realization that he was meeting the parents of the woman he loved, and he quickly shook his head. “I do not dare claim that I could have overcome Marzanna on even my best day, though I concede that the Grand Melee was far from it. ‘Tis an honor, however, to meet you both – Ishgard owes your daughter a great debt.”

The diplomatic platitudes rolled off of his tongue without much need for thought, and he watched carefully as both sets of eyes turned to him, Yuriko unreadable, but Roric with barely concealed dislike. “Well. Too bad she wasn’t around to end yer war for ye before we took the field at Carteneau, but ‘tis better late than never.”

Aymeric suppressed a wince at that. Kaede had mentioned that her parents bore no love for Ishgard, due to their absence from the Eorzean Alliance, but that didn’t make the obvious dismissal any easier to swallow.

Merlwyb’s voice was sharp with reprimand as she addressed her subordinate, “We have agreed to let bygones be bygones. Ishgard has returned to the Alliance, and since doing so, has not failed to answer the call of duty.”

“There is no need to defend our honor, Admiral. ‘Tis the truth that in your hour of need, we shut our gates. I only hope that by our presence now, Ishgard can begin to redress the balance.”

Roric looked unimpressed, but Aymeric thought he saw a flicker of respect cross Yuriko’s face at his words, and she gave him a small nod.

Situation defused, chatter across the table soon resumed, and Aymeric was content to listen as talk turned back to battle tactics. Roric had updated intelligence on patrol routes and troop numbers, and Yuriko a few ideas that made it clear where Kaede had gotten her sharp eye for tactics, but no final plans were yet ready to be made.

The meeting swiftly came to a close, and the other leaders departed back to their respective camps, but Aymeric found himself hesitating.

He wasn’t the only one, and a quiet “Ser Aymeric, was it?” pulled his attention back to Yuriko Kazarishi, who was staring at him with a considering eye. When he nodded, she raised an eyebrow. “Your name has appeared quite often in my daughter’s letters. She seems to think quite highly of you.”

Aymeric bowed slightly in her direction. “I assure you, my lady, the feeling is mutual. I am honored to consider Kaede a dear friend, as well as an ally.”

A tiny smile curved the corner of her mouth, and Aymeric was struck again by how strange it was to see Kaede’s eyes in another woman’s face. “A dear friend? Is that truly all?”

For the second time that day, Aymeric froze, startled. They had only had a few short months of stolen moments before Kaede had left for Othard – she hadn’t mentioned telling her parents about him, but it was entirely possible she had, and simply not had the time or the opportunity to mention it. “Ah. No. She is in truth much more, though our relationship is not yet common knowledge.” He paused, and then was unable to hold the question back, “When did she tell you?”

He was frankly dying to know when she had deemed their relationship serious enough to divulge it to her parents, even knowing they would likely not approve.

The laugh lines around Yuriko’s eyes deepened as she covered her mouth with her hand, before composing herself back to calm, but the merriment sparkled in her eyes, undimmed, as she spoke. “She hasn’t, actually. But I know my daughter. And why else would she write incessantly of a man for months, and then suddenly stop mentioning him by name at all, at the same time that she grew too busy to come visit? And then that same man looks as if he’s seen a ghost the moment he meets us? It paints a very clear picture, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric felt his face grow warm from embarrassment at falling so easily into the trap she’d laid for him. Before he could muster a response, a loud snort of amusement from Roric caught his attention, and the man slapped him ungently on the shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, lad. She does that t’everyone. Keen eye for more than just tactics, my lily flower has. Now, Kaede’s a woman grown, and so I won’t involve m’self in her business, but you just remember who taught her to hold a blade, eh?” The man’s sharp grey eyes were not unfriendly, but Aymeric understood immediately the gravity of the threat, even though it was patently absurd to think of anyone fighting Kaede’s battles for her – as well as the ridiculous notion that he would ever intentionally do something to warrant that response.

Instead of laughing, however, he placed his hand over his heart and answered with utter sincerity. “I won’t give you a reason to ever need remind me of that fact, ser. That, I can promise you.”

Sighing, Yuriko planted her hands on her hips and leveled a look of disapproval at her husband. “That’s quite enough, Roric. Especially after that little comment at the table. You’re lucky the Admiral didn’t throw you out then and there for your impertinence.” She shook her head, and then tucked her hand into the crook of Roric’s arm, drawing him away. “Forgive us for taking up your time, Ser Aymeric. I’m sure you have preparations to see to, just as we do. I only ask that if you do see my daughter, perhaps you might send her our way before she’s sent out on some mission to slay a god or liberate a country or whatever else it is the Alliance has her doing these days.”

Sheepishly, Aymeric nodded. “I will see that she knows you are expecting her, my lady. And I shall do my utmost to refrain from monopolizing all of her time.”

Apparently satisfied, Yuriko led her husband away towards the Maelstrom’s camp, and Aymeric felt his shoulders relax in exhaustion. Fury have mercy, that was not how he’d imagined that meeting going, and yet… it could have been worse. Disapproval of his city’s politics aside, they seemed decidedly neutral on him as a person, which was certainly an improvement over the reactions he’d received from most of the parents of women he’d courted in the past.

Settling on cautious optimism, Aymeric forcibly turned his thoughts away from his personal life and back towards the matter at hand. A free Ala Mhigo might go a long way toward improving their opinions of him, after all.

#wolmeric #ffxiv writing #eva writes #daughters of dusk and dawn #sons of ice and fury #no one said it had to be the first time aymeric and kaede met after all #wolmeric week

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crystalelemental · 2 years

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Common Grid War Act 14, and I’ve rebalanced the ladder once again. There are some fairly major changes that I think better reflect my stance on some of this.

To go over structure:

S: Units that go far above and beyond, to being near-staples in various game modes.

A: Highly valuable utility, or highly self-sufficient offense.

B: Good utility that’s a bit more stage-specific, or offense that can be great but definitely needs buffing support to get there.

C: More niche utility, or offense that tends to be lacking.

D: Generally poor performance, in which critical flaws impede what could be otherwise interesting niches.

F: Borderline unusable.

I’ll be going over every tier, though with some (intended) brevity.

S-Tier The usual top 4 remain, but Siebold has officially been welcomed into the fold. I am a massive slut for Sure Crit sync nukers now, and Siebold has been part of that. The only thing holding him back prior was general lack of confidence, but having tested him...Siebold is legitimately great. And EX actually feels like it accomplishes some great stuff. I feel like if Candice makes it, he makes it.

A-Tier By far the most change. Kahili has ascended. Endure is so good. Applying it twice? Divine. Again, Sure Crit sync nukes are beautiful, but having defense drops too on a one-gauge spam? Kahili is wildly flexible, and I kinda love her. She’s so good that you don’t even strictly need crit support, and thus has three-turn setup. The only reason she’s not S is because lack of EX can severely hurt in modern CS. Blaine’s grid isn’t fantastic, but it’s sufficient, and his sun setting + trap already set him apart. The fact his trainer move is two use to capped attack means he’s honestly easy on support needs as well, which definitely feels A-tier. Marley’s been great support, no real changes. Cheryl’s next because her utility is unbelievably good for Gauntlet, even if CS is somewhat hit and miss. Whitney is beautiful utility with a decent sync nuke, and a lot of flexibility in her grid. Agatha is the best F2P sleep user in the game, able to get perfect sleep chance, MGR9, capped speed, and even has backup skills in paralysis and an 80% chance to debuff special defense. Unfortunately this means it’s hard to decide what to do with her in a moment, sleep is inconsistent and the entire basis of her sync damage, and she loses paralysis if she mega evolves. So definite limitations despite how much she can accomplish. Wikstrom is insanely good, being able to cap all offensive needs in two moves, though needing to attack first. Wikstrom also suffers a bit from massive frailty in attack mode. If he didn’t drop so easily, he’d be way higher. As for Noland, he’s similar to Bruno in that he just takes forever to get there, but also lacks DPS. He’s definitely doing well, and is notably self-sufficient, but does under-perform compared to Bugsy for damage.

B-Tier Ramos is a sleep bot, but that wins games sometimes. Brawly’s bulky and has Potion and defense drops, as well as a few interesting resistances. Janine has solid poison sync damage, guaranteed poison chance, and the coveted Venom Drench for debuffing. Janine has a lot of good utility tools now. Will has fantastic DPS and sync damage, but is super reliant on buffing. At least he has a great flinch rate and confuse. Gardenia, as much as I love her, struggles. Needs special attack buffing, needs sun, very reliant despite her damage. Bugsy is super reliant on support, but has really good sync damage, and at least passable DPS for a side in CS. Molayne’s damage hasn’t felt great, but he’s got some nice tools, including good speed and flinch rate, so that counts for something. Crasher Wake should be higher due to self-sufficiency, but his damage is supremely disappointing due to the hard requirement for foe to be flinching for his innate sync multiplier. It blows, so he’s here. Liza is...good. She can buff either offensive stat and special defense, but once her buffing is over, she’s kinda dead weight. Worse, she’s dead weight that doesn’t even get Endure like Roxanne, so she’s a lot harder to justify. Sophocles has great tools, but unfortunately is terrible damage. Yes, even his sync, I have a metric ton of trouble getting him to do real damage to Thundurus, who he’s good against. Kid struggles. Lucy’s got good utility, but I think her damage is pretty limited for someone with such high support demands. And Brycen! I like him more than I let on, I think Haze is super underrated. And that 20% freeze chance can come in clutch. I know he’s not objectively good, but I think he’s undersold.

C-Tier I am surprisingly fond of Marlon’s grid, I think they did some interesting stuff that I’m excited to test out. More later. Marshall’s is...objectively better than I give credit for. Rock Smash getting guaranteed defense drops and a 30% staggering rate at the same time is downright unit, so we’ll see if it amounts to much. He’s also got comparable Bruno stats, but none of the self-sufficiency and terrible bulk. But I’m optimistic. Roxie...she’s probably better than I give credit for. But her self-buffing is too scattered, her multipliers based on a very slow-ramping skill she has only on grid, and I’m sorry she just hasn’t impressed. Very support reliant for not enough return. Tate has potentially good damage and a flinch rate, but is too scattered to have anything higher than this. Drake and Cheren. Drake has tools, but his grid is so bad he gets like two of them and that’s it. It’s bad, man. It’s real bad. Cheren I think has a better optimized grid, but less to accomplish. I will say, of the two, I do prefer Cheren. Full Heal can now restore some HP. That’s far more than Drake can say. Though both are slow supports whose only gauge control is limited MP to fully restore all gauges, but at least they get Team Sharp Entry. Drake’s a bit higher for buffing both defenses, while Cheren can’t. Surge and Mina bring up the bottom. They’re good debuffers of a single stat, but are single-target, lack good self-sufficiency, and aren’t the best at damage either. I do rate Surge higher for having a decent paralysis chance and evasion on top of his debuff, though.

D-Tier Valerie has one point of legitimately great utility, as the tank for SS Wally. Otherwise, she is a mess. Clay has some decent tools, but is super support reliant and Not Very Good despite it. Hapu, somehow, is worse. SS Brock, Grant, and Thorton are all the same thing: slow, but has a good flinch rate. SS Brock and Grant can potentially deal damage, especially with SS Diantha coming up. But Thorton is dead in the water. Similarly borked is Wulfric, who has at least risen to D-tier for saving one of my recent Gauntlet matches. You know, after like 30 resets, but eventually those freeze and flinch chances did land.

F-Tier Norman is the last winner. Poor damage. DPS will actively kill him regardless of grid. Sync multipliers are bad. No self-sufficiency. All he has is a paralysis rate, that isn’t even guaranteed. I feel comfortable saying he’s the worst unit in the game.

#pokemon masters #common grid war #common grid war act 14

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pennzance · 1 year

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Ghostbusters: Port Huron (Episode 12)

Episode 12: The Basement

September 10th, 1998

Field Operation report by Bryan

Today has been enlightening.

I should start at the beginning. We found a basement today. And by ‘we’ I mean Hullford, and by ‘found’ I mean fell into. This was an unforeseen wrinkle in the sweep we were making toward the main compound today because, as far as the county had made us aware, none of the structures on the Eloise campus had basements.

Of course, neither did the Edison Inn. Undeclared sublevels might as well be an occupational hazard of Ghostbusting.

Hullford is one of my contemporaries from the Detroit branch. He and a woman named Lydia from Flint have been my companions during working hours at the behest of the General, which is an entirely different state of affairs that most of my team has an issue with, but I’ve been enjoying. Hullford is an excellent Ghostbuster and able to maintain an intelligent conversation, already putting him head and shoulders above 50% of my usual team. Lydia is quiet, but effective at the job, and their various skills have allowed me more time to focus on the history and environment of our current job than on the more immediate concerns of individual spook busting.

This particular basement looks to have been some sort of overflow ward. Hullford was fortunate enough to land on a bed frame to cushion his fall, and we repurposed it as a makeshift ladder to get myself and Lydia down there. The hallways were labyrinthine and wound under the ruins of the other structures, uniting the campus of Eloise underground into a single floorplan. The fact that this information had not been available on the blueprints provided to us by the county was concerning.

I attempted to map out our progress to get some sense of what building we may be under as we explored. The closer we got to the main complex, the front door of Eloise that had thus far resisted all attempts to get inside with instruments to measure the spiritual turbulence within, the more useless the PKE Meters became. They are only able to measure up to a certain amount of PKE activity, and we were far beyond that.

We decided to leave and regroup with the others, resolving to come back to the basement in more force. The air down there was thick with danger, a palpable feeling of dread and a cold tinge of terror that colored our every step and breath. We rendezvoused with the General and cleared our traps into the mobile containment grid, linking up with Amber’s team and going back down into the basement, now 6 Ghostbusters strong.

We also brought portable flood lights and flashlights. It was a battle to keep them working, but we pressed on. We met token resistance in the form of vapors and mists, with the occasional phantasmal nurse or orderly who met an undoubtably gruesome end at the hands of the criminally insane Eloise became infamous for containing. We vaporized what we could and trapped what we couldn’t.

We managed to find our way to, by my reckoning, a part of the basement beneath the main complex. We started hunting for a way up and discovered an elevator shaft. It was long out of service and something tried to drop the elevator car on our heads when we tried to ascend, the wreckage blocking further attempts to climb the shaft without some heavier tools. Amber and I kept looking for a stairway, but it was Hullford who stumbled onto the secret door.

Yes, secret door. Another one. The mechanism for concealing and triggering it was remarkably familiar to me. Very similar to the one we’d discovered in the Edison Inn. I’ll have to look into this possible link later, it may just be down to construction dates or may be some common methodology for creating a secretive entrance.

Beyond the door, we found what I am going to refer to as the Chamber. This was very clearly not a room with a medical purpose. There was a chair in the center of the room, adorned with straps used for certainly unsavory purposes, and areas of the floor were covered in a substance we determined to be wax. Dark staining on the chair was consistent with very old, dried blood. At first blush, this was a room used for ritual sacrifice.

Death cults are not unheard of. I won’t say I am shocked, because Eloise had a dark reputation even before it was shuttered, but to have such a plain and obvious answer to ‘why is this place so haunted’ presented to us was almost a disappointment. On top of the systemic, institutionalized brutality and malpractice, there was a cult sacrificing people no one seemed to care about for some inscrutable end. Of course this place is haunted. How could it not be?

The Chamber contained little else in the way of immediate clues, but its very existence made the more thorough exploration of this main complex much more urgent. Someone who worked here must have left behind some sign or clue as to the purpose of this Chamber, and I intend to find it. I hate an unsolved mystery.

Oh, I skipped a relevant detail as well. When we first entered the Chamber, a familiar entity attempted to stop us. Another of the horse-with-bat-wing creatures. 6 Proton Packs in unison dispatched the beast in quick fashion, and we were able to trap it in record time, but the presence of another of these entities here of all places only serves to reinforce a growing fear I have that the old sins of Eloise and the strange things we’ve discovered in Port Huron may have more than a passing link.

We left our path marked and retreated for now. In the morning, we intend to return in force with some capable tools for clearing the elevator shaft and hopefully focus our efforts on the obvious source of Eloise’s disturbances. We made a great amount of progress today in rendering the property if not unhaunted, at least more manageable.

We’ve lost 3 Ghostbusters to hospitalization due to injuries so far. Hullford’s leg was broken in the battle with the creature in the Chamber. A man named Rex got four ribs broken by an entity I didn’t see but was described to me as “If a Clockwork Orange was a Sam Raimi film” by Jeremy, which conjures just… a HOST of mental images that shall haunt my REM cycle tonight. By far the worst though was another of the Flint crew who was hit by friendly fire and is currently comatose with third degree burns. Last I heard, there was no brain activity.

The General refuses to let Eloise beat us, but I do not believe this job is worth dying for. Especially if there is something worse on the horizon, as I’m starting to fear.

#pennzance writes #ghostbusters #ghostbusters port huron

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star-whores-a-new-hoe · 3 years

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Relax // Din Djarin X F!Reader Smut

summery: When reader has a bad headache, Din decides to ‘help’ her out, *nudge, nudge, wink wink*

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Fem!reader, Smut, established relationship, oral (fem receiving) reader has a headache, first fic in a LONG while so i’m rusty, barley edited, bad typos and grammar.

A/N: So I tend to get very frequent, very bad headaches and sometimes...I do some unorthodox things to relif them, which is how this fic idea was born! Also, i’m sorry about the slight hiatus, I feel a little rusty so pls be kind and enjoy!

With a groan from the bottom of your soul, you flopped down onto the pillow pile masquerading as a bed, your exhausted body sinking into the sea of cushions.

The Razor Crest flew silently through the endless, inky, black of space, on its way to whatever adventure awaited. The only sound inside the vessel was the soft humming of machinery, and the gentle coos of the child sleeping In His crib across the room.

Rubbing your eyes, you let out a sigh. Your head was absolutely throbbing, a dull ache building right behind your temples. It had been like this all afternoon, the discomfort continuing to grow no matter what you did.

You had thus far been able to push through it and complete various tasks around the ship, but it was finally getting the better of you.

It was then you heard the unmistakable ‘clang’ of heavy Metal footsteps descending the ladder, each one reverberating through your aching head. Lazily, you watched as Din walked over to Grogu’s crib. The big mass of metal peered over the side of the cot to make sure the child was asleep before pushing the button to close it. When he was positive the child was definitely fast asleep, he turned his gaze to you.

“Hey.” You said groggily. Din walked towards where you laid and leaned against the side of the opening to the bed, his large frame blocking out most of the artificial light flooding the ship.

“Hey.” His modulated voice echoed back. There was a point not too long ago when his dark, ‘T’ shaped helmet staring down at you would have made a shiver of fear run down your spine. But, after all this time, traveling with him, getting to know him, loving him, the sight made your heart blossom with warmth akin to nothing you had ever known. “Everything ok?”

You rolled over on your side, burying your face in the nearest pillow. “‘M, head hurts.” You whined, cheek squished against the plush material. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Din slowly removed his gloves, his gaze all the while trained on you.

“Have you been staying hydrated?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Yes ‘mom’, and I’ve eaten, as well.”

Din hummed in acknowledgement. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mesh’la?” his warm hand had found its way to your leg where it was busy stroking smoothing circles up and down your calf.

“No, I don't-” You start, trailing off as the thought occurs to you.

“What is it?” Din asks, knowing from the tell-tale way you froze up that something was on your mind.

“It’s nothing, I'll just try to get some sleep.”

“Pretty girl,” He sighs. “If there is something that will make you feel better, all you have to do is name it.”

Laying there, Din’s warm heavy hand resting on your leg, you mull over his proposition, an intense battle between need and embarrassment raging inside you.

“Sometimes,” You start tentatively. “When my head hurts, I… If I make myself…” you glimpse up at his helmet, gaze trained on you expectantly. “If I make myself come, the headache goes away.” Your blurt out. Din pauses for a moment, perched on the edge of the bed as still as a beskar statue, his head tilted slightly to the side, as if figuring out what to make of you.

“Yeah?” He finally said, a teasing edge to his voice. “Is that all? Does my sweet girl need me to help her feel better?”

“Maybe.” You say with a bashful smile.

You watch, excitement welling up in your chest as Din stands up, his hand going for the light switch. Just like that, everything was thrown into darkness. You could hear the soft ‘hiss’ of his helmet being removed before he placed it on the floor.

Breath growing heavy with anticipation and eyes searching in vain through the darkness, you felt Din’s body press into yours, his broad chest smushed against you. One large hand placed itself on your hip, fingertips barley sliding beneath your top to greedily stroke along the bare sliver of skin. Ever so softly, you felt his lips press against yours and you smiled into his kiss, momentarily forgetting about the throbbing in your head.

Tender, slow kisses soon turned lustful as he licked across the seam of your lips, asking for entrance which you happily granted. His tongue danced against yours and you moaned into his mouth, quickly turning to putty in his hands.

“Din,” You groaned breathlessly when he pulled away.

“I’ve got you sweet girl.” He practically purred as he placed sloppy kisses along your jaw, trailing down your neck. He moved further down your body, pausing only to hook his fingers in the waistband of your pants, slowly dragging them down along with your underwear.

The second your pants were discarded, your legs were spread wide, eagerly revealing your dripping center to him.

“Is this all for me baby? I’ve barely even touched you.”

“No teasing!” You whined playfully, threading your fingers through Din’s hair in a vain attempt to pull him closer.

“Alright,” you didn't need to see his face to hear the smirk in his tone. A few gentle kisses and nips on the inside of your thighs had you melting under his fingertips, the remnants of your headache faded into a dull pain, chased away by his touches.

He worked his way downwards, making his way towards your dripping center. Your breath hitched at the first brush of his lips against your clit, and you could have sworn to the maker that you felt him smile against your cunt. The rough pads of his fingers came up to part your soaking folds, and you were unable to control the strangled moan that escaped your mouth as he began licking broad stripes over you.

Your head fell back against the pillow as Din traced a finger around your entrance, just barely pushing in before removing it again, over and over, testing your patience to your limits. When you felt ready to yell at him, he finally pushed two of his thick fingers inside you, painstakingly slow. Your breath grew uneven, it was always mind boggling how full just two of his fingers could make you feel, how he could always make your toes curl as if it were nothing, always reaching that perfect spot inside you you could never quite get.

“Din,” You sighed, letting one of your hands leave his hair to softly cup his cheek.

“Yeah? Does it feel good, sweet girl?” he said, continuing to pump his fingers into you.

You nodded, lip between your teeth. “So good, k-keep going.”

“Anything for you, Mesh’la,” He murmured before wrapping his mouth around your clit, and sucking harshly. The reaction was immediate. Your body arched up into his touch, his hands, which rested on your waist, pulled you forward as your legs squeezed his head.

A tight, coil of pleasure wound up inside you, building up and up, ready to spill over at the slightest touch. One particularly well aimed thrust of his fingers was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge of bliss.

You did your best to stifle your cries but it was to no avail. A white, hot, light of pleasure coursed through you, chasing away any ounce of pain or discomfort that remained in your body. Your figure went limp as Din left a last few loving kisses on your thighs.

“There’s my girl,” He said as you came back to your senses, the heavy rise and fall of your chest becoming even once more. “How are you feeling?”

You allowed a small smile to spread across your face. “Perfect.” You sighed when you caught your breath. “I feel absolutely perfect.”

Din sat up, his hands dragging down the expanse of your bare legs. “And your head?”

“So much better, I think making me come might be a cure all.”

“Good.” He chuckled.

You outstretched your hands, making a pathetic grabby motion until he crawled up the bed to lay with you. Ignoring the cold Beskar armor, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell that was purely him and relishing in the feeling of his strong arms anchoring you to his chest.

“Thank you Din,” You said sleepily.

“Of course beautiful, anything to help you relax.”

Tagging: @comicshoplife @literal-fand0m-trash @managerie79 @romanxffbarnes @thisistheway @dexthtoyounglings @mandosmimi @return-of-the-simp @princessxkenobi @commander-cado @keeper-of-the-sarlacc-pit @book-hoardingdragon

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adelindschade · 2 years

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A Thousand Strikes (A Thousand Cuts, part 3)

(Because I can’t commit to a small series and need to be extra)

Or the one Cassian gets slightly out of hand because the mating bond is too powerful to resist.

Enter Balthazar.

“I’ll let him know he can approach but not to converse,” Emerie advised.

Nesta shook anxiously but reluctantly nodded.

“He’ll be on his best behavior,” Emerie assured, gaining distance. “Burn him with your magic if he’s not,” she attempted to lighten the atmosphere with humor.

Nesta bit back her lip, quietly nodding but her stomach churned. She dreaded this. Her ashen knuckles hurt from gripping the fallen tree of which she sat upon. Bark bit into her fingertips, and she hastily pulled the hood over her head to conceal her face, not sure how to address him.

This would be the first time in a month since she seen him in person. She managed to avoid him thus far. She couldn’t settle her stomach as anxiety ravaged her. She was growing jittery as the minutes dragged on. Emerie couldn’t fly – she had to walk the entire duration from the incline they sought shelter on to the pyre.

She’d rather have Emerie with her rather than be alone with Cassian. She could not stand his hovering, or berating, or whatever callous words he had to share about the stress she inflicted on her sisters. Tears built up before she could compel herself to hide her shame.

Shame. Shame and regret. Failure and disappointment. She felt it all it once like a tidal wave. She couldn’t get up – she tried – and she hissed at the resistance her leg gave. She wouldn’t be able to hide soon enough. He’d scent her and hunt her down. She was just a sitting duck, at his mercy, and there was nothing she could do to shut him out. So, she waited, and held her breath.

A whoosh of air resounded and blew back her hood before she could grapple to adjust it back over her hair. She froze deathly still, eyes glues to the ground, and refusing to lift her head. So, he flew over, and beat Emerie’s ascent. He couldn’t wait. She shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Nesta,” he said so softly, it might as well have been a breath.

She couldn’t bring herself to answer him, let alone look him in the way. A tear spilled down her cheek, betraying her. She saw a shadow in her peripheral – a hand – but he redacted it just a swiftly, deciding against it.

“You look well.”

She subconsciously rubbed her wrists as he spoke.

“Are you well?” He asked, observing her astutely. “Do you feel better? You don’t have those thoughts or urges anymore? You’ve been keeping busy? Have you been enjoying some of the sweets I’ve been sending? You’re a big fan of chocolate. I can get something else if you’re tired of that.”

He was filling the void with question after question, and she had no reply to give.

She remembered some of the clothes Cassian sent. It was silly considering the line of work Emerie was in, and how Nesta had become familiar with the trade herself. Gowns varying from ornate to practical. She remembered the books he gathered in bulk. There were others alongside the letters: gift certificates – only applicable to bookstores in Velaris, which conjured an eye roll. Elain and Feyre had sent that.

But the bakery treats were something Emerie and she shared fondly in the later hours, after closing shop, and just before they’d decide it was time to retire for the night. It was thoughtful for someone who had a disdain for sugar.

Is this not enough to sway you to open the door next them he knocks? Emerie teased, sporting a wide grin and chocolate coated teeth. Maybe he’ll bring a bigger cake.

Manners, Nesta laughed to the best of her ability. Humor was her best deflection to ignore the inevitable debate whether or not she’d be brave enough to confront what was between them – and how she’d be the villain to end it.

“You… don’t have to say anything back. I promise I will leave,” he choked towards the end. “I just needed to see you, to see if you’re okay. I haven’t seen you in what feels like an eternity and not knowing how you’re doing is killing me. Shit – I didn’t mean to use that word – forget it. I’m making this about myself when you’re the one who… I can’t even begin to imagine… I’m mucking this up already.”

He couldn’t even say it aloud. She couldn’t show her wrists and he couldn’t put into words what she had inflicted upon herself. He was walking on eggshells around her, and it made Nesta feel even worse, as if she were some sort of fragile doll that needed careful handling. It was all a ruse. One day, he expects the world from her, and the next, he assumes she can’t manage anything at all.

It all felt forced and ingenuine. There had to be an endgame behind the new, strange tactic. Kindness wasn’t something she expected from any of them, besides Azriel, of course. Was she going to be relocated again? Poked and prodded and observed like a prisoner of war? Is that why they were switching strategies and being unusually sweet with her? She liked it better when they abandoned her at Emerie’s, letting her be without a determined timeline for her to abide by.

It was simpler. The quiet, routine existence she could have gotten accustomed to. She didn’t have to stress about who knocked on the door, not unless it was delivery day, and she scurried to hide before Emerie cracked the door open for Cassian to extend his latest truce. She appreciated that he didn’t barge in or drag her out – not like Rhys would’ve enlisted.

“Thing is, I’m going crazy, but I’m trying my best to give you what you want,” he pleaded, weaving his fingers in his hair. “You haven’t been responding to any of us – and that’s okay! We get that you don’t trust us or are in a place to talk about what happened. That’s alright. We’ll wait that out. We’re just worried, okay? We just want what’s best for you and we fucked it all up.” he rambled on.

Cassian paced, ginormous in the small clearing Emerie and Nesta made from themselves. Branches rattled when his huge wings brushed near them. A curse spilled from his lips, and she surmised he might have struck a sensitive part of his wings.

“Just go,” she whispered, fatigued.

“Nesta,” he urged.

“No. Everyone hates me. You said it.” she repeated his damning words. Her lips betrayed her, quivering. Her hands sputtered to her side, unsure of what to do, and opted to fist her outer fabric with a deathly grip. “This – this act has to stop. I’m not – I’m not a part of this. Leave me alone,” she begged, trembling.

“I will,” Cassian said, struggling to keep calm. “If that’s what you want. Nesta, the things I said earlier-”

“That’s what you want!” she retorted, fumbling. “It works out best for you. Just – please, stop. Stop with the gifts, and the goodies, and everything else. All that needs to go away.” Her tongue tasted salt and her throat closed in on itself as another sob worked its way up. She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes, sniffling.

“That’s not true.” He adamantly denied, audibly troubled. “Your sisters love you!”

“Why should they? Why should anyone? Why do you? You said it yourself! I’m too difficult! I burden everyone around me!” she shrilled, cracking in between the last few syllables. She doubled over, heaving into her lap. The mate bond plagued her. She couldn’t stand the idea of him being tethered to her – and that was the sole reason he tried so hard to stay in her life. She was an idea, this blessing, an object for him to feel complete. A mating bond was a possession – and she had been captive too many times to allow herself to be delegated as nothing more than a prize again. “Just – let it go, please. Leave me alone,” she begged, shaking tremendously.

“I’m not giving you up! Those things – I said them to hurt you – and that was unfair of me! None of it was true! I should have never even… Nes, you know better, deep down, none of that is true. I just needed to get something from you – a reaction! I went too far! That’s my fault, not yours! Nes, please! Sweetheart, you have to believe me!”

If she was hysterical, he was frightened. He lost all his composure, bordering on pleading, and made a step closer to her.

Nesta shook her head and stayed firm in her resolve to refuse meeting eyes. She wouldn’t allow him to see her this frail and give him the validation he needed to assume she couldn’t take care of herself, or for him to take on the role of hero and supersede her choice.

Another gust of wind swarmed them.

“What’s up, Witch Lady?”

Balthazar had taken the defensive approach, standing between them. Though his words were humorous, downplaying the situation, his expression was anything but. It was valiant how a novice soldier who narrowly escape the Blood Rite held a bravado against the General of the Night Court’s army.

“Bal, no! You need to go!” Nesta urged, struggling to come to a stand as she reach out to pull him back. She winced as her muscles ached and readjusted. “Just – go – okay? It’s nothing. He’s… leaving. Right, Cassian?” she addressed, likely puffy and red in the face.

“Who’s this?” Cassian demanded gruffly, narrowed in on her friend. He had no intention to leave.

“Balthazar is a friend,” she insisted, stepping slowly – and cautiously with each stride, mindful of the brace – between them. She would be a shield, tiny in comparison between the two oversized bats. “He’s a good friend. Please, Cassian! Don’t, don’t do it,” she croaked.

Cassian was tense, glaring at Balthazar with the promise of pain. She held her arms out, though it wouldn’t do much.

“That isn’t a good idea,” Azriel intervened, swift and quiet in his approach. Though his voice was steady, both could register from the rage in Cassian’s eyes that Azriel had every right to be uneasy and made a show of not nearing Nesta. Even he had his reservations. “You should step aside.”

“He’ll kill him!” Nesta shrilled, panicked.

“Only because you’re close to him. If you step away, he’ll calm down. Trust me,” Azriel prompted, waving her forward.

“Why – because of the stupid mating bond? Does he have to get riled up over every male who gets too close? Am I just another object he thinks he’s entitled to?” Nesta rapped, gathering closer to Balthazar. Cassian growled. The forest shuddered in its wake.

The latter Illyrian jolted and pushed her away gently, stepping back as far as the clearing would allow it.

“That’s your mate?” Balthazar bellowed, astonished, and equally frightened. He held his hands up in surrender. His bravado had expired. He locked eyes with Cassian, petrified. “I’m walking back. See? No harm done. I didn’t know. I honestly had no clue. My sincerest apologies, General.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Nesta demanded, growing angry all of sudden. She turned to the Illyrian Bats accusingly, livid, and silver sparking in her eyes. “Why do you all act like this over mates?”

“You know about us? You knew we were mates?” Cassian asked, aghast. She had surprised him. He had no clue she knew. She was fuming he had neglected to tell her.

“You told Az. Azriel told Emerie. Em told me,” she barked back, bitter at being the last to know. She glared at him, though she doubted she put much fear in him when she looked like a mess. Unbeknownst to her, Azriel and Cassian spied something else in her features, and precautious stepped back to give her space.

“It wasn’t my place to tell you,” Azriel swallowed.

“But you told Em,” she accused harshly, glowering. “I thought we were friends, Az.”

“We are,” the spymaster assured, genuinely remorseful. “I left Cassian to approach the matter when the time came. That was a conversation meant for you two. He said he’d tell you. I trusted him to do just that-”

“When the time was right,” Cassian amended, panic-stricken. She had beat him to the punch. “Nes, I was going to say something.”

The crunch of leaves climbed up the muddy hillside and Emerie emerged with a quickness, glaring at Azriel in passing as she struggled up the hill – abandoned at the bottom of the base when he urgently flew up to the top.

“What’s happening here?” Emerie snarled, quickly coming to Nesta’s aid.

“Take me home,” Nesta commanded, swinging an arm over her friend’s shoulder for balance. “I’ve had enough. Bal! It’s time to go!”

“No way, Witch Lady!”

“Balthazar!” both females resounded, furious.

“The General!” their friend gestured broadly to the fuming male, who’s fists were clenched and stance ready for the offensive. No one could get through to him.

“He won’t hurt you,” Nesta beckoned her friend. “No, he won’t,” she turned to Cassian in matching fury.

“He’s not in the right frame of mind,” Azriel intervened, doubting his friend’s capacity for discipline. “Nesta, now is not the time to chance it. Cassian can’t override his instincts just like that.”

“Yes, he will,” Nesta clenched her teeth as she hissed out each syllable. Her hand glowed, encased in cold, smoke-like fire. It lit up the space, presenting a clear path down the mountainside where they had journeyed up to perch.

“Nesta,” Azriel attempted to persuade her otherwise.

“You can’t recklessly use your powers! You haven’t gotten a control over them!” Cassian spurred before Azriel could de-escalate. “You could get yourself hurt – or someone else!”

“Control? You want to talk about control?” she repeated hotly, inhaling sharply through the nose. “You’re worried I might hurt someone – take a gander at who. Don’t you dare go after my friends, Cassian. I don’t care if it’s a natural instinct as a mate, I will not tolerate for it.”

“Step back, everyone,” Azriel circumvented, wedging himself in between. “Let’s pause.”

“That’s enough, Cassian,” Rhys jumped into action – likely reading into his brothers’ minds. Azriel breathed a heavy sigh of relief as his High Lord centered himself between the feuding parties. “Walk it off. Let’s return to base. Everyone needs to take a breather and clear their heads. It’s too stuffy up here and we’re getting carried away with emotions. Let’s go our separate ways, and we can figure it out later. That is an order, Cassian! Stand down!”

Nesta balked when Cassian resisted the order, bypassing whatever authority Rhys prided himself on.

“General! Stand down!” Rhys repeated, startled he had to repeat himself. Cassian stepped forward and it took both Azriel and Rhys to block him.

“I told you I’m done taking orders from you when it comes to my mate,” Cassian redirected onto Rhys, shouting at this point. “I told you to stay away from her!”

An altercation ensued so quick, Nesta didn’t have chance to jump. Emerie pulled her to the side, both damp with mud and various debris stuck to their outer coats, while Balthazar rose to the sky in a burst of wind to avoid being collateral damage. Emerie rolled atop of her, tattered wings curling around them both as the sound of trees breaking, fists landing, and grunts disturbed the once tranquil space.

Azriel lifted Emerie first, and then aided Nesta who – regardless of his betrayal – took his hand willingly. Without words exchanged, he winnowed both females to safety.

#Rhys generally tries to do something good in this one #but Azriel will always be the best bat #and Cassian the most tempermental #the mating bond is a. bitch #nessian #nessian fanfic

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art-blogge · 3 years

Text

Track A-5

"No, Jirachi is not an Ultra Beast. It comes from space, not Ultra Space. There is a difference."

Emmet gave up understanding the difference between space and Ultra Space at least half an hour ago. Space was space. What was next? Mega space? Great space? Premiere space? Luxury space? Oh, he liked the sound of that one!

Cameron lightly nudged his boss, trying to make him focus. He was also having some trouble absorbing all of the new information they were being given, but at least Cameron was trying. Someone in this room had to be listening to all of this. Cameron knew it must be relevant to the current case, and did his best.

Cloud raised his hand for the fourth time in the last ten minutes.

"Hoopa?"

"Hoopa cannot travel through time," responded one of the international police agents, "If he were only spatially relocated, then Hoopa could have been a possibility." These poor officers were instructed to explain the circumstances to the Gear Station agents, so that they'd understand what possibly happened to their unfortunate boss.

Only Jackie realized it would be smart to take notes, and for the exact wrong reason- The best scary stories are the ones that are accurate and thus feasible! But at least someone was writing this down.

Cloud continued suggesting various legendary and mythical Pokemon, and continued being shot down. Very few of them are able to interact with Ultra Space, and even less actively do so. But he was getting info about legendaries, so he still won in the end. Even if he was still starving, he'd definitely won this interaction.

"So far we got Celebi and Hoopa being jerks together, the Sinnoh dragons, a real big Girafarig, the Unown, and now space beasts?" Jackie asked, checking over his notes.

"Ultra Beasts," an officer yet again corrected. "Pokemon from space like Deoxys are incapable of such a feat. Unown are not legendary, but are still unlikely. They very rarely leave their own dimensions." After a moment of thinking, they added "Most Ultra Beasts are also not capable of causing this by themselves. We are still working with the Aether Foundation to decide if Necrozma or Cosmog are or aren't Ultra Beasts."

Yuuuuuuuuuup. Emmet was still verrrrrrrrrry lost.

The Depot Agents weren't fairing well with the sudden influx of unknown information, either. Ramses and Josh were both horrified by it all, and had mutually decided that clinging to Furze was a valid idea. Isadore had given up in the first ten minutes and left to take a nap. Hank was still trying to process the idea that Pokemon could come from space. Only Jackie and Cloud survived the infodumping.

"New question!" Jackie shouted, raising his hand, "Do we have any idea where or when Ingo could've ended up?"

Finally someone asked it.

"Not yet," replied an officer, "But it's entirely possible that he's already been ki-"

"SO ANYWAY!" Furze suddenly interrupted, throwing his hand up, "There were no Ultra Wormhole traces in the Gear Station, right?"

Emmet's smile faltered. What was the officer going to say? Furze never interrupted people unless it was an emergency, he knew that. So was something wrong? Already been what? The gears in his head weren't turning as fast as he'd like them to be.

He was so deep in thought that he missed the following explanation. Emmet would need to be told later about the lack of Ultra Wormhole traces anywhere in the city, and how odd the situation was as a whole. Emmet only tuned back in because he felt someone staring at him, that being Cameron doing a concern. Emmet gave him a blank smile in response, not sure what Cameron was worried about. What'd he miss? Damn. Maybe he should have taken notes like Jackie. Oh, but then they'd be covered in little Joltiks and Archens instead of actual notes. Speaking of Joltik, he could feel a few of them traversing the inside of his coat sleeves. He had to resist the urge to immediately pull them out and place them on the Agents, this definitely not being the time nor place for that.

"I've got something important to add," said an officer, their voice piercing straight through the off-track thoughts Emmet was having. Emmet immediately looked up at the officers expectantly, maybe staring a little too hard.

"Most missing persons cases of this caliber get solved, so please do not fret. We're on it, and we already have ideas of where to start."

The Subway Boss and all of his Agents exchanged looks before Emmet's smile returned in full force. What a relief! They were going to find Ingo! How verrrrrrrrrrry exciting! So exciting that he'd started bouncing and stimming with an excessive amount of force. A spare Joltik got flung out of his sleeve at Mach 4.

Cloud shifted forward to lean around Furze so he could look at Emmet. "Well, you know! Unlike what Jackie likes to think, Time always gets fixed in the end!"

#emmet #subway bosses #submas #depot agent ocs #writing tag #BROTHER LOOK HOW HARD I CAN STIM! is responsible for me finishing this one off #Track System #pl:a spoilers

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damistrolls · 2 years

Photo

hiiiiii i’ve been fixing up aom’s home planet so i can have all his info ready when i finally re-release him, and i thought id share all the stuff i have so far

pls click the images so the quality isnt ass

lore dump below the cut (may edit later)

Xuma (Planet)

Pretty dark planet, it’s ‘sun’ doesn’t generate a lot of light or heat

Not icy/snowy, but pretty cold

Lots of water. Rains a lot

Lots of forests, mountains, grassy plains, caves. No big cities, only small settlements

Animals much like earth’s, but the majority are better suited for the night/the dark

Xuma (People)

Three main variations of Xuma: forest, plain, and cave

Forest Xuma are naturally cautious and introverted with the other Xuma. They are very self-sufficient, and very few of them leave the forest to trade. However, they are very warm and friendly within their own communities. They are typically hunters, trappers, and leatherworkers. They are the most open to change, and are not as concerned with tradition as the others, but are in no rush to change what’s currently working. Typically anywhere between 9-11ft tall

Plain Xuma tend to be farmers, ranchers, and textile workers. They are somewhat serious, and hold very tight to tradition. Change and innovation makes them wary. Even so, they have a fondness for traveling and trading, and will often approach the other Xuma communities, offering food and other goods in return for useful tools and materials. They maintain a very good transactional relationship with the cave Xuma because of this. Typically anywhere between 8-10ft tall

Cave Xuma are mostly miners, metalworkers, and scavengers, and are surprisingly the most socially driven of the Xuma. They are merry and hardworking, and like to drink. Their favorite import from the plain Xuma are the crops that they can store and ferment into alcohol. They are somewhat welcoming of innovation, but are still hesitant to make changes that interfere with tradition. Typically 7-9ft tall

Xuma have adapted well to their environment. They have thick, water-resistant skin, and generate a lot of body heat, and therefore do not do well in warmer, drier environments. They sleep communal rest piles, in order to keep both warm, as well as share dreams

No sexual dimorphism in any of the Xuma. No sense for gender or sexuality (they/them for everyone)

They age and reproduce slowly, and raise young as a community. Deaths are heavily mourned over a long period of time. Even Xuma from different communities will come to mourn, bringing gifts and sharing food and drink

Xuma share a special mental link with each other that makes them able to share feelings, thoughts, and memories, and they can even extend this power to other non-Xuma species

Sharing dreams is an important bonding ritual for the Xuma, as the burden of experiencing dreams on your lonesome can be mentally taxing. This is also why casual mental links are important, and why Xuma must live in a community

They are deeply empathetic and are extremely averse to senseless violence. Still, they are omnivorous, so they kill to eat, but nothing more. Fighting, even between different types of Xuma, is almost unheard of

They do not pick official leaders, and instead, turn to the oldest and most experienced of their communities to make decisions

There have been ships that landed on Xuma, and they have regarded their few visitors with cautious hospitality. Luckily, their visitors have been peaceful thus far, but the stories they’ve heard about the rest of the galaxy makes them anxious about drawing attention to themselves. They would far rather have their small planet stay under the radar, if they can help it

Aom

Plain Xuma

Finds the other two Xuma communities far more interesting than his own, but ESPECIALLY loves the idea of going to other planets

Disinterested in farming or trading, really loves inventing

He began to invent when he met a spacefaring alien who taught him about spaceships and other pieces of advanced technology when he was a child

After receiving some books and such from the alien, he began to study and tinker on his own, and completely gave up on trying to fit in with the rest of the Xuma

Unfortunately, there is only so much one can do with the materials on Xuma, so he left on one of the visiting ships, promising to do free repairs and such in return for a one way trip

The elders in his community said he would not be welcome back if he leaves, due to his cruel disregard for tradition and the people who raised him, but Aom holds onto the hope that he will be able to come home one day… after he has finished learning all he wants to learn of course

The first planet he found himself on was Alternia

He quickly realized how harsh of a place it was, but luckily managed to find his way to Ilioneus, where he settled down for the time being, so that he may learn and invent in peace

Along with learning things about science and technology, Aom also learned about Alternia’s culture. He was especially intrigued by gender, and decided he would be most happy if he was referred to with he/him pronouns

He’s come to love Alternia, and he enjoys getting the opportunity to experiment with their very advanced technology. Even if he doesn’t plan on staying forever, it’ll be a while until he finds a new planet to investigate

#aom #even tho hes not rlly... in this lmao #art

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

#hubert von vestra #hubert x reader #fire emblem #feh #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem fic #x reader

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seriouslysnape · 4 years

Note

Hi!❣️ Your writing is pretty cool, and I love the way you portray Sev, especially!

If it isn't a bother, of course... Could I make a request? Where Snape and the Reader are expecting, and go through all the nine months (like, through things like cravings, mood swings Snaddy has to endure, buying the child's stuff and decorating the room, all of that), till delivery? Only if you'd like the 'prompt', of course.

Wish you a nice day☺️

I LOVE THISSSSSS. YES DAD SEV >>>

Paternal Figure

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language, Emetephobia, Sexual implications.

Word Count: 5,161

“We’re going to be one happy family.”

“How much longer?” Severus questioned, eyeing the pregnancy test that was lying face down on the bathroom counter.

You looked at your wrist watch that was secured on your trembling hand. You saw that it had been more than enough time for the pregnancy test to do its job. A quivering sigh flowed from your chest as you reached for the test with trembling fingers.

“It should be ready.” You replied.

Severus sat up straighter from where he sat on the bathroom floor, his blood pumping with eagerness and nervousness. You held the test to your chest for a second with your eyes closed and head lulled towards the ceiling.

You and Severus wanted a baby badly. After being married for a few years, the baby fever was becoming harder to resist between the two of you combined. It started out as a casual thing. Severus first briefly mentioned how there was still an empty room in the house that needed to be occupied. You assumed that he meant as an office space or maybe even a large walk in closet.

But when Severus suggested that the two of you turn that space into a nursery, you knew what he was implying. You had always wanted to have kids with Sev. In the beginning, Severus wasn’t totally sure how he felt about having a baby. He wasn’t great with younger people, and he was always afraid he wouldn’t be a good dad.

However, the longer the two of you were together and the more life you shared together, the more he wanted nothing more than to put a baby in you. He wanted to raise a child and teach it all the wonders of the wizarding world. He wanted your baby to be perfect.

The two of you sat and chatted for a long time about it, not wanting to rush into things. It was a huge deal after all; bringing a human into the world was a life changing ordeal. You talked it over, and you both happily agreed that you would start trying for a baby.

You admittedly became a little obsessed with getting pregnant in the first few months. You tracked your menstrual and ovulation cycles much more than usual, eventually memorizing everything down to the minute. You tried any wizard (and even a few Muggle) tricks in the book to increase your chances of conceiving, including basically pouncing on Severus any chance he was around.

If you had a free minute to spare, you were shoving him into bed and having sex with him. At first, Severus found it rather endearing that you were so excited to have a kid, but he became concerned as time went on. Getting pregnant isn’t always a quick process. Some women can so much as look at their husband and get results while some spend a better half of their life trying to even get a positive pregnancy test.

You were proving to be one of the harder cases.

With each negative pregnancy test, the more frantic you became. You felt like your fertility window was closing in on you rapidly, and if you didn’t get pregnant soon, it’d be too late. The first few negatives didn’t phase you much, but by the fifth or sixth, you were feeling discouraged. Severus was much more patient than you during all of this, holding you flush to him when you burst into tears of frustration.

It had become a monotonous and vicious cycle. You’d try to get pregnant, buy a pregnancy test, get a negative result, and fall into a weeping heap onto the bathroom floor. After one particularly hard let down, Severus stepped in. He was rocking your sobbing frame in his arms, hushing you and comforting you as best he could.

He suggested that the two of you take a break for a while, and that maybe you were trying too hard. The stress couldn’t have been good for you as a whole, and maybe taking a more casual approach would be best.

“Here’s what I’m thinking, my love. You and I take this step by step. We continue life as normal,” He said softly; “If you get pregnant then that’s good, and if you don’t, then we remain calm and try again. If much longer goes by, then we can go see your doctor.”

You nodded into his chest with heartbreaking sobs, agreeing that this had taken a huge toll on your body. You apologized for your crazy behavior, but Severus only gave a light laugh and kissed your head.

“No, no, my dear. Don’t be sorry. I want this just as much as you do.” He consoled, sweeping you off of the floor.

You were a bit apprehensive about Severus’ approach to this, but you were willing to try anything. Fast forward a few weeks later, and this was the first test you had taken since taking Severus’ advice.

“Sev...” You croaked out; “What if it’s negative?”

You were sitting against the door in your tiny bathroom, Severus sitting on the wall across from you. Your knees were almost touching one another’s as he replied.

“Then we accept it, take a few days, and try again. It’ll be alright, [Y/N].” He reassured, resting a hand on your knee in a loving way.

You exhaled deeply, already half expecting to be disappointed. You nodded, and quickly flipped the test so you could read it. Your heart hit your feet and bounced back into your ribcage at the sight. You were stoically silent as you stared in silence at the test.

Severus was watching with a clenched jaw, prepared to comfort you in case it wasn’t what you wanted to see. You kept looking at it for a few more seconds to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The double pink lines were as clear as day.

You were pregnant.

Tears filled your eyes, but they were tears of happiness. You turned the test so he could see it.

“It’s positive,” You said, smiling through the tears streaming your face; “We’re going to have a baby.”

Severus’ jaw fell open and stars of delight shot over his eyes. He himself gazed down at the test as if it would explode right in his hands.

“You’re pregnant...” He breathed out.

You nodded, wiping away at the tears with a genuine laugh. A blinding smile appeared on Severus’ face as he moved to pull you into a tight embrace. A few tears leaked from his eyes as well, the two of you mumbling “I love yous” to each other as you cried out the adrenaline and undeniably glee that you were feeling. It had almost been a year since you started trying, and now it seemed that it had paid off.

You were going to be parents.

The first trimester of your pregnancy was less than pleasant. While you were eternally grateful to be carrying your first child, you weren’t too thrilled about the symptoms that came with it. You were violently sick for the first few weeks, basically bringing back up anything you tried to hold down. Even something as mild as pumpkin juice was enough to make you sick just from the smell.

As disgusting as it was, Severus was by your side any time you fell ill.

“It’s okay, darling. Let it all out.” He soothed, rubbing circles onto your back as you let out another hurl.

You seemingly puked up everything you had eaten in the last ten years into the toilet bowl, a new groan escaping your chest every time you had a chance to take a breath. Severus kept your hair out of your face as best as he could, trying not to visibly grimace every time you threw up.

You closed the lid of the toilet for a minute, draping your arm over the top of it and resting your forehead on the heated skin of your forearm.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t want you to see me like this.” You grumbled miserably.

He gave a chuckle, and even though you couldn’t see it, he raised his left hand to reveal his silver wedding ring.

“In sickness and in health.” He said, wrapping his long legs around your from behind, resting his head on your back.

“I think this is an exception to that vow.” You joked, hoping that the relief you were feeling was to signal the end of today’s sickness.

Severus hummed.

“I think that this is exactly what it was referring to,” He corrected, his heart fluttering when you lifted your head with a weak smile; “Just as beautiful as ever.”

You snorted at that, but you were heartwarmed.

“How did I ever deserve you?” You asked, falling into his open arms.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

When you were actually able to have an appetite, you wanted any and every food imaginable. The pregnancy cravings were insanely hard to ignore, and it was even harder to ignore the weird things you craved.

“What...is that?” Severus questioned cautiously as he entered the kitchen, catching you in the middle of biting something he couldn’t even discern.

You looked at him with wide eyes and stopped mid-chomp. You didn’t respond, not even sure how to explain this to him. His gaze averted to the open pantry, and saw that mostly everything had been raided and placed on the kitchen counter. He had noticed that satisfying your cravings had proven to be the most difficult thus far. He inspected the food item in your hand and his stomach lurched when he realized what it was.

“Is that a treacle tart with...” He trailed off, barely able to finish the thought.

You finished his sentence, rather ashamed.

“...pickles.” You confessed.

Severus was sure that his face had turned a nasty shade of green at the thought of your concoction. He shuddered and made you put it down. You had always been creative and experimental in the kitchen, but this was too far.

“Okay, I’ve been supportive of every strange food combination you’ve come up with, but I draw the line at treacle pickle tarts.” He said with a voice full of amusement.

You whined.

“I know it’s weird, but I can’t help it. Everything we have sounds good.”

He scratched the back of his head. He never liked to tell you how to live your life, but there was no way that this was good for you or the baby.

“I don’t think Little One is going to appreciate pickles and desserts.” He noted, placing a hand on your very small baby bump.

“Little One” was the nickname that he had coined for your developing child. You and Severus had decided early on that you wanted to keep the baby’s gender a surprise up until delivery. Severus hated to keep referring to the baby as...well, “the baby”. So he had instinctively come up with all kinds of nicknames along the way.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that Little One is the only reason I want pickles.” You snapped back.

“It’s not the pickles. It’s the pickles with the tart that I can’t stomach.” Severus explained.

You sneered at him, but Severus continued before you could snark back at him.

“I’ll tell you what, princess. How about we whip up a bunch of your favorite foods, and we’ll have a nice dinner together?” He offered.

Your belly grumbled at the sound of that. You nodded in agreement, and you and Severus prepared a heavenly meal.

On top of the all day morning sickness and the nauseating cravings, your hormones were going absolutely nuts. You had never experienced such frequent mood changes like this, and poor Severus was the victim of all your emotional outbursts. It seemed as if you were blowing up at the smallest of details.

“Damn it, Sev. How many times have I told you not to leave your socks on the floor?” You hissed, angrily picking up his dirty socks.

Severus poked his head out of the bathroom that was adjoined to your bedroom, a guilty look on his face.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I left them there.” He said truthfully.

“Just like how you didn’t realize that you left the sink faucet dripping or how you forgot to put the pillows back on the bed when you got up at 10 in the morning?” You mocked, throwing his socks into his laundry basket.

He caught how aggravated you were, and exited the bathroom to talk things over. Severus didn’t want you to be upset with him, but he knew you were just going through a lot of changes and couldn’t really control your emotions well.

“I assure you that I didn’t do those things on purpose,” He said, not even an ounce of irritation in his voice; “I’ll pick up after myself.”

His light and friendly tone made you realize that you had overreacted once again. Severus had not once lost his temper with you, no matter how bad you had nagged him. Your shoulders slumped and you looked at your feet that were close to being covered by your steadily growing bump.

You felt bad for being on his ass about something 24/7. He was trying his best to help you and make your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. You yelling at him all the time wasn’t fair to him.

“I’m sorry, Sev. It’s not you.” You uttered for the hundredth time in the last three months.

He only smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Not to worry, my dear,” He mewled; “I can handle being screamed at for as long as it takes.”

The second trimester was actually easier than the first as far as symptoms goes. Your morning sickness had subsided, you had adapted to your ever changing hormones, and you weren’t tempted to eat everything in sight. While the symptoms were still there, they didn’t completely dictate your life.

You and Severus were well into the finer intricacies of planning for the arrival of your baby boy or girl. You were in the process of converting your extra bedroom into a nursery, which was a challenge for Severus. He was a shitty interior decorator, which wouldn’t be an issue if he hadn’t insisted that he decorate the baby’s room.

Severus wanted to be as involved as possible, never wanting you to think that he wasn’t there for you. You were ecstatic with the idea of him taking charge of the nursery, but you soon realized that wasn’t a good idea.

“We are not painting the baby’s room BLACK, Severus.” You protested, eyeing the cans of black paint on the floor.

Severus had gone out and bought all kinds of paint supplies. Paintbrushes, paint rollers, stencils, tape, etc. He was adamant about doing it all by hand (as opposed to using magic; a suggestion that he was horribly offended at), and had taken it upon himself to buy everything.

You had forgotten that there wasn’t much color interest in the world of Severus Snape.

“And why not? There’s black in other parts of the house.” He argued.

You put your hands on your hips, your back beginning to arch from the weight of your five month swelling belly.

“Yes, but this is a baby’s room. I don’t think he or she is going to like it,” You retorted back; “It’ll be too dark and...scary. I want Little One to be comfortable in here.”

Severus looked around. Perhaps, black was too extreme for such a small human. He looked a tad defeated and disappointed in himself. He was trying his hardest. You caught his dejected look.

“Oh, honey. I know you want it to be perfect,” You said, taking his face into your hands; “We can do it together. Maybe we can sneak a bit of black in here somewhere.”

He nodded.

“So, what color should we paint the room?” He asked.

You looked around this time, biting your lower lip in thought. You wanted to have gender neutral colors, and something that would be cozy for the baby.

“How about we paint the walls white? That way we can add pops of color wherever we see fit.” You said after a moment of thought.

Severus agreed, but was holding to your promise to have at least some black in the room. The nursery was an ongoing project, lasting about a week and a half. The crib was the last item placed in the room, and it was complete. You and Severus stood in the middle, basking in the finished nursery.

“It looks great, S.” You said, looking at the black painted changing table and the mobile above the crib.

“It does. I’m glad you helped me.” He admitted, eyeing the moving pictures on the walls.

You wrapped your arms around your husband’s waist, his lips falling to your head in response.

“We’re going to be one happy family.” You announced.

Severus laughed into your hair, his heart beating with hope.

“We already are.”

You had officially made it past the halfway mark, and your due date was quickly approaching. There was still so much to do, and not a lot of time to do it. Your bump was already huge, and you still had another trimester to go. You were getting to the point where swollen feet and an aching lower back was crippling your ability to go out and do much.

You were laid out on the sofa with Severus rubbing your tired feet. You were fighting the aching pain in your back and legs from the unevenly distributed weight from your midsection.

“I really need to go out today.” You winced as another round of soreness flooded your body.

Severus’ careful hands continued to massage the aching muscles of your feet.

“Why, love? You can surely go on a day where you’re feeling in higher spirits.” He said.

While he wasn’t totally wrong, you were at the point where every day was the same as the last. You had a feeling that you wouldn’t have a “higher spirits” day for a while.

“I suppose I could. But I need to get baby clothes, pacifiers, bottles.” You grunted, exhaling heavily.

You really needed to do this, but you just weren’t feeling up to it. Then you had an idea. Since Severus didn’t get to put all his effort into the nursery, you thought you could give him a second chance.

“Severus, could you possibly go out and buy baby stuff today?” You suddenly asked.

You were honestly expecting him to say no, considering he knew nothing about baby fashion. Instead, his face brightened and he leapt up from the couch.

“Of course! Why didn’t you just ask?” He queried, giddy with joy.

You laughed at his anticipation, giving him a few instructions.

“Alright, Sev. Don’t buy anything ridiculous or anything that’s made of uncomfortable material,” You said; “And do NOT get anything Slytherin related. As much as you would like it, we have no clue what Little One is going to be sorted into when he or she is old enough.”

Severus groaned.

“Not even a-”

“No Slytherin stuff.”

“Well, what about a-”

“No, Severus.”

He groaned again, but accepted your request. As badly as he wanted his daughter or son to be a Slytherin, there was always the chance that they wouldn’t be. He’d love them regardless of what House they were in, but it would tickle him to death if they were a Slytherin.

So Severus went out into Diagon Alley with extra pep in his step, jittery as he went from store to store getting stuff for his little girl or boy. Severus had never paid much attention to baby clothes, and now that he was looking, his heart was swelling with excitement.

There were so many cute sweaters, onesies, socks, and pajama sets that absolutely made Severus burst with joy. He would pick out about a dozen outfits to start out with, knowing that you’d have to go buy more once the baby was older. But each time he thought he had enough, he’d spot two or three more outfits that he just had to buy.

He could not WAIT to see his baby in all of this stuff. It had obviously been a while since he was a child, and he was amazed at all of the new things that had been invented to make parenting easier and childhood more fun.

He bought a pacifier for every day of the week, and enough toys that would last your kid through kindergarten. He bought blankets and stuffed animals and anything else that a baby MIGHT want. Your baby was going to be spoiled to the max.

Truth be told, Severus went a little overboard with his purchases. He came back with no less than ten bags full of baby materials. You not-so-gracefully lifted yourself from the couch when he entered, several bags hooked onto each of his arms. He had a proud smile plastered on his face.

“Oh Merlin, Severus! What all did you buy??” You questioned, eyes bugging out at all the goodies in front of you.

“Clothes, pacifiers, bottles. Everything you asked for.” Severus stated innocently, you rifled through the bags at all the baby wonders.

“And toys, blankets, and stuffed animals.” You finished his list.

You looked at Severus with an entertained smile, his cheeks glowing red.

“I just want Little One to be happy.” He shrugged meekly.

You let out a soft “awh” and captured his soft lips in a sweet kiss. He already loved this baby so much that it melted your heart.

“With you as their dad, they absolutely will be.”

You had never been happier to enter your third and final trimester. You were in the home stretch, and you were so excited to meet your baby. You were about to pop like a balloon and, quite frankly, you had enough of it. Don’t make any mistake about it, you had cherished every moment of being pregnant, but you were ready to get some somewhat decent sleep without being kicked in the ribs every 5 minutes.

Although, with a newborn around, you weren’t sure how much sleep you would get.

Over the course of your pregnancy, Severus had become more and more protective the more your baby grew. Now that your due date was only a few days out, he jumped at any sudden movement or noise. He had eyes and ears like a hawk. He came barreling into the living room, completely naked and dripping with water from where he had just stepped into the shower.

“Darling, what was that? Are you alright?” He asked frantically as if he had just heard an airstrike.

You looked up from your book, readjusting the pillow that was underneath your massive belly to support the weight.

“Severus. I sneezed.” You declared.

Relief washed over him, and he ran a hand through his damp hair.

“Oh. Do you need anything?” He asked you for the millionth time that evening.

You laughed shortly, nodding your head.

“Yes. I’m fine,” You said; “Please try to enjoy your shower.”

Severus had been on your tail nonstop for the last three weeks. Even though most pregnancies go the full 40 weeks, your doctor said that labor could be expected once you hit 36. Sev didn’t want you out of his sights in case you went into labor early. He didn’t want to miss anything.

You had begged him to break away just for a minute, for his sake and yours. He padded back to the shower, ignoring the way his heart was thumping in his chest. You went back to your book, grinning to yourself at your anxious husband.

Once Severus was showered and somewhat calmer, you had grown tired and were ready to get in bed. Growing and carrying a baby had really tanked your energy levels, but Severus didn’t mind going to bed early. As long as he knew you and the baby were safe, he was content.

He laughed out loud when you slid into bed wearing only a pair of panties and a t-shirt that you had used a spell to stretch out. It was the only sleepwear that fit you due to your risen belly.

Getting comfortable was next to impossible, but you had gotten used to it over the last few months. You didn’t mind, because you knew it’d be back to normal soon. Severus was eyeing your tummy, looking to you with expectation once you were settled.

“Go ahead, Sev.” You giggled, knowing what he wanted.

Every single night since you had been pregnant, Severus would rub your belly and tell the human growing inside of you goodnight. Severus shimmied down to where his face was in front of your bump. He lifted the shirt up to reveal your bare belly. He left a kiss on the stretched skin, carefully placing both of his hands on you.

“Hello in there,” Severus said, smiling proudly when he felt the baby move at the sound of his voice; “Are you still kicking your mother?”

You even nodded at that, thinking about all the times that the baby had soccer kicked your ribcage or hit your bladder just right. You placed one hand over one of Severus’, and put your other in his hair as he spoke.

“I’m so ready to meet you. I love you so much already. Other than Mum, I never thought I could ever love someone this much,” Severus spoke gently; “You two are my whole world.”

You rubbed his hair as you listened. Severus had been nothing short of amazing during this process. He was more than you could ever ask for. This baby was going to be loved endlessly.

“I don’t know how great of a father I’ll be. I didn’t exactly have ideal parents. I admit that I don’t have a model to go off of. But I will love you no matter what,” He spoke; “I hope you sleep well, Little One. I can’t wait to see you.”

He pressed another kiss to the side of your belly, before returning to your side. You were misty eyed at his words, turning so you were facing him.

“Oh, Severus. You’re going to be a wonderful dad. I’ve seen the way you love this child,” You assured; “Little One is going to love you. And there’s no one else I’d rather bring a baby into this world with.”

Severus still had a modest amount of nerves, but it was drowned out with joy. He was so ready for this baby.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you, Sev.” You whispered back.

You leaned to kiss him, but just as your lips touched, you felt a contraction and a massive gush of fluid flushed out between your legs, soaking both of your lower halves. A startled gasp fell from your mouth, and Severus eyes grew about three times their normal size. You both knew what that meant.

Little One was about to make his/her entrance into the world.

Getting to the hospital from the time that labor began was a blind rush. Severus was positively panicked, which didn’t help your attempts to remain relaxed. He had spent 9 months preparing for this moment, and he was still caught off guard.

The hospital was busy, but you had a team of nurses and doctors ready to go. You were wheeled into a delivery room, your doctor checking to see how dilated you were. He let you know that you had one of the fastest dilations he had ever seen, because you were already at 10 centimeters. There was no time for an epidural or a spell.

It was time to push.

The nurses got your legs into delivery position, Severus taking your hand as the doctor and nurses guided you through it. You gave a hard push, screaming bloody murder and squeezing the circulation out of Severus’ hand.

“You’re doing great, my love. Keep pushing.” He praised you.

Your head fell back onto the pillow with gruff, heavy breaths. You were filled with a pain you couldn’t describe. You needed this baby out. The doctor gave you a second to rest, before instructing you to push again. You took a deep breath, every muscle in your body tensing up as you pushed. Severus scrunched his nose at how badly you were hurting his hand, but he didn’t dare say anything.

The baby’s head and shoulders were out, ear splitting cries echoing through the room. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Severus peeked between your legs, and you saw the way his face filled with pure love as he saw your baby for the first time.

“Oh, [Y/N]. Little One is gorgeous...” He breathed, wanting you to push again so you could be able to see; “Push again, darling. You’re almost there.”

The nurses and Severus were encouraging you as you pushed hard a few more times, your baby finally entering into the world. Severus was a little too squeamish to cut the cord, but he watched every single movement as the doctors and nurses cut the umbilical cord and got them cleaned up. You were breathing heavily, your entire body shaking from the strenuous action. You whimpered out to Severus, who had a better viewpoint than you did.

“Is the baby okay? Please tell me the baby’s okay...” You whined out, desperate to see him/her.

Severus was close to crying, but it was the happiest he had been in his entire life.

“The baby is perfect. You did so well, my love.” He said, kissing your sweaty forehead.

The chaos in the room died down, and one of the nurses had swaddled the crying baby. She gave a huge, kind smile and set the baby in your arms.

“Say hello to your baby girl.” She cooed.

Tears fell from your eyes as she was placed into your arms. Her cries dwindled out at the feeling and sound of your and Severus’ voices. She was the most stunning baby you had ever seen. Severus felt something awaken in him. A side of him that had been itching to come out.

“A girl...oh, a girl.” You cried happily.

Severus sniffed, holding back tears.

“She’s beautiful. She’s perfect.” Sev croaked.

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her small baby whimpers making his heart explode. The two of you sat in silence, raking over your baby’s perfection. After a minute, you looked up at Severus with a smile.

“I just thought of something we have to do.” You said.

Panic flashed over his face again. You had done everything he thought. What could there possible be to do?

“What is that, darling?” He acquired.

You giggled, kissing Severus’ cheek.

“We’ve got to pick a name for her.”

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #severus #severus snape x y/n #alan rickman #Harry Potter #harry potter snape #severus snape imagine #severus snape blurb #seriouslysnape

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lunar-wandering · 3 years

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hey @winterpower98 guess what-

here’s part 3

"You know, I'm starting to think maybe Monkey King is right about caves." MK said, leaning against Macaque's shoulder for support. "Thus far, we haven't had a really good track record with them."

"If you don't shut up right now I'm going to let you fall, injured leg be damned." Macaque said, shifting his hold to be able to support MK a little better as he wobbled.

Earlier in the day, the group of three had stumbled across a cave. MK had insisted on checking it out, but Wukong had outright refused to go in. After some arguing back and forth, Macaque had eventually given an irritated sigh, and grabbed MK's arm, marching into the cave and ignoring Wukong's yells for them to "be careful!".

...Of course, him ignoring Wukong's warning ended up resulting in karma rearing its head, causing a small cave in. Nothing really big, but enough to seal off the way back, and for a rock to hit MK in the leg, creating a long, bleeding, gash. Macaque had ended up sacrificing his scarf to bandage the injury, just to make sure MK didn't bleed out.

Which lead to where they were now, MK being supported by Macaque as they walked through the cave, with MK trying to make jokes, whether to lighten the mood or distract himself, Macaque wasn't sure. He was sure that there was another exit though, he could both feel and hear the wind blowing through the cavern, so all they had to do was just find it.

Which was... turning out to be a bit harder than it should've been.

Macaque suddenly stopped, MK swaying a little at the sudden lack of movement.

"What are you-"

"Shh. I hear something." Macaque said, tilting his head a little and flicking his ears, before turning, and slowly setting MK down so that he was sitting on the floor of the cave, his back against the wall. "...Stay here, I'll go check it out."

"No." MK said, grabbing hold of Macaque's wrist. "Don't. Don't leave me alone."

Macaque paused, glancing further into the cave, before looking back at MK. He took in the injured leg, the trembling tail, the way MK almost looked like he was about to start crying-

....Fuck, he'd gone soft.

"Okay, okay." Macaque said, kneeling down, "How about this."

He pressed his hand into MK's shadow, and pushed a bit of energy into it. Slowly, MK's shadow changed shape, morphing until it was exactly like Macaque's own shadow. Then, Macaque grasped onto it, and pulled.

A shadow clone popped out, it was only half formed, still a bit see through, but it was there. Macaque sighed as he stood back up, trying to not show just how much doing that had drained him. At least, since it was connected to MK's shadow, it wouldn't drain him of all his energy too quickly...

"There." Macaque said, "Now you're not alone. I'm going to look ahead, the clone will notify me if anything happens, okay?"

MK gave a little nod, and Macaque turned, and walked off into the darkness.

Leaving MK alone. ...With the shadow clone.

For a few minutes, MK was quiet. But....he was alone. In a cave. With an injured leg.

He needed something to distract himself with.

"So, uh, what do you think about Mon-" He started-

"Don't." The shadow clone interrupted, it's voice slightly warbled due to being half-formed. "Don't even think about it. I'm not like Wukong's clones, I'm not going to give away information so easily."

"....Oh. Sorry." MK said, disappointed, looking down at the ground.

"Ah, you didn't let me finish." The clone said, a sneaking grin on it's face. "I might be willing to talk, should you have something of equal interest to share...."

As it turned out, the sound Macaque had been hearing had been nothing but a small group of demons. Nothing a little bit of threatening and bluffing couldn't get rid off, so he chased them off, although not before he got one of them to tell him the way out.

Repeating the mental map of where he needed to go in his mind, he walked back to where he'd left MK and the clone.

...Only to hear a conversation he absolutely did not want to have happening.

"So, now that I've told you that...." MK's voice said, ".....What does Macaque think about Monkey King?"

Macaque froze, one foot ready to take the next step around the corner. He knew that he should rush around, dispel the clone, make sure that there was no answer, but for some reason he just. Couldn't seem to move.

"Oh, is that all you want to know?" The clone said, "Well, I think you already know the answer, he's still totally in lo-"

That seemed to be enough to break whatever was keeping Macaque still, as he rushed around the corner, kicking the shadow clone in the face as he dispelled it.

There was a moment of silence as MK and Macaque stared at each other. Then, MK smirked, before bursting into laughter. Macaque sighed, falling backwards and laying on the ground, staring at the roof of the cave, almost wishing the rocks would cave in on him right then and there.

"Wukong was right." He settled on saying, "Stupid clones really don't know how to shut up."

"Oh, so you overheard that conversation?" MK asked, "Well, that makes this a lot easier!"

"No it doesn't." Macaque hissed.

"Why not? You love him, you know he loves you back, you two talk about it, and then you get together, boom, easy!" MK explained, moving his arms around and making sound effects to accompany his point.

"Kid, clearly you have never experienced a real relationship." Macaque said, sitting back up to look at MK with the most disapproving face he could muster.

"But I've watched shows!" MK said, "I write fanfiction- I know how this kind of stuff plays out."

"Fan-what???"

MK paused for a moment.

"....I'll explain that to you later, right now, we're discussing your love life." He said, and Macaque groaned, flopping back onto the ground dramatically.

"I really rather we'd not-"

"Oh, but we will." MK said, smirking. "You, know, in retrospect, I really should've caught on the moment you described you and the Monkey King as being like the 'sun and moon', like, that's the gayest thing I've ever heard-"

"Shut up." Macaque hissed, using his hands to cover his face. "Gods, I thought I was over this-"

"But you're not." MK said, "So, what are you going to do?"

"Repress all of it until it goes away." Was Macaque's immediate response. MK used his good leg to kick Macaque in the side.

"Wrong answer." He said, ignoring how Macaque glared at him. "You're going to talk things out with Monkey King."

"Absolutely not." Macaque said, fur bristling. "That- that has 'terrible, no good idea' written all over it."

"Why are you so resistant to this?" MK asked, "What, are you scared?"

...He didn't get an answer.

"Oh my gods, you are scared."

"I am not." Macaque said, but considering he was very obviously avoiding looking MK in the eyes, he wasn't being very convincing.

"I mean, it's not like I can blame you-" MK said, "I mean, I've heard the stories and man, that's one hell of a breakup, but like, things are different now-"

"I'm not talking to him about this, and that's final." Macaque said, standing up in one fluid motion, clearly signalling that he was done with this conversation. Without even giving a bit of warning, he pulled MK up, throwing an arm around him to keep him steady. "C'mon, let's get out of this stupid cave already. I'm sure Peaches is having a heart attack over how long we're taking."

"Oh my gods you even call him Peaches that's so gay-"

"Shut the fuck up."

#Monkie Kid #Cursed AU #my writing

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hacked-by-jake · 3 years

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Hi yes hello I just got away from someone who I think was stalking me and I am freaking out and know I will continue freaking out for several days. Would you kindly write something where MC is in the same situation and Jake helps them in some way? He doesn't have to physically show up if it doesn't make sense storywise he can just talk to MC and tell them to go someplace public or whatever and help keep them calm. I don't know. Thank you.

Take you home.

>Part 2

Summary: Jake helps you when you’re being followed by a stranger on your way home at night.

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: MC is being persecuted and the person has no good intentions / Light swearing.

⚠️A/n: Okay, first of all, I’m really sorry you had to experience this. I very much hope that you are well / that you are better and everything is okay. If you want to talk to someone you don’t know, feel free to write to me.❤️

>>So, then, of course, please take all care of yourselves! Be careful and when you get into a situation like this, find someone who can help you quickly. People on the street, ring a bell even if you don’t know who lives there. Ask for help and draw attention to yourself. If you are alone, there are almost now numbers everywhere you can call if you happen to be on your way home or wherever. Save this number to your phone and get help there. Or call the police, even if it seems exaggerated to you, but at such moments it is not exaggerated.<<

To the Story: I started writing this but realized in the way I wrote it that I didn’t feel good about it. So I decided to write another alternative. Alternative 1. I have left both alternatives there, it is marked. The beginning and the end of the story are for both alternatives. However, Alternative 2 is a little more fictional, while Alternative 1 is a little more serious (if I can say so). I just felt Alternative 2 wasn’t serious enough for this really serious subject. Nevertheless, I left alternative 2 inside to maybe / hopefully leave a little bit more good (more cute etc.) feeling.

So, and at least: In this story, the perpetrator is a man. But I would like to point out that it is not only men who do this. This can happen to all genders and all gender can be perpetrators!

Now, I hope you will like it and I can help you a little bit with it or that it will calm you down a little. Thank you for your request and always be careful. Stay healthy.

Sorry about the mistakes.

"See you tomorrow" you call laughing and wave goodbye to the others once again. You put both hands deep into the pockets of your jacket and make your way home in a good mood. You and the others have all spent a nice evening in the Aurora. Actually, the others wanted to drive you home but you said that the fresh air will do you good because it is always very warm and stuffy in the bar. "Good night, MC" says a friend of Phil who is coming toward you and only now enters the bar. "Bye" you smile.

You breathe deep in the fresh night air, which is more than good for your body and your mind. You close your eyes and enjoy the silence for a moment. Nothing can be heard far and wide. No cars, no people, not even ravens crowing. A beautiful and clear night in Duskwood.

Your way home is fortunately not so far. From the Aurora about 15 to 20 minutes walk. Quietly you mumble your favorite song and whistle the music in some places. Until you see a black shadow across the street.

You turn your gaze there and see a man, dressed in dark, looking around. His eyes are flashing in the light of the street lights and you quickly turn your gaze away again. From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s moving across the street to yours. You’re twisting your eyes, not pleased. Of course, you don’t want to say right away that this man is a bit weird just because he changes sides of the road but nevertheless you have a queasy feeling. It’s no secret you have to be careful.

Just for your own safety and to calm your mind, you turn left on the next street. It is not really a shortcut, the way remains the same, but enough to avoid him. But when you notice the quiet steps behind you also turn into the alley, you become really uncomfortable. You are getting closer to your apartment and thus to the edge of the forest.

Not many people live here anymore. After Hannah was found and the case solved, many people moved away from here and when you moved to Duskwood, you found your apartment in the edge of the forest.

Since there are really not many people living here, you also know that the probability that the man has to go exactly this way is low. You try inconspicuously, turn your head backwards to look over your shoulder. It seems to you that the man has accelerated his steps, which automatically makes you run a little faster too. Of course he notices your look.

"Wait a minute," he calls and your heart stops for some knockers. Quickly you look straight again. Speed up your pace again. Don’t want to get panicked and hectic, yet you can’t resist your mind that immediately tells you 'run' "You don’t have to be afraid," he shouts behind you. A goose bump spreads on your body and a wheeze leaves your lips.

Your mind goes crazy and your body immediately enters survival mode. You’re starting to go faster, panicking of the strange man.

You thought Duskwood left those dark days behind.

"You don’t have to run away!" he calls again and you tighten your jaw muscle. It’ll still take a little to get to your apartment. Again you look back, see that the man has come even closer, also runs very fast. The houses and apartments around you are all dark, people are sleeping, no one would wake up. And then you get the idea.

Jake, the only one of the others who lives near you is Jake.

When he moved here, he moved into an apartment about four blocks from you. Further downtown, it has become difficult to find anything. You pull your phone out of your pocket and open the phone immediately. You always have Jake on speed dial, so you can call right away. Afraid, you press the phone against your ear. Your other hand wraps tightly around the pepper spray you own since there was the Man Without a Face.

'Pick up, pick up, pick up'

"I just want to talk to you!" calls the creepy man from behind and this time you can not hold back and the first sob leaves your lips.

"Hello, MC?" you hear Jake’s astonished voice. Of course, he doesn’t expect you to call him at 2:00 a.m. "Help me" you whisper quietly, your voice is a squeak, panicked, anxious, desperate. "What’s going on?" Jake immediately sounds alarmed. Immediately notice that the situation is serious. "A man has been following me since the Aurora, he wants me to stop," with deep sobbing you explain the situation. "How much distance is between you?" Jake asks calmly. "About 7 or 8 meters, but every time I run faster, he runs faster too!" you answer. You hear loud rustling from Jake. "Okay, MC, you just have to stay calm, don’t hang up, I’m already on my way" You agree, mumbling. "It won’t be long before I’m with you," insured, and you hear fast paces echoing through the phone.

"Stay now!" the man shouts loudly and you flinch. He sounds much more aggressive than he just did, impatient and annoyed.

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>>Alternative 1

"Hurry up, please," you beg Jake.

"Stay calm, okay, MC? Put me on speaker" he orders and tries to keep his voice relatively quiet so as not to make you more nervous.

You do what he says and unlike what you expected, he makes a request for a video call. You take the call and put it on speaker.

His face appears and you immediately feel a little more safe. You keep the phone further away from your face so that the man behind you can also see that at least someone is there who can see you." I’ve got your location, I’m on my way to you. It’s only two streets away," Jake says aloud, briefly holding a second phone in front of the camera where your location is displayed. Even if your pursuer may not be able to see it, the gesture counts.

Carefully you turn back and take a look again. For your joy, his steps have already slowed down and a little more distance is between you.

"I don’t need a minute until I’m with you, MC," Jake informs you and you nod relieved. You wipe the tears from the cheeks that have calmed down a bit and breathes trembling deeply before you look behind you again.

The man changes sides of the road.

"It works" you breathe and nod wildly with your head, in relief.

You see the man walking the other way, in the opposite direction of you. He has given up, seems to have noticed that you're safe now.

"Stay there," demands Jake, "I can see you," he informs you, and you look to the right, into the street next to you. In fact, you see the hacker running towards you, but now also slowing down his steps.

"Oh God," you croak relieved, lowers your phone and run towards him. From afar he stretches out his arms and you throw yourself into his embrace. <<

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>>Alternative 2

"Hurry up," you plead. You’re accelerating your steps more and more. Jake answers something, his voice is blurry, choppy and distorted.

Quickly you look at your screen. No signal. Your phone has no signal. It’s a dead zone.

You hear as Jake asks about you, also difficult to recognize. The first tears run down your cheek and burn into your skin.

Slowly everything starts to turn, from the panic in you. It all feels blurry, imaginary and not real. But unfortunately it is real. "Shit!" you hiss as your screen turns black. Jake has to hurry!

"Stop!" the man calls again and suddenly you hear firm and fast steps behind you. Without looking, you know he start running. And without hesitation you start running as well. It feels like there’s a loud sough in your ears, like an old radio is losing the signal.

Your surroundings become blurred, out of focus and you feel as if everything is pulsating around you. The houses are getting closer, it feels like it’s getting darker around you, It’s like the sky is getting even blacker. And the only thing booming in your head is 'run, run for your life' You can’t prevent a weepy whining from coming out of your mouth followed by a loud sob. You try to blink the tears in your eyes away to see something but it doesn’t work. The more you try, the worse it gets.

Your lungs are starting to burn. Stitches in your sides make this run unbearable. You lift your legs higher while running to reduce the risk of stumbling. Just focus on running and breathing. The steps behind you are not to be heard, like this mute everything feels. "MC" you hear it calling from somewhere, can not arrange the voice, your mind imagines that your persecutor knows your name. But then, suddenly, you see, out of the alley next to you, an arm coming out fast. He’s reaching for your upper arm. It’s so fast, you don’t even have time to scream. You get ripped around and hit against a back hard.

In the first moment you want to fight back, defend yourself, to kick around you but you quickly recognize the voice as Jake’s when he says "I’m here, MC, everything is good". Full of pure relief, you wrap your arms around him from behind, "Thanks God" you sigh and press your face into the soft material of his sweater. Jake’s hand reaches for yours and puts it on it calmly as he builds up tall in front of the man. You don’t want to look at this guy, you don’t want him to see you.

"Can I help you?" Jake asks in a deep and dangerous-sounding voice. You never thought he could speak like that, so angry that his voice is almost shaking. You hear how the other man’s steps have finally stopped, "No, everything is fine," he grumbles.

"Then fuck off now" Jakes hisses aggressively and takes a step forward. You will be pulled along and wrap your arms even more tighter around him.

"It’s all right, man," the other one grumbles and really seems to turn around to leave. Jake doesn’t move a bit, his whole body is tense, he is under high tension, you feel how tense his muscles are. Feel how trembling his breath escapes.

When your persecutor finally disappeared, Jake takes your arms off his belly and turns around. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you tightly against his body. Your mind finally realizes that you don’t need to be afraid anymore, you start crying again, but this time out of relief and happiness.<<

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

You start crying hard, crying against his chest, his arms holding you tight, protective.

"It’s all good, MC," he whispers, and his voice sounds like he’s about to cry too. You’re pressing so tight and close against him that you’re afraid you might crush him, but you have no control over it. And he doesn’t seem to mind.

"It’s all good, MC, I’m here now, you’re safe, I take care of you. He can’t hurt you anymore, and he’ll never be able to hurt you," he whispers, pressing his lips on your forehead.

"You’re safe," he keeps confirming that everything’s okay now. Does not let go, holds you and gives you stability and safety.

"Thank you" you whimper and bury your hands in the fabric of his sweater.

"Don’t thank me, there’s no reason to thank me, everything is fine," he easily walks away from you to look at you. Lovingly and carefully he puts his hands on your cheeks to wipe the tears from your cheek with his thumbs.

"You’re safe, okay? I’m here"

You nod, try to calm down and stop your tears." You’re coming with me, all right? You’re sleeping in my apartment today. You don’t have to be alone right now. And you can stay as long as you want," he suggests, and You exhale with relief, glad you don’t have to be alone.

"Thank you" you croak again and again he kisses you lightly on the forehead.

"Shall we go?" he asks cautiously and you agree.

Jake takes your hand into his, and slowly you start on the path that luckily is not far.

"You never walk home alone again, all right? You can always call me and I’ll pick you up. And if you want to walk, then I’ll come and we’ll go home together"

You don’t contradict him, you’re happy about it. Never want to walk alone again.

"I got his data from his cell phone, and we know who he is. Tomorrow we’ll see what we can do," he tells you, and you try to smile a bit.

When you two gets home, he picks out some of his clothes for you, a shorts and a T-shirt. You take a warm and soothing shower while he makes you a cup of tea.

Together you lie down, he holds his arms open for you and holds you tight and takes care of you until you fall asleep.

🌹🎭❤️

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood Jake x mc #everbyte #everbyte studios #everbyte duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #duskwood hacker #iamjake

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